Saturday, as I walked around town with my colleague S, every so often a
string of Mercedes would drive past with large ribbons tied to the hood
and beeping their horns in celebration. This is the relatively new
tradition for weddings in Addis Ababa, and we must have seen at least
five of these processions in a single afternoon. Again, just now, on
Sunday evening, I hear a half dozen cars beeping and honking along the
road in the distance and I know that's what it is.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Sunday gathering
"Mukaja, zena zena, sarr, jebena." This is what I repeat to myself over and over after today's coffee ceremony trying desperately to remember the names of the different paraphernalia used. The jebena is the clay coffee pot, sarr is grass that is spread on the ground where the ceremony is performed, and mukaja & zena-zena are the wooden mortar and pestle used to pulverize the roasted coffee beans. There are other objects as well, but I resigned myself to learn them little by little.
During the coffee ceremony today, the owner of the guesthouse came by along with her daughter, who are Rwandan, and her daughter's boyfriend, who is Italian. They are really wonderful people, and I sat with the daughter and her boyfriend and we traded different stories about the places we come from and places we've visited. It was a nice time to sit back, sip our coffee and snack on a bowl of popcorn and just enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon.
During the coffee ceremony today, the owner of the guesthouse came by along with her daughter, who are Rwandan, and her daughter's boyfriend, who is Italian. They are really wonderful people, and I sat with the daughter and her boyfriend and we traded different stories about the places we come from and places we've visited. It was a nice time to sit back, sip our coffee and snack on a bowl of popcorn and just enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Coffee at Dusk
As I mentioned earlier, Saturday we had a planned blackout from 7 am
until half past 7 in the evening. I wish they would plan the blackouts
from 6am to 6pm because it gets dark around 6:30 in the evenings here. I
had been immersed in reading a book, and since the lights weren't back
on yet, I lit a candle. However, soon there was a knock on my door; it
was Birkay, the housekeeper, and she had a candle in each hand. I told
her I still had my candles from Tuesday, but she replaced a short candle
on my nightstand with a new one she had brought. A few minutes later,
Sintayehu came up the stairs and said I could join them for a
spontaneous coffee ceremony downstairs if I liked. I followed him down
and found my coworker K already sitting there in candlelight, along with
Birkay, the gatekeeper Ato Malica, and Max the dog. I took a seat with
everyone and waited as they prepared the coffee in small china cups. We
drank the first cup and chatted, Ato Malica trying to teach me a few
words in Amaharic, and then had a second cup. After 30 minutes or so,
with renewed energy, K and I excused ourselves and headed off to catch a
minibus and get dinner somewhere in town. As we walked along the road,
the streetlights slowly flickered to life just slightly ahead of schedule.
until half past 7 in the evening. I wish they would plan the blackouts
from 6am to 6pm because it gets dark around 6:30 in the evenings here. I
had been immersed in reading a book, and since the lights weren't back
on yet, I lit a candle. However, soon there was a knock on my door; it
was Birkay, the housekeeper, and she had a candle in each hand. I told
her I still had my candles from Tuesday, but she replaced a short candle
on my nightstand with a new one she had brought. A few minutes later,
Sintayehu came up the stairs and said I could join them for a
spontaneous coffee ceremony downstairs if I liked. I followed him down
and found my coworker K already sitting there in candlelight, along with
Birkay, the gatekeeper Ato Malica, and Max the dog. I took a seat with
everyone and waited as they prepared the coffee in small china cups. We
drank the first cup and chatted, Ato Malica trying to teach me a few
words in Amaharic, and then had a second cup. After 30 minutes or so,
with renewed energy, K and I excused ourselves and headed off to catch a
minibus and get dinner somewhere in town. As we walked along the road,
the streetlights slowly flickered to life just slightly ahead of schedule.
Lada trouble
Friday night my coworker K accompanied me to the German restaurant
Garden Brau for some bratwurst and micro brew. We had one each of their
light (blondy) and dark (ebony) beers and talked about other places we'd
traveled and our impressions of Ethiopia. After dinner we decided to get
a little blue taxi back to Chez Glo guesthouse. The first taxi we
approached signaled that his friend was there first so we should go in
his cab, so I asked him how much to Rwanda Rd. I'm used to paying a
little bit more as an out-of-towner, but he quoted me 10 birr more than
what we'd ever paid before so I started to walk away. As expected, his
price suddenly dropped to what we're usually charged.
So we jumped in his small Soviet-made Lada and he headed down the road
toward Bole Road, where we would then turn and go another five minutes
to our guesthouse. However, as we reached Bole, the Lada sputtered, and
at the turn, it stalled. The traffic on Bole wasn't upon us just yet,
but K was already reaching for the door handle, preparing to run from
the car lest we get hit by oncoming cars. When the driver unsuccessfully
tried to get the car going again, I joined K and we hopped out. The
driver leaned out his window and asked if I could please give him a
push. I thought it was probably a good idea not to leave his car as it
was, since he'd drifted to the center of Bole now and headlights were
now visibly getting nearer. We gave his car a few shoves and he steered
it off to the side well in time. He leaned out his window again and said
for us to wait, as he tried to turn the engine again. We waved him off
and traversed the remaining 4 blocks to Chez Glo firmly on foot. I guess
he had been trying to negotiate a high enough fare to fix his taxi, but
it's probably better to find a Toyota or a Peugeot at the very least
next time and leave the Lada parked along the curb where they belong.
Garden Brau for some bratwurst and micro brew. We had one each of their
light (blondy) and dark (ebony) beers and talked about other places we'd
traveled and our impressions of Ethiopia. After dinner we decided to get
a little blue taxi back to Chez Glo guesthouse. The first taxi we
approached signaled that his friend was there first so we should go in
his cab, so I asked him how much to Rwanda Rd. I'm used to paying a
little bit more as an out-of-towner, but he quoted me 10 birr more than
what we'd ever paid before so I started to walk away. As expected, his
price suddenly dropped to what we're usually charged.
So we jumped in his small Soviet-made Lada and he headed down the road
toward Bole Road, where we would then turn and go another five minutes
to our guesthouse. However, as we reached Bole, the Lada sputtered, and
at the turn, it stalled. The traffic on Bole wasn't upon us just yet,
but K was already reaching for the door handle, preparing to run from
the car lest we get hit by oncoming cars. When the driver unsuccessfully
tried to get the car going again, I joined K and we hopped out. The
driver leaned out his window and asked if I could please give him a
push. I thought it was probably a good idea not to leave his car as it
was, since he'd drifted to the center of Bole now and headlights were
now visibly getting nearer. We gave his car a few shoves and he steered
it off to the side well in time. He leaned out his window again and said
for us to wait, as he tried to turn the engine again. We waved him off
and traversed the remaining 4 blocks to Chez Glo firmly on foot. I guess
he had been trying to negotiate a high enough fare to fix his taxi, but
it's probably better to find a Toyota or a Peugeot at the very least
next time and leave the Lada parked along the curb where they belong.
St. George from start to finish
Friday was a public holiday, so after breakfast, my colleague K and I headed out to explore Addis a little bit. Our first stop was St. George Cathedral, so we took a minibus taxi up to Arat Kilo and asked around for directions. By chance, we ran into Esa, a new trainee at the water technology center, so he walked with us and chatted on our way up to the gates of the cathedral. We bid Esa adieu and ventured through the crowd to see the 100 year old place of worship dedicated to Ethiopia's patron saint. Less a place for sightseers, we didn't intrude on those rejoicing for too long, but took pleasure in seeing small groups of people crowded around a man beating a drum and leading them in song. Other churchgoers headed through the doors of the octagonal building to worship indoors, but we decided to forgo entrance ourselves since we were wearing casual clothes and sporting our cameras.
After we left St. George Cathedral, we went up to Shiromeda to try and find a hiking train, but to no real avail. We did do quite a bit of walking around though and saw another church, but this one hidden back behind a little shantytown. A few local kids gathered behind us and began asking for birr, but an onlooking adult scolded them and told them to scatter, which they did immediately. In Ethiopia, beggars are generally unobtrusive, and if they get too adamant, nearby locals will often intercede by calling them off. The country, despite its poverty, keeps a firm grip on its pride.
K and I got back to Bole Road and headed over to Elephant Walk cafe (previously visited here) for lunch. We ordered fried rice with perch fish, but the waitress came back a minute later and told us that it was no longer available. I ended up getting the chicken sandwich again and K ordered plain fried rice, and we ordered a couple of St. George beers as well. Ah yes, the patron beer brewed locally in Addis Ababa.
After we left St. George Cathedral, we went up to Shiromeda to try and find a hiking train, but to no real avail. We did do quite a bit of walking around though and saw another church, but this one hidden back behind a little shantytown. A few local kids gathered behind us and began asking for birr, but an onlooking adult scolded them and told them to scatter, which they did immediately. In Ethiopia, beggars are generally unobtrusive, and if they get too adamant, nearby locals will often intercede by calling them off. The country, despite its poverty, keeps a firm grip on its pride.
K and I got back to Bole Road and headed over to Elephant Walk cafe (previously visited here) for lunch. We ordered fried rice with perch fish, but the waitress came back a minute later and told us that it was no longer available. I ended up getting the chicken sandwich again and K ordered plain fried rice, and we ordered a couple of St. George beers as well. Ah yes, the patron beer brewed locally in Addis Ababa.
Energy independence
Addis Ababa runs on hydroelectricity to a good extent, and since this is
the dry season, there are scheduled blackouts throughout the city.
Tuesdays and Saturdays there is no electricity from 7am until about
7:30pm. This is during the daylight hours for the most part, so no real
inconvenience unless you are planning on watching television. But most
Ethiopians have too many things to do, and for a visitor in town, why
would I not take advantage of the time to go out and explore.
I met up with S, an independent consultant who has been coming to
Ethiopia for the past 30 years. He's well acquainted with the town and
is fluent in the local language. He recommended that we grab a taxi up
to Piazza, a somewhat posh street lined with jewelry stores and
traditional furniture and souvenir shops, and just walk around. As soon
as we arrived, S and I stopped at a fruit stand and I watched as S joked
around with the shopkeeper, eventually buying a small bag of oranges.
Although it is the dry season now, the rainy season is only a month or
two away and soon there would be countless watermelon, papaya and mango
lavishly displayed in similar stands around town.
Piazza used to be a bustling part of town, sort of like Ginza in Tokyo
or State Street in Chicago, but has since lost some of its luster as the
younger generation filters down to Bole Road, the main strip that leads
through the heart of the city. But Piazza had plenty to offer in terms
of people watching, window shopping and sightseeing. After going to a
few shops, we stopped for a Pepsi and had our shoes shined along the
side of the road. After walking a little further, S and I headed to a
celebrated Ethiopian coffee shop near a cluster of government offices
called Tomoca Coffee, a small space with a steady stream of customers
who would order a small cup of 20 cent joe and sip it as they stood
around the counter top tables along one wall. A few other
out-of-towners, like ourselves, came through and ordered bags of roasted
beans--a large selection of beans from around Ethiopia, such as Harar
and Jima. We added a little sugar to our short glasses of black coffee
and sipped it as we philosophized and talked politics under a yellow
sign that quoted Balzac, "When you drink a cup of coffee, ideas come in
marching like an army."
the dry season, there are scheduled blackouts throughout the city.
Tuesdays and Saturdays there is no electricity from 7am until about
7:30pm. This is during the daylight hours for the most part, so no real
inconvenience unless you are planning on watching television. But most
Ethiopians have too many things to do, and for a visitor in town, why
would I not take advantage of the time to go out and explore.
I met up with S, an independent consultant who has been coming to
Ethiopia for the past 30 years. He's well acquainted with the town and
is fluent in the local language. He recommended that we grab a taxi up
to Piazza, a somewhat posh street lined with jewelry stores and
traditional furniture and souvenir shops, and just walk around. As soon
as we arrived, S and I stopped at a fruit stand and I watched as S joked
around with the shopkeeper, eventually buying a small bag of oranges.
Although it is the dry season now, the rainy season is only a month or
two away and soon there would be countless watermelon, papaya and mango
lavishly displayed in similar stands around town.
Piazza used to be a bustling part of town, sort of like Ginza in Tokyo
or State Street in Chicago, but has since lost some of its luster as the
younger generation filters down to Bole Road, the main strip that leads
through the heart of the city. But Piazza had plenty to offer in terms
of people watching, window shopping and sightseeing. After going to a
few shops, we stopped for a Pepsi and had our shoes shined along the
side of the road. After walking a little further, S and I headed to a
celebrated Ethiopian coffee shop near a cluster of government offices
called Tomoca Coffee, a small space with a steady stream of customers
who would order a small cup of 20 cent joe and sip it as they stood
around the counter top tables along one wall. A few other
out-of-towners, like ourselves, came through and ordered bags of roasted
beans--a large selection of beans from around Ethiopia, such as Harar
and Jima. We added a little sugar to our short glasses of black coffee
and sipped it as we philosophized and talked politics under a yellow
sign that quoted Balzac, "When you drink a cup of coffee, ideas come in
marching like an army."
Friday, May 1, 2009
Backstreet Boys
There were 5 of us, so three of us jumped in our rent-a-car with our driver and the remaining two guys grabbed a taxi. We agreed to meet at the Ethiopian version of Starbucks called Kaldi's Coffee. For whatever reason, our driver drove straight past Kaldi in the far lane, so it would have been pointless/dangerous to tell him to pull over at the last minute. I told him to take a right at the next street and pull over. Since Kaldi was not our final destination, I asked my coworker M if we should just meet at the restaurant instead.
I had been to the Chinese restaurant we had agreed on once before (here) and thought I might be able to retrace the way. However, it had been in the afternoon last time I went and now it was pitch black outside. As we drove down the road, I told the driver to take a right after Alize jazz club and go down that road. He did, and then--without being told to--turned right again at the next road. We pulled up to a trendy looking Italian restaurant and he stopped the car. The two colleagues in the car with me said, "Oh, this place looks nice." I broke it to them that we were looking for a Chinese place with blue and red Christmas lights on it and asked the driver to go around past the jazz club again and try a different road.
After 10 minutes we were completely lost in the backroads, so we called M again and he directed us to turn right at Kaldi's Coffee, then take the next left and a quick right down a road that was under construction...or at least it appeared so (hard to tell in Addis) because rubble piled up along both sides. Our small sedan rumbled down the road until we saw the place up ahead, parked in front and piled out. I looked down the road and saw that we had been less than 300 meters away when we took a right before. I sighed, then signed the driver's timesheet and bid him goodnight, and then joined 7 of my coworkers at a large table, complete with the familiar lazy susan, just as they had ordered a round of St. George's beer.
I had been to the Chinese restaurant we had agreed on once before (here) and thought I might be able to retrace the way. However, it had been in the afternoon last time I went and now it was pitch black outside. As we drove down the road, I told the driver to take a right after Alize jazz club and go down that road. He did, and then--without being told to--turned right again at the next road. We pulled up to a trendy looking Italian restaurant and he stopped the car. The two colleagues in the car with me said, "Oh, this place looks nice." I broke it to them that we were looking for a Chinese place with blue and red Christmas lights on it and asked the driver to go around past the jazz club again and try a different road.
After 10 minutes we were completely lost in the backroads, so we called M again and he directed us to turn right at Kaldi's Coffee, then take the next left and a quick right down a road that was under construction...or at least it appeared so (hard to tell in Addis) because rubble piled up along both sides. Our small sedan rumbled down the road until we saw the place up ahead, parked in front and piled out. I looked down the road and saw that we had been less than 300 meters away when we took a right before. I sighed, then signed the driver's timesheet and bid him goodnight, and then joined 7 of my coworkers at a large table, complete with the familiar lazy susan, just as they had ordered a round of St. George's beer.
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