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| Craig : 27 April 2007 : Yabello, Ethiopia
It's been a day of changes...(Thankfully!) There are less hills and a more rolling landscape; the people seem friendlier and more colourful; and then there are the anthills!! 5, 6, even 7meters tall, made from the red-ochre coloured sand we see all around us, they reall7y stand out against the green backdrop like massive sculptures dotted all over. The women down here are all dressed in colourful fabrics and jewelery, even those carrying big bundles of sticks are "dressed up" as if they were going somnewhere special! |
| Craig : 23 April 2007 : Koka, Ethiopia
Having stayed up rather late last night (fixing my wheel and packing bags..) we both slpet in a bit. I finished the last of my cereal (special "city-treat") and some "dubbo" (bread) and then headed off to tackle the police-ststaion to get a report on my theft...not so easy! Problems with translation and red tape meant that an hour later I had an unofficial piece of paper, with a hand-written description of events (in Amheric!) addressed to the Central police station. THe next step should be to go there and get a translated, typed up version but I decide that, with a few official enough looking stamps on it, this will have to do! We go and draw more cash from the Sheriton (this time on my credit card - ouch!) and then go off south to find the South African Embassy. Amazingly, BOTH my parcels are waiting for me, though dispointingly Simon's parcel is not..? Zizi, the official we speak with, gives us a packet of SIMBA, crinkle-cut chips and we head off to get some lunch and look through my parcels. Eager to leave Addis Abeba (neither of us can think of a redeeming feature!) we ride out on a big and very busy road with drivers that are possibly worse than the Sudanese (!) overtaking head-on at the most rediculous times. We stopped in "Mojo" at a wonderful hotel, ate ice-creams and drank delicious machiatos. Wishing we were spending the night amongst the pretty bouganvilia flowers, we head back onto the road again to try and put in some extra miles before dark... We find a dodgy, very basic hotel that doesn't even serve coffee, so have to head into town for a hot drink before bed. |
| Craig : 22 April 2007 : How to say Hello in Amheric? Addis Abeba, Ethiopia Where we're from, people tend to greet each-other with a raised hand, often waved from side to side and accompanied with a vocalised "Good Morning!" or simple "Hello!", but here in Ethiopia the culture is somewhat different as it is done with an outstretched hand, palm upwards (slightly cupped) and vocalising takes on the form of several choices depending on descretion, ranging through "Gimme money / pen / exercise-book (yes! We certainly carry loads of those!) even to requests of "Gimme Highland" (the local bottled water manufacturer - ironic, as we haven't drunk bottled water since Wadi Halfa!) The whole scene is rather sad and detracts from the wonderful scenery that we're passing through and those w genuinely nice people we meet who don't ask for something before we say goodbye! It seems the entire country has become so used to hand-outs that it's now second nature to request (or often demand!) them from any "Ferengi" they meet. What's worse is that most parents don't scold there children for asking and either encourage them to or even lead by example. The result is a country that is unfortunately being spoilt By it's own people, driving more and more ferengi away as the stories get out... |
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Simon : 22 April 2007 : Angels and Lalibela A goofy Ronaldhinio grins at me from tatty t-shirts everywhere but Beckham still reigns in Ethiopia. Even more so than in Egypt, Ethiopians want to talk football and kids vie for my approval of their club: Man-U, Spurs, Chelsea and Arsenal. Everyone is excited about the Premiership race and English prospects in the Champions League. One boy tells me of his family where all five brothers and sisters support different English clubs. In sport there is no need for logic and passions here are strong. It is not possible to make the journey to Lalibela without feeling like you are on a pilgrimage: the road demands it and the rock-hewn churches inspire it. Lalibela sits at an altitude of almost 3,000m and to get there we climbed steep passes through villages where green fields sit just waiting for a game of cricket, past thick forests, and plunging gorges surely another 1,000m below. Breathtaking views surround us from this twisted, rutted dirt road we hurtle long, one new weld away from joining the tank carcasses we see still littering the roadside. The lift we hitched (we quickly realized we were right to leave the bikes behind, this diversion would have taken us three weeks to cycle) broke down within half an hour, the front steerer snapped off the wheel. Held together with string we found the nearest welder just 500m up the road, where naked children crouched at a fire outside his hut and cows drank from a bucket. Amazingly, within one hour we were on the road again, wincing as the driver hit every pothole with the same enthusiasm as before. Surrounded by steep mountains that form a natural amphitheatre, Lalibela sits atop a ridge that continues still higher to the stone monastery that marks the peak. We wandered around the churches at dawn, catching the last of mass in the early half-light. The churches have been carved from the bedrock and so it is possible to stand at roof height, looking down on the pink and red walls. Here people pray, wrapped in white shawls and surrounding the churches as the sermon is played out. Below us, men and women stand with their faces pressed to the rock walls murmuring in prayer, others read from their bibles or lie face down in supplication. Breaking the reverence I have to laugh as I watch a baby hidden under a woman's shawl pee straight onto the rock. Although Ameraic is spoken here, the sermon is still in the old, dying language of Geez. Privy to all this, we enter the church where drums are beaten and old priests lean on their staffs. It is truly amazing to think that these churches were carved from rock, both inside and out. But this is not some rough attempt at carving a crude, cave-like space. Lines are clean and there is a high level of detail in the arches, the windows, the symbols and alters. Steps have been worn smooth from the feet of the thousands and thousands of barefoot pilgrims who have passed through. Understandably the legend is that they were completed with the help of angels. Narrow tunnels under the churches - still unlit today, the priests feel their way - connect the churches and are used during the preparation of communion so that priests are not tempted by the outside world. Outside one church there is a pool 18m deep into which infertile women jump with hope at festivals. Our guide, Thomas, tells us how when he was younger he earned money retrieving the dead bodies (six to twelve a festival) of those who drowned or missed the narrow pool as the women jump from the surrounding rock, about 6m high. To this day people gather to watch the spectacle. At the church of St. George, crucifix-shaped, the bones of two Portuguese pilgrims (c.1700's) still lie in a hole in the rock, feet sticking out. The bodies were left there out of respect for their spirituality (they stayed in Lalibela after becoming so moved by the beauty of the churches). Just to remind me that this place was made by man after all, I watch one man kissing the stone in prayer break away for a moment to gawp at an attractive tourist walking past Religion is so pervasive here and an eye-opener for someone who has experienced secular South Africa and Europe. Every man, woman and child bears a Christian symbol of sorts: a large crucifix around the neck is most common, but we also see crucifix tattoos on foreheads and temples. Even the bus is decorated with a large picture of Madonna and Child, postcards of Jesus pinned everywhere. On mountain passes we cycle past many monks and hermits who live off alms, living in wooden shelters that barely provide protection. On the bus from Lalibela there is a collection for one monk, even poor shepherds contributing. Strangely though, the plastic packet full of coins and notes is simply tossed as we hurtle past. The tank corpses we see littering the road are a reminder of a time when an African regime (in this case Mengistu) could prop itself up and gain a measure of legitimacy by dabbling in socialism and exploiting Cold War rivalries. In this case the Derg, supported by Soviet and Cuban soldiers and arms. Today, Ethiopians are immensely proud of their flag and we see the green, yellow and red stripes everywhere, familiar to us as a part of pop-culture, appropriated by Rastafarians and pot-smokers around the world. In Bahir Dah we stayed on the edges of Lake Tana, not far from the source of the Blue Nile. This is an attractive, relaxed town where almost everyone rides a bicycle and we can walk without being hassled or stared at. It is true that every village has an idiot, but Ethiopian villages tend to be over-represented. Gormless, slack-jawed faces gather to stare at us wherever we stop and they will only leave when we do, never tiring of watching us do nothing in particular. Children we can understand, but the adults we find disturbing. From the side of the road, all day long: "you, you/where are you go/give me...money, pen, exercise book, bicycle". Ignore them or ride too slowly and you might get a stone in the back of the head. I wander if Bob Geldof ever road a bicycle in Ethiopia? There is a tragic culture of begging in Ethiopia and I can only think it stems from the country's aid dependency. Everywhere we see aid partnerships with foreign governments (we ride south on Japanese and Chinese roads) which of course are not bad in themselves but somehow it is reflected negatively in the average person's attitudes to foreigners. Random conversations are so often just a prelude to a request for money or something else. Yes, Ethiopia is poor, but I have seen poverty and I have also seen immense pride and generosity elsewhere. One university graduate tells us a story from his village where farmers refused a government request to help transport materials for a new school in their village, only obliging - but outsmarted - after being told it included a shipment of Canadian wheat aid. I sympathize with young people here who can all tell you the price of illegally entering just about any Western country you mention. Even South Africa (illegal entry R10,000) is spoken of as a land of full employment and many have pinned their hopes on making it there. The road to Addis Ababa includes a crossing of the Blue Nile Gorge, a 19km dirt road descent followed by a 23km ascent through steep, stony switchbacks. The hardest climb I have ever ridden (barely turning the pedals at 6km/h in places), I assume the phrase 'breath-taking view' was coined by a cyclist here because it is one of the most beautiful valleys I have seen. On that day we descended over 1,000m and then climbed another 2,000m with gritted teeth. An endless procession of lorries snorts past us, kicking up dust as they carry sand for the Japanese paving project we were too late to enjoy. If we stop for a rest, the drivers all stop to ask if we are ok, and others have done the same all through Ethiopia. In Gondar I try some 'qat' (pronounced 'shut') - green leaves that are commonly chewed for their amphetamine-like effect - but the leaves are bitter and I can't chew enough to feel anything so give up. In Addis Ababa, where we are now, we see the shaking qat addicts along with the destitute and the lame. From what we have seen, this is a squalid, tragic city where a naked man might sit quite normally on the side walk, burns victims are laid out on the road to receive spare change, and women with no legs must drag themselves along a road. It is heartbreaking and we look forward to the next leg of our journey to Kenya. |
| Craig : 21 April 2007 : STOP THIEF! : Addis Abeba, Ethiopia Today one of my worst (traveling) nightmares came true! An aggressive pickpocket (nothing subtle here!) took my wallet in broad daylight as I passed a local cinema. Ironically we had just visited the Sherton Hotel (with all it's scarily shiny opulance!) to use their ATM, the first one we've been able to use since Egypt, and so I was carrying three VISA cards and a sizeable amount of cash! Kibrom, a local resident, kindly helped us find a police-station, though being a Saturday, they were unable to issue anything formal until Monday! The rest of the day was an improvement though, with several successful shopping ventures including a decent pot for cooking on the road (no more 3-stage cooking sessions in our tiny pot!) and really good supplies in a small, but extremely well-stocked superette that even did a reccie for some bread for us too. I finished off the day with a (rather rough and ready) massage for 70Birr (11GBP) though missed Clare's expert hands even more than ever on this trip! |
| Craig : 19 April 2007 : Welcome to the "Hoteela Ethiopia" : Hambiso, Ethiopia I'm sitting in the hotel cafÁé writing my diary by candle-light as the power has just blown! A room here for two of us costs 10birr (60p) and is unbeatable value! We're now at about 3000m altitude, having climbed more than 2000m today, much of it on the toughest gravel climb either of us have ever attempted! The day had started well with a large bowl of porridge that we cooked ourselves on the fire that our host's wife, Mrs Tadesse, had kindly prepared at 6am. We then packed up our bikes in front of a growing crowd of local school-children, said our thank-yous and goodbyes, and continued the rocky descent into the Blue Nile Gorge. The climb back out was 23km and easily averaged 1/10 with some bits much steeper. At first I handled well, under the impression that the climb was roughly 8-10km's...but realising the true extent of what we had to climb I began to crack, struggling to hold a decent line through the heavy bumps and large rocks that constituted the "road"...until I through my bike to one side, sat down on a small patch of grass overlooking the gorge and had a good old cry! Feeling so weak I missed Jamaica more than ever as she really is my strength and stability! Feeling a bit better, I tried again, but often fell over, too tired to keep my balance. Due to the punishing surface pushing was perhaps even tougher, though my only option for some of the stretches. Refusing help from a young goatherd (i'm determined to complete this journey under my own steam!) I soldiered on until finally I pedalled onto the tarmac at the top, accompanied by a sign proclaiming the involvement of the Japanese government in the "upgrading" of this trunk road. Maybe we should have just waited another year?! In the next town, the chai and sticky buns tasted extra good...average speed so far today? 10km/h! Lunch a bit further on recharged our systems still further and, feeling stronger and stronger, we raised our day's mileage to a respectable 93km. |
| Craig : 17 April 2007 : Trees...! : Bekuli, Ethiopia
Ethiopia seems (to me) to have the most incredible range of truly beautiful trees! Some grow up tall, thin and very straight and are seen being used for building houses all over. Others spread out wide from huge gnarled and twised trunks, offering wonderful shady picnic spots and bringing fairy-tale mahic landscapes to mind. Then of course there are a few that look like extras from the "Lord of the Rings", weather-beaten but alive and you wouldn't be surprised if they just started to walk off through the fields! |
| Craig : 14 April 2007 : The Rock-hewn Churches of Lalibela, Ethiopia
I've had a bad stomach for days now...not sure if it's my greed for all those wonderful fruit-smoothies in Gondar or just an accumulative effect of all the injera and inevitable portions of meat? (After the fasting period it's been nearly impossible to get a vegetarian option other than the odd egg dish!) I'm popping Imodiums on a regular basis and hoping for the best! Back to Lalibela though... Berkela, our "guest-house" manager had organised for his twin-brother, Thomas, to guide us around the sites today. Simon and Matt (an englishman also staying at the "Jourdan") had gone off early for the mass, so I shared a quick breakfast with Thomas and then we caught them up. The churches range from vast buildings to tiny chapels, though a moment spent thinking of how each has been carved from the solid rock makes even the smallest one an impressive sight! There is no room for error as nothing other than wooden doors and glasing in some windows has been added after the carving is complete. We walked around the outsides, experienced the atmosphere of drums and chanting inside, passed theough narrow passages and even in sub-terranian tunnels that connect the various churches together...pitch black so priests would not be tempted by the outside world. Towards the end of our tour we saw the Church of St.George, three storeys high in crucifix plan, covered in orange and yellow lichens. All around, small holes in the rock walls indicated sleeping quarters for the monks, barely big enough to fit a person and more tomb than bed. As if to re-inforce this, a pair of well-preserved feet protruded from one of the holes, belonging to one of two Portuguese monks who had stayed and died in Lalibela! Later we visited the local market, bought some wild honey and then drank "Tej", the local honey-beer. (Which to me tasted more like champagne and orange-juice, not my favorite combination...but perhaps an aquired taste? Simon certainly liked his!) Still later Solomon, a local priest, led us up the mountain-side (past the wreck of a 4x4 driven off the road by a "drunk foreign attache") to a wonderful viewing point, high above the churches and literally miles above then valleys that stretch out in every direction, making this one of the most inaccessable places we've seen. Sadly, when saying goodnight to Solomon, the inevitable request for money (for a religious book) was made...even the priests expect payment for a days "friendship". |
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Simon : 10 April 2007 : Sudan and Ethiopia After two weeks of isolated camping, Khartoum was soon overwhelming. When the dust, the heat and the over-crowding became too much I imagined it suddenly pouring with rain, the jabbering hordes of fruit sellers, boys selling pens, and women in the dirt with their bags of peanuts and tomatoes all scurrying for shelter, leaving me alone. Only I'm told it last rained eight months ago. We spent two days as guests at the home of a Sudanese man we met on the ferry to Wadi Halfa. A professional family of engineers, dentists and doctors it was interesting to hear their views on Sudanese politics, which today consume so much world attention. To someone with a western perspective what they said was alarming, and yet this view was repeated elsewhere in northern Sudan: politicians in Darfur are manipulating a US and Europe still guilty over their failure to intervene in the Rwandan genocide, and that Sudanese government soldiers would not mutilate and rape because this is against Muslim teachings. Because of the intense heat and long distances we often use re-hydrate sachets as a pick-me-up in the evening. Finding a chemist in a small town we restocked, only to find they were re-selling Unicef-sponsored sachets, no doubt intended for the crisis areas. Another example of the complex problems here. We left Khartoum with fresh legs but the dust storm of the last two days persisted. Visibility was poor and the strong headwind made cycling difficult. To make matters worse the road south to Gadaref is surely the most dangerous road in Africa. In an orgy of bad driving, cars undertake trucks while they are overtaking us, trucks overtaking from the opposite direction force us repeatedly off the narrow road and into the gravel, blind rises mean nothing and the hard shoulder is just another place to undertake. Gone were the mild-mannered Sudanese we had come to love and in frustration I used my middle finger often. The endless roadkill therefore came as no surprise: bloated donkeys, bellies fit to burst in the sun, dead horses and pancake flat, cartoon-like dogs all marked the kilometers as we cycled towards Ethiopia. A full moon on a clear night in Sudan is bright enough to write by. It is so warm I prefer to sleep in the open and it is not uncommon to be woken later by the light of the moon, which when directly above you is as if someone has left a light on. In yet another example of Sudanese hospitality as we camped one night under a thorn tree near a small settlement (no more than five crude huts, the people goat herds) we were brought pancakes covered in warm camels milk. Usually we are not so lucky though and cycle touring as we are is most difficult in the evenings, when all you want to do is rest after the day's effort. But there is a campsite to find and sometimes a tent to pitch, enough wood needs to be collected, a fire made and plenty of food cooked. Then you still need to clean yourself as best you can. Understandably, this is when moods sometimes turn! Yet we have such independence this way that we wouldn't change a thing. At one village stop we shared the small wooden shelter used by labourers waiting for a lift. Here, the men lay out on the ground away from the sun and doze, and we try to do the same but for us there is no rest. I watch them lying there, immediately snoring, and envy their comfort. We are so hot (down to nothing but cycling shorts, to hell with cultural sensitivity in this heat!) yet they are fully dressed, some with jackets on. The flies don't affect them either, but our bodies are covered, and just as you start falling asleep one crawls into your nose or mouth, jolting you awake. The flat roads of Sudan gradually gave way to rolling hills as we approached the Ethiopian border at Gallabat, and we found the change in scenery refreshing. For once there were trees to provide shelter from the mid-day sun and enough wood for our fires in the evening. Excited about reaching Ethiopia we rode hard. There is an immediate change in atmosphere as you cross the border post, a small bridge over a dry river bed. Music blares out of the small, wooden shop fronts, signs advertise cold beers, girls drink unchaperoned in the tea rooms and bars, boys lounge around playing pool. It's 1999 by the Ethiopian calendar and as we have come to find out Ethiopians are partying. We camped that first night just outside Metama, waking the next day to look up at two bemused Ethiopians with rifles slung over their shoulders. Despite the fact that Ethiopians are incredibly inquisitive - we provide the entertainment wherever we stop, only we are better than TV as we give perfect reception (and we got more viewers at a tea stop than for a Champions League play-off) -the faces that crowd us are so often blank with dull and indifferent eyes, occasionally hostility. It has been a struggle communicating and I have been getting frustrated with the lack of meaningful communication, something we still managed to achieve in Sudan despite a similar language barrier. It is a 230km dirt track to Gondar and cycling is slow on the rough road, made more so by the steep climbs stuttering up into the mountains. Reaching the top of these twisty passes and stopping to look out over wooded gorges and purple skies I don't know whether to smile or cry for the sheer beauty of the place and the fact that I am here cycling it. On one climb (13km long and averaging 9 - 11% gradient) I pass a stream of villagers walking to market. Men are coaxing goats, a chicken balanced on a staff on their shoulder, women carry bags of produce, children follow. I later see the pitiful display in the market, each person with some onions or tomatoes laid out before them, others with a few papaya. The villages we pass are obviously poor, some sponsored by Unicef schemes. Like the adults, the gangs of children that surround us constantly all shout 'you, you' to get our attention. Everywhere we go it is the same grinding barrage, the enterprising ones adding 'give me money'. The young boys all have their heads shaved but for a tuft near the front, and it is only when I see a cast-off Brazil t-shirt with Ronaldo on it that I figure out why. Old. over-sized 50-Cent t-shirts are also popular. The children wear crude necklaces of rope, keys, washers and pieces of plastic. Despite the fact that they can be overwhelming, the children are surprisingly affectionate, many of the younger ones stroking my arm gently or holding my hand. I also see nine or ten year olds confidently running cafes and stores. Ethiopia has been an eye-opener so far, both for the glorious countryside and the people, and I have a feeling it will be hard going as we head to Addis Abbaba. We are now in Gondar, the old capital of Ethiopia and known as 'Africa's Camelot' because of the Fasilidas castle ruins. We hope to reach the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela next, perched high in the mountains. |
| Craig : 8 April 2007 : Resting up in Gondar City, Ethiopia
We started the day in our favourite spot here in Gondar, "Sofa Juice" where the smoothies are SO good that it's hard to stop drinking them! (And at 4birr/25p each they won't ruin the budget either...unless of course I drink them non-stop!) Frustratingly Ethiopia has no decent cakes or sweets to go with our great juices? Sudan had wonderful cherry "Babousa" and Egypt had "Burra Hasham" (like koeksusters Back in SA!) but Ethiopia only has dry sponge-cakes or dognuts that look promising on the outside, butturn out to be dry and doughy inside...what a shame! After breakfast I amused the locals in the "Retina Café" by packaging my broken digital camera, using an Ariel cardboard-box from one of the small stores. I posted it off to Ricoh in Germany hoping it at least makes it there, let alone get's repaired and returned in time for me to use it again on my trip. Later simon and I visited the "Debre Berhan Selassie Church", high above Gondar. The walls were covered in paintings, on straw-and-mud plaster, with amazingly vivid colours considering their 325-year age! We walked around the gardens, peaceful up here far away from the hustle of Gondar and it's "you-you's". |
| Craig : 5 April 2007 : Preconceptions or premonitions? : Shehedi
I arrived yesterday in Ethiopia with my head full of preconceptions...stone-throwing children, "You, you, you..!" and constant begging for money, sweets or even pens(?) but i'm pleased to say that our first full day here has been really good! Sure last night someone threw something when I sarcastically repeated "You" to him, and yes, I've already had a few requests for "sweets" and the more confusing "Give-me-a-pen!", but on the whole it's been okay. The gravel road is incredibly hard though after the luxury of Sudan's tarmac, making it tough to keep a good pace without risking a punture or further damage to my rickity rear-wheel! Lunch consisted of injera Beyeinetu, with a whole range of tasty vegetarian toppings followed by some of the best "bhuna" (coffee) we've had yet. We even managed to wangle a cot in the shade at the side of the restaurant for a rest before the afternoon stage... |
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