(written a few days ago)
I am currently reading The Chains of Heaven: An Ethiopian Romance By Phillip Marsden. It is a fantastic book about his walking journey through Northern Ethiopia. It also includes a nice amount of history of the country. I highly recommend it if you can get your hands on it. The following is an excerpt I read before starting our journey from Gondar to Simien.
“Walking is what villagers did. They walked and walked, to find grazing, to church, to market, to clinics. Until the nineteenth century wheels were unknown in the highlands. They still are in most places - no barrows, no carts; just legs and shoulders and mule-backs and the glimpse of a government or NGO 4x4 as it races by, leaving you coughing in its dust-wake.”
Yesterday we were in the 4x4. We were leaving the dust wake.
We left Gondar at about 11, with a driver and a 4x4. We said good bye to our fantastic hotel, fantastic host and the sanity of that small city. The task ahead was surviving the 3.5 hour drive to our hotel in Simien National Park. (note on buses: while buses are unbelievably cheap, the Ethiopia tour book described them as vomit comets. Not for me.)
The idea of traveling down African roads in a 4x4 sounded pretty romantic. I had visions of zooming down flat, straight dirt roads, looking out the window at trees and birds. I must have gotten that from watching some show on the Discovery channel about driving in some other part of the world. The road from Gondar to Simien is fierce. It is also under construction. Chinese contractors have been working on it for 1 year. They will be working on it for at least 2 more. It has huge ups and downs and is extremely dusty. We were traveling on a Saturday, market day in every village, so many more people were out than usual. I am not sure what it would be like on another day, I suspect still pretty full of people. We were almost always honking at folks to get out of the way. Then we drove past kicking up an enormous amount of dust.
Because the road is under construction we were constantly moving through construction sites and avoiding the dust of road-making machines. We also had to drive along temporary side roads and then back on to the unfinished main road. We did hit a point where the road was pretty much finished. It was amazing and fantastic and short. Oh, oh so short. For 2 km my brain was not bouncing around in my head. I should say this almost finished section would not count as finished at home. It just was mostly flat and mostly smooth. This will never be a rollerblading road. Occasionally our driver drove around barriers set up to keep folks off the road. He knew his way so well that he knew when we really couldn’t go through the construction sites and when we could. He said the road changed often enough that it would be different from one drive to the next.
Next to the road were a lot of people, especially children watching sheep or walking to or from the market. There was also the occasional newly built dorms for all the Chinese workers. They were insta-towns that reminded me of the wild west. Sometimes we would drive near local peoples’ homes. In the more rural areas the kids all wanted to wave and they were excited when we waved back. As we got closer to a town or to the park that waving turned from a “hello” to a hand out, to calling after us “give give” (that was in Amharic). We stopped for a minute to look at an amazing view and so the driver could check the cap on the gas tank. A few kids came running up and then just stared at us. Of course this made me uncomfortable. Once he fixed the gas tank (always a good thing) I asked him if the kids just wanted to stare at us, or if they wanted something from us. He said many tourists give things to the kids, money, pens etc. They wanted us to give them things. I asked what he thought about that. He said, “it is not good.” Our hotel in Simien is very clear. Their materials say, “You give kids pens thinking you are making scholars, instead you are making beggars.” They ask tourists to donate a bench to the local school instead (so for $20 we could buy a locally made bench for the kids to sit on in school, pretty darn cool right? Here is the catch: There are no banks we can use between now and Mekele. The hotel does not take credit cards. At this point I am not sure we are going to have an extra $20 to give in cash as we leave. This whole no ATM thing stresses me out. Andrew went from bank to bank to bank in Milan trying to buy travelers’ checks. They all said no. We couldn’t find an AmEx office in Malan. No Thomas Cook. We could have travelers’ checks mailed to us, if we had a week’s notice, but otherwise no travelers’ checks. The rest of the world outside Ethiopia has moved on from travelers’ checks.)
I had some snacks, but I had hoped that we would be able to stop for food on the way. Alas, this did not happen and the ride turned out to be 2 hours longer than I expected and I found myself getting pretty darn hungry on this journey. I passed out the few snacks I had one by one. I decided that it was in my best interest that the driver not get hungry. He seemed amused by me.
Many months ago Andrew found online a program of a tour company that will take you overland from Gibralter to Cape Town in 23 weeks, camping. He read the description and got stars in his eyes. After about 1 hour in the 4x4 yesterday I decided Andrew will have to wait for his next wife to do Africa overland. He didn’t seem horribly disappointed when I told him this. (I hope it is not because he is looking forward to his next wife!)
I felt jostled around like a cocktail in a shaker. We moved from the right side of the road to the left and back to the ride to avoid the biggest bumps, but it was still bumpy. I have such impatience with Americans in suburbs and cities who drive 4x4s. They are just so silly and wasteful on a paved street. However, yesterday I wished I was in a Hummer.
After what felt like a very long time we arrived in Debark, the last town before the park. At this point everyone but me knew what was going to happen next. We stopped in the park office. We filled out some forms (by we, I mean Andrew, that is his job: form-filling out) He talked with the Park Office employee. They said really big numbers. Andrew pulled out a wad of cash and counted it on the table. (umm, what is happening here? I thought park admission wasn’t that high? We don’t have that much cash…) The next thing I knew we had a guide and a scout. Andrew asks the Park Office employee, “will they have a place to stay?” He says, “yes.” And then we are off. I climb back into the car and a young woman in jeans a t-shirt and a sweater follows. Then a man with a very large gun runs and jumps in. We are staying at the Simien Park Hotel, the highest hotel in Africa. It is not camping. We are not trekking. We will have hot water for heaven’s sake. We need a man with a gun? When we visited the hotel office in Addis to confirm our reservation the woman never mentioned the part where we pick up a guide and a scout. I am also concerned, where will they stay (in our room? Umm, that would have been good to know) what will they eat? The guide has no bag. No extra clothes, nothing. How does that work? Wont she be cold? It took me awhile to adjust to this new idea.
As we were making the last 1 hour climb to the park our car broke down. Too much dust. It just would not get into gear anymore. We started rolling backwards down the dirt road. Surprisingly, this did not concern me at all. At this point I had so much faith in our driver I was not worried for a second as he guided us down the hill. We all got out. Kids came running. This is when we experienced the first benefit of man with large gun. The kids, they stayed away a respectful distance. He talked to them. He would not let them beg from us, and he had a gun. More of a crowd formed around the car. A man with his son stood and watched. Our driver took out his tools and worked on the car. I took a picture of Andrew and Mola, our man with gun. Then Andrew took a picture of men with Firnooz, our guide. That night we erased the picture of me with Firnooz. I look about 4 times her size. (I think I am only 3 times her size) I will try again for a slightly more flattering shot.
The driver got us all back in the car and we tried again. It failed. We all piled out again. The man and his son were still watching. The driver worked some more. We all piled back in again. This time it worked. The man and his son smiled and waved as we drove away.
We finally got to the lodge and checked in. Mola and Firnooz waited while Andrew and I got a late lunch. I still have no idea where they are staying. I decided I needed to stop worrying about it. Andrew pointed out, “you are her responsibility, not the other way around.”
I was sitting eating lunch when a very fat woman walked in. Then a group of much older folks walked in. I realized I had a problem. You could look at those folks and know that they were not up for hiking far, but I look young (at least in these parts, it is all relative) and I look fit. We are at 10,000 ft here. It is high. Remember the whole “highest hotel in Africa“ thing?. The air is thin and I got winded just walking the short slope to our room. I went to Firnooz and said, “my heart is not so good.” She looked at me unclear. I said “look” and pulled down my shirt and showed her my scar. Her eyes popped out just a little. Then I said, “twice” She said, “oh.”
Finally, finally, finally, after a long and painful ride, it was time to do what we came to do. It was time to look at monkeys. Gelada Baboons, which are really monkeys, so why they are called baboons I do not know, are “endemic” to Ethiopia and live in the park. We drove past some on our drive. Lets start with the word “endemic” I learned a very different meaning for “endemic” in public health school. In this context it means native to and only in a region. So the California Black Bear is endemic to California (Mike, is this correct? It is only in CA, right?) Gelada are endemic to Ethiopia. The 4 of us walked outside the lodge grounds to a ridge and down into a Gelada area. There we sat and watched them. We could get very close. In fact, we could get as close as they would let us. So Andrew and I moved in slowly and sat quietly until they forgot we were there. At one point I turned around and Andrew was surrounded on all sides by monkeys. He looked very happy. They mostly dig in the grass. It really shouldn’t be as interesting to watch them as it is. They sit there and dig. Occasionally they yell at each other. A male may run around and yell a bit. A baby may climb on its mother’s back. Sometimes some kids play with each other before digging in the ground again. We saw a few mating, which was both brief and very exciting. We just sat there, with the monkeys, for a long time, totally happy to watch them dig in the ground. Then it was time to walk back up to the hotel. On the way our guide pointed out local plants and told us about the park. She was careful to take lots of breaks so I could breathe. She showed us one plant that local folks use for soap and that is poisonous if eaten. She told us the names of the birds. The birds, oh the birds. So graceful. (this morning they were also very loud)
It was a climb back up the hill, but it was manageable and when we got back I was proud of myself. Then we said goodbye to Firnooz and Mola and took a lovely shower. Relatively clean clothes. The colonialists had it right, after being out for a day and before dinner it is good to bath and change into relatively clean clothes. We had a drink in the bar (my mother-in-law would love this local wine here) and then ate dinner.
A few notes on dinner: 1. It is western food. We talked with the head guy and told him we liked Ethiopian food and he almost fell over. He said most western tourists say it is “spicy and oily” and don’t want it. That is sad. Ethiopians know how to make good food out of local ingredients. They know how to cook a skinny tough chicken in spices so that it is flavorful and soft. The western preparation does not do the local food justice. 2. Dinner and lunch are a set price. By far the highest price we have paid in Ethiopia. Fair enough, they have to bring all the food up that darn road, so we should expect some expense. Andrew did the math. My dinner last night costs the same as 8 days wages for our man with a gun. 3. I am getting a little tired of everything being new all the time. The menu for dinner last night said, “1. Soup 2. Lamb or Chicken 3. Dessert” and then the price. In my world that means you tell the waitress if you want Lamb or chicken and then they just bring you soup and desert. Nope. Not here. Here if you don’t ask for the soup, they don’t bring it. There was a look of total surprise on the waitresses face when I asked about the soup. “You want soup???” It doesn’t matter, I didn’t care that I had soup after rather then before my main course. I am just getting a little sick of always having to figure things out new. I just figured out (almost) how to eat Ethiopian food with just my right hand and not make too much of a mess.
It gets cold in the mountains at night. Sometimes below zero. Andrew, always hot, sat in his t-shirt at dinner last night. The couple one table over had on all their clothes and hot water bottles on the legs. I told Andrew he was being a show off.
We fell asleep almost right away after dinner. (9:30 pm, the new bedtime) I was deeply thankful that we were not camping.
I have sat writing this post for the last 2 hours watching the sun slowly go down over the ridge. Not a bad way to spend an evening.
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