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The Last Day in Ethiopia: Saturday in Addis and the Long Trip Home

This was our last day in Ethiopia. While I was very anxious to get back to my family and my friends in the US, it was also a sad day. There were people here I hated to leave...we were just getting to know each other. I had more places I wanted to see. I wanted to learn more about the country, its people, its history. I wanted to see more artists’ work. I wanted to learn about the music. I wanted to see more animals, identify more birds, look for native stones. I was also already missing the team, just knowing that we would not be spending much time together after our return home.

I noticed the quiet in the rest of the group too....the pensive looks, the deep genuine smiles. We had some time today to see a bit more of the city before we left. Our flight out didn’t board until about 10 pm, so we had already planned to store all our already-packed luggage in a room at our hotel, check out, and spend a leisurely day together. Before we left, I went out front and snapped a few shots of our hotel. I realized that every shot I’d taken thus far had been of the alleyway and the rear entrance. While out there, I posed two of the girls with one of our doormen, and took a few shots of them. There he stood, gleaming white smile, between two beautiful young women! He was really enjoying this!

Since we had been enjoying great Ethiopian buna (coffee) all week, we all wanted to purchase some coffee to take home with us. First stop on our outing today was the coffee market...a small storefront, absolutely packed full of people all waiting in line to do the same thing...buy multiple bags of coffee. It was a good thing Mesfin was with us too, because, despite there being quite an international clientele in the place this morning, it was obvious that the three or four salespeople didn’t speak much English. So, it was simply a matter of holding up fingers to indicate how many bags you wanted, and saying either ‘thirty-four’ or ‘sixty-eight’ to indicate whether you wanted a small or a large bag. Just outside on the street, a vendor was also selling the traditional coffee pots that are used in the coffee ceremony. A few of our group specifically wanted to take back one of these, so Mesfin did the bartering on their behalf and got them some pretty good deals! Once we all had coffee and pots, we made our way to the van past a few people begging, some people trying to sell simple things like tooth straws and CDs, books and gum. We had, by this time, learned to make as little eye contact as possible to keep from giving someone ANY idea that we wanted to buy something!

Our next visit was back at a restaurant called Fin-Fin. It was a part of a large old hotel and spa built around some hot springs. We didn’t see the springs, but we did have a great last traditional Ethiopian fare buffet. SInce the Ethiopians live by another calendar, and they were already into Lent, all of the buffet was ‘fasting-friendly,’ meaning no meat or dairy. It was still very good, spicy, and robust!

Next, we visited the Sheraton Hotel one last time. We took part in a coffee ceremony, where a beautiful lady ritually made the coffee on an open fire while burning incense. The coffee, as always, was amazing. We spent the afternoon browsing the small shops there for some last-minute gifts, and also to use up our bir. We took photos. We had a beer or two in the bar. We actually met a gentleman who used to be one of the students at the International School when Des worked there, and this guy was an engineer, and a graduate of Virginia Tech!! Des even bragged when introducing him that he was an MVP on Tech’s winning soccer team when he was in school there. We had a nice conversation with this gentleman, and one of our team, also a Tech graduate, struck up a great new friendship with the guy! I am pretty sure I have used the phrase “it’s a small world” WAY too much in the past few days! At an appointed time, we all congregated and went out back onto a stretch of lawn and sat down to again reflect on our week. Presentations were made by the group of gifts to Des and Mesfin in gratitude for all they had done to make our week so fulfilling. Anne and Jean, two of our faculty and staff leaders, took this opportunity to do some fun presentations of special little gifts to some of our group in appreciation of each one sharing his or her own gifts through the week. Our sharing of feelings and experiences was beautiful, and even emotional, especially for me. It was actually hard for me to talk when it came my turn, but I managed to choke through my thanks to everyone for such passion, compassion, charity, sharing, and friendship. They truly are a special group. 

We then took a few final group shots with Mesfin and Des showing off their new gifts. After our time at the Sheraton, we returned to the hotel to gather our belongings, all our bags, our souvenirs, etc. and we set out for a restaurant that Mesfin suggested for dinner. It was way up in the hills, and it was an open pavilion overlooking some really beautiful views of the sunset over the city. There was a group of germans in the same pavilion with us having a wine-tasting kind of event. We all shared the space along the open windows, however, when the sun began to go down, cameras poised and snapping. It was  a warm and beautiful evening. Dinner was quiet, pensive.

From the restaurant, we went to the airport to begin our passage through customs, baggage, check, etc. Mesfin once again somehow expedited that process, and we managed to get through all the checkpoints in what I supposed to be record time! We said our somber goodbyes to Mesfin once we were through security, and sadly he was gone. We picked up some bottles of water, passed through a final security to get to our gate area, and settled to seats and the floor to wait. Several of us weren’t really feeling very well, including me. I was having an allergy attack, primarily because every place we went, people were smoking, and the smoke finally took its toll on me. Some of us tried finally to get online using the airport’s wireless connection, and, although it was very slow, it was accessible. I managed to open Facebook, and send one message through, saying that I was at the airport waiting for our plane. After that, everything froze up again. That was ok, though, because they also called us to board the plane. As anxious as I then was to get  home to my family, the thought of spending even MORE time in flight on the way home than we did on the way out there was fairly daunting. It was supposed to be about  a 17-hour flight with one re-fueling stop in Rome. UGH!

I had some reflection and cogitation during this long flight back...about the vastness, the majesty, the mystery of this land; about the people I had seen and met, their bravery and resilience, their bright smiles and their acceptance of us. I thought about the children....those at the school who seemingly have their whole lives ahead of them, and those at the orphanage, whose lives may not be so easy, may not be as long. I thought a great deal about how I was going to share all I’d seen, smelled, heard, touched, and experienced when I got back home. Words, video, even pictures cannot possibly convey the feeling of the Ethiopia we’d just been a part of. I worried that I won’t be able to make people understand about how we came to look beyond the abject poverty, beyond the stench, beyond the squalor, to feel the warmth and the wonder that is Ethiopia. I hope this blog somehow begins to tell that story. I hope that my art, my music, and my presentations in my community can somehow continue the story.

Day 7: Friday in Addis Ababa

So, it was decided that we were heading out Friday morning after breakfast to a nearby orphanage. We hadn’t had time to do any research, so none of us knew what to expect. The van picked us up early, and we headed out. Interestingly, the night before, everyone gathered many of their clothes together, along with pens and pencils, and a few other odds and ends, and pooled them to be taken to the orphanage in the morning. This was the idea of our young people, who, even before meeting the wonderful people at the orphanage, were already in ‘HELP’ mode!

The ride to the orphanage was short but full of nervous anticipation. It was palpable in the van. I think it was all completely quelled when we pulled into the Kidane Meheret Children’s Home. Near the entrance was a beautiful new church, and beyond the fence, several buildings, all in pretty good shape, with a central playground area, complete with jungle gym, basketball goals, an open area for playing field sports. Below us was a fenced-in area with some outbuildings where a few goats lived very comfortably. There were some nice ladies busy hanging ou laundry on some clotheslines just above the ‘barnyard’, and beyond this area few buildings that we assumed were where the children were. We were met by a very nice nun. She was a slightly stout little lady, short in stature, and constantly smiling. I kept listening to her accent, trying to pick up a country of origin, but I finally had to ask where she was from. She was from Malta, as was the one other nun who worked there at the orphanage. They are Franciscan sisters. Their care and compassion for the children were continually evident throughout our visit as I watched them interact with the children, and watched the children’s displays of affection for them, and for all the workers there.

We were led into a small classroom full of preschool-aged children. They had a wonderful teacher, and young woman from Austria, and she was allowing us to come in and completely disrupt her class. Before chaos ensued, however, she had the children sing us two greeting songs in English! After that, it was complete  chaos as most of us moved into the classroom and began conversations with the children, taking pictures, handing over our cameras to the children to take pictures, etc. Everywhere you looked, children were climbing around on one or more of our folks, and it was wonderful! One little boy with Downs syndrome, whose name was Jonas (pronounced Yo-nus) sat on my lap for some time, playing with my beard. He had a fascination with my goatee, and he just kept talking to me while kind of flipping it with his hands. As we talked and played with the children, I remember looking around the room and welling up with tears, watching these students immerse themselves into entertaining these children any way they could. Some of these children, we were told, are HIV positive, some are permanent residents, and some come for the day, so that their mothers can go to work to try to make a living. This scene went on for some time, and I hated to see it end, but eventually, we seemed to all spill out onto the courtyard and into the playground. The children played and giggled, and had one or the other of us lifting them onto the jungle gym’s various swings and ropes. Some of the children played soccer with some of our folks. They played with a rag ball at times, made from something stuffed inside an old sock.


Some older children began to also appear in the yard. We were introduced to two young men, about 12 or 13, whose stories struck a place deep in my heart. Both had been rescued from the streets only about two months earlier, where they had been smoking hash, sniffing glue, begging, prostituting themselves. And here they were, two of the nicest young men once could hope to meet! In their eyes, however, one can clearly see the pain of their pasts. Beyond their thoughtful and friendly smiles were hidden the sad, desperate faces they once wore. The good sister told me that she was still a little worried that they may leave again and return to that life, and that she prayed often every day that they would stay in her care and continue in school. My prayers have been added to hers.

We also met a set of three sisters, the oldest being about 12, and the youngest about 3. It was so touching to see how the older sisters passed back and forth the responsibility for watching over the little one. One or the other was constantly holding her or walking her around the yard. There was also another young girl of about 10 or 11 who had a baby sister. We were told both of them were born HIV positive. For now, at least, they were both very healthy.

The remainder of our time at the orphanage, we were all split up and exploring on our own, or with the help of one or the other orphanage personnel. There was a physical therapy room in one of the buildings where a therapist visits several times a week to treat both the residents and cared-for children, and some community children who are allowed to come there just for therapy. Our physical therapy doctorate students were obviously very excited by this, and the thought of perhaps coming back sometime to help out in such a place!

I happened into one of the rooms to find one of our students, a nursing student, and herself a mother of two, being read to by one of the young girls, while another little girl looked on and stroked her hair. It was a quiet, thoughtful, beautiful moment.

Looking back, it seemed that we were at the orphanage all day! We crammed so much into a few morning hours, but it was all so meaningful and rewarding that it felt like an eternity. At the same time, when it was time to leave, we were all very sad. I am a pretty emotional person, as any of my friends can tell you, and it took a lot for me not to just sob as we walked back to the van. Looking over my shoulder at these beautiful children, thinking about their individual stories, where they came from, where they may end up....it was almost too painful. Yet, as I looked skyward to keep tears from rolling down my face, I was reminded that there is this wonderful God in control, the same God who brought the good Franciscan sisters to this place to see that these children are cared for; the same God who led someone to rescue those two boys from the savage streets; the same God who helped children overcome terrible disease to live healthily among all the others. I quietly prayed a prayer of thanks, and then I busied myself thinking how I could help them, even after returning to the states.

We all piled rather quietly into the van, everyone seemingly deep in thought. We were taken to have a quick lunch, which, for the life of me, I can’t even remember. That period is all a blur.

After lunch, however, we were taken to the Myungsung Christian Medical Center, a Korean Presbyterian hospital. It is a private hospital, but they do a great deal of public medicine there. We were greeted by Dr. Scheul, a Norwegian trauma surgeon, who escorted us to a comfortable board room where he shared with us a presentation of what his practice at the center had become; He treats lots of trauma cases resulting from (big surprise!) traffic accidents....mostly pedestrians who have been hit by vehicles, as well as building accidents resulting from (again...big surprise!) people falling from the spindly scaffolding they use to scale the sides of construction sites. He is also a trained vascular and thoracic surgeon so he covers a great deal of those types of surgery as well. He also introduced us to Dr. Ericksen, a plastic surgeon, who specializes in burns, primarily from natives cooking over open flames, and also cleft lip and palate reconstructive surgeries. Dr. Ericksen also presented some slides of some of his most interesting cases. Both these Norwegians have been practicing in Addis now for about 18 years. They are dedicated and compassionate men.

We were then given a brief tour of the hospital, including their CT scanner, the emergency department, the large waiting area and admissions, among others. They also showed us their new ambulance, something of a novelty still in Addis. They are working on getting an EMS team educated currently  to man the ambulance and provide for emergency transport to the hospital.
Before leaving, we gathered outside with the doctors and presented them with a few Shenandoah  University-related gifts, and had a group shot taken with them. I was very impressed by the doctors...in fact, briefly considered ways I could don my old surgical technologists hat and go back and help in some way.

Well, our busy Friday ended with us going out to dinner at an incredible (to me) place. It was the Makush Restaurant and Gallery of Art, featuring local Ethiopian artists’ work, all for sale! Not only was the food fantastic, but the art work was exquisite! I wanted to buy quite a few, but was constantly reminded how I would never be able to safely carry anything like that back on the plane!  My only recourse was to take photos of some of my favorites to share with folks back home.

Back at the hotel, it was time to pack up to be ready for Saturday, and our trip home. Oh, Lord......please help me get all this stuff in my luggage and still not be over the weight limit!

Day 6 in Addis Ababa

We arose on Thursday morning again before 6. I’m sure I heard the first priest that morning chanting....then the next, then the next......can you tell it began to get old? Des was bathed and off to read his magazine and have breakfast. I got up and worked through my morning routine, and then sat down with my computer to try to record notes for the blogs. My memory these days is not so good, so I make notes while I can!

I finished up some notes and decided it was time to join the others on the terrace for breakfast. I went  up and sat with a few of our group and ordered my usual breakfast: mixed papaya and orange juice, scrambled eggs, toast with butter and apricot jam, and of course, buna with milk! Good stuff!

After breakfast, I had a little time to go back to my room and work before gathering with the others for the day’s outing. This was to be our day to visit the embassies.  Our van driver dropped us off first at the US Embassy, where Jason Martin, the Cultural Attache met us outside the main entrance. We were escorted into security, where, sadly, the guards there demanded our cameras, bags, etc. We were not to be allowed to take any cameras into the embassy. This was even more disappointing later when we were shown some incredible art work inside. Anyway, they took our cameras, bags, etc. and gave  us a numbered tag and a temporary visitor’s ID. We progressed on into the next courtyard and waited for Jason, our escort. He then took us into the main building, and into a small board room, where chairs had been set up, presumably for us. There were also bottles of water for us, which we gladly took. In the front of the room was a table where, when they arrived, the Deputy Chief of Mission, Dr. Tulinabo Mushingi and the Regional Environment Office, Kirsten Bauman, joined Jason as a sort of panel. We then began a very interesting dialog, first with our explanation of our group and how we came to be in Addis Ababa, and then explanations by each of our hosts as to their jobs and duties, where the country of Ethiopia is currently, and where it is headed. We learned more about the economy, industry partnerships with other countries, and environmental and health issues facing the country. Jason also took pride in showing off the beautiful artwork that was displayed around the room. He and his department had recently hosted an art competition for local Ethiopian artists to portray one of the “four freedoms,’ marking the 70th anniversary of U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s famous “Four Freedoms” speech on January 6, 1941, to the U.S. Congress, and of course inspired by Norman Rockwell’s FOUR FREEDOMS series, originally created for the Saturday Evening Post in 1943. I was quite taken by the art work. It was continued in another room, the reference library and computer lab, so we were able to view all the paintings. (Take a look at the following site to see the images of the paintings! http://ethiopia.usembassy.gov/galleries.html

An interesting turn in the morning was when Kirsten’s admin assistant popped in to introduce herself and tell us that she had met one of Shenandoah’s GCP groups a few years back in Bolivia, one of her previous posts, and that when she and her colleagues had been back in Washington, DC, they managed a trip out to the Shenandoah campus, and were completely taken with the university and its surroundings.

We were escorted back to security to retrieve our respective bags and cameras, and said our goodbyes and made our way back to the van.

We had the van driver take us to a little out-of-the-way cafe/sandwich shop where Des and friends used to hang out for lunch. We all found tables outside and ordered food, which turned out to be very good! While we were there, I noticed several of the teachers from the nearby Sandford International School stopping by for lunch as well. While we waited for food, we made plans for the mid-afternoon. We had some time to fill before our visit to the British Embassy. Des had already made plans to visit his old friends and have lunch with some of the folks from the school. He had the van driver go ahead and drop him off, and then return to pick the rest of us up. Half of our group decided to go to the zoo to see the ‘Lions of Judah’, and they planned to visit the university which was just across the road from the zoo. The other half decided to go visit the Sheraton Hotel. I decided to go to the Sheraton for two reasons: my new friend, the art teacher at the Sandford School, had a painting hanging there that I wanted to see, and my feet were still suffering, and I knew that the Sheraton visit would allow me to sit for a while and rest my feet. It was all timed very well....the van driver dropped off the zoo group first, then the rest of us at the Sheraton. At a previously decided time, he returned in the same order...first to pick up the folks at the university, and then to pick us up at the Sheraton. Everyone, luckily, was where they needed to be, and we were on time for our afternoon visit to the British Embassy.


At the British Embassy, we were greeted by our friend, Mesfin, of course, since he works there. He had everything ready for us when we arrived. We had to leave our cameras, etc. with Security at the gate this time. They gave each of us a numbered badge in return. Mesfin met us and led us into the main building. We went upstairs to a nicely appointed board room, where they had set out tea, coffee, and a nice assortment of cakes and cookies for us! As we got our refreshments and made our way to our seats, we were joined by the Howard Taylor, head of the British Aid program in Ethiopia. Taylor explained that he had been there in Addis for about two years. He gave us time, as in our earlier embassy visit, to tell him about our group, and why we were there in Addis. He then told us of the British Embassy’s mission and goals in Ethiopia, and again about the economy, and about the partnerships of many other countries with Ethiopia in major efforts to help boost her economy and provide jobs for her citizens. It was a very warm and relaxed dialog, and I, for one, learned so much!


After our time at the embassy, we went back to the hotel to freshen up a bit, and then out to Castelli’s, a wonderful Italian restaurant, for dinner. We had reservations, which Mesfin had seen to, and he met us there, of course. We had great Italian fare, and some great conversation about our day. We had been seated at a large grouping of tables in a small banquet room, opposite another group of about 10 or so people. Des noticed one older woman with the group that he remembered having met years ago. She had been a friend of one of his colleagues at the Sandford School. Mesfin also recognized her. Jean, who was one of our group, suddenly said, “I know that woman! She was on Oprah just this afternoon!” I asked her what the show had been about, and she related the story of this woman, a well-known doctor, who had started a special clinic in Ethiopia for treating a specific condition, fistulae, in young women. I remembered seeing this some time ago! Her name is Dr. Catherine Hamlin, and she and her husband, Reginald, are the founders of the Hamlin Fistula Hospitals. Mesfin and Des got the opportunity to reacquaint themselves with Dr. Hamlin before she left the restaurant, and she was genuinely happy to see them! If you want to know more about Dr. Hamlin, see the following website:
http://www.fistulafoundation.org/wherewehelp/ethiopia/hospital.html

After dinner, we went back to the hotel. On the way, one of the young men in our group, Kyle, mentioned that he wanted to visit an orphanage while we were there. Since we had time on Friday morning that had not been planned as yet, he was planning to ask Mesfin for help in identifying an orphanage he could visit. Of course, he invited anyone who wanted to accompany him, and all of us decided we wanted to go too. So, Kyle made all the arrangements with Mesfin himself. I was very proud of him, and of everyone for choosing to go along!

Day 5 in Ethiopia: A Road Trip to the Countryside

Again, despite being utterly exhausted the night before, I didn’t sleep well the night before our Nile River Gorge excursion. I was up every hour or so for a bit, having breathing issues again. Nothing terrible, just annoying feeling that I could not get my breath. I didn’t go up to eat breakfast, but instead, decided to just have one of my Cliff bars in my room. It was a beautiful sunny morning, with just a slight mist over the city. Mesfin had arranged for a larger, more comfortable bus and a new driver to take us on our day-long trip into the countryside. I had been looking forward to this for days. I longed to get out of the city for a bit to see what was beyond the rim of the extinct volcano that was Addis Ababa. We all prepared for the day, taking water, boxed lunches prepared by the hotel, extra snacks, sunscreen, hats, insect repellent, etc.

We began to see some incredible scenery as we topped the caldera and started down the other side. The countryside was beautiful, not unlike the Shenandoah Valley, except the the fields were far more expansive, and the mountains were much farther away. We had heard about the forests surrounding the area, and how they were completely deforested at one time by the natives for firewood, etc., and how most of the new plantings are eucalyptus trees, which are much more sustainable, and grow very quickly. All along our way this day, we say many people, some who appeared to be very old women, carrying large bales of eucalyptus branches and boughs on their backs, presumably to go back home to burn for heat and cooking.

We drove for several hours, through expansive views of farms, small compounds of multiple huts, families and even small children working in the fields, tending cattle, sheep, donkeys laden with water jugs and other loads. We passed communal or community wells, surrounded by people, all waiting their turn to fill large jugs to carry back to their huts or homes. We saw many people winnowing their massive piles of grain at the edges of fields. We drove through small towns or villages comprised of shacks and storefronts, and an occasional ‘resort’ hotel or guest house. In some places, there were large developing communities of what looked like condos or apartment houses amidst the older, smaller tin shacks and tukuls (traditional thatched-roof huts). Also along the way, we saw a large concrete factory, a huge Chinese-Ethiopian leather export factory, an asphalt factory, and a Saudi-Ethiopian project that was listed as “Ethiopia’s First Rice Fields.” Many of these industries represent involvement of other countries’ governments using farmlands and resources in Africa to their advantage. Ethiopians, it is supposed, are hoping to gain development and modernization of their ailing agricultural areas.

Driving along, we also changed elevations, often changing from long flat roads through small towns to steep, winding mountain passes with breathtaking scenery. Even in the higher elevations, people could be seen working diligently, gathering firewood, herding animals, etc. The road was paved, but at times we would find people in the middle of the road, manually fixing large axle-swallowing holes in the pavement. Our bus was dodging other buses, cars, trucks, small three-wheeled taxis, horses, cattle, goats, sheep, donkeys, and PEOPLE! The driver would blow the horn to essentially signal everyone to get out of his way. Sometimes, they would just barely make it!

The bus driver asked if we would like to stop at an overlook at one point. Of course, he’d been there before, and recognized that this was a great place to take pictures...a beautiful vista, a raised platform, nice easy pull-off. I swear, before the last person stepped off the bus, we were surrounded by children, selling baskets, soapstone and marble crosses, candlesticks, necklaces, all made by them or someone in their families. They were very persistent, and of course, we couldn’t resist! It’s hard to ignore such beautiful children!  Nearly everyone bought something they probably didn’t need or want, all just to help these kids. We reminded ourselves also that we were contributing to their economy, and helping them as individuals and as families.

Next stop was the monastery of Debre Libanos. The monastery sits on a ledge between a cliff and one of the tributaries of the Blue Nile. The original structure was built in the thirteenth century, but the church building that exists today was built in the early 1960s.
In the cliff on the side of the mountain above the church is a cave where Saint Tekle Hamanot is said to have lived and prayed. In the cave is a spring which produces water, thought to have holy properties, which is gathered in barrels for church rituals. People also gather there to bathe in the waters thought to have healing powers. Driving in toward the compound, we passed a cemetery full of elaborate stones, tombs and mausoleums, most of which were covered by iron cages. We were later told that the cages protected the graves from both robbers and baboons. Past this cemetery was a large wall with gates, and beyond the gates, the large church, surrounded by lush plantings of palms, succulents, and flowering plants.


The driver parked the bus and we went to the gate, paid our fees, were greeted by a small-framed Ethiopian gentleman who spoke fluent English, who would be our guide. This gentle man told us later that he had been an English teacher in Addis years before.  We were then led to the church, where we took off our shoes, and put them just inside the door as we entered. This church had the most incredible modern stained glass windows, most of which were said to be the work of a famous Belgian stained glass artist. Our guide explained all about the three areas of the church, the separation of the genders, discussed with us each and every stained glass window, and showed us where Selassie and his wife would sit for services.


After the church tour, we put on our shoes and went to the adjacent museum, where the guide led us around and showed us much the same kinds of things we had seen at the Trinity Cathedral museum...crosses, manuscripts, translations of the Bible, photos and portraits of Selassie and family. All this was evidence of how the emperors in Ethiopia kept the church on their sides. Our guide, a happy little gentleman, is now studying to be a monk or priest. At one point...gave us a sermonette about faith in God, and the good that can surround you if you believe. We were all enthralled.

After our museum tour, our guide offered to have someone take us on a tour of the cave up on the mountainside. One of the young ladies wasn’t feeling well, and I offered to stay with her while the others went to the cave. The bus driver let us into the bus, and while we waited there, we began to hear some loud noise coming from the direction of the road into the area. We watched as a large funeral procession moved toward us. There was a man in front who carried a portrait, presumably of the deceased. He was followed by a wreath-and flower-covered hearse. Beyond the hearse, a hundred or so mourners, priests, etc., carrying parasols, incense, banners and the like. The procession moved through the gates, and up to the steps of the church, and a cacophony of wailing arose, lasted only a few minutes, and subsided again. The procession then moved back out of the compound gates, and back up the road where they cam in. We watched, but out of respect, did not take photos or video. I wish everyone could have seen this, though...it was very interesting!

It wasn’t long until the others, down from the cave, joined us again, and we were loaded up and moving to our next stop, the so-called Portuguese Bridge. Some say the bridge was built in the 16th century by the Portuguese, of limestone and ostrich eggs, others say it was built by Ras Darge, Menelik’s uncle, in the 19th century. It’s a beautiful spot, nonetheless, and very near where, during the rainy season, the 600m waterfall can be found. When we arrived we were immediately set upon by a couple of young men who offered to unofficially be our guides down to the bridge. They were harmless enough, very mannerly, and very knowledgeable about the area. While some of the folks followed one young man across the bridge, I was taken by the other, Solomon, down under the bridge to the flat rocks and near some pools of water, obviously left there by recent rains, or even last rainy season’s downpours. He knew my purpose there was to take pictures, so he was showing me the best spots for that! This whole area, he told me, would, in the rainy season, be covered in water, and that water flowed over the falls, just beyond where we were standing.

As Solomon and I talked, he pulled some of the rose quartz crosses from his pocket and  asked if I were interesting in buying one. I tried to change the subject, asking him if he had any relatives in the US. Surprisingly, he told me that he DID, in fact, have family in Washington, DC, and in California. He was hoping to come to America for his own secondary education. We talked for a bit about him, his family, how he treks across the canyon to a spot directly opposite us to dig for quartz and marble to make the crosses he sells to tourists like me. He also told us about a cave opposite where the baboons live...a small colony or family of about thirteen, who, during the day, are playing and hunting for food in the fields just above us at the tops of the cliffs. Eventually, the conversation came back around to the rose quartz cross, and, just like before, I am a sucker for this kind of free enterprise, and I really wanted to help this young man out, so I bought one. It will make a great memory to hang on the Christmas tree.

While we were talking, the others began laughing and making lots of noise, and so we walked closer to investigate. Turns out that Des had decided to jump into one of the deeper pools of water, soon to be followed by a few of the others! One of our young guides then walked over to the cliffside above that pool, emptied his pockets, took off his shoes and socks, and jumped the thirty feet or so into the pool below!

After their brief swim in the obviously VERY cold water, we all gathered once again, and scaled the jagged rocks back up the hill to the pathway out. This was one of the times that the exertion really got me short of breath again, but I stopped every once in a while and just breathed, and I finally finished the walk.

We boarded the bus again, and headed off to the next stop, the Abay (Blue Nile) Bridge. On the way once again through the winding, often steep and precarious road, the bus driver stopped again at a very scenic area so that we could get out and take some pictures. It was very remote, without a home or farm in sight, but again, almost before the bus door opened, kids appeared seemingly from thin air, baskets and handcrafts in hand, and crowded round us as we tried to take our pictures. It was  uncanny how they showed up in these desolate areas!

When we finally reached the bridge over the Blue Nile, we stopped to take some more pictures. This bridge was completed in 2009, built by the Japanese, and is a very important link in the trade route for Ethiopia. The scenery there was awe-inspiring. While looking through my viewfinder at one of the angles, I had to lower my camera and just stand there and look around me for a few minutes. The river below, the beautifully striated mountains around us, the sun lowering in the western sky....I felt the presence of God, and I marveled at this world we are given. And I suddenly also felt very small and insignificant...and just as quickly, felt very important! How fortunate I am to be able to see this, I thought!

All too soon, we were back on the bus, headed back up the steep grades, and on our way back to the city. It had been an amazing day in the countryside. I reflected on the day’s sights and activities, and I silently prayed a prayer of thanks for this opportunity I had been given, and for everything I have and often take for granted. At one point on the way back, we asked the bus driver to stop for just a moment so that we could get some photographs across one of the endless fields, where the sun’s rays reached earthward through the clouds, and slathered the land below with the last light of the day. It was magnificent!

We stopped by the hotel to splash some water on ourselves, and some even confessed to using spray deodorant  and Fabreeze to freshen up a bit, and we were back in our little transport van and off to meet Mesfin for dinner at a wonderful Lebanese-Armenian restaurant called Aladdin. Looking back, I think this may have been my favorite of all the places we ate. It was a beautifully-appointed place, with simple classic furnishings, and they served us the best food! We had a huge array of appetizers served family-style, like warm pita bread with hummus and eggplant dips, small oblong meatballs, deep-fried chick pea patties, tasty little crisp fried meat and cheese pies, and then the main courses of grilled chicken and grilled beef with  rice and fries. Outstanding meal!

We then returned to the hotel, where I tried once again for about two hours to update the blogs, but the internet service was still not cooperating. I finally conceded it was time for a  hot bath and bed.

Day 4: Tuesday in Addis Ababa

Woke this morning at 4:16 before my alarm went off again. I am just not sleeping well. I am pretty sure it’s the altitude....I often wake up feeling like I need to breathe more deeply...like I can’t get enough air in my lungs. I think sometimes too, that it’s a mind thing...once I start, it’s hard to stop deep breathing.

I got up for an early shower and headed up to breakfast and some more great coffee. I managed to get some writing in before we met this morning. We had to get together early this day to walk to the school where Des once worked as a teacher and headmaster. It was a brisk walk again, mostly uphill, so I felt like I was breathing heavy the whole way....but I did well! I was proud of myself! The walk was fun too, because we were walking through throngs of children, all smartly dressed in their respective school uniforms and heading off the school. We talked to some who passed, and some who attempted to walk alongside us for a way. There were several schools on our way, but we were headed to the Sandford International School.

When we arrived at the gate, we were greeted, of course, by guards, and they seemed very concerned that we were trying to get in. They finally calmed when they found out that we were supposed to be there for a visit, and some of the teachers and the current headmaster came out to greet us. It was like old home week for Des, since many of the people with whom he worked 22 years ago were still there. Several of the teachers talked to us about our interests, and then broke us into manageable groups to tour the various classes and spots we wanted to see. The group I was with attended an IB1 Math class, where, unfortunately, the teacher was absent. The students in that class, however, were working diligently in his absence, but allowed us to interrupt them for a bit of conversation about their school lives. We found out that several of them have relatives in the US, and one young man was actually born in Alexandria, VA, and goes back there each summer!

We then stopped by the English and Drama teacher’s room, but found the teacher, Stephanie Nelmes outside on the steps working, so we had a question and answer session with her for a while. She was born to missionary parents in Addis, but had done some of her growing up in New Mexico. She and her sister both lived in Addis, and before leaving again for the states, her sister worked as a nurse for one of the surgeons at the Korean Hospital, which we would visit later in the week. This young woman was very knowledgeable about teaching in the international arena, and she shared some very valuable information with some of our young people.

Next stop was a music class, where we were invited by the teacher, Mr. Underwood, to sing along with the kids as they learned some very familiar tunes like “Monster Mash,” Alan Sherman’s classic “Hello, Muddah, Hello, Faddah,” and the ever-popular “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing.” The kids were great, and we had such a good time with them!

We also visited the art class, and the teacher, Mr. Wondowossen Beyene, showed us many works that both he and his students had created. He was wonderful to talk with, and his artwork was amazing! He showed us pictures of a recent art show he had shared with a  photographer friend, and one painting that was hanging in the Sheraton in Addis. This is a very talented man! We exchanged email and website information, so I hope to keep in touch with him.

We also sat in on the Information Technology classroom, where the teacher, Mr. Kumar, was teaching the kids how to create their own web pages. They were a very attentive and intelligent class, and it was great to see what kinds of technologies they were using. Internet access, however, seems to always be a problem, and sadly, the children in the schools have to deal with it too.

We had some time to spend with Tim, one of the education teachers, again about international teaching, and how to get involved. I could see the eyes of some of our young people light up thinking about the possibilities as he spoke. He was then called away, so we broke up and did some exploring on our own.

I walked around the grounds a bit and took some photos and video of the children, the buildings, some wildlife, etc. It was a great time to just breathe and reflect on all I’d learned about the school during the morning. As I walked, the computer teacher came out to talk again, and we chatted about his career, his time at the school, and then he led me around the corner to a small monument that the school had built in memory of his son. Seems that this gentleman and his family were visiting Dubai a couple of years ago, and they were involved in a tragic accident in which his 15 year-old son was thrown from the vehicle and killed. He had been a well-loved student at the school himself, and so this little memorial in the garden was erected in his name. It was a very sad story, but Mr. Kumar seems to be dealing with it very well.

I had some time too, to take some photos of some of these beautiful children,  including our friend, Mesfin’s daughter, Naomi, who is a student at the school as well. It was just a wonderful morning getting to know what the school was like both in Des’ time there, and in the current day. What a beautiful and nurturing place for a very lucky bunch of students!

We met our driver back at the hotel for a trip to a little restaurant that had been suggested to us, the Lime Tree, out on Bole (near the airport) Road. We had a great time, ate some very good food, but tried again, unsuccessfully to access the internet on our laptops. It was just not meant to be, I suppose!

After lunch, we stopped by the hotel for a few minutes while our driver patiently waited for us,  to drop off laptops, cameras, etc. and headed back to the Mecato for a last visit. Most of us had a better idea this time of what we wanted, where to look for it, and how to barter with some finesse! We were immediately recognized from the day before, and descended upon by sales people from everywhere. It was almost funny! Even the beggars on the street who followed us were the same ones from the day before! We went into the market building, made our decisions, purchased our goods, and gathered up to leave in a relatively short time. As we left, however, there began to be an almost overwhelming swarm of people around us. I noticed the girls in our group in front of me had banded together in twos and threes with arms locked together. There were young men around them, trying to talk to them, get between the groups, etc. When I saw one young man begin to put his arm around one of the girls, I ran ahead and pushed his hand away, and pushed him away. He and his friends backed off, and by this time, we were almost at our van, where we jumped in, still surrounded by people, and shut the doors and windows, and our driver pulled off. We were glad to be on the road again.

We went back to our hotel, and once again, had some down time to rest before going out to dinner. Some of us purchased a few odds and ends from one of the showcases at the hotel. I had some time to put my feet up and rest, so I took advantage of that!

Dinner that night was great! We met our driver at 7:30, and he took us to one of Des’ old haunts, an Armenian restaurant. We had some great things to eat, including Kabobs, wrapped in flatbread! This was a quaint little place, quiet until, of course, we arrived, but had some great artwork painted on the walls. I enjoyed it a great deal!

Back to the hotel we went that night for an early bedtime. We had a long day planned the next day, and we were going to need our rest!

Day 3: Monday in Addis Ababa

(I want to sincerely apologize to everyone who was trying to follow our blog last week! Our internet access in Addis Ababa was, sadly, nearly non-existent. Even the places that called themselves ‘internet cafes’ were no help at all. We struggled trying to connect to wireless access points all week, but finally gave up. I hope that you enjoy the remainder of the posts, even though we have already returned home safely! Thanks for reading!)

I woke up early today, about 4:30. I’m sure it was the sound of dogs barking, prayer chanting from the mosques, and lots of traffic on the wet road outside our window. Des popped up, jumped into clothes, grabbed his Time magazine, and headed for the terrace for his buna (coffee) and reading time. I picked out some clothes to wear, took my shower/bath, shaved, brushed my teeth, and headed up to the terrace to have breakfast with the others.



We arranged to meet everyone back in the lobby at 10 again. This time we set out walking toward the churches up on the hillsides that we had seen over and over from our walks and rides by that area. It was a fairly taxing walk, especially for me, the old guy....mostly uphill....and in this altitude, it can really put a load on one’s lungs.

We finally reached the Holy Trinity Cathedral, and were greeted by a couple of suited men, none of whom spoke English. Through a few words and some sign language, they managed to shuffle us toward the gatekeeper’s shelter, where we paid a nominal amount to enter. We were given some brochures that were written in English, and the one gentleman led us to the church. Again, through some Amharic words, and mime, our friend indicated we needed to remove our shoes just inside the door. As we removed our shoes, he disappeared down one of the aisles and promptly returned with the loveliest woman in native dress, with her beautiful scarf draped over her head and around her shoulders. She very humbly greeted us in very clear English, and said that she would be our guide. She looked to be in her 60s, a lighter-skinned Ethiopian woman, and she just exuded a warmth and friendliness that I know put us all at ease. She explained the separation of men and women in their church; she told us about how each church has three distinct areas, and in the inner area of each is a replica of the ark of the covenant; she walked us through the larch sanctuary and explained each of the beautiful stained glass windows; we learned about ‘prayer sticks,’ on which men lean while standing and praying for hours, and which are also used for prayer ‘dancing’; and she led us to the throne-like seats on either side of the front where Haile Selassie and his empress  would sit during services there. Also in a very prominent place in the front of the sanctuary were the tombs of both Selassie and his wife.

We then put on our shoes and we were led out and across the courtyard to the Selassie Museum, where another gentleman led us around a large room full of artifacts, handwritten parchment manuscripts, gold and silver processional crosses, chalices, incense burners, crowns, and robes, all significant to the church, and many of which were donated by Selassie himself. The one thing that stood out here for me was a depiction of the Last Supper, completely rendered in mother of pearl. Sadly, we were not allowed to photograph anywhere inside this museum.

Next, our guide led us out of this church compound, through a military zone, up a very steep hill to a second church called Menilek II, named after an earlier emperor. After removing our shoes, we were actually led directly through a small service, and down a steep, mysterious stairwell to a dark musty room below the sanctuary. This room was almost completely filled with four tombs. On one side of the room were the tombs of Menilek II, his wife, and one of his daughters. On the other side of the room was a lone tomb over which hung a post-mortem photo of Selassie’s daughter. We were told that very few people get to see this room. We donated some money in a small box and signed our names in a large and very old-looking ‘guest’ book, and went back upstairs. As we put on our shoes to leave, I took time to watch people as they entered the church, often first falling on their faces, then kissing the door jambs. It is humbling to see such faith displayed so emphatically.

As we left Menilek II and headed back down the hill, we passed two very large tortoises in the walkway. People on their way up and down the hill just simply walked around them. While walking, we were often greeted with waves and hellos by small children being led along by their mothers. The children are so naively friendly, and we were always charmed by them. A couple of us stopped to talk to one little boy, and we asked his mother if we could take his picture. We then showed both him and his mother the pictures we’d taken, and his bigger sister suddenly stepped out from behind her mother. She looked to be about 4 or 5. We asked her if she would like to have her picture taken, and took a few of her and shared them with this little family. Those  were special moments for us.We were running a bit late, so we caught a couple of taxis back to our hotel, where we had a nice lunch out on the terrace.

At about 2:15, the van came to pick us up and deliver us to the Mecato, supposedly the largest marketplace in the world. We had prepared by emptying wallets, pockets, leaving behind bags, cameras, etc., so as not to entice thieves or pick-pockets. The trip to the marketplace was mind-boggling! Cars and people and animals everywhere, and it was very hard to get through the traffic. Our driver, however, deftly passed through somehow and even found a place on the corner to park and let us out! So, here we are, a bunch of naive, mostly young, mostly white people pouring out of the van in the midst of this organized chaos, and I am sure we stuck out like 14 big sore thumbs. I have to say, however, that we felt a bit better prepared, since we had been briefed about the marketplace. We managed to get into some of the different buildings, still only a small fraction of the market, in general, and we bartered and haggled with sales people at at their booths, and we felt very proud of having walked out with what we knew to be bargains! We got lots of Ethiopian handcrafts, textiles, musical instruments, and such to take home for family and friends, and as souvenirs for ourselves. We also made mental notes about what we may want to return to buy, perhaps with even more buying savvy, later in the week. It was very very interesting, and even FUN! We piled back into the van, all with bags of treasures in hand, and all bragging about what great deals we got!

We returned to the hotel late in the afternoon, where, once again, I tried for nearly two hours, unsuccessfully to get on the internet and upload the blogs. I was not happy, to say the least, but it was certainly out of my control....probably out of the control of even the government, who supposedly ‘controls’ it! Nevertheless, I got drowsy while sitting there, and decided that perhaps a nap was in order. I was still pretty exhausted from all the traveling, and from the walking, and I had also developed a fairly large blister under one of my toes, so I decided, like one or two others, to rest at the hotel that evening while everyone went to dinner. It was a good decision.

Day 2: Sunday in Addis Ababa

(Internet service at the hotel is pretty ‘sketchy,’ so I apologize if some of my posts are late. I have to upload everything when I can get service. Please keep watching for updates!)

I had a rough night sleeping. Too tired to sleep, maybe, but I couldn’t seem to fall asleep, then I woke up several times during the night. At about 5:30 am, though I wasn’t sleeping soundly, I was awakened by the early morning prayer chanting  from several mosques across the city below. It was kind of interesting for the first few minutes, then became fairly annoying, then downright awful! It went on forever! I realized at some point that I was not going to be able to fall asleep again, and finally just got up. My roomie, Des, too, was stirring a lot in his bed, and we just decided to go have some breakfast. After breakfast, I also began writing a bit, compiling notes to complete the blog from the previous day. I went up to the terrace, where some of our group had now begun to gather for breakfast, and had some more of that great coffee and milk.

We all went back to our rooms to get freshened up for our Sunday outings, and met back in the lobby at 10 am. I took the opportunity also to exchange some more American dollars for ‘bir’. 50 dollars would get me 833 bir. Our primary activity for this day was to walk. We set off on quite a trek, walking from the hotel down into the center of the city. As we walked, we passed big beautiful houses perched on the hills, surrounded by walls and tall ornate gates, all topped with razor wire. We passed colonies of tin shacks: masses of corrugated tin roofs that hovered over tin walls, with patches, and overlays, and often a satellite dish, and the dwellings sometimes had fabric for doors and windows. Children played outside some of the shacks; mothers washed clothes in buckets; men gathered and leaned against some as they smoked and chatted. The smell of sewage seemed to be everywhere. We passed many people walking, lots of them in what must be their ‘Sunday best’, and on their way to church. We passed vistas of tall buildings downtown with beautiful mountainscapes in the background. We passed merchants outside their storefronts of clothing, trinkets, books, souvenirs. We passed men, young and old, waiting and offering to shine our shoes. We passed gnarled and mangled bodies with vacant eyes and hands outstretched, hoping one of us will fill them even one bir. We passed, and were followed by, many children carrying gum or boxes of candy, trying to get our attention and sell us some of their merchandise as we walked. We passed by small lawn areas outside official-looking buildings, where men were lying on the grass, presumably homeless, covered by tattered cloths or blankets. We passed several men who stopped on a patch of grass, or a storm sewer, or just off the sidewalk to unashamedly relieve themselves in full view of the public. We passed one gully, where, in the stream, people seemed to be washing clothes, and even bathing.  The city was, indeed, alive and once again, a sensory barrage.

Not far from the hotel, we noticed a bunch of people up on a little hill peering up and over a wall. We could hear music coming from that direction, so we decided to clamber up and see what was happening. I noticed a sign that said something in Amharic (primary language of Ethiopia) and under it was written in English, “Children and Youth Theatre.” Beyond the wall and below, we could see a large crowd of children, many of whom seemed to be dancing, much like some of the tribal or regional dancing we had seen at the restaurant the first night we were there. They appeared to be rehearsing in the parking lot of the theater. We watched for a bit, took some pictures and video, and decided to move on.

We became kind of spread out at times, with some people walking faster than others, etc. Luckily, though, we always walked in clusters or groups. We passed through one area where on our right was one of the tin shack colonies, surrounded and almost obscured by tall walls of concrete and corrugated tin, and on our left was a beautiful city park surrounded by tall fencing and protected by guards, where the middle class leisurely walked and played with their children on colorful playground equipment. Several of us had gotten ahead of the group and were heading across the street to look at the park when we heard this scream behind us. We looked up the hill to see a quick flurry of activity around our friends at the top. and then they seemed to scurry quickly down the hill toward us. It turned out that, at one of the openings to the tin shack colony, and couple of young men had scoped out our group and one of them jumped out and tried to grab Des’ camera off his belt. Evidently, Des sprang into action and successfully foiled the attempt in a matter of seconds. It was probably a good wake-up call for us to help us to be more alert and aware. As a matter of fact, later in the day, Anne felt some pressure or a slight tug at her small travel backpack and swung around to find a couple of boys trying to unzip one of the pockets. She narrowly missed them with her arm as she whirled around, and she yelled at them, “NO!”, and they sheepishly dropped their heads and moved off.

There was a point on our walk that Des pointed out the Imperial Palace on our left. He cautioned us about taking pictures of any of this area, warning that if the security people see you, they will come take your camera. We continued walking, and the palace walls and iron fencing were on our left for the next half hour. We were making and kind of elliptical path, but the palace grounds went on forever! In some places the iron fencing and some of the gates were very beautiful and ornate, and beyond them, glimpses of immense and ornate buildings could be seen. It was very hard not to snap some pictures of it!

We would often stop to take pictures as we went, hoping to record an image we could share back home, that would somehow convey the feeling of this place. As I snapped a few shots of one of the tin shack areas with the tall downtown buildings in the distance, and the mountains as the backdrop, I stood there thinking how disappointing it was that we would never be able to capture two-dimensionally what was before us.

We made a visit to the opulence and monument to capitalism that is the Hilton Hotel. We walked past the large traffic gates at the entrance and were cheerfully greeted by the armed guards there, all dressed in blue camo uniforms. Inside the lobby doors, we were stopped by more security personnel, patted down, passed through a scanner, and our bags were run through a scanner as well. The hotel, of course was very elegantly appointed, loaded with gift shops and kiosks, and surrounded by beautiful gardens. We strolled out to the pool area, through a few of the shops, made a few small purchases, stopped in the gardens for a group picture, then moved on.

We heard what sounded like preaching coming across a loudspeaker as we approached a large church on a hill. We asked someone if it would be ok for us to go up the hill to the church. The church was tall and beautiful, with a belfry, and a large mural over the main entrance of a saint being stoned to death. This was St. Stephen Church, an orthodox Christian church. Low open building surrounded the grounds, and were full of people in various services or perhaps Sunday school classes. Many people sat idly all around the grounds and watched our group suspiciously as we passed through. One gentleman told us that they were between services and one would start again soon. We decided to move on and left the grounds through another entrance. Des stopped and dropped a donation into a box on the way out.

On our way, we passed through what was at one time called Lenin Square, where Des shared the story of the ‘revolution’ when the people of the city toppled a massive statue of Lenin in protest of the Russian occupation. Des showed us through the area where he used to live and work, where his flat was, where he used to go eat, work out, see a movie, etc. His stories are so engaging, and give us all a glimpse of life in Addis Ababa in the 80s.

We stopped at a nice little out of the way restaurant for lunch called ‘Cottage Restaurant and Pub.’ This was one of Des’ old haunts back in the day, evidently. After lunch, we started walking back, but decided to catch some ‘blue and whites,’ since we were running behind in time a bit. At the hotel, we all went off to our rooms to freshen up, and met back in the lobby shortly because Mesfin, Des’ friend, had sent the van back around to pick us up and deliver us to his home to meet his family!

As we headed out toward Mesfin’s we went through some very poor housing areas. When the van slowed to a stop, we were in front of a very tall wall, with large gates, all completely topped off with circular razor wire. Two gentlemen were opening the gates for us, and the van slowly pulled into the driveway behind the gates. (I should add here that Mesfin works for the British Embassy, and his wife, Jane owns and manages her own preschool.) Inside, a very homey ranch style home with a front porch, a lawn, some colorful landscaping...it was Mesfin’s house. In the front yard was a canopy and there were many chairs and a few small tables under it. There were already some guests there waiting. As we piled out of the van, Mesfin and his lovely wife, Jane came out and greeted us and welcomed us in toward the canopy, where they also introduced us to a very nice, and very interesting young couple from Scotland,  and their little boy, age 2. It seems they both used to live and work in Addis Ababa, and were back on both business and a holiday. Mesfin and Jane’s daughter, Naomi, a very bright and beautiful 8-year old came out to meet us as well. Naomi was so cute as she made the rounds with her little pad of paper to take our drink orders. At one point, someone made an exclamation as they pointed toward the driveway alongside the house. Lumbering down the drive toward us was one of the biggest tortoises I have ever seen! The family explained that it was their pet, and that it was there when the moved into the house over 12 years before. Being the inquisitive people we are, we all just sort of jumped up and headed toward the tortoise for a closer look. Of course, we obviously overwhelmed him because he immediately turned around to head back! He did stop long enough for a few photo ops before finally leaving us!

We spent most of the afternoon chatting with Mesfin’s family and friends, and enjoying their very gracious hospitality. It was a lovely relaxing evening getting to know new friends.

After a brief stop at our hotel, we headed out to a nice little Chinese restaurant we had passed on our walk earlier in the day. On our way over there in the van, we noticed a few raindrops on the windshield at first, and then it began to rain moderately. In the Restaurant, we could hear the rain outside as we dined family style on pork, beef, and chicken dishes and steamed and fried rice. Here we were, sitting in Ethiopia, eating delicious Chinese food, served to us by native Ethiopians. It was surreal!

Again, we met on the rooftop terrace of our hotel to talk about our day, and to make plans for the next day’s journeys. This has begun to be one of my favorite parts of the day, listening to everyone’s thoughts and perspectives about what they’ve experienced. Every day, as I often say, is truly a new adventure!