February 26, 1997
I finally met some other travelers in Addis. Now I feel like I want to stay a couple more days. Alas, the ticket is all booked. I find it rather difficult to be zen you are off your head. We’ll have to see how I feel once I reach Axum. Meeting the people today has sort of re-vitalized me. I’m more harsh with people here, it’s hard not to be…harsh.
February 25, 1997
The great market of Addis Ababa is too large. No market feeling about it. I definitely like the smaller ones better. I did get a silver (I hope) ring that has the rasta lion and Addis Ababa written in Amharic on it.
Genuine effort to see Lucy and the Grand Palace tomorrow. I’m growing rather bored of Addis to tell the truth. Now, I just want to fade away into the ranks. I did, however, meet a man from Eritrea. I have a much better feeling about up there than I have about here. What makes me think that is he mentioned “nobody bothers you on the street.” KEY. I think injerra for dinner tonight.
February 24, 1997
What the hell day is this, anyway? I got to Addis Ababa two days ago. I’ve never been so relieved to be in a city. I sat on a bus for two more days in the proverbial African bus. These buses are definitely more difficult to deal with. Not because they’re more crowded, but because they stop every 10 feet or so to load another person. To solve this problem a clear solution would be a BUS-STOP. It’s a revolutionary idea, but far too easy to initiate. I think since I have been through Africa by bus, it’s pretty safe to say…I’m going to go NUTTER if I have to deal with another over-crowded bus.
From Zim on – no Tanzania on – I’ve heard one of 3 things from everyone – literally – in the first 5 seconds of seeing me. #3 Hey China, #2 Konichiwa, #1 Ah…Japan. The topic of conversation is “Oh you don’t look like you are from Canada, America, wherever – you seem Japanese.” It’s driving me a little mad.
I’m really starting to dislike begging – in all forms. I know they’re poor and in comparison all foreigners are millionaires, but it seems the first thing I say now is “Sorry I don’t have any money to give you.” “Why?” they ask. “Because…” I say. Amazingly they try to be “my friend” for about 1 minute after I say that and disappear.
You’re damn straight I’m a bastard-but really; I don’t want to be your friend. The “Oh, give me your address…” with my reply “Oh, I don’t have one, I’m mobile.” doesn’t faze them. “Well, I’ll give you mine, and you can send me money.” Umm, no. Clearly it’s not only because I’m dehydrated, but I have not become a nicer guy in Africa. Everybody’s suss until proven wrong.
I’ve decided to fly around Ethiopia. Even though it’s not overland, it’s cheap ~US $106 to all my chosen destinations. Traveling is great if you’re in a great place with great people, but this sucks. Ok, so not everyone is a bastard, but at this juncture in my travels, I can’t be bothered.
Ethiopian Air
I’ve changed my acronym to ITHASPIT – Interesting Thoughts Heard At Some Point In Time or ISHAPIT (Stories).
I miss my friends, good times with them. There’s always room for more, but when you don’t have any when you need them, is probably the toughest part. Flashbacks in time- movies of the mind – and testing your mettle.
Ok, it’s later in the evening and I just had pizza (who knew I could find pizza here). Feeling much better now. The words for Horace Blanchard (Alaska) comes to mind. People are (basically) what you think they are. They reflect back the waves you think they do. I suppose because there is a higher concentration of people asking me for money, I just assume that’s what everyone wants.
I’m spoiling myself here. I guess it’s actually how I would normally be at home. Strange that the “old normal” is pure enjoyment.
February 20, 1997
F*cking hell, it’s the 20th. I’m sitting on the Kenyan side of Moyale right on the Ethiopian border. I just dragged my sore, dusty ass off the truck. It was two days – very long days – in a lorry ride in an open bed. I got to Isiolo – no problems, net a guy on the matatu who was on his way to visit a friend. I met his friends and stayed in the house that night. Hell of a nice group of people. I felt exceedingly bad about telling them I was from Canada. But, what do you do, you must protect yourself. The negotiated the price of the convoy trip KSH800. Not bad, I suppose. Anyway, I had the fine fortune of ending up in the back of a truck, open-bed of course, full of Coke, Sprite and Fanta bottles. Crates everywhere…well, I guess that’s what big backpacks are for. Throw it down and sit anywhere. Damn it was hot.
Convoy Trucks from Isiolo to Moyale
I wore my kikoy around my head like a turban. It’s quite an art getting the knack of wrapping it around your face to keep the dust out, while keeping it on your head and using the rest of it to block the sun from the rest of your body.
From Isiolo forward can be easily be considered barren wasteland. Beautiful, but a very stark beauty. Apparently the area hasn’t had rain for 3 years. Further in the north, past Marsabit I saw heaps of dead goats and cows that had died of thirst. Their bodies left to rot in the sun….dried biltong – mmm. Damn sad, though.
I did get another blatant proposal. Flattering, but no – I just can’t do it. The ladies said I had “beauty like a woman’s” (I think). Apparently it’s a high compliment; but they had fallen in love with me. My translator kept saying “why don’t you leave your seed in Africa. Don’t you like Africa?” Yeah…sure.
Village Stop For the Convoy from Nairobi to Moyale
Strange, when I wake up in the morning I know I’ve been dreaming that I’m sleeping in my own bed. I guess that’s my body’s way of keeping me grounded. I think more about what I’m going to do when I get back, than what’s up for me ahead. It’s almost the same mindset I was in when I first started. It’s the SIGN…maybe not. Always thinking about what else I’m going to be doing, first in London, next – Moab, then Tenth Muse. Maybe it’s my over-motivated ambition manifesting itself. I’ve made a mental note to send everyone a postcard from Addis. I think Ethiopia is one of the ancient places of wonder. Besides, nobody knows where the hell I am.
Now here’s a loaded question – have I figured out my life? I suppose if there’s anything I’ve learned is you can’t figure out anything until it happens. But even that argument is up for debate.
Interesting thoughts heard at some point in time by R.O. Abbreviation: ITHASP by R.O. Art should be appreciated and understood by the common person. If they don’t (we) understand it, why was it created? Art is supposed to reflect society. If it only is understood by the artist and his fellow artistes, than the whole reason for art has been lost.
February 16, 1997
Stuck in Nairobi…I went through major culture shock coming here. It’s a very modern city – by African standards. The Aussie guys I traveled with through the crazy night in Kampala took off to Arusha. Oh Kampala – dancing with the locals, proposals of marriage and declarations of love by the local ladies. The people here are off their heads. The first night in Nairobi, we went to a bar wanting a couple of cold ones. Can we say hooker city! Had to extricate ourselves carefully from that one. Stunning women though, I must say.
Kampala minibus station
Kenya’s a strange place. Everyone coming through is starting off or seasoned travelers transiting. You can always tell the ones just starting out. I can also say that I love Australian people. They are so mellow and just very cool – no worries, mate! I’m very keen on heading up through Ethiopia. After getting there, I’ll be in good shape. The toughest part really is just waiting around. I’ve met loads of traveling fools here: wingeing Brits, chill Aussies, loud Americans, polite Japanese – everyone. Fantastic!
Aussie mates I met on the road
February 11, 1997
We all stayed at the Virunga Hotel in Kisoro. It’s about 10 km from the border of Rwanda. Several overland trucks were there and none of them were going into Rwanda for the gorillas (from the movie Gorillas In The Mist). Rumors of high tension supported by the fact that 2 weeks earlier 3 Spanish aid-workers were killed; and 2 days earlier a Canadian preacher was shot in the pulpit. Other factors like the U.N. pulling out and apparently a price and bounty had been put on the head of U.S. citizens all added to the excitement. I went for it anyway. Sometimes you must risk – and this was one of those times.
Upon reaching the border we paid our fees and entered. Me, an Aussie/Kiwi couple and a German dude. We caught a taxi into Ruhengeri - found a place to sleep and got sorted out the gorillas trip. Going out for dinner later that evening it didn’t seem that tensions were all that bad. Cries of “mzungu” rang out everywhere as we sat down to eat. Upon walking back to the mission, we saw at least 40 armed army guards walking around. Even the guard at the mission had an automatic rifle.
Early the next morning we set out for the reservation office. It wasn’t too far. We waited around for a while hoping we hadn’t been given the wrong information. Finally we paid our money and were on our way. We had to stop and pick up our entourage. 4 armed guards and a couple of guides.
The hike itself too about 4 hours. The guides walked ahead with radios. They were spot-on. When we finally reached them – after stinging nettles, poachers traps and scrambling down gulleys, it was like out of a dream.
We saw the SUSA group – the largest and most habituated – thanks to Dian Fossey. We only sat with them for an hour – but it was magic. The little ones touch my back, pulled on my ponytail and i got to sit very close to many of them. The big silverback “Chief” was huge. Amazingly human-like and they have the most liquid-innocent eyes. I could go on forever, but we had to leave. I could have stayed much longer.
We stayed that night and the next morning, I left. Got to the border and sat on the back of a bike for the 10 km journey back to Kisoro.
February 6, 1997
The saga continues…
Coming out of Arusha I caught a bus (not through the park) and it was the most difficult ride yet. Arusah to Mwanza (bottom of Lake Victoria). With a broekn window rattling in my ear, backpack between my legs and a “mama” with two kids next to me – I made the journey in 36 hours. 36 long hours of dirt roads and potholes.
Getting to Mwanza I had surprisingly little trouble getting on the overnighter ferry to Bukoba. Without stopping, I went straight on to Uganda – through the city of Masaka and straight to Kabale. 70+ hours without stopping. After reaching Kabale and a harrowing ride from Mbarara, I tried to suss out if it was possible to see the gorillas in Rwanda as opposed to Uganda. The verdict, go to Kisoro in the Virunga mountains.
Welcome to Uganda
The next morning I jumped on the back of a truck, complete with 6 army soldiers with automatic weapons and rounds of bullets flung around their neck like scarves. About 20 minutes into the trip I find out they are all completely baked and had just been in Zaire fighting. A bit further on, we passed an overlander truck and guess who I see hanging out the side – Aussies – Shane, Matt and Cameron from Zanzibar.
As luck worked out we got a flat tire and I was able to jump into their truck for the ride to Kisoro. Great seeing them again! We hungout – had a few boulies. I’m definitely going to try to see them in London.
Picked up by Aussie mates on the road to Rwanda
February 3, 1997
We just finished the Ngorogoro Crater. I’m actually amazed at how barren it all is. The Serengeti and Crater both looked like I was driving through Kansas before planting. I must say, this place is FLAT! Although the Crater this morning was quite a bit different from the rest.
Driving down into the Crater we were met by a wall of Cape buffalo – massive herd. They all turned to stare – curious, disconcerting stares from very large beasts. Right after that we say a hyena kill an impala in the distance. (Carrie, that one was for you). I also saw the first real tusker – one tusk was about 1 ½ meters long.
To top it all off we finally say the real Big Five – Elephant, Cape Buffalo, Leopard, Lion and Black Rhino.
February 2, 1997
The legendary Serengeti Plain – as well as the proverbial safari. Yes, you guessed it; I’m on a 5-day safari of the Serengeti Plain, Lake Manyara, Ngorogoro Crater and Terengila. I’m writing from a tent in the Serengeti and I can hear the hyenas walking through the camp.
First stop, Arusha. The “most lovely town in Tanzania” is a pit. Tanzania is beautiful for scenery, but crap for a town feeling. On the drive up on the bus, I did see Mt. Kili(manjaro). Although it’s the tallest peak in Africa, it didn’t look as impressive from the confines of the bus. Upon reaching Arusha, I organized my trip with African Shoestring.
Our first stop was Lake Manyara. It’s the only place in Africa where the lions climb trees. Saw it.
Day 2: Serengeti Plain – VERY impressive. We’ve seen 4 of the big 5 in one day. We saw a cheetah kill. We also saw the tail-end of the zebra/wildebeest migration. The Serengeti is fabulous, but I think I’d have to spend weeks here to really appreciate it. Now, off to the crater (day 3).
