Thread: Ethiopia

Hi there... sorry it's taken me so long to get back into the swing of things.. replying etc. Have just returned from a couple of weeks away, training in the UK, holdiay in SFO/NYC...

if you have any specific questions, let me know... sadly, McDonalds invaded 8 years ago... they do make good fries though !!!

C

McD's? Say it isn't so!

Wow! I've been thinking of going to Ethiopia next year, and lo and behold, my local newspaper comes through for me in the Sunday travel section. It's an AP Newswire story

Travel - July 14, 2002

Ethiopia offers picture
of African beauty
Capital, wildlife wows tourists
By John Leicester
The Associated Press


An Ethiopian girl, her hands and cheeks decorated with tattoos, holds a sheaf of dried grass at a market on the outskirts of Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia.

J O U R N E Y

Getting there: Ethiopian Airlines serves 44 international destinations, including major European cites, Washington, New York and cities in Asia and the Middle East. British Airways and Lufthansa also fly to Addis Ababa.
Lodging: Addis Ababa has a Hilton, a Sheraton and other less-luxurious hotels. Smaller towns also tend to have basic but clean hotels and guest houses.

Restaurants: One thing Addis Ababa does not lack is eateries, from simple cake and tea stores to posh restaurants with hilltop views of the city and varied menus. Aside from Ethiopian, there are also restaurants serving Italian, Thai, Chinese and other cuisines.

Getting around: Ethiopia's bus system is basic. For travel to remote areas or those with poor roads, hiring a sturdy four-wheel drive and driver is highly recommended. Ethiopian Airlines also runs internal flights.

Internet: There are cyber cafes in Addis Ababa, but connections are slow.

On the Web:
• Ethiopian Tour Commission
• Africa Travel Magazine
• travel.state.gov
• memory.loc.gov
• www.cia.gov



DIMEKA, Ethiopia — Imagine savannas of golden grass that whisper in a warm African breeze. Picture people with smiles as bright as freshly opened coconuts. Think gun-toting tribesmen so friendly you feel compelled to stop, shake hands and say hello.

Ethiopia: For me, it came as a total travel surprise.

To my shame, what I mostly knew of this landlocked country on the Horn of Africa was its horrifying 1984-85 famine that killed an estimated 1 million Ethiopians and turned rock singer Bob Geldof into an important humanitarian. He organized Live Aid, a trans-Atlantic fund-raising rock concert.

Hunger still bites. Five million of Ethiopia's 60 million people need food aid this year, the World Food Program says.

But two visits have shown me an Ethiopia that, while still brutally poor, also has stunning scenery, unique tribes, myriad wildlife and other treasures.

In Addis Ababa, Ethiopia's ramshackle, chaotic but strangely charming capital, don't miss the Merkato. Said to be east Africa's largest market, it offers a dizzying maze of stalls.

Sniff the incense, spices and bundles of green-leafed khat, a plant Ethiopians chew for its mildly intoxicating high.

Bargain for hand-woven embroidered fabrics, pottery, wicker baskets or a big cowhide drum. But hold tightly to wallets — Merkato's pickpockets are notorious.

Ethiopians are rightly proud of their coffee, traditionally served in a ceremony as elaborate as the Japanese ritual for tea. The fresh green beans are charcoal roasted before you, crushed and boiled to a tangy black brew. It's great for capping a typical Ethiopian meal: spicy meat and vegetable curries served with spongy pancakes made from the fermented flour of teff, a fine seed.

Larger than France and Spain combined, Ethiopia is as varied as it is big. Southeast of the capital, trek amid herds of warthog and antelope in the towering Bale Mountains. North, the Blue Nile plunges over spectacular falls and Christian pilgrims worship at ancient churches hewn from solid rock.

In rented four-wheel drives, we headed south to lakes Abaya and Chamo, taking nearly a whole day to cover the 300 miles. There, we hired a grizzled but jovial boatman who scared us stiff by navigating spitting-distance close to huge crocodiles sunbathing on Chamo's muddy shores.

One croc brushed with a splash against the boat's wooden hull, which suddenly seemed too small and flimsy for comfort. We giggled with relief when the boatman steered us away to see swimming hippos and white-winged pelicans fishing.

From the lakes, we drove southward for another day to the valley of the chocolate brown River Omo, which snakes into neighboring Kenya.

Travelers brave the remote region's spine-bruising rocky, dusty tracks to see its amazing ethnic peoples. Our guide said the Omo valley was cut off from the outside world as recently as two decades ago. For us — and, it seemed, for many of those we met there — it was like seeing visitors from another planet.

At a market in the tin- and thatch-roofed hamlet of Dimeka, women from the Hamer people, bare-breasted and in short goatskin skirts, pinched and giggled at my sunburned white skin. Others curiously fingered, played with and plated my girlfriend's blonde hair.

We, in turn, marveled at how they twist their hair into strands with butter and powdered red clay. Melting reddish butter trickled down their shiny brown cheeks and necks. Many women wear wide belts of cowrie shells around their necks. Some also have large heavy neck rings to show they're married.

"Nagaya" — hello — Hamer men said, shaking hands and inviting us to sit on small handcarved stools they carry wherever they go. Some men wear hairpieces sculpted from dried clay. Our guide said only men who have killed large animals like elephants or lions are allowed to wear them.

Marriage, complicated anywhere, is especially trying for the Hamer.

Men must vault a bull — lengthwise — to be able to marry. Boys start practicing early. Kolo, a 12-year-old who appeared at our camp site one morning zebra-patterned in white body paint, could already long-jump about five feet.

For women, it's even worse. Men thrash them with sticks at the wedding ceremony, our guide explained. Many women had big upraised welts and scars across their backs.

Men and women from other Omo groups scar their bellies and chests for decoration. They slice the skin and rub ash in the wound so the scars rise up large and proud. Chest scars we saw on Arbore men meant they had killed a foe from a rival tribe, the guide said.

Women from the Karo, a dwindling people who said just 1,500 of them are left, had nails, twigs or grass stalks through piercings in their lower lips. Mursi women have large clay plates inserted in their lower lips, stretching them outward.

Only occasionally did we see reminders of the modern world: buttons and Bic biro lids fashioned into earrings and necklaces; a man who adorned his headdress with part of a mousetrap; another who had part of a plastic electrical connector in his; and AK-47 rifles carried by many.

In the weeks since I got back to the concrete high-rises and snarled traffic of Beijing, where I lived, I've often wondered what the people we met are doing now. Tending to goats or fields, perhaps. Maybe digging for water in a dry river bed or dozing under a shady tree.

It was such a world away, it sometimes feels like a dream.