Bahir Dar: Amazing Monasteries and Not-So-Majestic Waterfalls

After a few days in hectic, crowded Addis, we headed for the peace and serenity of Bahir Dar.  Located on the shores of Lake Tana, the 3rd largest lake in Africa, Bahir Dar is the jumping off point to visit the dozens of monasteries in the area, as well as the Blue Nile Falls.  Even though it is the third largest city in Ethiopia, BD still has a sleepy, tropical quality, but also a holy and mystical vibe, thanks to its high density of places of worship in the area. This all seems well and good until 4am, when you are awoken by the chanting of monks (which I, conditioned by my time in Cambodia, mistook for karaoke), or 5:30am, when you are re-awoken by the Muslim call to prayer.

Since we were already awake, we decided to get an early start on the day, knowing that we had a lot to cover in our one day in BD.  After a quick breakfast, we met up with two girls we had met on the plane from Addis the night before, who were also only in town for the day.  Together we negotiated to rent a motorboat for the morning ($25 each) so we could visit some of the local monasteries, which are located on 20 of the lake's 37 islands.  These monasteries, which together constitute a UNESCO World Heritage Site, date back to the 14th century but are largely still active.  Women can only visit a few of these monasteries however, so we set off for the two most accessible, female-friendly sites.

Although the shores of the lake were the setting of common activities like bathing, laundry, and children's water fights, the lake itself is home to a unique form of transportation: the papyrus boat.  Developed by the Egyptians 6,000 years ago, these boats are made from bundles of papyrus reeds, fashioned into the shape of a canoe or kayak.  These single-seat vessels take approximately two weeks to build and last for up to six months.  Today they are used mainly for fishing and the transportation of goods to and from the islands, a journey that can take three or four hours on Lake Tana.

Using papyrus boats to transport charcoal to the island monasteries

Of course, being in a motorboat, it only took us 45 minutes to reach the first monastery.  When those of us in the US think of "monastery" we tend to think of a giant stone fortress, cold, damp, and colorless.  The Ethiopians have a different concept of "monastery"--extremely simple living quarters next to a small, one-story, circular building with a straw floor and vibrant murals, which serves as the church.  All the ancient monasteries/churches in this region have a similar design inside: three entrances (for men, women, and clergy), and a square structure inside called the Holy of Holies.  On three sides of the Holy of Holies there are doors (through which only priests and monks can pass), and on the fourth a set of three false windows.  The outside the Holy of Holies and the ceiling are covered with colorful paintings depicting various biblical stories and the miracles of local saints.  Inside the Holy of Holies is a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, which is said to contain the original stone tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were written. Those who belong to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church (40 million people) believe that the original Ark is kept in the Church of Saint Mary of Zion, located in Axum in northern Ethiopia.  

After walking past the living quarters of the priests and nuns of the Entos Eyesu (left), we arrived at their small church (below left).  Upon entering, I was struck by a few things. First, how colorful the murals the covering the Holy of Holies and the ceiling were.  Second, how much blood was depicted in these graphic paintings.  Third, how small it was, given that services are still performed twice a day. There are no seats and barely enough space for a couple dozen people to stand.  Speaking of standing, at every church in Ethiopia there is a pile of polished sticks, each of which is about four feet tall.  These are called leaning sticks, since they used by monks and priests when they stand for days in prayer.  (Apparently too many elderly monks were falling down during long meditative sessions.) Our guide took some time to explain the biblical stories painted on the outside of the Holy of Holies and took particular pains to describe the story of St. George, the patron saint of Ethiopia.  St. George was a Roman soldier/priest most famous for slaying a dragon and saving a princess; apparently fairy tales like to pull stories from the lives of saints.  We also learned the story of Saint Jerome, who managed to tame all the wild beasts around Bethlehem.  Even though he is often depicted riding a lion, our guide pointed out that "it is hardly possible for a man to ride a lion like a horse," I think out of fear that we farangi (foreigner) women would see a lion and try to jump on it.  Our guide, Riyot, who had a knack for being unintentionally funny, also coined a new term, "wild toilet opportunity," which is an ideal time and setting to go pee in the bushes. 

After leaving Entos Eyesu we rode for another 40 minutes to Zege Peninsula and the Ura Kidane Meret monastery, the oldest and most famous of those on Lake Tana (right).  A twenty minute walk in from the dock, the building is make of bamboo-like sticks and giant wooden doors.  Although most of the frescos date from the 13th and 14th century, there are some new additions, as evidenced by the fact that they contain machine guns. Adjacent to the church was a "museum"--a glorified stall-- with a collection of ancient crowns, illuminated manuscripts, and crosses tipped with ostrich eggs.  The justification for using ostrich eggs has something to do with the fact that if the male parent leaves it, the female will protect it, which is supposed to correlate to the stories of Jesus and Mary, I believe.  It seems that every aspect of the churches in Ethiopia, down to the number of stairs outside, has some numerical significance/relationship to the Bible.  There are the holy trinity, the four gospels, the seven heavens, the twelve apostles, etc. However, it seems you can get too much into this numerology, since, by the end of the trip, whenever we would ask "what is the significance of X number of Y in this building's design?" and our guide would give us a skeptical look and say "nothing."

A monk teaches a young pupil

Following a quick lunch of traditional Ethiopia food back in Bahir Dar, we boarded a bus with our afternoon guide, Tom, and a dozen other travelers to go to the Blue Nile Falls.  Although we were warned by the Lonely Planet that the falls are not as majestic as they once were, thanks to the installation of a new hydroelectric dam, we decided to go anyway.  The 45 minute drive to the town near the head of the falls was glimpse into life in the countryside of Ethiopia.  The land in this region of the country is vast, brown, and arid, with a few stick huts dotting the sides of rugged mountains.  Although 85% of people in Ethiopia depend on agriculture to survive, it is not an easy place to farm.  The land is rocky and dry, the heat punishing, and the rains unpredictable, but somehow people have managed to survive here for thousands of years, a testament to the resilience of its people.

Adding to their challenges, only 13% of people in Ethiopia have access to electricity, which makes the new hydroelectric dam (or "water plantation," according to the locals) a serious blessing.  Short-sighted tourists may complain that the waterfall has been cut back to 5% of its original volume, but thousands of newly-connected families are experiencing a significant improvement in their quality of life.  Of course, the country remains one of the poorest in the world (214th out of 228) and most people still lack access to clean water and proper sanitation.     

Upon arriving at the falls after a short walk and boat ride, we walked around for a while, assisted over the rocks by young, but much more agile, children. Then, exhausted by the scorching heat, we headed into the town for a soda and some shade.  After staring at me for a while, the proprietress of the little shack/cafe asked me, through the guide, if I was "half-caste," by which I think she was asking if was half Ethiopian, half something else.  After explaining that no, my family is from India, she indicated that something in the shape of my face and/or head is typical of Ethiopians.  As it turned out, this was to be the first of many such awkward and bewildering encounters during our trip.  

When we returned to our guest house that evening I was extremely tired.  Sitting in a comfortable A/C office for the past eight months (and before that, the cold of Ann Arbor) has made me less tolerant of the heat and direct sunlight, it seems.  Suffering from heatstroke, I climbed into bed and left it to Camila to sort out our hotel arrangements for our next few stops, lest we should have a repeat of what happened in Addis...

The town near the Blue Nile Falls

Addis Ababa: Bum Rushed by Donkeys

I can just see it now, my obituary in the Brown Alumni Magazine.  "Zara Ahmed, aged 25, was crushed to death by a stampede of donkeys on the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on February 12th.  Why she didn't have the sense to get out of the way is unknown.  In light of this tragedy, Brown is incorporating a session on 'Donkey Dodging' into the freshman orientation curriculum."

Okay, so I'm being melodramatic.  But when you're walking down the street of a major city you don't expect to suddenly face a pack of donkeys running down a hill right towards you.  And we did get out of the way--the donkeys just happened to also turn in that same direction.  

So how did I end up in this situation, you ask? Well, I agreed to go on vacation....

This whole adventure started when my friend Camila (an American living in Kigali) asked me if I wanted to join her on a trip to Ethiopia.  Having not taken a day (or even hour) off of work in more than four months, I said yes.  So one Thursday afternoon we set off on an ambitious five city, ten day tour of Ethiopia.

Our extensive pre-trip planning told us that this wasn't a popular time of year to travel to Ethiopia and that there was really no need for hotel/hostel reservations.  Nevertheless, we tried our damnedest to arrange all our accommodation in advance, but couldn't seem to get through to a place in Addis Ababa (our first stop) that would take reservations.  We decided that we would ask to crash at a the house of a friend of mine from grad school, if nothing else worked out.

This was not a great plan, as it turned out.  Arriving in Addis at 8:30pm Thursday night (and after having the immigration guy tell me he only wants to marry an Indian woman), and still without a hotel reservation, we found that our Rwandan phones, which we had counted on working in Ethiopia (the same network is used in both countries), didn't work, so we couldn't call my friend and beg for a bed for the night.  Without any other options, we took a taxi to the main backpacker area of of town in search of an available room.

Addis, in comparison to Kigali, is a large, sprawling, dirty, polluted, but still charming city of about 4.5 million people, the equivalent to half the total population of Rwanda.  What struck me most during the 20 minute drive was how many people were out walking around at 9pm.  In Kigali, once the sun sets at 6:30pm, the city becomes a ghost town--"nightlife" is an oxymoron in Rwanda.  In Addis, the streets were filled with people young and old, coming and going, and shops were still doing a bustling trade.  The young couples were holding hands, families outwardly affectionate to each other, which was quite in contrast to the more reserved nature of Rwandans.  And there were neon lights and traffic jams- two other things you don't find in Kigali.  Although just a two hour flight away, it felt like we had come to another continent, if not a different world.

We were shaken out of our reverie when we arrived at our intended destination, a backpackers' establishment recommended in the Lonely Planet.  Before we could even open the cab door (or the cab driver could open it for us, since the rickety thing couldn't open from the inside), the guard told us they were full for the night, but recommended we try a place across the street, also a LP recommendation.  It too was full, but the manager recommended a place around the corner.  The cab driver, who had come with me into the second place to inquire, got on his cell phone and (claimed to) call the third hotel, which he said was also full.  (They speak Amharic in Ethiopia so there was no way of verifying his claims.)  However, predictably, he said he knew of another hotel that was sure to have a room available--it was owned by a friend.  At his mercy, we agreed to check out that hotel, which it turned out was another 15 minute drive away.

The shag on the dashboard of our cab, which went all the way across. 

After a few wrong turns, we finally found the hotel down a long dark alley.  Unfortunately, when the driver and I went inside, we found that the manager was in the middle of negotiating the letting of the room to an Asian businessman.  The driver, now feeling guilty and embarrassed, started talking to the driver of the businessman's taxi.  That guy, who actually spoke a little English, asked us if we would be willing to pay $30 for a room for the night.  (All these other places were in the $10-$20 range for a double.)  It was by then 10pm and we would have paid 10 times that for a room, so we of course said yes.  Our cabbie then followed the other a short distance, turning off the main road, past a large, proper hotel, to another guesthouse.  Blessedly, the fifth place turned out to be the charm, and after five minutes of panicked pounding on the gate, we discovered that they had a room was available for $30.  It was basic but clean, and they promised us the shower had hot water.  (I am a baby and hate cold showers.)  Exhausted, all we wanted was a hot shower, a cold drink of water and a good night's sleep.  Unfortunately, the shower turned out to be frigid, I couldn't get my water-sterilizing pen to fit inside my Nalgene without some contortions, and mosquitoes buzzed all night, keeping us awake.

This was not the optimal start to our trip, but we hoped, as Jim Lovell/Tom Hanks put it, that we'd "had our glitch for this mission."

The next morning we woke up happy to not be on the street, but in desperate need of a hot shower.   Because it seemed that the odds of our shower getting fixed were extremely low and we still had another night in Addis, and it was Camila's birthday, we decided to splurge and move to the hotel we had passed on the corner, which looked like it actually had hot water.  And so at 8am we paid our bill and  hauled our stuff down the street to the Axum Hotel, which was probably the best decision we made during the entire trip.  Not only did the room (which was smaller but mosquito-free) have hot water (although we did require assistance from the bellhop to figure out how to get it to work), but the reception staff was able to solve all of our other problems, namely not having a phone that worked.  And by "solve" I mean the receptionist let us rent her SIM card for $7 a day, which was extremely helpful since only Ethiopians can purchase/legally rent a SIM card.  Meanwhile, Abel, another concierge, kindly drew us a map of how to get into town and where to find the Ethiopian Airlines office so we could buy tickets for our travel within the country.  He and the bellhop even put us on the correct minibus (i.e. a packed 14 seater van with a young guy hanging out the side shouting the next destination), after we ate breakfast at a small place around the corner.

During ride to the center of town, we got a better look at Addis.  Even more bustling in the daytime, the city is a densely-packed, colorful mix of the modern and traditional, rural and urban.  Most women, Christian and Muslim alike, keep their heads covered, but wear their white head-scarves over western dress.  Mercedes sedans crowd the road alongside goats, sheep, and yes, donkeys.

Thirty minutes and $0.14 later, the bus "conductor" told us to get out, as we had arrived at Meskal Square, massive intersection in the heart of Addis.  He pointed to the right and gestured that we should walk in that direction--apparently the hotel bellhop had explained our incompetence to him.  And so we started walking, over the broken sidewalks (all sidewalks in Addis are broken) into a more commercial part of town.  And that's when we got bum-rushed by the donkeys- in the middle of a main road, in the middle of the day, with cars whizzing by.  There were about 10 of them, trotting down the hill.  Unfortunately, lost in our wanderings we didn't see them until the last minute, but we did make an effort to get out of the way.  But it seems that donkeys interpret "I'm getting out of your way" to mean "Please, come run directly in this direction."  And so we went to Plan B: stand perfectly still and hope that, even as stupid as they are, the donkeys will try not to knock you over.  Luckily, our donkeys were smart enough not to knock us over, so we continued on our way, now very much awake.

We spent the next two hours at the Ethiopian Airlines office in the swanky Sheraton Hotel, trying to work out our itinerary for the rest of our trip.  It turns out that if you fly EA into the country, all your domestic tickets are 1/3 the regular price, meaning that each of our 20 minute flights came to about $30--including a snack! What value! (US carriers, take note.)

Another problem solved, we continued walking up the hill into town.  Addis located is at over 7,000 feet elevation, so climbing a hill (or even walking on a flat street) can really wind you.  Our next destination was one of the four (according to the Lonely Planet) tourist attractions in Addis: Holy Trinity Cathedral.  In another display of Ethiopian hospitality, a nice young man noticed our confused wanderings and kindly guided us to the church (which you really do need a local to show you to).  The grounds around the cathedral were silent and still, with hundreds of people standing outside in reverent prayer.  Most of the people were women but all were clad in white, with their heads covered.  We felt quite out of place in our street clothes, following our guide through the throng. However, instead of hostile looks, we received only smiles and a warm welcome from the groundskeepers, who invited us to walk around and apologized for the fact that a religious ceremony was going on and we would not be able to go inside the church.  

Holy Trinity Cathedral, the second most important place of worship in Ethiopia.

And so we thanked our guide and walked around, admiring Ethiopia's second most important place of worship and trying not to disturb those in prayer.  After a little while we decided to carry on and head towards King George IV Street and the national museum.  Another 30 minutes of walking uphill in the heat and we were ready for lunch.  This turned out to be good timing, since everything in Addis (and indeed, all of Ethiopia) closes from noon until 2pm.  One giant pizza, $3, and half an hour of eavesdropping on a group of young Euro tourists later, we walked across to the street to the museum. The main draw of the museum is Lucy, the 3.2 million year old fossil of a bipedal hominid; until late last year she was our oldest known ancestor. Admission to the museum is only 5Birr ($0.37) but for that price you can see the throne of Haile Selassie, some artworks by famous Ethiopian artists, and a display of ancient fossils discovered in Ethiopia, as well as Lucy.  Strangely enough, the crown jewel of the museum, Lucy, is kept in the basement, in the very last, cramped, room.  Nevertheless there were two striking things about the display.  First, Lucy is tiny, just over 3 1/2 feet tall.  Second, the area in which Lucy was found is a huge, desolate, barren, scorching desert.  How the paleontologists managed to find Lucy in this vast and harsh environment is beyond my comprehension.  Even a non-scientist like me can appreciate the enormity of their achievement.

After the museum we caught a minibus back to the hotel, where we congratulated ourselves on successfully navigating our way home by taking a nap.  Then it was on to dinner at a cafe across the street. One of the most unexpected things about Ethiopia is, for a country most associated with the word "famine," how cheap food is. Really, you have a try very hard to spend $5 on a meal, and even that seems silly since even the cheapest meal is delicious.

The next day, Saturday, we decided to try our hand at visiting another church, St. George Cathedral in the heart of the city but just our luck, it was another holiday and we could not go inside.   Another plan foiled, we decided to do something I had never done before: drink coffee.  Yes, believe it or not, I survived four years of Brown, three years of grad school, and two years of being a manager at a fair-trade coffee shop without drinking coffee.  But since I'd eaten caterpillars in Cambodia, uncooked sheep liver in South Africa, and bushmeat in Cameroon, I figured that should try coffee in Ethiopia.  Unfortunately, something possessed me to order an espresso.  Only a significant amount of sugar could make it palatable, but I did get it down and vowed to try coffee again, without sugar, before we left the country.

The view of Piazza (the main square) from St. George Cathedral.  That's St. George on horseback.

After our coffee stop we carried on through town, stopping to buy some handicrafts along the way.  Then it was time for a lunch of injera (which is like a spongy roti/bread), and tamarind-y beef--delicious.  We also had some avocado/mango/papaya shakes, which seem to be ubiquitous in Ethiopia.  From there we went back to Meskal Square, having walked the length of the city (or the city as it appears in the Lonely Planet's map), and caught a bus back to our hotel.  Our flight to our next destination wasn't until 8pm, so we killed some time in bookstores, cafes, and internet cafes until heading to the airport at 6pm.  Ours was the only flight of the evening, the small domestic terminal was empty and we passed the time watching children play and enjoying our Kindles (which I now believe to be the savior of every traveler).

As we sat there, gearing up for our next set of misadventures in Bahir Dar, all I could think about was how thankful I was to be indoors...and away from all those donkeys....

Update: Work and Vacation

Again, another long absence from blogging. My apologies. This time my excuse is that my mentor/boss has resigned and I am taking over her duties, on top of my own.  (See, isn't that a legitimate excuse?)  Although I'm excited to be getting more responsibility, I now spend a good portion of my time uttering the following prayer to the public health gods: "Oh global health deities, let me not screw this up."  Clearly, my time is being used in very productive ways.

In anticipation of another absence and the resulting angry email from my parents, let me share some good news: I'm going to Ethiopia!  After not taking an hour off in 3.5 months, I decided it was time for a little vacation.  Because I have to take this vacation before my boss leaves and I become permanently tethered to my desk, I will be gone from Feb 11-22, so don't expect any posts from me then.  However, I promise a flood of posts upon my return, complete with pictures, or at least links to my pictures.  During those 11 days we will be going to the historic cities of Lalibela, Axum, Gondor, and Bahir Dar, as well as Addis Ababa.  If you want to learn more about these places (and to make sure they're safe, which I promise you they are) you can check out Wikitravel.

In case I don't get to post before I go, let me just say that I wish you all could join me on this trip and that its not too late to do so-- just jump on the next plane to Addis Ababa! I'll meet you there!

Christmas in Kigali

A belated happy holidays to you all! I hope you had a relaxing, enjoyable time with family and friends and are ready for new adventures in 2010!

So how did I spend my first holiday season in Kigali, you ask? Well it was a pretty quiet affair, particularly given that I had to work Christmas and New Year's eves-- federal work waits for no (wo)man.

However, I was able to leave early Christmas eve for a lunch at a co-worker's house, which was a very nice, loud, family affair.  I went with some of the drivers from our office, who decided that we should go by minibus.  Most people in Kigali get around town by minibus, which are basically old rickety minivans crammed with twice as many people as the vehicle was designed for.  I've traveled extensively by this means during my other trips, but this was my first experience with the minibuses of Kigali and was memorable for two other reasons.  One, I saw how a gearshift works.  Squashed up front between the minibus driver and a friend from work, the gearshift (which was hot!) was right up against my leg.  The plate/squishy leather that usually covers the base of a gearshift was missing, exposing the inner workings.  I spent the one-hour ride fascinated as the driver maneuvered the gearshift, which was in desperate need of some WD-40.

The other reason the ride was memorable was that I saw my first person with eleven fingers: the bus "conductor".  Apparently there are quite a few people in Kigali with eleven or twelve fingers, but the young man collecting the 180 RWF ($0.31) fare was the first I had met.

The lunch was a festive event, with attendees ranging from only a few months to 80+ years old and coming from a variety of countries.  I made friends with the kids by using my patented "no-shared-language-required-to-find-this-funny" 3 fingered reverse handshake, originally taught to me by street children in Cambodia.  (Its a  difficult handshake to explain but you can ask any of my travel companions for a demonstration.)

Christmas day dinner was spent at another colleague's house, with another couple from work sharing the meal with us, making it 4 real adults, a 6 month old baby and me at the table.  I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to be a companion for the baby or for the two married couples, but I felt more comfortable with the baby, so spent most of my time with him.  After dinner I played Wii for the first time.  It turns out that in the "Redneck Jamboree" game I excel at sawing wood but am terrible at dynamite fishing.  Something to work on in 2010.

The rest of the holiday weekend was spent at various brunches and potlucks.  The nice thing about not having family to spend the holidays with is that other people take a lot of pity on you, invite you over, stuff you full of food, and then make you take a week's worth home with you.  Now I wish it could be Christmas every week.

As for New Year's Eve, it turns out a friend of mine from Brown is currently working in Rwanda, out in the boonies. He and a bunch of his colleagues came to town for the weekend so we caught up over dinner and I went to a party at his NGO's house, which is just down the street from mine.  It was a nice change to hang out with people my own age, instead of  people old enough to be my parents.

My birthday was spent eating the food I had collected over the week, which, for those of you who know me well, recognize as the best birthday present I could have asked for.

Although its hard to get into the Christmas spirit when its 80 degrees and sunny out, Kigali does its best to help.  At the supermarket there was a (very scary) animatronic (black) Santa waving out front and a (plastic) Christmas tree was put up in the lobby of my building.  Another thing that doesn't seem to change from one continent to another, that Christmas tree is still up. Let's see if its still there in June-- that would really be a taste of home. :)