Addis Ababa
Addis Ababa. My first time in Ethiopia, the proud beautiful country where everyone looks like a famous marathon runner except of course that’s just a false syllogism in a tired and excited mind. The language here is not Swahili, as I read in my Swahili language guide. It is, rather an old, biblical language – Aramaic, more or less. I don’t understand a word of it. The people are beautiful, with fine features, large, deep-set eyes and a dark coloring that for some reason suggests royalty to me. It’s cold and rainy here – cold compared to Dar anyway. Mid to upper 60s during the day. Not that I’ve seen day yet. I got here last night and then had the stupid, truly inane experience of being trapped in the airport because I didn’t have the right currency. They don’t convert TZ shillings here; they don’t have ATMs at the airport that take foreign cards. The entry visa cost $20. I only had $10, but I had eight euros – a five euro bill and two coins. They changed the five for $7 but wouldn’t take the coins. So then I had $17 and the 3 euros. No dice. At the visa counter, they knew it was ridiculous, sending me all over the place looking for $3, but those were the rules: no credit cards, no currency trade. I went panhandling around the baggage claim to see if there were any Americans willing to trade $3 for 3 euros, but no one would. The one American I found said he didn’t have enough money to get to where he was going.
There was a folk song about that years ago – “did he ever return, no he never returned, and his fate is still unknown – poor, poor Charlie. He will ride forever ‘neath the streets of Boston…” all about some guy who didn’t know the train fares had gone up by a nickel, so he couldn’t get off the train. And yes, these are the things that cross my mind when I’m lugging too much stuff around an airport at night. Finally they allowed me to go all the way out – past all the desks – to the arrivals lounge, where I found some others on their way to the Hilton. And there someone gave me the $3 so I could go back, pay for my visa, get my passport, go through customs and collect my luggage.
The air at the airport smelled infinitely better than the air in Dar. It seemed fragrant with eucalyptus and cool. The driver, named Samson, was very proud to tell me that Ethiopia was the only country that had never been colonized. It had been occupied briefly by the Italians, but that was it. Five years.
Happily, I found Sonia and Suzy in the restaurant. And Jot for that matter. Plus, Cindy was there at the check in desk just as I was arriving. So I got the bad news that I had to get up at 4:30 am because we were leaving at 5 am to catch a 7 am flight.
