Fifteen words I think I know.

Language in Ethiopia is a curious thing. The country is made up of over eighty ethnic groups, which, you guessed it, means there are also over eighty languages used in country. Amharic, or Amarinya, is the official language, and Ethiopians who speak different languages will generally use it to converse with each other. The exception is with those from Tigray, the northern region that includes Mekele, who speak mainly Tigrinya and don't learn Amharic in schools. Amharic and Tigrinya both use the Ge'ez alphabet, which, to the uneducated eye, looks a little like a mix between Arabic and Hebrew, mainly because they're all Semitic languages. As far as I know, all the other languages use  the same alphabet that you're reading now.

Having spent my first couple of weeks in Mekele with a cousin who has worked hard at the language in his three months here, I've picked up a tiny bit of Tigrinya, and there are some overlaps between it and Amharic. So, without further ado, I present a very limited and quite possibly flawed list of fifteen vocabulary words for your polyglotinous delight.  

Abe- Where? As in “Abe ferenji?” for a sassy response to the hourly reminder that I am clearly not Ethiopian. When they understand what I'm saying, it's usually repeated and chuckled at.
Ai- No.
Amesetganalo- Thank you in Amharic. I start out strong and usually mumble by the third syllable. It's the thought that counts, right?
Bajaj- Also known as tuktuks or rickshaws in other countries. Covered tricycles with engines that run on diesel fuel and the prayers of the terrified ferenji passengers. Should you happen to travel to Israel, the word is apparently a vulgar term for breasts, which my Israeli friend was glad to inform me of after I'd told him we were going to grab one. 
Buna- Coffee. A huge part of Ethiopian culture. If you're lucky and stop at a place with fixed prices, or that doesn't do foreigner pricing, you can get a cup for 5 birr, or about twenty-five cents. Comes in tiny cups, but is apparently stronger than American coffee, not that I would know. I'll probably write a post at some point about it.hn
Ferenji- Foreigner. If you visit, expect to have this shouted at you, mostly by children or young adult males, many, many, many times a day, especially in tourist towns.
Habesha- Ethiopian, or the yin to ferenji yang.
Hambesha- Local bread. Chewy, circular, about three inches tall, and absolutely delicious. Add a couple of muz in and you have the breakfast of champions. ...or lazy volunteers who don't want to stop (or pay) for anything else.
Injera- Spongey, slightly bitter crepe-like food, present at a large percentage of meals, serves as plate and utensil. The other parts of the meal are piled on top and you rip off pieces of injera to pick up and transport nutrients to your mouth. I have probably eaten my weight in injera by this point.
Ishi- Okay. The most used/useful word in my vocabulary. Don't know what to say? Just mutter a short “Ishi.” and almost everything will turn out ishi.
Kunde- How much? Tigrinya. On the rare occasion that I understand the answer, more often than not my response is an appalled face, accompanied by “Ai!” because they've quoted the incredibly inflated “We-think-you're-dumb-enough-to-pay-this-ferenji-price.” Example: The bus ride from Axum to Shire officially costs 24 birr, and someone thought they'd see if we would pay 400.
Mai- Water. Another good one to know for future Israeli travel, as it means the same thing in both languages.
Muz- Banana. You can get a kilo for twelve birr, or about 1 birr per banana at basically any store you pass. Smaller and generally sweeter than the imported Costa Rican bananas we usually see on the mainland, but a little bigger and softer than the apple bananas of  Hawaii.
Owa- Yes. The word can also be replaced with a sharp intake of breath that in the US would be taken as a largely involuntary expression of surprise.
Shai- Tea. Not to be confused with chai, which I have yet to encounter.
Yakanele- Thank you in Tigrinya.

On the Road Again: Axum

After just under two weeks in Mekele, I said good-bye to the kids at Lola, spent my last evening giving the new volunteer a quick introduction to the city, and hopped on a six hour, six am bus ride to Axum, the first stop on our tourist itinerary.   

Let me just say that not even two weeks of acclimating to city transit could prepare me for the adventure that is inter-city, long distance bus rides in Ethiopia. Being the only ferenjis in the crowd outside the station at five in the morning did have the advantage of having a couple of kind souls take pity on us and help us find our bus in the chaos that occurred as soon as the doors opened, otherwise, we might still be in the Mekele station, wandering around hopelessly lost, getting pushed back and forth between buses. Once we finagled our way into seats that didn't require strangers elbows or shoulders embedded in our bodily mass for the duration of the ride, we were off!
...but not for long! It seemed like we stopped seventeen times in two hours. The first time wasn't even fifteen minutes in for some kind of security checkpoint where everyone disembarked, guards with large, intimidating arms (not talking about biceps here) took quick peeks into baggage and glanced briefly at IDs. We'd pause occasionally at no regular interval for even more people to wedge themselves into the bus, and then be on our way, until the next one, where once again, everyone would unload and we'd be sitting there confused and tired. Thank goodness for the multitude of caring, English-speaking people who could tell by the looks on our faces that we had no idea what was going on and would clue us in.   

Eventually, we did arrive in Axum, and with the help of  a man sitting outside a cafe and a horde of street children, found our way to the Africa Hotel, our cheerful, yellow, two-story, price-is-right, home for the night.

Axum is the holiest city of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and the acclaimed home of the Ark of the Covenant, making it in many people's minds the spiritual center of Ethiopia. It also functioned as the capital of a significant empire as early as the second century AD, and was home to the first Ethiopian king, Ezana, to convert to Christianity in the early fourth century AD. There's still an immense amount of archeological research to be done in the area, but some archeologists found catacombs in nearby hills that date back to the fifth century BC. Needless to say, it's pretty old school.

For the non-Orthodox visitor, the main attraction of the city is the granite stelae, or carved obelisks similar to the obelisks found in Egpyt. How these ancient people were able to move the stelae, the largest of which is 33m (108 feet) tall, is still a mystery. Generally, the stelae are attributed to a specific king, but like much of Ethiopian folklore, there's little historical backing for those attributions.

After dropping our bags in our room, we spent the afternoon wandering, and the next morning rented bicycles so we could see more of the sights in less time, at the same time avoiding the people selling unwanted souvenirs or children trying to engage us in stories about how they need us to spend 300 birr on a football from their father's shop. Have I mentioned that Axum is a serious tourist town? I got spoiled by Mekele, where there are few tourists and fewer people trying to make a chunk of change off of them. Let's just say the two cities, and my experiences with the locals there, were very, very different. 

I'm tired of typing, so have some pictures. 

Most of what people seemed to think of whenever Ethiopia came up in conversation back home is desert and famine. That's mostly based on the big news surge about it from 1985, four years before I was born. Needless to say, that's not an accurate view of the country.

We hung out on the roof of the hotel for a bit. You'll notice there are no railings between us and a two story drop. Ain't no thang.

 The largest stelae built, which fell shortly after being erected, probably because the base wasn't large enough to support it. You can see some others in the background. The one with the supports is King Ezana's, and the one closer to us was semi-recently returned to Axum after a stint in Italy, courtesy of the

And the famed Queen of Sheba pool. Dates back quite a while, but historicity of it actually being associated with her is questionable.

I have another post scheduled to go up in a couple of days, and I'll be working on a couple more about my final days in Mekele and travel adventures to be shared whenever I internet again.

'Round, 'round, 'round, I get around.

Color me nerdy, but I think the differences in transportation between here and home, or here and everywhere else I've ever lived, to be more accurate, are fascinating.

Generally, I prefer to walk pretty much everywhere. On the mornings that we're not exactly on time, or we're feeling a little lazy in the afternoon or evening, we'll usually hop in the taxi to take us down the hill. If it's after 9:30 or so, the taxi stops running, so we'll grab a bajaj.

I've mentioned before that walking tends to mean getting stared at, which I'm halfway in between getting used to, and getting annoyed with.
It also means that on occasion, guys, because I have never had a girl start a conversation on the street with me, will decide to stroll along and talk, which is sometimes fun and sometimes not as fun, usually depending on how much English they speak. (Which makes me in my English-as-my-mother-tongue-ness feel all kinds of guilty for not being able to communicate effectively with the locals.) Oftentimes, the conversation starts off with them saying “Are you fine?” which is the direct Tingrinya translation of the typical greeting, to which I smile and respond “Yes, I am.” and then they laugh a bit and keep on walking or staring, whichever activity they were involved with before I came along.
In reading the guidebook I stole from my cousin, and in conversations with other ferengi, it seems like in a lot of places in Ethiopia, the kids are so used to begging that it can be a challenge to get from one point to another without hordes of them asking for money or getting a little more demanding in their begging. Luckily, Mekelle is mostly off the beaten tourist track, so it's not as much of an issue. More often, kids will run up with their hands extended for a handshake, or they'll ask what my name is (one of the phrases I do recognize), walk a little while and then say good-bye. The little girl at the store a few houses down from where I'm staying will now say “Hi Liza! I love you!” whenever she sees me walking by.
Besides the stares, I love being able to really see what I'm passing while I'm walking, which is harder in a taxi, and pretty much impossible in a bajaj.

Taxis are not the yellow sedans that they are in the US. Instead, they're blue and white ten passenger vans, usually festooned with various pictures of Jesus, the cross, or Ethiopia paraphernalia, depending on the driver's preference. They run set routes and have a young man shouting out the route name or destination hanging out the window. He is also the one responsible for collecting the 2 birr (approximately 10 cents US) fare, as well as shuffling the passengers to maximize profits. I use the term “ten passenger van” loosely; I've made it a bit of a hobby to count heads on the ride, and it's usually somewhere around fifteen, but I've seen up to twenty people and a rooster. If I'm trying to grab a seat in the taxi during high traffic times, it becomes of bit of a pushing match to get in and secure a seat. I had dinner with a couple of friends last night, and they said they saw me playing American football trying to get into the taxi. Hey, it worked!

Bajaj are crazy. They call them tuktuk in India and are covered, motorized tricycles, basically, but that description doesn't clue you in to the terror of climbing up a rocky, dusty, unpaved road while the driver is pulling on the string that the windshield wiper is attached to with one hand and using his phone with the other, all while softly serenadinig his shaking passengers with one of the Tigrinya songs that is played on the radio all the time. I've only used a bajaj twice, mostly because it's significantly more expensive; the honest drivers will charge between 25 and 30 birr ($1.25-$1.30), while the unscrupulous ones will quote a price of 100-200 birr for the same ride. It also requires being able to communicate where you want to go, which can be a neat trick. The first time it mostly worked out, with the exception of nearly crashing into one of the many piles of rocks that line the route between the main road and the guest house, but the second time, was a bit more of an adventure. There were a couple of girls staying at the guest house for the night before heading out on a four day trek into the Danakil, and I was awarded the privilege of accompanying them home. To make things even more interesting, we needed two bajaj for everyone and their backpacks, and they separated from the get-go. In my previous bajaj experience, we told the driver “Medriginet condominums” and he took us to the bus stop and we directed him from there. Not so luckily for us, this didn't happen and we ended up somewhere in the vicinity of our destination, but I didn't recognize exactly where we were. Our driver didn't speak any English, so it turned into a comedy of errors, with phone calls going out to a friend of his who we could communicate with, my cousin who was still down in town hanging out with some friends, the girls in the other bajaj, and the director of the orphanage/guest house. Somehow with all of that happening, we did miraculously make it home, the other bajaj arrived shortly afterwards and both drivers got almost double the agreed upon payment for their troubles.
This experience, combined with a multiple hour New Years Eve taxi adventure in Budapest has convinced me that late-night adventuring that involves two parties that don't speak each other's languages is a bit of a Russian roulette. Sometimes you wind up at your destination safely, if a little late and with a few less birr in your pocket, and sometimes you end up stranded at a strange bus depot with an angry taxi driver yelling profanities at you as he drives away.

 

Life is beautiful.

Technology isn't exactly my best friend right now, but  I went to bed two nights ago without running water and woke up the next morning with sunshine coming through the window, donkeys braying outside and water coming out of the faucet when I turned the handle, so life is still so good. I am always amazed by how ungrateful I am for things I have when I have them, and how quickly I revert back to taking it for granted when it returns. Imma work on dat.

And now to share some of the beautiful things I see every day.

Blogger is hatin' and I can't move the text above the first picture, but it's a picture of the juice of heaven, no joke. I have no idea what they do to the mangoes here, but I could (and practically do) live off the stuff. Even having a piece of roof with rusty nails fall right between my cousin and his friend, and having two different birds share the contents of their bowels with us (do birds have bowels? I would assume so, but my aviary anatomy is a little lacking) will do nothing to deter us from our habit.

Just some cattle hanging out in the foundation of a building. Y'know... the normal thing.

On our way to juice one day, there was a huuuuge crowd waiting for this bike race to start. Sadly, I think cycling is even more of a man's game here than it is in the US. Lamesauce.

 Donkeys! Two doors down from the guest house where I'm staying. They were only there the first day, but we see dozens of them on a daily basis.

One of the views on the long way to the orphanage. The specks in the distance are goats.

Another on-the-way shot.

 These are genuine, pure-bred Ethiopian street dogs. I want to take them all home with me.

 Another view of the city from the longer walk.

 And the scaffolding! The houses here are all built out of cinder blocks or concrete (cement?), so I am continually amazed that this is how they get it all done.

Another beautiful view of the city.

You is "I love you" me?

There is nothing to start your day off better than walking in a door and having a whole horde of children run up to hug and kiss you and ask sweet questions.

After spending two days hanging out in Addis, I hopped on a quick one hour flight north to Mekele, where my cousin has been hanging out for the past six weeks or so volunteering at an orphanage. My plan is to be here for two weeks-ish, and then explore a bit of northern Ethiopia before heading south for my training, and I can already tell that leaving here is going to be sad.

That being said, Mekele ranks approximately ninety seven places higher in my book than Addis does. The traffic is less crazy, the buildings are more likely to be in a state of construction instead of falling down (and the scaffolding is enough to give an OSHA inspector a heart attack, but I'm mostly amazed by the ingenuity of it), I feel like I can actually manage to find my way around, the air is clearer, and I have something productive to be doing. Oh and there are about a million horses pulling carts, donkeys loaded up, and herds of cattle and goats being directed through the streets by men with long sticks.

Being a white girl here is definitely an interesting experience as well. Walking down the streets, it's more likely that a person will stare as I walk by than not, the children will call out "Ferenji!" (foreigner) or wave or walk up and shake my hand. The shy ones will stand where they are and maybe smile if I wave and smile at them first. Walking around yesterday late afternoon, a guy walked by and grabbed my hand quickly and kept on walking, which isn't a huge deal, but my personal space as an American was definitely "under attack" and I've been conscious of keeping my hands in my pockets or not anywhere grabbable since then. Really though, this is a safe area and just like anywhere else, stay smart and 99% of issues just won't exist for you.

Another fun thing: language! Here in the north people speak Tigrinya rather than Amharic, so I've been trying to pick up words where I can, recognizing that my vocabulary when I leave will probably still be less than fifty words. Luckily, the people I interact with most have the most important words ("Up!", Mama! You, me, etc.)' down pat.

Few places have wifi around here, so I'm relying mostly on internet cafes to send out emails and update ye olde blogge, but I'll try and run up to the Axum hotel that does have wifi in not too long to upload pictures. And, just so you can get a feel for how different things are, walking around trying to find an internet cafe, we had to walk ten minutes down the street and check in a few different places because the electricity is out on a large part of the street. Luckily, these folks handle it with a lot more calm than we do back in the states.

That's all for now, folks!

Things I never thought I'd think:

"We're finally that close to the Sudanese border!"

After a smooth check-in and a very long flight, I am here in Addis Ababa!

I live through fourteen hours every day, but for some reason, the fourteen hours between 10:20 am Annapolis time and 7:55 am Addis time felt especially lengthy. Maybe it was that I switched seats so that a mother-daughter pair could sit next to each other, not realizing that I would no longer be occupying a window seat, which as you know, are prime sleeping-on-a-plane locations; maybe it was the incredibly cute but very clearly unhappy youngest daughter of the beautiful Somali family sitting across the aisle from me; maybe it was the fourteen hours of coughing and sneezing and sharing germs with more strangers than I usually interact with in a week; or maybe it was simply the fact that I have been looking forward to this trip for so long that there's no way the flight couldn't drag on for an eternity. Whatever it was, it felt like forever.

Which, naturally, only made getting off the plane, through baggage claim and customs, and into a van on my way to a friend's house even sweeter. 

The drive here was an adventure unto itself, and I feel like so many of the things I've heard about African traffic are true. Pedestrians walk in and out of the road and in between moving vehicles like it ain't no thang, riders of the public taxis hang out the side windows, rules are more tentative guidelines, following distance is close enough to shake hands with the people in the back row of seats of the vehicle in front of you, the third lane area of the road is a perfect place to replace a tire or two, and you will definitely spot at least a couple trucks with blue-camoed guards carrying large, intimidating guns in the back.

I'm now showered, rested, and fed and enjoying the sights and sounds from the second floor bedroom where I'll be staying for a couple of nights until I fly north to Mekele to meet up with my cousin. 

So far, so good.

I (very stupidly) forgot to charge my camera battery in the chaos that was the two days before my flight, which I only realized when I'd pushed the shutter button to take a picture of one of the roadside markets and it didn't work. I'll charge it and get some "real" pictures taken and uploaded of Addis in the next couple of days.

Mahalo nui loa, nagyon köszönöm szépen, betam ameseginalehugn.

In exactly two days, assuming all goes well, I'll be at the airport about to board a fourteen hour flight to Addis Ababa.

At this point, I'm mildly overwhelmed with everything I still need to do, people I need to see, and things I need to pack. That feeling is absolutely nothing in comparison to how absolutely overwhelmed I feel with support and love and encouragement. Everyone I've told about this trip has been more positive and supportive than I could ever have imagined, from my amazing coworkers, who chipped in on a water filter system I'd been eyeing, and the patients at work to my incredible family that has made sure I'm stocked up with all my third-world emergency preparation and technical needs.

These past few days have been stuffed fuller than a Thanksgiving turkey with a variety of see-ya-laters, from trivia nights, to swing dancing, concerts, and family farewells and I am feeling sosososoSO blessed to have all these people in my life who care about me and wish me well. I know there will be challenges while I'm on this adventure, but having all these people back home praying for me and sending positive vibes my way will certainly help me get through those hard times.

So, if you're reading this and I haven't had a chance to say this in person, or if I've had that chance and didn't take it: thank you. Thank you a million times over for being in my life and for that support and encouragement you give me.

I'm at my metro stop now, and fingers crossed this embassy visit is more productive than the last one.

One Fine Day

My days here are numbered (sixteen, in case you were wondering), so I've been trying to pack my time off work full of family, preparation, and "I won't be able to do this for a while!" activities.

This weekend the padres and I made the five hour trek down and back to visit my step-dad's family in southwestern Virginia. The point of the trip was definitely to spend time with la familia, but luckily, there was some time in there for me to get my hike on too.

Saturday morning I headed out bright but not-too-early for Tinker Cliffs, a short section on the Appalachian Trail that's been on my to-hike list for a while. It was a beaaaaaautiful, sunny, and not terribly cold day, with just a few other people on the trail- practically perfect. I spent a few hours getting there, meandering my way up the mountain and exploring the cliffs, then making my way back down and home. All in all, an excellent way to spend my third to last (WOAH.) Saturday in the country.

Have some peeeectures:

Trail courtesy, left by some kind soul who thought it very important that we respect the bovine.

 

 

The engineering of this bridge looks a little dubious, but it held up just fine.

 

 

This was part of the 900 foot gain/.4 mi stretch without any switchbacks. What a hill.

 

 

In general, presence of icicles like these indicates sub-freezing temperatures, just in case you were unaware.

It'd snowed semi-recently, but not recently enough for it to still be on the trees, so the mountain sides looked like they'd been cross-hatched by a giant artist in the sky.

 

Enjoy more landscapes:

 

This shot courtesy of 3G service on the top of the mountain, and google, who was kind enough to tell me how to activate the self-timer on my camera.

 

 

And you know your hike has been good when you get back to the car and your boots and the bottom of your pants (not visible here, obviously) are caked in mud. I was still stoked about figuring out how to set the timer. So sue me.

 

In all likelihood, I won't make it out on another hike before I leave, but this was an excellent note to end on. Luckily, there are mountains in Ethiopia, and I'll have a bit of time to adventure over there as well.

 

In other news, I (finally) purchased my ticket. I totally could've put it off longer, but why not give myself a little more time to look at my bank account and be amazed at how quickly the money disappears?

 



Officially official.

I dropped more than half a paycheck on shots (as well as a pretty penny for a backpack that fits, and a mosquito net, and magic underwear, among other things) for my next adventure, so there's no backing out now!

In case I haven't announced it loudly enough, I'm moving to Ethiopia for a year-long internship doing permaculture for a small NGO. I'll be there for just about fourteen months by the time I get my fun-time travelling with my cousin and requisite prep work done, and I couldn't be more excited. (That statement is probably untrue, but I am pretty dang excited.)

If you're curious, this is the site I'll be working on, and here is a post talking specifically about what is and will be going on permaculturally. I'll be doing my permaculture design course and kickin' around for a month afterwards here, before heading back up north a bit to start the official internship.

That's the serious, official bid-nis.

I'm stoked beyond believe to finally make it to Africa, to learn lots, and hopefully help some folks out in the process. And maybe, just maybe, I'll get to see a zebra in its natural habitat, although I won't plan on getting this close:

(Taken this summer at the Salem County fair petting zoo.)

...or even this close:

 

(Taken summer of 2010 on a trip to the Big Island with some friends.)

 

 

I'll be doing more blog posts up until I leave and will try to cover a lot of the questions I've been answering in person on here, but if you have a specific question or a request for a topic, please comment and let me know and I'll be glad to respond. 

To life, to life, l'chaim.

Time to resurrect ye olde blogge.

Two (and now three!) posts in a year is probably enough to call a blog well and dead, but I'll be heading off on another adventure in the next couple of months that will need recording and sharing.

In the mean time, have some pictures of today's snow. I bundled myself up and headed out into the wild blue yonder with my new camera (Thanks Grandpa!).

 

Lucky for me, it warmed up a few degrees, so it was here long enough for me to take pictures, and disappeared shortly afterwards. Perfect.