Round and round we go

Day Total: NO RIDING

Sleep ended today at 6:30am, our bodies not allowing for any significant deviation from their routines of the past 40 days. Last night’s overpriced dinner at a Lonely Planet featured expat cafe left me feeling a bit hungry – not a surprise – and thus this day began like nearly every other since my arrival on the continent.

The Adot Tina hotel, our little gem of a luxury oasis did not disappoint with its breakfast buffet: scrambled eggs, crepes with bananas and chocolate sauce, fresh bread, pineapple and melons, orange juice, and delicious machiatos. Paul and I grazed for about an hour before sorting out the laundry service outside the hotel. A leisurely machiato and cake with Kendra and we were off on what would prove to be a full day’s adventure.

The objective was simple: retrieve the package sent via DHL by Paul’s mum. Paul worked with the pleasant hotel receptionist to sort out where we needed to go and how to get there. Like that, we were off!

With directions and addresses written in the local language, we hopped in a taxi. It was soon apparent that either he knew not where we were going or simply could not read. The directions indicated a building next to a bus service depot, but instead we went from bus service depot to bus service depot, the fact that we were looking for DHL seemingly lost on him entirely. In frustration we told him to take us to any DHL shipping outlet and we quickly found ourselves at a travel agency that offered DHL services. “Sorry, we can’t help you without the tracking number”. Damn.

I have a mobile phone with a local SIM card for Ethiopia, but we had no credit. What to do? Taxi drivers always have answers in major urban centers. In this case he also had 100 Birr recharge cards for mobile phones. Done and done. Paul called his mom, waking her up at 3am in Atlanta, GA to get the tracking number. Good to go. Back to the travel agency, they indicated we would need to go to an “official” DHL shipping outlet and sent us off to follow one of their employees to this location.

We arrive at this location only to learn that we would need to make at least two more stops: one at a location near the airport to retrieve/complete customs paperwork, the second to the domestic airport terminal to actually retrieve the package. The people at this office were very helpful and told us exactly where to take taxis to and how much it should cost. Their directions assumed the shared mini-bus taxi, and with little to go on, we jumped on one of them. Apparently we needed to go to Magalanes and then to Bole where we could reach the office. Fortunately an enterprising young Ethiopian who loved Manchester United Football sensed we needed assistance and started telling us to follow him and where to go. Two buses later, we arrived at the first of the two DHL offices.

They had the paperwork ready! Unbelievable. 30 minutes later and we had instructions on where to go next. A fellow rider on the same mission showed up shortly after us and a had a taxi driver waiting. The driver agreed to run us to the airport while the fellow rider was waiting so we jumped at this convenience and soon found ourselves at the entrance to the Addis Ababa International airport cargo terminal. I was pretty sure we needed to go to the domestic terminal, but this taxi driver had just spoken with the DHL employees so what the hell, maybe I was wrong. I surrendered my camera to a security employee armed with an AK-47 machine gun certain that I would not get it back, but the mission must continue…

Into a sea of people, a slurry of hopeless questions asked, a few smiles, and somebody was finally sorting us out properly. It turns out that the cargo terminal is for commercial shipments and we did indeed need to go to the domestic terminal. “Wait here” we were told and soon we were ushered into a van full of airport employees. Where were we going? Don’t know. Who was our escort? I think he worked for the airport, and if so I want his work uniform of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. 15 minutes later we were in the international terminal, our escort now convincing Paul and myself that he knew nothing of what he was doing. We quickly grabbed the paperwork and made our way back to the parking lot to get a ride to the domestic terminal. Surprisingly the taxi driver wanted $5 USD for a 3-minute trip. Our escort, desperate to hang onto us, negotiated and paid the fare.

Finally arriving at the domestic terminal, only Paul was allowed to enter. The escort was asked a series of difficult questions by the security people and now aware that his entry would be denied, he finally buggered off. Anticipating a maximum 30 minute affair, I sat down at a small eatery setup in the airport parking lot. I waited. Bored, and hungry, I ordered a plate of pasta. I napped. I involved myself in negotiations between a Chinese businessman trying to negotiate transport of his goods to Bahir Dar (our previous rest day location). In the back of my mind I was concerned that we would not reach the laundromat in time for our clothes, but after 2 hours, Paul emerged victorious and ravenously hungry. We celebrated with plates of pasta, realizing that we had no local currency. Fortunately, I had an emergency $100 US bill in my wallet. A quick negotiation on rate and suddenly we had exchanged the money just like that.

Another attempt at taxi fare robbery found us walking out of the airport area and onto the streets to negotiate a better rate. Up against the clock, we had to bit the bullet and get back to our laundry. Success! And clean clothes…

We celebrated with a late afternoon/evening of gorging ourselves: a large pizza and a juice each, followed 3 hours later by double cheesburgers and milkshakes. Not rested, but well fed, we retired to the hotel room to grapple with the newly updated race results. Argh. More questions.

Addis Ababa, I love you for the variety of your food and the quality of your Italian eateries.