Arrival in Addis Ababa
In Ethiopia, tissues are called "soft." Children would follow us as we walked around the towns and villages, calling out "soft, soft" while thrusting the small plastic packets at us. Usually, they aren't.
We arrived in Addis Ababa on a Sunday. As our taxi drove north from the airport, we passed worshippers draped in white surrounding a large church. Some clung to a fence, the top of which had been painted with white crosses. We slowed to let the large groups pass, then continued north, past the more upscale southern neighborhoods, up Bole Road and through a seemingly deserted Meskel Square. drove through the center of town, then wound our way through shanty towns as we approached the Piazza. The taxi stopped before a gate leading to a small parking lot. We had arrived at the Baro hotel. The lot was wet, the sky overcast. It had been raining for two days straight before our arrival.
The hotel rooms were spacious, but dark and somewhat dank. We looked in at some of the other nearby budget hotels, but were disappointed. Of them, the Taitu Hotel looked most promising. The floors and stairs were stained a dark aged wood, and the interior was cool but imposing. Built by the Empress Taitu in 1907, it was the country's first government hotel. The manager showed us the room she kept. It was large but lacked a bathroom. The hotel lacked left luggage facilities, however, and water was available only at certain hours. We passed.
Ed called the Hilton Hotel in the center of town and arranged a discounted room. We hailed another taxi for the trip back to the center. We drove once again through the shanty towns, before arriving on the broad lanes of Menelek Avenue, where a park took up the middle island. The park was empty. It was fenced in, and the gates were locked. The taxi drove into the hotel parking area and dropped us off. We checked into our rooms.
By now it was past noon. We had left Cairo at midnight, and the inflight meal was all we had had since the night before. We left the hotel to search for food. The city was quiet. A few taxis prowled the roads. An occasional blue minibus trailed dust in its wake.
We walked to the Old Milk House, tucked away on a seemingly deserted cul de sac around the corner from our hotel. Walking around the building, we couldn't find the entrance. A local Ethiopian emerged and showed us an elevator to the top floor of the building.
The elevator left us at the dining room. From the windows we had a sweeping view of our surroundings. We sat down by the terrace and ordered lunch. Addis Ababa sprawled below, just at our elbow.
Lunch was fine if nothing to write home about. I ordered chicken mixed with injera. The closest thing I could compare it to is a spicy stir fried pasta dish. The day remained overcast and cool, and we decided to take a walk around town.
Leaving the Milk House, we walked south down Menelek Avenue towards Meskel Square, passing Africa Hall and the Church of Kidus Istafanos to the east. At the square we turned west and walked to the Railroad station. Buses filled the parking lot, and people crowded to board them as they prepared to ply their routes. The station itself was run down; it looked as though it seldom saw trains at all.
Walking north from the train station we climbed Churchill Road, past gift shops and the National Theater, up the hill until we once again reached the Piazza. We walked east to De Gaulle Square and then back to the Baro Hotel to ask about onward transport to Bahir Dar. The manager told us that he could arrange a 4x4 jeep for the journey. He said the roads at some points were bad and that with a 4x4 we could reach Bahir Dar in one day as opposed to the two days required by public bus. We told him we'd think about it.
We walked back towards the center and decided to look into the Sheraton, cutting through a shanty town along the way. I was surprised to find the tin structures built right up along the wall of the deluxe hotel, which boasts $2,000-a-night suites. We entered the compound, walking past mini manicured gardens dotting the traffic islands. At the door, liveried doormen guided us towards the metal detectors, and soon we found ourselves surrounded by luxury. We sat in the main lobby and ordered tea and cake. A woman played a grand piano in the middle of the carpeted floor and I, having slept little on our red-eye flight, drifted off to sleep.
