Totally Unauthorized

I’m here. Addis Ababa. Took forever, but it should be worth it. I spent Tuesday in Madrid–8 hour layover. So I checked my bags and took the Metro into town. At first, I thought I’d be cultural and go see the Prado and Reine Sophia. But when I got in front of the museum all I wanted to do was lay down on a bench and take a nap. Japanese tourists are the same the world over. There in front of the Prado is a statue of Velasquez.  Sure enough, there was a group of 30, each one of whom had to have a photo of themselves with Velasquez.  Despite the fact that it was high noon and the photos will be dreadful, they will all have one.

More walking.  Madrid is made for walking and people watching.  I notice more women wearing headscarves all the time. Back to the airport.

Iberia to Cairo–their idea of business class is to say it’s business class, the seats are the same as coach, but they don’t sell the middle one.  Better than nothing, and the drinks are free.

Landing in Cairo.  Old fashioned airport–no jetwalks.  The plane parks out on the tarmac and you take a bus to the terminal.  Now the fun starts.

I get to immigration, and they want me to buy a visa.  I tell them I’m just in transit, leaving in 5 hours.  So they send me to the transit lounge.

The guy in transit assures me that they will get my luggage and transfer it.  I tried to check it all the way through to ADD from home, but that was impossible.

Five hours waiting in a FREEZING (yes I was thinking of Judy Timmons) waiting room.  I’m in bloody Cairo, on the edge of the Sahara desert, and shivering.  There is something wrong with this picture.

I wander around.  See a couple of women completely veiled.  McDonalds and Cinnabon in the airport.  I have a nutella crepe, which is darned good and the service (at 2:oo am) is impeccable.  Able to pay with Euros, which I picked up in Madrid.

Board Ethiopian Air for Khartoum and Addis.  It’s fairly crowded, but I manage to move to an  exit row seat on the aisle.  Ethiopian is one of the more respected of the non-mainstream airlines.  There is television–I don’t bother with the headsets, but I’ve seen those episodes of Everyone Loves Raymond and Two and a half  Men.  If this is what the world see of the US, no wonder they think we’re idiots.

Land in Khartoum, but don’t have to get off the plane.  Most of the passengers exit, they clean the place up and another group boards.  I still score an exit row seat.

The pilot announces we are 3rd in line for takeoff, about 10 minutes.  At home, 3rd in line is 90 seconds.  After 15 minutes, we start to move.  I find out what takes so long–the taxiway is not large enough for a full size jet, so we have to taxi the full length of the runway, then turn around and take off.

I notice a number of jets and large propeller planes apparently mothballed on the side of the airport.  It always makes we wonder how much money was lost in what kind of venture that led to such a pathetic end for fine flying machines.

Finally, Addis.  I have to buy a visa–$20 US.  You see one man who starts the forms, then passes you on to his colleague who process the cash and writes you a receipt, in triplicate, with carbon paper.  Can you even buy carbon paper in the US anymore?

Luggage.  Nope.  It turns out that American didn’t get it to Iberia in Madrid.  We get it all figured out and they promise it will be on the plane today.  I’m not holding my breath.

Eric meets me.  We head out to buy a few necessaries until the luggage arrives.  Cannot buy contact lens solution.  Only one place even has lens cases, and they will not sell me any solution because they need it for their own clients.  I’ll use bottled water.

We find socks and underwear and t-shirts.  I’m  set.

Go back to Mr. Martin’s Cozy Cabins, our Ethiopian pied a terre .  The Sheraton, it ain’t.  But the sheets are clean, and every guest gets his very own roll of TP.  I crash for 8 hours.

Eric goes to the airport and collects Charlotte, his wife.  I wake up, and we walk up the street for dinner.   Many little “bars” with lots of friendly, very friendly, women standing in front.  We have a plate of shiro, a chick pea stew served on injera, the local bread which is much like a wet washcloth.  It isn’t my new favorite food, but I enjoyed it.

Slept another 8 hours.  Now I feel great.  Went to the airport and picked up Shannon and Shauna, our other volunteers.  They dropped me off at an internet cafe, and here I am.

We have our first workshop this afternoon.  More to come.