Ethiopia

From my taxi window the dark streets of Addis Ababa looked grotty, dangerous and exciting.

Like everywhere I had been to in Africa so far the extent of my research on Addis before I actually got there went only as far as a quick scan in Wikipedia and the introduction in the Lonely Planet. All that I did know was that Addis was home to approximately 4 million people, one-fifth of the entire population of Australia (the thought of that horrified me!), and that it was known as the ‘New York of Africa’.

Just like New York the streets were bustling, the roads were congested; mostly with taxis, the neon lights were dizzying. It was a balmy night and although the city sprawled I could see and feel how densely overpopulated it was.

Unlike New York, Addis did not seem finished to me. Every second building was under construction, entire streets were blocked off because the roads had been dug-up and seemingly abandoned. It looked as though a royal family was trying to move into a shanty town: beside three and ten-story high modern glass buildings were small shacks made of scrap pieces of cardboard and plastic; in front of the glow from fashion shops selling big western brands closed for the night were women and their children settling in to sleep on a piece of cardboard or a single blanket. Music leaked from the millions of bars and restaurants jammed side-by-side fighting for space in the over-stuffed streets.

I went straight to my hotel room, and sat in a lime-green and bright orange room with tacky old furniture, peeling paint and sticky-taped floors. I took one of the mini bottles of wine I had lifted off the drinks cart on the aeroplane when no-one was looking and made a toast:

“To surviving West Africa and thriving in Southern Africa, I now begin the last leg of my journey. May it be full of good times, good lessons and beauty in nature and in its people. May I experience a rich culture, eat good food, live in the moment more and stop missing home.”

Well, it went something like that anyway.