This 2011 post discomfits me a little to select as a flashback. There are several cringe-worthy opinions I expressed during my two-month solo trip to Ethiopia.
They are cringe-worthy, for one, because I could have been just listening instead of talking. Learning something new instead of talking about things I really don't know enough about. Like, really, sex work in Ethiopia versus in the US? On what basis of actual facts did I have to render my judgement? Answer: None.
After I left Ethiopia, I thought back to my gossipy inanities about how most Ethiopian restaurants shared the same menu. .... Um, like the US is
so different? Not really.
Oh, I've committed many, many cringe-worthy crimelets in my life, both domestic and abroad. I have
no regret, however, about my campaign to wipe out the ubiquitous and obnoxious "
you, you, you!" that young boys call out to tourists in Awassa.
The reason I selected this post for a flashback was because something reminded me of walking through a leafy expanse at the resort, along a narrow dirt footpath, alone, and where the blue-balled vervets began to gather, one by one, then by twos, .....
Ethiopia: Hippos and Lunch, Part 2, Awassa, Day 8, Monday
An afternoon storm began rolling in, darkening the sky, chilling the air, whipping up some wavelets and a breeze around us.
H. and I talked about how even extended travel in one country only
scratches the surface in regard to an accurate understanding of a
people's customs. (Heck, that's the case in one's own country of origin,
too.) For example, we discussed the yawning holes ('tourist traps') in
Ethiopian pavement that can swallow several humans at once. I said that
most foreign tourists likely have the resources to get medical
attention, whereas the typical Ethiopian does not, and such a fall could
spell disaster for a family. H. suggested that it is worse for a
foreigner to fall in the hole because s/he will share this experience
with everyone back home (ahem), with a potential loss in future tourism.
H. said that if an Ethiopian falls in said hole that people will donate
money to ensure s/he gets proper care.
H. disdained my empathy for the young men in Shashamene, expressing his
belief that most could find something profitable to do if they wished,
but too many chewed chat all day.
We agreed the system of prostitution in Ethiopia was probably better
than in the U.S. One huge advantage is that most Ethiopian prostitutes
are their own boss, unlike many American prostitutes (assuming my
vicarious-by-way-of-media information is correct) who work for pimps.
Relatively speaking, Ethiopian prostitutes make good money, which is
nothing to be sneered at here. Finally, Ethiopian prostitutes enjoy more
respect here than their American counterparts in the U.S. According to
H., prostitution is legal in Ethiopia, but evidently taxes are not
assessed on this service. Of course, the only Ethiopians I've heard from
on this topic are men; I'd be interested in women's views.
Eventually, it was time for me to leave this beautiful spot by the lake.
First, I departed via a field within the resort. It was so funny - like
a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's, The Birds. Some monkeys in trees, then
some in the grass, then one and two following me on the path. They
gathered .... I did pick up a stick .... just in case ....
I wended my way out of the resort and down the cobblestone streets
toward the town center. The restorative rain made everything mistily
lush and fertile. When I walked under a tree occupied by storks, the
wetness brought all of their bio smells to the forefront, making for an
intense storky aroma. Not particularly pleasant. As usual, I stopped
every once in awhile to just gawk at these immense birds. From certain
angles, they looked like giant, uncomfortable penguins.
Later had dinner (spaghetti with meat sauce) at a brand-new place; it
was so bland as to be irritating. Which, by the way, reminds me of an
earlier conversation that H. and I had. We agreed that almost every
Ethiopian restaurant in the country has the identical menu! It's like,
what the hell?!
And here it is, for the most part:
* Egg sandwich
* Normal omelette
* Special omelette
* Toast, jam (always the exact same kind of jam), butter
* Juice
* Fried egg
* Oats (or porridge)
* Hamburger
* Cheeseburger
* Special burger (often with egg on top, when I've asked)
* Pasta with meat
* Pasta with tomato sauce (no meat)
* Pasta with vegetables
* And then the same 10 or so "traditional" Ethiopian dishes that cover the breakfast, lunch, and dinner times
And there you have it!
H.'s theory is that the cooks/chefs in the country simply do not want to cook outside the box.
If I were to open a restaurant in Ethiopia, I'd call it Something
Different. I wouldn't call it Unique, because there are restaurants
called Unique in many Ethiopian towns, and they, too, serve the same
menu as everyone else.
Did I mention that I've been working a one-woman campaign in Awasa to stamp out calls of "You! You!"? Vacations. Such hard work.
Despite the above, Awasa is a beautiful city. For the most part, too, people here are very friendly and helpful.
