An Easy Trip Was Too Good to Be True
I interrupt the description of our time at the care points to talk about our trip from Kombolcha back to Addis. What was supposed to be a quick thirty-minute flight turned out to be anything but...
Our flight was to leave Kombolcha at 9:30 this morning. Being such a small airport, we didn't leave the hotel until almost 8:15 for the quick trip. We didn't have bags to check as Tesfayeye (Tess-fie-ay), our driver had left at 5:30am with our suitcases. We only had our carry on bags.
The first sign that this was going to be a different kind of day was when we got dropped off. We had to show our passports before we could enter the terminal compound. I reached in to where I had kept the passports all week and could only find my passport. Michael's wasn't there. I frantically emptied my backback (I mean I had everything spread out on the concrete ramp.) Then I started going through my camera bag. I had put the passports in the camera bag during one of our visits so thought it might be in there. I first checked the pocket I had put it in. Nothing. Meanwhile, Michael is starting to get a little upset (understandably). I was getting a little nervous. I yelled at the van driver not to leave in case I needed to return to the hotel. I was also wondering if it had gotten put in one of the suitcases that was in the van now on its way to Addis Ababa. I started to pull the camera out and there it was. Whew. Crisis 1 averted.
Next we walk into the terminal through a security gate. All of us sail through, except for Myndi, who didn't know that someone had stuck some scissors in her bag. The monitor showed her the image on the monitor. Rather than have them confiscated, Brian agreed to check his bag so they could be put in there. Crisis 2 averted.
Then we check in. It's a long line, but moves quickly. Brian gets checked in very easily. I even remark to him, "Boy that was easy." When I get up in line, the attendant gets a brief scowl on his face and asks for my credit card. Apparently he has to confirm my credit card number. (I had received an email from Ethiopian Airlines shortly after making my reservation, asking me to send in a form to authorize my credit card purchase. Since the charges had already shown up on my account, and since I'd never seen anything like this before, and since you can never trust what shows up in email, I ignored it.) Well, apparently it was legitimate so they had to run the card that I had used to make the purchase. It was a bit of a delay, but luckily I had the card I'd used to make the purchase. Crisis 3 averted.
Rob, unfortunately, wasn't so lucky. His wife, Candy, had made the reservation so he didn't have the credit card she'd used to make the purchase. I'm not sure how they finally resolved it, but everyone eventually showed up in the waiting room. It had been so long, I peeked around the corner at one point to make sure they were still in the airport. Crisis 4 averted.
While we had been waiting for Rob, a notice popped up on my phone that our flight was delayed. We would now be leaving at 11:10. One of the employees came into the room where we were waiting and announced the delay was because of weather. First he made the announcement in Amharic, and then in English. No problem, as I'd already learned of the change and we still would have plenty of time for Brian to make his 10:30pm flight.
Thirty minutes later, a different employee comes into our room and starts speaking in Amharic. I immediately look to Abigail, our translator, to see if she shows any expression. Uh oh. She doesn't look happy.
His English announcement conveys the bad news. Because of weather, the plane to Kombolcha did not leave Addis. Our flight was cancelled and we would be rescheduled on the next flight....tomorrow.
Our group quickly convenes to discuss options. One option is for Brian to rebook his flight, we stay at Sunny Side another night, and take the flight on Sunday. The problems are that we don't know if there would be seats on the next night's flight for Brian, we don't know if the Sunny Side has any rooms available, and what happens if Sunday's flight to Addis is also cancelled?
The second option is to find a van willing to drive us eight hours to Addis. We had originally wanted to drive back to see the countryside, but had opted to fly because of the political situation here and the number of checkpoints that had reportedly been set up on the highway connecting the two cities. Abigail feels it is safe to drive, so sets about to find a ride. She finds one, so we convene outside to wait, and wait, and wait. About an hour later, a van shows up. It's a mini van, with an emphasis on the word mini. The seats are filthy and the whole vehicle smells of stale perspiration. But...we are on our way.
Time: 11:30. Time we need to be at airport: no later than 7:30. Time until Brian's flight: 11 hours.
Right before we leave the airport, two other men also get in the van. There are not enough seats for them, so they crouch in the open area next to the van door.
Speaking of the van door, the inside latch doesn't work. So the driver starts accelerating with the van door still open. Michael is sitting right next to the door so expresses some concern about the situation. Suddenly, the driver taps on the brakes. We jerk forward, but the momentum of the stop slams the door shut.
Having been in Kombolcha many times, I know the way to the highway, and the driver does not seem to be moving in the right direction. We wind through downtown Kombolcha, getting caught in a traffic jam with taxis, and trucks, and vans turned every which way. At one point, our driver gets out of the van and disappears. After a few minutes, and after the traffic has cleared he jumps back in and starts driving.
Next, he pulls into a gas station. The gas station is crowded with trucks and taxis and vans and our driver weaves through them to get to a pump. We pass precariously close to another van as he drives right past the pumps and pulls out of the gas station. Apparently, the electricity is out so the pumps can't work.
Finally, we start heading towards the highway only to pull onto a side road. The driver turns off the engine, jumps out of the van, and disappears into a house. The two men also get out and one of them jumps on top of the van and comes down with a tire. My first thought was that he was going to change one of the tires. We're really in trouble. Luckily, he carries the tire into the same house where the driver just disappeared into.
And we wait. It turns out that the man who drove us so crazily through the streets of Kombolcha is not the same man who will be driving us to Addis. There was a communication mix-up and the Addis driver had gone to the airport. We needed to wait for him. Finally, sweaty, he shows up, jumps into the driver's seat and starts the engine. Turns out they are brothers. The two, plus the man who brought the tire down from atop the bus start talking. The conversation between the two standing outside the bus becomes more heated. As we pull away, the two are yelling at each other and bumping shoulders. We drive off as the two continue their altercation behind us.
Time: 12:11. Time until Brian's flight: 10 hours.
We are finally underway. The going is slow at first because of traffic, pedestrians, animals, and speed bumps. At the airport, we'd had a discussion about what time we might get to the airport and how many check points we'd encounter. The range for check points was from zero to five. Time to the airport ranged from 4:30 until 8:00.
Five minutes into the drive, we hit the first check point. A man in a blue police uniform pulls us over and walks over to the driver (his name is Absu). Just as the officer starts talking, a man runs up, hands the officer a sheet of paper and runs off. Without another word, the officer waves us on.
Ten minutes later, we hit the second check point. This time, the woman in a similar blue police uniform motions for Abdu to get out of the van. About fifty feet behind us, the woman starts yelling at Abdu, with big had gestures. I'm not sure what she was upset about, but she went on, and on, and on. We started to worry that we were not going to be able to continue our trip and would have to wait for the next day's flight after all. Abigail eventually goes back to join the conversation. (talk to me for the activity that occurs here). She immediately releases Abdu and we continue on.
Now we're moving. Abdu appears to be trying to make up for lost time. He's weaving around slower vehicles, honking at animals and pedestrians, and generally driving very fast. Dangerously fast. There are three of us in the back seat and as the van doesn't appear to have very good shock absorbers, are having quite the amusement park ride experience as we bounce up and down. Fortunately, there is a high roof so we aren't hitting our heads.
At 1:30, we'd been driving for about 40 minutes, Abigail tells us that Abdu hadn't had breakfast or lunch and wants to stop to eat. Ten minutes later, he pulls off the road into a hotel complex with a small store, patio area with pool table, large parking lot, and landscaped courtyard. Leaving the engine running, he gets out of the driver's seat, gets into a waiting car, and leaves. Abigail explains that he parked us in a "safe place" while he went to get his lunch.
Time: 1:41
While we're waiting, several use what they describe as the smelliest bathrooms ever. We go to the store to buy water and soda. Glen, Michael, and Ty play frisbee with a small crocheted disc. The car that had whisked Abdu returns, without Abdu. We're a little concerned. And, by the way, the van is still running.
After about 40 minutes, he returns. He has bread and bananas in hand for us (Abigail had asked him to bring them) and we head off again. But, we turn the wrong way out of the parking lot. Ah...we're getting gas.
Time: 2:45. Another check point. Abdu immediately jumps out of his seat and walks back to the officer. After some undisclosed activity, we are on our way again.
Time: 3:45. We've made really good progress. There's been some rain, but nothing too serious. We've been making up time. I'm glad at this point that I wasn't sitting in the front seat as I would have had a heart attack with the number of close calls we'd had. Another checkpoint. I watch again as Abdu jumps out of the van. He shakes the officer's hand, and turns around to get back in the van. The officer puts his hand in his pocket. We continue on.
Suddenly Abdu pulls off the road. Apparently he has to pee. He disappears down over the hillside and returns a few minutes later. We're off again.
We have started to ascend into the mountain pass. The air is getting cooler, the trees are getting thicker, and road is getting windier. There are no villages, and very few animals or people. We appear to be in the middle of nowhere. But...
4:25. Another checkpoint. Same routine. Friendly handshake, officer puts something in his pocket, we continue driving. We're still passing big trucks on a highway that now has hair pin turns. We enter a long, narrow tunnel behind a truck that has a sign on the back with a sign that says "Flammable Gas". And yes, we pass the truck, in the tunnel, with a truck coming the other direction. Just in time, we get back into our own lane, in front of the gas truck.
5:33. We enter the town of Debre Birhan. It's a pretty big town. Traffic is heavy, but moving. This is usually a stopping point for us. I'm hoping that we don't stop. Time is getting tight. Suddenly, Abdu makes a sharp left turn onto a side street. We all look at each other. What's going on? Abdu makes a right, drives about a mile, makes another right, and then we're back at the highway we just exited. He makes another left and we continue on. If he was trying to take a shortcut, it doesn't seem to have saved any time. We drive past the restaurant at which we normally stop. We are on our way again.
6:07. Another checkpoint. This time the officer walks up to our vehicle, has a few words, and waves us on.
6:47. Abdu suddenly pulls off to the side of the road. I don't see any police officers. He jumps out of the van and runs across the street, holding his pants up. Ah, he needs to pee so he relieves himself on the side of the road.
Fortunately, that was our last stop. We drive into Addis, with thicker traffic, more pedestrians, and lots of noise. At one point, we are at a dead stop because of a line of buses that cross multiple lanes. We nudge past them, with what seems to be less than an inch between us.
7:47pm. We arrive at the airport. Tesfaye is waiting for us! It's so great to see him. We gather our bags, say good-bye to Brian, and board Tesfaye's bus for a relatively easy ride to the guest house.
Let's hope that's the end of our travel adventures and that we can leave Addis tonight on a jet plane bound for home.
Post note: Found out today that the driver had just driven from Addis the night before so he was tired. Abigail had to continue to prod and talk to him to keep him awake. I'm glad I didn't know that while we were driving!
Our flight was to leave Kombolcha at 9:30 this morning. Being such a small airport, we didn't leave the hotel until almost 8:15 for the quick trip. We didn't have bags to check as Tesfayeye (Tess-fie-ay), our driver had left at 5:30am with our suitcases. We only had our carry on bags.
The first sign that this was going to be a different kind of day was when we got dropped off. We had to show our passports before we could enter the terminal compound. I reached in to where I had kept the passports all week and could only find my passport. Michael's wasn't there. I frantically emptied my backback (I mean I had everything spread out on the concrete ramp.) Then I started going through my camera bag. I had put the passports in the camera bag during one of our visits so thought it might be in there. I first checked the pocket I had put it in. Nothing. Meanwhile, Michael is starting to get a little upset (understandably). I was getting a little nervous. I yelled at the van driver not to leave in case I needed to return to the hotel. I was also wondering if it had gotten put in one of the suitcases that was in the van now on its way to Addis Ababa. I started to pull the camera out and there it was. Whew. Crisis 1 averted.
Next we walk into the terminal through a security gate. All of us sail through, except for Myndi, who didn't know that someone had stuck some scissors in her bag. The monitor showed her the image on the monitor. Rather than have them confiscated, Brian agreed to check his bag so they could be put in there. Crisis 2 averted.
Then we check in. It's a long line, but moves quickly. Brian gets checked in very easily. I even remark to him, "Boy that was easy." When I get up in line, the attendant gets a brief scowl on his face and asks for my credit card. Apparently he has to confirm my credit card number. (I had received an email from Ethiopian Airlines shortly after making my reservation, asking me to send in a form to authorize my credit card purchase. Since the charges had already shown up on my account, and since I'd never seen anything like this before, and since you can never trust what shows up in email, I ignored it.) Well, apparently it was legitimate so they had to run the card that I had used to make the purchase. It was a bit of a delay, but luckily I had the card I'd used to make the purchase. Crisis 3 averted.
Rob, unfortunately, wasn't so lucky. His wife, Candy, had made the reservation so he didn't have the credit card she'd used to make the purchase. I'm not sure how they finally resolved it, but everyone eventually showed up in the waiting room. It had been so long, I peeked around the corner at one point to make sure they were still in the airport. Crisis 4 averted.
While we had been waiting for Rob, a notice popped up on my phone that our flight was delayed. We would now be leaving at 11:10. One of the employees came into the room where we were waiting and announced the delay was because of weather. First he made the announcement in Amharic, and then in English. No problem, as I'd already learned of the change and we still would have plenty of time for Brian to make his 10:30pm flight.
Thirty minutes later, a different employee comes into our room and starts speaking in Amharic. I immediately look to Abigail, our translator, to see if she shows any expression. Uh oh. She doesn't look happy.
His English announcement conveys the bad news. Because of weather, the plane to Kombolcha did not leave Addis. Our flight was cancelled and we would be rescheduled on the next flight....tomorrow.
Our group quickly convenes to discuss options. One option is for Brian to rebook his flight, we stay at Sunny Side another night, and take the flight on Sunday. The problems are that we don't know if there would be seats on the next night's flight for Brian, we don't know if the Sunny Side has any rooms available, and what happens if Sunday's flight to Addis is also cancelled?
The second option is to find a van willing to drive us eight hours to Addis. We had originally wanted to drive back to see the countryside, but had opted to fly because of the political situation here and the number of checkpoints that had reportedly been set up on the highway connecting the two cities. Abigail feels it is safe to drive, so sets about to find a ride. She finds one, so we convene outside to wait, and wait, and wait. About an hour later, a van shows up. It's a mini van, with an emphasis on the word mini. The seats are filthy and the whole vehicle smells of stale perspiration. But...we are on our way.
Time: 11:30. Time we need to be at airport: no later than 7:30. Time until Brian's flight: 11 hours.
Right before we leave the airport, two other men also get in the van. There are not enough seats for them, so they crouch in the open area next to the van door.
Speaking of the van door, the inside latch doesn't work. So the driver starts accelerating with the van door still open. Michael is sitting right next to the door so expresses some concern about the situation. Suddenly, the driver taps on the brakes. We jerk forward, but the momentum of the stop slams the door shut.
Having been in Kombolcha many times, I know the way to the highway, and the driver does not seem to be moving in the right direction. We wind through downtown Kombolcha, getting caught in a traffic jam with taxis, and trucks, and vans turned every which way. At one point, our driver gets out of the van and disappears. After a few minutes, and after the traffic has cleared he jumps back in and starts driving.
Next, he pulls into a gas station. The gas station is crowded with trucks and taxis and vans and our driver weaves through them to get to a pump. We pass precariously close to another van as he drives right past the pumps and pulls out of the gas station. Apparently, the electricity is out so the pumps can't work.
Finally, we start heading towards the highway only to pull onto a side road. The driver turns off the engine, jumps out of the van, and disappears into a house. The two men also get out and one of them jumps on top of the van and comes down with a tire. My first thought was that he was going to change one of the tires. We're really in trouble. Luckily, he carries the tire into the same house where the driver just disappeared into.
And we wait. It turns out that the man who drove us so crazily through the streets of Kombolcha is not the same man who will be driving us to Addis. There was a communication mix-up and the Addis driver had gone to the airport. We needed to wait for him. Finally, sweaty, he shows up, jumps into the driver's seat and starts the engine. Turns out they are brothers. The two, plus the man who brought the tire down from atop the bus start talking. The conversation between the two standing outside the bus becomes more heated. As we pull away, the two are yelling at each other and bumping shoulders. We drive off as the two continue their altercation behind us.
Time: 12:11. Time until Brian's flight: 10 hours.
We are finally underway. The going is slow at first because of traffic, pedestrians, animals, and speed bumps. At the airport, we'd had a discussion about what time we might get to the airport and how many check points we'd encounter. The range for check points was from zero to five. Time to the airport ranged from 4:30 until 8:00.
Five minutes into the drive, we hit the first check point. A man in a blue police uniform pulls us over and walks over to the driver (his name is Absu). Just as the officer starts talking, a man runs up, hands the officer a sheet of paper and runs off. Without another word, the officer waves us on.
Ten minutes later, we hit the second check point. This time, the woman in a similar blue police uniform motions for Abdu to get out of the van. About fifty feet behind us, the woman starts yelling at Abdu, with big had gestures. I'm not sure what she was upset about, but she went on, and on, and on. We started to worry that we were not going to be able to continue our trip and would have to wait for the next day's flight after all. Abigail eventually goes back to join the conversation. (talk to me for the activity that occurs here). She immediately releases Abdu and we continue on.
Now we're moving. Abdu appears to be trying to make up for lost time. He's weaving around slower vehicles, honking at animals and pedestrians, and generally driving very fast. Dangerously fast. There are three of us in the back seat and as the van doesn't appear to have very good shock absorbers, are having quite the amusement park ride experience as we bounce up and down. Fortunately, there is a high roof so we aren't hitting our heads.
At 1:30, we'd been driving for about 40 minutes, Abigail tells us that Abdu hadn't had breakfast or lunch and wants to stop to eat. Ten minutes later, he pulls off the road into a hotel complex with a small store, patio area with pool table, large parking lot, and landscaped courtyard. Leaving the engine running, he gets out of the driver's seat, gets into a waiting car, and leaves. Abigail explains that he parked us in a "safe place" while he went to get his lunch.
Time: 1:41
While we're waiting, several use what they describe as the smelliest bathrooms ever. We go to the store to buy water and soda. Glen, Michael, and Ty play frisbee with a small crocheted disc. The car that had whisked Abdu returns, without Abdu. We're a little concerned. And, by the way, the van is still running.
After about 40 minutes, he returns. He has bread and bananas in hand for us (Abigail had asked him to bring them) and we head off again. But, we turn the wrong way out of the parking lot. Ah...we're getting gas.
Time: 2:45. Another check point. Abdu immediately jumps out of his seat and walks back to the officer. After some undisclosed activity, we are on our way again.
Time: 3:45. We've made really good progress. There's been some rain, but nothing too serious. We've been making up time. I'm glad at this point that I wasn't sitting in the front seat as I would have had a heart attack with the number of close calls we'd had. Another checkpoint. I watch again as Abdu jumps out of the van. He shakes the officer's hand, and turns around to get back in the van. The officer puts his hand in his pocket. We continue on.
Suddenly Abdu pulls off the road. Apparently he has to pee. He disappears down over the hillside and returns a few minutes later. We're off again.
We have started to ascend into the mountain pass. The air is getting cooler, the trees are getting thicker, and road is getting windier. There are no villages, and very few animals or people. We appear to be in the middle of nowhere. But...
4:25. Another checkpoint. Same routine. Friendly handshake, officer puts something in his pocket, we continue driving. We're still passing big trucks on a highway that now has hair pin turns. We enter a long, narrow tunnel behind a truck that has a sign on the back with a sign that says "Flammable Gas". And yes, we pass the truck, in the tunnel, with a truck coming the other direction. Just in time, we get back into our own lane, in front of the gas truck.
5:33. We enter the town of Debre Birhan. It's a pretty big town. Traffic is heavy, but moving. This is usually a stopping point for us. I'm hoping that we don't stop. Time is getting tight. Suddenly, Abdu makes a sharp left turn onto a side street. We all look at each other. What's going on? Abdu makes a right, drives about a mile, makes another right, and then we're back at the highway we just exited. He makes another left and we continue on. If he was trying to take a shortcut, it doesn't seem to have saved any time. We drive past the restaurant at which we normally stop. We are on our way again.
6:07. Another checkpoint. This time the officer walks up to our vehicle, has a few words, and waves us on.
6:47. Abdu suddenly pulls off to the side of the road. I don't see any police officers. He jumps out of the van and runs across the street, holding his pants up. Ah, he needs to pee so he relieves himself on the side of the road.
Fortunately, that was our last stop. We drive into Addis, with thicker traffic, more pedestrians, and lots of noise. At one point, we are at a dead stop because of a line of buses that cross multiple lanes. We nudge past them, with what seems to be less than an inch between us.
7:47pm. We arrive at the airport. Tesfaye is waiting for us! It's so great to see him. We gather our bags, say good-bye to Brian, and board Tesfaye's bus for a relatively easy ride to the guest house.
Let's hope that's the end of our travel adventures and that we can leave Addis tonight on a jet plane bound for home.
Post note: Found out today that the driver had just driven from Addis the night before so he was tired. Abigail had to continue to prod and talk to him to keep him awake. I'm glad I didn't know that while we were driving!
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