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Ethiopia/Uganda/Rawada Trip

 

October 5-25, 2010

TUESDAY, 10/5/10: Shut down everything according to "last list," and the phone rings at 8:35AM when I'm in the process of changing from my "house" to my "flight" clothes. I put last things into suitcase, jam it closed, and get onto the elevator at 8:39. Ken said there was NO traffic on the way here, and congratulated the building on having its scaffolding removed. Little traffic on Atlantic Avenue, even, getting to the airport at 9:24, paying the driver $72 when he verified the trip was $66. Bags tagged at 9:29, and luggage taken at 9:38, again short lines. Drink more water for mefloquine from a fountain, filling my bottle before going through inspection, and having to drink that, too. Through EMPTY security by 9:50, apparently very few people on this flight, though I see bags marked for through traffic to Johannesburg, Colombo, and Mumbai. Shoes off, computer into tray with jacket, keys, and change, and then put everything, including jacket, into shoulder bag. Get to Gate 6 to see the Emirates plane sitting at the gate, and Ken goes to buy his "last apple of the trip," biting noisily into it as he sits next to me and I type to 10:04, boarding stated on the pass for 10:20, day going quickly! Announced 11:42 flying time. Board 10:42, more people than seemed to have been waiting in departure lounge, and MANY screaming kids, including a particularly whiny Black in the middle section of the row just behind me, but thankfully no one else is in the two seats between me and the aisle, the seat being nicely behind the wing and the stewards being handsome (two from Argentina, one from Brazil) and attentive, as was the stewardess, who brought me a Times that I hadn't seen at the entrance when I picked up a Post and a USA Today. Pee at 10:52 in the wood-paneled john, of which there is only one in the rear section. Back out at 11:12, having seen there was nothing of interest in the Emirates magazine, but there was a good (chronological) selection of music as well as a number of films, though none of surpassing interest. Menu for two meals handed out. Off at 11:26, into clouds over Long Island and Connecticut. #4 and #5 of bridge to Prince George Island over clear-aired Canada, with lots of flat farms and little communities in the afternoon sunlight. #6 of Charlottetown from the good sequence of four air-flight maps: one a diagram, another usually ads, a third from the pilot's view, a fourth, often only clouds, from the bottom of the plane, a good idea. #7 of Newfoundland southern coast, one of whose inlets is probably La Poile, which doesn't interest Ken when I told him I'd been there less than a year ago: it all looks totally barren and unoccupied from the air. Up the coast of Labrador, sadly not over L'Anse aux Meadows. Finish a decent lunch of lamb masala, started with salmon over rice, WITH rice and okra with a slice of VERY hot red pepper, and lots of apple juice, passing up the free wines. Do Tuesday's easy Times puzzle, shit at 1:40, kid SCREAMING, to 3:36 as I finish the other puzzles I tore from the other papers. Dark outside, time to try to sleep. Take TWO Ambien at 4:05, but kid keeps fussing and plane starts bumping in turbulence over ocean, seatbelts on at 4:45 with real roughness, though I'm calm, and look out to see lights on in 11PM towns in England below. Decide I'm not sleeping, so start watching Twilight: Eclipse, but though Pattison has a great face and profile and eyes, and the other guy is shirtless most of the time, the plot seems to have no tension or interest. Try watching Prince of Persia (not very interesting either), and what I note as Shelter Island (of which I can't think of the real name [Shutter Island], again not worth watching), look out at lights and at maps, no sign of fatigue. #8 Kirkuk on the map, an odd series of rectangles which can only be streets, and since the map doesn't say, I simply can't recall whether it's Iran or Iraq we're flying over with its spots of, I guess, blazing oil wells which don't photograph very well, as doesn't the lower-fingernail-crescent moon both below and then above the plane's wing in the reddening sunrise at 8:56. #11 of what may be Bagdad at 9:02, and fires and moon to 9:19, hoping they're recorded on the photos [which recording seems to have disappeared, annoyingly, the next evening]. "Dinner," with my dinner pills, is served at 11PM, of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes and more apple juice, and I decide to switch to the next day.

WEDNESDAY, 10/6/10: Change watch to 6:11AM, light out but clouds below. Get out sudoku book at 6:30AM and land at 7:01, no real sight of Dubai, and no immigration card to fill out. So it was an 11:45 flight. Plane stops at dock at 7:09 and long wait to get off at 7:21. Short line to passport check at 7:38, get my bag at 7:46, few on the carousel, but sit while Ken and a helpful hostess who met him at the Marhaba desk wait for his bag, which never comes out. They go to register its loss and we walk through HUGE terminal [actually found on 11/13 that this is the single largest building in world by floor space], I taking a picture of its cascading waterfall down one wall in back of a phalanx of rising and falling elevators, ceilings coated with distorting mirrors that are more decorative elements than reflectors of images. I change $66 US for a $2.50 charge at 8:36, and get 191 dirham, so it's about 3D to $1. Our CAR seems to be lost, too, but into car from another Marhaba office with our main-man guide at 8:51. [Breakfast tomorrow before our tour of Abu Dhabi is at 6AM!] We're driven to "Four Points by Sheraton," which name isn't explained, and though Ken pooh-poohs my idea of having the Abu Dhabi tour AND the Emirates tour, the guide suggests that our driver can take me on an Emirates tour while Ken sits in the hotel at 9:10 and waits behind another few people who are waiting for their rooms to be ready. I try to talk Ken into coming along, but he says he's simply too tired and wouldn't enjoy it, and he later says he only had to wait an hour for the room, but then he had to buy supplies, fearing his bag wouldn't show up and HE'D HAVE TO CANCEL THE REST OF THIS TOUR, which could have panicked me, but I assumed they would find his bag, and they did, telling him when HE called THEM at 4PM, to be told they'd deliver it to the hotel by 6PM, never mentioning why it had gone astray and why they hadn't bothered to call HIM when they found it! I'm told on the phone, passed back and forth between the driver and someone at some office, that my tour will be $200, will start at 11AM and last until 5:30 or 6 or 6:30PM, at which time I'll join Ken for an early dinner and an early bed to make up for not sleeping the previous night and having to get up for a 6AM breakfast. We leave in the car, Amin (?) and I, at 9:20, and I can only check my suitcase in the storage room and take my heavy shoulder bag with me, digging out my sun hat against the intense heat of the day, though 99% of the time is spent in the air-conditioned van with Amin giving a steady stream of information, answers to my questions, and comments about the government, electricity, relations with Oman, and some of our private lives: my never being married, his two daughters, our travels to Nepal and Sri Lanka, his view of the sunrise and sunset on Everest, etc. At 10AM we LEAVE Dubai for the immediate neighbor of Sharjah, not as new or elegant as Dubai, where everything old was either torn down or resurfaced in stone and glass for an appearance of totally modern sleekness and richness, even though the US economic crisis forced Dubai into a severe depression in which it had to be saved by its richer neighbor of Abu Dhabi, causing the Burj Dubai to be ignominiously renamed the Burj Khalifa. He assures me the view from the top will be clear tomorrow, or the day after [I never REALLY understood which day would be the tour of Dubai and which of Abu Dhabi, since on Friday EVERYTHING would be closed, as Ken made clear that evening on the phone with our main man: why would we want to see the OUTSIDES of two famous museums and a mosque, when we could go early some OTHER morning, paid by Bestway, and see them when they're OPEN?] We move from Ajman into Umm al-Qaiwain at 10:40AM, and into Ras al-Khaimah at 11:30, and back to the hotel at 2:40PM, I having refused Amin's offer of a small museum that he said wasn't that interesting, and a trip to the surprisingly high and desolate mountains dimly visible in the afternoon smog, saying that I WAS getting tired, my eyes were closing, and I was even starting to get hungry for SOME kind of lunch. I try to take pictures of signs to show where we are and when, and will rely on the photo imprints to say which shots were in which Emirate, based on the times recorded above. I keep saying how glad I am to take the tour: the chance to see how the "ordinary" people live: the princes and rich in extraordinary walled villas, sometimes in pairs or groups or three or four, or even Florida-like gated communities; the less-wealthy in old-type houses out of the tourist area, with their streets of shops with colorful facades, as opposed to the mainly white or tan buildings of the "old" areas. Many ethnic areas: Omanis, a section that seemed to be known as Manama, which I remember from stamps, and other areas like Deira, Moustaffa-something, and other names that are present on a great map of the peninsula that Amin shows me and I hope to get a copy of, because it explains why the trip BACK is so long: we had gone a long way east in the large area of Ras al-Khaimah that extends to the tiny enclave of Oman at the very tip. Amin says there might be conflict in the future as Oman, rich with oil, tries to chip away at some of the nearer outskirts of the Emirates; he doesn't respond to my remark that the intervening area seemed to be nothing but desert---maybe there are oil fields underneath that make the desert desirable. I think maybe we can return about 1:30PM, since I'd seen what I wanted of the four added Emirates on the tour, Fujairah being too far to the south to be included, but we keep driving through rolling dunes, which Amin extols as being very beautiful and of many colors, which indeed they are: tan, brown, grayish, even pink, and we even manage to find some of the camels he said would be plentiful: first in camps for tourists to ride, then even a few wild on the ROAD side of the strange vertically barred fences that are intended to keep the wild ones off the roads, where they can undoubtedly cause dreadful accidents if hit by cars smaller than they are. We always seem quite far from the sea, though we do pass through an area, in one of the Emirates, of a number of "water resorts," and the extraordinary "Ice Land" that promises to be enormous and wonderfully expensive, where I take shots of the "world's largest man-made waterfall" and tacky plaster penguins cavorting on the "icy" slopes of the artificial Alp. VERY hot out of the car, and the air-conditioning coolth vanishes surprisingly quickly when he chats with the guards at the Ice Land. He stops at a shop for something, asks if I want water, but I have my bottle in my shoulder bag, and he pulls into one gas station with an enormous line of cars, there for some reason, while other stations look almost unmanned in their emptiness. He chats with the attendant, who has to go back to the office to get a bill that is needed for change. He keeps saying how much I should praise his guiding, and I wonder if my tour, which should end at 6 but ended at 2:40, will be LESS than the quoted $200. And Ken SHOULD have come along to share the experience. Meet him at the desk, where I pick up my key and leave off my shoulder bag, and then down to the restaurant, where all the sandwiches are 40+D, so I order the lasagna and salad and onion bread for 48D (though I thought it was slightly cheaper), and we talk of our days; he has a Long Island iced tea for 42D, my half-liter Perrier is 17D (!) and when I complain that I hadn't gotten a salad, and three of the personnel discuss it, they give me a 4.8D discount on my bill, which I sign for, for 100+D on our room 516 bill. Get to room at 2:47, lunch to 4, lay down to rest until 6PM, when Ken's bag arrives and he decides to have only fruit, and I don't need anything more, and I unpack to 6:54 (while Ken complains, put away bathroom stuff, shit, and go to bed at 7:16PM, getting to sleep quickly. 8:55PM: Type DREAMS:10/6/10, but only after starting to get up and seeing Ken looking for something at the night table. I tell him he can put the light on, but he says, "That's OK," and continues to rummage. I ask if he's going to go to the john, since I want to type my dream, and I think he says something indecisive, but then he says "Yes," goes to the john, and THEN I can get my Neo, drop the glasses from it, and come in to type the dream and then this, to 8:57PM, having clarified that the wake-up call is for 5:45AM.

THURSDAY, 10/7/10: 12:53AM: Wake and type DREAMS:10/7/10, pee, and have to wipe pee from floor at 1:01AM! DAMN! Pee at 3:43AM. Up at 4:36 because I've slept close to 9 hours and feel like doing something useful, like transcribing notes before another day clouds the memory of the memorable first day in the Emirates. At 5:25AM Ken turns on the bright light in the bathroom, trying to find how to turn on ANY lights, constantly complaining about the "odd construction" of the room: the way the closet opens right onto the luggage rack; I complain about the 20%-only amount of drawer space in the glass-topped console on which I'm now typing, bolstered in the swivel chair by the duvet I took off my bed last night in order to sleep only under the sheet in the nicely air-conditioned room. I continue typing until the wake-up call comes at 5:49AM on my watch, Ken having taken what he calls a "much-needed" shower, and I finish this up-to-date, happily, at 5:50, ready to dress for breakfast. Down at 6 to a perfectly dark room, with a sign saying that it opens at 6:30, but when I tell the fellow that we were told we could start at 6AM, they seat us at a dark table, from which we move to a lighter table by the buffet, and it turns out that the fruit, cold cuts, breads and rolls and cakes, and even the steam tables are totally ready, so I have a GREAT breakfast of hot chocolate, yellow and red orange sections, scrambled eggs, a decent samosa that Ken loves, turkey strips masquerading as bacon, and a good chocolate, nut-and-fruit-filled bread, and a good golden bread with raisins, and "marrow," which turns out to be zucchini-like, and a reasonably soft piece of cantaloupe. Ken leaves early to phone Rajeev, who does just what Ken wants for the rest of our tours, and my guide yesterday was Hamid, not Amin, and we get him as a driver and a woman as a guide to Abu Dhabi, which Charley will NOT be doing, as he arrives only sometime today, and may meet us for dinner, or for tomorrow's tour. It gets light out about 6:15AM, they turn the breakfast room's lights on bright at 6:30 (when other English-speakers arrive, along with two female truck-driver types), and I finish very satisfactorily at 6:40. Get up to finish this at 6:53, annoyed only by my glasses hurting the right side of my nose. AND have to dig out the camera book to find how to register my picture numbers AS I take them. Turns out I didn't BRING my camera book, though I may just not have found it. But then I hit "display" and the dates and times start appearing! Car is waiting for us outside, and we leave at 7:05, with Hamid driving us to the OTHER Four Points by Sheraton (we're at Bank Street---nicknamed for all the banks on the street) on some other street, to pick up Tony, our guide for the day in Abu Dhabi. We start off at 7:10, very foggy, to the Sheik Zayed Mosque for many shots until #159 of the 99 names of Allah---like Ali, Akbar, Marjjuan, Mustapha, and all other Muslim male names. The mosque was started in 1996 and is still under construction. The enormous chandeliers are from Germany, containing a million Swarovski crystals, over a 7000-square-meter rug, constructed by 1025 weavers on the spot, for a building that holds up to 40,000 people. This is the third-largest mosque (after those at Mecca and Tangier), taking 3.2 billion dirham to build. Pee at mosque in the basement down an escalator, taking shots of the Villeroy and Bosch enamel slot-in-the-floor. Out of the mosque in the enormous heat at 9:43, and to car at 9:56. 10:25 to the Falcon Hospital, Ken not seeing the two falcons sitting with their turbaned owners in the waiting room, and into the hospital with over two dozen hooded falcons waiting to be tended, mostly for clipping the claws and trimming the beak (though I watch someone gluing a broken wing back together), and then we're shown a phalanx of drawers filled with wings of various colors, lengths, and shapes, being told that the match has to be precise or the birds won't be accepted by other birds. Falcons used to find only their own food, then were trained for finding food for their humans. They migrate here from Croatia or Russia/China. People owned 50,000 of them last year. Wild falcons in desert are protected. Huge INDUSTRY takes place among the royals and the very rich for weeks. To the rest house at 12:11 for a mediocre museum, and then to the dining room for a buffet of beef in various forms, veggies, and soda and water, with a pleasant waiter pulling us up out of our low benches against the wall on mats crawling with ants---not to mention the roach Ken smashed into the rug with his shoe. We have lunch 12:25-12:55 and leave at 1:08. To Traditional Village 2:15-2:35, blisteringly hot, with a wild rabbit, an immobile black cat, a sleeping tabby on the path, and a man possibly on a john when I opened a door that was unlocked but had no sign. Took picture after picture, up near 200 for the day, but I'd taken 96 yesterday. At last a good dagger in the tiny museum, and what Ken says are VERY rare US coins. Take a photo of the theater under the 133-meter-high Emirates flag before #251 on Saadiyat Island, going toward Yas Island, and passing the Ferrari pavilion, where Tony says the roller coaster isn't working yet, but as I look, a tiny coaster is being pulled up the first hill, passengers silhouetted against the sky. The first drop isn't particularly steep, but it IS supposed to be the fastest in the world, and they won't stop to let me ride it! The islands are actually natural, since Abu Dhabi started with about 200 of them in mangrove marshes, and Abu Dhabi means "father of the deer," since the founder chased a deer until he found the cave in which the creature lived. #271 is the 1977 first Dubai high-rise: which they still call the "World Trade Center"! It has only 38 floors. To hotel at 4:47 and collapse exhausted after taking off shoes and socks and pants, and Ken gets a call from Rajeev just at 6:06 as Ken is in the bathroom. Later take shirt off, and become cold, but Ken insists the room is hot already, so I put on my black sweater to lie until 6:36, when I pee and dress for dinner. Down to a taxi at 7:04, having to cross the street, per Ken, to go in the right direction for the Shabistan Iranian dinner across the Dubai Creek. Go there from 7:04-7:16, for a 14.5 meter-reading, for which I give 15D. The starting yogurt and salad are great, the pomegranate-flavored chicken breast is tender, and the shish kebab is served in two long strips with more rice in addition to what we have on the plate. I order a small Emirates water for 12D and Ken has a mint non-alcoholic drink for 30D, but I pay the bill and mark it on my list. Out at 8:41 to cross the street, which we think is wise, until it proves to be stupid: no empty taxis cruise this waterfront business-free sidewalk. Finally cross back in front of the Renaissance Blu and snag a cab with a cute driver who lets us off at 14.5D a few steps from the hotel, where we seem to be caught in a traffic jam, which then, of course, moves after we get out. To hotel at 9:15, get word that we can order breakfast from room service on Sunday at 5:15AM, and that Charles Gilroy HAS arrived. Ken calls him and he doesn't want to join us for lunch at Burj al-Arab, but will come along to the museums on Saturday. Ken fusses with the phone buttons, leaves a wake-up call for 7:30, and sits to read while I finish this from 9:25-10:04, eyes actually CLOSING with fatigue. Thirsty, but bed quickly at 10:14, then get up to find (to my horror) that I did NOT bring my second camera disk.

FRIDAY, 10/8/10: Pee and shit at 4:08AM. Lie awake, thinking, thinking, thinking: have to be SPARE with photos and SPARE with tips (everything HERE is so expensive, and they charge for everything they can. Ken says they'll be totally unwilling to reduce the $200 for a SEVEN-hour tour just because I, personally, wanted to return early and had only a FOUR-hour tour). I also include side trips in my thinking. Look at the clock at 5:32AM, then try at odd times to start Actualism, but never really get into it, though I must sleep part of the time because Ken jolts me awake by turning on the lights at 7:31AM and going into the bathroom just before the phone rings at 7:32AM. I'm up to type this while he shaves and I hold in my urge to urinate, knowing that I have to get out clean socks and shorts for the first time after I shower this morning. Also remembered, last night, to find my four spare camera batteries and put them into my bag to make sure my power doesn't run out. Decide on many slides to delete to increase my future photo-taking, and can even, if need be, delete the space-consuming movies taken at the Falcon Hospital, since they weren't a VITAL part of this Journey to Diversity [this is the name given to this tour]: get the idea that my show will be a quick survey OF that diversity, showing maybe only one or two slides of each locale and activity, keeping the trip down, which, if I let myself go, may have result in a backlog of photos that would require two sessions to show [which, in fact, it does]. Type this to 7:45AM, up-to-date. I shower to 8:03AM, Ken waiting patiently (sort of) for me to dress, and we go down to see a short, Paul McLean-type pink-skinned, pleasant person, who waves at us from his table for four. Custom-made omelet is rather small, so I have less for breakfast today than yesterday, and have to order two cups of hot chocolate because I can't get a pitcher of it. Up at 8:43 to catch up with this while Ken reads the paper, saying he'd read a VERY anti-Israel editorial yesterday, and I call Israel (per Mildred) "the bane of the US," which of course Ken loves to hear, saying it's rather what he'd expect of me. Figure to get the gunk from between my teeth and brush them. Dubai's population shrank from 2.2 million to the current 1.6 million due to workers' flight from the economic crisis. 40% of the people are from India, mostly Muslim. Tourism is 36% of the income, with aluminum second and finance first. We travel to the top of the Palm Jumeirah, but can't go up in the Atlantis Hotel to see the Palm as a whole. Tony insists the hotel is fully occupied, but since it's Friday, the holiday, everyone is recovering from their spree last night and is "cooling it" now. My lens is clouded when I try to take pictures. Tony doesn't bother to tell us that photos aren't allowed in the Miraj, so I carry my camera uselessly past all the jeweled carpets, tacky paintings, silk and wool rugs being unrolled for bored Chinese clients, and bronze life-sized horses---all this punctuated by jabbering Chinese infants. That goes to 10:30, when we have to leave for our 11AM tickets to the top of the Burj Khalifa, which we enter through a maze (as at Disneyland) for entertaining those who might have to be waiting on line. Up to the elevator at 11:10, take pictures in the terrible haze, not even certain to have photographed the nearest large feature: the World. Murky buildings from the top, lots of people, and they have no BOOK about it, but Ken says it's only been open since January of this year. We start down at 11:32, underwhelmed. Steel model, one foot high, is 380D, and the postcard is 6D. #291 shows Burj Khalifa to the left of the palm tree, hopefully visible in the smog. To pier at 12:30 and onto a boat for a run around Dubai (which seems to mean Two Brothers) Creek, where the initial founders settled on opposite banks with their clans, but when one died, the other took over and made it the basis of current-day Dubai. Off boat at 12:36, trying to find open spice markets, or souks, or shops, but it IS Friday, and even some place Tony had sworn would be open has a prominent sign saying "Open at 3:30." Back to car in stifling heat at 12:49, Tony sitting in back so that Charley, in front, can hear what he says better than when their positions were reversed. Back to hotel at 1:05, when Ken and Charley stay down for lunch, Charley confessing that he left his bag (and his glasses) in the back of the car, so he'll have to meet them at 2:15 when they come to pick up Ken for his decreasing number of open galleries. I give him (he knows it already) our room number in case the plans change from meeting downstairs at 3:30. He's in room 318. I look at the menu, ask for the soup of the day, and it's lentil (which is the soup on the menu, for 22D), and I get a bill for 25D after getting a second tasty, spicy bowl, with lots of brown bread and indistinguishable oleo and butter, and back up at 1:41PM to type a bit, shitting just before Ken comes in at 2:04. He demands a match for my non-English (i.e., smelly) shit, and I've put off the A/C to sit in my shorts while he looks at his list of galleries. I type this to 2:06, hoping he doesn't notice that I shut off the A/C. Now just lie down for a bit before dressing in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, assuming we're not going to be outside at all in the sun before dinner in the desert---and I probably won't be riding the camel. Assuming, of course, that the main pavilion, or whatever, is air-conditioned---well, as it would HAVE to be! Took my water down to drink with lunch, and made Ken promise that the second banana in the bowl (he had the first) is mine. He's still poring over his list as I finish at 2:08; then he gets up to pack his bag and goes downstairs. I set my watch alarm, which seems not to go off, but I wake at 3:22, dress quickly, and get down at 3:33 to find Charley waiting for me, and we get picked up by Bari, from Pakistan, at 3:37, and get a honeymoon couple from South Africa (who go into the back seat) and a couple from Delhi (who share the middle seat with Charley). We stop at a gas station at 4:14 for rest and water, if needed, past many more abandoned, remaining-under-construction, unchanged-for-two-years-already, and never-started projects for enormous investments that have all fallen through since the---in their opinion---US-caused depression. Out into the desert at 4:27, having done a sudoku. Pass two rather small oryx, which he says are wild here, along with gazelles. He lets air out of the tires at 5PM, and then he helps a fellow driver with a flat (as the man's wearing a djellaba, OUR driver seems to do much of the digging in the area around the tire, into which sand keeps sifting), while his Japanese or Korean passengers mill around taking pictures. Then bounce over the mountains of sand, Bari desperately trying to get us to shout in ecstasy, until 5:48, when we get out to watch the sunset, so to speak, since the horizon is murky, and Charley asks me to take about the sixth picture of him. To camp at 6:14, where loads of people are lined up for what turns out to be a two-to-a-camel, three-minute-in-a-circle camel ride, and then we go to the NON-air-conditioned camp, where I get a lime soda and sit in a stifling hut where piled-up cushions enable me to sit as on a chair. Our group is pushed out by a large family, so I sit across from a Turkish couple who don't speak much. They pass out pita-wrapped appetizers filled with veggies and ground meat, and then there's a male dancer who twirls, makes formations with umbrellas, and lights up, and then urges the women to twirl, the South African woman being best; and then a "sexy" belly dancer comes on, usually to ME, for about an HOUR, after which my neck cramps and I finally move BACK to my chair because I can't STAND sitting so close to the ground. Get a plate of hummus, eggplant, a good chicken kebab, and a tough chop, and another lime soda, and we finally leave at 8:26, driving a long way (past flashing buildings) to the hotel at 9:26, after which Ken and I tell each other about our days, and get to bed at 10:33PM.

SATURDAY, 10/9/10: Pee at 12:25, and again pee and type DREAMS:10/9/10 at 3:30. Put batteries on charge when Ken's up and I can find adapter, and they're ready when I get up at 7:07 to pee, wash face, get my pills, and then phone rings at 7:30 and I get my white shirt and black pants ready for the Burj al-Arab, and tell Ken to PLEASE change his awful khaki work-pants for his "dress" pants for the afternoon tea. Record fragment of a dream of Rita throwing snowballs at my back. Start typing while Ken shaves, and I marvel for the hundredth time about people who have to do that EVERY DAY. Finish this to 7:57 as Ken, for whatever bizarre reason, goes down to see if he can find a weather forecast, as if it would be anything but blazing hot with smog-like obscurity filling the air. Want to check the itinerary, but will do that in my spare time this afternoon. Dunned for "full-day" tour for 780D, and I pay 203D for Ken and me for the transfer to museums today, Rio saying he comes "for collection," which Ken interprets to mean "for transportation," and turns out to mean "for money." I wondered when this was going to happen. Leave breakfast without my second cup of hot chocolate, too warm anyway in my white shirt even with my cuffs rolled up. To room at 8:41AM to put things away and glance through a paper before leaving to be "collected" at 9AM. Absolutely nothing of interest in the paper by 8:50AM, Ken going through it with the same speed. This morning he got a weather report from Addis Ababa saying it won't be raining, and he hopes to be able to check us in for tomorrow's flight this evening. Charley gave Ken 20D for "his share" of the $55 transfer, so Ken's prepared to give him the bad news that he's underpaid. I compulsively fetch this up-to-date by 8:52AM, ready to go downstairs. Sort of decide to spend SOME of my remaining dirham for stamps. Down at 8:56 to be greeted by Rajeev, whom I didn't recognize until he shook hands with us. He and Ken and Vinod talk about money, and I say, "Though Ken thinks I have no chance of making a deal, I think that---even though I agreed to a full-day tour for $200, which was scheduled from 11AM-6PM---since I actually got back at 2:30 because I didn't want to see some museum, and didn't want to be taken to the mountains, I could get SOME money back." Rajeev sits for a few moments at his calculator, and only LATER did I realize that I'd "accidentally" quoted a trip from 11AM-2:30, which at 3.5 hours would be EXACTLY HALF the seven-hour full-day trip, and he finally comes up with the startling fact that he is willing to return $100 to me! He gives Vinod a large bill and asks him to get change at the desk, which he can't get, and then asks him to get the proper change during our tour today. Somewhat later, Vinod says "250D," but Ken and I remind him that Rajeev had said $100, and THEN I request that Vinod, since he had to change something ANYWAY, please change the money from Rajeev into DOLLARS, as that would save ME the trouble of changing dirham into dollars, since I was leaving early tomorrow. He agrees, and later goes into a change place in one of the malls and comes out quite quickly and places a ONE HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL in my hand! I thank him profusely. Talk about solving my financial-cash problem! We leave at 9:06 to the Dubai Museum in the Al Fahidi Fort, built in 1787, going from room to room above ground, then into the enormous addition underground, taking #328 of pearl merchant at 9:36AM. Buy a Dubai book in the shop for 55D, and two stamps for 6D, but am still left with 95D, and leave at 10:06AM. To Shaikh Saeed al-Maktoum House for air-conditioned area after air-conditioned area, separated by extremely hot walks across the broiling courtyards, sadly not able to take pictures of some of the stamps from early British rule, through the Trucial States, and early Dubai issues. We're here 10:15-10:58, getting tired, but collecting lots of papers and books. To the Camel House 11-11:12, two galleries and photos to 11:52, and out in parking area at 12:15. Into the Mall of the Emirates for my $100 bill! To car at 12:33 and to door of Burj al-Arab at 12:45, taking lots of photos of the truly impressive interiors. Up to a window to take a picture before we're seated, and we end up exactly where I'd taken it! Large menu of many courses, and I start with a delicious dark Kir Royale; then we have a few dozen sandwiches (accompanied by my English tea and Ken's Masala tea), and then work our way down through desserts, to the "Carvery" item of a beef filet surrounded by mushrooms surrounded by a good rich crust of bread, and Ken orders a bottle of Perrier they don't charge us for, and we have more teas: I Equilibrium followed by Ayurveda, he Date (which he returns because of its excessive smokiness) and then Rose (which isn't bad). More shortbread, extra sandwiches for Ken, chat with the Slovenian couple next to us, talk with Andrea, our head waiter from Genoa, and get to scones and passion fruit, clotted cream, raspberry, and raspberry mousse, and order the (oh, forgot about the "pearls" in water, thanks to Ferran Adria, which really didn't work) bill, which is exactly 790D, so they didn't charge for the water or for the phone call to Vinod delaying our pickup time from 3 to 3:30PM. The view of the Burj Khalifa is gradually dimmed by increasing smog/sand in the air. Lovely time, magical moments, then down in the elevator at 3:23 and to the car at 3:30. At 3:45 The Jamjar is closed. To Third Line Gallery to 4:04. Rajeev calls via Vinod's phone to tell me that the male's dance last night was "Tanura," a traditional Egyptian dance. To Total Art to 4:25, taking two shots of pictures: one for me, one for Ken. Take Vinod and the sculpture of a fountain called Ayyam ("day") to 4:35, and to Van Den Eynde to 4:38, not what Ken's looking for. Carbon12 to 4:42, and Art Sawa to 5PM, Vinod calling ahead and zipping around as if he knows exactly how to get there. To my desired stop at Gold and Diamonds Shop, Ken going along (although exhausted) because I'd been so patient going to HIS desired destinations, and we LOVE looking at all the jewelry, including diamonds, bracelets, and imaginative earrings and brooches. There from 5:11-5:25, satisfying me, and to hotel at 5:48, Ken giving Vinod 100D for the two days he served him so well. They have no other stamps at the desk, so I'm still left with 95D to give part to Vinod and spend part at the airport before leaving. To the room at 5:56. Shit a bit while Ken goes down to get our two boarding passes and calls Charley to say we're not having dinner at all. Undress and prepare a bit for tomorrow with pills to 6:22PM and then type all this to 6:57PM, Ken having mostly packed, clearing the deck for ME to pack, first by looking through Ahi An magazine to see if there are any sexy pictures. Start packing at 7:04PM. Pack everything to 7:35, rather neatly, but the paper bags are such a DRAG! Close suitcase, and everything else will have to be put into my shoulder bag, hoping Addis will be warm enough that I won't need anything more than a shirt when we arrive around noon. Ken keeps talking to himself about what he should have and didn't bring, and how much energy he should spend looking for it, and constantly, constantly, CONSTANTLY clearing his GODDAM THROAT!! Now that I'm packed I have no idea what to do except sudoku before taking my evening pills, the chocolate mint, and going to bed. Eat the orange until 7:54, having polished off the chocolate and my pills. Let's see: bed at 8PM and wake-up call at 5AM is NINE hours, so it's a luxury, and I can always type dreams, so I might as well go to bed NOW! EXACTLY 100D left: seven 10s, five 5s, and five 1-coins. Maybe 60D to Vinod tomorrow, and spend 40D, maybe $12, on books or nuts or candy at the airport. Now 8PM and Ken's finished showering, so I can do my final pee soon. Bed at 8:06PM. Start Actualism a few times, my body not quite ready to fall asleep, but then it does. Dream of two stories, I think from Short Story Masterpieces, which are read through in my dream but end differently, one with the addition of one word at the end, and another with the omission of the last word. Wake at 11:38PM, already having slept over 3.5 hours, and pee and type this to 11:44PM, not quite typing these two mind-occupying dreams AS dreams, but stories to be looked up, possibly consecutive ones, to be identified and, if possible, revealed as to how I could have changed them. To repeat: the first about a woman doing something drastic about her life, possibly with a train trip, and the second, quite mundane, made extraordinary, with the addition to the first and the deletion in the second, of a final word.

SUNDAY, 10/10/10: 2:10AM: I don't even know what to call my latest mental activity. It may STEM from dreams I'm having, but my WAKING mind seems to participate also---as, for instance, I'm compelled to note now, I've thought what fun it would be to type, on the plane to Addis, at 10:10:10AM on 10/10/10. But to describe the thoughts that got me out of bed to type now: it's like I'm editing files for my website, changing words and adding clarifications and transferring thoughts from one medium to another. I think of meeting Julian Gerard and consenting to watch his porn, thinking that I can make copies of what he shows me, and I can incorporate those into my own collection. At another point I think of me and Ken and---either a friend of Ken's, or Charley, or someone who is blind, and we are asked to change seats, and I move first, but I want to save two seats next to me so that Ken can sit beside me and the third person can sit next to him. To repeat: these might STEM in some way from dreams, but my WAKING mind is definitely participating in the extensions and elaborations of these thoughts. I even debate opening a new file on the Neo, devoted to these---knowing they aren't really part of my trip journal, nor are they dreams---but I can't decide what to call them, except, as once before, Notes, but then I'd just incorporate them into the journal in their chronological order, because there'd be no other "appropriate" way of handling them. The phrase from one of the Pratchett books may have some application (paraphrasing it): "The event in the future was so traumatic that it affected his entire lifeline, even BEFORE the event happened." Not to say these notes are anything at all traumatic---they seem to reflect my current content with my life when I'm NOT on a trip: I'm doing what I do when I feel like doing it---either attending to satisfying my life with entertainment, putting things into my website, or reorganizing my apartment; it's as if this were "reorganizing my mind," which in part is what dreams seem to do, so these thoughts are not UNRELATED to dreams, nor are they quite "Where Am I Now," as I've transcribed before. As clearly as possible: they're chains of thoughts that I feel are, somehow, important enough to record for retention in word form, capturing mental states that are not familiar to me. They could be part of some therapy that my mind (or the Higher) is doing on me, or, to paraphrase a joke that Ken told me today, it's like a psychotic who is definitely not a psychotic because the voices in his head keep telling him that he isn't. That is NOT AT ALL what Ken said, but it's my attempt to link what happened in the near past to the thoughts I'm trying to capture because---not that they're SIGNIFICANT---but simply because they're THERE, and I remember them, and I want to be able to read about them as part of the experience of this trip at this time, stopping now, having "drained my batteries," at 2:24AM. I DID say something earlier about "having nine hours of sleep is too much, so I'll spend an hour or so---doing something else." Anyway, witting---ha, THAT'S an interesting typo---SITTING on the john, I pee at 2:25AM. Lie and doze and think and start Actualism 2-3 times, then look at the clock at 3:23AM and turn over and probably doze more, though I do a complete Actualism session, going up to Formless Form and down to the Ground of Being, and then get up at 4:51, wash my face, using the shower cap, and hear Ken moving around just before the phone is supposed to ring at 5AM for our wake-up call. The day has begun. I turn on TV just to see what's there, and the succession to Kim Jong Un is being publicized in North Korea as an "extraordinary event." Phone rings at 5:02AM, and I type at 5:07AM. 5:12AM: Just not tired after seven hours' sleep, so I think of making a kind of midpoint summary. Only two countries so far [typing this after a day in Ethiopia], but both have far exceeded any expectations: the luxury of the "tea" at the Burj al-Arab hotel, the slight variations in the Emirates; the great contrast with the African-ness and poverty and, well, filth of Ethiopia. Concerns about health increasing: will it be constipation or diarrhea, will Diamox interact with other medicines to mess up my heart, as Ken fears? Charley is proving to be a perfect traveling companion: laughing at our jokes, looking on with amusement at our bickering, helping when asked, never putting himself in the front seat, both literally and figuratively. He so reminds me of Paul McLean. He keeps talking about his brother and his niece and an older male friend, rather like Spartacus does, and very rarely mentions female friends, yet there's nothing "overtly covert" about any conversation. Ken's compulsive organizing has come in handy so many times: dealing with vouchers, resolving the seemingly impossible Axum-Entebbe transfer, asking for laundry that benefits both of us, knowing much of the itinerary beforehand, knowing many of the facts of the places I'm too lazy to read about in advance---as I intend to do now, as a survey of remaining nights' stays: one more night in Lalibela, one night in Axum; then four nights in Uganda: one in Kampala, one in Jinja, two in Mantana Tented Camp; then two nights in Rwanda in the Mountain Gorilla View Hotel; return to Uganda for a night, and then the last night in Dubai Airport. So seven more transfers in the remaining ten nights. And with two new pair of clean socks, I can change them every other day. 5:20 breakfast arrives. Make an envelope with 40D (20D from Ken) for Hamid, and with 50D to Vinod from me. Ken shits while I type this at 5:47AM. Finish the banana, find we have a meal on the flight, put my shoes on, and put this into my bag at 5:52AM. Leave room 5:56AM. Extra bill, just as we're going into the car, for 120D---I have no idea for what, the clerk keeps apologizing about a "shadow" period or person or charge, and I pay it with my Visa card. To car at 6AM, to airport at 6:18, getting light. On baggage line at 6:26, to passport control 6:40, through 6:46. Walk long from 6:52 to Post Office at gate 118, which I'd hoped was just below our gate 210, which isn't open yet, Ken says, so I can't find him to tell him I'm walking yet FARTHER in the enormous terminal to get to the Post Office, where an old, fat fellow thumbs through his book and gives me about six stamps that I didn't have for about 14D, giving me two small coins with the 25-fils stamp. Stop in a magazine shop and look through the candies to find a pack of six Mars bars marked 14D, but with my 10% discount, and her having no small coins, it costs me only 12D, so I'm left with 4 1D coins and two smaller, a 50 and a 5, possibly. This takes to 7:18, and when I'm back to the upper gate, the boarding line (scheduled for 7:40) has already started. Onto bus at 7:50AM, where an Austrian gives his seat to Ken because he's "pleased to see someone older" than he, and he and Ken chat about Austria and languages and wines. Board at 8:02, crowded, two oriental friends sitting next to me, showing me how to pull out my control cord, only to have the remote spin back into its coil. 3:10 flight announced. Back out 8:49 and off at 9:10, looking through the bulky Sunday Times with essentially nothing in it but a sudoku that's too hard for me to do, and a second marked "very difficult" that I don't even start. Constant view out the window, first of Dubai---more impressive than most views from the ground, including a clear shot of the new, larger, palm island; and the coastal buildings still seem swathed in fog, but I'll see what my computer can do to enhance the images. Take LOTS of shots, knowing I'll be discarding lots. Out over suburbs, squares of buildings, then some farmland, then gradually a desert that for the first half-hour is sort of ripples and stream formations, the second half-hour scallops, the most featureless, but with the occasional road blacking through, parts covered with drifting sand, and some tiny black squares that might be oases. Then a half-hour of WAVES, large formations that yield to black rock-tops showing through the sand as we near the coast. The map is hard to read, and I can't think how to keep the music on with it. Set watch and camera clocks back one hour. #440 is of Djibouti at 10:33, and VERY green triangles of farms mixed with black triangles of, I guess, fallow ground, but VERY luxuriant looking and prosperous after the desolation of coastal Aden and Saana, from the map. We go to the point of the Arabian Peninsula, just north of Addis. Land at 11:24, passing what the guy said might have been Gondar, certainly a large city that I thought was Addis until we passed it, but Gondar is way to the north. Long wait to get off the plane at 1:39, and to a VERY tedious "Visa on Arrival" line with two pairs of people passing papers back and forth for the visa forms and one final woman collecting my $20. On the line at 11:42 and get visa at 12:22. Ken insists we get cash at 12:39 at the airport; he gets $100, so I borrow two tens from him so I can get $80, hoping it will be more than enough for the whole Ethiopian stay of six or seven days. Out to meet Charley, waiting for us a long time, with Kadu, our elderly, round-faced, small-eyed guide in a perspiration-inducing black suit. To car at 12:46. Five million people in Addis, 82 million in Ethiopia. To Intercontinental Hotel at 1PM, through a gate, past wrecked buildings, in a rather poor neighborhood, and Ken insists this is NOT the best hotel in town. The city itself is VERY poor: much construction seemingly stopped, shops opening directly on the road, without sidewalks, as in most of Africa, crowds of people overflowing in the streets---and we choose a room with twin beds, rather than a room with an enormous queen-size bed into which a cot would have to be trundled (for me, of course). Down at 1:30 and a circus of arrangements by the portly business manager handing envelopes and numerous timetables to Ken, who accepts it all for the three of us. Charley is willing to have Ken take it all. We three go to our rooms; ours is 412, opened by putting the card against the panel for a blue-lighted beep. To National Museum at 2PM. #456 is Yamanat from 6th C. BC. Of 14 pre-human species found, 12 are from Ethiopia. Photos of the "family tree," a REAL bovine skull (all pre-human remains are in laboratories, replicas only on display) from two million years ago, and Lucy dated to being aged 18-25, adult, not able to walk upright all the time, sort of in a crouch, they surmise. Stela from 12th C. AD. Fertility figure from 6th C. AD. Stocky fat woman from 5th C. AD. 1st C. BC dog bites ibex in wrought metal. Take a flash photo of the crown of Haile Selassie. Out at 3:10. [Ken is now climbing the wall at 5AM Monday as our breakfast, promised for 4:45, has not yet arrived, and we're supposed to leave for the airport at 5:15, and he says, "We're not going to have time to eat this." I decide to stop typing here and pack this away.] I'm starting to flag, feeling that the altitude may be affecting me: we HAD each taken a Diamox in the room about 1:15PM, but I think it requires a day to take effect. [We each took another one about 4:45 this morning.] We start in the museum on the lower level, the prehistory scene, with replicas of the human bones, with all twelve "generations" of pre-humans mapped out, and I am quite annoyed to find that two small children and three or four adult males trail along to hear Kadu's commentary---though whether they can understand his English---hard enough for US---is another question. I try hard not to deliberately step on them, and the little girl clearly gets the idea that I don't like her, and by the time we reach the third floor they vanish, though others follow for some bits. Take few pictures on the lowest floor because of my snobbery about not wanting to photo replicas of bones, instructive as the infant's skull may have been, and UNINSTRUCTIVE as the two-million-year-old REAL bovine skull was. Also, the blare of the repeating video of Ethiopia's importance in the evolution of man keeps interfering with Kadu's explanations, which come fast because I think he senses we aren't THAT interested in EVERY fact he has to give, so he tries to give them as quickly as his tongue can manage. I take off on my own for a bit, even going up to the third floor and hoping he wouldn't get up there, but then return downstairs to join Kadu when I find that many items have NO labels, or the labels are so far out of vision range they are impossible to read, not to mention that most lack dates. Then up to the first floor, where many of the VERY-old-looking items are merely 5th or 6th Century AD. Also, many tour groups walk through with their guides barking in various languages, including German. Take more photos on the second floor, and then he asks if we want to go higher, and both Ken and Charley seem to want to, so I go along to the dimmer upper floors, where the cartoon-like Coptic-type paintings predominate, and the top floor, which is primarily farming and craft tools, clothing, and jewelry and basketwork. Kadu rushes through, I even ahead of him, and he then limps down all the stairs to the car, where he has to actually get OUT to summon the gatekeeper, who'd taken the driver's license from our driver as surety---of his not leaving the museum's grounds? Then we drive a few blocks up the hill to the University, for its museum, which appears to be closed, but then we are told at the gate that the SIDE door is open while the main hall is being reconstructed---the whole thing had been Haile Selassie's FIRST palace; his second palace is now the home of the Prime Minister, and his third is performing some other function. Up a long flight of stairs for a sign saying that no photographs are allowed, and a special exhibit follows man from birth to death and beyond. Two people are engrossed in a video showing the ritual of a naked man jumping over a bull, which Ken says that the guy from Globe Trekker did with great success, though he didn't have as much luck with the hand-to-hand combat for a future wife, which is ALSO one of their rituals. Charley takes a picture of something without anyone saying anything, but when we get to Haile Selassie's bedroom, I ask if the "no photos" rule is still in effect, and when Kadu said it is, Charley murmurs he hadn't seen the sign. The bed is covered in plastic under a light blue canopy surmounted by a crown. His bathroom is rather amusing: large bare spaces with a double sink but perfectly ordinary toilet and tub, with curtains enclosed in plastic. Then to the queen's bedroom, which has no bed, but a few of her dresses and a white-fur floor-length coat are on display, with photos and paintings. Her bathroom is equally uninspiring. Then we're up to the floor above for many more "cartoony" paintings, and a pair of toilets that are locked, plus a turd-filled, fly-swarming, foul-smelling open toilet, into which I pee. Down to look at the shop, but find no book that I want, sad that there is no guide to the National Museum, and some of the postcards on sale don't show most of the interesting objects, being no more than reduced posters for the place. Out, very tired, at 4:09. I'm hoping we'd drive back through the main street, where I'd not taken photos of the main monuments, but we go left up the hill to what turns out to be Entoto, which Kadu said had been the ORIGINAL capital of Abyssinia before Addis, which some woman named, meaning "new flower." [Start file 2 7:29AM MONDAY, 10/11/10] Drive up and up, taking photos from the front seat while trying to be unobtrusive in capturing the "African-ness" of the crowded narrow street, the colorful shops spilling produce onto it. The shops thin out as we continue up the street, sometimes dipping down, but the overall trend is upward. The guide, sitting behind me talking with Charley and Ken, seems to say that Addis is at 1800 meters, but this hill goes up into the low 2000s, which would make it over a mile high. Still the people continue walking up and down, while Ken asks silly questions about education, literacy, and where these people are going to or coming from, even though the guide says most of them have jobs in the city, which they get to by bus. The busses continue their business up the hill, stopping in swirls of dust, with crowds of people getting on and off. We pass a few churches, and people (particularly kids), keep waving at us, though a few tougher young boys either pretend to or actually do throw things at the car. We finally get to a curve of the road where we get out of the car and look north, say, onto a vista of hills and valleys receding into the distance. I take some photos of the tiny blue flowers growing very low in the goat-cropped grass, sometimes mingled with bright yellow flowers, some of which are growing in vibrant banks along the high side of the road. We look out, then get back into the car and start driving back, with the opposite effect of more people, shops, and activity, until we're back in the city again and go into the "dangerous" market, which, on Sunday, is still jammed with people, though many of the shops are shuttered with sheets of aluminum. I keep raising and lowering the camera to take fleeting shots, and Ken said he thinks they'd make interesting movies, but I tell him he can do that if HE were the cameraman, implying we might be attacked by angry "victims" if they catch me taking their pictures. Sometimes the crowds are so dense the car has to honk its way through, people looking back at us with controlled patience and semi-irritation. A few try to sell things thrust against our windows, which I had rolled up. Fewer and fewer pictures as the scenes become more common, and as it gets darker, and we finally reach the hotel at 5:25. I lie exhausted on the bed, having found that the early dinner doesn't start at 6PM, as Ken wished, but at 6:30. I rest for a bit, but then take my camera, see that I'd shot to #510, and go back to #1 and start deleting: many of the just-passed buildings of the skylines of Dubai, some of the distant mosque shots, some of the less-interesting falcon movies---leaving others of the operations to be judged later when I find how much additional room I need on my single disk. Very many of today's photos aren't very good, and I keep relatively few, hoping to have at least captured the feeling of African foreignness of our first day in Ethiopia. Down to #390 by 6:29PM, having discarded 120 photos, almost a quarter of those I started with. Down first to the empty dining room, where the boss has to call the help out to give us menus. Ken is very disappointed that they don't have Tajj, the local honey wine, and he and Charley select another local vintage that they share with their injera-based dinners: Ken with the traditional dish he finds difficult to manage with large pieces of chicken, containing bones, which he can't figure how to handle without silverware. Charley has the "tibs," the second traditional dish, and seems more adept with the messy injera bread than Ken is, who got two spice spots on his shirt. I have the mixed grill, with the kibbe a ball of largely uncooked meat (which I eat only the browned outside of, but of course some of the nearly raw meat adheres to the inside of such pieces). Don't really feel hungry, so I don't eat much (Ken starts with an enormous salad that he eats barely half of). The lights go out for about 20 seconds just as Ken is about to pour more wine, but before we can wonder when they'd bring out the candles, the lights come back on. We aren't interested in dessert, and my Abyssinian sparkling water, which Ken says has been highly recommended, tastes of something that I later identify as salt when I see it has a relatively high sodium content, and he says he really doesn't care for it, but I'm thirsty and have no trouble finishing the half-liter bottle. Back to room at 7:47PM, not doing anything to prepare for tomorrow's 5:15 departure, and get to bed at 7:58PM while Ken fusses about packing. Up to pee at 11:05PM.

MONDAY, 10/11/10: 12:51AM pee. Pee for the third time at 4:04AM, and decide to stay up for the long day, having slept close enough to eight hours to make no difference, and feeling awake and alert. Pile the bedding on the bed and my bag on top of it, taking everything out and discarding the large Hungry Joe's, or whatever, shopping bag and a smaller, bulky, yellow souvenir bag from somewhere: the items didn't fill them properly, and their bulk prevented anything from being usefully inserted alongside them. All the clothes---pants, shirts, sweater, underwear, socks---on the bottom, then some bags with loose objects on top, putting items for the shoulder bag to the side, along with a short-sleeved shirt to wear under the North Face long-sleeved shirt for protection against the coolness of the morning, which I test by finding the way to open the balcony door and stepping outside to look at the fire below, started by the family that seems to be living beside the rubble of a building either paused in its construction, or being torn down---it's such a shambles it's hard to tell which. Finish packing at 4:38AM, relatively little in the shoulder bag: dop kit, reading material (again freed from its bags), Mars bars at the bottom for sustenance, and the rest of the regular items, including the old Ethiopia guidebook article that I still haven't read, and the old Michelin north Africa map. The wake-up call comes at 4:15, which I answer while Ken is in the bathroom, and get another call, not a person, at 4:30. Ken and I each take another Diamox. He calls at 4:35AM when the breakfast, promised for 4:30, has yet to arrive, and is assured it's just on its way "in five or ten minutes." I continue to type, eventually putting on my shoes and pants to be ready to dash out after our rushed breakfast, and Ken calls angrily down AGAIN at 4:50, to be told it was "just a minute." I type to 5AM and, since we're supposed to be down at the car at 5:15, pack my Neo and put on my outer shirt, waiting for the breakfast. Ken ends up out in the hall, reporting that the cart delivers Charley's breakfast first about 5:03, and ours finally arrives on two enormous trays at 5:04. I have hard granular scrambled eggs with flecks of spices and herbs, three large rolls, and a glass of juice that seems more grapefruit than orange, which I tell Ken I'm not even supposed to have; he suggests that the fruit on the plate is grapefruit also, but I tell him it's pear and pineapple. The two cups of hot chocolate are good, and cool enough to be drunk, carefully, without milk. No butter for the rolls. The ham is EXTREMELY salty, which Ken isn't eating, since he's been complaining about intense thirst from the previous day. We wolf down all we can, peeing in the meantime with mouths chewing cuds of breakfast, and Ken insists on leaving on the dot of 5:15, which I find excessive, and I say I'll follow him later, mouth loaded with the last of the fruit, and mistakenly punch M and get out for a moment on the floor above the main level, and get back into the elevator and punch G at 5:17. Ken's sitting at a desk arguing with a clerk about our contract seeming to want to pay for only ONE meal for our room of two people, and I try interjecting "two people, two meals!" but it doesn't seem to help. Charley, having passed his check-out successfully, is already out at the van with his luggage. Ken continues to debate being charged anything other than the wine he's already paid for, so I say I'll just go outside, too. Load both my bags into the back, and finally Ken comes out, having had to pay nothing more, finally, at 5:23. The unseen driver whisks us through the deserted, dark, lightless streets to the airport, brightly lit, at 5:33. We stop far from the terminal amid a cluster of porters waiting with baggage trucks, but Charley accepts Ken's "invitation" to carry his enormous carry-on bag, which Ken can't carry because his back is acting up, and we get to the end of TWO lines waiting OUTSIDE the terminal in the cool, just-dawning morning at 5:37AM. Two women behind us, married to missionaries and having lived in Ethiopia for five years, tell us that everything will ALWAYS be late, and will go wrong, and we really need to have a sense of humor with us at all times. Ken continues to talk with them while I stare ahead at the glass facade of the huge terminal and think about maybe even getting out my sudoku book. Pass security at 5:57, which is right inside the door, monitored by a commanding guard who lets in only the people ready to take off their shoes and put their metals into the security trays. I take off shoes, belt, and watch, and when I continue to fail the gate, take off my safety pin and luggage key and remove my notepad and, at last, my wallet with its metal corner. To long, winding check-in line at 6:15, getting the last window in the rear, thankfully in 30A, away from the rising sun as we fly north, for the 45-minute flight. Then the long interchanges about our flights, times, destinations, and departures start, which I try to capture in file 6: 6:35AM: If you take Pepto right after eating questionable food, it may help kill any harmful bacteria. Get Neo out because the fuss at the check-in counter is SO elaborate, I want to capture it: I request a rear window, and she gives me 30A, which is the last row, she says, for a 45-minute flight---at least that MAY be if we go DIRECT to Bahar Dar. Our problems start, at least for Charley and me, when they don't have our names on the flight list, but then find we'e been changed from flight 122 to flight 126. At ANOTHER point, one of the stewardess-types says, "You're on the THIRD flight." MY check-in attendant says that Bahar Dar and Lalibela were essentially on a line east-west, north of Addis, and so our flight, rather than stopping at Bahar Dar first, will stop at Lalibela first. But others insist NOT, so I finally go to the clerk at the DEPARTURE LOUNGE, and he looks and looks, and says that we'll be landing in Lalibela at 9AM, stay on the ground for 20 minutes, and take off to land in Bahar Dar at 10AM, quite a change from our 7-7:45AM flight to our 10AM landing---particularly since we had to get up at 4:15AM and wolf down breakfast. There were other steps that are now vague, including my clerk going to the clerk BEYOND Charley's clerk when she asks if I have another copy of my itinerary, and I point to Charley two stations over and say that HE has the same itinerary as I do, in fact there are three of us. Ken says he has no problem, they seem to locate him on the changed flight 126 right away. Then I ask my clerk what time the flight leaves, and she keeps insisting that it is still 7AM. But then the clerk next to Charley's clerk insists it's an 8AM departure. The elevator-button is flashing OU-OU-OU, and I keep on pressing it until someone walking up the adjacent stairs says that it's out of order. When I stand by Charley at the head of the stairs, I hear Ken calling my name, saying that the two women, despite everything, say that our plane is leaving NOW! We get on line at the check-in desk, and that's when I get a round yellow sticker over my "7:15 boarding time" note, with the woman adding, "You're on the third flight." My FIRST woman said that I'd like Lalibela, and I told her we were flying there LATER, and then she apologized for our having to go there TODAY before getting to Bahar Dar. Charley leans forward now and reminds me that the manager had actually SAID, "The flight leaves at 7AM, or maybe 8AM," and so this may happen OFTEN, and he was almost EXPECTING it. I'm glad I got a lot of sleep last night, even though I had to get up to pee three times. Guess I've exhausted the impetus that brought me to Ethiopia---except to note that Ken had the bright idea to call the mobile phone of the agent HERE to let HIM make the effort to call the representative in Bahar Dar, and Ken is now BROADCASTING all our information to EVERYONE in the lounge, and reporting that we're supposed to arrive at 9:50AM at this point. And our female friend laughs when she hears that "we're due to arrive at 9:50AM." Ken is only happy that his BOARDING pass and his LUGGAGE tag have the same flight number on them, now surmising that so many people wanted to fly that they simply added more flights, though why they should delay those who reserved FIRST to the THIRD flight needs some compassionate explanation. Leave the check-in line, with a boarding pass and luggage check for flight 126, as opposed to the 120 on our itinerary, which was pointedly MARKED on Charley's itinerary and not on Ken's or mine. To lounge at 6:35, chatting with the two women again about Ethiopia's "problems." I take out sudoku and finish one. Boarding call at 7:32---making our 4:15AM wake-up call TOTALLY unnecessary!---and our bus moves at 7:44, Charley allowing me to sit next to Ken and finish another sudoku. Board plane at 7:52, told forty minutes to Lalibela. Off at 8:05. City below, then clusters of houses, then cliffs over river ravines, sometimes with houses overlooking them, clusters of houses around round-roofed buildings that are usually churches, taking photos, then wilder countryside, descending toward Lalibela, but no sign of rock-cut churches as we land, VERY hard, at 8:47. I walk to front to pee---it's said to be only twenty minutes on ground, about 40% of the passengers off---oh, and we'd gotten a mayonnaise-coated ham sandwich in a wiener bun with a glass of apple juice through the short previous flight. They announce 25 minutes to Bahar Dar, I look at Africa map, which I share with the two women (who note the new name of their missionary area), and we're off at 9:05AM. Farmland, houses, and part of Lake Tana before landing, hard again with trays crashing to the floor behind me, at 9:28. Off plane 9:29, get bag (almost last one, face-down) from cart at 9:34, and out a rocky path to a road filled with cars, none for us. Ken goes to check, and finally finds someone he says was sent by Bisrat (whom he tried to telephone from Addis, and finally, supposedly, got through to), who he didn't trust at first because he didn't know what hotel we were going to. Into car at 9:52 and stop in the middle of the road to have Bisrat himself take over the driving, suggesting we go immediately to the falls, but Ken insists we stop at the hotel first. Drop a Polish woman at the Ghion, a garden-centered cheaper hotel, and leave there at 10:09 to get to our Summerland Hotel room 104 at 10:15. Unpack my shoulder bag for lightness, and we're back to fuss about schedules and Ken's damnable Tajj until 10:40, and start the drive to the falls at 10:33. They offer me the front seat, and I take shots of the town, particularly the flowering African tulip trees, and then we're off on a rocky, rutted road through a suburb, then a village, then fields (one of which is loaded with black-and-white ibis), and on and on---no one told us how far it was, but it WAS a distance on the map---taking shots now and then of crowds, who seem more and more unused to tourists, and passing herds of goats; cows; a magnificent pure-black Brahma bull; very old verdant, freestanding trees; fields of teff, the grain used for injera; lots of corn; some interesting new mud-and-straw constructions, and loads and loads of seemingly content people driving mule carts; herds of cattle, carrying loads of potatoes or grain or fuel-wood; the day seeming to get hotter and hotter, not the coolness we expected, at least not at this altitude, which the guide says is in the low 2000 meters. Finally get to a gate at 11:36, undergo a number of financial negotiations (at one point a pretty African woman writes our license number into a receipt book), and we start our walk at 11:48, a guide appointed for each of us. We begin on the level to a hut on the edge of the river's gorge, then over and down a steep rocky path to a 400-year-old bridge, built by the Portuguese, with the rushing brown Blue Nile surging under it, to a depth of nine meters, according to the guide. Then up another rocky path, breathing heavily, passing villagers begging us to buy fabrics, carvings, shawls, toys, and bottles of cold water. Pause to rest a few times, appalled by how quickly I'm out of breath and panting. Ken falls behind, too, and Charley seems in much better shape, not even appearing to be out of breath. I'm relieved when we can finally hear the falls in the distance, and climb one final hill to look over the lowest, widest falls, impressive in themselves, and we're encouraged by the statement that the dams that HAD taken water for power are now both under reconstruction, so that ALL the water is flowing over the falls. A narrower, but much HEAVIER falls appears to the right, and then, farthest along, another broad Niagara-like falls, in some places incredibly thick in its flow, all in all THE most impressive. We pass other people going up, equally winded, while the guides, accustomed to the altitude, assist in any way possible. Mine is named Yayu, and at first tries to hold my hand or elbow, which I don't like, and he settles into holding out a thin, twig-like forearm, not muscular but solid, that I can use for however much support a particular step needs. He, indeed, is very skillful in selecting a side path that offers his arm to me while I step down the easiest available way. We stop at various places for wonderful still photos, and finally I start taking videos, asking where I can find a viewpoint over the confluence of two lower falls, for example, and he knows exactly where to go. Charley even gives his camera to his guide, who scuttles down the cliff-side almost into the spray to take a closer photo. Many more people join in groups along the trail, and I later hear (from the couples on the boat on Lake Tana) that some went to the end of the trail we're on, waded across a knee-deep river, walked a long distance up-river, crossed the river ABOVE the falls in a ferry, and walked back to the place where everyone's cars had parked for any venture to viewing the falls. They said it took about four hours. I begin to stop to rest, and Yayu has heard of the Swahili "poley, poley" for "slow, slow," and starts using it. Toward the end I begin taking videos (disappointed that the zoom doesn't work) of the various falls, moving from one to the other, and then revert to taking stills toward the end. Charley and Ken start back already, and I don't want to hold them up, so I try going faster, which is OK as long as I am on relatively level ground, or downhill, until I get to the bridge, and the final uphill really KILLS me. I'm very glad to see that Ken is just in front of me, and I even join him pissing into the bushes beside the road. We get back into the car at 1:10. Ken wants to get in front, but the guide implies that it will be very hot there in the sun while driving back, so he chooses to sit behind, leaving me the front seat again. I try to point out some exotic birds, and again find the lake with ibis, of which Charley managed to catch a glimpse of a few, but which Ken missed. Start back at 1:20, and seeing that it took from 10:33 to 11:36 to get there, resign myself to the long trip back, from 1:20-2:25. Bisrat suggests a quick snack for lunch: cheese sandwiches, and I request something COLD, and greatly enjoy the orange Fanta-like Merinda for 7B. The discussion goes on and on, I buy two bottles of wonderfully cold water for 14B, and finally at 3:05 we each get two enormous cheese sandwiches in a plastic bag, one of which Ken and Charley eat right away, but I just don't feel hungry, still breathless from the strenuous trek at altitude. Bisrat asks if we'd share our small boat with four Britishers: we'd get a larger boat that would get to the monastery faster. Sure! 3:15 to the boat, which they have a hell of a time lugging in to shore, what with the wind, the waves, sheer incompetence, and a metal pole in the water that scrapes against the side of the boat with a metal-on-metal screech. I choose a plastic chair so that I can move back and forth, and the four Brits sit in the back, which isn't good for speed, so they're asked to move to the front, where the good-looking Welshman and Ken seem to have a great conversation (though Ken later told me that the motor noise was so loud he could understand only 75% of what was said to him), while Charley is pinioned on the other side by a husband and wife (both unattractive) from elsewhere in Britain. I ask the kid (who, for much of the crossing, sits in the front of the boat getting sprayed by the spume from the bouncy bow) where we're going, and he points to the Zege Peninsula and monastery #5, which I seem not to have recorded. Dock at 4:02, told the walk up would take 15 minutes (which doesn't make the three of us very happy), and it turns out the path is rocky and sometimes steep, again surrounded by sales booths, and it takes us from 4:02-4:31, so 29 minutes for our 15-minute walk! Then they try charging each of us 50B while we're taking off our shoes, until our boatman shows the money-collector some sort of voucher that says our entrances were prepaid. Get inside at 4:42, are taken around to each of the four sides, and hear for the first time that ALL these churches have a central Holy of Holies in which "a replica of the Ark of the Covenant is kept, and only one priest is permitted to enter the Holy of Holies." Take pictures of practically every painted wall. The story of St. John the Baptist being suckled by a Tora, an ibex-horned antelope, (Ken derides me when I ask if that Tora had any relation to the Jewish Torah) is next to the image of some poor saint suckling at the breast of his dead mother. The guide is good, being cute, answering questions accurately, not overwhelming with detail, and we're out---I'm tired---at 5PM. Start down at 5:11, take a shortcut, and still get back at 5:37, so whoever could make it in 15 minutes would really be an athlete. Boat goes at 5:41, and at 5:45 they announce we'll visit the outlet of the Blue Nile from Lake Tana to see if we can find any hippos there. I'm thrilled, but then Ken does say it had been explicitly included in our itinerary, which I've been intending and intending and intending to read, and still haven't done it. But then I haven't read the old guidebook on Ethiopia itself. At 6:08, somewhat after the sun has sunk into the purple pall some three or four sun's diameters above the horizon, we reach the reeds surrounding the outlet, and I scan the shores with my binoculars, asking if the trees standing in the water indicate that the lake is high, and the guide, as opposed to some other guide before, says it is. Some locals in reed boats paddle past, but no hippos can be seen. Dock at 6:35 in high waves, the driver having to roll up his pants above his knees and leap into the shallow water to manhandle the boat alongside the dock, so we can all jump out. I go back to cabin #1, still open, with lights on, and shit at 6:38 while Ken and Charley wait for me because, supposedly, there aren't any toilets in the restaurant, though, somehow, later Charley points out the doors which DO lead to the toilets behind the restaurant. I order a mixed grill for dinner, and I guess because I complained that my last mixed grill had raw kibbe, got no kibbe. Ken and Charley share a bottle of wine that, as usual, they say isn't as bad as it could be, and they both load up on dust-colored injera and various greasy meats and fish, which Bisrat puts on the table as gifts and then charges for. I fall in love with the parfait-layered dessert, so that when I hear it is only layers of guava, mango, pear, orange, and some other fruit juices I decide to have it, and some of the combinations of layers are truly unique. Finish dinner at 8:22, having had to wait a LONG time to get my dessert, but the conversation ss enjoyable and the weather comfortable, and the blazing fire nearby seems to keep the insects away. We're driven, reluctantly, back to the Summerland Hotel by Bisrat at 8:40---he even offers Ken and Charley beers to keep them there longer---and I fall into bed at 8:55PM.

TUESDAY, 10/12/10: 3:43AM pee and shit. 6:04AM LOOSE shit, red, like from tomato soup last night, and then it happens TWICE, and I wipe to 6:12. 6:19AM back to typing in file 2. Ken roots me out of the bathroom at 6:44, incessantly clearing his throat, and we get a wake-up knock at 7:03, which we'd requested for 7:45AM. Ken reminds me at 7:28 to turn on the hot-water heater for five minutes before my shower. Shower very nicely from 7:35-7:51, the water draining slowly before reaching the level at which it would inundate the bathroom. I dress to 8:05, Ken goes down before me to meet Charley, and I'm down to breakfast on an omelet and toast and orange juice that somehow makes me thirsty, which the powdered hot chocolate barely slakes. Back up at 8:42 to find and take mefloquine at 8:49, maybe not drinking enough water with it, and pack and get down at 8:58 after a final pee, feeling breathless. Driver not HERE yet. Ken calls Bisrat at 9:03 and the car arrives at 9:04 and leaves at 9:06. Drive to the Ghion, buy two COLD waters for 12B, and transfer to another van. Leave in crowded car at 9:45 with a driver, a co-driver (who never drove, but maybe he drove the car back), and a guide, the kid from the boat who isn't entirely stupid, yet he doesn't know much. Go up what I think is a side road to see an enormous monolith that we photograph from three or four different angles, but that turns out to be the road to Gondar. Arrive at 12:20, feeling poorly, and lie down at 12:30. At 12:40 Ken suggests I take a Reglan for nausea, which I accept. Up at 1:45, slightly better, not feeling hungry enough to go with them for lunch in town. Find Vicks for my nose and lip ice for my dryness, and feel the better for it. Try to shit, but it's no go. Into car at 2:02 and leave at 2:05, buy three waters (I'm drinking so much because it seems to make me feel better), and at 2:19 into Atse Fasil Compound, Gondar's capital in 1668, remaining so through seven generations of the same family, each of whom built another castle in the compound over a period of 250 years, punctuated by various fires, wars, bombardments, and devastations. The guide is EXTREMELY tedious, talking ENDLESSLY about the same scarred stone walls, walking grass-grown paths past not very interesting constructions, and talking ON and ON and ON until 3:39. Then to Debre Haile Selassie at 3:45-4:20, a rather boring church at which he AGAIN manages to bore me with endless Catholic legends, and I simply stop listening, which Ken also does for about ten minutes before we leave, citing Charley's seeming interest as a reason to NOT leave. Finally put our shoes back on and drive to the baths from 4:25-4:35, where I say I DON'T want to deny the details to Ken and Charley, but I'm not feeling well, so I'd just like an overview, and he leads us inside at 4:37 and sits me down for what appears to be the start of ANOTHER interminable string of details, so I grit my teeth and wander off, circumambulating the pool, taking pictures of the Ta Prohm-like tree roots growing over the walls, and get to the car at 4:51 to take my shoes off, make a pillow of my shoulder bag, my hat, and an almost empty liter plastic bottle of water---and then, to my "total chagrin," they return to the car at 4:54 (though Ken later said both he and Charley got sufficient information about the baths). The Falasha Village, the Black Jewish community that Ken really wanted to see, was dropped from the day's itinerary, and we return to the hotel at 5:02 to pee, being told we have to leave at 7AM tomorrow morning to get to the airport for the 8:50AM flight to Lalibela. Ken frets about my health, seeming to think, by my breathlessness, that my heart is about to stop---given my combination of age, medications, and exertions. I insist it's mainly the altitude, citing the fact that I SLEEP very well, which I didn't do when I was REALLY hit with altitude sickness in Tibet with a cold. I resist his suggestion that I start with Cipro---mainly because I have only one course of them. Up at 6:39, thinking of ordering a soup and dessert for dinner, since I had no lunch, but they have no mushroom soup, have no desserts on the menu, and offer mainly spaghetti aside from the Ethiopian choices. So I order Spaghetti Bologna, which Ken also gets by mistake, and accepts. I try for sparkling water, but they have none. Ken has infinite problems with waitresses who don't speak English, and we dine from 6:45-7:42, I eating maybe 1/3 the huge portion of spaghetti and decent-enough meat, to which we add coarsely shredded Swiss cheese; I hope I survive the first real meal of the day. Back to get a long-sleeved shirt and leave for the Azmari music concert at 7:52PM, with a strange woman in the front seat who turns out to be the driver's wife. The area is jammed with people and activity as we pull into a dim side street and a dusty parking lot, go through a kind of gate into a barren courtyard, and through a narrow pair of hanging colored curtains into a square room with a woman in a black-and-white dress shaking her booty and clapping her hands with amazing sharpness, and a man whaling away on a single string attached to a skewed box at the bottom of the neck of the instrument, which Ken said dated from the days of the Court Jesters, who were permitted to make fun of anyone in any way. A woman sat at a brazier roasting what I thought might have been chick peas, being the same size and color, but they turned out to be coffee beans, said Ken, even though no coffee was served. A young guy whacked away at a broad-headed drum with an abbreviated hockey stick in a relatively repetitive manner, and a detached-looking fellow occasionally tooted on a ram's-horn-shaped brass trumpet. A bartender came over to explain the various kinds of beer available, and I ordered a bottle of sparkling water, which turned out to cost 20B. The woman sang, or more precisely chanted, more or less the same all the time, while continuing her shoulder shaking and butt waggling. No one there seemed to be a customer yet, and I sat there as much as I could sit, clutching my camera in my lap, not looking at anyone's face, taking a few sips, carefully, from the very top of the water bottle, and then simply got up, left the room, and walked to a corner of the court and sat on a small flight of stone steps that went nowhere, at the base of which someone had fairly recently pissed. One or another of the men from the bar came out to try to chat me up, but I ignored them as much as I could. Periodically a salesman would come through, much like a Hollywood-movie cigarette girl, with a box full of cigarettes, candy, and (for all I know) drugs, and tried to get me interested in buying something or other, but I just kept not looking and shaking my head no, and eventually they gave up and moved out through the gate. One even said that I was sitting in a "dirty place." As if I didn't know. The music continued the same, and I sort of felt sorry because I figured Ken was hoping I'd video some of the music for him, but then I found that even STILL photos weren't allowed of the performers at all. I sat and sat, looking at my watch, vowing to stay outside until 9:02PM, a half-hour after I left. Got back inside to find the three of them (the driver, Ken, and Charley) standing, and Charley said they were about to leave. Sure, I thought, just wanting to LEAVE. I sat down and took a few more sips of my no-longer-cold sparkling water, while the performers asked for our names and, according to the translation of the driver, they wished us all the best of luck, a good trip, and a wonderful life. We left at 9:07, back to the hotel by 9:29, and I was reminded by Ken to get my passport and ticket voucher out of my suitcase, which I'd packed in preparation for doing NOTHING in the morning except dressing, eating breakfast, and leaving. Got those out by 9:33PM, relocked suitcase more easily, and got to bed at 9:39PM, sleeping almost instantly while Ken fussed about the room.

WEDNESDAY, 10/13/10: Shit at 1:45AM, reasonably normally. Up at 5:57 to Ken's trying to demand breakfast from our wake-up man, who doesn't seem to understand a word of English. Since I have nothing better to do, I dress, take down Ken's and Charley's breakfast order, and go into the driveway. Ask for the Manager, who comes out looking like he's just finished dressing, and ask to talk to the chef. She comes out knowing enough English to take our orders, which I say we want in ten minutes. No orange juice, she says, only guava juice, no milk for coffee, but she does have cheese for my omelet. Breakfast to 6:35 with three-four cups of coffee, the last two with milk that she suddenly produces. Huge omelet, which I don't finish. Car arrives just after 6:45 and we have to show our passports at the gate to the airport at 7:27AM, the driver laughingly explaining that we were too old and weak to get out of the car as the inspector had requested, because the driver thought it would just take up too much time. Lots of people in the terminal, and Ken has to open his suitcase to display his charger, which he hasn't used yet, but which he says looks like a bomb with all sorts of wires attached, so he really doesn't blame them. At 7:34 my suitcase is held aside, but when it's run through a second time, there's nothing to question. Through check-in, no reserved seats, just what's left after the passengers get out here, from Bahar Dar, and maybe other stops. Through final security: belts and shoes and wallets and watches out and passing again, at 8:15, after buying 200B Ethiopia book and chatting with a Florida travel-agent type spending 18 days checking out Ethiopia. She seemed fascinated with my indexing experiences. Race to the newly designated boarding door and get a left window seat at 8:43AM, Ken sitting next to me, Charley across the aisle at the window. Plane pretty full. Told it's 21 minutes to Lalibela. Off at 8:52AM, gradually rising above the purple pall that covers everything, and taking a few pictures of the increasingly mountainous terrain below, landing at 9:17AM. Lalibela is at 2600 meters, higher than Gondar. About 1.4 miles up. Luggage comes in on a truck outside the terminal, and guy with a cart immediately puts my bag at the bottom, and gets the bags of the other two and takes it all a fair distance to our car at 9:25. To hotel at 10:20, through stretched-out town, though Ken does say our hotel is a kilometer and a half on the other side. [First tour of churches starts at 1:45PM. Ken suggests we could start earlier, but Terre says they close for lunch.] The hotel is spectacularly sited on a hilltop overlooking a series of valleys, though flanked by other construction, some perilously close to an edge that needs serious erosion-control work. I unpack, throw out a few more bags, collapse others for later use, condense items into essentially "things" and "papers" and "valuables" like tickets and passport and vaccination forms and passport photos. Start to recharge batteries that ran out on the way to the airport this morning, and am appalled to find one of them NOT the blue type and NOT rechargeable! Tear everything apart trying to find my "pill map," finding my fourth battery in the process, but, lacking the pill map, spread out a typical day on my bed, morning above, evening below, and spill out the pills to be allotted, including the empty shell of the brown-and-tan capsule whose contents are as dust in the container. That all goes well to 11:42AM, when I move a chair to the balcony and start (at 11:46) transcribing my notes from the Nile Falls days ago. Ken drags me outside about 12 to watch the eagles flying by the top balcony. We sit watching smaller, always colorful, birds---annoyed by the German, then the Italian, conversations next to our umbrella-ed table. Sit till 12:30, when we go to the dining room for lunch. No one is interested in the three-course 120B fixed-price meal, so Ken asks for a cheese sandwich, I settle for the clear potato soup and the fruit salad, and Charley has something else. We sit for 40 minutes while Ken protests his starvation and the Manager comes over to apologize. Finally the food arrives, we eat, and go back to room at 1:33. I have a yellowish shit to 1:41, and we leave at 1:46 to the entrance to the Northwestern Group of churches at 2PM. Built in 11-12th Century AD, 11 churches: first, Beta Mohani Alum (Holy Savior), said to take 26 years to build, the group taking tens of years. At 2:16 Bethlehem: House of Bread, making communion wafers. Then House of Mary at 2:35. Ysersob (?) Sinai. Staring up at the ceiling, taking pictures, trying to keep footing on rocky and sometimes slippery paths in stocking feet, looking right, left, up, and down in rapid succession causing moments of almost dizziness or vertigo where I stagger against a wall. My minder puts out a steadying hand. Not the most comfortable feeling. Small round houses are Tukuls, or Derbs, two-layered, top room for living, bottom room for grain storage. Then to sunken, famous, St. George 3:34, 11.5 meters high, no pillars inside. Thank goodness I take lots of photos, because words simply can't do these world-wonders justice. Up at 3:56, winded. Into car at 4:13. To hotel 4:23 [8:45AM tour tomorrow]. Start transcribing about 4:45 after talking with Charley across the balcony wall, looking down at a woman walking a load of firewood up an infinite winding road. Laundry returns at 6:37, 115B for SIX shirts, pants, 5 shorts, 6 pairs of socks, and 2 T-shirts! Dinner at 7:03-8:28, having Hungarian goulash, rather peppery, pleat-bean soup (rather like pea), and papaya, and Royal Crown Tonic Water for 25B, which the waiter says we have to pay for, but when we point out it isn't alcohol, we just have to sign it for our voucher. [7:15 wake-up call tomorrow.] At 9:15 Ken insists I shut off main ceiling light and I move to sit under the entrance light. Finally catch up with these notes by 9:31PM. What a RELIEF! Churches great, interesting carved details, cute kid putting our shoes on and off, great guide with JUST the right amount of detail, lots of other tourists coming and going. Hard to take pictures, however, though my personal guide was encouraging always. Some steps slippery, some stones sharp in stocking feet. When I took my shoes off this evening, I sure smelled my feet! Good day, and hopefully one of the major churches tomorrow, though Ken is making noises about stopping at a "very special" art gallery, and AGAIN obsessing about getting Tejj with tomorrow's dinner. He DOES GO AT IT. BUT he checked that our "problematic" air connection between Axum and Entebbe ISN'T problematic, since it's a DIRECT flight from Axum to Addis, a little more than two hours before our Entebbe flight. Good for him for finding this out. Finish now at 9:35PM. Move chair back into place, find simvastatin in my "things" bag and put it back on the shelf so I can take it every night, pack up my AM pills, leaving out a Diamox for Ken (who seems to take it from his dop kit when next I visit the bathroom), put Vicks up my nose, and get to bed at 10:03PM, leaving over nine hours' sleep before a 7:15AM wake-up call.