oldie

This is a blog I wrote a while back when I first arrived, but never got around to publishing. Perhaps it explains the need for chocolate and cake that I still find compelling.

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So I made it, for the love and all. The last five months have had their moments of feeling torturous with the typical ups and downs of being without your lovely love. But I’m here. I thought the moment I saw T at the airport would be super emotional (I really thought I’d be boohooing) but actually it was just as if we’d never been apart. It just felt normal to be with him. And after two weeks, it still feels normal but fantastic all at the same time.

The best way to describe being in Addis is akin to camping, camping with extras. Daily routines aren’t quite typical – different grocery stores, different process – comforts you normally enjoy aren’t quite the same – a whore’s bath instead of a shower – some things are slightly dulled down – ketchup is actually watered down tomato paste. And at the same time, I’ve been entirely spoiled. There’s a servant culture here that definitely feels strange. The first time I had dinner at T’s dad’s house, they pushed a buzzer for the maid to come and collect the dirty dishes when we finished dinner. And I’m sure my eyes bugged out a little. So anyways, I haven’t washed a dish since I’ve been here. It feels strange to not do simple things for yourself, like get a glass of water. Instead it’s turned into a process with someone you bringing you the bottled water with a glass on a tray. One of the ladies I’ve been hanging out with, Mimi (she’s also been teaching me some Amharic), is also the same woman who brings me sandwiches and tea in the afternoon. “Ah! Don’t do that! Can’t we make the sandwiches together? And why haven’t you brought a sandwich for yourself?”

I’m starting to feel a bit braver about cruising the streets of Addis by myself. Last week it felt normal to go to the grocery store by myself and get a few things like milk and eggs. I’m still nervous about taking a taxi somewhere, especially because I don’t know the city all too well. And it’s not as if you can tell the driver an intersection – the way it works is here is according to landmarks (hotels, etc.) of which I know few. So for me to get to the other side of the city, I’d have to know what sort of landmark everyone identifies as being a ‘stop’. The other thing about being out and about is the number of people who approach you asking for money, or just want to say hi, shake your hand, etc. It can feel overwhelming, especially for a girl like me who generally likes to disappear and not be noticed. It can feel immensely sad when a tiny three year old runs along side me “hello hello one birr one birr”. Walking for about 30 minutes, it’s possible for about five people to approach you in this way. And it’s just really fucking sad. Some days I’ve got the blues only chocolate and cake can cure. Maybe that seems insincere, but it’s how I’m dealing for now. Don’t really know what else to do?