Bikepacking Ethiopia – quite a surprise

RESERVATION:
The following post will contain information that may be widely perceived as disgusting, repulsive and useless to anyone. Unfortunately, life is not Instagram and even Heidi Klum sometimes poops, and even, with all due respect, sometimes has diarrhea. I think. (I don't and I don't get it - Sylwia's note)

DISCLAIMER 2:
This is not a post about Ethiopia. Our trip lasted 11 days, we mostly limited ourselves to places with electricity and asphalt. On the other hand, there are few unpaved roads, about 10%, so it's hard to say what life looks like away from asphalt, or if there is any at all.
Ethiopia is almost 4 times larger than Poland and has a population of over 120 million. The capital alone has two million more inhabitants than Warsaw. So I am only describing what we saw and how we perceived it.

The situation is also dynamic:
In 1995, 71 percent of Ethiopians lived below the absolute poverty line.
Until recently, for a long time, Ethiopia was the fastest growing economy in the world.
Just 1.5 years ago, a two-year conflict that claimed up to 600,000 lives and displaced 2,000,000 people ended there. People who were already displaced there from surrounding countries.
According UNICEF, in July 2021, 100,000 children were close to death due to malnutrition.

So if I write on April 18, 2024 that it is safe, it does not mean that it will be safe on April 20. What's more, it does not even mean that it is actually safe, because conversations with locals suggest that we are going to places we should not be going to. People are disappearing there with the help of guerrilla militias.
*sources: "some websites on the internet" ;-)

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Ethiopia – the home of the flying daggers stones

If there is one topic the internet agrees on, it is: Ethiopia is the worst country in the world to visit with a bike. It is a country that is practically only crossed when travelling from the north to the south of Africa and is treated as a necessity. The general opinion is that the people are hostile and the children aggressive. This, combined with local conflicts, the image of the country being reduced to a boy with a protruding belly standing in front of a house made of shit in the desert and the lack of unique views/animals is enough to abandon the idea of visiting.

Most trips to Ethiopia are limited to religious place and to Omo Valley, where you can meet tribes that remind us of Africa. Painted people, plates in their mouths, stick fights, scars, whipping girls, boobs – they are supposedly the most isolated people in the world. However, considering the number of organized trips to those areas, I would say that I would feel like I was in a human zoo. On the one hand, it is “the other end of the world” and a completely abstract place, on the other: in the morning you leave your home, in the evening you can be in the center of such a village (with a bit of luck). It makes you think.

So why did we go there? I still don't know and please don't ask me about it because I'll have to go all Maćko Coelho and talk about crossing your own boundaries and leaving your comfort zone. Especially since we arrive in Ethiopia during the rainy season. Robert and I, with whom I've never been on a bike before, but about 6 years earlier we had accidentally arranged a trip to Colombia, which hasn't happened yet. Besides, it wasn't my idea at all, it was just Adam Kolarski, slapped by Robert!

But in a country ruled by Menelik I and Menelik II, things can't be bad!

The most common jokes (though I am not sure if they are jokes) about Ethiopia in bikepacking groups are:

Do you have anything against Ethiopians? No, but if I did, I would use it without mercy.

What is worth seeing and what is worth avoiding in Ethiopia? I don't know what to see, but it's definitely worth avoiding the stones thrown at you.
"ethiopia is beautiful if you don't mind abuse" (I can't translate it nicely).

From Warsaw to Ethiopia is 200 km further in a straight line than to the airport in Tenerife

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Preparation
Sometimes I feel like I've heard everything before
sometimes it seems to me that I have already read about everything
but no

Preparing for the trip was very easy, because there is no sensible information. From a safety perspective, we limited ourselves to analyzing the British equivalent of gov.pl, with information for travelers. There is a map with three colors: possible/avoidable/not possible, and we tried to stick to the “possible” regions. Why don’t I trust the Polish website? Because if I did, I wouldn’t leave home, as Prague would be marked as a “no-go” area. We only enter the “only essential travel” area when returning by bus.

The first result of searching for information about Ethiopia on the Polish internet is TVN with the text:

Hungry monkeys and warthogs attack homes in search of water and anything edible, while people defend themselves against them with sticks

Our plan is simple and a bit forced. We get off at the airport, see what it's like, leave our bags at the hotel and head south, on a spontaneously chosen route, to get to what is probably the highest road in Africa and, at the same time, see one of the most endangered animals in the world. Since I was already on Japanese Shikokuto see the Shikoku dog and Korean Jindoto see a Jindo dog, why would the idea of seeing an Ethiopian wolf in Ethiopia be a bad one?
The plan was ambitious and involved returning to the capital by bike, but the reality turned out to be somewhat surprising.

For practical information, I recommend this post (in English): https://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/page/?page_id=452548. The guy wrote 90 pages about cycling around the country, with photos, maps, tips, etc. It's just worth considering that in 2016 Ethiopia was a different country than it is today. Useful information about the national park we're heading to is here: https://balemountains.org/. If you prefer video, I recommend this guy – rides an electric recumbent bike from France to South Africa. Episodes about Ethiopia are from number 34 to 68. The vlog is one of those funny ones, because there is, for example, an episode about testing the famous raw meat, and then a week's break from broadcasting ;-)

We finish our preparations as usual by asking GPT Chat questions like: "Who would win in a fight: a bikepacker or a pack of warthogs/gorillas?". The results of the queries as usual make us more inclined to train our legs for running away than our arms for fighting.

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Too long, I don't read it

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A day at the airports.

We spent the day at the Vienna airport. We would have spent it much better if Ethiopian Airlines had asked us or at least informed us that our initial flight was being postponed for 10 hours... back. Instead of 17:00, it was 7:00. They had plenty of chances to do so, because just the day before I had spent 2 hours on the phone trying to buy a bike as luggage. It was a miracle that I looked at the departures board online and noticed that the flight we had a ticket for was not on. 

That day Robert taught me a new negotiation strategy: "don't ask, don't investigate, do". Thanks to this, 4 flights of our bikes (including two intercontinental) on 2 different airlines cost a total of PLN 500/bike.

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Ow, my lungs.

We arrive in Addis Ababa around 7am on Saturday and are greeted by a group of dancing Ethiopians. I really like it because it looks like someone is telling them to run in place. This explains why Ethiopia is the cradle of running. Ethiopian dances they are great. Eskitsa for example, it looks like the effect of sticking wet fingers into a socket. Besides, Ethiopian people are generally very pretty, especially the ladies.

With arrivals to Africa it's a bit like COVID. The initial hours are like the beginning of a pandemic - our hands are sticky from the alcohol disinfectant. Just a moment later, we're already replacing like a real local guys, cutlery with bread. Generally bread (or its local equivalent – injira, which is a cross between pita and mold) serves as a rag to grab onto.

Then everything is very simple and happens by itself. Someone invites us to a currency exchange office, where we get 2 kilograms of money each. We buy unlimited internet for 5$/week. Then the bags with the bikes arrive, we put everything together at the airport and about 2 hours after landing we are ready for the adventure. Walking out in front of the airport in Addis Ababa is a similar experience to walking naked in front of Okęcie – all eyes on us. The plan to walk to the hotel on foot to leave the luggage disappears from our minds as quickly as it appeared, i.e. after about 100 meters of pushing the bike and suitcase at the same time. We end up in the hotel taxi parking lot. Two Farendji with suitcases and bikes worth tens of thousands in an Ethiopian parking lot makes us feel like that guy who was carrying bags of gifts in a car with alloy wheels and a wallet full of dollars. Someone asks where our hotel is, someone calls him and orders transport, someone helps us pack, someone wants money for help, which we don't give him. It's a bit stupid, because after all they helped quite a lot.

At the reception we ask to store our suitcases, we inform them that we will return in a week and elo. Nobody wants anything, we all take each other's word for it.

When it comes to cycling around the capital, I think I can compare it to the description he once used przemekzawada.comto illustrate the raids: "EVERYTHING IN YOU IS FUCKED UP". It really is: people, tuk-tuks, buses, trucks, cars, goats, horses, people, unimaginable smog and holes where you could survive a nuclear attack.

We stop somewhere to eat and discover that from that point on, everything is going to be harder than we thought. It's not even about the fact that it will be our last meal for the next 10 hours. In fact, I didn't mention to Robert that I forget to eat and drink while driving, and he forgot that it's worth talking about such things, which results in a rather difficult evening. It's about the fact that you can't say "something nice and big" in restaurants. You have to specify exactly what you want, even if there's no menu. So for a week we eat injira and pasta alternately, because we can't think of anything else. Google Translate directed at the menu suggests that the alternatives are e.g. "a crumb of hay„, „fasting meeting" and "dirty crumb with vegetables". The good thing is that there is no problem with shops during the trip. It is true that there is practically nothing in the shops, but you can buy water or Coke.

It's not an easy day. We spend it in something that resembles the Świętokrzyskie region, only the hills are a bit bigger. Most of the time we can see, for example, the 3,000-meter-high Mount Zuqualla volcano. In addition, there are lots of cows, goats, donkeys, fields and people shouting "czajna!" at us. It's one of those days that Rober summed up well with the statement:

“Planning routes from your desk at home is like shopping when you’re hungry.”

Robert

I don't know at what point it seemed to me that choosing Butajira, some 140 kilometres away, as a potential destination would be a good idea. Especially after a day of travelling. I was probably sitting comfortably in front of my computer with a coffee and a biscuit in my hand. We were actually doing quite well, until the moment when we suddenly stopped going altogether. It was getting dark, we had a few kilometres left to the city, but a 200-metre climb loomed ahead of us. However, the Ethiopian God sent us a lady in the middle of nowhere frying huge dumplings with lentils (I think). They were the best dumplings I've ever made. Of course, health and safety regulations were observed. The lady handed them to me through a rubbish bag, and I caught them with my cycling glove. Of course, it didn't matter, my skin was so dry that no bacteria, viruses or fungi could survive on it. I only had one thing on my mind - to eat a few grams of food.

We stop at the first hotel we come across – it looks quite fancy (for the area). They want 55$ for our heads, but as is the case in decent hotels: they have a problem with the bike. A bike is not a person, it cannot sleep in a hotel. They even offer to store it in the car, but the thought of taking and carrying luggage forces us to continue searching. If you think that in a place where everyone shouts at you, smiles and asks where you are going, it is easy to ask the question “where is the hotel?” – you are very wrong. I mean, it is possible to ask it, but understanding the answer is beyond my abilities. Finally, we get to the hotel Kassech Fekadu Assore (I think). It has everything you need, including a restaurant. As befits an Ethiopian restaurant, as in any other, the Premier League is broadcast. Robert uses his no-question technique and, despite some minor objections, brings his bike into the room. He demonstrated that it was possible and from that day on, everyone else, including me, could enter there with their bikes. I suspect that this year, apart from me, there will be around zero volunteers. Since we are exhausted to a solid 8 on a 10 scale, Robert asks if all days will be like this, and I am afraid to tell the truth. Because believe it or not, I have never been on a bike with him before :-)

My lungs were never the same after that day. I still cough up sand and smog.

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The countryside and real Africa

Every time we enter an area that resembles our idea of Africa, we state that this is the "real Africa". Surely the people we met a moment earlier, in a city in the middle of Ethiopia, which is in the middle of Africa, would appreciate our statement. After all, they, according to us, white people in Poland, do not live in the real Africa. It's a bit like two Ethiopians came to Bytom and said: "Oh! Real Poland!" (sorry Bytom).

The second day has more dignity. It is true that we get confused right when leaving the hotel and go in the wrong direction, and then we miss the planned turn a few times, but maybe it's for the best, because there probably weren't any reflective asphalts anyway. Any attempt to break through to the parallel road, which is supposed to lead us to the best lakes in the country, ends in terrain that exceeds our capabilities. A week later we learn that it's a good thing, because these areas are considered by lokalsów for "foolish", as you can be kidnapped by partisans, for example.

It's a good thing, because that day we're running away from the blacks in swarms clouds, and if one of the showers caught us in the field, we would stay there forever. During the trip we are definitely luckier than we deserve. We improvise a route to a town that on the maps looks like it could have an overnight stay and we drive through DOS-KO-NAŁE areas. It's not even about the landscape, but about "civilization". We feel like we are in an open-air museum prepared for tourists. The only difference is that I can't imagine why any tourist would ever be in this place. The name of the region obliges, it is: Region of Nations, Nationalities and Peoples of the South.

We finish our ride after 115 kilometers in the town of Alba Kulito. We are lucky again, because a moment later a downpour comes, so much so that the power goes out. Several large trucks from the World Food Program are parked in front of our hotel. In the evening we still manage to go for a walk, looking for bananas, and in this way we generate about 100 new friends, and probably 7 wives and a group of children, who follow us and call Aba (which seems to mean "daddy"). It's nice to stop being Chinese from time to time. The main motive of the walk was to find a restaurant for a second dinner, but these are really not easy topics. So we eat pasta for the second time, in the hotel restaurant.

It was a wonderful day, I will never forget it.

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Too much Africa.

The morning is quite gloomy. The asphalt breaks off more and more often, even though we are heading, as one might conclude from the map, on one of the main roads to Shashamane. Since the name is exceptionally difficult, and the question "where are you going?" is asked on average every minute, Robert tells everyone that we are going to shakshuka, for which he wins the award for the rusk of the year. The road is exceptionally difficult, dusty, traffic is minimal as usual, but in the vicinity of the town it becomes very troublesome. I really feel sorry for the people living in the towns by the road - I would get pneumoconiosis after one day. My eyes are stinging, my throat is scratchy, you can't stand, because to put it not very diplomatically - it is very African. Each of the towns we pass looks as if God had jammed the "add" button. There are too many people, too many animals, tuk-tuks and everything in general.

I have the impression that the less you know, the less you are afraid. A few days later we find out that this is not a very safe road for cycling. In particular, apparently the area around the town of Aje, where Robert decides to get a flat on a descent. You would like to say that tubeless vs. inner tubes are 1:0, but that's not true. I ride with milk sprayed all over my front tire. Robert changes the inner tube once during the entire trip, and my front tire is sprayed about 5 times (although it seals itself each time). The conclusion is that we still don't know which is better. What we do know is that about 15 seconds later we look like a Gassy set-up. One guy changes a flat tire, and 15 watch. Fortunately, as befits Ethiopia, all the guys are super friendly. Everyone touched the tire (just like we always kick the wheel of our car to check if it's good), everyone asked for a photo.

We arrive in Shakshouka completely exhausted, on a reserve. We imagine that with a population of >200,000 we will immediately drop into a nice pub. I will say this: it is even worse than it was. Now you can't even ride a bike, because everything is everywhere. The queue for a petrol station, for example, is, at a rough estimate, 50 tuk-tuks long. Interestingly, the city is considered the cradle of Rastafarians. There is even a festival here that attracts Jamaicans.

We stop at what looks like a diner. We ask the nice guy if it's OK there. The guy honestly explains that it probably isn't and directs us to what is probably the most exclusive hotel in town. Somewhere in the meantime, a guy who wants money and starts hugging too much wanders in. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his hand getting closer to my back pockets. Our guys who recommend food also notice and discreetly shoo the guy away, making sure he doesn't come back with rocks. Generally, the bigger the city, the more likely you are to encounter pests. On the plus side, unlike Morocco, for example, there's a nice feeling that people around you will help. When kids get too intense, the adults shoo them away, as do pests and probably anyone else who wants to make our lives miserable.

The hotel we arrive at is wonderful. It has a clean bathroom, good food, avocado juice, a security guard looking after the bikes and everything is beautiful. Everything, except our shape, because we look like people who have come out of a sandstorm and we definitely do not want to start the climb that awaits us just outside the city: from 1900 meters to 2600m. Especially since it is already afternoon and the sky is starting to get dark. black African-American, something even thunders in the distance. We only have 60 kilometers in our legs, but it took us almost 4 hours to cover them. We decide to take a trip, a slightly roundabout route to Hawassa - it's an additional 50km.

As it turns out, Hawassa is surprisingly large – it has over 400,000 inhabitants. It is a city that can be considered a substitute for a resort – hotels, restaurants, civilization, a large lake, and even a promenade by the water. But let's not get carried away: Hawassa may be cool, but the road from Shakshuka to Hawassa is also a masterpiece. Small villages surrounded by green mountains make us feel like we are in a completely different country. After many hours of looking at fields, it is a nice change and an introduction to the mountain part of the trip.

The city greets us with a stuntman. We arouse quite a lot of interest, so drivers sometimes stare at us too much. One of them pushes a motorcyclist who hits the curb and performs a spectacular salto mortale. Even a German judge would give him a score of 19.5 for this flight. The guy gets up (which probably doesn't mean mortale), and we, unfazed, speed up a bit and pretend we didn't see anything.

We arrive at our lodgings just as a storm begins. I have no idea why we choose the Progress Hotel, which is right by the lake. I read in some random report from a random person on the internet that it was cool. It doesn't matter that there were plenty of much better-looking lodgings around, we decide on this one. There's a good chance that when the person wrote his report, they weren't there yet, because they look new and luxurious (for local conditions). As a bonus, we have monkeys waiting for any mistake we make. The customer who gave 3/5 stars on Google Maps because monkeys stole his drinks probably didn't know that.

In the evening we go to the promenade to annoy the locals. To our surprise, Lake Hawassa is the best place in the country to watch hippos. There are loads of guides at the “port” just waiting for people like us, because the peak tourist season seems to be exactly the opposite of when we arrived. Each of them suggests a trip to watch hippos, the only problem is that these hippos have swum to us themselves and the deal doesn’t make much sense. We are like people who come to the cinema with their popcorn. We spend the evening having a romantic dinner on the shore of the lake. That is, the first half of it, because I try to negotiate the second half at the reception so that a taxi can drop us off in Shakshuka in the morning. It is 20 km, which we exceptionally do not want to cover, because it leads along the main road from Addis to Nairobi… and it is uphill.

The whole process of arranging a taxi takes about an hour and a half, and I still feel like nothing has been done. In the meantime, two guys arrive in a yellow Suzuki Swift with flames on the doors. They say they can tie the bikes with a rope and we'll get there for about 3,000 (210 PLN). I say two is the maximum. They get offended and leave immediately. Negotiations in Ethiopia are easy.

I go to bed leaving a note: we will be waiting at 7:00 in the parking lot. That is, at 1:00, because in order to make life more difficult, in Ethiopia the international and local time is in force, shifted by 6 hours (zero hour is 6:00 when the sun rises). To make it even funnier, while it is 2024 here, it is still 2016 there. I have the impression that the reception knew how to order a taxi, but they wanted to make the deal of a lifetime on us.

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The seven headed beast the false messiah is coming
Armageddon slaughterhouse electric chairs
Even a crucified carpenter won't help you today
All the battles of this world were just a foretaste
this is the beginning of the end.

Let's say that the taxi somehow manages. It's true that it didn't arrive very quickly, and the number of checks along the way means that it would have been faster by bike, but it's always a new adventure. In contrast to the breakfast we eat in the same luxury hotel as the day before. We already know that this will probably be the last meal until evening, because it's really not easy to eat something on the way.

The day seems very simple: 30 kilometers up and then a few dozen down, until we get bored or find a reasonable place to spend the night. The road is great and the views are very good. Once again, we are surrounded by a completely new landscape, because now it is mainly forests. Slightly different than here, because instead of mulch, grass grows. Carefully trimmed with goat shears (just a joke, because goats). Somewhere after exceeding the height of 2500 meters, the forests disappear and again fields, hills, masses of animals and houses made of shit appear. On one of the descents, we encounter the only unpleasant situation during the bike ride - some youngsters jump out onto the road and throw a stick so that it just lands in the spokes of the front wheel. Good thing the stick is probably bamboo and bends easily.

On the way we stopped for Cola, which is not very popular here – Fanta rules. While searching, we ran into a place that seemed to be a pub and looked nice because there were about 10 guys with guns sitting there. They explained nicely that there was no food or Cola in the area (even though there was one in a stand exactly 20 meters away), we high-fived and drove on. Two days later we were again informed that this was one of the “problematic” cities where you can meet not very peaceful partisans. However, we stick to the version that it was the police… for the sake of internal peace. Roadside patrols also stop us disturbingly often, but mainly to chat and find out what’s going on with us.

Around the 80th kilometer there is a large city – Dodola. We stop in a restaurant hidden behind a fence, thanks to which we have peace and quiet. We start to consider whether to look for a place to stay (which is not particularly easy) or to take a risk and keep going. Contemplation combined with trying to wait out the rain that never came lasts for about two hours. Robert asks a nice waitress if he can take a photo of her serving pasta or a complicated ritual of brewing coffee. She says no, he takes a photo from a secret place, she notices it and, I bet, she curses me. I mean, it is not visible in any way, but I feel the curse. When we set off, the black clouds billowing behind us motivate us to drive fast, but I have even greater motivation. Robert still thinks that the thunder and lightning are a storm chasing us. I know that it is pasta in my stomach. This is the beginning of an unforgettable adventure… I was sure that it would be the last in my life.

30 kilometers later we reach the town of Adaba. The last one where, according to the maps, we can expect a hotel. And indeed, we stand in front of a place with a large sign saying “Hotel". 10 minutes of explaining that we want to use "hotel” comes to nothing. It turns out that the hotel actually exists and you can stay there, but you can't sleep... or something like that. In my head, there appear black dark thoughts, because the pasta is starting to get more and more urgent. A random passer-by decides to help us and leads us to something that looks like a workers' hotel. Single rooms, shared bathroom, no signage, 20zł per night - that's enough. We have no alternatives.

In the evening we go to the city in search of bananas. We only find some, which we decide to leave almost intact in the room the next day. Trying to get information from anyone about where to eat also comes to nothing. So we eat another pasta in a random place. This is the last straw... if you know what I mean.

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The end. The Lord Jesus is already knocking.
There's nothing like a holiday adventure
I was in a good mood in the morning
And the weather was so sunny
He was a good boy, what a pity

The night is unforgettable. I load up on stoperan for shitting, nifuroksazydna for bacteria, ibuprom for pain and fever, electrolytes for water, asertin for a good mood, probiotics for digestion, banana for I don't know what, but the effects are quite deplorable. The only things missing in the set are: Prozac - for the will to live, Geriavit - for not aging, Memotropil - for better functioning of brain metabolism and etopirin - prophylactically.

Around 3 am Elon Musk calls me to consult what exactly I ate, because it turns out that my body has become a more efficient drive than his rockets. You could say: like the Mississippi on fire. But generally it's not bad, kebabs have taught me a lot in life. In the morning, apart from the fact that I'm sleepy, it's quite good. I get dressed, go with my bike to Robert's room and immediately feel as if someone had pulled the plug from the power supply. My color changes to such a degree that it seems reasonable to check whether they don't cut off body parts from albinos in Ethiopia.

It quickly turns out that I can ride a bike, but no further than about 2-3 meters. The Earth is spinning faster, the temperature felt is about -10°C, even though the thermometer shows over 20°C. It's bad. A person has been riding a bike for so many years and has suffered for so many years after kebabs, and still forgets about the basic things: the amount of fluid excreted must be similar to the amount of fluid absorbed. I forgot about it and I am left with googlać "dehydration".

If it's not diarrhea, it's a charm. I choose the worst possible day for such an adventure. Not only is our overnight stay a bed in a room that could be used to hold Sergeant Brody in Homeland, the shared toilet is a hole in the floor, and as a cherry on the cake, it's the last day of Ramadan. There are so many people on the street that it's pointless to even think about trying to get around by bike. Our route is about 100km to the nearest hotel, through nothingness, with a peak at 3600 meters.

I'm sitting in shop I remember the old days in the pub,
I'm about to close the door and two white guys come in,
One higher, the other a little lower, sweatshirts hoods t-shirts, white people with no money
What do you want is how can I help you
I talk to them even though I think I'm already home
The smaller son from under the hood tells me that they are looking for smoke generators transport to Goba, 4 hours away.

We find a car on the side of the road (which is not easy), we ask about the owner. At the idea of giving us a lift to Goba, his eyes widen and he says: 50,000 (or about 3,500 PLN). I quickly calculate how much my life is worth... it turns out not that much. In the meantime, someone offers to take me to the pharmacy of their own free will. A moment of thought and we come to the conclusion that fifty sounds too similar to fifteen, so that what we heard was true. I don't know if it's Robert's negotiation skills or if the guy wanted 15,000 (i.e. a thousand) from the beginning - I'm too busy holding a plumb line to analyze it. We strike a deal and go to the ATM. In this way we discover why sometimes there is a queue in front of the bank to the horizon. There is no money in the ATM. Mrs. God takes pity on us and it turns out that if we spend everything we have, we will still have 50 PLN. We set off in the Hilux on a several-hour journey. Along the way, great mountains, wastelands, baboons, antelopes and warthogs.

I'm considering writing a death poem, like a true Japanese guy. I'd like to include a joke about us crossing the Great Rift Valley, but nothing rhymes with "piecze" either.

One thing is for sure: if I tried to ride my bike across it, my body would never be found. I can only hum in my head:

The Lord Jesus is coming,
He's already knocking on my door,
I will run to greet Him,
My heart trembles with joy

Everything else is shaking too, I consider putting on a down jacket like a real, rich Ethiopian. To the hotel (Wabe Shebele Recreation – 50USD per room) we arrive around 2 p.m. We exchanged our money at the reception dollars, we eat dinner, go for a dozen liters of water and collapse into bed. During a shopping trip we meet an exceptionally talkative guy. We try to find out anything from him: about the national park, about buses, about accommodation, but according to local tradition, the guy knows nothing. That is, he explains something, but his words do not make much sense. Instead, he expresses admiration for our courage, that we are walking around the area so casually. This is probably helped by the fact that Robert is about half the size of the average Ethiopian.

Exchanging dollars is great because most people who exchange money use the exchange rate on our phones. This whole end of Ramadan thing also results in a big party at our hotel. We sit down for a moment at the entrance and become celebrities like Taylor Swift. Everyone greets us, we take pictures together, we appear on Tik Tok and generally it's crazy. I decide that I will never be famous and popular in my life. It's a drama if it lasts longer than 5 minutes. Anonymity and being an ordinary person it's great.

I'm not sure what the rest of the day looks like. All I remember is that I don't have the strength to even reach for water - I probably have the longest sleep of my life, interspersed with drinking. In the morning I wake up as a new person - amazing. I drank about 4 liters during the night and didn't pee once (I have a strange feeling that tens of thousands of people will read the fact that I didn't pee one night).

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On the 7th day he rose from the dead.
Yesterday was a busy day, lots of pawns nailed, but somehow in the hearts there's an emptiness, Home, home, home, is calling me, the white man misses me

I monitor myself to see if everything is OK. I am still there, although less!

My body deserves praise. How it is that after a day of, excuse me, shitting and eating one small meal I have the strength to do anything never ceases to amaze me. And it won't be an easy day: it's a key day of this trip.

We meet for the first time at breakfast white non-African-American people. They are two girls from Switzerland who came to ride bikes. I am almost certain that their presence is still the result of my poisoning yesterday. They came here with their bike guide, who rides with them and drives them in a pick-up truck between the most interesting places – also cool, I could do that. The plus is that the route is short today: about 50-60 km. He, he, he…

The first 25 km are an uphill. We have to significantly exceed the barrier of 4000 meters - I have never been that high. The uphill is one of those very pleasant and scenic, until the point where it is no longer pleasant and you have to walk the bike. It is probably a combination of health, altitude and inclination, because the surface, although gravel, is surprisingly good. The uphill is nice, because we can still see the point from which we started.

Somewhere around the 20th kilometer, a bit before reaching the plateau, there is a park ranger booth. The gentlemen greet us and ask for tickets. Allow me to swear, but the expressions on both of our faces are: WHAT^fuck. The guy explains to us that he doesn't sell tickets and we have to go back to Dinsho - it's almost 100 kilometers: tickets are only available there. To better understand how we're covering kilometers: we covered those 20 kilometers in about 3.5 hours. Robert does it his way - he pays the guy for entry as much as the entry costs (totaling about 15 PLN). The guy pretends to call someone, sort something out and promises that we'll get the bill tomorrow. Spoiler alert: we didn't get it. I don't know if we got permission, but I follow Robert, who simply drove on.

The plateau is strong. If it weren't for the fact that the horizon is eating up the clouds, I would never have said we were that high. Success: we see the Ethiopian Kaberu that we came here to look for. Too bad it's run over in the middle of the road. I'm not sure if that counts. A bit further on, however, a live specimen crosses our path - it's hunting a local marmot (also endemic). Trip done, all that's left is to survive. Small goals in life, although as I already know, not as easy as it might have seemed a few days earlier.

In most of the country, the heaviest rain of the year falls in April. We, of course, arrive in mid-April.

The weather is nice, sometimes the sun shines, sometimes it hails, sometimes it thunders behind us. It's tough going to the point that I fall during one of the stops because I forget to unclip my shoe. A few kilometers later I discover that it's not my fault after all - from that moment on I ride without a cleat in my shoe. I had one job, his mother. He prepared the bike for me so beautifully velo warsaw, I bought myself a suitcase, thanks to which I only unscrew the wheels on my bike for transport. The blocks are the only screws that I screwed on myself before leaving. Well done me.
On the one hand, I feel a bit sorry for the T-shirt, which has two new holes, and I'm riding in it for the third time in my life, on the other hand - it's not that bad. Someone will point out to me one day that I'm riding in a holey one, and I'll tell them that these are traces of a capsize at 4100m above sea level in the Ethiopian mountains. It almost sounds like a scar from Vietnam. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a local bus just took a pee break. The locals catch up with us and we're stars again. Tik Tok. Abstraction thousand.

Perfect cut.

Further on there is only a descent, which in terms of views and road conditions is no worse than the Alps. The only difference is the gravel and the fact that trucks carrying humanitarian aid pass us by. The village where we initially planned to spend the night definitely does not look like the village where we would like to spend the rest of the day. I remember that a bit further on there is a haven of luxury and wealth - a resort, the prices of which a month ago I laughed a lot - it was about 320 USD per room. Well, if you are the only one staying overnight in the national park, you can dictate the terms. The condition of the road down is such that it could not be worse, so we abandon the idea of risking pushing further south. In fact, I do not know if it can be called a road anymore, since even the equipment used to build it overturns here.

We turn off the main road and follow the signs. The security guard lets us into the resort. There is indeed a reception, a kitchen, a dining room, a few cottages – there are just no people at all. No one. Like in the Chernobyl movies. It doesn't bother us, we pull out black hour sausages and decide not to move from the sofas on which we have fallen. A quick review of the available literature shows us that with a bit of luck (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it), you can encounter less typical animals on the roads we travel – a lion, for example.

An hour later a man shows up, three of them in fact – one of them white! He is the only guest at the centre. He arrived a day before us, he is leaving in 2 days. A man from Dubai, who ended up where we were because it is supposedly one of the best places in Africa for bird watching. He has his notebook where he notes what species he has seen – a man encyclopedia. It is just a shame that he lost his luggage, which had all his photographic equipment in it. Well, if someone tries to bring in prohibited binoculars, they have to expect that airport security will not let them through. Although, in fact, no one wrote anywhere that binoculars are not allowed.

We spend the evening looking at the perfect mountains and chatting over dinner. The manager of the resort speaks excellent English, but the main interesting thing we take away is that we should be happy that we managed to get there by traveling on roads that are not traveled on. However, we turn a blind eye to it, as we always do when local he talks about places hundreds of kilometers away. He also goes into political and economic topics, but I'll leave that for you to read on other blogs. Interestingly, this is the last day we sat on bikes.

It's nice to eat, talk, and look around, Chill, sleep in clean sheets. When I grow up, I think I'll become a luxurious, white, civilized tourist visiting such places.

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Do you want to see a bird?

In the morning let's go with our dubai colleague on a trip organized by the hotel. It turns out that in addition to unlimited drinks and 2 meals, the price includes a guided trip - we go to see a waterfall. What's so great about it, I still don't know, but it doesn't bother me at all, because we also go through a bamboo forest. An additional attraction is that Robert is walking in SPDs, and I'm in borrowed, 3 sizes too small Wellington boots. They probably gave me those on purpose. So that I could get Buerger. So that it would squeeze our, my, legs, ladies, veins, block the blood circulation and in three months, ladies, Buerger. And more amputations, feet cut, knees cut, thighs. But not me! Those yellow the little ones are too skinny yellow ears – I spend half the day with my fingers tucked under me, so I'm safe!

Yes, I walk through the jungle in rubber boots borrowed from an Ethiopian. The walk is also a new experience, because our companions constantly listen for birds and exchange difficult names. I would really like to be able to say something more about a bird than: big/small/colorful... Limiting myself to these three adjectives does not allow me to appreciate the multitude of endemic specimens that we encounter.

At the end of the day our guide takes us across the plateau to the hotel where we spent the night the day before. On the way we see more animals that I can't appreciate meeting (for example a blue goose(?)). We also meet a family of caberu that we were looking for the day before! We don't want to get close to them because they have a hard enough life as it is. The fact that we saw 4.5 representatives is more than satisfying.

On the way we stop at the bus station to buy tickets. Our driver introduces us to the king parking lot station. He introduces himself as Escobar and issues us tickets at 35zł per person. He also suggests that we arrive well in advance of departure and that he will help us in the morning.

It's a bit surprising, because our seat numbers are clearly written on the ticket. In the morning, however, it stops being surprising – we don't realize what awaits us.

It's hard for me to say what condition we're in when we get the bikes out of the trunk. After a few hours of riding in the sand in a car with a broken rear window, our gear consists of 70% from dust and 15% from the actual bike and luggage.

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How long can a carbon bike last?
Servicemen hate him.

Answer: A lot.

Somewhere between 4 and 5 they wake me up allah songs from the loudspeaker in the city – a normal topic in cities. I would say “shouting”, but in a religious context it is not appropriate. Besides, they are incredibly catchy. So I start each day humming “Allahu Akbar” to myself in the bathroom. God would be proud, although I don’t know if he is the right one. Ethiopia is quite well divided between Christians and Muslims – as you can easily guess, this is not an optimal situation in the context of local conflicts. It is worth adding here that Ethiopia is considered not only the cradle of humanity, but also of Christianity. It is one of the first Christian countries in the world and churches built “downwards” (carved into the ground) instead of upwards are one of the main attractions of the country. That is, they were until the conflict over the Tigray region broke out. The village may not have a road or brick houses, but it does not prevent it from having an impressive mosque.

It's not easy to get out of the hotel at 5:15 – the reception is closed, the gate is locked. The security guard quickly finds us, but, following the tradition of "everything is difficult", he can't come to an understanding with the manager sleeping in one of the rooms. So we use Robert's technique: we give the security guard 50 USD for the night, ask him to open the gate and leave as if nothing had happened.

Nothing is easy after that – at 5:30 we report in the dark at the station, which is basically a courtyard. Escobar shows us our bus, takes another thousand (70zl) for the bikes and tells us to stand by the bus. For the second thousand we don't get any paper, of course, but come on, talk in a place like this. There are about a hundred people around us and two hundred bags of luggage.

A little before 6 we manage to get our bikes on the roof. By “get” we mean someone throws them in, ties them with string and weighs them down with bags of grain. I can’t imagine that the bikes will survive this ride, despite the fact that they’ve been valiantly preparing them for this for the past few days. I hope that the potential buyer of my bike from the future isn’t reading this. Of course, our spots are already taken, but we manage to sit right by the door, with room for our legs. A moment later we understand our mistake.

To be honest, apart from the guy standing not far from us and giving off the worst stench I've ever smelled, we're the worst dressed and least well-groomed in the area. After all, a trip to the capital! While we're sitting there, all we have to do is wait for the sentence to be carried out, which has already been passed, in the queue under the bus. The guy comes in behind us and stands next to us. So I'm temporarily adding to the short list of cells in life: don't puke. I have to admit with sadness that many Ethiopians smell of a problem with access to clean water. By the way, I remind you that the water situation "here" is not fun either. As I write these words, tankers are carrying water to Barcelona from Valencia because of record droughts. The guy left just as quickly as he entered when it turned out that no one had money for him.

It takes about 10 hours to cover 400 kilometers. The roads are different: from the highway near the capital, through high mountains, to holes that would make our European bus fall apart. There are plenty of stops along the way: tire service, break lunch, security checks with luggage searches, during which you have to leave the vehicle (except for women, children and white people). It also turns out that when driving on gravel, the space next to the not-so-tight doors is not optimal.

In Addis we get off in the afternoon. The first shot in the face comes immediately. Someone helps me get my bike off the roof and wants 200 birr (14zł) for it – without that he doesn’t want to give it back. Tired and bored I yank the bike out of his hands, tell him no and leave. Several parts of the bike are bent, the tire is flat, and the object flying outside the window a few hours earlier turned out to be my water bottle and its holder. We ride from the hotel, stopping at a good restaurant on the way. I won’t mention cycling around Addis, slippery shoes without cleats don’t make life any easier. It also doesn’t make it any easier that I haven’t had a drink in the last 10 hours (as part of learning from mistakes). At this age, my bladder isn’t what it used to be, and I doubt the bus will make a hygienic break especially for me. There was one on the way: the local toilets are holes in the ground located in hut-like houses. I know full well that I would ignore the sign saying "please do everything crouching", so the room is so low that I have to crouch anyway. Since I am half the height of everything around me, I have to crouch even more, which is not easy. The advantage is that if there are no boards, they do not fall down, so it is still better than in PKP.

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Capital: አዲስ አበባ, or "New Flower"
These abnormal views are normal for us, after all, we are already abnormal.

We spend our last day in the capital, because our flight is not until late in the evening. As it turns out, it will be delayed by an hour anyway, so we will not make it to our connecting flight in Stockholm, and our luggage will be stuck there for two days. I will not write about Addis itself - it is Sunday, so almost everything is closed. So we buy a supply of coffee and visit the local equivalent of Starbucks. It is great, because there are three options: large coffee, small coffee, macchiato. There are also no tables and everyone drinks standing up. It must be admitted that the country takes the subject of coffee super seriously.

The city has one foot in our "civilization" and one in "deep Africa." There are definitely more homeless people and beggars than on our route. In fact, infinitely more, because we didn't see any along the route. They are also definitely more aggressive, which makes walking not necessarily a pleasure. On the other hand, there are also districts of skyscrapers, offices, Western shops, decent cars and, of course, cafes and restaurants where people watch the Premier League.

Our hotel reservation is considered invalid. We are not able to rent one room for two people. Since homosexuality is a serious crime in Ethiopia, some hotels do not allow two men to stay in one room. I do not know if this is the case, but we have to take two separate rooms.

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Summary of a text as tiring as a trip

I will not recommend Ethiopia to anyone. There are certainly many nicer, cleaner and safer places in the world. I hope that after reading this text everyone knows whether this is a place they would like to see. For me, it was worth it. The difference between my imagination built on the combination of the poem "Bambo the Negro" and the reports on the Internet was colossal. The biggest difference in my life. Ethiopians turned out to be probably the friendliest people I have ever met. It's just a pity that most of the time I was Chinese.

But do you know what's most beautiful about such trips? Returning home. Because it's supposedly less than two weeks, but it feels like a month or more. You remember how great your own bed is, your bathtub, the bakery by your house and that no one cares about you. Generally, someone sits in the office smiling. I don't know if that's what vacations are all about, but I like it. The Schrute family has a word for this state: Perfect Schlag. "Aldi, Biedronka, Żabka, Carrefour, Tesco, Rossmann" – it's beautiful. Achieving it in the greyness of everyday life is something I wish for everyone. Trips like this help with that.