Khartoum, Sudan - Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll!!!

The more I'm out in the real world the more I'm convinced that it's soccer that is the glue that holds the world together. Well, it holds Africa together at least.

The hotel is kind of an interesting place. The guests are more like tenants. It seems more like a low cost apartment building than a hotel. Too bad the guests are all men...

The hotel is 5 floors. On the roof is the TV room. The boys like watching al-Jazeera (or some other news channel) and old Arabic movies. But what really draws a packed roof is a televised soccer game. Last night's game was a match between two local teams. Not an empty seat in the house. You could cut the tension with a knife. A lot of head clutching after scoring chances (I never clutch my head when watching hockey...). Minutes from the end of the game, one of the teams scored the decisive goal. The crowd on the roof went berserk. Seconds later, another huge roar erupted from the surrounding buildings. Surreal... Next thing I knew, a human wave of revelers came spreading down the road in front of the hotel. That was just a local game for chrissakes...

It was just slightly cooler today (about 36C). What a relief. Like everywhere in the Islamic World, government offices, banks and such were closed. Good thing the local shwarma shop was open. I thought I'd catch a cab to watch some whirling dervishes at a far away mosque. I've seen them already in Turkey. After being blasted by the noon hour heat, I lost my motivation.

I really have to haul ass tomorrow. First the alien registration. Then I have to take care of business at the train station.

Think I can get done?

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 11/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - A Betty Crocker Oven with a View...

It was crazy hot in the room last night. Something like 38C. The walls retain a lot of heat. There's something in the mattresses that made me itch. So, I'm sleeping on my sleep pad (not good because the springs poke through). Anyway, it's difficult to get any kind of rest, especially when I woke up in a pool of my own sweat with great frequency.

Suffice to say, I'm trying to stay out of the room. I tend to hide in the internet cafe across the way for some of its sweet air conditioning. I know. That's pathetic.

Today I started early with the tasks at hand, hoping to avoid moving around in the heat of day. Went to change money (they profess not to like America but they sure like it's cash). At the first bank, the security guy referred me to his friend "the moneychanger" and not the Bank of Khartoum which, according to him did not perform foreign exchange. Yah, whatever...

Then I tried to find the alien registration office. Tourists are suppose to register within a few days of entry into the country. They moved it. Swell. This snafu will be troublesome because I'm not sure where it is on my map. Got the security guy to write down in Arabic the name of the registration office. I hope that will help...

After the registration debacle, I started to wilt from the heat. It was almost noon. I had to find something to drink fast. Heat exhaustion is a killer. I had to quickly duck into a dark cool internet cafe.

Not a productive day. To top it off, I tried quizzing the hotel reception on the whereabouts of the train to Wadi Halfa. With my pathetic Arabic and the receptionist's pathetic English, nothing intelligent came out of that conversation. He did find a resident of the hotel that might be able to help me. a really old guy (perhaps in his eighties?), a retired professor. He spoke English! (According to him, it was not uncommon for his generation to understand English because of the colonization. He said to forget about the current generation of Sudanese wrt English.) He directed me to the train ticket office, AND wrote down in Arabic the phrase I needed to help me find it. What a swell guy. That's until I followed his directions and found that the train services had move and now were all centralized in North Khartoum.

I gave up, for today.

I've been using the fact that I'm Chinese more often. Of course, I'm ethnically Chinese but not nationally Chinese, a fact that doesn't seem to matter to most Sudanese. I'm not ashamed. Anything to gain an advantage or be seen in better light is good. Today, I was called a "sendeega" at the railway station. It's supposed to be a term of endearment (meaning "friend") applied to the supposed 5 million Chinese (PRC) expats living here and "helping" out the Sudanese by making their country a better place. Surprisingly, I haven't seen a Chinatown, or Chinese-run laundry or restaurant, yet...

I was buying some detergent when the vendor asked me if I knew how to speak in English. That was hilarious because I had been speaking to him in English for a least a minute beforehand. I guess "sendeegas" can't speak English...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 10/07
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Gedaref to Khartoum, Sudan...In search of a pharmaceutical factory...

During the bus ride to Khartoum, the guy next to me, Asser, gave me a lesson in basic Arabic. These types of lessons are way better than any phrasebook translations in my book. Probably the most important phrases I learned was "ana eyes moya" (note my bastardized English phonetics) or "I want water" and the immortal "enta bint jameela" or "you are a beautiful woman". Asser suggested that if I didn't want to be slapped in the face or face the death penalty that I refrain from using the latter phrase, at least in public...

Investing a few bucks in a deluxe A/C bus turned out to be a really good idea. I met a couple of nice guys who helped me out with the bus: Targ at the Gedaref station (thanks for the tea) and Asser (on the bus to Khartoum). The left Gedaref at 0700 and got to Khartoum at 1300. As Targ and I were sipping hot milk tea while waiting for our buses, I could already feel the heat of the day building. It would only get worse. At one of the security checkpoints, I stepped out and was met by an incredible wall of heat. By the time we got to Khartoum, my watch thermometer registered a temperature of 43C. Normally, it just gives me a reading of my skin temperature.

Khartoum was a mess. Finding an affordable room was difficult. Asser was nice enough to walk me to a place suggested by LP. It was closed, as was all other budget suggestions. There were a lot of hotels about, but rooms were going for 60 to 100 USD. The last budget hotel on the list actually existed and was full. I was about to give up. The heat was taxing my mind and more importantly my body.

Hell knew what the locals thought of me, walking around aimlessly with a 20 kg bag strapped to my back in extreme heat. Must have looked pretty dumb. I had to rest for a half hour on the steps of the National Bank trying to figure out what to do.

I asked the reception at the last budget hotel where there was similar accommodations. A boy helped me navigate the intricate layout of the Souq al-Arabi district to what turned out to be a un-named hotel (ok, 2 handwritten Arabic words scratched on a wall beside a set of stairs does not constitute a sign to me, eh). I took the room. Overpriced but I didn't care. They didn't seem to want me to share a room with other Sudanese clients. So, I have 4 beds to myself.

I joined couchsurfing.com last night. It puts together travelers with local people who are willing to offer a bed for a night or two. I'm seriously thinking of giving some of these folks a call.

[Aside: Was talking to Asser on the bus. We were watching a really bad B-movie with some idiot American-type special operations Navy Seals guy shooting up bad guys (perhaps Arabs?) when conversation turned to current events in the news... According to Asser, Arabs are always presented in the worse light. If he saw any foreign troops on Sudanese soil he wouldn't hesitate in killing them. Tourists are OK though (I felt a wave of relief travel through my body) that includes American tourists. To Asser, he could distinguish between the US government and the American people. It's when they want to take something of Sudan's is when the problem occurs. The "problem" in Darfur was an exaggeration of the Western media. The Sudanese people are beautiful. With my limited exposure so far, I agreed. It's their government who are the evil ones [me]. According to Asser, George W. is a tosser (I agreed). If he ever stepped on Sudanese soil he would give him the one fingered salute (he demonstrates) and then slit his throat. Other than slitting W's throat it's nice to see Sudanese and most Americans (let alone the rest of the world) agreeing on what they think of dubya. There is hope in future cooperation. I only report the news, eh...]


View Larger Map
The marker in the map points to my Hotel in Khartoum. This area is called the Souq Al-arabi which by its name is where the market is situated. Every night vendors line the streets selling stuff like parfume to shoes and shirts. My hotel is situated in the "garment district". A lot of seamsters ply their trade here, with sewing machines out in the open. The large football like field to the north of the hotel is the amazingly crazy, humungous Souq Al-arabi bus station.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 9/07
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Gedaref, Sudan - Oh how sweet it is!

So long, Ethiopia! Its been a really great time. For the readers of BTOG, if there's only one country you visit in Africa in your lifetime, Ethiopia's the place to be. It's land and people (well most of them) are stunningly beautiful. I'm going to be back some day. There's more to see (Axum, the Danikil, and Gambella to name a few). Photo: the school kids of Arkwasiye, Simien Mountains, Ethiopia.

Well, it's happy birthday to me today. I feel really lucky about spending it on a rickety old bus in the Sudan... How many people can say that!!!??? I was thinking if I kept up this pace of travel I might not reach my next.

Did I miss a journal entry yesterday...? Well, I was getting my hair done up real special. The last 2 days have been tough but exciting. I thought it was going to be a standard slow bus to Bahar Dir (and overnight there). Instead, the Rasta Man's minibus showed up even though I canceled my ticket. I told the driver that 170 birr was way too much and I was on my way to the main bus station. He dialed someone on his cell. The price dropped to 150. I asked for 120. Another call and it was approved. What was the problem in the first place people?

Off we went, bolting into the cool Ethiopian dawn.

Got to Bahar Dir in due time. Because it was the "last" minibus to Gonder, I got burned on the fare. Finally as the sunset, we reached Gonder in the dark. Couldn't get a room at the Selam Hotel. So, I had to settle for the whorehouse, I mean hotel, I stayed at the last time I was in Gonder. Just as well. I had an interesting discussion with an Ethiopian guy (a business man from Addis) in the reception. I asked him what he paid for his room. He paid a paltry amount (something like 35 birr). He laughed at what I was paying. I asked him why I was paying so much. He answered, "because you can." Again, he burst into laughter. Anyway, he was a nice guy. I killed him with the amount of Amharic I had learned during my stint in the country. He was shocked at the amount of birr I was carrying for my last day.

"What would you do if you were stuck at the border?", he asked.

"Probably kill myself," I deadpanned. More laughter...

Anyway, I exchanged 5 USD with him. Damn, more birr in my pocket... What the hell is he going to do with a 5 dollar bill?

I managed to put in 3.5 hours of sleep because of my hair and a Peter Seller's bio pic on TV.

That same morning, I climbed aboard the bus for border town of Metama at 0430. The early morning air was pleasant. By 0800 it was heating up. The surrounding hills were arid, in various shades of brown, populated with occasional stands of conifers. People were far and few between. Those I saw were involved with road construction or tending livestock. It was pretty obvious we were losing a lot of altitude fast. Soon we saw the hills come to an end, replaced by the vast expanse of the Sudanese desert on the horizon.

Metama's street was chaotic to say the least. A wild mix of Ethiopians and Sudanese trading whatever could be smuggled across the border. The bus driver made me walk the last 2 km to the border. Overburdened with my overstuffed backpack, I thought how appropriate it was: leaving Ethiopia and having the door hit me in the ass on the way out.

I walked across no man's land, across a bridge spanning a river choked with dust. When did it last rain here? The border officials seemed rather cold, especially the security guy. There was a bus to Gedaref, the first substantial piece of civilization in Sudan. I needed money. The police assigned a local guy to find me the local black market moneychanger in the local market. Suffice to say, the exchange rate was dubious but the snake had me by the short and curlies. So much for first impressions.

I climbed on the bus to Gedaref. The heat was amazing. Water was dispensed to passengers using a communal stainless steel cup from a big bucket next to the driver. Perhaps the most annoying thing was having to check in with security posts along the way. The moment I stepped off the bus (just me by the way) a fierce hot wind would hit me square in the face. Consolation to having to sit in that sauna-like bus was the immaculate asphalt-surfaced road.


View Larger Map
This is Gedaref. My hotel was directly east of this waypoint. The market was along this street as well.

Arrived in Gedaref at 1800 (3 hr. bus ride). Everyone's been really nice (despite my two word Arabic vocabulary). I'm glad to be back in a Muslim country. The Gedaref market really comes to life in the waning daytime heat. I'm going to need some time to get use to the climate.

I met a couple of Belgian cyclists outside the hotel. They experienced 56C in Wadi Halfa. If it continues like that, it's not going to be fun at all.

[ed. note: Total bus time = 0400 to 1900 on Monday (Addis to Gonder) + 0600 to 1400 on Tuesday (Gonder to Metama) + 1500 to 1800 (Metama to Gedaref) = 26 hrs. on the bus in 48 hrs]

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 8/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - It's a Dog Eat Dog World Out Here...

Mother and child, Mulit, Simien Mountains, Ethiopia...

Looks like it's a no go with the minibus to Bahar Dir. I give up. It's too bad. I know it's a pointless debate because foreigners/tourists will never get a fair shake with most transactions here or anywhere in the world for that matter. For example, back home there's a tourist trap called the Calgary Stampede.

Everyone and their dog is susceptible to being burned. The Rasta Man, resident travel agent of the Taitu Hotel, has a white English girlfriend. Nothing is beneath this guy, eh. He sold her a bus ticket for a whopping 150 birr. That's dog eat dog my friends.

Well, I thought seriously about jumping on the Rasta Man's bus but earlier tonight I baled and canceled the ticket. It's back on the big bus. It will add a day to the process but I should still make it in time for the Monday train to Wadi Halfa.

PS. Checked the forecast for Khartoum. It's going to be 45-46C for the next 5 days. Then there's a cooling trend down to 40C. I'm just going to wilt.

PPS. I apologise for all the whining. If I catch any of these bastards in Canada, I'm going to sell them a 6 dollar cafe latte... ok, that's it.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 6/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Still here...Part 2

Man #2 - Harar, Ethiopia...

Girl #2 - the poser, Harar, Ethiopia...

Well, you guessed right. I'm still here in Addis. After a full day's research I'm still here. I could not find the elusive minivan to Bahar Dir. Struck out at the bus station and bridge. A lot of people offered me surprisingly exorbitant landcruiser rides at the bridge... Consolation, I did find a hammering bakery on the way back.

There was a slight development this afternoon. I checked in on Dean, the American guy who live down the hallway at the hotel. He had found a ticket for 150 birr from a Rasta guy out on the street. Hmmm... I'll check it out tomorrow or not...

I'm itching to put some momentum back into the trip.

Maybe a haircut tomorrow? Not.

[Ed. note: Dean, the American guy, was an amazing guy. He's actually making money out here traveling. Gettin' it done, gnome sayin'... He's writing articles/books, producing podcasts, and giving slide shows of his travels back in the States. Check his website @ theDeanofTravel -clever name, eh?]

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 5/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Rollin' the dice...

Boy #1 - the guide, Harar, Ethiopia...

Certainly a good news/bad news kind of day.

Good news: Finally got the Sudanese visa. As an added bonus it has a period of validity of one month and 2 full weeks of transit time. That makes Thursday the perfect day to arrive at the border. Can't see myself spending another 6 days in Ethiopia though. I have to be aware that my Egyptian via expires on the 26th of May. Perhaps I should go to Gambella for a few days?

Bad news: Still haven't located the Bahar Dir minibus station. The tourist office wasn't aware that it existed and suggested it might be located around Habte Gyorgis Bridge (like the guidebook said). May as well check out the Autobes Terra (main bus station) too while I'm at it. The longer I chase after this, what seems to be mythical, Bahar Dir minibus the more skeptical I get...


Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 4/07
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Addis Ababa, Ethiopia - Bubba and the Big Breakfast...

Breakfast (well, in between orders of firfir) with the new NGO's...

2 developments today. One, the breakfast for all my new NGO's went off without a hitch. Met up with the contact person for "the project", Nezro (sp?). I thought I was treating 4 or 6 kids but eight showed up. Ordered up 3 huge mountainous platters of firfir at a local eatery (a place I'd never find on my own). Predictably, the kids scarfed it down pretty fast. Everyone appeared to have a good time.

Nezro informed me that the kid's need shoes and he wants me to finance the deal. He also wants me to buy them breakfast again tomorrow! Look, I really don't see myself as chintzy but I felt like a walking sack of money, again. I sense very little appreciation when I do this kind of stuff. I don't want these kids to depend on me for handouts but the need for the very basics is so overwhelming.

As my Polish friend said, Ethiopians must look after their own at some point.

In contrast, Nezro said, at the medical clinic where we took one of the kids after breakfast, "only the Westerners care [about the poor]. Rich Ethiopians really don't give a damn."

Well, maybe they, the rich Ethiopians should stop raping and pillaging the place and give back to the community. Suffice to say, I'm kind of torn, as an outsider, as to what to do for these kids... All I know is this lil' project seemed to have fallen on my increasingly reluctant lap...

Nezro's taking off tomorrow to visit his wife. Maybe I should take the day off as well to focus on my impending departure, like Anthony... Ok, I'm waiting for my personal bolt of lightning to hit me square on the ass but, dammit, I'm a poor tourist, not a social worker/philanthropist...

After breakfast, I hoofed it down to the Sudan Embassy... Got there at 1000, plenty of time to submit the application. Mohammed and Sharif (kind of sad when you get to know the embassy staff by their first name for the wrong reasons...) were still acting like complete a$$holes again and not answering my knocking at the steel gate/door on the Embassy's perimeter. I knew I had to be persistent to get any service. So, I kept knocking at the door with a coin in hand. That made such a grating noise. Within minutes, Mohammed cracked the door open. He reached out, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me through the opening and into the compound. I gave Sharif my papers and passport and left as fast as I came in. I should have reviewed my visa requirements but I forgot.

Further logistical problems with regards to finding a minibus ride back up to Bahar Dir. I inquired at the front desk of the hotel, all the receptionists referred me to "landcruiser guy" who charged 250 birr for the trip. Suspiciously, the "Canadian lady" in the room next to mine only had to shell out 120 birr for the Bahar Dir journey just last weekend. For some unknown reason, she was reluctant to share any info on how to get a similar ticket... I don't know what to think anymore...other than I gotta get outta here...now.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 3/07
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Harar to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia... Can you spell numb nuts?

Girl #1 in Harar, Ethiopia...

No pain, no gain seems to be the cliche that applies to traveling in Ethiopia.

I'm happy to be out of Harar. Things went well on the bus today. Could have arrived earlier in Addis if it were for the constant harassment of Ethiopian customs authorities along the way. With each stop, at least 6 times, I and fellow passengers would have to pile out of the bus. The officials would poke around inside while we melted outside in the hot sun. I'd say 20 minutes per stop before we could reboard.

Arrived in Addis at 1800 (clocking in after 12 hours on the road), and took a minibus back to the Piazza and ultimately the Taitu Hotel, a.k.a. home sweet home.

I ate dinner at an old stomping ground, the Omar Khayyam Restaurant. Fell asleep back at the hotel, only to be awoken by Anthony, my Polish friend, knocking at my door. I was about to spill my guts over the news of his NGO in Harar but he already spoke to Solomon the day before (it's a small world). He didn't seem surprised over the difficulties the little boy was experiencing.

While I was in Harar, he had actually sold some of his photos (to a company that published postcards and wanted pix for a Millenium coffee table book) and started a new NGO project. He took me outside to introduce me to 4 very young homeless boys. One of them was without pants. Apparently he had them stolen tonight while he was wearing them. That was crazy...

Anyway, my little assigned project tomorrow was to take the kids to a firfir filled breakfast. Firfir is nasty for me but a treat for them (firfir is injera drenched in beriberi sauce (very spicy) served on top of injera - just makes me want to puke).

After my NGO work tomorrow, I've got to get down to the Sudanese Embassy and finally hand in my visa application. It's time to move on...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 2/07
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Harar, Ethiopia - Do gooders, heinous hyenas, and videotape...

My NGO. Actually, Anthony's NGO. Naughty kid ran away and smoked his inventory of cigarettes. So, I had to convert him into a shoeshine boy. Seriously, I hope he smartens up and makes enough money to go to school. (Btw, Anthony bought him the clothes he's wearing).

I bought him the supplies. The neatest thing was the AK 47 ammo box he was going to use to carry the shoe polish, etc. I wish I bought one for myself... I'd look kind of weird declaring that to customs at YYC.

This is Solomon, man with a big heart. He's the NGO's mentor. He and his family have been kind enough to offer the NGO a place to stay in their house. His payback? The kid runs off with the goods... Good luck, Solomon...

Interesting day. I think I performed a good deed. I'm not sure. I visited Anthony's NGO child today. Apparently, the contact worked at the hotel restaurant. I dropped the name and soon I found myself being led into the slum area under the hotel to visit Solomon, the child's supervisor.

I met Solomon, who seemed to be a real nice guy, in a courtyard, surrounded a group of shacks, home to his extended family. I got the lowdown on Jambirr, the NGO kid. According to Solomon, Jambirr had run away from his adopted home a couple of times since becoming a NGO project. Jambirr apparently fabricated a story that bigger kids had confiscated the materials he was suppose to sell (kleenex, chewing gum, cigarettes, etc...). The money he made was meant to better his life of course. In actual fact, he was spotted hanging around, smoking the very cigarettes he was selling. He only returned to Solomon's house when he was starving for another meal. Next disappearance is supposed to be strike 3. If I were Solomon and his family, I would kick him out now and back to his former life (begging and sleeping under a roadside plastic lean-to) for a while and thing bring him back to the good life. Then ask him which life he prefers.

You have to give Solomon and his family credit. They realized that this kid was a long term project (i.e. you can take the kid off the streets, but you can't take the streets out of the kid - well, they were willing to try again at least). With that support behind him I decided to up the ante and restart the NGO program. We talked a while and agreed that things had to change. Instead of selling nick nacks, we decided to change his career. We turned him into a shoeshine boy. We went back to the local market and, for 70 birr, bought him the necessary supplies. Suffice to say, he won't be eating or smoking shoe polish...

I truly hope it works this time because this may well be the kid's last chance at farangi goodwill. Once I and Anthony are gone the well will run dry unless another do gooder comes long. (highly unlikely).

I'm leaving for Addis tomorrow @ 0500.

I gotta pack and shoot some hyenas tonite before bedtime...

My granny, what big teeth, bad breath, and funny laugh you have...

it's 0046 and I'm still awake. It's really going to suck on the bus today. The hyenas were about a weird, bizarre, surreal experience as it gets.



This is my lame attempt at taping some of the action. First, it was really dark out. I didn't have the luxury of car lights shining on the critters. So, I had to resort to the nightshot feature on my camera. Not good, but it did give the hyenas an extra evil look about them. Second, once the clip underwent the youtube treatment, some detail was lost. For instance, the middle segment featured the eyeshine of the hyenas. There must have been 6 to 8 in the group. Very creepy with that many eyes peering at us. You can still see a couple of pairs, but they're faint. I like the hyenas laughing at us though. As for the third segment, I'm the goof playing the role of hyena paparrazi.

Good night.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 1/07
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