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Travel to an African country that borders Sudan, Somalia, Kenya and
Eritrea can be dangerous to your health in more ways than one. But, if
you’re a skydiving, snowboarding, tomb raiding Indiana Jones kind ‘a
trekker, you might find Ethiopia just your cup of strong coffee.

Since the murder in 1975 of the emperor, strangled in the
basement of his palace, Ethiopia has seesawed from absolute rule by a
God-King, to Marxist/Military totalitarianism to the present Federal
Democratic Republic of Ethiopia with a Constitution. Though tribal blood
feuds do exist in parts of the country, the U.S. has an embassy in Addis
Ababa, and you can check the State Department’s travel alerts.

The Last Emperor

Now that you’ve packed and done your homework, you’re ready to go.
You’ve read that Ethiopia’s history goes back to the dawn of man.
Archaeologists have unearthed human remains that carbon-date 3.2
million years ago. I worked in the capital, Addis Ababa during the reign
of Ethiopia’s last emperor. A tiny man with a title larger than himself,
“Emperor Haile Selassi I, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah, Elect of
God, King of Kings of Ethiopia” proclaimed himself the direct
descendant of Menilek I, son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.

Each Christmas Day, the emperor opened his palace to foreign
embassy bigwigs for tea and sweets while his pet lions strolled around
the gardens. I got to go only because I was taking photos for an official
brochure. Can you imagine tea with Haile Selassi? I lived near the
palace and went to bed each night to the screech of peacocks and the
roar of those noisy cats.

To experience the geological diversity of the land you only have to fly
into the 8,000-foot high capital. The mountains and plateaus seem to
rise up to meet you. Eucalyptus forests, high canyons, steep gorges,
scrub desert and ice-cold lakes are secret untamed places for hikers,
climbers and happy campers. You’ll find yourself eating Injera and Wat
with your fingers. Injera is baked from a sourdough batter and placed on
your tabletop like a gigantic pancake. Wat is the stew that’s served in the
middle of the Injera. You tear off a piece of Injera and use it to scoop up
the fiery stew (chicken, meat or vegetables). You don’t want to find
yourself on the other end of a meal. At the Sudanese border, the Baro
River teems with crocodiles. Sadly, I lost a friend there. See http://
www.peacecorpswriters.org/pages/2001/0101/101cllook.html

Hyena Man

Addis is home to Ethiopian Orthodox Churches, U.N. Economic
Commission For Africa, museums and some modern hotels that did not
exist when I rubbed elbows with the little king! Back then there were no
streetlamps. After dark, hyenas skulked into the city scavenging for
anything they could get their jaws around, garbage or human. There
was a man, a prowler of shadows himself, who had a way with the nasty
predators. Wandering the back alleys, he mysteriously lured the beasts
to him and then out of town, kind of like a Pied Piper. We called him “the
hyena man,” and that is all we knew about him. Present day
“entrepreneurs” have made the former event into a thriving business
performed for tourists.

The Blue Nile Falls

We took off in a single engine Cessna T-210 from the ancient capital of
Gondar heading for Bahir Dar and Lake Tana, source of the Blue Nile. In
Ethiopia, everything was ancient, including the Cessna. A former
Korean War Ace, Walt had been spraying malaria-infected areas for
years. The Blue Nile, as opposed to the brownish White Nile in Egypt,
gets its name from the waters of Lake Tana, the largest lake in Ethiopia,
from whence the river flows to Khartoum and on into Egypt. Walt didn’t
fly over the falls; he practically flew into them. Swooping low on the first
run, I nearly lost my breakfast, but I asked him to do it again for a closer
shot. Staring up at me through the tree branches of the surrounding
rainforest was the white-fringed face of a silky black and white long-
tailed monkey. Hunted to near extinction for its beautiful coat, the
Colobus Monkey, the only kind of its species without a thumb, is an
endangered acrobatic marvel of grace and elegance.

Mist from the thundering waters creates a rainbow bridge to the sun. I
was snapping photos when bullets tore through the fuselage,
zapping Walt in his bottom. We couldn’t see the shooters but we knew
they wanted the Cessna. Despite terrible pain, the seasoned pilot wasn’t
going to let them have it. Shouting obscenities over my prayers, he
managed to hold on to the faltering plane while the floorboards
soaked up his blood. We arrived in Bahir Dar with Walt’s pride as
wounded as his anatomy. After medical attention and a few belts of Jack
Daniels, the bush pilot was on cloud nine.

Rock Churches of Lalibela

Ethiopian Airways’ hotshot pilots take off and land on postage stamp
plateaus. A short flight from Addis is the tiny town of Lalibela whose
airport terminal, in my time, was a tin roofed hut. Never mind. Hidden
under ground are eleven monolithic churches carved from rock. Built in
the thirteenth century, the churches are holy places of Ethiopian
Christian pilgrimage. I had to crawl down into the subterranean spaces
on my hands and knees. Once inside, I was in the Middle Ages. A priest
with a torch stood in the darkness guarding an altar and religious wall
paintings. He looked like he’d been standing there for 500 years! Monks
tell you the Ark of the Covenant is similarly hidden in a monastery in the
ancient city of Axum, where Queen Sheba stayed in the 10th century
B.C. Someone should tell Steven Spielberg.

“Simplicity-Courage-Humor-Soul”

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Anyone desiring an adventure in a foreign land should consider Morocco in northwest Africa. The marriage of old and new gives depth and interest to a visit.

The vista from the water appears as if from the Arabian Nights with sand dunes casting shadows in the moonlight as the ocean laps on the white beaches. Ancient towns drowse in the African sun as robed men and women travel by foot, by donkey, or by car. Europeans and Americans pass by in late model vehicles. Morocco’s combination of the most modern life with the most ancient of entities fascinates, interests, and excites me as I travel.

The sun causes the city to shine like a pearl nestled by the Atlantic. Casablanca (which means white house), the gateway to Morocco, meets the eyes first in this place of adventure and beauty. From the contemporary, busy harbor to the center of the city, swarm multicolored, diversely dressed people. A flock of bright-hued, short-skirted girls with long hair flying clack by in their chunky heels. Behind glides a somber group of burnoosed Fatima faces veiled and mysterious. A young Frenchman, in the latest style, saunters by a beggar in robe and dirt. A half-naked toddler, all dark eyes and watery sores, stares at another child dressed in clean clothes riding in a stroller.

In the midst of the metropolis, I visit moderately tall high-rise buildings and many of the latest stores. Then after a short walk or ride in any direction, I discover lovely old villas arrayed in yellows, reds, blues, greens — all flowers and plants. Tucked in here and pushed in there, dirty and cramped stores attract my attention. A little farther away stand shacks of straw, cardboard, mud, or tin, where misery, filth, and poverty of unbelievable depth live. The contrast between the rich being so rich and the poor being so poor shocks me.

When I leave the city, a modern ribbon of asphalt runs into fog-wrapped foothills. Along the roadside, a native man upon his donkey rides before the less-than-animal woman trudging behind. A dark-faced man with a smile-flash of white tries to take all the road with one small bicycle. A European whizzes by in a bug-like car; a limousine, chauffeur driven, majestically rolls past bearing a powerful sheik.

In towns or cities, such as Marrakech, easily accessed commercial areas provide for business needs. Behind low walls, villas or modest homes line wide boulevards. Along narrow winding streets that cars cannot maneuver, doors from windowless houses open directly onto the roadway. The dwellings abut each other, closely packed side by side. Children run chasing and kicking a ball, as veiled women return from market carrying the day’s needs in net bags or in bundles upon their heads.

Beyond the town boundaries, a donkey and a camel yoked together plow a field. The camel will not cooperate; the donkey has to turn him. In the field next door, an American-made tractor does the work in much less time.

Here and there small settlements break the skyline with most of the huts made of wood, mud, or tin; the out-buildings, of straw. Occasionally a more affluent home of stone, built around an open courtyard, appears. Little beauty such as flowers or trees brighten the outside of the drab humble “home.”

In Morocco exist the wealthy and the indigent; but even more evident are the modern and the ancient ways. The rich, the poor, the old, and the new bring a flavor of enchantment to a country of Arabian Night mystery.

Vivian Gilbert Zabel taught English, composition, and creative writing for twenty-five years, honing her skills as she studied and taught. She is an author on http://www.Writing.Com/, a site for Writers, and her portfolio is http://www.Writing.Com/authors/vzabel. Her books, Hidden Lies and Other Storied and Walking the Earth, can be found through Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com.

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It is often said that English speakers don’t learn other languages, and it is difficult to deny that there is a fair degree of truth in this.

However, let’s be fair, often it is not necessary because ‘everyone speaks English’ or wants to practice it. Equally, if you speak English and you want to learn another language it is not obvious which should you choose. Spanish, Chinese, French ? You can’t learn everything and so whatever country you visit there will be the inevitable temptation to speak in English.

But even if it is not essential to learn another language, and you are put off because everyone speaks English anyway, you can learn some simple words and phrases with a simple change of mindset. It is always useful, people are more friendly when you make an effort, and it does become easier to see less touristy sites.

Decide to learn one hundred words and phrases in total before you travel.

The intention of learning only maybe one hundred foreign words and phrases is not the traditional approach to language learning which has much more emphasis on becoming ‘good’ at languages. But times change and we change with them. Cheap global travel means that it is quite usual to visit multiple countries with multiple languages spoken. It is quite possible that you are not going to visit the same country the year after year. This means that you can’t possibly attain a high level of competence for each language spoken in all the countries you visit, but you can definitely learn one hundred words. Why not have a goal of learning one hundred words and a few phrases whenever you visit a country with a different language spoken?

Cheap flights allow us to travel more widely, and give us more opportunities to dabble with languages. Learning a foreign language well is difficult and time consuming but learning a few simple words is not, and it is amazing how far you can get with please, thank you, yes, no etc. It is far easier to start learning a language than to attain conversational ability and there is a fast rate of progress when only learning a few words.

If you decide to set yourself this achievable goal you will get more out of your holiday wherever you visit. To see the truth in this you just have to consider how you view of a visitor to your country who doesn’t even know how to say please and thank-you in English. Are you impressed ? Is it any different when English speakers travel abroad. Not really.

Frank Middleton is a freelance author and writes occasional articles for http://www.linguata.com a site dedicated to the achievable goal of learning simple foreign words and phrases.

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