A Culinary Tour of Ethiopia

Above is one of my first meals in Ethiopia. Orthodox Christians in Ethiopia fast for an extended Lent period, cutting out all meat and dairy products from their diet. Understandably, the evening before the fasting starts is a huge party night, where people enjoy their last night of feasting on all the forbidden foods. When I tried to order 'fasting food' (the veggie option), I was told I could have it tomorrow. No amount of explaining would get me a veggie meal. In the end, we agreed that we could have a dish with a mixture of meat and veggies. Having had Ethiopian food a number of times, I was content with this, as the sauces normally neatly compartmentalised. But not this time. We were presented with this injera parcel with everything mixed up. I enjoyed nibbling on the omelette on top but was horrified to discover that what I expected to be a tomato sauce was actually raw meat! Even the most hardened carnivores amongst us found that hard to stomach!

Later that evening, we visited a local bar to watch (and tried to join in with) a little cultural dancing. One guy nearly got a slap when he said to my friend 'Do you like touch?' ... The poor bloke was actually just asking her what she thought of the local honey wine, which is called 'tej'! How easily we are misunderstood! 

Saint George is not only the patron saint of England, but is also a bit of a hero in Ethiopia. Churches are dedicated to him throughout the land and the image of him bravely slaying a dragon adorns many a mural. I enjoyed a few beers in his honour too!

Ethiopians enjoy chewing on a little chat, which is said to have a mild euphoric effect. I didn't get that far though as I found it so disgusting that I had to spit it out after a couple of minutes. I didn't fare much better when I tried chewing coca leaves in Peru either! 

Here's a more typical injera dish, where the foods are served separately. Thankfully for me, by everything on this plate was 'fasting food'. My favourites were the spinach and the 'shiro' bean stew. I'm not entirely sure what the cold chips were doing on the plate though!

Come fly with me

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

If you can use some exotic booze

There's a bar in far Bombay

Come on and fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Once upon a time, flying was a luxurious affair, the reserve of the rich and famous. Passengers dressed to impress, Frank Sinatra sang about it and I imagine the whole experience was exciting and fabulous. Then came the package tours of the 1980s and any Tom, Dick or Harry could afford to jet away to foreign parts. When it comes to mile high fashion, the Brits are probably the world's worst dressed. I used to giggle at the Colombians who turned up at the airport with their high heels, voluminous hair and a full face of make-up, but it's better than the sloppy track-suits and combat trousers we all tend to wear. 

By the mid noughties (eek - horrid word - 2000s, zeros ??? I still haven't found a decent abbreviation for this decade), I was jetting off to European cities for a penny plus taxes on the budget airlines. Sure, they may try to charge you a quid to spend a penny, but who can complain at that price? 

In recent years, in these security-paranoid times, flying has become ever more hasslesome and humiliating. How many items of clothing are we going to be asked to remove before passing through the metal detector gates next? 

We needed a whole trolley to ourselves!

Checking nothing went astray

I thought I had experienced it all until I travelled with an East African budget airline to Kilimanjaro. The first plane looked like something that had been decommissioned by Aeroflot in 1972 and the unpleasant toilet smell wafted down the aisles for the entirity of the journey. In Nairobi, we did have some special treatment though. As we had such a short layover, we were worried about whether our luggage would get lost. We need not have been concerned. After disembarking the plane, the crew proceeded to empty the luggage hold in front of our very eyes and we saw that it was loaded onto the trolley and sent to the next plane. We then walked across the airfield an into the terminal. I do appreciate the fact that they still let you walk to the buildings here rather than put everyone on a bus for a 500 metre journey.

The return journey was no less eventful. We called the first plane, a tiny 18 seater propeller, 'the tube' and prepared ourselves for a bumpy ride. The journey was surprisingly calm and we landed in Nairobi 30 minutes later, flying at an altitude lower than what we climbed on Kilimanjaro! When we checked in again, we got upgraded. Finally - I've been hoping for this to happen for years! I should have contained my excitement ... not only was there no bubbly in business class, but we couldn't even get a glass of wine! 

Oh well - I guess I'm just not destined for luxury travel!