Embracing the unexpected is one of the best things about travel and adventure. Accepting that even the best laid plans will often not work out exactly as expected can be difficult, but the resultant experiences are often some of most interesting and most memorable, like the time I became a pool shark in rural Ethiopia.
After our successful trip to the Danakil Depression to see the incredible Erta Ale Volcano we were back on the road. Leaving Mek'ele was exciting, we were now only a week away from our Sudanese visas going ‘live’, and we would soon be able to enter this most evocative of countries.
Passing the time at Addi Arkay bus station... (Photo Credit: N.Colwill)
Our plan was to get to the town of Debark by the end of the day, and as usual we had started optimistically. Unfortunately, the drivers and touts at the bus station didn’t share our optimism, and we were told again and again that the one and only bus going to Debark had already left. Having successfully negotiated several buses to get to Mek'ele in the first place, we were pretty confident in our minibussing abilities, and so set out to prove to the doubters that the Ethiopian transport system was more than up to the task by employing our patented leap frog approach – hopping from town to town on rubbish busses until we reached our desired destination.
The first leg went well, and we made it to the excellently named town of Shire without any problems (although we were a little disappointed to find out it was pronounced sheeray not Shire like where the hobbits live). At Shire bus station we were subject to all the regular scams and stories, and were once again told that it was impossible for us to get to Debark. We responded to this pessimism with a smile and a nod, and paid no attention to the doubters, what did they know anyway? We consulted our map of Ethiopia and traced our fingers along the sinuous road heading south towards Debark; about half way along the road, high in the mountains was a little village by the name of Addi Arkay, and so with our next location decided upon, we began wandering up and down the bus station perusing bus windows like last minute Christmas shoppers until we spied an almost full bus with a neon sign indicating it was heading to the previously unknown village. We jumped aboard the bus confident that when we arrived in Addi Arkay we would be able to change buses for a third and final time, thus completing our journey to Debark – what could possibly go wrong?
The hustle and bustle of downtown Addi Araky...
The drive to Addi Arkay was a mental and physical challenge; I was in negative equity with regard to leg room, meaning I had to adopt an awkward squat position for the duration, cushioning my knees against certain injury from the pointy metal frame of the seat in front of me; it was uncomfortably hot despite fully functioning windows, which for some reason the guy sitting next to the opening device insisted on keeping closed, and to add to the oppressive atmosphere inside the bus, several of our fellow passengers were vomiting as they had done on our journey from Lalibela to Mek'ele, and the little plastic bags being thrown around did little to stop the floor of the bus, and the back of my legs, from becoming awash with gastric juices. Fortunately for us, the driver was doing his level best to ensure we didn’t have to endure these conditions for long, insisting as he did on driving as fast as the bus’ insufficient engine would allow resulting in us headbutting either the roof or window depending on which way we screeched around the mountain switchbacks.
Relief came in the form of a sarcastic policeman at one of the many check points on this stretch of the road. Being close to the Eritrean border, he was in no mood for fare dodgers, and after a thorough check of everyone’s tickets decided to throw three passengers off the bus allowing the remainder just enough space to enjoy the spectacular views of the Simien mountains for the final half an hour of our journey.
The incredible Simien mountains surround Addi Araky...
Battered and bruised we pulled into Addi Arkay’s bus station, and were met by a dusty square of land with an old tractor rusting gently in the corner. It lacked the usual buzz of previous bus stations, and the mangy dogs roaming about didn’t fill us with confidence. It was already quite late and if we were going to make it to Debark tonight we would have to work fast; we asked a loitering teenager about a minibus onwards to Debark, and with a nod of his apathetic head, we were immediately surrounded by touts and inundated with offers of private minibuses which would deliver us to Debark in style and comfort if we were prepared to pay the substantial price. We didn’t need to check our wallets to know that we weren’t in a position to hire an entire bus to ourselves, so we continued to try and find out about a regular bus only to be met with conflicting messages as to its existence.
There were a couple of empty minibuses around, and at some point, during our lengthy negotiations with the touts in broken Amharic, we gathered that one of them may have been going to Debark. We didn’t have any other leads to go on, so we took our bags off and made ourselves comfortable; the wait and see tactic had worked before, and there was no reason why it wouldn’t again.
Still waiting...
An hour passed, and it was becoming increasingly unlikely that a bus was going to be heading to Debark tonight, we were just about to give up hope when suddenly there was an eruption of activity at the entrance of the bus station. A packed minibus screeched to a halt just outside, and a crowd of people quickly set upon it. We were on the wrong side of the bus station, so leapt to our feet and did our best to fight our way through the dozens of people who had appeared from nowhere, but within seconds of arriving it had already left again, taking with it our last chance of leaving Addi Arkay that night. We had run out of time, and our attempt at besting the Ethiopian bus system had failed; annoying as it was, it was time to look at the positives; we consoled ourselves that we would now have the opportunity to explore Addi Arkay, a village we wouldn’t have even known about if everything had gone to plan. Energised by the prospect of exploration, we left the bus station and found ourselves in the middle of the village which consisted of a thin strip of tarmac flanked by a couple of single story buildings and a half-built hotel. Escaping the Hamlin-esque crowd of children we had amassed, we entered the hotel, bartered for a good deal, and were shown to our rooms via spider web of bare wires, and the stairs that hadn’t been finished, narrowly avoiding a nasty fall into what appeared to be a cellar.
There is a reason Addi Arkay doesn’t feature in travel guides of Ethiopia, quite simply there is nothing there. After walking the entire 500m length of the road we saw nothing of note, except for a bar and a school. Wanting to make the most of our visit, we wandered into the school with the permission of the sixth former/guard who, in between stopping kids from climbing the fence, had his head buried in an ancient textbook about chemical engineering. The hand drawn murals on the walls of the school were quite something to behold, especially the one depicting the structure of the earth – a personal favourite, but after quarter of an hour we had exhausted all the exploration opportunities the school could provide, and so headed back to the road. The crowd of children following us was growing a little tiresome, so we took an inspired move, and jumped into the shady looking bar to escape them. We stayed for a drink, and passed the time waiting for the children to disperse chatting to an Ethiopian doctor who had been sent to Addi Arkay to complete a training placement; Originally from the city of Gondar 75 miles further South, we quickly got the impression that the good doctor wasn’t impressed with having to spend his time in this little village, and he was curious to know why we had decided to visit. He seemed suitably amused by our story, and went on to tell us that during his seven months in Addi Arkay he hadn’t seen a single foreigner who had actually stopped and stayed in the village, we were beginning to understand our reception.
Let's talk about maths...
Making the most of our situation we asked our new doctor friend where the best food in town was, and he gave us directions to a someone’s front room which seemed to double as a restaurant when the need arose, where we were able to dine on delicious spaghetti and slightly less delicious injira for the handsome sum of 33p each. Having seen the school, the bar and eaten injira in the restaurant, we had pretty much exhausted Addi Arkay’s entertainment possibilities, and were ready to call it a night until we remembered a scruffy looking pool table we had seen outside the bar, our evening was about to take a surreal turn.
Arriving at the empty bar we racked up the balls on the battered cloth and began to do our best to figure out the complicated physics required to hit the balls into the pockets to account for the undulating table. During the first game, a small crowd had gathered to watch our exploits, there was some pointing and a few hushed whispers, but we didn’t think much of it and continued to knock the balls around as more and more people joined the crowd. By the time we racked up the balls for the second time, our quiet game had very quickly got out of hand and what had started as an exercise to pass the time to avoid going to bed embarrassingly early, had become an exhibition match for the entire town! The crowd continued to grow around the table until I counted almost 100 people watching us play. We had discovered in Addis Ababa that Ethiopian pool is very different to what we were used to, and our strange interpretation of the rules divided the crowd. Gone were the hushed whispers, now there was a loud running commentary, cheering after shots, and laughter, lots and lots of laughter, the pressure to perform was definitely on! The whole spectacle was hilarious, there was genuinely so little going on here that the height of entertainment was to watch a couple of faranji play pool, badly. We both managed a few shots which drew “oooohs” from the crowd, and we even earnt the odd round of applause. The whole scenario was very surreal, but brilliant, and the unexpected celebrity meant that we weren’t short of drink offers after the game.
'Put your hands up and lets discuss: The inner core, outer core, mantle and crust...'
Back in the hotel, the party atmosphere of the street below continued long into the night, and I reflected on what a brilliantly unexpected evening I had had, after embracing the unplanned and making the most of the situation. You will never find Addi Arkay on a ‘must visit’ list of Ethiopian destinations, nor will it take up any valuable guidebook space, but if you are passing through, and fancy a game of pool, you will be warmly welcomed!