After chasing a robust circuit around southern Ethiopia, Dad and I decided to change the pace and spend a week on the mystic isle of Zanzibar.
We got lucky, at least that’s how I see it. I’ve always been fascinated by wetland ecosystems and the first time I saw the Rift Valley lakes on a map I knew I had to explore them. Little did I know that Awassa, the lake shore city we stumbled upon and called home for the past week, was paradise.
The local bus dropped us off at the side of the dusty road in a small village called Dinsho, 400km southeast of Addis. The quiet mountain town, sitting at an impressive 3,500m above sea level, differed little from its neighboring communities with its lack of urban planning and newly established, highly unreliable, power supply.
For those of you who haven’t been fortunate enough to meet my Dad yet, you’ve been seriously missing out – he’s a treat. He’s also my traveling companion for the next month!
I’ve learned that it’s tricky packing for a trip when you don’t know how long you’re going for and where you’re actually going. One of my goals during my upcoming sojourn is to become more comfortable with ambiguity, although it’s not easy when you’re undeniably Type A and love structure and organization more than Sex and the City re-runs (ok, it’s close).
Here’s the skinny: a few months passed since my sister and I spoke last. Although I decided some sibling-related breathing-room was needed, I really missed her. When I picked up the phone this afternoon and dialed her number I got uncharacteristically nervous – accelerated heartbeat, the works. Her enthusiastic hello was comforting and my apprehension melted away.