I think it is safe to say that as wonderful as it is to get away, sometimes it’s just easier to stay home. The truth is, if you want to see the world, you have to be willing to put up with a certain degree of discomfort, even when you’re traveling first class. And the way I travel is decidedly not first class.
Even before these last two trips, most of my excursions have been strictly budget (which I would promptly blow as soon as I started shopping). I went to Rome on a $350 round-trip ticket booked four days before departure. I spent a week in Paris with my sister-in-law—$800 each bought our plane tickets and six nights in a decent hotel, an amount I probably matched at several Parisian boutiques. And my week in London was spent at a $16-per-night hostel that just happened to be within walking distance of Piccadilly Circus (a shopping mecca in the heart of the West End), which, even at the ripe old age of 22 (and the bank account to match), I knew was the place I wanted to be.
Ironically, my most expensive travels have been the most...rustic. The thing about Africa is that it’s expensive to get there, but extremely affordable once you touch ground. Tickets from San Diego rarely cost less than $2,000, and usually more. But in Ethiopia you can find a passable hotel room for less than $25 per night, and the most delicious coffee drink called a macchiato for less than 25 cents. In Addis, a lunch of pizza, salad and sodas for 17 people cost less than $35. Compare that to the weak dollar exchange you get in Europe, and Ethiopia—airfare and all—starts to look like a bargain.
But you do pay a different kind of price…which brings me back to discomfort. My recent trip to Ethiopia was downright luxurious compared to last year’s trip to Zambia with Habitat for Humanity. Forget fears of malaria and communicable diseases—I was more concerned with using a pit latrine and sleeping on the ground for two weeks in a village without electricity or running water. Little did I know that those things would seem like minor inconveniences compared to the 17-hour bus ride that took us from the capital, Lusaka, to a tiny village in the northwest province called Mufumbwe (and, of course, the 17-hour ride that took us back). Although the improvement of roads is a priority of the government and international investment has dramatically increased the number and length of paved roads, five hours of that 17-hour journey was over dirt and gravel.
The word “potholes” doesn’t adequately describe the craters that marked our path. The previous rainy season had left holes half the size of our bus, requiring our driver to circumvent these obstacles at a painfully slow speed for hours at a time. The random herds of goats or the odd stray ox were nothing compared to these mammoth ditches, which regularly threatened to tip us over, especially after the sun went down.
We arrived in Mufumbwe hours after our expected arrival, in a darkness untouched by electricity. Had it still been light, we might have noticed that we were covered from head to toe in red African dust. Had it still been light, we might have realized that the inside of our bus looked like this:
Even before these last two trips, most of my excursions have been strictly budget (which I would promptly blow as soon as I started shopping). I went to Rome on a $350 round-trip ticket booked four days before departure. I spent a week in Paris with my sister-in-law—$800 each bought our plane tickets and six nights in a decent hotel, an amount I probably matched at several Parisian boutiques. And my week in London was spent at a $16-per-night hostel that just happened to be within walking distance of Piccadilly Circus (a shopping mecca in the heart of the West End), which, even at the ripe old age of 22 (and the bank account to match), I knew was the place I wanted to be.
Ironically, my most expensive travels have been the most...rustic. The thing about Africa is that it’s expensive to get there, but extremely affordable once you touch ground. Tickets from San Diego rarely cost less than $2,000, and usually more. But in Ethiopia you can find a passable hotel room for less than $25 per night, and the most delicious coffee drink called a macchiato for less than 25 cents. In Addis, a lunch of pizza, salad and sodas for 17 people cost less than $35. Compare that to the weak dollar exchange you get in Europe, and Ethiopia—airfare and all—starts to look like a bargain.
But you do pay a different kind of price…which brings me back to discomfort. My recent trip to Ethiopia was downright luxurious compared to last year’s trip to Zambia with Habitat for Humanity. Forget fears of malaria and communicable diseases—I was more concerned with using a pit latrine and sleeping on the ground for two weeks in a village without electricity or running water. Little did I know that those things would seem like minor inconveniences compared to the 17-hour bus ride that took us from the capital, Lusaka, to a tiny village in the northwest province called Mufumbwe (and, of course, the 17-hour ride that took us back). Although the improvement of roads is a priority of the government and international investment has dramatically increased the number and length of paved roads, five hours of that 17-hour journey was over dirt and gravel.
The word “potholes” doesn’t adequately describe the craters that marked our path. The previous rainy season had left holes half the size of our bus, requiring our driver to circumvent these obstacles at a painfully slow speed for hours at a time. The random herds of goats or the odd stray ox were nothing compared to these mammoth ditches, which regularly threatened to tip us over, especially after the sun went down.
We arrived in Mufumbwe hours after our expected arrival, in a darkness untouched by electricity. Had it still been light, we might have noticed that we were covered from head to toe in red African dust. Had it still been light, we might have realized that the inside of our bus looked like this:
No, that information would come later…on the return trip back to Lusaka.
4 comments:
Isn't it amazing how affordable things are in Ethiopia? I know you must miss your morning Macchiato! I have thought about this expense factor, too, in looking at upcoming travels for the year. We were definitely fortunate with our accomodations in Ethiopia. I can just imagine the bucket of warmed water for your shower and such that you had on your other trip. I wonder and hope that I could do that. It is very brave.
I need a macchiato! Only an Ethiopian one will do! Enjoying your blog. :)
Hi there! So, are you going to start blogging again soon???
I'm looking forward to reading about your adoption! Feel free to email me with any thoughts or questions, or just to chat. laurzie@ahinsulation.com And, how incredible that you were able to meet Elianna Ray! :D
Hi Christine, we don't know eachother but we seemed to sort of be lumped together on another blog. I'm here to SAFELY say that I couldn't agree with you more about your comments there. You are very well spoken. Happy travels! ;)
Leslie M.
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