Having enjoyed the luxurious Hawassa lifestyle, and put off the inevitable as long as possible, I realised it was time to experience the Adola life; thus my first experience of the pleasures of travelling long distance by bus in Ethiopia.  I had already done the journey there and back with the driver from VSO to drop off my stuff the Thursday before the Meskel long weekend in Hawassa, but that had been in a 4WD.  I knew the route and this meant that I was at least partially prepared for the 40km stretch of road that had not yet been covered in the wonders of tarmac.

Todd, my host in Hawassa, kindly accompanied me to the Hawassa bus terminal, we debated travel by Bajaj (the local name for a TukTuk), but opted instead for the 30 minute walk, there having been a dearth of these fine vehicles.  We arrived around 6.30am and were pointed in the right direction for the Adola bus by several kindly locals.  Having heard that these vehicles frequently depart early, I eagerly clambered aboard, only to find that I was the sole passenger.  By this point Todd was off having a coffee somewhere.  After a short period waiting, and realising that no other passenger had yet boarded, I made enquiries as to when the bus would leave and was told “eight”.  Now herein lies a problem.  In Ethiopia they mark time slightly differently and start their day at what we foreigners would call 6 o’clock.  This they refer to as 12 o’clock.  When 8 o’clock foreigner time came and went with only one additional passenger I started to get a little nervous.  I began to wonder if they had meant Ethiopian time, where 8 o’clock would be 2 in the afternoon. My thoughts turned enviously to Todd enjoying a coffee and some fine breakfast somewhere.  At about 9.30am foreigner time my anxiety grew.  I had been on the bus 3 hours by this point and was just deciding that I would get off, stretch my legs and buy a bottle of water, when the driver jumped on board and slowly, but definitely, the bus began to creep towards the exit to the terminal.  I really wish I had bought a bottle of water.

The road wasn’t in the best condition, but was sealed, the bus with its contingent of 6 passengers picked up speed and wound its way around the various animals that share the road.  The driver seemed quite keen to avoid these, but was less tolerant of human obstacles and on a few occasions during the journey seem to actually drive directly towards people on the road, blowing the bus’ horn furiously.  They managed to scatter out of his way at the last minute.

About 40 to 50 Km south of Hawassa there is a left turn for the road to Adola, here the condition of the road improved – unsurprisingly since it has only just been sealed in the last couple of years.  This was obviously of great delight to the bus driver who quite happily increased the bus’ speed.  Now this was all very well, except the route to Adola is over some mountains and this meant that the road tends to wind back and forth as it climbs.  How fortunate I was to be sat near the front of the bus with such a fantastic view of the moment the driver took a corner too fast, braking and ending up on the other side of the road stopping just short of a theme park ride down to the valley below.  There were no seatbelts on the bus, but then again, they probably wouldn’t have helped.

It was with some relief that we stopped a short while later in the town of Bore.  This seems to be the stopping place of all buses heading down the road and trucks too.  It’s about half-way between Hawassa and Adola and by this point 2 ½ hours into the journey (+ the 3 hours waiting) I was feeling thirsty and a little peckish.  Something was said to me in Amharic and another person kindly translated this to English – it was lunch time.

The small restaurant had no menu.  My lack of Amharic lead to the ordering of “tibs” (fried meat) with “dabbo” (bread). The only things whose names I could remember.  It eventually arrived along with a wonderful bottle of water, but I only had time to eat about half of it before it was time to get back on the bus for the last stretch.  Half of my lunch left behind, but clutching the water I returned to what, until recently, I considered a rather uncomfortable seat – I have since learned that I had been travelling in relative luxury.

A short time later we arrived at the incomplete section of the road and the journey changed from relatively smooth to bone-rattling discomfort.  At least the driver slowed down a little.  Although this stretch of road covered about 1/5 of the route it took up nearly 1/3 of the journey time.  When they finish that section, the journey should be fairly straightforward; apart from the swerving to avoid livestock and the odd Bajaj.

Somehow we made it to Adola and seeing the college fly past I cried “Woraj”, which eventually filtered through to the driver who ground to a halt about half a mile down the road.  Grabbing my belongings I stepped down, ready to begin my new life.

I would like to cast myself as a sort of reluctant hero type, jetting off to save the world, but know that the reality is far from the truth, well the hero part anyway.  Reluctance definitely plays a big part.  For example I was reluctant to give up the safety net of fellow furenji (as we foreigners are affectionately known here) and head to my placement.  This led to my spending last weekend, a long weekend thanks to the Ethiopian public holiday of Meskel, in the company of several volunteers who have the good fortune of finding themselves based in Hawassa- the great lakeside town of southern Ethiopia.  This place positively bustles, with high-end hotels and quite possibly a higher density of furenji than anywhere else in Ethiopia.  Certainly the VSO volunteer to Ethiopian ratio is higher than anywhere else, although there are more volunteers based in Addis.

Hawassa has supermarkets, flash restaurants and a plethora of sights and sounds to amuse the eyes and ears.  Great Hippos occasionally surface on the lake and there are hills to climb replete with following crowds of children crying “you! You! Furenji!” followed swiftly by “money, give me money” or slightly less demanding requests for chocolate or pens.  None showed the inventiveness of the girl in Addis who demanded 5000 Birr (about £160) with a beaming a smile, but they did show us a goat path down the hill towards the fish market.  My fellow furenji were more tolerant and appeared at one stage to be as pipers of Hamlyn with a crowd of children bustling behind.  Nonetheless we made it down alive and with all with which we had begun our journey – plus memories of spectacular views across the town.  It looked even more impressive from on high.

There is however a price to pay for the Hawassa experience.  Being sociable and eating out, particularly in the more salubrious establishments, can impact on the pocket.  For example a night out at the Venice restaurant left me a good £5 poorer.  It doesn’t seem like much until you realise that the allowance VSO provides gives a daily budget of £3 and you have just paid out nearly two days worth in the space of a few hours.  Food parcels gratefully accepted- assuming they make it through the rigours of customs (and bear in mind it can take months for things to arrive).

All this having been said, it was a very worthwhile weekend, even if it did involve missing the big bonfires of Meskel on the Thursday due to confusion about when the actual celebration took place.  Still, I will have another opportunity next year and now I know when it happens I shall make sure I get a ringside seat, well maybe not too close- I don’t want to introduce the concept of the “guy” to Ethiopia.

The highlights were definitely hanging out with the other volunteers as we rooted out a number of fine establishments for the imbibing of coffee and fruit juices, not to mention the pot luck of choosing breakfasts at the wonderful Titem restaurant from a menu all in Amharic… number 5 & 7 on one day and 8 & 14 the next.  Either all the food is good or we struck lucky each time.  I can now read the Amharic for Tuna and have learned the Amharic word for fish (Asa) – trust me to end up near one of the few places where fish is readily available in a landlocked country.

Will I go back to Hawassa?  Certainly, when I am in need of something resembling civilisation.  There are many sights still to be seen and that Titem Special Burger, that slipped from my gasp on one of the many evening power cuts, still calls.  I have instructed the resident volunteers to produce a rota for putting me up, although they may be relieved to hear that the costs of travel in both time and money make it quite challenging to be too regular a visitor.  Plus I really need to give Adola at least a bit of a chance… after all, there is a gold mine nearby. Hiiiii Hooooo….