After an 18 hour ferry across the Egyptian-Sudanese border, the parasitic Egyptian street folk long behind us now, we endured thirty-six hours on the weekly train from Wadi Halfa to Khartoum, Sudan's capital. We stepped onto the carriage blissfully unaware of our near future. We were about to glean much wisdom in the realm of relativity. Riding a camel is smoother than this train. Carriages incessantly swayed, bounced, and shunted. But the concern of a major derailment was pushed way back into the crevices of consciousness after an apocalyptic dust storm made permanent residence in our cabin. Bleekness redefined. Undoubtedly, we braved the WORST TRAIN RIDE IN THE WORLD, EVER. This video was taken on an average stretch of track...
The rest of our stay in Sudan was relatively uneventful, except for Dave's bag flying off the taxi roof at 100 km/h and tumbling along the dirt road before splashing into a mud puddle with a solid thud. The glass (tsk, tsk) bottle of white tummy medicine did not survive the crash...
The Sudanese-Ethiopian border crossing is the WORST ON EARTH. Mud and donkey shyte. Bare feet. Not nice. Dave's disapproving look speaks volumes...
We were in high spirits when we found out we could catch a ride out of those bleek conditions that very afternoon. We jumped into the taxi with no quibbles, especially after having acquired our first beer in many moons...
"3 hours", they mused, "and you'll reach Gondar, gateway to the Ethiopian Highlands". Then came the worst taxi ride ever experienced by man. Our skeletons aged a decade after being jarred for a day and a half on the non-road. A four day trek into the Simen Mountains soon soothed our trauma though...
We camped, at one with nature, my tent the only one infiltrated by a yet unidentified biting insect. Life cycle of bites: ongoing (estimated 4-5 weeks). Not your average mozzie bite. Great views, perfect training for Kilimanjaro. We retreated to Gondar before heading to Addis Ababa. At this stage our moustaches were really beginning to flourish...
Capital city ho, we cruised into Addis Ababa and chilled out. Jon pushed the fashion envelope further by going to the barber - and leaving with a mohawk, tache still in place. Dave is still adamant about not shaving his head, and the women are really loving his style...
Refreshed and recharged (despite the semi-frequently recurring bouts of stomach issues) we charged towards Kenya, the NEW promised land (Ethiopia lost its status as land of milk and honey after we experienced nothing milk-and-honey-ish about it, except for great macchiato coffees and a cheap but great pizza joint, a highlight of our capital city experience). We hit Moyale, the border town with one foot in Ethiopia, the other in Kenya.
Our next journey was, undoubtedly, the WORST BUS RIDE ON EARTH, due to the WORST ROAD ON EARTH being the chosen path. Dubbed the "Nairobi Express", this behemoth of a trip erodes one's will to live. The sagging aisle end of the bench left us with lingering bum cheek bruising, sleep was impossible (22 hours, non-stop except for food and toilet breaks, by the way),
and our communal kitty had been depleted (due to a lack of ATMs) to the point where a PLATE OF BEANS was beyond our means. We humbly sat outside a lonely desert canteen with a few stale bread rolls, a bit of honey, and some bananas while the locals strolled right in for a hearty meal of meat, potatoes, veg, and bread.
THEN WE REACHED THE PROMISED LAND, NAIROBI.
Fast food outlets, tarred streets, internet cafes, supermarkets, pubs, and ATMs with which to fund all these indulgences. We wallowed in the Springbok's victory...
A few days of fattening up have seen us ready to stray from this haven of civilisation into a 3 day masai-mara safari (fully catered, admittedly, but we damn well deserve it), where we will hopefully catch sight of some of the wildebeest migration. Watch this space.
