Day 210 - Gregory Goes to The Doctor and Almost Somewhere Else
Tuesday, January 29th, 2019.
We stayed home all day. I slept all morning and all afternoon. I only woke up to eat, do the laundry and write a little bit. Sunshine and Daniel are very frustrated because the Internet connection is awful. Here we are at home, with all the time in the world to do homework, to catch up on the blog, to plan our next country and no Internet to do it.
Gregory made an appointment to see a dermatologist. He called this morning and in the afternoon he had an appointment.
[Gregory's POV:]
I had a heat rash and needed something for it. I also wanted to make sure it wasn't anything worse, so I asked a Rotarian doctor for a referral. He gave me the name of a clinic nearby. I called in the late morning and had an appointment for 4pm. I used Ride to call a car and a short time later I was at the building. I found the office upstairs, just past the 2-1/2th floor (for those of you who get that reference).
I walked in, the receptionist handed me a form and I was thinking, uh-oh, here we go -- an hour of paperwork, a long wait, just like at home. But she asked my name, age, neighborhood, and phone number. As soon as I filled that out, I had to pay -- 300 birr, about $10. Then she showed me into the doctor's office. The doctor checked me out, and in a few minutes, she had a prescription for me. She told me to go downstairs to the pharmacy where they whipped up the medicine. I had a coffee nearby while I waited. That came to about $8.
After that, I decided I would take a "public taxi" (aka minibus) to get home. These are 7 passenger vans that seat about 15 plus the driver and fare collector, who usually rides halfway out the back side window or out the sliding door, yelling out the van's destination. They charge 3-5 birr per passenger, about $0.05 - $0.10.
When I went to the line of minibuses and told them where I was going, they just laughed. I was about 1.5km (1 mile) from home, and they told me no buses went that short of a distance. 2 guys actually pointed the general direction that I should walk! We've seen that before here -- people just walk. Either they don't have the money or they have a lot of time. Or both. But it's a walking culture. Hey, as long as the weather and the time permit it, that's great. It's healthier, anyway.
I took the scenic route, past all this new Chinese construction. There is new construction all over Addis, and 99% of it is Chinese, including the tallest building in Addis, a 45-story tower which will be the new headquarters for the Commercial Bank of Ethiopia. The word "China" is replacing the word "faranja" for foreigner.
Speaking of faranja, you may notice a few spellings of it -- faranja, faranje, faranj -- since the alphabet here is Ge'ez, Latin letters are only used for transliteration, so it doesn't matter how it's spelled. Mount Entoto, Intoto, Antoto -- it's all the same place. Street signs can be inconsistent, so you better know where you're going. We have often seen chiz, chizz, and chez senwich on the menu.
It's also impossible to walk in Addis without passing a few embassies. They're all over the place! That means there are armed guards all over, which is a comfort at times. I stopped at a fair trade handicraft store -- a hallmark of the traditional crafts here is that they contain imperfections, which bugs me. Even the imperial crowns are just a little off -- the chains are uneven, the jewels aren't circles. Lines aren't straight. But the more recent (and expensive) stuff is much better made. The materials and patterns are rich and gorgeous.
As I was about to turn onto our street, a guy ran up to me and said, "Hey, remember me from the hotel? I just changed outfits."
I was wondering which hotel when he continued.
"There's a celebration today, all the girls from Shashamane come to dance! Want to go?"
I was thinking of the religious ceremonies with hundreds of people dancing in the streets. The people from Shashamane are known to be Rastafarians, so that might be cool. If it was a close walk, I could go.
"Where is it?" I asked him.
"Very near! Just up the street. 200 meters."
Well, it wasn't even out of my way. 200 meters was pretty close for a ceremony, and it was a main street that I knew. So I followed him. He stopped to greet a girl he knew. He introduced her to me as a coworker. We shook hands and continued up the street.
After a few hundred meters, I asked, "Is it much farther? We should be there by now."
The guy, who had been talking nonstop, adding girls from other cities -- Dire Dawa, Awassa, Bahir Dar to the list -- said, "Oh, it's nearby. Let's take a taxi. Only 5 birr. I pay!"
At this point, I was getting suspicious. Especially because his descriptions started sounding a lot less like a religious ceremony and more like the opposite.
"No, that's OK. I thought it was 100 meters' walk. My family is waiting for me. I should go."
"No, no -- look, we can take a shortcut."
He pointed to a narrow dirt road that curved a few meters up.
"Oh, no thanks. I'll just go home to my family. They're waiting for me for dinner."
"Maybe you're free after dinner? I come home with you and wait." He was persistent! Well, I get it -- a single white male, walking alone in a nice neighborhood...
"No, thanks. Don't wait."
"I take you home."
"No thanks, I can walk by myself."
"No, this is no good street."
"I live here. I know these people. I can go by myself, thanks."
He made me take his number so I could call him after dinner.
"I might call if I have time. Thanks," I said, and walked away.
"Be careful of your wallet!" he called after me.
He's warning me to be careful after trying to get me into an empty dirt alley? Interesting. Anyway, it was an uneventful walk home. No one tried to bother me, they just stared and waved or smiled when I did.
Thus endeth the day. And the medicine worked like a charm!
Gregory made an appointment to see a dermatologist. He called this morning and in the afternoon he had an appointment.
[Gregory's POV:]
I had a heat rash and needed something for it. I also wanted to make sure it wasn't anything worse, so I asked a Rotarian doctor for a referral. He gave me the name of a clinic nearby. I called in the late morning and had an appointment for 4pm. I used Ride to call a car and a short time later I was at the building. I found the office upstairs, just past the 2-1/2th floor (for those of you who get that reference).
I walked in, the receptionist handed me a form and I was thinking, uh-oh, here we go -- an hour of paperwork, a long wait, just like at home. But she asked my name, age, neighborhood, and phone number. As soon as I filled that out, I had to pay -- 300 birr, about $10. Then she showed me into the doctor's office. The doctor checked me out, and in a few minutes, she had a prescription for me. She told me to go downstairs to the pharmacy where they whipped up the medicine. I had a coffee nearby while I waited. That came to about $8.
After that, I decided I would take a "public taxi" (aka minibus) to get home. These are 7 passenger vans that seat about 15 plus the driver and fare collector, who usually rides halfway out the back side window or out the sliding door, yelling out the van's destination. They charge 3-5 birr per passenger, about $0.05 - $0.10.
When I went to the line of minibuses and told them where I was going, they just laughed. I was about 1.5km (1 mile) from home, and they told me no buses went that short of a distance. 2 guys actually pointed the general direction that I should walk! We've seen that before here -- people just walk. Either they don't have the money or they have a lot of time. Or both. But it's a walking culture. Hey, as long as the weather and the time permit it, that's great. It's healthier, anyway.
I took the scenic route, past all this new Chinese construction. There is new construction all over Addis, and 99% of it is Chinese, including the tallest building in Addis, a 45-story tower which will be the new headquarters for the Commercial Bank of Ethiopia. The word "China" is replacing the word "faranja" for foreigner.
Speaking of faranja, you may notice a few spellings of it -- faranja, faranje, faranj -- since the alphabet here is Ge'ez, Latin letters are only used for transliteration, so it doesn't matter how it's spelled. Mount Entoto, Intoto, Antoto -- it's all the same place. Street signs can be inconsistent, so you better know where you're going. We have often seen chiz, chizz, and chez senwich on the menu.
It's also impossible to walk in Addis without passing a few embassies. They're all over the place! That means there are armed guards all over, which is a comfort at times. I stopped at a fair trade handicraft store -- a hallmark of the traditional crafts here is that they contain imperfections, which bugs me. Even the imperial crowns are just a little off -- the chains are uneven, the jewels aren't circles. Lines aren't straight. But the more recent (and expensive) stuff is much better made. The materials and patterns are rich and gorgeous.
As I was about to turn onto our street, a guy ran up to me and said, "Hey, remember me from the hotel? I just changed outfits."
I was wondering which hotel when he continued.
"There's a celebration today, all the girls from Shashamane come to dance! Want to go?"
I was thinking of the religious ceremonies with hundreds of people dancing in the streets. The people from Shashamane are known to be Rastafarians, so that might be cool. If it was a close walk, I could go.
"Where is it?" I asked him.
"Very near! Just up the street. 200 meters."
Well, it wasn't even out of my way. 200 meters was pretty close for a ceremony, and it was a main street that I knew. So I followed him. He stopped to greet a girl he knew. He introduced her to me as a coworker. We shook hands and continued up the street.
After a few hundred meters, I asked, "Is it much farther? We should be there by now."
The guy, who had been talking nonstop, adding girls from other cities -- Dire Dawa, Awassa, Bahir Dar to the list -- said, "Oh, it's nearby. Let's take a taxi. Only 5 birr. I pay!"
At this point, I was getting suspicious. Especially because his descriptions started sounding a lot less like a religious ceremony and more like the opposite.
"No, that's OK. I thought it was 100 meters' walk. My family is waiting for me. I should go."
"No, no -- look, we can take a shortcut."
He pointed to a narrow dirt road that curved a few meters up.
"Oh, no thanks. I'll just go home to my family. They're waiting for me for dinner."
"Maybe you're free after dinner? I come home with you and wait." He was persistent! Well, I get it -- a single white male, walking alone in a nice neighborhood...
"No, thanks. Don't wait."
"I take you home."
"No thanks, I can walk by myself."
"No, this is no good street."
"I live here. I know these people. I can go by myself, thanks."
He made me take his number so I could call him after dinner.
"I might call if I have time. Thanks," I said, and walked away.
"Be careful of your wallet!" he called after me.
He's warning me to be careful after trying to get me into an empty dirt alley? Interesting. Anyway, it was an uneventful walk home. No one tried to bother me, they just stared and waved or smiled when I did.
Thus endeth the day. And the medicine worked like a charm!
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