So we finally end up on a flight to Bahir Dar, on a plane that’s about the size of a matchbox. I end up sitting next to a man in his mid-40s, who doesn’t speak to me until we’re descending and the plane is bouncing up and down in a rather terrifying manner. He starts talking to me about Bahir Dar and how beautiful it is, and how it is hot. I ask him what he does, and he whispers, ‘I am in the army.”  I yell, “EH?” and make him repeat it about 17 times, until I can hear him over the plane’s motor. When I tell him that I will tell T to wear sunscreen so he doesn’t burn, the man reaches over to stroke my arm. “Your skin is pale,” he says. “My skin is like chocolate.” I smile at him, thinking how if I was in America and some dude did that, I would be jumping out the window, with or without a parachute. It seems much more appropriate on a tiny plane above the deserts of Ethiopia.

When we get there, we’re all standing around the baggage claim, waiting for our bags. There don’t appear to be any taxis, and as I am walking out the front door, a man sitting on the wall yells to me, “We are waiting for you!” But he is holding a sign for a hotel I don’t know, and I stand there like a confused dog, trying to figure out how he knows me, until I realize he just wants our business. We end up getting a ride into town with him and his friends, though, and they pitch us their guiding skills. Bahir Dar is the most beautiful city in Africa, after Cape Town, they say. They’re friendly and funny, and we think we’ll go with them tomorrow.

We get to the hotel, which is actually more like a motel, which is actually more like a roach palace. We end up with two rooms without bathrooms because they didn’t answer the phone when we tried make reservations. The beds are tiny, with old, musty bedspreads, and the squat toilets are some of the worst I have seen on this trip (blood spattered Shanghai squat withstanding). But we’re starving, and our guidebook says the food at this hotel is some of the best in Ethiopia. And they’re right. They bring us a steaming bowl of shiro, which we scarf down with local beer. It is %$#@ing good. Quite possibly the best shiro any of us has had.

After we shovel down the shiro, we walk around. Bahir Dar is pretty, but I can’t imagine it compares to Cape Town. It’s on the shores of Lake Tana, the biggest lake in Ethiopia. The streets are wide boulevards, with bright blooming trees on the sides. It’s a quiet place, and people seem to stare at us more than in Addis, but it could be that we are three ferenge girls with one ferenge man. We start to joke about being T’s wives, and wonder if the people staring think the same thing. For dinner, we stop at a pub and have more beer, but ultimately decide we need some more of that shiro. So it’s back to the hotel, where we chow down some more and then jump into bed with our eyes closed. In the morning, we are upgraded to rooms with ensuite showers, but ours doesn’t work.

One of the first people we met at the hotel was a tiny employee who said he could organize a tour of the monasteries on the lake. We dodged him, the way we dodged the guys who drove us into town, saying we would think about it. In the morning (as we are eating shiro AGAIN), we don’t see him, so we think maybe he forgot. Instead, we end up talking to a lanky young guy sitting at the table next to us. He says he will take us on a tour, and since no one else is around, we agree. His rates sound crazy, but it’s Ethiopian Easter, and we can afford it–we just don’t want to pay it. But we say yes anyway, and as soon as we do, the driver shows up. He takes our no gracefully, and wishes us luck. As we are walking out the door of the hotel with Yilnikal, the world’s most expensive tour guide, the little dude from the hotel shows up. He freaks out about us going with Yilnikal, chasing us down the road and telling us that he is not trustworthy. When we tell him how much we are paying, his head almost flies off and he really loses it. Eventually, we tell him thank you, but we have already told Yilnikal we will go with him.

But Yilnikal can’t find a boat. And so we stand around for about an hour while he calls people, and yells to people from the shores of the river, and we contemplate going back to the tiny dude at the hotel or finding the driver somehow. Eventually, he finds one, though, and we all get in. The lake is pretty, and we motor across until we get to the first island, with a bunch of monasteries on it.

The monasteries are basically big tukuls, with shockingly bright murals on the walls inside. The painting is electric–much brighter than anything else in the dusty brown area. But after a while, they all start to look alike. I take picture after picture of Jesus and saints and Mary and hope the color will come through in the prints. Every time we exit a monastery, we are surrounded by locals selling trinkets, and every time we see them, we say no.
Finally, Yilnikal takes us to lunch at his friend’s house. It is a one-room house without electricity. We sit on a bench and watch as his friend’s poor mother and sister rush around and cook for us. Yilnikal and his friends give us homemade beer and gin, and we sip it carefully. Halfway through the meal, he raises his eyebrows and tells us that he will knock $25 off the price of the tour if we do a shot of gin. Done. Kate chugs that baby like it’s water and he stares at her with pure love in his eyes. He says he will knock another $25 off, cutting the price in half, if she does another one. I think he was still making the offer when she took the glass and threw it back. Thank God for the strong livers of the young.

As we eat our injera with wat, Yilnikal and his friends chow down on a big ole raw steak. They hack into it with a rusty knife, and then rip pieces of flesh off with their hands, as if it’s a beautiful filet mignon. They offer us some, but raw meat is even less appealing than homemade gin, so we say no. Kate may be brave, but she’s not stupid, and eating that after she drank the gin could make her throw up, in which case she would forfeit the whole deal.

We made our way through the woods (very carefully, because Yilnikal’s deal was contingent on Kate not walking into trees) and some kids run up and hold our hands on the walk. We end up going to a couple more islands, including one that was a nunnery. T is allowed on the island for some reason, but we three girls are not allowed onto the one remaining men’s island. And no, I am not bitter about that (big lie).

When we get back to town, we pay Yilnikal $50 and tell him we’ll meet up with him later. We skip off, congratulating Kate on her tremendous drinking skills, and head back to the hotel. We hang out there for a while and are just on our way to get a non-shiro dinner when he cruises back in with his friend. They take us to dinner at a local restaurant (where the shiro is no match for the Bahir Dar Hotel), and then to a club. After dinner, we walk down the wide street, and Yilnikal tells me he has a secret. He loves Kate. Shocker. Will I help him get together with her? I tell him she has a boyfriend in America, but he doesn’t care. IT IS LOVE! SHE IS THE ONE FOR HIM! We keep walking down the street, with him whispering his ‘mister’ (Amharic for secret) and Kate looking suspiciously back at us. He tells me his plan–he will get a hotel room at the hotel, and he will invite her to speak to him, and she will be unable to resist his charms! I say, sure, try it, knowing Kate will never go for it.

He brings us to a tiny, tiny bar crammed full of people. We are the only white people there, and the place is full of sweaty, happy locals dancing to Ethiopian music. The room is about 15×15′ and there is barely room to stand, let alone dance. And so, we are all soaking wet and laughing and pressed up against other (which I am pretty sure was Yilnikal’s plan). There is a tiny child behind the counter who stares at us, wide-eyed. When we try to speak to her, she cries. It is the kind of scene we would never have found without a local and it makes Yilnikal’s inflated rates all worth it.

On the way home, he makes his move. T, M and I all walk back together, and he walks with Kate. We hear snippets of their conversation; mostly her saying things like, “No, I really don’t want to go to a room with you,” and “Yeah, I’m not going to sleep with you,” very loudly. We make it back to the hotel where Kate sleeps with M and Yilnikal promises to meet us in the morning to take us to the airport.