The bus to Gonder was unusually miserable. I think because thought a single six hour ride would be nothing compared to the multi-day adventures we'd experienced earlier. But it was rough nonetheless. When we arrived we were unusually mean to the local kids who accost you trying to lead you to a hotel in return for a tip or commission or both.

You could mistake part of Gonder for somewhere in England. Inside the "Royal Enclosure" there are castles and buildings that could be straight out of Camelot. I've forgotten now exactly who built them and when, though it wasn't any European since as I think I've mentioned Ethiopia is the only African country never to have been colonized.

The buildings are remarkably well preserved and quite impressive. There's even an ongoing effort to restore them to their original state, after some rather unappealing changes were made by occupying Italian forces during World War II.

"Unappealing changes were made by British bombers."
Some other unappealing changes were made by British bombers who weren't aiming so much at the ancient castles as the Italians holed up inside. Nevertheless many of the buildings that had survived for centuries sadly bit it just a few decades ago. But if I'm headed for Europe next I suppose I'd better get used to stories like that.

After exploring Gonder's castles, dinner was quite a bizarre experience. I was still a bit ill from whatever had wiped me out in Bahir Dar and knew I couldn't stomach the njera at most of the restaurants in town. So we headed to the slightly upscale government-run hotel near ours. Our hotel, by the way, was stunningly clean and well-maintained. There was even a sink in the room. Matt went so far as to thank the proprietor for running such a wonderful establishment.

"The place was completely deserted."
It was like walking into a surreal movie. The place was completely deserted. Not a guest in sight, but the staff was going about things as though everything was normal. We walked under the sign that said "restaurant" only to find tables pushed against the walls and chairs stacked. Only a couple of tables were set up near the kitchen. It looked like a church basement after the women's auxillary cleaned up from the potluck dinner.

But it was open. The front desk clerk quickly herded us back into the restaurant and to one of the functioning tables and a waiter was awakened. As is usual in most of Africa most of what we tried to order from the menu was not available, but we found something suitable and had a reasonably decent meal in near complete silence. I think I had an egg sandwich. Writing this in Spain, having just come home from the market with a fresh three-foot baguette and freshly sliced ham and cheese, it's hard to imagine how tough it was to find decent food.

Back at our hotel we met an American doctor from Saint Louius. She'd been volunteering I think on AIDS projects. Like nearly every other volunteer we'd met in Africa she was a bit dejected and talked a lot about the futility of it all. It was such a common theme. Volunteers realizing not only that they're not personally making a difference, but that the big picture they're part of isn't making much of a difference, either. But she was quite nice and gave me some advice on my stomach problems. We had njera with her one night.

"Bombings, kidnappings and suicide operations."
Our fears about continuing to Sudan were heightened a bit when we did some internet and read that the threats the State Department was worried about included "bombings, kidnappings and suicide operations."

Along those lines, I write this now on a park bench in Bilbao, Spain. It's a beautiful, sunny, warm winter day. I'm a thousand miles from whatever's going on in Ehtiopia or Sudan and feel ever farther. It's almost like those places don't even exist they seem so distant. But I heard something yesterday that reminded me of Africa. I saw "Changing Lanes" on DVD. You know... the one where Ben Affleck and Samuel Jackson have a car wreck and go nuts on each other.

William Hurt, one of my favorite actors, has a small role in the movie and delivers a line I didn't even remember from the first time I'd seen it. He says...

Everything decent is held together by a covenant, an agreement not to go batshit.

I guess he's just restating the basics of Social Contract Theory (was that Locke?)... but traveling in the third world definitely gives you a clearer view of how true that is. That the world of three foot baguettes and siestas and quiet parks... is more ephemeral than we'd like to admit to ourselves.

I suppose September elecenth gave us a hint, but it's clearer to me now that as permanent as the "civilized world" may seem, we're just a few people going batshit away from living on dirt floors and traveling in barf buses.