From Addis Heartache to Gondar’s Calm: A Tumultuous Ethiopian Tale

1. Disaster struck in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s capital—my phone was stolen. It happened fast: a man pretended to accidentally spit on me, then whipped out his scarf to “clean” it, and in that messy, chaotic moment, he swiped my phone right from my pocket. I stood there, frozen, as he vanished into the crowd. The worst part? All my photos from traveling across Arab regions were gone—sunsets in Jordan, market scenes in Oman, candid shots of locals. Gone, just like that. 😳🤯😞 2. Back at my guesthouse near Kigali’s market later, a Chinese expat shook his head when I told him. “That’s the crudest scam out there,” he said. He explained that Addis’ security had unraveled: with internal warlord divisions, the authorities were too stretched to handle petty crime. “Muggings and thefts are rampant—even cops get their phones stolen,” he added. “You just have to accept it.” His words stung, but they matched the tension I’d felt in the streets. 🕵️♂️🔫😔 3. So despite Addis’ cluster of Chinese restaurants—comforting as they were—this wasn’t a city to linger in. Locals and expats alike warned: stick to cars, avoid walking. Every alley felt like a gamble, every crowd a potential threat. I booked a flight to Gondar the next morning, eager to leave the capital’s edginess behind. ✈️🍜🚶♂️ 4. The flight to Gondar left me on edge. I’d read the news: Gondar lies in Amhara Region, which had been tangled in conflict. Ever since Ethiopia lost its border war with Eritrea—tiny, just a tenth its size—its authority had crumbled, leaving regions restless. The Hano movement, born in Amhara, had stormed Bahir Dar, the regional capital, two months prior. Headlines screamed “danger,” but reality? Surprising. Locals smiled, went about their days, and when I asked about the Hano, they shrugged: “They’re freedom fighters. They don’t bother civilians.” Relief washed over me—Amhara felt safer than Addis. 🗞️🛡️😌 5. Gondar, Ethiopia’s former capital, held its own quiet charm. Its central royal palace, though, was a letdown—with no tourists around, it was wrapped in scaffolding, wooden poles crisscrossing its walls, hiding every historic detail. I pivoted to the churches instead, and they were a revelation. Ethiopia’s Coptic Orthodox churches are starkly different: low-slung, with murals in earthy tones, their interiors dimly lit by candlelight, feels more intimate than grand. 🕌🏰🎨 6. Wandering the streets, a local guide flagged me down, suggesting a trip to Simien Mountains to see baboons. With time to kill, I agreed—no haggling—for 60 USD: a guide, a porter, and an armed guard. The four of us made a odd but friendly group, keeping an eye out for each other. An hour’s drive later, the mountains loomed, green and rugged. I’d heard of the Beta Israel here—descendants of Jewish communities, said to trace back to Solomon and the Queen of Sheba—who’d clung to their faith even after Ethiopia turned Christian. “They’re all in Israel now,” the guide said. “Better lives there.” So, baboons it was. The air smelled of wild mint, crisp and fresh, and the baboons, bold but not aggressive, lounged on rocks. A binoculars would’ve helped—they stayed just out of close-up range. 🐒🗻🔭 7. Gondar felt like a world apart—my first true “Black Africa” city, and a peaceful one. Villagers plowed fields with wooden plows, horses pulled carts (though their wheels had been upgraded to tires, a tiny modern touch). A rough mud-brick hut served as the village meeting spot—with a cow dozing inside, no less. Men all carried wooden canes, women wore tall, braided hairstyles, and they gathered to drink coffee from tattered tin cans. Nearby, a boy stirred roasted beans with a twig, passing them around as snacks. It was simple, unpolished, and utterly authentic. For all the chaos I’d left behind, Gondar felt like a quiet gift. 🌾🐄☕ #EthiopiaTravelTales #GondarDiaries #AddisAbabaScam #SimienMountains #TravelChaosToCalm