Home away from home

I have been to Addis so much in the last year that it is starting to feel like a second home.  

Know how to get from the airport to my bed?  Check

Know how much it should cost to take a cab?  Check

Know that I am getting ripped off by a cab even though I know where I am going?  Check

Sitting, pretending to listen to people but really not hearing a word they are saying?  Checkmate

I have been here so much and worked with the same people for so long, that it is comfortable coming back.  As comfortable as one can be without sit down toilets at work.  OK, sure, apparently squat toilets are more hygienic but I don't care.  I'm an American and I like to sit down when I pee.  Luckily, I got upgraded at the hotel I am staying at.  When I checked in they gave me the key to a room that was deadbolted when I tried to get in (was someone else staying there? Possible.  I don't think so though.  I think it just somehow magically bolted itself from the inside.).  Since no one could get in, they gave me the room next door.  Which is basically a suite.  It is legitimately the size of the apartment I lived in for four years during my PhD.  Jacuzzi tub and a sit-down toilet.  I mean all the toilets are sit-down in the hotel, but not every tub is a jacuzzi tub.  Upgrade!!  So I am quite comfortable this time.

Something that throws me off though is that I am getting used to not understanding a word that anyone says, since everyone speaks in Amharic.  And since I don't understand a word that anyone else says, I forget that they can still understand what I say.  At least some of it.  So yesterday when we were in the cab (with a lovely driver who was not ripping us off), and I was complaining about something (hopefully nothing to do with Ethiopia), it surprised me when the driver started talking to us in perfect English.  Turns out he has two degrees from Addis Ababa university.  And it threw me off, because I have to admit that one of the things I have grown used to with travel is the language bubble.  So much of the time, you can say whatever you want, because no one will understand a word that you say; its like walking around in a little impermeable bubble.  If you are in a bad mood and want to complain about the fact that the person next to you really needs to take a shower, you probably can.  If someone is wearing a cropped t-shirt when they should be not wearing a cropped t-shirt, you can probably note it.  If the waiter is really cute, you can probably point it out.  Buuuuut, then something will remind me that maybe you better not do that.  Because maybe the taxi driver understands you, and maybe the man who needs to shower understands you, and maybe the crop top understands you, and almost certainly, the waiter will understand you.  So probably, its better to remember that the bubble is more like a screen door.  Some stuff gets in, some stuff gets out, and if you aren't careful it will hit you in the ass.

Good thing I wasn't saying that the cab driver was cute (although he was) or that he drove like a maniac (which he did).  

New blog name

I decided it was time to change the name of the blog.  The stories of the Littlest Linnea had a time and a place, but since lately my postings are more about my personal reflections on the world at large and less about specific adventures, it seemed like I needed a change.  Worry not, the blog won't change much.  I won't post more than a couple of times a year, the postings will largely be the ravings of an overly educated professional traveler, and my pictures will still mostly be of buildings with the occasional circumspect people shot.  And probably I will change the name again soon because I didn't really think too hard about this one.

I chose it for a couple reasons.  One, I wrote my dissertation on indirect demographic estimation techniques.  Don't worry if that doesn't mean anything to you.  Its just the idea of trying to estimate something without having all the information that you would really like.  Sort of a general metaphor for what I do, what we all do, really.  It would be great to have all the facts all the time, but since we don't, we do the best with what we can.  And of course transit, because it seems like I am traveling as much as I am home.  Always in transit, somewhere.  And since there are very rarely direct flights from point A to point B, in travel or in life, it seemed like a fitting name.  And so, for the next hour or day or year or however long it is until I change the name again, Indirect Transit it will be.

And I might even update this soon because I am probably going to Ethiopia in a couple weeks.  And on the way back I am going to try to swing by Istanbul.  So hopefully I can update with some new photos and adventures from a whole new part of the world!