Gotcha Day - Part IV

Thursday, January 6:  We are looking forward to being home and having our family of four together for the first time.  We have breakfast, finish packing, have lunch, and then Jon takes a cab to the Hilton Hotel, where Ethiopian Airlines has a reservation desk, to see if he can change our seats on the flight tonight, so that we are sitting together. 

Meanwhile, I speak with another family in our travel group who is on the same flights home (they live near Salem, Oregon), and we agree that we should just check out of the hotel at 4:00 p.m. to avoid paying an extra 50% room charge for late checkout.  We are very tired of being in the room anyways - at least the airport will be a change of scenery while we wait. 

Jon gets back - no luck changing our seat assignments, but he did do a little more shopping at the gift shops and has a surprise for me on the flight home (a heavy silver cross pendant).  At 3:30 p.m., we go downstairs to settle our bill.  The final bill for five nights lodging, all of our meals in the hotel restaurant, and laundry nearly every day?  $425 USD. 

Although we can charge to our VISA credit card, we decide to pay using the last of our cash, to avoid paying the surcharges by the hotel as well as our credit card company.  We cannot imagine what else we will need cash for on this trip; the shops and restaurants at the airport accept VISA as well.  No sooner have we taken our cash supply down to almost zero, then we notice that the gift shop in the lobby has an Ethiopian Art coffee pot that matches our new set of cups, tucked back on the bottom shelf.  (It was probably made in China, but that's okay!) How much?  1,800 birr.  Too much.  We offer 800, and finally agree on 1,000 (about $60).

The "gift shop" consists of four glass cases with items ranging from toiletries to clothes, shoes, jewelry, and yes, even a coffee pot.  The gentleman on the right is the shopkeeper; it is his shop, he seems to rent space from the hotel. 

Then we realize our mistake:  we do not have that much cash left.  The shopkeeper graciously offers to let us take the coffee pot, get cash at the airport ATM, and send it back with the Riviera van driver.  Instead, we go back to our room and look everywhere, finally coming up with the equivalent of 1,000 birr in three different currencies - Euro, USD, and ET Birr.  Success!

At 4:00 p.m. we go back down to the lobby to take the hotel van to the airport.  As we are leaving, the hotel manager invites us and the S family to participate in a coffee ceremony.  To celebrate Christmas Eve, the hotel has set up a coffee ceremony in the lobby for its guests.  This is an offer we can not refuse.  What an awesome way to end our trip, and we certainly have time -- our flight is not scheduled to leave until 10:15 p.m. 

The coffee beans are roasted over a small coal fire.  Traditionally, the beans would be crushed as part of the ceremony; today, they take them in the back and use an electric grinder to grind them into a fine powder.  

The ground coffee is put into the coffee pot (unfiltered), and hot water is poured in.  The design of the pot makes it possible to shake to mix, without water spilling out.  

The clay coffee pot is set directly on the coals, and incense is sprinkled on the fire. 

Fragrant greenery is spread on the floor as part of the Christmas tradition.  We see the same in many of the shops and restaurants at the airport later that night.

Jon drinks enough coffee for the both of us, and we reluctantly leave for the airport.  On the way, Amber S. looks at her daughter and says "enjoy the ride! this is your last time riding without a car seat."  I look at Isabella and imagine what she is thinking: "Mommy, enjoy the ride! this is your last time riding without me screaming to get out of the car seat..."

The line at the ticket counter at the airport is short because we are still so early. We check two blue tubs for the return trip, filled with our clothes and souvenirs, including the two wooden stools.  Despite all of the stuff that we are now checking, our carry-on bags are just as heavy as they were on the trip over.  Go figure! So much for packing light on the trip home.

Once inside the terminal, we wander around the shops and finally settle in at a restaurant. I gulp down two (or was it three?) glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and we share some palatable french fries while we wait for the time to pass.  Shortly after 9:00 p.m., we get in line for security into the waiting room for our flight to DC.  Although the main line is long, they have an express line for families traveling with children, so we get through fairly quickly and sit down.  There are not enough seats for everyone waiting to board; those who make it through later sit on the floor. 

As the time ticks away towards 10:15, we realize that our flight is going to be late.  We should be boarding by now, but there is no plane in sight.  They finally announce that yes, the flight is delayed. 

Friday, January 7. Melkam Gena - Happy Christmas in Ethiopia! 

Some time after midnight, we finally board the first leg of our flight home.  We are utterly exhausted before we even take off.  It is going to be a long 16 hour flight. 

The plane lands in Rome for about an hour, to let some passengers off and refuel.  Someone explains that all flights have to take on more fuel on the return flight, not because it takes that much more fuel (although it must, because the flight is longer the other direction), but because they cannot take on enough fuel in Addis because of the altitude (8,000 feet). 

Isabella is perfectly happy on the flight home. It makes no difference to her whether she is sitting on our laps in a hotel room or on a plane.  We, on the other hand, have many moments where we are tempted to break down and cry like a baby.  Sitting in the middle three seats, next to someone on the end, Jon in the middle and me on the aisle, we try to sleep, with little success.  While we pass on the food that is offered, Isabella guzzles her formula, which we are going through much faster than we had expected.  Just before we finally land in DC, she finished the last of the formula that we have packed. 

We get through Immigration and Customs fairly quickly, considering that we are among the last to deboard the plane.  About an hour after we land, we have boarding passes in hand and are headed quickly to find the gate for our flight to San Francisco.  What should have been a relaxing 5 hour layover is now a 2 hour scramble to make our connection.  With a quick stop at a news stand to purchase pre-mixed formula for the remainder of the trip, we get in line for security.  This line is slower than molasses.  By the time we make it through, getting a snack is out of the question and we are seriously concerned that we may miss our flight. 

We make it, with little time to spare. Tired and hungry, we are still very glad to be back on U.S. soil. 

Connecting through San Francisco, we finally land in Portland 37 hours after checking out of our hotel room.  Although we still have a long drive in front of us, we feel like we are finally home.  While the S's clean up in the bathroom - they have family, friends, and even a photographer meeting them at the airport - I tell Jon, again, how glad I am that we decided to arrive low-key, without being met by anyone.  I look as bad as I feel, tired and filthy; the thought of putting makeup on makes me shudder, and combing this greasy hair... eww!  There will be plenty of time to catch up with family and friends after we settle in at home.

Or so I think.  As we round the corner, we see... the Rogers family, holding "Welcome Home Isabella" signs and smiling.  It is SO good to see them, but seriously... they're taking photos?!  Cheri assures us that they will only send them to us and we will have complete discretion as to what happens to them from there.  Okay, it is a nice surprise after all!  We have so much to catch up on, but first, we need food.  Good old American comfort food.  Red Robin, anyone? 

My order of Cajun Clucks, fries, and cheese sticks taste so incredibly good.  Jon looks equally infatuated with his burger. Through mouthfuls of food, we share with the Rogers random stories of our trip and grin inanely at Isabella, in our arms at last. The Rogers' daughter, Magdalyn, four months older than Isabella and home since July, looks like a giant baby next to Isabella.  What a difference a few months makes!

From Red Robin, we hit the road home.  The last few miles, Jon confesses that he is in that painful-to-stay-awake stage; still, we make it.  Bouncing across the potholes in our driveway never felt so good. 

As we walk in the door at 9:00 p.m., Matthew comes running to greet Isabella.  Never mind Mommy and Daddy, his baby sister is the new center of attention and his goal is to make her laugh. 

We unceremoniously dump our luggage in the middle of the floor and collapse.  Our own bed feels heavenly. 

As I type this a few days later, Isabella is in our bed, sound asleep.  She too is home at last, and thriving.