As two brazen tourists visited Eritrea - Part 1

PORT NO COUNTRY COUNTRY WITHOUT PORT Bedreddin Ozgur, Turkey, half of the fourth morning. We are at a gas station in the town of Assab. Daily bus to Asmara is going to go. All accommodation, bedding and mattresses - all smelled someone's sweat, but I'm still hoping to sleep a few hours. We had a half day trip to the coast of the Red Sea - from the Danakil Depression, one of the hottest places in the world until the spring cool highlands. It is still very dark, but we already sweating in the absence of the slightest breeze. Always on guard I've tried to drag his backpack on the bus, while fighting off some fat women that took my place. From lack of sleep my attention was blunted in the end it was over the fact that I am in blood broke his nail on the big toe. Now the next two weeks I had to see to it that the injury does not festered, and that it did not pick her local flies. Between the towns of Assab and Massawa stretched black volcanic desert coast, where there is nothing but PPC employed bored soldiers - hunters for deserters. Eritrea is still on the brink of war with Ethiopia, which claims the territory of the small village of four hundred residents and 20 square miles of lifeless desert. The entire male population of the country mobilized for an indefinite period, 10 years of military service are not considered to be something unusual. Eritreans believe that Ethiopia really want Assab, which is a stand-alone port. In Ethiopia, there is everything but the port itself. Basically, for me personally, it makes sense, especially since Assab became a ghost town with abandoned and decaying port and a huge number of unemployed. But questions of national policy has never been my strong point, maybe it's my fault. Meanwhile, Eritrea, with its six million people threatened by war, Ethiopia, whose population is 80 million. It must have played into the hands of those in power: the ruling party of Ethiopia can crack down on dissidents and open fire on students, while in Eritrea, the regime can do the fueling antiefiopskih sentiment to establish their order. A boy carries firewood Just before sunset our bus stopped in a small village where we were given a meal and a bed with rope nets. In Eritrea, all much higher than in Ethiopia! People are still stunningly arranged: I have not seen the whole of Africa, but Zimbabwe is the first place where I was not favored (or disregard) only for the reason that I am "white." First of all here I am - a man, and such changes make me happy. With the economy in the country, not all is in order. Even such unsinkable companies like Coca-Cola and Pepsi had to curtail its presence due to lack of cash in the population. Now the "Coke" are brought on donkeys from the Sudan, and banks with "Pepsi", copies of famous perfume and plastic flowers were being taken to the dhow (Arab mast boat, ca. Perevi.) From Yemen. At 2:30 am the bus driver has signaled furiously and gazoval on the spot, trying to get passengers to hurry. Most people seem to equate "night in the desert under the stars" to romance surveillance shooting stars and reflections on the theme of impermanence of human life. From my own experience I can say that usually the night in the desert lies in the fact that you're falling from fatigue and heat evoked see vivid dreams. As you might expect, we drove about 100 meters to the nearest checkpoint, where its inhabitants (disgruntled by the fact that they were awakened in such inappropriate time) forced us to leave the bus and began his "search" in darkness without the aid of any artificial lighting. It was useless to get upset, so I slept on the ground by the wayside. By that time, as we continued, the clock showed 5:30 in the morning already. The driver, who was apparently caught on smuggling of grain from Djibouti to Asmara, left all their possessions at the border. Interestingly, in Djibouti, the grain imported from Ethiopia, because in most Djibouti nothing grows. During a halt on the road to Asmara I stripped to shorts, to fully feel the slight breeze, while my friend Javier continued to sweat in their tight military pants, socks and shoes. I never miss a chance to laugh at those who were not as lucky as me. After the Massawa bus began to climb the hill and walked the distance from summer to autumn in just three hours. Asmara welcomed us to a cool rain. Deadline for material: