It’s been one of those days.
I’ve been in touch with Air Madagascar’s Nairobi agent for weeks now, planning my flight to Madagascar. I’m trying to time things right so that I can travel between Addis Ababa and Nairobi by bus (a five-day journey), pick up my ticket and leave within the confines of a seven-day transit visa. The difference between a transit visa and tourist visa is $30 so it seems like an effort worth making. I thought things would work out, I’d have my flight confirmed and leave tomorrow on the bus.
But it’s not working out, I haven’t heard from the airline in three days and I have no idea if there’s a seat for me on the once-weekly flight to Tana. Even worse—I’ve been shopping. From the moment I arrived in Ethiopia I’ve been coveting the solid wooden stools and throne-like chairs. I went through my usual “but it’s too expensive… but what would a chair cost in the US… and what would an antique Ethiopian chair cost in the US…” conversation in my head and the chair won out. So I’ve been chair shopping and picked up a few more souvenirs to throw in the box.
When I was going to buy a stool I was planning on sending it through the post office but the chair might be as much as 20 kilos so it’s going freight. With the help of the Ethiopian friend of an American photographer living here I put a down payment on the chair and worked out that I could send the chair by Luftansa Cargo. It wasn’t until last night that I discovered that today is a national holiday and most things, including the post office and probably the cargo offices, are closed.
I’m usually one to sleep in but I got up at 7:30 this morning and immediately started burning CDs of my photos to send back with the chair. My hotel has scalding hot water so I took the opportunity to was almost all of my clothes and let them dry in the sun to hopefully get rid of whatever has been leaving me with lumpy red bites all over since I arrived in Lalibela. By 9am I was close to ready, having also had a photo session with my souvenirs and sketchbook so I tried calling the cargo office. There was no answer. The hotel owner called again and again before calling information and getting more useless numbers. It was closed and I was stuck. I can’t leave Addis until I ship my chair and there’s no way to ship it until tomorrow.
So I gave up and decided to go to one of the three ATMs in town and pick up some money since I only had about $1.25 in my pocket. The ATM nearest to my hotel refused my card and I assumed the machine was out of money or broken—pretty common situations here. So I picked up a croissant and macchiato for breakfast and walked North a mile or so to The Hilton, where anoter ATM is located. No luck. The staff there are extremely helpful and a concierge called the bank for me to see what was wrong. I was told that my bank was refusing the transaction, not the Ethiopian bank.
Now, I’ve had problems with my bank before for being overjealous in suspending my card. As soon as “Tajikistan” or Mongolia” pops up on their radar they freak out and put a hold on my card. That’s usually followed by a frantic email from my mom who’s trying to sort out the problem (this is why I gave her power of attorney on all my accounts, folks). I had another option, my other bank account’s ATM card which was securely hidden away in my bag in the hotel.
At the hotel I got a message from an Australian woman I’ve been hanging out with. The ride we thought we could catch with a traveler heading in his own car to Nairobi fell through. We would have to take the bus. For five days.
Racing back to the nearest ATM, I tried my backup ATM card, only to have it rejected after the first prompt. Although it’s a Mastercard and only Visa seems to work in Ethiopia the Plus symbol on the machine had given me hope. With my remaining few bir I stepped into an internet cafe to see what was going on. I wasn’t surprised to see a message from my mom telling me that my card had been suspended after it was discovered that it had been skimmed in Jordan and someone had my account number and pin. They were issuing me a new card—a horrible idea for someone all the way in Africa.
I was faced with a couple of dilemmas. First of all I had no money and my options were running out. Only one travelers check conversion is allowed during a stay in Ethiopia (and only if you’ve flown in—my sad face allowed them to led it slide that I didn’t have the required return ticket) with a maximum of $400. I used that up to pay for my car to The Omo Valley. I have a Visa credit card but a cash advance on that would be extremely expensive. Finally, I have about $120 in US cash left but I’d like to keep that for backup, for converting at the Kenyan border and besides, today is a holiday and all the banks are closed. My best hope was that my bank would lift the suspension on my card long enough for me to get some money to pay off my hotel bill, get some food and ship my chair.
My other dilemma was how to get that new card into my hands in Africa. My mom is going to have to courier it to me, probably in Kenya or Madagascar. Considering my credit card expires in May she could send that along too. A quick look on Fedex.com and I’m seeing rates of $75 for 7-day service and $120 for 3-day service. That’s steep and I wonder if I can survive for the last few months of my trip with my Mastercard for ATMs. I know Mastercard works in Kenya but haven’t figured out if it’s okay in Madagascar or Tanzania yet.
Luckily a few internet places are open today and I sat down with my laptop to call my bank over the internet using Skype. Skype is great to use because it’s cheap and I can call toll-free numbers, all of which aren’t accessible from outside the US on landlines. My favorite internet shop is having a May Day sale for it’s members so it’s was packed when I walked in and the connection was slow. After about fifteen minutes of repeated tries I got through to Eddie in Orlando and we talked about my problem. He agreed to lift the ban but it would take a few hours because no one was into work yet. He agreed to call my mom to verify things once the right people arrived and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The connection to my mom was much better and we were able to talk for a while before the owner asked me to say goodbye. Voice-over-internet calls are apparently illegal in Ethiopia. So in about two hours I will try the ATM in the big, empty yellow business center down the street and hopefully get enough cash in hand to get me out of Ethiopia.