Category: Friends

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The Dolphin

Behind the Sushi Bar at Dolphin

The Dolphin is the name of a restaurant in Hanalei that has been around for 30 years and is clearly a favorite of the locals.  When we ask where to go to dinner, Dolphin is a name that seems to appear in everyone’s list.  So we go.

We eat only sushi and love the whole experience.  They are completely full so we gladly sit at the sushi bar in Jeremy’s section, and he takes great care of us.  I would usually try to share now what we ordered to make sure that I remembered and to help suggest things for future goers; however, we put our fates completely in Jeremy’s hands and although he always told us what he was making us, most of it wasn’t on the menu.  We gave him no direction and he clearly made us what he was best at creating.

The meal was spectacular.  We had some fabulous poke, some fish that was torched right in front of us, rolls with tempura, nigiri with bacon on top, some with jalapenos, everything caught that day, everything delicious.  So good in fact that we return to sit in front of Jeremy the next night for an appetizer before continuing onwards.  And when we return, we will definitely come back.  Jeremy made us feel like a local, made us feel like we belong, made us feel like we have a friend in this new place.

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Touring Cartagena

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“Your taxi is here!” Olga exclaimed as we quickly decided what to pack for our day trip into Cartagena. Cash, cards, sunscreen, a couple of Cliff bars, both cameras. We came downstairs to find Olga and our driver for the day, Alberto Blanco, stooped over a map bickering over the best sites in the city, plotting our day with a pen and paper.

“Are you on your honeymoon?,” he asked as we cuddled in the backseat, equal parts giddy and anxious about the day’s adventures. Apart from our view of Cartagena in the airport taxi, we’d done almost no research to prepare us for what was ahead.

So we started at the only place to start: the top of the city. “…Si no has subido a la popa, no has vito a Cartagena!” the poster read.  Alberto had taken us under his wing, proudly describing the history and significance of the site. Pointing down toward the city, he explained the day ahead as we oriented ourselves in the heat of Cartagena.

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We ventured back down the steep drive, then up another, landing at Castillo San Felipe de Barajas castle. The audio tour was just 15,000 pesos extra ($5). We were already in a learning mindset, so we splurged, but the headphones hung a half-inch from either ear, making hearing the bombardment of names and dates nearly impossible. (We gave up and read the Wikipedia page instead.) With headphones wrapped around our necks, we stuck our bodies against the cool walls of the tunnels, walking around the castle to capture pictures so that we wouldn’t forget what heat exhaustion threatened to wipe from our memories. (Kinda dramatic, kinda not.)

Alberto swooped us away from the hat vendors (“Don’t buy them here. The price is not fair.”) and into his air-conditioned taxi where he blared jazz music as we drove into the walled city for lunch. Olga had chosen the destination, and we chose platters of chilled rose, ceviche, fish balls, and platters of shrimp served with a coconut rice we had come to love.

Ignoring the suggestion to venture from lunch to the gold museum, we strolled the walled city, popping in and out of air-conditioned stores for reprieve. There was something magic in the liveliness of color set against the suggested safety of the wall.

When we met back up with Alberto, he was eager to show us more, showing us how to sneak in to the most expensive hotel in all of Colombia and introducing us to his mother outside of his childhood home. One of us coaxed the other down from a heat-induced meltdown with the purchase of agua sin gas before Alberto insisted on driving us through the only neighborhood of Cartagena we hadn’t yet seen. We reasoned together that should we move to Cartagena, this is where we’d find our high-rise apartment.

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By 8:00, we were ready to relax over dinner at Carmen where we quickly decided on the extravagant tasting menu with wine pairings. Three hours later, we emerged full, relaxed, and a little bit tipsy. Alberto met us as planned, ready to drive us back to Olga’s, this time with his wife in the front seat. It had started to rain, and they bickered in Spanish about road safety during a rainstorm. “Don’t worry,” he told us. “If we cannot make it back, you will stay at our house. We have an extra bedroom, a bed, it will be for you, no charge.”
We made it back to Olga’s safely, and absolutely exhausted. We tucked ourselves into the mosquito net and drifted to sleep.

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La Finestra sul Lago

I spend two nights at this countryside home, and my bedroom window overlooks a beautiful lake, Lago di Vico, with the many walnut trees that surround it.  When I arrive, the whole family (including the three sizeable dogs) welcomes me.  Soon after, we turn on the soccer match on the television and enjoy a family meal together. Giuseppe, who is just about to start college, is a great translator and we bond over several cups of coffee, a digestive or two, and many games of pool and backgammon.

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The next day, I explore the nearby town of Ronciglione, where I run into a few driving challenges based on the tight and steep roads of the area.  I also make my way around the small lake, stop a couple times for snacks and coffee, and enjoy watching people pick the walnuts.  At first glance, I cannot figure out what everyone is doing, but it soon becomes obvious that people are picking the walnuts off the trees that extend over the fence onto the road.

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The second night, I again enjoy a family meal, this time with a couple of their friends.  The energy in the room is high and the mood is very jovial.  The family guests only speak Italian and so I pick up pieces of the conversation here and there, and occasionally Giuseppe brings me back in.  The food is very traditional Italian cuisine, and as I wrap up my second and last night at this wonderful host, I thank Airbnb for providing the opportunity for me to find such an experience about an hour north of Rome.

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Sabana Resort on Lake Langano

My last couple days in Ethiopia are spent rather luxuriously at Lake Langano.  Luckily, with the differences in economies and currencies, it wasn’t expensive to live it up for a couple days.  Harya, Hileena, and I gather a crew, hire a private mini-bus for the weekend, and head on south to Lake Langano.  The Sabana Resort is complete with a nice restaurant, a day spa, easy access to the lake’s silky waters, and comfortable rooms.  It is a nice way for me to say goodbye to Ethiopia.

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Everything goes relatively smoothly except for one unplanned adventure.  In the middle of the second night, the pipes under our sink break, and water starts gushing out all over the bathroom floor.  The hour is painfully late or early (depending on your perspective), and luckily Hileena wakes from the sound of the water.  She in turn then wakes Harya and Kit who try to figure out their next steps.  While doing so, they somehow manage to lock themselves out of the bathroom.  The current picture now hasa leaking pipe under a sink, a locked door, and water starting to seep towards the rest of the room.  Harya then comes and wakes me up thinking that I might be able to get through the locked door or fiddle with the lock mechanism enough to open it.  I play around for a while, but with limited success.  We end up dismantling the whole doorknob, but the situation only seems to get more dire.  We then try to call anyone and everyone at the resort, but every number leads us to no answer and another dead end.  Meanwhile, towels are being used to sop up the water coming under the door.  The towels are then wrung out on the patio so as to try to limit the potential water damage to the room.   Eventually after one of us runs around the resort looking for any sort of assistance, and we keep on calling every number that we can find, we get someone’s attention on the phone.  They do not seem surprised or alarmed by the situation, which leads us to believe that this might not be an uncommon occurrence, and they call in someone with the right tools to get through the door and repair the bathroom sink.  That all said, these couple of hours did provide a little extra excitement to the otherwise very relaxing weekend.

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Ethiopian dinner & dancing

Harya and her parents have been so welcoming to me here in Ethiopia.  From greeting me early in the morning at Bole International Airport to introducing me to numerous Ethiopian dishes to teaching me about the local culture and customs, they have gone out of their way to make me feel comfortable and at home.  On one night, they take me to a restaurant that also provides entertainment of local music and local dance.  The food is good, and the dancing is even better.  At one point, one of the dancers approaches our table and approaches us one by one to dance a couple 8-counts with her.

Thank you so much to Harya and her family for making me feel so comfortable!

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Ethiopian mini-buses

Although the minibuses are technically a means to get from one place to another, when taking them in and around Addis, they become an adventure in themselves.  Step one of the adventure is getting on the right bus.  Each bus is painted blue on its bottom half and white on its top, and each holds about ten passengers plus the driver and money-collector.  The money-collector leans out the side window and yells the bus’ destination.  However, even if I know which bus I am looking for, the names of the final destinations are pronounced so differently than what I would have expected, that I still find a hard time figuring out which bus is the correct bus.  For example, if I am headed to the stadium, which is near the center of town, “stadium” is pronounced as a one-syllable word that only contains the consonants from the original.  Harya and I hear “stdm, stdm” as they pass.  As of a couple years ago, there is stricter regulations surrounding over-packing these buses, and therefore, every passenger must have a “seat”, which is still not large by any means.  Harya and I eventually find a bus that has two open seats and is heading in the direction we want to travel, we board the bus, pay the very reasonable fare, and then continue on our way.

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We take many of these buses in our time in Addis as well as when we venture on our day trip to Kuriftu Lake.  For the most part, it is a relatively easy even if not the most comfortable experience.  However, there is one occasion where Harya and I find the last two available seats located in the back row, which they claim can fit four people across.  In the rows ahead of us, we smell that someone has lathered their hair with butter in the morning, and then probably has spent most of the day outside in the sun allowing the butter to become rancid.  I learn that buttering one’s hair can make it incredibly soft; however, I would prefer not to be victim to the smell of this process.  We are lucky that in this particular case, the windows of the mini-bus have not been sealed shut (as they often are) and we alternate between being smelling the heavy exhaust of the road and the rancid butter from the hair ahead of us.  This is a bit of a longer ride, as it is part of our journey back from the lake; however, we chalk it up as just part of the possibly too-authentic mini-bus experience.

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Kuriftu Lake in Bishoftu

This was a small piece of paradise just two hours worth of mini-buses outside of Addis.  For the very reasonable fee of about 12 USD per person, Harya and I enjoy a three-course lunch, lounging by Lake Kuriftu, and some kayaking.

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The famous Enrico Bakery

One of the highlights of today was our trip to the Enrico Bakery.  This bakery, which has been around for at least 50 years, makes a couple pastries that are known citywide and they are sold out minutes after taking them out of the oven.  Therefore, Harya and I venture over with some time to spare to ensure that I get to try this delicious treat from her childhood.  We get there a little on the early side because we hear that these delectable items are supposed to emerge around 3pm.  In the next half an hour, nothing appears except for more and more people that are clamoring for their snack.  Harya and I are meanwhile seated at a table near the window watching a girl no more than three years old sprint circles around the bakery.  Eventually, the impatience level rises among all of the customers, and Harya and I feel that the moment is near.  We agree that I will watch the table while she sneaks her way to the counter to collect our cakes.  She returns early and I am impressed not only by her ability to navigate the shop, but also by the taste of these pastries that have just been built up in my mind over the last hour.  We order more than we can eat because the price is relatively inexpensive and anything that we don’t eat, we are sure that we’ll be able to find others who will.

After the bakery, Harya and I walk through much of Addis Ababa taking in the sights, smells, and scenery.  We take turns holding the leftovers from the bakery and I later learn that based on the wrapper surrounding these extra pieces of cake, most people passing us can suspect what we are holding.  I had assumed that the funny looks coming in my direction had been because I don’t exactly fit in with the other people walking the streets of Addis, but I now think that it is probably a combination that includes my holding such a desirable snack.  When discussing said cakes amongst Harya’s friends later in the evening, I learn that some received them as treats for doing well in school or not crying when visiting the doctors or on very special occasions.  The Enrico Bakery with its very unassuming storefront seems to have been a delicious part of life in Addis for many years.

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Addis’ hilltop churches

After visiting Harya’s dad, who works as a professor at the University, and swinging by the Red Terror Museum to learn more of Ethiopia’s past, we venture up into the hills just north of Addis.  Although we are not far from the city, the air is clearer and cooler, the trees are more numerous, and life seems calmer.  We visit St. Raguel’s Church, where we inspect some very old caves and enjoy explanations on some of the very intricate paintings within the church.  We then continue on to Entoto St. Mary, where we learn of the history of the church and of Ethiopia more generally.  In front of Entoto, we witness many of the sick who have come to try to heal the illnesses of themselves or their children.  Today is both relaxing and educational.

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Our Ethiopian social circle

Our group here in Ethiopia is at the same time both quite diverse and strangely homogenous.  The crew that develops on our first day consists of several Ethiopians who have been educated abroad and foreigners, including myself and Kit, the son of the British Ambassador.  When we hit up some of their favorite spots such as the ice cream place, it seems that there is at least one link in every group to every other group.  In other words, this international community is both rather small and very well connected to each other.

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An added benefit of moving around with this group is that our conversations are usually about the past, present, and future of Ethiopia.  For example, we discuss the differences between how they view the country and how their parents thought of it.  We debate how optimistic we all should be about the Ethiopia’s future.  They share stories of parents being imprisoned because they were viewed as intellectual threats to the government in regimes past.  I learn how some troubles arise from how certain business sectors such as cell phones are either government owned or fully monopolized.  In just a few quick days being here in Ethiopia, I feel that I can now sympathize with at least this particular group’s perspectives on the state of the country.