A Berbera Bereft

This may come as a bit of a surprise, but the self-proclaimed Republic of Somaliland is not exactly a profusion of pleasurable places to peruse. After visiting the capital of the republic, Hargeisa, or some ancient rock paintings at Las Geel, then the only place left to check out is the fishing port of Berbera.

Berbera used to be something really cool. Berbera has always been

a port. I believe "Since forever" would be an appropriate scientific term. So when the colonial powers were deciding who would get what piece of the African pie which they took upon themselves to do, Berbera flourished. The era certainly left it's mark. The city is overflowing with colonial period architecture virtually un-restored since that period. The years after the Europeans pulled out, they left the artificially created borders. This did not bode well for the local Africans. War followed. Varies wars of various people fighting over the same thing, land. Berbera did not fair well. With Somaliland told to unite with Somalia, years of “bad times”. More war arose. Berbera is a bit like a mule beaten over the years, but still battling on. But the people here, too, have aged liked the architecture. I've long been a believer that people make a place memorable for me. People make a country, not buildings.

I was pleasantly surprised by my experience in Hargeisa. The people

were kind, honest and genuinely curious. Nobody really wanted anything but a handshake and a “hello”. I found Hargeisa welcoming. Not Berbera. With the exception of island folk, coastal fishermen are rarely a congenial sort. Distant and borderline surly were my impression of the people here. I guess a few rotten apples spoil the lot, right? Well, people here specifically told me, in English, “We no needs Canadians tourist”, “We no needs Christians”, “do your business, go away!”. The waiter seemed annoyed that i had ruined his nap with my presence in his restaurant. “Menu?”, i asked. “No menu” the waiter answered with great indifference. “What do you have?” i asked logically. “We have fish.” he said with as much distain as his indifference would allow. Gone was the rock-star sensation of walking around the block. Berbera was gritty.

But there is an attraction. Once you get past all the garbage and overwhelming stench of sunbaked fish heads lining the path, Berbera opens up to you. The beaches are long, impossibly long. And they range from surprisingly clean to borderline pristine. Frolicking on the beach, baring too much in some sort of swimwear designed by Speedo's European design team would be considered somewhat disrespectful to locals. But you can get far enough from anybody that it won't matter. Do keep in mind, though, the long natural “pier” topped with a lighthouse at the end, is an active military zone, and they don't take too kindly to visitors.I get it. You make all the effort to get to Somaliland, and you want

to see more than just Hargeisa. But i'm not sure it's worth it. Firstly, all hotels will tell you that you must go escorted at all times when outside Hargeisa. This is only half-true. What they fail to tell you is if you go to the main police station (not the central station) in Hargeisa, and you are lucky enough to find the Commissioner, he can give you permission to use public transport. If you go escorted, it could cost as much as $189. Public transport is around $5 (depending on vehicle and position in that vehicle). There is an International airport at Berbera, and Jubba air will transport you there from Hargeisa if you have a reservation with them. But again, i'm not sure it's worth it. I figure, if in the area with extra time, why not? But it shouldn't be a primary destination, not yet.

A One-Horse Hargeisa

There are some cities that leave you speechless. There are others that will have you lulling your family to sleep as you drone on soporifically at the dinner table. But then there are cities like Hargeisa, the capital of the pseudo-country of Somaliland.

That's not to say there's anything wrong with Hargeisa. On the contrary, i actually kind of liked it. But how much can you say about a city with

essentially 1 street? However “tourist attractions” are not what Hargeisa is about. It is instead the “tourist attentions”. Times have been rough on Hargeisa, Somaliland and indeed Somalia over the last couple decades, and it shows. The toll of decades of war and unrest are obvious on the city's face. There is a lack of basic infrastructure, abject poverty is rampant and security remains unsure. But things are getting better. Somaliland has done remarkably well in establishing all the criteria for an independent nation. They have a functional government, their own currency and even a large advertising, neon-esque screen lighting up the town's main square (or dare i say only square). Little by little in world is taking notice. Somaliland is increasingly popular for well-worn travellers and the NGO world is starting to set roots. But foreigners are still quite a novelty.

But there inlays the appeal. “Hello white man!” is shouted from nearly every little nook and cranny as you wander freely through the streets and markets.

This is not the hard-core war-zone some people may expect. In fact, if not for the occasional security check in and out of town or the odd traffic cop, you wouldn't notice any such armed presence as you would in Yemen or Kurdistan. These are no decapitating, kidnapping, bomb-planning pirates. These are good honest folks genuinely happy, and curious, to see you. There are none of the false conversations to try to sell you something like you'd find in Ethiopia. Just people who want to ask you name and maybe touch your white skin. But the overwhelming theme i had in the conversations with locals was they feel the international community has turned their collective backs on Somaliland. “Please, tell friends 'bout Somaliland. Here is peace and security. Come to Somaliland. Please tell them!” These people just want to be noticed. They merely want approval from the world for the great job they've done maintaining peace and stability in a region notorious for it's anarchy and chaos.

But for those who might need more motivation than merely being a

spectacle, there are a couple things to occupy a day in Hargeisa. The market is fun enough to wander around. And the camel and goat market, just outside the centre, is a great place to... well... check out goats and camels (keep in mind these are mostly desert folk and don't take too kindly to photos). The war memorial (with a MiG jet acting like an angel on a christmas tree) is rather sobering in it's bloody depictions. But possibly the coolest site are the endless rows of money changers. The thing is, Somaliland's currency is kind of funny. Although the exchange rate tends to fluctuate a lot, when i was there US$1 = 5,800 SlSh. Not such a big deal you might think. Perhaps i should mention that the largest bill they have is the 500 SlSh (that's about $0.09) So the changers sit on massive piles of bills, like some sort of Duck Tales opening credits. Exchanging becomes so ridiculous that people LITERALLY take their money away in wheelbarrows!!!

There are a surprising number of excellent value for money hotels in

town, namely the Oriental Hotel. Plus there are a couple of adequate eateries around the centre. It can be a bit of an issue if you plan to leave town. Technically, all foreigners must have an armed guard outside Hargeisa as they take foreigner safety rather seriously. This can be expensive. However, if you visit the Police Headquarters (not the central police) 2km outside the centre, the commissionaire may grant you a travel permit, free of charge, avoiding the whole guard nonsense.

Hargeisa will never become a major tourist destination. But it is important to realize that there is a possibility for tourism. It is true that everything could change tomorrow. So be sure to check before coming to the region. But I was asked many times by the locals to tell you something, so here it is, “Here is peace and security. Come to Somaliland.”

Overlandin' to Somalia

That's right. It's not a type-o. You read correctly. Somalia (although maybe i should say Somaliland)! This is not an analogy of some hypothetical Herculean task, it is merely an account of one traveller's (namely me) journey from Harar, Ethiopia to Hargiesa, Somaliland via public transport. Oh sure... you coooouuuld fly it, but where's the fun in that?

It's an early start. I turn on the lights which seems to rudely interrupt a social gathering of kitten-sized cockroaches who then looked at me in disgust before scurrying away (actually size of cockroach may have been embellished for dramatic effect). Apparently i wasn't invited to their party even though they were using my budget hotel room as their club house. There's no water, as is a common occurrence in Harar, so i have a quick water bottle shower and pop in some chewing gum. After all, who am i trying to impress? It's a sunny morning, as is often the case in this part of the world with the current global axial tilt. I find a place for some eggs and coffee before heading to the dirt lot referred to as a “bus station”. Bus and taxi touts shout the names of any number of cities, most of which i had never heard of. But eventually, i found transport heading in my direction.There is no direct transport from Harar to Hargeisa, Somaliland. Instead, there's a hop-scotch multi-leg approach to even get to the border. First stop is the rag-tag town of Jijiga. These are largely unchartered waters. While Harar is a secondary tier destination on the tourist trail, Jijiga is so far off the radar, it might as well be Mars. Mini-buses and taxis leave whenever full, so i paid my 40 Birr ($2.30) and crammed into the 15 person mini-bus with 25 other people.

The drive, for the most part, is pretty enough. Although i'd hardly use the

words stunning or superb (like the over-zealous LP writer). The roads are good, but may not be for the faint of belly. The driver bobs and weaves his way along the winding road, dodging (or at times aiming for) a myriad of camels, donkeys and villagers who are under the impression the road is merely a convenient pedestrian thoroughfare. Although if the incessant honking of the driver is any indication, he disagrees. Possibly the prettiest part of the drive is of 14 km stretch of canyon. As the car passes through the Dakhata Valley (or Valley of Marvels) gentle stone giants overlook your passage. Eventually,

after about 2 hours (assuming there are no punctures, break-downs or camelcides), you arrive into the town of Jijiga. The bus station is a crazy one. The sights, sounds and smell overwhelm you as you step out of the bus. It doesn't take long to find transport to my next destination, Wajaale, the tiny village straddling the border between Ethiopia and Somaliland. Few foreigners make it this way, so a big white man is certainly the novelty, never mind a goatee-sporting, pony-tail-sproating, earring-wearing oddity which is me. But the curiosity is innocent, although mildly annoying as once the bus has filled, it takes a while to disperse the crowd of onlookers who, lacking any real entertainment, are forced to gawk at the back-pack toting freakshow.

It's about another 2 hours to the border. As you reach the bus station-type-area in Wajaale, there is a bit of a sense of “OK... now what?” But fear not, the border is about 500 along the main road. If you want, kids with wheelbarrows

will facilitate your crossing for 10 Birr ($0.57), so i dismiss any personal objections to child labour laws, and pick out the least scrawny looking one. Just before crossing the roped off road (super high tech security in these parts) Ethiopian immigration is a small white building on the left. The officer does his best to look like he's done this before, snapping photos and taking fingerprints. Once done, Ethiopian customs may ask to see in you bag. It's 100m or so along no-man's land until a similar procedure in Somaliland. Duck under the even less high-tech rope and head for the brightly painted building on the right. Once done, prepare for a fight with drivers, in the car-park behind immigration, who are likely the only dishonest people in the country. 1 place for the ride in a shared taxi to Hargeisa should not cost more than 120 Birr ($7). They'll tell you you are too fat and need 2 places or your bag is too big and needs to be paid for to offset the delicate arrow-dynamics of his 197? “shitmobile”. Stand your ground.

Somaliland is hardly the most developed county on Earth, a fact made immediately apparent by the roads (or lack there of). The bucket of bolts called a taxi does it's best to negotiate the mildly-worn dirt path through the desert in a general direction of Hargeisa, the Somaliland capital. Eventually, the desert is bisected by one of the only sealed roads in the country. It's smoother sailing from there. The driver stops at what is likely his cousin's mini-restaurant for a quick bite, before continuing onwards. A couple security checks may along the way were shocked at the white dude wedged into his half-a-seat space. They demand my passport and turn to some random page pretending to know what they are doing or looking for. But if staring at my Turkish visa, upside down, for 2 minutes might show, the guard likely can't even read. Other than that the checks are quick enough, unless you opt for the additional strip search at a bargain price.

Soon enough Hargeisa is in sight, although it's not much of a site. The driver didn't drop me off anywhere of note, nor had any intention of bringing me anywhere i wanted to go (without more money). Luckily, Hargeisa only really has 1 street (Independence Road) so you are never too far from anything of importance. While the driver told me my hotel was 10km away, a local dude was nice enough to show me the way, which in reality was only a couple hundred metres away. It was a long day. As i took a much needed shower, the accumulated dust of the day washed away. I was refreshed and ready for the next challenge, dinner.

Harassed in Harar

They say, "You never get a second chance to make a first impression". But i do my best to give a place the benefit of the doubt. If a first inkling of a place leaves something to be desired, there is something to be said about allowing a place another opportunity to 'wow'. But what if they screw up chance #2. And then chance #3, #4, #5 to #infinity are squandered, perhaps it's time to give up. Such was the case on my visit to Harar in eastern Ethiopia. From the second i arrived to the moment i left, it was nothing but hassle.It all looked good on paper. Harar is a UNESCO listed old city, walled in between the 13th and 16th centuries by the Muslim population to protect (the self proclaimed) 4th holiest city in Islam (actually only holy to Sufis). With over 80 mosques, the city is said to have a uniquely Muslim feel. Although Ethiopia is 65% Christian (various denominations) and 33% Muslim, you never really get a feel for the separation. Added to this, the city is famous for its hyena men (who are not hyena/man hybrids, but men who feed the hyenas). To top it off, although well known in tourist circles, is only a third tier destination after the tribal south and historical north. This means you get an historical city with a unique religious feel with hardly any tourists but plenty of hyena. Sounded right up my alley. That was until i got out of the public mini-bus.

The second i stepped out of the mini-bus, one guy wanted a tip for opening the door (note he only asked me, not the local passengers). Then another guy wanted a tip for getting my bag off the roof. Another guy wanted a tip for catching the bag from the guy on the roof and handing it to me. Then another guy wanted a tip to show me to a hotel when i already knew where it was. Then another guy wanted.... Ahhhhhhh!!! I fought them off and headed to the hotel. After checking out the simple, but cheap (with no water), room i headed back down to reception to pay. In the 2 minutes it took me to look at the room, there was already another "tour guide" willing to offer me his services to walk around the city or show me the hyenas. "Only 200 Birr"! Are you freaking kidding me? That means you earn more than i do!!! I decline as politely as i can while on my last nerve, and head off to explore the old city.

Once actually in the old town, it's kind of nice. The mostly pedestrian alleyways bend and hook in seemingly random directions. It's almost guaranteed that you'll get lost. But it's a walled city, how lost can you get? Kids greet you with "Hellos" but then it's quickly followed by "Money?". I had thought that the concept of responsible tourism had finally sunk in. But there still seem to be morons out there promoting the practice of idiocracy by showering children with pocket money. It does nothing more than encourage a culture of begging and create a reason for truancy for school. There were even pebbles thrown at me when i refused to pay (luckily their aim sucks). Then, once you emerge into a main square, the "tour guides" smell the blood of an unaccompanied foreigner, and circle the wagons. "Hyenas..." "Rimbaud's House..." Perhaps if i had just hired someone for the get-go, i could have avoided the endless hassle.

The one saving grace of the place are the magnificently beautiful women. The promised differences between Muslims and Christians was not immediately apparent as nobody opted for the "I am (insert religion here)" forehead tattoos. But it didn't matter. The wonderfully colourful clothes seemed to sparkle as the women went about the market, bargaining and haggling for dinner supplies. While they are VERY anti-camera, i was lucky my hotel had a balcony overlooking the Christian Market.

Harar was my first Ethiopian town outside Addis. And although i had planned to spend a couple days there, i was left with such an immediate negative impression, that i was ready to leave the next morning for the peace and serenity of Somaliland. Luckily, the rest of Ethiopia was not at all like this. All the beauty and mystery of Harar was lost in the uncomfortable feel of the place. Harar was, without question, my least favourite place in the Ethiopia by a long shot.