Early in the morning I wandered over to the hotel's balcony and snapped a few more pictures of this city I like so much. Then, it was downstairs and across the street to the "travel agent" – to see if some flight can get me out, to anywhere, today.

The guy was only offering flights on Air Djibouti for tomorrow, but he said that Daallo flies today. I guess the flight ban has been lifted. He directed me to the Daallo office, and I headed there. It was then that I noticed that the hotel manager was following me.

Either because I still had the key to his room, or because he didn't trust his neighbours and wanted to make sure I didn't get kidnapped – with his key still on me. Daallo wasn't far, and we wandered over together along the sandy road into the office. The flight to Addis Ababa was leaving at, oh, the exact time I walked into their office. So much for that. How about Djibouti?
"Yes, it leaves this afternoon," he said.
"Well, I need to buy a ticket."
They don't take visa. I pulled out my last USD100 bill and gave it to the guy – the flight was 82 US dollars. In fact, there is no credit whatsoever anywhere in Somaliland. Cash only. Carrying tonnes of cash around with you can be a daunting and risky thing to do, but there's little choice. Inshallah, if Allah allows, you will be fine.

I got my receipt and boarding card. You know you're flying on a third world airline when your boarding pass is handwritten on a piece of scrap paper, and stamped with a company seal. That's professionalism.

I went back to the hotel with the manager, but not before changing money. I want some of these monopoly souvenirs for back home. If I get home – there's still the detail of getting an employee fare ticket out of Air France. I paid the hotel manager for my room; he did that flipping thing again with his fingers. Then, I sat down for breakfast – camel meat mixed with fruit and vegetables. Don't try eating the meat without the fruits or vegetables. They are absolutely necessary to avoid gagging.

I arranged for a taxi ride to the airport – as usual, a complete ripoff at US$10, but as long as I'm leaving then I'm happy. It was during this city tour, to the airport, that I managed to arrange a list of things to see in Hargeysa:

-The bullet-riddled arches on the Hargeysa bridge.
-A wonderful selection of bombed houses.
-People eating spaghetti with their hands, devouring full plates faster than you can say "Mogadishu".
-Or, overload your luggage by changing money into 50-shilling bills.
-And of course: chat with the friendly locals.

I'll send those off to Lonely Planet so they can include them in their next guidebook. I'd also like to write an article for their backpackers who travel to places like Colombia and Yemen with the title: " 'Jinkies, are you guys killing each other? Well, do you have any cheap drugs?' – a guide for first-time warzone backpackers". I don't think they'd get it.

I had to pay USD$20 in departure taxes to leave the destitute airport. Another string is laid across the road to ensure the security for the airport, so you can rest assured that the flights are safe. No X-ray of any sort in sight. I got an exit stamp. On the other side of the runway, you can see the old control tower, as well as some old Russian fighter jets. I bet you that if they haven't been picked clean by nomads, which they probably have, they're in pretty good condition. There's also a new building going up beside the current terminal, which is a good sign. It's the only development I saw in the entire country.





We flew back to Djibouti on an LET-410 turbojet. Pathetic little thing; it felt like a speeding car trying to take off. But it did fly; and I was not the only white guy in the plane. The pilots are Russian; Russian planes, Russian pilots. I suppose it makes sense. There were also two Italians I believe, and one younger white British fellow. It wasn't too bad a flight – even refreshments were served, being coke or sprite. I saw Hargeysa from the air, as well as the endless desert below us. It took a good two hours to fly to Djibouti in that little plane. I breathed a sigh of relief – one step down. I was outside of Ethiopia, and Somaliland. Things should be easier here. The men at the Daallo office had said I could get a transit visa on arrival. Inshallah. I'm not sure what will happen if they're wrong.....

-May 2000



Conclusion - Djibouti

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* A full account of my visit to this country is available in my yet to be published book, Means To An Exit. If you are an agent or publisher and would like to receive an outline and manuscript, please Contact Me.