Harar: Ethiopia's medieval masterpiece

If you're lucky, every now and then when you're on the road you'll come to a place where a little voice will say, "Stop here. This is what you were looking for." You'll have other plans, a nice neat schedule you made up in your head of what you wanted to see in the time you have for your trip. If you stop, if you listen to the little voice, you'll miss a lot of things you had planned to see.

Do it.

For me that place was Harar, a walled medieval city I visited halfway through my two-month trip around the Horn of Africa. My wife had flown home, having thoroughly enjoyed the lifetime of memories I gave her as a tenth anniversary present. Now I was free to go anywhere I liked without consulting anyone else. Or I was free to go nowhere.

Harar is reached on a ten-hour bus ride from Addis Ababa. That's not as bad as it sounds. The road is paved and the two main bus companies, Salaam Bus and Sky Bus, offer modern, comfortable transport. The scenery gradually changes from the hilly green of the Amhara and Oromo provinces to the rockier, drier region around Harar. The city is at a lower elevation than Addis or most of the north and I could feel the change in temperature.

Nobody knows how old Harar is. Hararis say it was founded in the early part of the Muslim era, perhaps in the 7th century AD, but given its location on the border between the core of the Ethiopian empire in the western and northern highlands, and the Somali lowlands and the sea to the south and east, it was probably a trading center long before that. Harar has always been a place where different cultures meet.

The first thing I noticed about Harar is how small it is. It's more of a town than a city, with a bit of sprawl in the surrounding hills. The area encompassed by the 16th century walls can be walked across in fifteen minutes, and walked around in little more than an hour. It's slightly less than 120 acres. Yet within these walls there's an entire history and a unique culture rich in symbolism. For example the Jegol, as the old city is called, has five gates, corresponding to the five pillars of Islam. There used to be 99 mosques in the Jegol to correspond to the 99 names of Allah. The list of symbols both in the geography of the city and in the shape and layout of the buildings could and does fill volumes.Walled cities have an atmosphere all their own. Damascus, Jerusalem, Istanbul, Segovia. . .they all feel like they're worlds unto themselves. The wall is more than just a physical barrier. In the days when city gates were closed at night the walls provided a very real social and psychological barrier. The people who grew up inside the city will be subtly different than those who lived only a few miles away. In the case of Harar the difference isn't so subtle. Hararis have their own language spoken only within the walls of the Jegol.

My education in the ways of Harar started on the first day. I hadn't been inside the Jegol for more than an hour before I was invited to join a meeting of the Harar Revitalization group, which is rebuilding dilapidated old buildings and wants to restore three of the five city gates that the Emperor Haile Selassie knocked down in order to allow access to cars. We sat on a carpet on the floor in the back room of one of the museums as a local poet and songwriter coached a group of young people who were recording a CD of songs about their city.

I soon found that the shopkeepers and office workers sitting around me were some of Harar's intelligentsia--writers and historians and lexicographers. I'd tapped into a rich vein of scholars who cared about their city so deeply that they spent their spare hours learning its secrets and preserving it for future generations. As a former archaeologist turned writer, I couldn't ask for better company. Over the following days and weeks I found many doors open for me, and over endless rounds of rich Harari coffee I met people who shared vast amounts of knowledge, and were curious to learn what I knew.

I soon settled into a rhythm. Every morning I'd sit at my favorite cafe on the main square sipping an excellent macchiato and watching the world go by. A Somali friend would often join me, and sometimes some of the Harari researchers. After some leisurely conversation it was time for a stroll around town, followed a conversation in some shaded alley or courtyard. Afternoons were spent in one of three homes, drinking coffee and talking about everything from linguistics to travel to history. Then as the sun set it came time to walk the darkened streets of the Jegol under the light of the moon.

It wasn't long before I became a familiar face. The touts in the main square stopped trying to get me to go on tours and people always knew where to find me. Once I was headed down one of the main streets to find Amir, the assistant curator of a local museum. As I passed down the street someone I didn't know said, "Amir is in the cafe." He didn't tell me which cafe, but I figured it was the one people usually saw me at. Sure enough, there sat Amir. Now this fellow couldn't have known I was looking for Amir, hell, Amir didn't know I was looking for Amir, but Harar is that sort of place.

So when you get to Harar, slow down. Skip the sights for a while and sit in the shade with a good companion. Or don't. Perhaps you need to stop somewhere else.

Don't forget to read the rest of my series on travel in Ethiopia.

A rooftop bar in New York without the pricey pretension

In New York, a rooftop lounge is one of the more coveted pieces of real estate. Combined with incomparable city views, the price of a cocktail in many rooftop bars can actually be less than admission to the Empire State Building or Top of the Rock. Unfortunately, most of the city's rooftop bars require VIP connections or are uncomfortably jam-packed.

One alternative to the madness is mad46, the Roosevelt Hotel's rooftop bar, which is kicking off its third summer season with a newly renovated interior space that opens right onto the terrace. Best of all, there's no cover or minimum charge -- a refreshing change when compared to other pricey skyscraper lounges in the neighborhood. If space is available, reservations are accepted for groups of any size, and there's no requirement to order bottle service. All of this helps to make the 19th-floor lounge an unexpected (and overlooked) treat amid all the office buildings in midtown Manhattan.

Cocktails range from $12 to $16, but look out for fun promotions, such as "When it rains, we pour" -- a clever name for when mad46 bartenders hand out half-priced drink specials as long as the rain lasts. This could be a real money-saver in the summer, when thunderstorms can be brief but thoroughly drenching. Plus, the rooftop bar has retractable awnings and a cozy interior lounge, so you won't have to cancel your plans if the forecast calls for some sprinkles.

Check www.mad46.com for other promotions, which may include Martini Mondays (possibly with manicures), Tequila Tuesdays, and sunset movie nights on Wednesdays.

Details: mad46 is on the 19th floor of the Roosevelt Hotel; enter on W. 46th Street at Madison Avenue. The rooftop bar is open in April from 5 p.m.-10 p.m. Wednesdays to Fridays; the full summer season begins in May with hours extended until midnight on Mondays to Fridays and until 2 a.m. on Saturdays. Hotel guests generally will receive priority if there's a line, though reservations are the best way to nab a spot. Right now, www.theroosevelthotel.com is showing packages starting at $169 per night.

Boozing it up in Ethiopia

My first impression of Ethiopia was that the Ethiopians are a lot like us, and by us I mean Mediterranean Europeans. One of the ways they're similar to us is they like to have a drink every now and then, but don't make a habit of drinking to excess.

For the cross-cultural drinker, Ethiopia has a lot to offer.

The best and most unique drink is tej, a honey wine like European mead. As any mead drinker knows, the taste can be very different depending on the region, because bees collect pollen from very different flowers. Mead made in Germany tastes different than that made in England. Since the plants in Ethiopia are so unlike those in Europe or North America, even experienced mead drinkers trying tej for the first time will be tasting something quite new to them.

And it tastes wonderful--sweet, but not overly so, and wonderfully smooth. The best place to sample tej is at a tejbet, a bar that specializes in the drink. It generally comes in strengths of mild, medium, and strong. Mild has very little alcohol and is essentially honey water. Strong is very strong, and while it does the job I found the taste of the alcohol interfered with the pleasant taste of the honey. Medium is the way to go for a good balance between flavor and effect.

Tej is usually served in bottles like the one pictured here and should be held the way our excellent driver/translator/fixer, Sntayehu Mekonen, is demonstrating. For the record he drank very little, because he was driving! It's best to flick a bit out on the floor to get rid of the congealed honey on top. Then pour into a glass and enjoy.

Another unusual Ethiopian drink is tella, a beer made from various cereal grains. If you want to visit a tellabet and sample some, you won't have far to look. Every village has at least one, and the highways are lined with them. They are almost always in regular homes and the only sign that it isn't just another house is a plastic bag or cup put upside down on a stick out front. Guests sit in the living room, gossip about local events, and watch the family television. The tella I tried was made from barley and was fairly weak. Imagine Scottish barley water and you have a fair approximation. While I was not impressed by the drink, I did get to watch Sntayehu try to placate the local crazy man, who insisted he knew Sntayehu's father in between ordering drinks and pouring them on the floor! Sntayehu was as polite as ever, but for some reason didn't want to stay for another round.Ethiopia also makes arak, a local brand of fire water I didn't try. Every country has its variation--ouzo, raki, orujo, etc.--and I can't stand any of them. They're good for cleaning the teeth, but bad for the internal organs. You'll just have to try Ethiopian arak for yourself and report back to me.

Beer and wine drinkers aren't left out either. Ethiopian beer is mostly lager and there are many regional brands. St. George is the oldest and one of the best, but strangely it is now owned by a French firm. Why one country not known for beer owns a brewery in another country not known for beer is a bit of a mystery, but there it is. There's also a brand of stout made in a brewery in Harar. The wine comes in both red and white and tends to be very young and sweet. I suspect the large Armenian community that has lived in Ethiopia for many generations has something to do with this. The only other non-dessert wine I've tried that comes close to the sweetness of Ethiopian wine is from Armenia.

So if you like to drink, you can have some interesting times in Ethiopia. The tejbet often feature live traditional music, and going to a tellabet is a good way to see the inside of a village home. You'll get a friendly reception. When we left the tellabet, the whole family came out onto the street to wave goodbye!

Next time: Lalibela: Ethiopia's ancient jewel. (Yes, I know I said in my article on that I'd write up Lalibela next, but it's such a stunning, otherworldly place I'm having trouble finding the words)