Soon after our return to Addis Ababa and our subsequent decision to return to the US, I dug around for my passport so we could head to the airline offices. Not in that pocket, nor in that pouch, nor in that bag. Hmmm...
The passport, it turned out, was in a hotel room back in Kombolcha, a long day's drive northeast of Addis. The hotel promised to hand it off to a driver who was heading this way, and told me to sit tight.
So I sat. I sat for a whole day in the lobby of our hostel on Mundy Street.
The wait - in a country with such abysmal internet connections - finally provided
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