It's foggy.

I think one of my friends spoke of the "Ethiopian Fog."  That feeling you have when you go back, especially after the second trip, the one in which you take custody of your child or children and come home.  Going to Ethiopia the first time, for us, was a quick visit.  We dipped our toe in the water, so to speak.  We mainly stayed at the guest house and fell into the rhythm of their days there.  The staff became so endeared to our hearts, more like friends, family.  We hardly went anywhere and certainly we were always accompanied by a driver or guard whenever we did venture out.

On the second trip, though, we were more seasoned travelers.  We were ready for more.  Traveling to our son's birth region, we saw so many things.  It was similar in so many ways to where we live now, actually.  It was almost completely agricultural and there were herds of livestock everywhere along the road.  And people.  People walking, people carrying firewood, carrying water, carrying anything and everything.

Cart pulled by the typically thin horse.  It was the rainy season, walking was tough everywhere.

Beautiful older gentleman walking through the muddy streets.

Not sure, but I think I remember that this was an Ethiopian Orthodox Church.

A van with khat piled up high on top.

Horse and cart again, but with driver with reins alongside this time.

It was market day in one place.  I felt so sorry for everyone in the pouring rain.  Don't ever doubt why they shut that country down as much as possible during rainy season.  It no joke rains.

Manny visiting a warrior gravesite.  The tour guide thought we lived in Ethiopia, probably because Manny was running and jumping in puddles, not what he expected to see, I suppose.

Family goat outside their tukul.  

Beautiful rooster bossing everything and everybody in the yard.

Small tukuls used to store grains.

I have not come out of the Ethiopian fog.  I don't know if I ever will.  I don't think I ever want to.  There's too much stuff in my house.  There's too much stuff everywhere I look.  I want less.  Less things. More thoughts, more language, more action, more feelings.

How about a gratuitously cute pic or two of my kids?

The gnome went with us to Top View Restaurant.  My eldest remains absurdly cute.  And I don't mean that guy in the background.  He and his brother tried to get us to adopt the two of them.  They're like 40 or something.  

Get used to New York business, kid.

I think he likes it!

Me and the little boy.  Yes, I'm sure I am exhausted in the pic.  Happily so.