Last night we reported to Quarantine and Customs offices as requested by "Port Control" upon our arrival. We were issued gate passes to leave the port area for a few hours. The process seemed simple and straight forward. Tomorrow ...we report to Immigration, they open at 7am.

Massawa is a city in ruins. The country is at peace now after 30 years of devastating war. Most of the buildings have irreparable damage. Some have been completely devastated by bombing. The city is literally falling down....turning to dust. We found ourselves at a little cafe drinking coffee and tea. The owner, Mike, changed our money to local currency. (back room, black market) .


This morning we reported to Immigration to turn in our gate passes for visas. We want to travel to the capital city of Asmara. We paid our $80 fee. So we're free to roam the country right?? Wrong.. You have to get a permit to travel within the country. Okay, we say, where to we do that? Oh, you need to take a taxi for that. What we weren't told is that we needed a taxi and a full day of dealing with a very cumbersome bureaucracy Along with 7 other sailors we piled into the old struggling van/taxi. We arrived at the building only to find that it was the wrong building. After groping around the city we finally found the "Tourist department". It took two guys an hour to fill our forms out. They handed them back to us with a big smile.. Okay! We're free!.... No, no....You must go the the Finance department and pay the permit fee before you can have your permit stamped with the special stamp that makes you "FREE". So down the hall we go. We pay our $15 "Freedom" fee and one guy takes over 45 minutes to make our receipts in triplicate with carbon paper. We take our receipts back to the guy for the "freedom stamp". We're FREE!.......Oh no.... We don't actually have the STAMP here. You must go to another place for that. Back in the old smoking van/taxi and across town we go. We pile out and head to the door.... Guess what? There is nobody there! We hang around for a while.....Nobody shows up....Our driver walks down the street and disappears into a building... He returns with the news.... The stamp man has gone home..What now? Back in our now overheating van/taxi and down the road we go.....We park in the shade of a tree and wait in front of his house..... We wait....and wait....it's hot.... We're sitting on the curb like a bunch of lost soles. Finally a man comes out and jumps in the poor old taxi/van with us and off we go.... We arrive at the original building that we went to at the start of our search for freedom.... He takes our forms and disappears into the crumbling structure.... We wait...and wait...it's hot... we're again sitting on the curb... waiting.....Finally the man comes out smiling carrying our forms .... with the "Freedom stamps affixed"........Finally we're free...right?? Maybe.... We'll see when we head to Asmara the day after tomorrow in our poor old smoking van/taxi.... It's just a couple of hours over the mountains ..........