Asmara: Where the Sun Hates You and You Still Buy More Coffee

well i guess i’m still here, crawling through asmara like a sunburned zombie. the heat likes me, okay? i just checked and it’s like a sauna out there 28 degrees and some kind of humidity that makes your phone sweat. my roommate, who’s very into vintage clothes, tried to wear a silk scarf today and she looked like a walking frying pan. real fashionable.

i stayed in this hostel that the owner says is haunted. or maybe that’s just how disillusioned consultants talk. anyway, legends say there’s a ghost who sells coffee at 3am. i didn’t stay up for that. my coffee snob friend did. he’s still awake. or maybe he’s just a creative person. anyway, i heard that from someone who’s clearly high. should i try it? probably not.





need coffee? i found this tiny café called coffee-shop-tripadvisor. the Yelp review says the barista once cried during a power outage. seems legit. also, someone told me the local market sells ‘killer spices’ but i’m not convinced till i see it myself. either way, i bought a bag of cinnamon sticks for $0.50. they looked suspicious.

i didn’t see many neighbors. everyone seems to disappear when the sun gets high. if you get bored, asmara is just itself. no ‘just a short drive away’ nonsense here. the nearest civilized place is probably this weird compound you walk past and ask yourself why you didn’t just go back to your country.

i stayed up talking to a local who claimed the city was founded by time travelers. he didn’t know when. lives in a van. definitely a digital nomad. or a con artist. either way, he told me to avoid the west side at night. i heard a rumor that something happened to a guy there with 927246 listed in his passport. maybe that’s me? nah, i’m just here for the coffee and the existential dread.

links: check out asmarahistorical for weird exhibits, and asmaracoop if you want to buy spices without looking like a tourist.

i’ll probably leave tomorrow. the sun is too hot, the coffee is too cheap, and i forgot to pay my roommate last week.

p.s. if you see my vintage jeans, return them. i don’t know how they got here.

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