On this journey, I’ve passed through a total of 16 countries, with one still to come. Of those, rather embarrassingly, I think 11 were completely new to me, and a few of the others I hadn’t visited other than as a young child. It’s been fascinating to see the differences between them. Well, not always fascinating. Sometimes frustrating.

The one that has surprised me the most has been the change as I have passed from Sudan to Ethiopia, and I’m very curious to find out any justification for why.

Before I go on, I’d just like to put in a quick disclaimer: I appreciate that they are both very large countries with very different groups of people and environments within the same nation; I have only experienced a very small part of them.

Geographically, the differences are massive and obvious, and I was thoroughly prepared for them. Sudan seems almost completely flat, with ridiculously hot temperatures, little rain and vast expanses of desert. Ethiopia, on the other hand, consists of pretty big mountains, much more manageable temperatures (I’m writing this in a jumper!), a pretty impressive rainy season and is covered in vegetation.

You would have thought, given those natural characteristics, that Sudan would have the larger problems. But, based on the facilities available and the attitudes of the people, the reality seems completely opposite.

I’ve said this before, but I’d like to reiterate it: I’m certainly not saying that all Ethiopians are horrible people. I’ve met some very friendly, good and honest ones along the way, and the majority cause me no problem at all. However, in Sudan, I’m not sure I met one who wasn’t friendly, good and honest.

Superficially, Ethiopia appears to have far more natural resources than Sudan. There is farming everywhere and the fields are covered in animals. In Sudan, however, as soon as you get more than 50 yards away from the Nile there is absolutely nothing, and livestock is few and far between. Yet the Sudanese appear to have enough food to share around quite happily, and not once did I receive a request for food. On the contrary, I was generally having to turn down their offers!

As for water, that seemed to be considered a natural resource that was right to be shared in Sudan, with clay water-pots abundant in every village. Never did I have to look far to fill up my water bottles, which was lucky given the oppressive heat. Somehow, in Ethiopia, despite it being the rainy season, finding water is proving a lot more challenging.

Last night, staying in Debre Markos (a fairly significant town), I paid a massive 60 Birr (about £4) for a room with en-suite bath and shower, looking forward to a relaxing wash. But, despite the fact that there was a massive thunderstorm going on at the time, with rain crashing into the windows, I was informed that there was no water and therefore my bathroom was useless. Admittedly, in Sudan I was mostly by the Nile, but surely it’s not that difficult to make use of the daily torrents of water that fall on this part of Ethiopia?

It could well be that I’m missing a major reason why the Sudanese seem much more comfortable than the Ethiopians. After all, the road from Wadi Halfa to Dongola is being built “for free” by the Chinese, and I’ve no doubt they wouldn’t do something like that for a country that can’t give them anything in return. But Ethiopia appears to have so much going for it: a temperate climate; fertile land; plenty of rain; and beautiful scenery for tourism.

It couldn’t really just be down to the attitudes of the people, could it?

(I’m actually genuinely interested in hearing any possible suggestions as to why the situations are so different. I’m certainly no expert, and it’s highly likely I’ve missed an incredibly obvious fact that has a huge bearing on it. So, if you could enlighten me, please do! And, by the way, my bike has now been named “Toto”, purely for the benefit of the pitiful title to this blog.)

(I also almost forgot to mention, I did the Blue Nile Gorge today. It’s basically a 10% incline that goes on for about 20km. As you can tell, I’m already doing my best to put the memories out of my mind - not exactly a pleasant experience.)

It’s got to the stage in this trip where I’m counting down every mile to the destination. I think it always happens when the end is just around the corner, but you’re not yet on the finishing straight. But why did that have to be Ethiopia?

My current issue with the country is not so much with the people - other than the occasional idiot, they seem to be improving - but with the terrain. Constant hills are pretty difficult to deal with after a while, especially when you realise that the crowds following you (I feel a bit like Forrest Gump at the moment) are not even having to run up the slope to keep up!

After yesterday’s fairly positive day, it all got a bit too much for me at one point, when I could be found slumped over my bike before getting off and pushing myself up a big hill. It’s actually probably less effort to cycle slowly than it is to walk, but a change is as good as a rest. Or so they say. I think I’d have preferred a rest.

Now, this wouldn’t be too much of a concern if today was the toughest day. It was long - nearly 90 miles - and certainly had its fair share of hills, but it’s nothing compared to what I have to face tomorrow. That’s when I’ll face the challenge I’ve been dreading ever since starting my research into this trip: the Blue Nile Gorge.

To me, the name is a little deceptive and almost sounds romantic. I’m assured it’s nothing of the sort. While it may be pretty, and probably quite a pleasant experience from the confines of a motorised vehicle, on a bicycle the situation changes completely. Following a fairly severe descent over dodgy roads, I’m going to have the pleasure of climbing something like 6,000 feet over a 20km distance. That’s a lot.

Bearing in mind that I wanted to give up and hide today, I’m not exactly looking forward to tomorrow!

The good news is that, by my reckoning, I’m less than 650 miles from Mwingi. Only I’m not. I’m also about 3,500 miles away from London, but I can assure you that, even without including the various boat trips and stuff that I’ve been forced to take, I’ve cycled a fair amount more than that. Even the fairly straight cycle to Addis Ababa, only 113 miles away, will require me to cover over 200 miles along the roads. I think the Romans had the right idea - build it straight.

So, the whole concept of distances “as the crow flies” is completely ridiculous and, frankly, a bit annoying. But even the crows don’t do it that way. I’m sure I read somewhere that they like to follow ring-roads and peculiar landmarks like that as they fly from place to place. However, if I were a crow, I’d go as straight and as short as possible. Why not?

After all, I don’t think the Blue Nile Gorge would bother them up there.

Passing through countries like Ethiopia, as you deal with the good and bad along the way, it’s easy to lose sight of one important fact: for the people I’m passing, this is their world; this is their life; this will probably always be their life; they don’t have the luxury of dreaming about an inevitable return to the “real” world.

Today’s experiences have appeased my views on Ethiopians. I don’t know whether it was me or them, but they generally seemed a lot more chilled out today, and I haven’t been hit by anything! There were a couple of whips cracked in my direction and a few stones fell a fair way short, but it’s been nothing like what I had to face a couple of days ago. Perhaps it’s a localised thing as, when I have a bad reaction, I always seem to get a couple in the same village.

Of course, there are still plenty of demands for money and the incessant questioning of “where you go?” (I’ve tried to correct their grammar, but they don’t seem that inclined to learn; in fact, they don’t even seem interested in the answer, repeating the question over and over again), but at times they’ve almost seemed apologetic about it. At one point I had stopped for a quick drink, and an adolescent came over and stood a few yards away from me. I took the option of saying hello and we exchanged names, before he quietly asked for money. After a polite refusal, he simply shrugged his shoulders and wandered back to sowing seeds in the field. I can cope with that.

But the worst are always the young children. The distance at which they spot you and then speed across the fields to catch you before running alongside you is simply staggering. It generally starts off friendly (other than the odd occasion where they’ve picked up a stick or stone and thrown it before I’ve even reached them), but quickly turns to aggression when they realise I’m passing by without giving them anything.

But these are children. Some of them look about five-years-old, or maybe even younger, but there they are, tending to their animals in the fields, stick in hand. I’m not going to suggest that they should be excused for their frankly appalling behaviour, but an equivalent child in England would barely be starting school, and would probably have another 15 years to go before having to work for a living. These children aren’t “working for a living”, they’re working to live.

Even when you get beyond the child labour issues, there are certain things that I completely take for granted normally that, over here, are more difficult to find. Toilets, for a start. I would not dare go into 99% of facilities in Ethiopia; they are absolutely disgusting. It’s actually making things quite awkward, as finding a suitable and private spot for a “wild number two” is proving a bit of a challenge. Luckily, my stomach is working properly for now (is that too much information? Never mind!).

And, as for electricity, that seems to come and go (with more going than coming) at will, if they even have it at all in the first place. Having cycled over 75 miles up and down countless hills today, the rainy season made its presence known in spectacular style with a hail storm, thankfully as I was entering a small town. So I’ve hidden myself away in a small hotel for the princely sum of 20 Birr – about £1.25. Normally, one of the advantages of hotel accommodation is the ability to clean myself and charge batteries. Well, in this establishment I think I’d come out dirtier than I went in and I’m writing this to candlelight, with the electricity nowhere to be seen and with no expectation to return in the foreseeable future.

So, as I fall asleep dreaming of all the things I’m missing from back home and looking forward to my return to the quiet comforts of the Western world, there’s one thing I’m going to keep on reminding myself of:

This is the real world too.