Day 2 - "Do I eat it, or make elbow patches out of it?"

After breakfast, we grabbed a taxi and headed down to the Mercato, Africa's largest market. Our taxi driver acted as a guide, but the sheer insanity of the crowds, plus the fact that we blended in about as well as Colonel Sanders at a vegetarian convention, meant he lost his nerve after about 15 minutes. To be honest, I was quite relaxed - if you're a pickpocket, who are you going to target? Some random fat, bald guy or David Beckham? Still, discretion, and respect for our guide's blood pressure, demanded we left for calmer surroundings.

We ended up at what I would describe as the souvenir district. In Addis, all the competing shops seem to gather in exactly the same place, selling exactly the same things. And every shop keeper wants you to come in for a look around. This is fine for souvenir shops, but a bit disconcerting when we came across a row of coffin shops. I know I'm not the healthiest-looking individual, but they did seem to be targeting me rather than the rest of the team.

Wherever you go, you are assailed but street kids. "You! You!" is the standard opening greeting, usually followed by "I am hungry, give me money". This is a ridiculously friendly city though - wander round with a camera and people wave, or step into shot intentionally with a toothy grin. Wind your car window down and the driver of the bus next you is likely to try and strike up a conversation.

Lunch was a relaxed affair at the wonderful Habesha restaurant where we dined on a variety of spiced lamb and meat dishes served with injera. Injera is pretty much the staple food in Ethiopia, an huge, slightly sour, cold pancake with the texture and consistency of an Odour Eater. It's definitely an acquired taste. However, it's very nutritious and rich in iron, although the rise in food prices has meant that the principal grain used in its manufacture, teff, has risen in price and out of the price range of many families.

I now know danger. I know what it is to live on the edge. For I have sat in the front seat of an Ethiopian taxi. With a broken seat belt. At night. Earlier today I passed a driving school - presumably it's a pretty short course, as driving skills here consist of pointing the car in vaguely the right direction, accelerating and hitting the horn. The horn is the most vital component in any Ethiopian vehicle, acting as a substitute for indicators, brakes, mirrors, in fact pretty much everything except the go pedal. Traffic rules are easy. Everyone has right of way - cars, buses, people, goats, stray dogs. Green Cross Man wouldn't last five minutes.