I sighed in agreement, certain that if I hadn’t been personally connected, I’d probably be one of those who made all kinds of uninformed assumptions. “My parents were captivated with this place from the moment they arrived. They were only here for a year that first time. But they came back in ’94, after I was born. My dad was pretty set on me having an Ethiopian name, and Desta it was. He loved this place.”

Elias’s smile made a reappearance, and this one was radiant, like it pleased him to no end that my dad was infatuated with his country. “I like that story. Sounds like your father has a strong soul. He knows how special our country is, and not everyone can feel that.”

I gulped, almost sad I had to tell him. “He died, my dad. When I was in high school.”

His face grew serious, and when he turned to me, his eyes were so full of sympathy I felt like crying. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been very hard to lose your father so young.”

I looked out the window and exhaled loudly, once again bemused at the onslaught of mixed emotions I’d been hit with since I’d arrived. “Yeah, it was hard.” After all these years, whenever the death of my father came up, my usual answer was aimed more at trying to make the other person less uncomfortable. But here in the half-light of the Ethiopian dawn, for some reason, I felt like I could say the truth. “It still is hard, but we got through it. My mom loved living here too. She’s so excited I’m here.”

He exhaled at my words, and I was surprised to find I didn’t shrink at Elias’s reaction. It didn’t feel like pity—it felt like he was trying to hold space for me to feel what I needed to.

He gave me a few moments, and when he spoke, it was back to the business at hand. “Then we must not let you down. First stop today is to get the best coffee in town.”

I was grateful to him for changing the subject—it was like he could sense I didn’t have the energy for this much emotion right now.

I smiled, shaking my head. “Wow, that must be something. I’ve already had pretty amazing coffee, and I don’t think any of the places were particularly special.”

He nodded, listening as he drove through the busy streets. “We’ll go to Kaldi’s—they have breakfast and coffee there. All farenji love that place.” He straightened his back, like I’d just challenged him to blow me away with this cup of coffee. “I think it’s because the logo and colors are similar to Starbucks in the States.”

I laughed, now really eager to see this place. “Oh, really? Like they copied it or something?”