Erin — this stayed with me. Not because it was sensational, but because you resisted the urge to aestheticize what is clearly hard, layered, and unresolved.
What struck me most was how those sites weren’t framed as spectacle, but as evidence — of history that hasn’t been metabolized yet. The graveyard, the junkyard, the scrapyard aren’t “attractions” so much as receipts. They ask the visitor to sit with cause and consequence rather than look away or tidy it up into something more comfortable.
I also appreciated the way you held two truths at once: the visible damage and the dignity, ingenuity, and warmth of the people living within it. That tension feels honest. And necessary. Too often travel writing either romanticizes resilience or flattens places into tragedy. You did neither.
This is the kind of piece that reminds me travel isn’t always about delight or escape — sometimes it’s about witnessing, without rushing to resolve what can’t be resolved quickly.
This was fascinating to read. Not sure how I'd feel about taking this tour but I also like the idea of highlighting places of destruction rather than polished landmarks. It's a powerful way to show how history and politics shape a country, and it certainly stays with you.
Thank you, Ibtissam. Yes, I wasn't too excited at first, but the longer I was there, I came to appreciate the symbolism of waste and wanton destruction. The thousands upon thousands of empty morphine bottles especially stayed with me.
Erin — this stayed with me. Not because it was sensational, but because you resisted the urge to aestheticize what is clearly hard, layered, and unresolved.
What struck me most was how those sites weren’t framed as spectacle, but as evidence — of history that hasn’t been metabolized yet. The graveyard, the junkyard, the scrapyard aren’t “attractions” so much as receipts. They ask the visitor to sit with cause and consequence rather than look away or tidy it up into something more comfortable.
I also appreciated the way you held two truths at once: the visible damage and the dignity, ingenuity, and warmth of the people living within it. That tension feels honest. And necessary. Too often travel writing either romanticizes resilience or flattens places into tragedy. You did neither.
This is the kind of piece that reminds me travel isn’t always about delight or escape — sometimes it’s about witnessing, without rushing to resolve what can’t be resolved quickly.
— Kelly
Erin! Loved getting a glimpse of Eritrea. I so appreciate this type of stories about unpolished sites. Thank you ❤️
You are most welcome, Stina! ♥️ And thank you for your kind words. Eritrea is truly a fascinating place.
This was fascinating to read. Not sure how I'd feel about taking this tour but I also like the idea of highlighting places of destruction rather than polished landmarks. It's a powerful way to show how history and politics shape a country, and it certainly stays with you.
Thank you, Ibtissam. Yes, I wasn't too excited at first, but the longer I was there, I came to appreciate the symbolism of waste and wanton destruction. The thousands upon thousands of empty morphine bottles especially stayed with me.