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My job as a photographer for a well-known news magazine took me all around the world. I'd been on assignment on every continent but Antarctica. I'd sailed the Seven Seas. Sometimes these assignments lasted a week, other times a few months.

I met the current woman I live with when there was a major political upheaval in Ethiopia which had implications for all of Africa. "Jake, you might be there six months. We'll find you the best accommodations possible," my editor told me.

The best accommodations weren't great, but not bad. In a small village on the outskirts of Addis Ababa, the capital, I had my own two room cabin in a secure compound. Two writers from the magazine, Sherm and Denise, had their own cabins. There was a common dining room/kitchen and common bathrooms and showers: one for the men and one for women.

The languages of Ethiopia include Oromo and Somali. The writers had a translator, Haile, who spoke both languages and was also fluent in Italian. I had my own translator, Amara, a tall, handsome woman who carried herself like a queen. She spoke proper British English and seven Ethiopian languages.

Each of the translators had their own accommodations. Speaking of translation: something was lost in translation. Our second night in this compound, Amara brought Sherm and I young women for our pleasure. And Haile brought Denise the most handsome man you'd ever see for her pleasure.

We had to explain that we had no interest. Denise was amused; that had never happened to her before. "Damn, Jake, he was gorgeous."

"He might have shown you a good time," Sherm suggested.

That's when Amara, my translator, spoke up. "The girls we sent to Jake and Sherm thank you, Denise. They told me that he was marvelous. He had no problem satisfying both of them."

We'd all become used to different customs and cultural norms but this was a new one. Sherm and I had experienced this before, but Denise, an experienced reporter-never.

Because Amara spoke so many languages, I was free to travel just about anywhere in the country. She was not only my translator but my driver as well. Often, we were far from our compound at night.

Amara found us accommodations, often spartan, but not the worst I'd ever experienced. It happened just three months after my arrival in country. We were in the desert in the northeast part of the country; far from any town or village.

"Not to worry." Amara pulled a tent from the back of our Range Rover. It took her less than a half hour to have it set up; a fire going and warm food just about ready. "Jake, dinner isn't much, but among our rations was a bottle of Italian wine."

We shared the wine and a blanket by the campfire.

Later, I sat by the fire while Amara went into the tent to prepare for bed. Once she was in her sleeping bag, I joined her.

In the tent I found two sleeping bags. "Jake, I found two double sleeping bags; they'll do and even blow-up mattresses. We'll be as comfortable as possible." It would do, and as I said, I'd endured much worse.

It was awkward, but I managed to get undressed inside my sleeping bag. The fire gave off enough light and warmth; or so I thought.

I wasn't in my sleeping bag ten minutes when I saw the shadow of Amara moving. "Jake's it's much too cold; let me join you." She crawled into my sleeping bag. It only took a moment to realize that she was naked.

I, on the other hand, wore a sweatshirt and an old pair of cut off sweatpants that had traveled the world with me. "Keep me warm, Jake." She snuggled against me.

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