Lalibela - Monolithic Wonders

Lalibela is what it all comes down to in Ethiopia. It is an otherworldly place that has held a certain mystique with me since first hearing about it a few years ago from a friend. With that said, it might not be surprising what makes Lalibela so special...more churches. But the churches here are living rock.

The churches of Lalibela are exceptional for several reasons. First, there is controversy regarding when and why they were built. Maybe built in the 12th and 13th centuries, maybe earlier; maybe built as churches, but maybe built as fortifications and memorials. But it may not be the why or when that is so intriguing. The most extraordinary feature of the churches is that they are carved out of stone; actually, more appropriately, carved out of the bedrock of the earth. They are monolithic in the strongest sense, and in fact, one of the churches is the largest monolithic church in the world. On top of that, they are not disused; they are active churches.

You of course know all this coming into Lalibela, but it doesn't prepare you for the engineering feat that happened here hundreds of years ago. It is mind blowing to stand on the edge of a deep depression peering at a massive church intricately chiseled out of the rock in the middle. You stand there and imagine the original lay of the land and realize that the soil was first removed from the hillside, then a thirty to fifty foot tall block isolated deep into the bedrock and then that block of rock transformed inside and out, to an extraordinary structure. No blocks, not framing, no parts and pieces - these churches are not even a single stone, they remain as much a part of the earth as any mountain or outcrop.

After Tigray, I was expecting the worst from Lalibela. It is expensive to see the churches; at $50, it is the most expensive site I have ever visited in the world. Even the price to see the Pyramids of Giza is petty compared to this. Ethiopia is obviously dedicated to fleecing foreigners to the best of their abilities. What I was expecting was non-stop hassling, voluntary guides, and more corrupt priests. But, to my surprise, besides overly friendly (aka annoying) boys in the streets that insist that you quiz them about the capitals of Europe, visiting the churches of Lalibela was stress-free. And this made the whole experience all that much better.

Though I don't think the hefty price to see the churches is justified, they are worth the visit. The dozen or so churches are mesmerizing in so many ways - the echoes of chanted prayers behind the resonating bass of drums, passing through drifting incense, wandering dark tunnels carved through the rock, rubbing shoulders with shrouded monks and nuns that look as worn as the churches, standing beneath the domes and pillars carved out of the earth - there is so much more to Lalibela than just gazing at the churches. Its the whole experience wandering within this living rock and the bombardment on the senses that makes it so special.

 Like so many other towns in Ethiopia, Lalibela is set in a stunning location. However, it is not the easiest place to get to: our 12-hour journey had several transfers, rickety buses, flat tires, through desert, through mountains, through rain, and over rivers.

 Lalibela town itself is agreeable enough. Certainly a tourist hot spot, likely the most happening in Ethiopia, but fun to wander with good restaurants, coffee, and tej, the local wine made from honey.

Even besides the churches, Lalibela is a very photogenic place.

 The churches are connected by canyons carved through the stone, sometimes in the open, sometimes through tunnels. There are a couple long tunnels that represent passing through hell. You are not allowed to use light so fumbling around a narrow passage by only feel for what seems like an eternity, is a little unnerving. I guess that's the point.

 After passing through dark tunnels, it takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust, but once they do, your jaw drops at the rock masterpieces before you.

 A priest and his rock.

 Some of the churches are freestanding while others are carved out of the cliff face. What amazes me most about these churches is the amount of rock that has been removed from the insides to create the elaborate complexes.

St. George church is the highlight of Lalibela. It is entirely freestanding within its massive excavated hole.

 Again, St. George. Don't be fooled by the picture; this church is probably close to 50 feet tall and is one solid piece carved entirely down into the bedrock.

 The churches are nearly as impressive on the inside as they are on the outside.

 Mark and I went out on a limb our last night in Lalibela and went to a local's home for a cooking class. I met Abebe in the street who informed me that he and his sister were trying to start a little business providing cooking lessons. It was a very informal setting in the family's small, dirty kitchen, but it turned out to be an incredible evening. Here, their younger sister roasts coffee beans.

 Learning to cook injera (the fermented flat bread that is a staple to Ethiopian food) from our delightful, and beautiful I might add, cooking teacher, Emamey.

So with that, I say good-bye to Africa once again. I know it will not leave my mind no matter what activity I am pursuing back home, but it brings me solace knowing that I will be back. Oshi wete nale, baadaye, ciao, bye for now.

Tigray - Precarious Churches

Tigray, Ethiopia's northernmost region is an arid one, with classic desert landscapes punctuated by large sandstone walls and spires and with its own distinct ethnic group and language. What it is best known for though is its ancient rock-hewn churches carved out of the sandstone and often in the most peculiar places.

As is becoming apparent across all of Ethiopia, the only way to see the sights is through a private tour. Ethiopia is cheap to travel in, but to do anything else, your pockets quickly become drained. Not wanting to miss out on these extraordinary churches, Mark and I joined forces with a couple other Americans and spent two days cruising bumpy desert roads in a Toyota van while attempting to visit some of these churches. I wish I could say it was an amazing experience; in fact it was a frustrating couple days of dealing with corrupt priests and a couple Americans that were more difficult to stomach than even the most corrupt of priests. With that said though, Tigray will be the highlight of my Ethiopian journey and if I find myself back in this country, I will make a bee-line for Tigray.

Our first day involved visits to a number of sites all of which demanded absurd amounts of money to enter, only because we were foreigners. But it wouldn't stop there. Everyone expects to get a piece of the pie; unofficial guides, kids, priests, monks, and if donkeys could talk, would probably expect some money for just standing around. They follow close on your heals, tripping you up, and incessantly spew information about the sites, no matter how firm you are that you don't want or need a guide. In the end, they demand money for their services. It is extremely frustrating and distracts from the whole experience. I have experienced this in other countries, but in Ethiopia, they take it to a whole other level. From this, I came to the conclusion that before an Ethiopian learns how to talk or walk, they learn to extend their arm, looking for a handout.

By the second day, my patience were wore thin with the entire situation; I told myself I was no longer going to support the corruptive behavior cursing these miraculous churches. Instead, as negotiations would take place, I would slip into the desert and wander dry river beds and paths winding around farm plots. If even for a few brief moments of solitude, it would bring me around. Interacting with the local farmers and watching children's face light up as I extended my arm in greeting was invigorating. Just those few brief moments I could sneak in, made it all worth it. I will never forget some of the small, dirty children's faces change from one of fear and apprehension as I approached to some of the biggest smiles you will ever see as they would grab my hand in greeting. Some would still be asking for money, but in most cases, a handshake would more than suffice.

Even though my brief experience in Tigray was not the finest, from what I actually saw, it is obvious that there is something special about Tigray. It really is too bad that the little bit of tourism that it sees has thoroughly corrupted and brought out the worst in the people who deal with the tourists. If the opportunity arises again in the future, this will not stop me from visiting again. Through it all, Tigray is still awesome.

 The churches of Tigray are built in the most unusual of places. The church on top of this butte supposedly had 150 monks living there and involved a climb up a leather rope to get there. Although the rest of the group decided to go up, I refused, not wanting to open my wallet any more to corrupt priests in addition to not wanting to trust them with my life on a rope. Turns out, if you pay their ridiculous price to go up, they will not let you down until you pay again.

 The museum of one church was nothing more than a small room where the resident monk picked through dusty artifacts.

A walk along a small ledge probably some 1,000 feet up brought us to this small door. Inside was a multi-room church carved out of the sandstone with paintings adorning the walls and domed ceiling.

Peeking one's head into holes in the rock face would randomly reveal human remains.

 I have traveled Africa at the peak of the mango season, but being here at the peak of the cactus fruit season was a new experience. The prickly, juicy, and delicious fruit were in very high supply and cheap.

 Classic desert landscapes exemplify Tigray. The spire in the background actually has a church on top and involves a serious climb to get to.

Can't say for sure why the churches are built in precarious places, but they sure do have extraordinary views.

Classic desert scenery in Tigray.

Axum - Holy History

After returning from the Simien Mountains, it was necessary for Mark and I to spend the night in Dabark. It is a cold, gloomy town with a lonely highway passing through. And how will I remember Debark? As being probably one of the scruffiest places I have ever laid my head. The hotel we chose looked decent on the outside, the lobby a bit worse, and the rooms disgusting. As I was being shown my room there was a shallow basin filled with human feces blocking the door which our host casually kicked aside. Luckily, I was tired enough from walking all day I slept surprisingly well and I don’t even think I picked up any fleas.

In the morning, we hopped a bus for the northern town of Axum. I was under the impression that Debark sat at the base of the Simien Mountains; not more than an hour outside of Debark the bus approached a harrowing drop that made the hair on my neck stand. From the side window was a shear drop that left me wondering where the heck the bus was going to go. Turns out, there is a narrow dirt/mud highway that, sorry to say, puts Going-to-the-Sun road to shame. Tight switchback after tight switchback, the bus wound its way down the front of the escarpment. Had the road been in proper shape, and the bus not falling apart, it might not have been as nerve-racking a descent. Mark and I were very grateful that the rains hadn’t come that day.

Switchback upon switchback, winding our way out of the Simien Mountains.

Typical Ethiopian bus; goats on top, chickens inside.

The Simien Mountains are just as impressive from below as they are from within.

The bus continued in this manner for hours as it traversed the steep and rugged foothills of the Simien Mountains; down one harrowing descent, across a river, drive straight up to a wall of rock, shift into low gear and navigate a narrow series of switchbacks. Repeat. Finally, the land began to mellow out and it appeared we were out of the mountains. In relatively quick time, we had left the lush highlands; scrubby acacia began replacing tall eucalyptus, temperatures warmed, and the earth became less fertile while taking on a red hue. Then out of nowhere came another harrowing drop. The bus made yet another descent, which by the bottom we were choking on dust, wiping sweat from our brows and watching camels plying the highway. It was a breathtaking change in scenery that left me feeling like I had just entered an entirely different country.

Axum, like so many other places we have visited in Ethiopia, is known for its ancient history. It is claimed that Axum was home to the Queen of Sheba, is where Moses carried the Ark of the Covenant to from Mt. Sinai and where it still resides to this day, and whose king was one of the three to visit Christ at his birth, taking frankincense as a gift. Great empires have reigned here and it is from near here that Ethiopian civilization was born. It’s a fascinating place with lots of sites to see. It only took a day (actually less) for me to get my fill of peering at carved stones, wandering stinky tombs, and staring at ancient script with no idea what it says. As usual, the best parts for me were the journey here and just being here, walking amongst the dirty streets and interacting with the local folk.

 Axum is dominated by giant obelisks, dating back to 1,700 years ago. It is believed that these mark important graves from the great Kingdom of Aksum.

The ancient Ezana Stone is inscribed in three ancient languages, Ge'ez, Greek, and Sabaean, and documents the conversion of King Ezana to Christianity in the 4th century AD.

Terraced fields of tef and maize, cactus, a few eucalyptus, and hilltop churches dominated the Axum outskirts.

 Axum has its share of intricately painted churches and monasteries.

Simien Mountains - Ethiopia's High Country

The Simien Mountains are touted as being the “Roof of Africa” but upon arriving here I was quick to give a little geography lesson. I have heard the same thing in Uganda, where the Rwenzoris are also touted as being the roof of Africa. The Rwenzoris, straddling the border between Uganda and D.R. Congo, are in fact taller and are technically the highest mountain range in Africa (not to be confused with Kilimanjaro and Mt. Kenya which are actually volcanoes). Nonetheless, the Simien mountains are tall and I will even admit that I was slightly short of breath hiking around at 11,000 feet.

From Gondar, Mark and I organized a 2-day hiking excursion into the mountains. Seeing as it is the height of the rainy season, getting into the mountains was a wet and muddy ordeal. The main road was “broken” in several places with trucks stuck up to their diffs in mud littering the road. Miraculously, our Toyota van somehow made it up high enough and dropped us off where one of the most stuck trucks I have ever seen blocked the road. I found it necessary to stand around with the locals, kick the mud, and give them my two cents (which didn’t go far seeing as no one understood English); seeing how a big frontend loader and thick cable couldn’t even budge it, I reckon that truck is there for a good long while.

Our little group consisted of a cook, a couple porters, a guide, a few other white tourists and local “scouts” whose Kalashnikov toting skills were not all that comforting. As we bumped down the road my eyes often turned to the barrel of the gun which liked to wander from being pointed at the roof the vehicle to the heads of the passengers. On the trail, our scout took the rear, Kalashnikov casually pointed at our backs. I might have rather taken my chances with the leopards, if that is indeed what they were protecting us from. But, it remains to be seen whether the long clip actually held any bullets.

Although we had to deal with some rain and walking blind through the fog, it was a stunning couple of days. The Simien Mountains rise quite abruptly and ruggedly from the valleys below. They plateau at around 10,000 feet and from there, make a gradual rise for miles to Ethiopia’s highest point at nearly 15,000 feet. With the rains, come green and once on the plateau, it was endless rolling hills of green. When the clouds would part, there were spectacular views off the rim with straight drops of up to 3,000 feet. Throw in some long drop waterfalls and pleasant locals, and hiking around in the Simien mountains is an experience I will soon not forget and hope to do again in the future.

 

The town of Debark at the base of the mountains is about as scrubby as a town could be.

 

Sticky mud and a very stuck truck.

 Gelada baboons, gelada monkeys, mountain monkeys...not really sure the proper name for these primates but they were in the hundreds and I think they are endemic to the Simiens.

 Looking down off the rim, the foothills of the Simien Mountains are an intricate maze of valleys, spires, and buttes.

Interesting huts to gaze upon and curious kids to wave at.

One of many cascading tributaries of the Nile.

 

Monkeys, mist, and mountains.

 

Rugged, green, and awe-inspiring.

Gondar - Africa's Camelot

The mini bus ride between Bahir Dar and Gondar is like taking a step back in time, or several steps rather. As the bus zoomed down the narrow highway, swerving in and out of horse drawn carriages, the fertile farmland unfolded as far as the eye could see, with primitive plows behind strained oxen traversing the fields. With no mechanized equipment or advanced irrigation systems in sight, it was astonishing how rich and high yielding the land appeared. Probably cared for and cultivated in this same manner for centuries, these fields along with the local people's way of life hasn't needed much outside influence. Further adding to this general sense of old, the bus passed by a couple peculiar villages hanging on to traditional ways; one where the male-female roles were reversed, men cooked and women toiled in the fields, and another consisting only of non-believers.

And then there is Gondar. Even the name itself has a certain mystique, reminiscent of something medieval. With a castled skyline, ancient buildings and churches, and cloaked men with long staffs, Gondar is just that, medieval. Gondar is so far beyond what I know as being African, but, this is what Africa used to be at its height. It's an intriguing glimpse into civilized "old", a sharp contrast to the tribal "old".

The town itself, though not necessarily anything to write home about, is agreeable with more auto-rickshaws than you can shake a stick at while holding onto an aura that in a way still feels ancient. Not really sure how this happens, but in Gondar, it does. The main attraction in Gondar is its UNESCO world heritage Royal Enclosure which houses numerous castles from where a number of emperors reigned as far back as the 17th century. In addition, there are numerous old churches dating back to who knows when. And of course, there is lots of good food, nice coffee, and mildly decent beer. So, from that, it should be obvious how we spent our couple of days in Gondar. Not a bad place.

These curious lads were along the road between Bahir Dar and Gondar; we kind of chatted about mangoes and the weather.

Mark and I hopped into this little shack along the road for some coffee and received the whole "buna" ceremony from a nice lady and her fun children. The buna ceremony consists of elaborately prepared coffee served from a clay pot with rich incense burning nearby.

The piazza of Gondar. Note the sign for Dashen Beer, the locally brewed beer which Gondarians are quite proud of...tastes like, well, any other African beer (aka Bud Light).

Misty morning in Gondar.

One of the handful of castles in the Royal Enclosure. Not sure the emperor who reigned from this one, but no one has probably heard of him anyways.

From inside or out, you can tell that the Debre Berhan Selassie church is ancient but the paintings adorning the inside still retain most of their former glory.

The near entire spread of the Royal Enclosure. It is an awesome place to get lost in for a couple hours and imagine that you are wandering around in ancient times.

Bahir Dar - Lake Life, Ethiopian Style

From Addis Ababa, Mark and I's plan was to hop a bus to Ethiopia's largest lake, Lake Tana. We made the assumption that Ethiopia was like any other Sub-Saharan country and catching a bus was as easy as showing up at the bus station, hopping a grimy bus, and proceed to uncomfortably bump along for several hours to the final destination. Little did we know that hopping buses in Ethiopia is not that straightforward. Our first day in Addis was spent trying to figure out how to take advantage of a bus system that apparently requires a prior reservation. Every bus we tried was already fully booked and the only option was to take a minibus in the night, which was not recommended. In the end, we took advantage of Ethiopia's surprisingly cheap flying option.

The airline booking office in Addis was nearly as crazy as most bus stations; long queues, mildly chaotic, yet strangely efficient. After booking a ticket, we were relieved to not have to worry about how to get to Bahir Dar; flying is not my typical modus operandi, but what the heck, it was cheap and apparently part of the Ethiopian experience. At the domestic airport terminal, again not too different than the bus station. Piles of goods waiting to get loaded and a similar hustle and bustle. Only thing that was missing were goats and chickens, which I was waiting to find strapped to the wings, but miraculously never made it. And in proper fashion, the plan didn't leave as scheduled.

Bahir Dar is the main town that sits on the southern end of Lake Tana, where the Blue Nile continues its journey across Africa. It is considerably less populated and polluted than Addis, which was no doubt a breath of fresh of air, literally. This was our first taste of Ethiopia outside of the capital and it left us both grinning at the incredible smells, sounds, and sights. In so many ways it is more reminiscent to me of India rather than Africa. Even though a relatively small town (maybe city) it has that sensory overloading, disorganization and hassle that I associate more with India. Particularly annoying and frustrating is the hustling and begging as well as that sense that as a foreigner, you are a target for being cheated in every way possible. It is something that I have learned to deal with over the years, but that doesn't mean my blood pressure stays at a calm level. We're not in Africa anymore.

It was no problem for us to kill a couple days in Bahir Dar. We arrived on market day, which for me is something to not be passed up. I love open markets and in fact some of my fondest travel memories come from wandering open markets. And the market in Bahir Dar did not disappoint. Along the narrow, muddy paths everything was piled high and in your face; clothes to pots, mangoes to coffee. I was in heaven.

The compulsory thing to do when in Bahir Dar is to jump on a boat and cruise the lake shore and islands visiting ancient monasteries. Boat trips are in high supply and likely lower in demand and with that comes the endless hounding and hustling. It's the type of hounding and hustling that drives me to complete refusal, just out of spite. In reality, I am not much of a sightseer, so eventually turning my back to it all doesn't leave me with any regrets. But, Mark and I's stubbornness finally drove the price down enough that we were willing open our wallets and cruise the calm waters of Lake Tana. It was fun, for no other reason than having something to do and to see some of the countryside; I found that I had less interest in the monasteries than I did watching the bow of the boat split through the brown water and observing the fisherman working their papyrus canoes. It really was a wonderful experience that provided some great insights into the Ethiopian people and their devout religious beliefs. I am getting the feeling that the further we get from Addis, the more I am going to love Ethiopia.

Bahir Dar's market was incredibly atmospheric. Navigating the muddy paths while dodging donkey carts was in a strange way, fun.

And there was no lack of interesting people and curious kids.

Obviously an important ingredient in Ethiopian food. Strolling through the chili section of the market left my eyes watering and throat burning.

Unroasted coffee was plentiful.

Lots of goods to survey, most of which I had no idea what they were.

Fisherman heading home after a morning of fishing in his traditional papyrus canoe. These traditional boats are unsinkable and are considered the oldest know type of boat.

The lake shore and islands of Lake Tana hold a dense tropical forest filled with all sorts of colorful birds.

An ancient monastery dating back to the 18th century.

This inside of the monasteries were filled with old colorful paintings, ceremonial items, and even new glossy posters.