Update: Ending the Ethiopian Adventure

We are at the wonderful Ping Internet Services across the street from our hotel in Addis. We got in this morning on an uneventful flight and have the afternoon to take care of errands before flying off to Zanzibar tomorrow morning.

Hope everyone's well, we miss all y'all.

Feather Beds and Bird Trees

The bird tree and feather beds
Posted by Kate from Lake Tana Feb 27.

Robert Louis Stevenson said travel for him is, "to get off this feather bed of
civilization, and to find the globe granite under foot and strewn with cutting
flints." When I read that I thought, "Wow, that is so right, what a good thing
for someone else other than me to do." In case you can't tell, we are back in
the metaphorical feather bed. The plan (revised for not trekking) was to stay
at this resort on Laka Tana for a few days and then leave the resort, go to the
hotel we originally planned on using near Lake Tana and go back to being
independent tourists. Once again, however, communication issues got in our way.
We checked out of the resort and its super fancy room. We walked the 2 km to
the new hotel. That reservation we had made? There was a mistake. There was no
room. So, Andrew left me there, got in a tuktuk and came back to the resort to
see if there was still space for us. He came back, picked me up, and we are
back in la-la land. It is lovely. We have a standard room, which is much better
then the silly silly suite we had before, and we negotiated a discount for
staying for so long.

The bird tree

The resort sits on Lake Tana, the third largest lake in Africa. There is a patio that juts out over the walking path and butts up against the lake. Next
to this patio is the bird tree. Before coming to Ethiopia I was not interested
in birds. Old people, with big bellies and unfortunate traveling vests are into
birds, not me. The last few weeks have changed all of that. There are so many
birds here, and they are so striking, and so varied that I have become obsessed
with finding them. (Partly this is because I am sick of looking at churches,
and looking for birds gives me an excuse not to pay too much attention to the
churches) This morning, I noticed a tree with little green fruits hanging from
it. When I looked closely there were little green birds, that kind of looked
like the fruits all around the tree.

Every night from 6-7pm (or 0-1 Ethiopian time) the resort hosts a cocktail hour
on the patio. They have one kind of cocktail-- it is a fruit juice thing with
some white wine, I think, and some snacks. Our first night here, when the hotel
was full we meet interesting people at the cocktail hour. Now the resort is
empty and we do not share a common language with any of the guests. Instead we
spend cocktail hour watching the bird tree. The bird tree is a fig, or maybe a
ficus, depends on who you ask, in the spirit of the great trees in Ethiopia. It
is wide enough to shade many people from the sun, and tall enough to be easily
spotted from out in the lake.

Each night from 6:20-6:50 the bird tree fills with birds. It starts small. Last
night it was a white crane that came first, landing regally on a lower branch.
Then came a black bird that looked like a thin and sassy duck. Finally the
main show started. Bit by bit these mini ibis birds that we have named
"Ethiopian pointy birds" come to the tree for the night. It starts with a
group of 3 or 4, but eventually giant Vs of these birds come and land on the
many branches. They are awkward landers, sometimes circling several times on
approach before getting it just right. They come from all directions over the
lake and settle on the tree. At this time the sun is setting so you can just
see their silhouettes on the pink sky.

Last night something was bothering the Ethiopian Pointy Birds, so they all, maybe
150 birds in total, took off at once and circled several times. This is unusual.
The staff and owner of the resort were taken aback. The owner even came over
to ask us what happened. We are new at this bird behavior thing, so we have no
idea. After some kerfuffel they settled back down on their branches for the
evening. We stay watching the bird show every night until we are thoroughly
being eaten by mosquitoes, or until it is dark. Now we drag over chairs so we
can sit and watch comfortably (cocktail in hand, of course). It is far more
interesting than the BBC we can watch in our room (Qaddafi, schmaddafi, I want my birds!).

Some other guests sat out with their Birds of the Horn of Africa book and
binoculars the other night. That book, the Birds of the Horn of Africa, is far
thicker then the most recent San Francisco phone book.

Birds, birds and more birds

Today on the lake we saw pelicans so big that at first we thought they were
buoys in the water. Our boat driver drove up close to one, which made him fly
away. At first I felt bad, but then I realized the boat driver wanted us to see
what the bird looked like in the air. He was more doughy and soft then I
expected. The closest thing I can think of is that he looked like a flying
muppet. He was elegant in water, and slightly muppet-ish in take off.

At lunch we watched a bird that we named the "Ethiopian cookies and cream king
fisher" dive for his lunch. He would hover in the air staying in the same
place and then drop into the water. Then he would do it again. I just looked
over now and he is still at it.

Final Note: Last night, while watching the bird tree a large bird pooped on
Andrew's head. Good thing he is bald.

Addis + clank clank

Andrew is not here to proof read the next few posts, and I only have internet
for about 5 more minutes. So you get it errors and all.

A few notes:
1. Re Addis craziness: A few days ago I met a 24 year old white girl traveling
though Ethiopia with her extended family (her mom was born here, and now they
are all back to check it out, 11 family members in total and to use her mom's
words they are having a "whale" of a time. They are British, can you tell? I
have decided I am going to take the term "whale of a time" for my own.) I
noticed that her leg was crazy dirty. I couldn't figure out how she would ever
get the ground-in dirt off her calf. What had she been doing? Then I found
out. She was … wait for it…run over by a truck in Addis. As soon as she said,
"I was run over by a truck two weeks ago" I knew it was in Addis. I told her
that this story was not going to help me to be calm in Addis. She said, "oh no,
it was just a freak thing, I wasn't even on the street. I was just standing in
a parking lot." Oh, well then, that makes me feel better. Note: the truck
actually ran over her. She was very fortunate and other then bruises and some
seriously embedded dirt, she did not get really hurt. No broken leg. She told
me she was lucky. It is all about definitions isn't it?

2. We are staying in a nice hotel away from other things and therefore I
expected it to be quiet. I was a bit annoyed at 7ish this morning when a
workman started periodically clanking things outside our window. Please,
please, just let me sleep. Well, just now the mystery was solved. I was in the
bathroom when the clank clank started again. I looked out the window to see a
stunning bird pecking at the window over and over. Not sure what he thought he
was going to get, but he sure was working on it. Guess I can't complain to
hotel management.

Rock-Hewn Church in Lalibela

Posted Feb 27 from Lake Tana

This is a picture from a Rock-hewn Church in Lalibela. We didn't really write
about Lalibela, maybe we will one of these days.

Advice: click on the image to see it big.

Tigray Church Hike Pictures

These are a few pictures to give you an idea of the hight of the church in
Tigray we hiked to.

I am using the email to blog feature to put these up. Can you see them? If
they don't look at least a little scary then the email to blog feature is not
working right.
-Kate

on not going trekking

Hidden costs and big consequences

Every time we go out in Ethiopia to do something we discover there is a set of hidden costs. Most recently it was finding out we needed to get a “shoe minder” for our day in Lalibela. We probably could have said no, but our guide said that it was a good thing, and that this way our shoes would not go missing. What we didn’t know was that our shoe minder would follow us around and put our shoes on and take them off at each church. I haven’t had someone putting my shoes on me like that since I was in kindergarten. Each time, when he wasn’t looking, I would have to reach down and loosen them. Andrew had his big bulky hiking boots, and our shoe minder tied them for him over and over. I got pictures of it. Andrew seemed just a little embarrassed. I also noticed him loosening them when no one was looking. All in all, the shoe minder was a good experience, we had our shoes at the end of the day, which was really important, and the guy got paid. Not a big deal, except there are surprises like that around every corner. We have been doing a lot of tipping of Priests. This is so strange for me. But here priests are just farmers who have studied, and they are not paid by the church, so taking them away from their work to open up a church requires a tip. Also, we often need a scout to follow us around, and he needs to be paid. It isn’t a lot of money, but we are never expecting it. This is how we ended up in Axum with not enough money to make it to the next international ATM. Over and over again we needed more then we planned for and the next thing we knew we were in deep doo-doo. We discussed. We strategized, we discussed again. We cursed the city of Milan for refusing to sell us travelers checks. We berated ourselves for not getting PINs attached to our credit cards. (The ATM in Axum could maybe do a credit card, Visa, but not Andrew’s ATM card. My ATM card expired. Whoops. Not that it would have worked anyway) I did have one credit card with a PIN, but it was MasterCard (totally useless in Ethiopia incase you are wondering). I finally pulled it out and looked at the back. It did have a Plus logo, the bank in town had a Plus logo. There was hope!!

When our driver picked us up to take us to Gheralta, we asked him to do two things: 1. Drive us to the bank (about 1 km down the street) and 2. Pray for us. I ran out to the ATM with my card and Andrew close behind. The ATM is totally surrounded by children. I put in my PIN. I request the most money it will let me take out: 2000 birr (about $120). I have never done this before with this card. The machine makes noises. Andrew says “maybe it is working” Unkind superstitious things come out of my mouth informing him that he will ruin everything by saying stuff like that. And then, it happens; an enormous wad of money pops out. I yip. I hand it to Andrew, he puts it in his pants. The machine asks, “would you like another transaction?” I say yes yes yes. I do it again. And again. Each time the machine gives us a wad of cash about .75 inches thick. It is filled with 5s and 10s, and 50s. The kids standing around watching us are really staring now. Their eyes are bugging out of their head as I hand Andrew the final wad of cash. I decide I don’t want to “push my luck” so I stop taking out money. Andrew points out that no one is going to come running out of the bank and take the money back. I don’t care. We jump into the car and take deep deep breaths. I thank the driver for his prayers. He smiles. The rest of the day feels just a bit lighter. There is a glow. We have cash, we have cash, we have cash. For the record, I got that credit card because the guy at the bank was cute and he told me I should. I was maybe 22 when this happened. Thank god for 22 year old hormones.

It was a darn good thing we got that money because once again everything cost more then we thought it would. It was nice not needing to worry about it. And, it meant I got to drink beer, and that is always a good thing.

The plan

The plan was to visit the rock hewn churches of Lalibela (UNESCO site, again) and then the next day begin a 3 night, 4 day trek. The trek was organized though a nonprofit and in theory included real beds and composting toilets at each site. 20 days ago, when we first got to Ethiopia, we met with someone in the Addis office of the non profit to go over the details. She assured me that the walk was flat. There were some long days of walking, but it was flat. 20 days ago, this all seemed like a good idea. We would get to visit churches and schools. We would be part of a sustainable local tourism program. It would be great.

Three days ago, this plan no longer seemed like a good idea. Remember how I said this country is filled with hidden costs? Well those costs are not just financial. Each stop has been far harder and more demanding than we expected. For example, When we planned our trip to Gheralta, we did not account for climbing mountains during the day. (According to our guidebook it is a “stiff 50 min walk.” 50 minute walk, my ass. It was a 130 min climb. Using our hands in addition to our feet.) We thought it would be restorative. It was fun, but it was not restorative. We also thought it would be quiet, but there was an all night church service, so, well, not quiet. Northern Ethiopia is at a pretty high altitude. I thought I was prepared for that, but I wasn’t.

In Axum, we ran out of cash. A bit of good luck and we were able to replenish the stack. In Lalibela we ran out of energy and that is far harder to replenish.

The “Incident”

So here is the story: after our climb in Gheralta I was pretty beat. By the time we were in Lalibela looking at churches (again!) I was still at low energy. After the first set of Churches our guide took us on a “shortcut” to the trekking office so we could pay and make final arrangements. The walk was not long, and it was not very steep, but I had trouble keeping up with the boys. My breathing was labored. I started to really be worried about this trek. I decided that I would ask them what happens if I am unable to complete the trip. Based on their answer I would know what to do. If they said, “That is a common question, lots of people are worried about that. It really isn’t a big deal, we come and pick you up.” Then I would stop worrying. If, however, they looked at me and said some variation on, “you are young, you look fit, you will be fine.” then I would probably back out. I never expected the response I got. Andrew had just left the office to go get the necessary cash, so he wasn’t there to be my witness, which is really unfortunate. There were 3, maybe 4, staff members in the room and two white women who were also paying. I asked one guy, “what happens if I can’t complete it?” I looked at him, he started laughing. I looked around the room and all the staff members were laughing. The room erupted in laughter. I stood up and walked out. I told Andrew that I was out, no trek for me. He can go if he wanted, but I was out. I was pissed. I was embarrassed, but mostly I was pissed. I saw our guide, who had taken us to the office, walk out and look for me. We had already set a time to meet up in the afternoon. So I waved. He waved and then Andrew and I went to the hotel. We discussed our options. We discussed them again. Finally we made a decision about our next steps.

As much as I wanted to send Andrew in there to deal with my problems for me, I decided I needed to go in myself. Even if I only said a few words, I really didn’t want to send my husband in for my defense. (that song, “my boyfriend’s back and there’s gonna be trouble” kept going though my head.) I pulled myself together and we walked to the office. Only 2 staff members were there. I walked in, with the cash to pay for the trek in hand and went to the desk and spoke to a woman. I explained that we were making a donation for the cost of the trek, but after what just happened I was no longer comfortable giving them responsibility for my well being. Therefore, we would not be going. Panic ensued. She started calling lots of numbers. They tell me to take a seat. There are no chairs, and I didn’t want to take a seat anyway. One of the men came back. He explained it was jovial friendly laughter, I just misunderstood. I said, “No, it was mean.” He said, “you left.” I explained that yes, I left. I was humiliated. He said, oh we didn’t mean it to be humiliating. I tried to explain that I admitted weakness to him, and then they laughed at me, and yes that was humiliating. He said, “oh, but it is such a common question.” I asked what the answer was. He explained, you call and a car comes and picks you up. Sigh. Oh, if only he had said that first. At one point he asked where we were from. (This annoyed me slightly because I was waiting for the “it is because you are an American that this upset you”) He started talking about British people. Either he was arguing that if I was British I would have known that the laughter was jovial (I doubt that) or he was saying lots of British people have completed the trek and if British people can do it an American can do it. He started explaining that I misunderstood and Ethiopians are not the kind of people to laugh at you. I explained that yes, until this morning I was also under that impression. He said, “you have young feet. You will be fine.“ I of course do have “young” feet, this argument however, did not make me feel better. Then he said something very true, that I agreed with, “it would be a shame if you missed this experience because of what happened.” I decided we will go have lunch and discuss it.

We discussed it and we agreed on the following facts: 1. They didn’t mean to offend me. (Though they may have been very successful at it.) 2. They were trying to do the right thing, now. 3. We (not just me, but Andrew, too) were really tired.

With or without laughter, with or without a the possibility of a truck coming to save us, we were too tired to do this. During lunch we asked our hotel for help us get new airline tickets.

This time I did let me husband do my dirty work for me. Andrew went back to the office to explain that we were going to pay, but we were canceling. This time he talked to a different man, the man, of whom, I first asked the question. Interestingly, our guide was in the office hanging out. They are all friends. Andrew is really good at these moments. He was polite and respectful and clear. He told them he “really appreciated” the apologies, but all Andrew could do was stick to his end of the bargain and pay for the trip. Turns out the person he needed to pay was not there. Andrew would have to come back in an hour. Sigh. When he came back again there was more chaos. He had to talk to the boss in Addis via the phone and explain. He said that was awkward. In the end he told the truth. We realized that this trip was not appropriate for us. Maybe I should have known that 20 days ago.

While Andrew was canceling, I was sitting with our guide waiting. The guide, who was deeply sweet and had these big soft eyes, asked me why I was not going hiking. I told him. He said that the staff felt bad and wanted to apologize. I said, “I appreciate that.” He said, that is what your husband said. Then he explained that after I had left, the man I had been talking to told the white ladies they shouldn’t laugh, it was a common question. I told him I hadn’t seen the white ladies laughing, and that was a good thing because if I had I would have said something very rude, for more rude than what I wanted to say to the staff. He looked surprised. I gave him some examples of what choice words I would have had for a fellow Faranji laughing at that question. He looked even more surprised. He had to think on that one for awhile.

Finally Andrew finished his business, we got plane tickets for the next day (thank you, Ethiopian Airlines) and set off to make a hotel reservation for the next night. Our first choice was full. Oh well. We were even more exhausted than we had been before the “incident“. We called the nicest hotel. They had a room, but only the super fancy one. Andrew negotiated a discount. Done and done.

Now we are in a resort on Lake Tana, with a ridiculously lavish room (really embarrassingly lavish) with 3 meals a day at the hotel. We don’t have to leave. We don’t have to talk to people. We don’t have to hike and we don’t have to look at any more churches. This is a good thing. Yesterday, we took a long nap. This morning we slept late. The good news is that I am starting to feel a bit more human. I even thought that leaving the hotel grounds would be nice. Maybe, at some point. Not yet.

We realized that the “incident” made us come to the right conclusion. We had bitten off more then we could chew. I really didn’t want to start a trek only to call in the middle to be saved. Andrew’s ankle hurts and a trek was not going to improve that. I wish we could have realized all of this without the drama, but it seems to have taken the drama to get us where we need to be.

The right place

Last night we had a beautiful long dinner outside under the sparking lights of the resort. We sat with this lovely American couple who actually moved to New Zealand in response to George W starting his shenanigans. We talked for hours about their research and travels in Africa in the late 60s. We also compared travel toilet stories, and that is always fun. As I was sitting outside, with the magical lights sparking, eating good food and enjoying the company, I was very sure we had made the right decision.

Gheralta and the Churches

(This part written by Kate)

We entered heaven. I just wish we could have stayed more than 2 nights. Our lonely planet book said Gheralta Lodge was the best value hotel in Ethiopia, possibly Africa. It is certainly the best run hotel we have been to yet. We were in Tigray, near the rock churches. (I never realized that this trip would include as much hiking to remote old Christian churches as it has. Between the cave churches of Capaddoccia and the rock churches of Ethiopia we will have spent a fair amount of time church hunting. Not too bad for an agnostic and a Jew.)

The hotel is set on a large property, with stunning views from two sides and circular rooms placed about the grounds. There are no lights between rooms, so they provide a large flashlight, however the bright full moon cast all the light we needed. The water is not drinkable, so they provide drinkable filtered water. Tourists can’t eat raw veggies in Ethiopia, so they grow their own veggies, and we got to eat them. (heaven be I love raw veggies, I had forgotten how good they could be.)

The Ascent to Qorqor (Written by Andrew)

We did some basic research on the churches that are easily reachable from the lodge. Our various sources - Lonely Planet and the lodge’s copy of a French publication about the churches of Tigrai - agreed on the most spectacular church: Abuna Yemata Guh. However, they also agreed that the final ascent to this church required “a certain agility and lack of a fear of heights”. Lonely Planet goes further to say that “The last two minutes require nerves of steel -- our hands are sweating just thinking about it!” The description in the Bradt guide says that (paraphrasing) “pausing or doubts could leave you stuck and in a very precarious situation.” Accordingly, when we asked Binyam (the most English proficient of the hotel staff) to suggest a church to go to, we specified that we would like to avoid Guh. He brightened, said that he understood, and wholeheartedly recommended that we go to the two churches, Beit Maryam and Beit Daniel, at Qorqor. Great, we agreed quickly, grabbed our indefatigable driver, Girmei, and we were off.

As we started, we mentioned to Girmei that we needed recommendations for churches to see after Qorqor. He replied that the guide would suggest them. Guide? We didn’t realize we were picking up a guide. We became very suspicious of guides after our experience in Axum. But, after a quick non-verbal eyeball stare, Kate and I agreed to go along politely. Driving through a small village, we stopped at a sign that said “Gheralta Guide Association”. Girmei never turned the engine off. A well dressed kid, 20ish, ran over, opened the door, and hopped in. We kept going. Girmei let the guide, Gabriel, know that we were going to Qorqor. I turned to the guide and asked how much he cost for the day. He, fortunately, responded with a very small amount. We were settled, relaxed and approaching a very steep mountain. Mountain? Not quite what we had in mind, but, OK.

Girmei parked in the shade of a reasonably large tree, and an immediate swarm of children were upon us. Gabriel led me to an older dude to whom we paid our entrance fee, and then we turned up the trail. An even older dude with a stick joined us. I looked at him and looked to Gabriel. “He’s the scout, he is official.” OK. The next 30 minutes of slowly hiking up a fairly steep trail were accompanied by our Official scout yelling at, arguing with, and sometimes actually getting into physical tussles with Unofficial scouts and children who wanted money from us in exchange for their accompaniment. This was irksome, tiring, and fairly sad: all these young men want some unknown tip from us at the end of a long walk to and from a church. Eventually, our Official scout shook off all but the most persistent two boys, who hung far enough behind to avoid his castigations, yet remained close enough to serenade us with their echoing songs.

After a rigorous hike, with numerous breaks (ostensibly to look at the truly marvelous views), and a final ascent through a narrow, loose-rock strewn crack, we got to the top. Or rather, at that immediate moment I thought we got to the top. After a long rest, Gabriel showed us a cave. The church builders had started building the church here before a sign from god indicated that it should be higher up. So they abandoned their work, now just a cave, and moved higher. Thanks, god. Thanks.

From this point it was less hiking and more climbing. The guide and the Official scout pointed out handholds and footholds. They pulled us, they pushed us. The Official scout has amazingly strong hands. A strange man had his hands all over my wife’s ass. In some other circumstance I would have gallantly stood up in defense of her honor. But, struggling up the side of a cliff, Kate and I both were, instead, rather thankful.

More rests, more climbs. At each stopping point, we heard the singsong of the children following close behind. Funny, they didn’t sound winded or tired at all.

Another cave where god wasted some of the energy of two carvers, another cave where god tested the desire of the climbing-impaired nonbelievers to continue the ascent. Luckily for god, if indeed he/she/it really wanted us to see the church, we continued since, luckily for us, the landscape surrounding us was spectacular, and after each short climb we got to see it from a different angle, the clouds moved to show it in a different light, and, as we scampered from side to side of the mountain, we were allowed completely different views.

Finally, Gabriel pointed out the church. A small corner of a building jutted out from the cliff-face across the way. We made an easy walk along a smooth trail to the front door. We passed the various animals that the priests maintain for foodstuffs. We almost got lost in a wonderful meditation trying to determine how a cow could manage its way up the same path we had taken.

A priest came over with the key. Shoes were removed, the “men’s” door was opened. All but Kate entered. The “women’s” door was opened from the inside. Both doors open onto the same space. Religion is a funny beast at times.

The church is covered in some wonderful paintings which our guide explained to us. He described the architecture. Kate and I listened but really thought about the faith and spirituality involved in the worship and prayer at this church. For Beit Maryam is a working church. Able bodied folk come to worship here for every mass. During special celebrations, the church is packed and the immediate vicinity, on top of the mountain, is filled. This has been going on for centuries. The oldest priest is, reportedly, 125. He is now too old to climb up and down the mountain, so he never leaves. This is important. This is the stuff that takes the edge off the drudgery of subsistence farming.

I got to thinking about how, as a child, my family would drive to temple for Friday services or the high holy days. We drove, even though it was only a twenty or thirty minute walk on perfectly level, paved, ground. Worshippers at Beit Maryam on Qorqor climb a cliff face in the dark in order to attend five hour celebrations of mass (during which no one is allowed to sit down). No matter how much we believed in what we were doing when we went to temple, it just wasn’t that large a part of our lives. The comparison with the faith that is practiced at this church stunned me.

On our way out of the church we stumbled into a crowd of Ethiopians. They weren’t locals and they weren’t worshippers. Rather, they were a large group of tourism students from Axum. They were making a documentary. We participated in their interviews. Afterwards, Kate interviewed the kid with the camera. He was wearing a shirt that read “Fuck Google. Ask me how.” We were amused by his choice of attire for visiting churches.

The second church, Beit Daniel, is around the mountain top. The tiny doorway stands in the mountainside along a narrow trail whose other side drops precipitously down. This church is not in use. It is small, and covered in fairly simplistic paintings.

We enjoyed its solitude and quiet for a few moments before starting the descent. The contemplation of which, and subsequent dreading of, I had begun very early in our climb. I needn’t have worried so. While it was scary in bits, and we did end up with scrapes on our hands and legs from various bracing positions, neither of us ever fell off. The only truly hard element was when it came time to tip our scout. The guide, when asked, had given us no suggestions as to the amount of the tip. Our first, second, and third guesses were too low; the scout kept his hand out to us expectantly until he deemed the amount of cash correct and our shame in under tipping had been fully realized. Thanks, guide.

Sidebar: We have heard many tall tales from our guides. Some of the tales are local legend, such as the palace in the Southwest of Axum being that of the Queen of Sheba. Some seem to be just falsehood, probably driven by a need to not say “I don’t know.” (Admittedly, a very difficult thing to say.) While sitting with our guide in the doorway of the church in Degum, which we went to after lunch and really doesn‘t warrant further description, we discussed the meanings of Ethiopian names: Haile: by the power of; Sellasie: trinity; and, Gebre: Onion? The last one didn’t sit quite right when he told us. The famous (here in Ethiopia, ridiculously famous) runner, Haile Gebresellasie, would therefore be named “By the Power of Onion and Trinity“. Kate just prompted me to write this as she leaned up from her book discussing a trek through the Ethiopian highlands, to let me know that Gebre means Servant. So, our runner’s name is By the Power of the Servant of the Trinity, which seems much more appropriate for a religious people.

Churches should be seen and not heard. (written by Kate)

Which is just to say we liked looking at the Tigrayian Churches much more then we liked listening to their all night celebrations. At first we thought the chanting was coming from our neighbor’s room. She looked like the kind of overly fit person who would listen to a local music CD after a day of hiking. Then we realized that it was coming from outside the hotel property. From 9pmish (our new bedtime) until 6am the next morning (it is possible there was a break in the middle, but not too long) we heard the chanting, drumming and clanking of an Ethiopian prayer service. This would have been much more cool if we had not been trying to sleep.

Gheralta and the Churches

(This part written by Kate)

We entered heaven. I just wish we could have stayed more than 2 nights. Our lonely planet book said Gheralta Lodge was the best value hotel in Ethiopia, possibly Africa. It is certainly the best run hotel we have been to yet. We were in Tigray, near the rock churches. (I never realized that this trip would include as much hiking to remote old Christian churches as it has. Between the cave churches of Capaddoccia and the rock churches of Ethiopia we will have spent a fair amount of time church hunting. Not too bad for an agnostic and a Jew.)

The hotel is set on a large property, with stunning views from two sides and circular rooms placed about the grounds. There are no lights between rooms, so they provide a large flashlight, however the bright full moon cast all the light we needed. The water is not drinkable, so they provide drinkable filtered water. Tourists can’t eat raw veggies in Ethiopia, so they grow their own veggies, and we got to eat them. (heaven be I love raw veggies, I had forgotten how good they could be.)

The Ascent to Qorqor (Written by Andrew)

We did some basic research on the churches that are easily reachable from the lodge. Our various sources - Lonely Planet and the lodge’s copy of a French publication about the churches of Tigrai - agreed on the most spectacular church: Abuna Yemata Guh. However, they also agreed that the final ascent to this church required “a certain agility and lack of a fear of heights”. Lonely Planet goes further to say that “The last two minutes require nerves of steel -- our hands are sweating just thinking about it!” The description in the Bradt guide says that (paraphrasing) “pausing or doubts could leave you stuck and in a very precarious situation.” Accordingly, when we asked Binyam (the most English proficient of the hotel staff) to suggest a church to go to, we specified that we would like to avoid Guh. He brightened, said that he understood, and wholeheartedly recommended that we go to the two churches, Beit Maryam and Beit Daniel, at Qorqor. Great, we agreed quickly, grabbed our indefatigable driver, Girmei, and we were off.

As we started, we mentioned to Girmei that we needed recommendations for churches to see after Qorqor. He replied that the guide would suggest them. Guide? We didn’t realize we were picking up a guide. We became very suspicious of guides after our experience in Axum. But, after a quick non-verbal eyeball stare, Kate and I agreed to go along politely. Driving through a small village, we stopped at a sign that said “Gheralta Guide Association”. Girmei never turned the engine off. A well dressed kid, 20ish, ran over, opened the door, and hopped in. We kept going. Girmei let the guide, Gabriel, know that we were going to Qorqor. I turned to the guide and asked how much he cost for the day. He, fortunately, responded with a very small amount. We were settled, relaxed and approaching a very steep mountain. Mountain? Not quite what we had in mind, but, OK.

Girmei parked in the shade of a reasonably large tree, and an immediate swarm of children were upon us. Gabriel led me to an older dude to whom we paid our entrance fee, and then we turned up the trail. An even older dude with a stick joined us. I looked at him and looked to Gabriel. “He’s the scout, he is official.” OK. The next 30 minutes of slowly hiking up a fairly steep trail were accompanied by our Official scout yelling at, arguing with, and sometimes actually getting into physical tussles with Unofficial scouts and children who wanted money from us in exchange for their accompaniment. This was irksome, tiring, and fairly sad: all these young men want some unknown tip from us at the end of a long walk to and from a church. Eventually, our Official scout shook off all but the most persistent two boys, who hung far enough behind to avoid his castigations, yet remained close enough to serenade us with their echoing songs.

After a rigorous hike, with numerous breaks (ostensibly to look at the truly marvelous views), and a final ascent through a narrow, loose-rock strewn crack, we got to the top. Or rather, at that immediate moment I thought we got to the top. After a long rest, Gabriel showed us a cave. The church builders had started building the church here before a sign from god indicated that it should be higher up. So they abandoned their work, now just a cave, and moved higher. Thanks, god. Thanks.

From this point it was less hiking and more climbing. The guide and the Official scout pointed out handholds and footholds. They pulled us, they pushed us. The Official scout has amazingly strong hands. A strange man had his hands all over my wife’s ass. In some other circumstance I would have gallantly stood up in defense of her honor. But, struggling up the side of a cliff, Kate and I both were, instead, rather thankful.

More rests, more climbs. At each stopping point, we heard the singsong of the children following close behind. Funny, they didn’t sound winded or tired at all.

Another cave where god wasted some of the energy of two carvers, another cave where god tested the desire of the climbing-impaired nonbelievers to continue the ascent. Luckily for god, if indeed he/she/it really wanted us to see the church, we continued since, luckily for us, the landscape surrounding us was spectacular, and after each short climb we got to see it from a different angle, the clouds moved to show it in a different light, and, as we scampered from side to side of the mountain, we were allowed completely different views.

Finally, Gabriel pointed out the church. A small corner of a building jutted out from the cliff-face across the way. We made an easy walk along a smooth trail to the front door. We passed the various animals that the priests maintain for foodstuffs. We almost got lost in a wonderful meditation trying to determine how a cow could manage its way up the same path we had taken.

A priest came over with the key. Shoes were removed, the “men’s” door was opened. All but Kate entered. The “women’s” door was opened from the inside. Both doors open onto the same space. Religion is a funny beast at times.

The church is covered in some wonderful paintings which our guide explained to us. He described the architecture. Kate and I listened but really thought about the faith and spirituality involved in the worship and prayer at this church. For Beit Maryam is a working church. Able bodied folk come to worship here for every mass. During special celebrations, the church is packed and the immediate vicinity, on top of the mountain, is filled. This has been going on for centuries. The oldest priest is, reportedly, 125. He is now too old to climb up and down the mountain, so he never leaves. This is important. This is the stuff that takes the edge off the drudgery of subsistence farming.

I got to thinking about how, as a child, my family would drive to temple for Friday services or the high holy days. We drove, even though it was only a twenty or thirty minute walk on perfectly level, paved, ground. Worshippers at Beit Maryam on Qorqor climb a cliff face in the dark in order to attend five hour celebrations of mass (during which no one is allowed to sit down). No matter how much we believed in what we were doing when we went to temple, it just wasn’t that large a part of our lives. The comparison with the faith that is practiced at this church stunned me.

On our way out of the church we stumbled into a crowd of Ethiopians. They weren’t locals and they weren’t worshippers. Rather, they were a large group of tourism students from Axum. They were making a documentary. We participated in their interviews. Afterwards, Kate interviewed the kid with the camera. He was wearing a shirt that read “Fuck Google. Ask me how.” We were amused by his choice of attire for visiting churches.

The second church, Beit Daniel, is around the mountain top. The tiny doorway stands in the mountainside along a narrow trail whose other side drops precipitously down. This church is not in use. It is small, and covered in fairly simplistic paintings.

We enjoyed its solitude and quiet for a few moments before starting the descent. The contemplation of which, and subsequent dreading of, I had begun very early in our climb. I needn’t have worried so. While it was scary in bits, and we did end up with scrapes on our hands and legs from various bracing positions, neither of us ever fell off. The only truly hard element was when it came time to tip our scout. The guide, when asked, had given us no suggestions as to the amount of the tip. Our first, second, and third guesses were too low; the scout kept his hand out to us expectantly until he deemed the amount of cash correct and our shame in under tipping had been fully realized. Thanks, guide.

Sidebar: We have heard many tall tales from our guides. Some of the tales are local legend, such as the palace in the Southwest of Axum being that of the Queen of Sheba. Some seem to be just falsehood, probably driven by a need to not say “I don’t know.” (Admittedly, a very difficult thing to say.) While sitting with our guide in the doorway of the church in Degum, which we went to after lunch and really doesn‘t warrant further description, we discussed the meanings of Ethiopian names: Haile: by the power of; Sellasie: trinity; and, Gebre: Onion? The last one didn’t sit quite right when he told us. The famous (here in Ethiopia, ridiculously famous) runner, Haile Gebresellasie, would therefore be named “By the Power of Onion and Trinity“. Kate just prompted me to write this as she leaned up from her book discussing a trek through the Ethiopian highlands, to let me know that Gebre means Servant. So, our runner’s name is By the Power of the Servant of the Trinity, which seems much more appropriate for a religious people.

Churches should be seen and not heard. (written by Kate)

Which is just to say we liked looking at the Tigrayian Churches much more then we liked listening to their all night celebrations. At first we thought the chanting was coming from our neighbor’s room. She looked like the kind of overly fit person who would listen to a local music CD after a day of hiking. Then we realized that it was coming from outside the hotel property. From 9pmish (our new bedtime) until 6am the next morning (it is possible there was a break in the middle, but not too long) we heard the chanting, drumming and clanking of an Ethiopian prayer service. This would have been much more cool if we had not been trying to sleep.