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| Another fine view you've got me into... |
A journey to religious enlightenment may be
as rocky and tumultuous as the country track I was following yesterday. Today, I see plenty of pilgrims on foot
making their way to the ancient Christian site of Lalibela, set 2,630m up in
the Lasta Mountains. If the route is
inspiring, the climb has them per-spiring in equal measure - no wonder they
look pleased to arrive.
Proof that a supreme being is shepherding
me (or perhaps just following my blog) came late last night: before dawn,
and in advance of my visit to Lalibela's holy hiding places. I was finding it hard to sleep and sought enlightenment...
By the enlightenment of the single 40w
bulb, I discern an unholy trinity of mosquitoes troubling me with a three-pronged attack. After the lamp, I switch myself to the
offensive - grabbing a damp towel and reaching a state of
near-spiritual fervour; muttering warnings of imminent judgment like a furious cleric. Even at this
hour, the satisfaction of spotting and finally swatting the buzzing suckers is
great.
My triple triumph is not perfect. Each
accurate swipe reveals, in two-dimension, a blood smear exactly as juicy as the
booty robbed from my body. I identify three large, matching bites. I likely
swatted the puncturers only because they were too fat and spaced out on A+.
Theirs was a suicidal jihad, but it served one
valuable purpose: to remind me that today - or what is left of tonight - is
the appointed date for my weekly anti-malarial dose. I'd forgotten to pop the pill, and also forgotten that I'm
still in a malaria 'zone'. A divine nudge was in order.
You see, the Lord (of the flies) works in
mysterious ways. This place is getting
to me.
Lalibela is a must-see attraction, for many. The eleven medieval rock-hewn churches,
crypts and dank connecting passageways are carved down into the local volcanic
stone - a feat accomplished almost a millennia ago. Truly, the achievement is worthy of a
visit. Falsely, it's not the most amazing
site I've seen, even in Ethiopia. I guess some foreign folks see our Stone Henge as just a bunch of big rocks, too.
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| How to stop thieves stealing your lead roof... |
The sturdy, earthy structures are interesting; impressive even when you think how slow and difficult their carving must have been. I confess I expected more - more delicate stonework, better-preserved frescoes and perhaps some peace away from the obsequious guides that pester all visitors. I spot a monk wandering through the shadows with his incense swinging and his robes swishing. I wonder if I could persuade him to smoke away the guides and curio-selling urchins, but he looks busy.
Like the serious, chanting priests I stay the course for a couple of hours; dutifully visiting the different sections of the site and framing a few photos. It's plenty long enough for the carpet fleas to hop aboard, and for the next few days I'll be washing all my kit to be rid of them. Perhaps the churches became flea-ridden tourist traps when World Heritage labelled Lalibela as one of the most relio-historically significant sites in the Christian world? No, tourists (sorry, pilgrims) have been visiting since the 16th century, so the little biters have a glorious history. Still, wasn't there a sermon about disinfecting your carpets once every few decades?
As you will have guessed, or already know, extreme religion is something I don't enjoy or even appreciate
properly. I'm similarly ignorant about wine or even coffee. All three seem helpful enough in moderation, and many folks only make it through the week with an intake of one, or all three. But the suffocating proximity of Lalibela's faith-based ritual starts to turn me off. I'm sceptical of such entrenched displays of power and fawning, even if the history or engineering appeals to my curiosity.
On Monday morning, I load the bike; keen to continue my journey. As a biker, I'm not keen to contemplate the next world too closely - I intend to experience plenty more yet in this one, thank you. Personally, I'd rather motor through mountain village scenery - finding glory in the delicate or brutal beauty of nature, and the warmth and friendliness of strangers. The teachings of the various prophets will have to validate through this medium, and hopefully that'll keep the big guy happy.
Rolling down the steep road, descending one range, I have another set of mountains ahead. Early morning sun is glinting into my visor, but I can still revel in the
patchwork landscape unfolding below: another superb view across Ethiopia. The ribbon of asphalt ripples away towards the horizon.
The asphalt soon turns to gravel, but it's
easier on the bike than yesterday's route:
a grader has been along recently and the track is now smooth and fast -
or smooth at least: too many cattle herders linger on the road for this to be
'fast'. I'm content to share the highway
and watch the flower-strewn fields through which it unfurls.
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| A pilgrim |
A
cliche: what goes around, comes around.
For every kid that screws up his (or her) face and viciously beats some
small animal, there's a father or mother in turn taking a whip hand to some
unfortunate little waif. These rare moments
aside, the region seems content with its lot - and I'm sure there are plenty of
Bolivians who'd trade locations in a instant.
At the T-junction with the main road, 30
miles south, I turn right and head west towards
Gonder. I foolishly skip the chance to
fill up with fuel, then spend the next hour wondering whether I'll run out
before the next fill up point. Sound
familiar? It should do - I have a bad
habit of doing this.
The nagging petrol gauge can't distract me
from the ride, however. I must have the
wind behind me, or maybe it's the thin air at this altitude(?), or is there a
slight downhill gradient...? Whatever
the reason, the Bavarian beauty is skipping along the asphalt with the light
feet of a Strictly Come Dancing pro chasing
Bambi for a subscription to Horse & Hound.
The video camera can't keep up with how spectacular the landscape is. I give up trying to catch all the
different vistas, each one surpassing the last - like one of those screen-saver
programmes where each photo has you even more impressed than before, until you
can't take it any longer.
Except, I could take this all day, given
enough petrol. At one point it gets silly
- the road sweeps down a few curves and then along a narrow ridge that might
have been dangerously windswept, only today it isn't. My video camera sweeps too, from left to right
and back again, simply because I can't decide which panorama is the
more beautiful. In other countries, you might drive days to catch a view less than this in clear weather.
I've stumbled upon it without even trying - lucky me!
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| Gonder's Royal Enclosure. A more modern operating structure than my bank. |
By early afternoon I've descended to a plateau, dodged the rain (again) and ascended once more: to the town of Gonder, itself quite high up at 2,210m. I check into the Belegez Pension (a modest hotel with a good restaurant opposite), then scamper to an internet cafe just as sheets of rain rip down from the clouds.
Gonder - which could be pronounced with the
lingering snarl used for 'Moooordooor' in Lord
Of The Rings - has a mountain top location and plenty of castles. Six, I think, clustered within a large
compound known as the Royal Enclosure and dating from the 17th century. Parapets and arches abound. It has status as a one-time capital of the
country.
Back in the day, way back, parts of this palace were so decorated with gold, ivory and gilded mirrors that it was widely considered by travellers 'more beautiful than Solomon's house'. And you know what a wise, rich guy that Mr. Solomon was.
Later bouts of looting, earthquakes, occupation and neglect did for the Royal Enclosure until the World Heritage (them again) stepped in to restore and preserve what was left.
A hired guide walks me for an hour around
the palaces, giving me some history of the stone walled buildings and the
families who built and lived in each.
Some of the detail he pours out might even have been accurate. I enjoy the stroll, and the chat, but to be honest, we've got a few castles and
stone ruins in the UK, too, and Central America also goes in for ruins in a big way. The ones I've visited are mostly older, and
more impressive than Gonder. I'm just sayin'.
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| Gonder's Royal Enclosure |
I
don't want to rain on the parade, and Gonder deserves some respect from this
Brit: it was the British bombing of the occupying Italian forces that did most
of the recent damage!
On Wednesday, I try patiently to check in with
my bank - again - in order to determine my next ride route. How many days do I have before a courier will arrive? Do I need to cancel bookings? Can I catch up friends waiting for me, and do I need to consider a visa extension?
There's still no acknowledgement, feedback,
update or initiative from the mighty institution, so I have to give up for
another day. Ironic, wouldn't you
agree? Of all the troubles and problems
one might predict with travel in Africa, the largest waste of time and money
comes from trying to have a simple conversation with my own bank back in
Blighty.
Actually, on reflection, I suppose you
might have guessed the bankers would be a problem.
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