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Ethiopia Part VI: Lalibela and its Churches built by Angels

29 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

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Tags

Archaeological Sites, Churches, History

At St George’s Church – the most famous Lalibela site

Our rest day in Mekele was pretty epic for me.  I luxuriated in our semi-suite, taking the longest of hot showers, sleeping in, writing from our couch, getting a massage and a haircut!  It was a glorious day of what I like to refer to as re-humanization, and I didn’t even feel bad about not having left the hotel once during the day.  Mike went out for a wander around the city and did manage to convince me to head out that evening promising me he’d found a really good pizza joint.  He was not wrong.

Lalibela and its plethora of UNESCO world heritage sites were our next destination of choice and we initially thought we were going to be able to fly there until we realized that any flight from Mekele to Lalibela stopped over in Addis for the night first.  So, we reluctantly booked a shared car with ETT Travel for $30 each for the 9-hour drive over very hilly and sometime rough roads and terrain.  In the am when we left, we discovered that our co-passengers had re-booked for the following day and we ended up getting a car to ourselves.  I happily laid out in the back seat and spent much of the drive nose deep in my kindle.  Knowing how to spend long hours in vehicles without getting antsy was getting to be a vital talent on this trip.

We made a stop for lunch at a very non-descript hotel along the way and I tried, unsuccessfully to connect to Wi-Fi and get some messages from friends.  I swore I would never complain about the speed of Wi-Fi in the States ever again!  This lunch also afforded me yet another example of pure, willful arrogance on the part of an Ethiopian.  Our waitress, when giving us the Wi-Fi password told us that it was all lower case hotal”whateverthenameofthehotelwas”.  When I inquired, due to the strange spelling, whether she meant “hotel” rather than “hotal?” – she confidently asserted it was the latter.  Upon unsuccessfully connecting using “hotal”, but successfully connecting with “hotel” – I let her know, for the benefit of future guests who asked, that it was, indeed, “hotel” and not “hotal” that worked as the correct password.  I was trying to be helpful.  Instead, she got super argumentative and insisted that it was “hotal” – essentially calling my poor, unbiased, unthinking iPhone a liar.

I give up.  Ethiopians cannot, under any circumstances, stand corrected about anything – chicken bone or Wi-Fi password – it matters not.

Men chanting and singing during a church ceremony in Lalibela

By the time the car had started climbing up and up to the altitude of Lalibela (8,202 feet), the heavens had opened and a downpour turned the roads to a muddy torrent.  It gave the winding roads an ever more otherworldly feel since we had so rarely encountered rain on this voyage of discovery.  Once arrived, we had the car drop us at the generically named hotel Lalibela where we were happy to find a very reasonably priced ($20) room available and not so happy to feel the brisk chill in the air.

Deciding to walk into town to find dinner, we soon discovered that Lalibela itself is extremely steep and we certainly walked off our tired car-bound butts as we found ourselves making our way through the southern church complex to our chosen restaurant.

Against my better judgment, I decided I was going to try and order steak one more time, convincing myself, momentarily, that if I just explained in enough detail how not to overcook the meat, that maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t be forced to chew on shoe leather for dinner.

I was mistaken.  And paid for it.

Witnessing an infant baptism ceremony

Mike and I got into a sibling-like quarrel over dinner and he left early taking a tuk tuk back to the room without me.  I found myself in quite the foulest of moods after my disappointing meal, and the realization that I was already over-churched by this country and I wasn’t all that excited about what awaited me the next day.  I kept reminding myself that the guidebooks all claimed that Lalibela was the one place in the country that was “unmissable”.

We would see.

I took the 3rd tuk tuk I found back to the hotel, having just turned and walked away from the first two who tried to quote me a rate that was 3 times the going rate for a 10 minute journey – despite their post-quote protestations that since I’d found them out, they’d be more than happy to take me for the fair price I wanted.  How would they ever learn not to cheat the Faranji if they didn’t lose business as a consequence?

Mike and I didn’t settle our squabble till the morning, but doing so over fried eggs and decent coffee certainly helped.  We set off to the Northern complex of churches and spent the first frustrating 20 minutes trying to find a good English speaking guide.

Walkways between the churches of the northern cluster with our guide

Several claimed to speak English but couldn’t coherently answer any questions.  Some just wanted way too much money.  Finally, we settled on a guy called Mike, ignoring the fact that we only had an hour left before they closed for lunch and he wandered off for fifteen minutes saying he needed five minutes to bid goodbye to his previous group.

I took a deep breath.  It was becoming clear to me that my impatience and tolerance for the hassles of independent travel were growing.  I had one week to go before I’d be on a plane to London.  I tried to keep that in mind and stay present.

When Mike got back he immediately launched into a verbal description of the churches here in Lalibela which were built between the 7th and 13th centuries, and how each complex had been carved out of essentially one large rock.  King Lalibela’s intention with building these churches was to recreate Jerusalem.   Thinking that was, indeed, quite an impressive engineering feat, I wasn’t prepared for his straight faced explanation that the churches, therefore, had been built by the angels and not people.

Amazing architecture – must have been built by Angels

I guffawed into automatic laughter – only to see Mike reprimanding me with his ever-uber-polite face as he nodded in agreement with our guides’ utterly preposterous nonsense.  His look silenced me as I uneasily squished the slew of mockery that wanted to burst out of me and be unleashed on the head of this guide whom I was paying to teach me historically sound facts – not fill my brain with hair-brained ridiculous notions steeped in myth and blind faith.

Sigh.

Steep winding staircases

It didn’t end there.  In roaming around the first set of churches I had to listen to our guide explain:

  1. How I wasn’t going to be allowed entry into the Church of Golgotha because Jesus had told Mary Magdalene not to touch him after he was resurrected, supposedly because she might have been menstruating. Cue my epic eye-roll.
  2. Why science is wrong. Yes- you read that right.  He wanted to have a discussion about how science had lead people astray and that faith in Jesus and the Orthodox church was the only path to enlightenment.
  3. Why a pool of putrid green bacteria-laden filthy water had miraculous properties that cured infertility if the woman agreed to being lowered into it, naked. Of course I wanted to know WHO and HOW she was lowered naked…but I was again, shushed by you-know-who.  (Mike – if you’re reading this, know that I love you.)
  4. How there must be something fundamentally wrong with me if I had chosen not to have babies and how I absolutely should still try to find a husband who could give me some as that was the purpose of a woman.

The green “fertility-cure” pool

I tried to focus on the architecture of these quite magnificent ancient buildings instead, also trying not to think about the all-too-familiar filthy carpet that hadn’t been changed in several decades that we were forced to walk upon shoe-less.

Toward the end of our morning tour, we were told that we would be “lucky enough” to witness a live church ceremony taking place as part of the festivities of Lent.  We entered a church that was jam-packed with old and young tiny turbaned men all draped in massive lengths of white cotton happily clanging away on their little crosses with bells on them as they took it in turns to sing (I use this term very loosely as it connotes with it the sense that there might be melody or musicality of some sort accompanying said “singing”.  In actuality, the sound this group made was reminiscent of a group of urology patients who were simultaneously and unceremoniously having their catheters removed against their will and without the assistance of anesthesia or pain meds.)

St. Georges from the side

The cacophony these discordant laments produced was extremely uncomfortable for me to listen to.  Now, I came across a variety of tourists over the course of our two-day stay in Lalibela who remarked that they enjoyed these dirge-like choruses (Dirge, not to be confused with Derg which was the name given to the ruling communist party in Ethiopia from 1975 for 13 years which resulted in the “Red Terror” and the genocide of over 750,000 citizens.  Mike kept warning me not to say “Dirge” out loud as I might offend people, until I pointed out that the words Derg and Dirge only sound alike and don’t mean the same.)  I can’t say I was one of them.  I had to get away as quickly as possible.

Additionally, I had to get away when I learned how women are not allowed to participate in the actual church ceremonies.

Ugh.

I include a video here so that you can judge for yourselves.  And, as a nice comparative, I also include a tiny excerpt from the choral singing of the York Minster that I visited a few weeks later in the UK – you can be the judge of which style of worship is more musical.

As a comparison, here is a short excerpt from a choir singing during mass at York’s Minster.

Mike and I made our way back to our hotel via St. George’s church – the most famous of the Lalibela landmarks.  I had this notion that perhaps, in the last few moments before closing for lunch, we might find it devoid of crowds and therefore more photo worthy.

I was right – and we happily spent a solid 20 minutes taking an array of pictures of the very thing that adorns countless travel magazines and brochures beckoning folks to experience Ethiopia.

After much needed fruit smoothies and a quick rest, we returned to the Southern circuit of churches, stopping momentarily to take in the museum at the site’s entrance.  There were no signs or explanations, unfortunately, in English – so we spent most of the time there trying to make sense of the numerous pictorial depictions of torture (we were later informed these paintings all signified the 7 deaths by torture and subsequent miraculous return to life of St. George) that involved all manner of horrific ways that humans can produce pain and death in another human.

The afternoon’s complex of churches was actually very interesting – and made further enjoyable by the fact that they are all connected via subterranean dark tunnels that the guide assured us were symbols of the “passages of hell.”  I wondered if, perhaps they just made it easier to get from one underground church to another without needing to climb up and around, but I had learned to keep my mouth shut by this point.

Entering one of the passageways between churches

It is quite difficult for me to comprehend the massive commitment of time, labor and resources that must have gone in to create this many churches and to have made so many, underground, so close to one another and carved out of solid pieces of rock.  It is quite a wonder and a marvel to see.

I hope that the tone of my post doesn’t fail to express how impressive the site itself is.  It certainly earns its reputation as the 8th wonder of the world.  It was beautiful and certainly a historian or archaeologist’s dream to visit.  I simply found I was unable to connect to the place on an emotional level.  I think you need to be a person of faith for that.  And I’m not.

That evening, Mike and I ventured out to the “best restaurant in Ethiopia” and found a restaurant that had an incredible view, and a pretty decent menu.  A storm was brewing and we enjoyed watching the thunderclouds gather and listened to the rumbles as we ate.

Views as the thunderclouds gathered at Mountain View Restaurant

As we walked back up a set of hills in order to find a tuk tuk back to our accommodation, we were passed by a group of kids around 5 or 6 years of age who asked us where we were from.  Upon hearing our response, they all chanted “We Hate Trump!”

We feel you, I thought.  Even here, in the remote holy city of Lalibela, tiny humans knew all about the International disgrace that our President has brought upon our nation.  For that I continue to lament.

On arrival, we got into a discussion with the guy at the front desk about our travel options for getting to our next stop – Bahir Dar.  It turned out that we would pay about $50 USD each for the 6-7 hour drive.  However, he pointed out that there were two flights per week that only cost $40 USD, and it just so happened that there was a flight that next morning.  After a brief chat about the pros and cons of leaving Lalibela sooner than originally planned (we were considering another 2-3 day trek amongst the surrounding villages) Mike and I decided to book 2 seats on the flight leaving the next morning.

Boarding our little plane for the short 40 minute flight from Lalibela to Bahir Dar

I was happy that we were going to essentially end our Northern Historical tour of Ethiopia in a city that we had reluctantly excluded from the start of our journey because of the driving distance from Bahir Dar to Gonder, our first stop.  Adding this city to the end of our clockwise journey solved that problem and eliminated the need to make that connection overland since we’d simply be flying back to Addis in a few days in any case.

My next post will be from this lakeside, palm-fringed tourist destination.

Ethiopia Part IV: Tigray – where Churches are the Cherry not the Cake

08 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

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Tags

Archaeological Sites, Churches, Climbing, Culture, Hikes, Religion, Trekking

Views over Tigray

We had only driven out of Axum for about 90 minutes – I was laying spread out across one of the bench seats, taking advantage of our massive luxurious van for just the two of us – when Mike told me to get up and look out of the window.  This is what I saw.

Scenery right out of Axum

The geography in this area of Ethiopia is astounding.  A huge pink and orange rock escarpment with towering sandstone cliffs and mountains that are reminiscent of Utah, Arizona’s Monument Valley, North Western Australia and Namibia to mention a few similar places.  This is all just wonderful – BUT!  They sold me this trip to see CHURCHES??????!!!!

It blows my mind that the tour company who markets this particular route only focuses on the historic churches that we would get to see.  No mention is made of the views, or the trekking opportunities.  All that was said was that a few of the churches on day two required a little bit of clambering to get to.  This was a huge understatement, both in scope and in practical terms.

Mike ascending the vertical wall at Debre Damo

I had agreed to make our first stop the monastery of Debre Damo – which only allowed for male visitors.  In fact, the monks only allowed male cows, chickens, donkeys and any other livestock they needed for their purposes to be provided for their day to day needs.  I’m guessing female cows would be just too much of a powerful temptation for them, living all alone at the top of a monolithic mountain?

The fun part of visiting this monastery is that it involved a near vertical 15 m rock climb where the priest assists the person climbing via a rope around the waist.  Mike is a little afraid of heights, so I was super proud of him for wanting to give this a go.  Plus, I wanted everything documented on camera in case something funny or super embarrassing happened to him on the way up or down.

Fortunately for me, I got both.

Enjoy this wonderful video footage of Mike being aided down the rock, and toward the end, not even being allowed to place his feet to steady himself: https://youtu.be/xWNVzRtlYG8

After a nice lunch, our next stop was located at the end of another stunning drive through the magnificent countryside, and according to the guidebook, one of the most scenic roads in the country.  There was a complex of 3 churches called the Teka Tesray cluster, but we’d been advised to just visit the most beautiful – Medhane Alem.  As we approached the trailhead (because, yes, you have to hike to each of these churches as they’ve been built literally into the rock/mountain) we were swarmed by a bunch of kids wanting to make some quick birr to show us the way.  We chose one competent looking enough chap and we made our way through the late afternoon sun up the steep sandstone cliffs to the church – which was about 30 minutes away.

Beautiful Medhane Alem

What made this particular location a little unique was that we were surrounded by a beautiful variety of cacti, eucalyptus trees, and green, rolling hills.  It reminded me of a fragrant late afternoon in Tuscany – except without the olive trees.  We entered the gated entrance with its standard issue crowd of elderly shawled folk who seemed to “live” at the church and beg for money.  We were told to remove our shoes and make our way through the dirty and rocky garden area leading to the white rock-hewn church – and I just couldn’t understand why they didn’t just let us remove our shoes at the doorway – thereby ensuring we didn’t bring the dirt and dust inside the church with us.  I asked this of our guide and was informed that the rocky path was already “holy land” which appeared to be more important than whether or not it was clean.

Artwork inside Medhane Alem

The inside of this 6th century church was very cool and carved out in one giant piece, consisting of 4 inter connected rooms containing mosaics, remnants of religious artwork depicting the angels and the apostles, and of course, the holy of holies that contained a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, in line with Ethiopian Orthodox teachings.

As usual, the outside and surrounding scenery was more fascinating to me than the inside of the church, where it was hard for me to not be preoccupied with how old the carpet was and how many thousands of dirty feet had walked here since it was last replaced.

Having said that, the feat of work this represented and the age of the church itself was pretty staggering.  I think when you’re dealing with architecture this ancient, it is really hard for a layman to determine the actual talent that may or may not be involved in its creation, based purely on its age.

As with many of these very very old churches – the guides often claimed that the only explanation for their creation at a time when technology was so limited was that they were made with the assistance of the angels.  These explanations are given entirely with a straight face, I might add.

Making our way back to the van as the sun was setting was rather magical and I managed to get some nice sunset shots.  Why is it we never tire of a beautiful sunset?

Pretty sunset as we descend from Medhane Alem

That night we stayed in a small town called Hawzen.  It took visiting four hotels before Mike and I found one with an available room that had hot water in the bathroom – the Habesha Hotel.  We soon headed out in search of a restaurant our driver had recommended, and when we did finally find it – it turned out it was only serving fasting food.  It’s funny to me how excited the restaurant staff are to tell us that their menu doesn’t contain any dairy, meat or animal fat of any kind – but it’s clearly because they don’t realize that hearing such news is an instant disappointment for me.

I settled on ordering some vegetable soup and beer.  And eating some rice off of Mike’s plate, of course.

Our second day in Tigray was definitely the highlight.  This is in spite of the horrendous hassle we had to overcome in locating a scout for each of the two churches we hiked to – you can read about the first instant in my former post here.  Despite this, it was easily my favorite day of the entire trip – perhaps since the scenery, degree of difficulty, and the steep ledges we had to scramble over to reach these churches built on top of mountains was altogether unexpected.

Stunning landscapes and beauty of Ethiopia

Our first visit was to a church called Abuna Yemal, which, funnily enough – was featured in a BBC article about the priest having what was claimed the “most difficult commute in the world.”  The route was a tough scramble, possibly a technical enough route that a harness and rope would be called for were it in the States – but I certainly enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came from trying to find foot and hand holds (and doing so in the midst of yelling at the bunch of super annoying men, dressed in SUITS I might add, to shut the hell up as they threw out constant muttered directives of how and where I should climb, assuming I was a complete idiot who’d never scrambled before.)

Me, ascending sans rope to the Rock Hewn church of Abuna Yemal

I was, however, filled with more than adrenaline when one of these douche bags (who expect tips even though you never asked for help, in fact, when you had actively told them to go away multiple times) actually down climbed right over the top of me and stood on my hand.  I screamed at him, in a terrified rage, for committing the ultimate rock climbing faux pas – though I’m not sure he really gave a shit.

It did end up being totally worth it – and the views from the teeny tiny ledge that led to the church were stupendous.  Hopefully you can get some idea from these pictures.

Sitting on a ledge near the church

Again, the church was a nice cherry to find at the top of this climb, but the journey was reward enough in itself.

This first church was about 3 hours return, and it was well past lunchtime by the time we got back to the van.  I cursed not having known about the number of hours we’d be hiking today, and I cursed our guides/drivers for not telling us to pack a lunch with us to help fuel us for the afternoon’s venture out to Maryam Kokor – which was going to take us another 3 arduous hours to climb and return from.  Luckily, Mike had some chocolate in his pack and Sneetchi gave us some bananas…so we managed fairly well despite our outputs.  It’s just that this was clearly not the first time this company had brought tourists to these places – so why can’t they advise this ahead of time?  SMH.

Not so happy priest at Abuna Yemal with ancient text inscribed on goat skin

The approach to Maryam Kokor was very different, as was our lovely and QUIET scout whom our driver had been kind enough to arrange for us to have after the nightmare we’d experienced at Abuna Yemal.  There were sections of tunnel-like through paths of rocks with giant sandstone walls rising up either side of us.  Then there were sections where we had to clamber on hands and feet on well-trodden and eroded “steps” up the pink cliffs.

Views were out of this world and I include some pictures here.

There were two small churches to visit at the top of the mountain, and the first had separate entrances for men and women.  It looked rather like Medhane Alem inside, though the artwork was far better preserved.  The second much smaller church had just one room with a mural going in a circle across all four walls – but we had to navigate a narrow ledge where the wind threatened to pick us up and throw us up and over the edge where we’d fall several thousand feet to the valley below.  I include some pictures and videos of this exhilarating hike here.

Hanging out on ledges

I felt extremely satisfied and physically spent by the time we made it back to the van.  Here is a link to the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EGFHA4FemY  Not just that – I was rather hungry, but we opted to grab avocado smoothies and make our way to Mekele since it was already 4:30pm in the afternoon – and we would be leaving for our 4 day/3-night trip to the Danakil Depression the very next day – and probably at early o’clock.

Maryam Kokor

We visited our tour agency on arrival in Mekele to pay for our trip – but alas, the credit card machine wasn’t working (shocking, I know.)  So Sneetchi dropped us at a nice hotel (which was a little expensive, but well worth the little bit of luxury we felt we deserved) where we got a SEMI-SUITE, which was essentially a room with an adjoining living area.  More importantly, the restaurant served burgers and fries which we joyfully washed down with large beers and toasted our incredible two day adventure visiting historical churches…I mean, trekking through some of the best scenery I’ve experienced yet on the Dark Continent.

Ethiopia Part III: Visiting the Ancient Axumite Kingdom

04 Sunday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

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Tags

Archaeological Sites, Public Transport, Transport, Travel Days

The most “Totes Adorbs” sheep you’ve ever seen napping anywhere

The night in Debark turned out rather badly.  Though I was pretty much recovered from the shit-barfs, my cough was back with a vengeance and I awoke around midnight to feeling utterly parched, with a hacking cough.  I looked over and saw that my water bottle was empty – so I got up to refill it and was going to steripen it and drink a whole liter ( I was very dehydrated from the prior day’s exertions) – when I discovered, to my horror, that there was no water coming out of the tap.  I looked over at Mike’s stuff – he was out of water too.  None of us had refilled prior to going out the night before and we’d only drank beer with dinner.

Long winding roads to Axum

I tried to go back to sleep, but found that I wasn’t able to and started getting a headache from the dehydration.  Around 630 am, I decided that maybe someone might be up downstairs and could point me towards a functioning tap.  I dressed and walked down the four flights of stairs only to find that it seemed like the whole hotel and/or block had the water turned off.  I begged for hot water from the kitchen, since they were undoubtedly going to make an entire cauldron of coffee for the buffet breakfast that was due to be ready by 7.  No one understood me.  I went out into the street and walked along for a few blocks when I saw a security guard dozing in a garden of a building that appeared to have a hose attached to a tap.  I walked over and showed him my empty bottles and he kindly turned the tap and miraculously – water came out!

As I hurried back to our room to treat the water so we could drink – I was stopped by a man in the lobby who told me that Tadele (our asshole tour operator) had told him to come and get Mike and me to go to the bus station.  I thanked him, but explained that we were planning to eat first and head over to the station around 8 o’ clock.  That’s when he said we would need to leave by 7:15 because sometimes the bus showed up at 07:30 am – early from Gonder.

A random dude puts our luggage on the roof of the bus

Frustrated and panicked, I rushed up the stairs, woke Michael up and told him we had 15 minutes to get up, pack and be heading to the station.  It was not the morning I had envisioned but we made it to the station by 0730 and anxiously waited for the bus to arrive, where presumably, someone was sitting in our seat from Gonder to ensure someone else didn’t take it.  It’s a strange system.

New Church of St. Mary of Zion, Axum

Our guide who’d brought us disappeared and the minutes ticked on by with no sign of him or the bus.  Eventually, around 0815, I went and found someone who spoke English and he told me that the bus from Gonder usually showed up around 9am, or later.

All that rushing for no reason.

Additionally – the “guide” eventually showed back up and I asked him why he’d told us to come for 0730?  He repeated that sometimes the bus showed up that early.  Then I asked whether he knew the guy who was actually on the bus reserving our seats.  Turns out that he did.  I asked whether he had that guy’s cell phone number?  He said he did.  So, logically, I asked him “Why on earth didn’t you just tell the guy to give you a call when the bus was 15 minutes away from Debark?”

He stared at me, and then responded “Thank you.  That is a very good idea.”

I’m still not sure if he was being genuine or if he was the first African I’d met who understood the concept of sarcasm.

NOT happy on this bus ride

In any case, the bus eventually showed up on the street at around 9:15am and there was total pandemonium.  Some guy grabbed our suitcases and hauled them up to the roof, and then started demanding money.  People were yelling and squeezing to get on board which had standing room only.  Our guide literally pushed us on board where we played squeezing musical chairs to get into our seats for the journey.

Finally, we were on our way.  Despite the fact that the journey first to Shire was only 180 kms or 100 miles, it took over 9 hours to arrive.  The bus literally struggled to keep moving forward on the bending mountainous roads we covered.  It was incredibly hot, and since Ethiopians just hate direct sunlight or a breeze, most of the windows either stayed shut, or if by the grace of God they were open, the curtain was pulled all the way across preventing precious fresh air from getting in.  It was an exhausting and claustrophobic journey – and we were lucky enough to be seated!  Many people stood this entire way.

Legends abound in Axum

We stopped a couple of times to pee in the bush, but I definitely arrived in Shire dehydrated and tired.  Mike had the smart idea to gather all the faranji folks from the bus (there were about 7 of us) and we each paid for 2 seats on a minibus for the final hours’ drive to Axum and subsequently, we were able to leave straight away.  The room and open windows in the van were an incredible relief – even more so to the few passengers who’d begun their journey that morning at 5am from Gonder!

We finally arrived at our chosen hotel for the night – aptly and generically named Africa Hotel.  Mike and I wandered off to an international hotel for dinner and ordered some delicious tomato soup and then we shared a burger (my appetite had still not fully returned.)

Mike checks out the funeral procession

Group of churchgoing white-robed ladies

We chose to rest the following day as we were both spent from the Simiens and what was an even more arduous day of sitting on the bus the day before.  I did laundry and tried to edit photos – though I was having some major technology issues that was taking hours to work around and in the end I gave up and went for a walk and had beers with Mike at a lovely little restaurant he’d found called Kuda Juice and Burger that had this delightful outdoor green space.  I felt a little better after having a good cry with Mike (I don’t quite remember what was upsetting me at the time) – he is certainly a good listener and I appreciate him for that very much.

It was time to pack and head out again – this time we would be traveling through the region known as Tigray which had some famous 5th and 6th century rock-hewn churches to visit and would be a nice way to kill time as we made our way to Mekele from where we would join a tour with Ethio Travel Tours to the Danakil Depression.

The agency we booked with was located in our hotel and we were given the choice of a one day drive-thru to Mekele visiting a couple of churches, or a two-day private tour where we could visit four or five churches.  Not being an avid history aficionado, and certainly not someone to whom visiting churches, however historical, is that appealing –  I told Mike I wasn’t really bothered about which tour we did and could do whatever he felt made the most sense.  Mike opted for the two-day tour as it would include a visit to Debre Damo – a monastery atop a mountain that was only accessible by men and involved a 15 meter climb with rope and a priest helping to haul you up the vertical cliff.  He liked the idea of the challenge since he has a fear of heights.  I wanted to support him in that brave quest.

Stelae Field in Axum

The next morning we met our driver who said his name was “Sneetchie” – I have no idea if I’ve spelled his name correctly or not.  He was 22 years old and played some awesome music for us in the minivan that we had all to ourselves.  We arranged first of all to visit some of the historic sites of Axum including the Stelae field (which date from 300 to 500 A.D) which most likely served as funeral monuments and pre-date the arrival of Christianity to Ethiopia (Ethiopia was the second country after Armenia to implement the practice of Christianity) The tallest one still standing is 24 meters, and the Great Stele probably fell down during construction – was 33 meters in length.  When Italy occupied Ethiopia under Mussolini’s regime in 1937 – the five broken pieces were taken by truck and ship to Rome as ‘war booty’ and put back together, not getting repatriated back until 1947!

The five-piece stelae that was returned to Ethiopia in 1947

These Stelae marked the center of what at the time was one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world – the Royal Kingdom of Axum, and they are still quite an impressive sight.  There are tunnels and burial sites that you can walk through – and though they were once filled with incredible treasures – they have since all been looted and robbed.

Some of the Stelae had modern reinforcements now

One of the burial sites

We spent a few hours walking around and then when it was time to leave – we couldn’t seem to locate our private van anywhere.  Worse yet, Axum has some of the pushiest cab/tuk-tuk drivers anywhere and we were asked every two minutes whether we needed a taxi.  Getting hungry, I started eating a dry sweet roll I’d bought earlier that morning and some guy walked over and told me to stop eating in public because other people were fasting that day.  I told him that I wasn’t fasting or a Christian.   So, not a very comfortable place to sit around waiting.  Though we did get to watch and photograph these gorgeously cute sheep who were napping on each other on the side of the road.

After wandering around a while longer, we came across a funeral procession and a few of the modern churches that were dotted around the Stelae field and the Queen of Sheba’s baths (though they looked like disintegrating rock walls to me.)  The official Ark of the Covenant was supposedly also housed in some museum in Axum – but our guidebooks stated that there was no credible evidence that it was actually here – so my Indiana Jones’ notions were crushed.

Eventually, Sneetchie showed up and we headed in the direction of Tigray.

Ghana Part II: Slave Castles and Photogenic Elmina Harbor

28 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ghana

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, History, Indigenous People

Elmina had not really been touted as a destination in and of itself by the Dragoman Itinerary or trip description. In fact, almost nothing was mentioned of its stunning harbor that dramatically juxtaposed alongside its famed Slave Castle that I had read about when I was a teenager in high school.

It turned out to be the highlight of the trip so far.

That morning, all that had been organized for the group was a visit to 3 schools that had been built by a charity that Dragoman supports. The visit left me with very mixed feelings – in the first school, the conditions were ideal and the school’s facilities were superior to what I was lucky enough to experience in primary school in the UK. The kids were all clean, healthy, well-dressed with new shoes and new backpacks. When asked what the criteria was for kids to be able to come to this school, we were told that it was purely based on geography and whether parents could bring their kids to school. To me, just looking at the children told me that this wasn’t the case and that this was a group of kids from the elite upper-class persons of Elmina – who obviously deserved a good education – but why was a western supported charity helping kids who came from families that could already afford to support themselves?

The next school was far more moderate and struggled with class sizes of over 70 or 80 kids. It felt like we were diverting the children’s attention from their classwork, and so the visit didn’t sit well with me at all. In addition, these kids were some of the most aggressively “friendly” of any crowds of kids I’ve come across on this continent. When trying to leave, they practically clawed, scratched and grabbed at me to get physical hold of me, along with pulling off my hat and grabbing my hair. I didn’t appreciate that at all.

One highlight of the visit, however, was that this school itself sat on Elmina beach where a local team of fishermen just happened to be pulling in the day’s catch when we were there. It was a spectacle to witness as the men sang songs and clapped in time to create the unity and coordination necessary to pull in the thousands of tiny fish in their nets ashore. I managed to get a good video of the event which I will include here.

https://youtu.be/gFqBfDRylis

Once the visits were over (and they’d gone way overtime) we were hungry for some food and were dropped off downtown to get lunch and take a walk around Elmina.

Once we’d eaten, it became quickly obvious that there was so much here to see and do and the photographic opportunities in Elmina’s gloriously colorful harbor full of life, locals, and fishing boats coming in and out of the harbor demanded that the rest of the day be spent here.

I was also very keen to visit Elmina castle despite the fact that we were visiting the Slave Castle at Cape Coast the next day. Elmina castle is additionally historic because it wasn’t built specifically for the slave trade, but rather as a trading post for other goods’/commodities by the Portuguese in 1482 – 10 years before Columbus supposedly “found” Hispaniola.

I managed to convince Mike and “Precise” Peter (aka Pipi Lou Lou) to come along with me for the $9 tour of the castle and we further planned to make our own way walking all the way back to the beach that housed Stumble Inn and our accommodation for the night.

I could write a book about what visiting Elmina castle was like, but I will attempt to summarize my feelings/thoughts for you here in a more concise manner.   Much like visiting Aushwitz/Birkenau, the Killing Fields of Cambodia, or the Genocide Museum in Kigali – you cannot quite prepare yourself for the horror you feel when you can actually see a place that housed such a shocking testament to the cruelty, sadism and torture of living humans that other humans are capable of inflicting upon another group of people. And doing so without a sense of remorse or conscience. For me, it stirred up a lot of very heavy emotions and made me look at the history of my own nation with a new set of eyes.

Our guide was incredible, thorough and managed to infuse just the right amount of humor when it was needed so as to not detract from the serious nature of our visit. He did a wonderful job of giving us the preliminary world history that set the stage for the slave trade to begin in the first place – namely the decimation of Native Populations in the Americas due to European-introduced diseases, the noteworthy observation of the physical strength and working characteristics of the African people and a backdrop of inter-tribal warfare that set the stage for the creation of the slave trade, which was, in large part started by Africans enslaving other Africans in exchange for weapons to fight.

The Americas needed to build infrastructure and gather resources from their newly acquired lands. The Africans were warring with one another over land and resources in West Africa. The Europeans saw the opportunity for obtaining vast quantities of cheap, and subsequently “free” labor, by rewarding tribal leaders with weapons, and goods in exchange for their “enslaving” their enemy tribal members and bringing them, in chains, to Elmina and other slave castles along the West African coast to be shipped by the thousands to Brazil, South America, the Caribbean and only about 1/3 going to the continental United States.

For almost 400 years – men, women, and children were brought here against their will, separated, thrown in dungeons where a process of elimination would begin and only those “surviving” these harshest of environments would then be subjected to the grueling and inconceivably inhumane Atlantic crossing to their eternal servitude.

We visited both the male and the female dungeons at Elmina where up to a 1000 persons would be crammed, chained to another person at the wrist, feet, or neck for up to 3 months with little to no food, water, or chance to toilet/menstruate or wash. The ventilation was next to nothing with only tiny windows built into the rock, and these people were forced to live like this in almost total darkness.

What really hit me the most is when our guide showed us a section of the “floor” in the male dungeon that had actually been “cleaned/excavated” to show the original brick flooring. It was a good ½ foot lower than the rest of the floor, and he explained that we were literally standing on compressed faeces, urine, and human flesh.

A drainage system had been built into the floor but it was obviously not adequate to eliminate all waste. The stench must have been beyond imagining. In addition, the guide explained that if you wanted to sit or lie down, you would have to get the agreement of whomever you were chained to – and often this person didn’t speak the same language as you and moreover – he might have been from an enemy tribe. Sometimes, your chained partner would die and they would have to wait for a guard to find that person dead before removing him and throwing him into the ocean.

Once a ship was in the harbor ready to set sail for the “New World” – the slaves would be marched through dark tunnels to the “Door of No Return” where they would be stockpiled and chained like sardines end to end until the ship was full, totally unaware of the horrors that awaited them, and still separated from their families.

Our guide explained that it was sometimes during the rush and panic of getting the men and women onto the ships from these passages that families might be reunited for mere moments before being separated again on female or male only decks.

Even more chilling, if you didn’t see or meet up with your loved ones in the tunnels leading to the beach, then you would know that he/she didn’t make it out alive.

The Portuguese were replaced by the Dutch who were then replaced by the British who did the heavy lifting during the slave trade at Elmina. It made me sick to my stomach when after visiting the dungeons we visited the floor directly above the dungeons where the British soldiers had built a church directly over the heads of the persons they were enslaving and torturing. How a person could sing a hymn in praise of Christ with that misery below is beyond my comprehension and it filled me with rage.

If not more upsetting, above the church was the stunning floor that was the Governor’s quarters – palatial and airy with an incredible 365 degree view over Elmina harbor, the beach and the blue ocean – the color of which most of the slaves marched here never even set eyes upon.

The visit left me somber, but as I always feel when visiting important historical sites such as this – it is our duty as human beings on this planet to be informed of our bloody and barbaric history if only in order that it not be repeated. Unfortunately, given what is going on in Libya and in the global sex trade at this moment in time, it appears that slavery has not had its end, making such a site an even bigger duty to visit and ponder.

Once we left the castle – we were literally blown away by further exploration of the bustling life that was to be observed and photographed in the harbor and along the busy main street that marked our path back to the Inn.

Re-caffeinated albeit with slightly warm soft drinks, we three happily walked along smiling and chatting with the locals, high-fiving with the countless little children, and photographing the busy markets overflowing with fish and produce.

As the sun started to glow a little lower on the horizon, we took a daring early turn to the beach hoping against hope that we might be able to take advantage of the beach “wall” that had been created that year to help prevent shore erosion, but that also happened to provide a rather unique way to walk along the beach back to our accommodation.

The bet paid off and I had what turned out to be an incredibly memorable walk back along the beach as the sun turned a golden red and we got back to camp just as it set below the horizon.

I felt especially full and joyous from the day’s learning, and experiences. I would highly recommend Elmina to anyone visiting Ghana – just make sure you have longer than the one day we had!

The Drakensburg Mountains: Visiting The Amphitheater and The Kingdom of Lesotho

10 Wednesday Jun 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Lesotho, South Africa

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Culture, Hikes, Mountains, Villages, Waterfalls

At the Amphitheater Escarpment

At the Amphitheater Escarpment

I was well and truly ready for a day of rest on the bus as my body was spent from two days of hill climbing and I was well and truly hacking up a storm. We headed back up in the shuttle to Mthata where we managed to scramble a quick lunch before piling on the Baz Bus for my penultimate stop in South Africa – The Amphitheater Lodge in the Northern Drakensburg mountains.

Drakensburg literally means “Mountains of Dragons” and they are one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world. As we arrived at The Amphitheater Lodge, we couldn’t help but be impressed by the stunning “Amphitheater” of mountains that formed the backdrop to one of the nicest looking lodges I’ve stayed at on this trip.

The Grain Silo Dorms of Amphitheater Lodge

The Grain Silo Dorms of Amphitheater Lodge

That’s not to say that the hotel stay itself was great – the staff were some of the rudest, strange people I’ve ever come across while traveling. For example – we bought a bottle of white wine on our arrival (the four Baz Bus peeps – Lea, Yarrick, and Amy were together again and I was glad of it because the place was kinda empty) and asked if we could keep it in the fridge behind the bar to keep it cold. Returning a half hour later to get a refill, one of the owners behind the bar bluntly told us “Yar, I don’t know where your wine is – you’ll have to go find the bartender” – despite the fact that she was behind the bar, we didn’t know where the bartender was, and she didn’t even make a single effort to look in any of the fridges! The food in the restaurant is a three course “set menu” and when we asked if we could please just buy some dessert we were told “No, you can’t.” ?!!! This is just a few examples of many I could share that would explain some of the Trip Advisor comments we’d read. So, if you go here, know this: the place is stunningly beautiful, but the service is horrendous.

The four of us enjoyed a relaxing afternoon and elected to make our own dinners that night before retiring in our converted-grain-silo dorm room. The following day, we had elected to go on the famed Amphitheater hike to the 2nd highest waterfall in the world – Tugela Falls.

Starting out on our hike to Amphitheater Escarpment

Starting out on our hike to Amphitheater Escarpment

As it turned out, the waterfall was most definitely not the main attraction of the trip. In fact the waterfall was running almost dry at this time of year, and even at full flow, the hike gets you to a vantage point at the top of the falls, so you can’t really appreciate seeing it cascading down the mountain as I’d been expecting to. In fact, I wasn’t paying attention at the moment when our guide, Adrian, was pointing out the top of the falls, so I didn’t even get a picture of it – the others pointed it out to me later during our descent when I asked “when are we gonna get to see this damn waterfall?”

Silly me.

Trying to be Superman

Trying to be Superman

The hike was really quite stunning and I can see how it is regarded as one of the best day hikes in the world. Despite it being an almost two hour drive from the lodge to the trailhead, you ascend quite a lot in terms of altitude, meaning that you start the hike in an alpine environment to start out at 2500 meters or 8,200 feet, ascending to 3100 meters or 10,000 feet at the top of the Drakensburg escarpment. The last section of the trail is a bit of a scramble up a steep grassy/rocky scree slope, but the view as you emerge is well worth the effort.

Overall it was extremely enjoyable all except for the wind which beat on us with such ferocity that it gave my lungs an additional beating alongside my cough that was already wreaking damage on me. On our return to the lodge, I was so happy that we’d elected to pay the somewhat extravagant price to get the 3 course meal – and since it included rump steak and malva pudding with ….wait for it!…HOT CUSTARD for dessert, I was well and truly in bliss.

At the top of the falls with my Baz Bus "Family"

At the top of the falls with my Baz Bus “Family”

Sadly my three friends all left me the following day, but I was luckily joined by two Germans on my day trip to the mountainous kingdom of Lesotho (pronounded Le-Su-Tu). Lesotho is its own independent country and always has been since it was granted independece from the British Crown in 1966. We wouldn’t, unfortunately, be venturing too far into the country – on a day trip from the lodge, the roads in Lesotho alone would prohibit any such journey since they are almost all unpaved in this mountainous small country that is hailed as having the highest “low point” of any country in the world.

On the "ladders" for the descent

On the “ladders” for the descent

Even so, I got a wonderful day-long glimpse into the rural culture of this magnificent place and its people. Adrian, our guide from the hike was in even rarer form on this tour and you could tell how much he loved sharing his passion for the community that we visited. In fact, what will probably stay with me the longest is the memory of his enthusiastic and loud greeting of every villager we met and his admirable attempts at the Sesotho which is the language spoken by the people of Lesotho, the Basotho. He even greeted the children with a ton of energy to which they responded, sometimes even dancing and shaking their little hips together with him and slapping his hands mid-air.

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Overlook into Lesotho

Overlook into Lesotho

The people in the village we visited just over the border from South Africa live a rural subsistence life and are very poor, in fact, most don’t even have cash and use foodstuffs, hay, livestock, and locally brewed beer in trade for most goods. They live in traditional round homes that were reminiscent of the ones I’d seen on the Wild Coast build by the Xhosa people.

Basotho wearing traditional dress

Basotho wearing traditional dress

IMG_0632The style of dress that the locals wear is extremely unique – characterized by hats worn barely atop of the head and a large blanket that is wrapped around the shoulders like a coat. Everyone we met was extremely friendly and seemed very happy that we were there to see their village. We were shown around the school (that Amphitheater Lodge helps support) and were given the chance to buy some jewellry with proceeds going towards school supplies. I bought a lovely wooden bracelet.

Adrian dancing with the local kids

Adrian dancing with the local kids

Adrian took us on a hike to view some ancient San rock art and we sat and ate lunch looking out over the stunning Lesotho mountains. A really nice custom they have in the village is that of erecting a white flag at one’s home if one has brewed beer available to sell. Not wanting to pass up on such a rich cultural experience, we visited with a family and tried the (rather putrid tasting) beer from a giant plastic bucket and took a bunch of photos. We also visited with a local shaman and learned a little about how this tiny and beautifully frail little woman was “chosen” to be a healer through a dream sent to her by her ancestors.

Drinking beer with the locals

Drinking beer with the locals

The whole experience will stay with me for some time to come and I was very moved, emotionally, by the warmth and hospitality we encountered from everyone we met. I also am very grateful to Adrian for his passion and enthusiasm for Basotho culture in this visit to the 3rd poorest country in the world.

IMG_0606And the cultural experiences didn’t end there. On our return to The Amphitheater, I was thrilled to learn that we were going to be getting some live music performed by a local Zulu musician that evening. I cannot even begin to describe the incredible rhythm this man displayed. Only a YouTube of his performance will do it justice, and I promise I will most definitely upload it to my site’s facebook page as soon as I have internet powerful enough to allow me. He literally played a guitar while simultaneously singing, using his feet as drums, and doing a traditional zulu dance which sometimes requried acrobatic feats of high leg kicks and backward rolls while continuing to play with the guitar wrapped upside down around his head.

I am not joking.

I had so enjoyed my time in South Africa and was sad to be leaving for the airport in Johanessburg the next day. This country is so complex with a lot of confounding racial issues – and that will be the topic of my next post, which I hope you will find enlightening and challenging, but not offensive.

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Last Days of Overlanding – Onward to Cape Town

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Desert, Indigenous People, Tours

Spitzkoppe

Spitzkoppe

It was hard to believe but the 56 day coast to coast overland adventure I’d embarked on in Nairobi was coming to a close.  We had three more days on the road after Swakopmund before we’d arrive in Cape Town and I’d start my independent travel in South Africa.

I can’t say I was sad that the trip was coming to an end.  While there were numerous advantages to being on a truck with a planned route, and tour operators arranged for you  in each destination; it was very challenging for me to not have the freedom that independent travel affords.  I was so looking forward to being able to go where I wanted, when I wanted, to stay for as long as I wanted, and most importantly, to spend time with whom I wanted.

Despite my extroversion, I was really looking forward to some alone time as well.

Leaving Swakopmund, our first stop was a beautiful spot in the desert called Spitzkoppe – an area of stunning red rock formations that recalled to mind similar vistas in Arizona/Utah, Australia, and Jordan’s Wadi Rum.  Our group was greeted by two very cute running meerkats who continued to follow us as we embarked on our two hour guided hike through the area.

Meerkats following us!

Meerkats following us!

Our guide took us to see some cave paintings and told us a little bit about the history of the San people, whom it is believed created the art.  He also talked about the San language and how it related to his native Tamara – which only contains five clicks as opposed to the Bush people’s seven.

We then hiked to a watering hole, though none of us had our swimsuits, which was unfortunate since it was already swelteringly hot.  It was still a very beautiful place and I thought it one of the most scenic spots we’d stopped at on the trip so far.

The following day we visited a farm in the middle of nowhere – desert all around as far as the eye could see.  We were scheduled to have an afternoon/evening desert tour with a man known locally as “Boesmann” or “Bushman”.  He is a white 4th generation Namibian who bought this dilapidated farm, and renovated it in the hopes that he would be able to make a living offering tours of the desert to tourists passing through the area.

At the watering hole in the hot sun

At the watering hole in the hot sun

The tour itself was very informative and interesting (despite the fact that I found his extremely thick accent somewhat hard to concentrate to) and we learned lots of stuff about desert survival.  A few of the tips I remember:

  • If you’re lost in the desert, never go to a tree.  There might be wild animals there.
  • If you get lost in the desert, split up into small groups.  You have a higher chance of survival apparently
  • The San didn’t drink water.  They would suck on the eyeballs of any hunted Oryx and then wring out their stomachs for liquid that would be provided to the women and children. Sounds thirst quenching.
  • You can eat lizards to stay hydrated.
  • You can never kill a beetle by standing on it in the sand.  It will just go deeper into the sand.
  • Never ever help an oryx out of a fence if he’s stuck in it.  He will gore you to death.  Better call the farmer who’s land the Oryx is on so he can shoot and eat it.

Boesmann also gave us some additional interesting information on the Bushmen.  His grandfather, apparently, had one as a pet. Yes, you read that right – people in Namibia  used to have Bushmen that they kept as pets along with their chickens and dogs.   It was legal to hunt and kill bushmen until 1920.  Isn’t that shocking?

"Bushman" giving us his tour of the desert

“Bushman” giving us his tour of the desert

He talked a little about how nomadic they were and their incredible capacities for gorging themselves on meat if they were lucky enough to make a kill.  He said they could eat 20kg of meat in one go and then they would sleep in order to digest it properly.  He also talked about the realities of their nomadic existence and how if they had gone for some days without finding food, it might have been necessary to leave behind the youngest children who might slow the group down.  It was said that it was best to simply walk away and not look back at the abandoned child, left to die alone in the hot desert.  Since they believe that one should never speak of the dead, the mother would sit by the smoky fire that evening, so that if she cried, she could attribute her tears to the smoke.

Rather heartbreaking, isn’t it?

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Heading up Soussvlei

Heading up Soussvlei

The following day was a day of fun in the hot sand of Soussvlei, Deadvlei, and Dune 46 – the largest free standing sand dune in the world.  At Soussvlei, we arrived, much to our chagrin, at 12pm – the hottest part of the day when the sun was at its strongest point.  Doing our best to stay hydrated and not get fried to a crisp, we set out on what we thought was a guided tour of the dunes, but we were simply dropped off in a jeep and given no additional information.  Not really sure what we were expected to do – we hiked up the main ridge of the dune and then had a whale of a time running back down (this is by far the most enjoyable part of climbing sand dunes)  Upon our return, we found out that we weren’t actually supposed to climb the dune because we were climbing Dune 45.  What the hell?!

Personally, I was fine with climbing both and welcomed the exercise very much indeed.

That night we enjoyed a beautiful setting for our final bush camp experience.  The setting was lakefront and the only thing that spoilt the location was the amount of trash that had been left behind by previous groups.  Since we’d gotten in before sunset, I suggested that we play the game of charades that the group had so enjoyed together at Okavango Delta.  It was a fun evening until another fight broke out within the group.  Apparently someone thought it funny to put trash in someone else’s locker.  Group dynamics had been somewhat dramatic on this journey, though I suppose that can be expected when you spend this amount of time on a truck.

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Our final day of the tour itself was initially not even going to happen when Pete discovered the following morning that the truck wouldn’t start.  Panic was soon subsided by the fact that our driver is a mechanical genius, and within an hour he’d replaced whatever vital part wasn’t functioning before and we were on our way.

Our only stop this day was the second largest canyon in the world – Fish River Canyon in the very south of Namibia.  We only had two hours there but it was enough to get a good long walk in to the various lookouts over the edge of the canyon.  I had read about the five day trek that one can do through the canyon, skirting the river along the canyon floor, but the only way to do it non-independently was with a tour operator that was charging well over a $1000 for it.  I would have loved to climb down and see how the views changed based on where you were inside its vertical walls.

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Our last night was at a lovely campsite ran by the same coach company – Felix Unite –  that was going to be transporting us in the very early morning to Cape Town.  I had cooking duties this last night, and we made Spanish omelettes, Potato wedges and guacamole.  It was delicious, and I’m finally unafraid of making omelettes!

I re-packed all of my bags, as Tabitha and Pete were kind enough to take a bag from me and transport it back with them to Nairobi where I would be re-joining them in a few weeks.  At first I wasn’t sure if I was going to do the Gorilla Loop tour that lasts 18 days, but since it was going to cost me $375 just to change my international plane tickets, and I did have the time at the moment (if not the funds) I had decided that I was going to go to Uganda and Rwanda after my nearly 3 weeks in South Africa.

At Fish River Canyon

At Fish River Canyon

This trip has really challenged me in many ways that I was not expecting.  At first, it was all too much and I very much regretted coming, and yearned to go home where things were known to me and predictable.  I missed my friends.  I missed having someone to talk to.  And I still do – travel can be a very lonely experience if you haven’t anyone to share it with.  However, I have fallen for the spirit of Africa and made a decision to stick with my original plans and take each day as it comes.  This is what will make me a stronger person – I hope.

I was so looking forward to returning to South Africa, almost 14 years after I had first visited on Semester at Sea.

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The Lost City and Paradise Found in Tayrona – Part I

08 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by Anita in Colombia, South America

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Culture, Hikes, Trekking

Hot and Sweaty in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

Hot and Sweaty in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

Cartegena had prepared me somewhat for the temperatures and humidity of Santa Marta.  But I was about to embark on a 4 day trek in the jungle where I would find a new brand of suffering from the heat, one that had bugs, mosquito repellant, sunscreen and sweat all mixed into one disgusting mass that would cascade off one’s body in uncontrollable puddles.  In addition, 4 days of gross would not end up being enough for me and I sought more punishment by actually combining what is typically two trips into one – hiking through and staying in Tayrona on my return journey from Ciudad Perdida, aka The Lost City.

The actual Lost City is a set of archaeological ruins from a city built by the Tayrona people in approximately 800 AD.  It was only discovered in the 1970’s by a team of explorers searching the hills of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in search of gold.  What has now been re-constructed is about 600 stone ‘platforms’ that formed the basis for their sacred city in the jungle.

Misty mountains in the morning

Misty mountains in the morning

There were at least 30 or so individuals starting the hike the same day I did, and it became quickly obvious that this was not going to be as easy from a physical standpoint as I had been expecting.  These were long, arduous uphill slogs, river crossings and often marching through clouds of thick dust that kicked up and coated your skin with white powder.  The vegetation was lush and beautiful and often gave way to impressive vistas of mountains covered in thick trees as far as the eye could see.

Our First Camp

Our First Camp

Along the trail, we encountered several villages of the indigenous people who still live in this valley – The Kogi.  Our guides talked us through the Kogi traditions and ways of life which were totally fascinating, albeit slightly disturbing as well.  These people still live in huts made from tree bark and all the men and women wear white dress-like garments and keep their hair long, only parted in the middle.  Sometimes it’s difficult to distinguish the males from the females except for their cultural trademarks: women wear multiple colorful beads, and the men carry a “mochilla’ – a colorful purse that contains their “gord” of power.

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Kogi people and their villages

Kogi people and their villages

Gord of power? – you may ask.  Well, the Kogi men officially become so on their 18th birthdays.  At this time, they are brought to one of the Shamens of the village to receive their gord and instruction on how to use it.  Essentially, the hollow gord is used to mix crushed coca leaves with a type of sea shell powder that they then stick a type of spoon into, then lick, and continually do this from morning till night.  The powder and coca leaves combine to form a potent drug that keeps the men alert and full of vigor.  It is essentially one of the old processes that helped form the idea for cocaine production.

Jumping into a swimming hole

Jumping into a swimming hole

Oh!  The men at 18 also get to spend a few days with the Shamens’ wife and she teaches them the art of sex.  Which I think is actually a pretty cool tradition.  However, even after couples are married (very soon after this “induction”) they do not get to sleep in the same hut.  Women and men have their own huts and sleep separately.  All “relations” occur outside in the open where they can be blessed by Mother Earth.

And I’m sure Mother Earth also blesses with mosquito bites.

Beautiful Tree

Beautiful Tree

Unfortunately for them, the women are not allowed to partake of the coca leaf mixture, nor even the coca leaves themselves.  No, they must be content to do the work of growing the coca plants and harvesting them for the men.  And, of course, having lots of babies starting at the age of 15.  I saw so many young girls with babies strapped to their backs, fronts, and toddlers running in front of them.

So, yeah, fascinating culture to have the privilege of observing during our foray into the jungle.

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The Main Mirador over the city

The Main Mirador over the city

Each day we walked between four and seven hours and generally we had the chance to stop at a swimming hole for a refreshing dip both once during the hike, and then once we got to camp.  I usually was so hot and filthy that I just jumped in still wearing all of my clothes, happily walking in them still wet for hours after.

Each camp had stacks of bunks with mosquito nets and various quality of mattress ranging from “like sleeping on concrete” to “bowed in the middle”.  It was still a higher standard than I was expecting and since it was surprisingly cool in the evening, I was able to get a decent amount of sleep.

Camp with the bunk beds in the background

Camp with the bunk beds in the background

Evenings consisted of interpretive talks, socializing with the other travelers on the trek, and reading by headlamp.  It was a relaxing time, especially after a nice dip in the cold river.

Unfortunately, the morning of our climb up 1200 stairs to the Lost City itself, I found I had come down with yet another mystery virus/stomach bug.  I was proud that I made it up those damn steps, but once I got there, had very little energy for really taking in the monuments themselves.

The walk to our third camp that afternoon was very difficult.  I was throwing up and had a high fever and couldn’t keep food down.  But I still had to walk, and the walk was not easy.  Luckily, I’d learned the mind over matter technique that worked for me when I was really sick in Peru, and I at least didn’t have to contend with altitude on top of the heat and being ill.

IMG_0705

Other scenes from the trail

Other scenes from the trail

I awoke on our last day with an appetite and feeling far more like myself again.  The walk out was long but manageable and lunch awaiting us at our jeep pick-up point was well deserved.

IMG_0572I tried again to convince some of the others to jump out of the return vehicles and come with me directly to Tayrona, but unfortunately, people said they were too tired and nobody was feeling as adventurous as I was.

Visiting Petra – Fulfilling a life’s dream

13 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by Anita in Jordan, Middle East

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites

Matt and I at the world-famous Treasury

Matt and I at the world-famous Treasury

This post was written about April 10, 2014.

I had wanted to visit Petra ever since I was a small child. I’d seen a documentary on it when I was about 7 or 8, and then, of course, I’d seen the Indiana Jones movie that was set there. Several friends of mine had visited and I’d seen their photos – this was at the very top of my must-see travel lists.

Matt and I had planned to have two full days in Petra and we’d also planned our week’s itinerary around being able to attend the famed “Night show” at The Treasury. After our dusty camel ride out of Wadi Rum, we enjoyed a very scenic two hour car journey to Petra. Checking into the Petra Palace hotel early was not a problem (they let us use our room to shower even before they’d had it cleaned!) and freshened up, we felt ready to take on the giant historical site.

The stunning Siq

The stunning Siq

Following Yoann’s suggestions (whom we’d met in Wadi Rum) we walked the full six miles all the way to the Monastery first and then back-tracked to visit what sites we wanted to, always knowing how much energy we had left to make it the full distance out of the site. After purchasing tickets and descending a pale rock gorge, one enters a tunnel-like bright red rock gorge known as “The Siq”. It was so beautiful, so narrow, with walls towering either side of you – the sight of it, plus the emotion I was feeling at the realization that I was finally here, after all these years, moved me to tears.

After about 3 kilometres, you emerge from The Siq and your eyes are immediately drawn to The Treasury – one of the most stunning ancient buildings I’ve ever seen – carved out of the red rock possibly as early as 312 BCE as the capital city of the Nabataeans. I was so immersed in the beauty of the Siq that it wasn’t until I caught Matt staring at me, waiting to see my reaction to my first glimpse of The Treasury, that I actually noticed it.

I do not have words to describe how it felt to be in it’s presence. Something like awe.

The Monastery

The Monastery

The entire city of Petra continued to defy belief as we walked the miles to the “end” of the main city to a site known as The Monastery. Stopping to enjoy a traditional Mint with Lemon after climbing over 800 steps, we sat and just soaked in the atmosphere.

Summoning a little more energy, we climbed a little higher up to a viewpoint known as the High Place, with godlike views over the peaks down to the far-distant Wadi Araba, over 1000m below.

View from "The High Place" above Wadi Araba

View from “The High Place” above Wadi Araba

Heading back as the sun was starting to go down and the crowds had already left the site, was a real treat as we felt as if we increasingly had the site to ourselves. The temperature was also a little more forgiving. We took in the Roman Collonade, imagining what it might have been like to live here in Roman times, the incredible Amphitheatre, and of course, all the numerous royal tombs.

By the time we got back to the Treasury, there were no more horse carriages taking people back up through the Siq. We were going to grab one back to the main entrance to save our legs (and Matt’s poor ankle which gives him a lot of trouble) because we knew we were going to be turning around and walking back down to the Siq in less than two hours for Petra by Night!

It was pretty special to have the Siq all to ourselves though.

We grabbed a quick dinner and got in line for the almost procession-like descent back through the Siq at nightfall. The entire route was lit with ground-based candles, making it feel almost like a religious experience.

Candles everywhere

Candles everywhere

Arriving to the Treasury, the entire land mass in front of the edifice was a sea of candles and we were all shown a row to sit in and take in the atmosphere. After a few minutes, once the several hundred people had found a comfortable place to sit or stand, a man came out and started playing a flute-like instrument.

It was hauntingly beautiful.

That is, until he had played in excess of 15 minutes. At which point, you just started wanting it to change or stop altogether. Was this it? We’d paid to come down the Treasury to listen to an hour of Flute?

Me and my Indiana Jones : We know how to have fun together

Me and my Indiana Jones : We know how to have fun together

Matt and I proceeded to giggle incessantly after pointing out to one another that this show could use some production value and choreography. I suggested a Las Vegas style show with dancers doing high kicks to Arabian music. Matt got me laughing so hard I almost snorted suggesting that if this show were being staged in the States, they’d simply cover “that old monument thing” with a giant cinema screen and project the most awesome scenes from Indian Jones and the Last Crusade, with lots of loudspeakers blaring the musical anthem to rev up the crowd. Then I suggested that they hire an Harrison Ford Look-a-like to then “appear” high above the crowd to zip-line his way over our heads for the grand finale.

It was a memorable night, not for the candles and flute playing, but for painful laughter-suppression hour I shared with my wonderful boyfriend.

Actun Tunichil Muknal: THE Cave To Visit In Belize

14 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by Anita in Belize

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Caves, Tours

Crawling through a tight squeeze in the cave

Belize is a great place exploring caves.   And I had not received enough punishment the day before when I swam instead of tubing through a set of caves the day before. I was ready for the next challenge: Actun Tunichil Muknal, dubbed The “ATM cave” about 45 minutes from San Ignacio.

My lovely tour guide actually ended up driving me to San Ignacio, so I thanked him by buying him dinner at a street side BBQ stand.  He then dropped me off at the cutest little colonial guesthouse called Hi-Et (which I thought sounded hilariously similar to Hyatt) where I rented a room for $20 BZD from a ninety year old man who instructed me to call him “Junior”.  It was the cutest little place with two corgis named Princess and Duke (mother and son) who sat next to me on the porch swing while I watched the sunset.  I felt right at home.

ATM cave was only discovered in 1989, but the archaeologist in question decided to keep it to himself until he’d had time to map the cave and assess the many Mayan artifacts contained within.

Speaking for myself, I thoroughly enjoy a caving adventure on its own merit.  I love venturing into the dark underbelly of the world, especially if its journey is through water, marveling at the formations and experiencing the genuine creepiness of it all. This particular cave had even more going for it than its flowing river, stalagmites and stalactites.

It was the location of many ancient Mayan ritual human sacrifices.  It contained many very well-preserved artifacts which included skeletons, parts of skeletons, and rather less exciting: ceramics.

I was excited.

After what was described as an hour-long hike into the deep jungle, and turned out to be a flat meander along a well-beaten path to the cave’s entrance, we arrived.

Stalactites

Annoyingly, there were several tour groups ahead of us.  Silly me: when I’d read that only two companies could take up to eight people per group, I had booked online thinking that I had better reserve my spot on the tour since I had only one day allotted to going. I didn’t realize that between the two companies , there were 18 guides allowed to take 8 people in EACH.

Ugh.

There were several groups crowded at the cave’s entrance making cheesy smiles and chanting “you won’t Belize it” for their photo, and it felt more like Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland than the jungle.  I could tell patience would be in order for the rest of the tour.

It got even more annoying when our guide explained that he would be pointing out potential hazards to us inside the cave and that as we passed them ourselves, we should repeat the warning to the person behind us so that we could all stay safe as a group.  This works in theory, however in practice, all it accomplishes is hearing “there’s a big rock to your left” shrieked 8 times when the last person in line is far behind the obstacle being warned about.

This is not to say that the entire experience was irritating.  Far from it.  I really enjoyed the cold short swims followed by the bodily contortions and squeezes that you had to make to get through the cave.  I wondered what the tour guides did to the fat tourists who couldn’t make it through the tight spots.  Did they refuse to sell them the tour?  Were they sent back to the entrance on their own?  Or made to wait in the cold water for two hours for the guide to return?

I was relieved that neither I nor anyone else on my tour was tubby enough to find out.

After an hour or so of horizontal exploration – we were told we had to climb up into the main cavern referred to as The Cathedral – where all of the artifacts lay.  It was not too difficult of a climb as long as you had shoes with grip and a fearless attitude.  Up, up, and up we climbed, sometimes using the guide as a human step-ladder, sometimes over a strategically placed metal alternative.

Inside "The Cathedral"

When we reached the main chamber, the guide launched into his long, serious, and how-many-times-must-I-hear-the-same-speech lecture about Mayan history.  Don’t guides ever stop to think that perhaps some of us had racked up a few Mayan sites and already learned the basics?  That maybe some of us would be more interested in the geological significance of the cave instead of the year Mayans first began construction on their elaborate pyramids?

However, I must say that the information presented concerning the human sacrifices was interesting.  For instance, I knew that sometimes babies of the upper classes had their skulls bound with a wooden board in the front to make it more angular, but I didn’t know that their teeth were also filed into sharp points.  It has been suggested that this was done to resemble the jaguar – an animal revered by the Maya.

The majority of remains in the cave, 14 persons in all, belonged to children as their sacrifice was considered more valuable to the gods.  It is believed that if a person belonging to the upper echelons of society were chosen for a sacrifice, it would be considered an honor for the victim and death would occur voluntarily.  Not so for the lesser in society who were brought to the cave to be sacrificed against their will.

Ceramic Artifacts

I couldn’t actually believe that tourists were allowed to walk so close to the artifacts and bones.  Even only being permitted to wear socks is not going to preserve these relics from further damage in the future.  There were even a number of skulls that we were told had been punctured by tourist’s dropping rock or their camera lenses on them.  As such, I highly doubt that tours will be allowed to continue here for much longer.

The Crystal Maiden

The final relic is a fully intact skeleton known as “The Crystal Maiden” whose bones have been calcified leaving them with a sparkling crystallized appearance.

By this point, I was ready to get out of the cave.  I was shivering, and starting to feel a little claustrophobic. At least I could count my blessings: I wasn’t brought here as a sacrifice to the gods.

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anitagotravel

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