Lalibela

Even in 1973, the name Lalibela held one of those mystical cachets that promised a wonder of the world--if you could only get there. Now I wasn't holding too high of expectations because often these places can disappoint, but what magic there is here! In a nutshell, there are three sites of churches in all. Over 1000 years old, the complex is attributed to one King Lalibela, whose jealous half-brother tried to poison him. He fell into a coma, journeyed to heaven or Jerusalem or wherever and was told by God to come back and start building. No matter what you believe, the truth is someone went to a heck of a lot of trouble in the middle of nowhere. Groupings of churches don't sound that awesome, but consider climbing up and down stairs chiseled into rock, and squat walking through pitch-black tunnels and secret passage ways to get from one section to another. One church is the largest rock-hewn church in the world; another (the one you see in the tourist brochures) was hewn from the top down--and they didn't have jackhammers back then.



I spend the day climbing and descending, stooping and twisting. And every time I enter anything, the shoes must come off with the strictness of a TSA edict. Impossibly photogenic priests stand about--doing I'm not sure what--in dark interiors, which hold a few chairs, not-so-ancient paintings of religious subjects propped against a wall, and some empty and dusty plastic water bottles on the floor.





Since I'm only a blundering ferenghi tourist, I pay for a guide to navigate me through the day. And there are the Spanish girls! We hug and kiss like old friends.

Back to Lalibela, I think what makes the place so evocative is that it's a glimpse of how Christianity must have been practised in its most ancient form. Fascinating.