Black flies rain from the sky as we wander through ancient alleyways lost in the sixteenth century; goats, chickens, thatch huts, brick towers and mud houses clutter together before the cemetery. The smoke from embers under cooking pots creates a sharp and filthy smell that turns all of the iron utensils sitting on the dirt black.







And my guide, expensive and business-like, led me to the first church. There, in a pit, straight in the ground, was a mid-sized stone church, finely carved and a shock to see sitting in the earth. Inside the church was a priest and some paintings. All made of rock; carved as one hollow piece. The priest posed with his costume and cross; and for a small donation I took his picture.





The other churches were equally impressive, sometimes; these man-made caves and the religion that lives in them is special. And even more special is the Lallibella people who still use the churches – not as a front for tourists but because it is a part of their belief. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that they will become a premiere tourist destination soon, which could corrupt these people even further. I am unsure as to how this town will react to becoming a major tourist destination, and all of Ethiopia for that matter.







Mesfin convinced me to take him and two donkeys to a monastery near town; why I agreed to either still eludes me. Suddenly the price for his services had doubled, and I was paying for his donkey as well as mine, along with the tips for the men holding the reins of the donkey, as well as the teenager who arranged for the donkeys. Got all that? Each one of them got a handout from me. And, I think this was where I made my final decision to avoid tourist spots as much as possible from now on.

On our way to the monastery we came through a village square, where several dozen men were lying on the ground against the walls of buildings, doing little but staring at me. The stupid tourist on the donkey. My guide didn't seem to fazed, but it bugged me to no end that I had suddenly been shoved into the role of the hapless tourist right during one of Ethiopia's most difficult times. After going through a field of tilled dirt, we came to the monastery; carved into the face of a cliff, it was fascinating and impressive I suppose – but not as impressive as the churches.





Inside the monastery were some very good artifacts: old musical instruments, old crosses, and an old bible written in Guz, or however it is spelled, the written language that is the precursor to Amharic, and the bible is eight hundred years old. Locked in a room, which is more of a cave, were some old paintings. Beautiful old ancient artifacts, kept very well intact because of Ethiopia's dry conditions.





On the way back from the monastery the men in the square were listening to their names being called out; I do not know what they were doing. Then it was back up the newly paved asphalt road to the town; if there is one positive about Lallibella's tourist draw, it is that the town has certainly benefitted from the money that has come into the town. The new road, the new tin rooves, the phone line that stretches into the town centre from beyond the mountain peaks, and of course the soccer field and school, at least a tourist can rest easy knowing that the money is helping this town – as much as it is hindering it, as tourism inherently does to a society in many ways.

There was also a large crowd gathered along the road, as well as a string of people hanging down a cliff, hauling up a body. Apprently a man had killed himself last night. Carrying the covered body up from the side of the reveen, a lone trumpeter blared a single note while old women chanted in their crackling voices. Weeping townsfolk followed, slowly, up the hill. In the most rustic of places, under sweltering heat of day, a lone man was given the most basic of funerals. The crowd drifted from the road into a hut, perhaps the person's former residence. Mesfin had no qualms about overtaking the procession and heading back to town; business is business. This guy seems to be an asshole.

The guide invited himself to take me to Dessie; I was okay with this, if he wanted to come, then he could come. But suddenly I had paid for his way to get to Dessie, and I was not too happy about this. Still, if there is one thing I've learned from travelling it's that getting angry gets you nowwhere, and This guide's help may turn out to be useful.

Lallibella may turn out to be the most expensive part of my trip. I bought souvenirs, paid for an overpriced guide, paid for a useless mule ride, paid the exhorbitant entrance fees. And the entire experience has been the least rewarding so far of this journey. Let that be a lesson to you when you plan your trips from guidebooks. Luckily I decided not to do that for this trip.

Tourist spots are a bane for me. The real Ethiopia can be seen in the countryside, beautiful and primeval towns in the magnificent mountains. This is why I will not visit Gondar or Axum, because they will be nothing compared to the real Ethiopia – and they will be expensive. So to Addis Ababa I go, and then to the east, where there are real difficulties about.



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