Simon wending his way South

Well, it had to finally happen. Yes, evil has entered Eden. I heard Bob Marley in Mekele. I thought I was in a paradise where the Red, Green & Gold had no Trustifarian conotations, merely national pride, and any Reggae I'd heard was Ethiopian. But Mekele, keen to display
its sophistication, felt it necessary to drop some Marley in the mix along with (of course) Celine Deone.

Needless to say, I moved swiftly on. Next stop was Maychew (pronounced Macho), after a startlingly beautiful journey where the Tigrain plains were left behind. Rain, greenery, wattle & daub, round tukuls & churches instead of rectangular ones, very uppy & downy geographically - it was a different world. I'm running out of hyperbole to describe the Ethiopian landscape, and I sense that it could quickly become boring to continuously remind you that this is, yes, the most beautiful country on the planet. However, the jagged ridges around Maychew, as they tumbled spastically from the huge mountain peaks and gathered in soft bowls, showed an organic chaos
like some vorticist's nightmare, and the area deserves special mention.

Perhaps most amazing of all, I went on a 4 hour walk and not one person asked me for money. In fact, some kids ran away screaming when they saw me, and another woman grabbed herself in fright. It's some indication of what rural Tigrai can be like that this came as a great relief rather than a worrying sign. And the scenary was spectacular too, like a romantic version of Scotland mixed with Pakistan. Truly magnificent.

The next day it was on to Koreme, itself rather rubbish but within walking distance of a wonderful saphire coloured lake, next to a great green alpine plateau filled with more oxen than have ever actually existed. It's like Switzerland on Steroids, especially the oxen; those fuckers are BIG. When they grunt (impossible to call it a moo) it's like turbo wookie flatulence crossed with an earthquake - the first time I heard it close quarters I started to run away before I
realised what it was. Unfortunately, this arcadia was spoiled somewhat by two giggling, stumbling teenagers who followed me for an hour and a half, occasionally chucking stones and constantly asking for money. Or my glasses. Or money & my glasses. When I asked what
possible reason there was for me to give them money when all they'd done was annoy me, they mumbled "But we've followed you for so far!"

I then descended to another hot and dusty plain; the home of the Afar. The Afar used to be greatly feared for their habits of filing their teeth down to points and lopping the testicles off any strangers who visited their territory, so it was with some trepidation that I crossed their terrain. Nowadays, however, the only real difference between them and most mainstream Ethiopians is that the men wear sarong-like skirts, like that other feared warrior race I am more intimately aware of.

Safely across, I ascended to Woldia. Everyone hates Woldia; I did too at first. A dusty, loud mess of a place, a kind of frontier atmosphere. Yet that evening, when I climbed the sheer surrounding slopes and made it above the poo line (the line which is as far up the mountain someone is willing to climb to take a shit), I realised just how superlatively it was set, all interlocking valleys and chains of imposing mountains. It started to seem a bit Deadwood - there is a real Wild West feel to a lot of Ethiopia.

It turned out that people were all so vocally idiotic because they were mostly chewing Chat. It doesn't make you an idiot, but it does make you loud and vivacious, and it also takes up all your time, so only people who don't have jobs chew it, and most of them are idiots. Hence, loud, but friendly, idiocy.

And there was another reason to like it. Being firmly back in Amhara land, they did good cake. Unfortunately I had yet to realise the impossibility of ordering two things at the same time in Ethiopia. If you order some food and a drink, they'll just bring you the drink, thinking you've cancelled the food. This led to some long, fruitless waits, and given I hadn't had good cake in weeks I was practically pleading with the guy who came over to demonstrate his (awesome)
English language skills:

"How do I order cake?"
"Eh?"
"I want cake."
"When do you want cake?"
"Now."
"Okay."
"So how do I ask for it?"
"What?"
"I asked for cake, but I'm not getting cake. How do I get cake?"
"When do you want the cake?"
"That doesn't matter, I just need to be able to say 'Can I have some
cake?' in Amharigna."
"I don't understand."
"'Cake, please'?"
"You want cake?"
"Yes!"
"When do you want the cake?"

Eventually someone else intervened, I got the cake and it was good. But for some reason I had built up cake in my mind - I'm just not that into it. And Amharas don't make good bread like the Tigrains do. If Bread & Cake fought, bread would totally win (at least they would if they were fighting in my head, which they frequently do), so the victory of being in a land of good cake seems rather Phyrric.

The odd atmosphere of Woldia rolled over into the bars in the evenings, when truckers would gather. Some of these middle-aged stout denim wearers would dance themselves into a frenzy, one guy galloping on the spot whilst jerking his shoulders spasmodically and gazing at himself longingly in a mirrored pillar. With his buddies thrusting body parts in a circle behind him, the whole scene resembled some kind of Dads' Secret Gay Away Day.

I stayed an extra day, and went for a relaxing smoke up one of the sides of the mountains. As I set off, some friendly youths spotted me and told me it wasn't a good path:

"Why not?"
[A pause, some conferring] "There are bad dogs & Hyenas!"

This being the usual excuse when they want you to come with them to their house for a 'coffee ceremony' or whatever I told them I had no worries on this regard, and set off. The path narrowed to a tight gorge, and then I realised what I'd stumbled into. First some shit,
then more, then a big pile of crap. I should have turned back when I realised I was in the local toilet valley, but I kept thinking it couldn't go much further, and I couldn't face what I'd narrowly
avoided stepping in so far, surely, dear God, It Must End Soon! Eventually it did end, I got, once more, safely above the poo line, relaxed, and thigns didn't seem too bad. I was left with a healthy fear of bad dogs & Hyenas, though.

In a way it was good though, as it set me up for Lalibella. Everyone who visits Ethiopia visits Lalibella. Indeed, it is perhaps one of the most incredible places on the planet, like visiting Petra and finding out that it was still in use. However, the locals don't really like the idea of using indoor toilets. NGOs have built all kinds of public toilets, there's big signs up saying "Please poo in the toilet and not just wherever you fancy.", but it's taking a while for the message to get through. I was wandering down through a cemetary which had an amazing view from it, when I saw someone beside a grave and decided to give them a respectful distance. Then I noticed they were SHITTING ON THAT PERSON'S GRAVE. Surely in ALL cultures that's a bit of a faux pas. That's not just my Western sensibilities. I think if a Maori/Pygmy/Amazonian Indian came and found someone crapping on grandma they'd be a bit upset, and I'd be inclined to back them up on that.

Whenever you're not walking on the road (mercifully pretty shite free) the odor of feces is never far from your nose, and you have to watch your feet more than the astounding views. Hopefully the rainy season should wash it away before I next have to return.

Perhaps not entirely unconnected to the above is the abundance of flies. Mostly Ethiopia isn't bad with insects but in Lalibella the flys are getting their revenge. It can be pretty disconcerting when you're chatting to a local and OH GOD IT'S CRAWLING ON YOUR FUCKING EYEBALL! Never have I been so glad for my glasses.

I am, however, concerned that I have used up my ration of capitalisation for this e-mail on the bad things about Lalibella and therefore have none left for the good. Suffice to say they have
carved vast Cathedrals out of the pink rock, not by going in, but by going down. So you're walking up to what looks like a trench in the ground and gaze down at a huge, cross shaped buiding they've dug into the ground, immaculately sculpted. You follow the twisting trenches
round, through tunnels and across bridges, whilst priests nap in doorways and people come for blessings on their way back from market. On Sunday, at too early o'clock, you can hear the trumpets blowing from within and priestly chanting. It's beautiful, ancient, and alive.

Apparently it took 40,000 people to dig them out - I'm sure this is a highly accurate number. Coming across the desolate plains to this hilltop site you wonder how it could ever have supported that many people, especially 9 centuries ago when apparently a lot of the work
was done.

But you do see the mass appeal of religion even now, when I was visiting a monastery nearby and came across a funeral. Hundreds of white toga'd people trickled down the mountain steps, whilst great
groups of them sat round under umbrellas, and some colourful horse-riders bore the Ethiopian flag. I'm guessing it must have been some village headman who died for so many to turn out. People were pleased to welcome me, and scattered some holy water on me as well - result.

And amazingly, I received almost zero hassle in Lalibella. Everyone was friendly but no-one tried to scam me or guide me. The kids were calm, with only occasional hellos! It would seem that greater exposure to Faranjis makes Ethiopians more tolerant.

Still, I finally moved on, knowing well that when anyone came out to visit we'd inevitably be back - this is somewhere that no-one should miss in their lives.

I had to get the 5 o'clock bus, something I'd been avoiding by taking short hops. Unfortunately, the day I picked to leave was market day and all the buses were crowded out the windows. There's a law that no-one's allowed to stand on Ethiopian buses but it only applies on those routes which have police checks, naturally. Generally the buses aren't too bad for short amounts of time, bedecked as they are like 70s boudoirs, all tassles, beige swirls & paisely, but with the
obligatory Jesus posters (or occasionally cute babies). However, I raidcally misjudged this journey, as it took 11 hours on an unsurfaced road. For the last 9 hours of this the person behind me was a Protestant Jesus freak, who kept passing me notes saying 'God loves you', and telling me every 5 or 10 minutes to relax. After about 3 hours this started to get me quite tense.

For some reason its the Protestants in Ethiopia who are well mental - perhaps because they've got so few like minded people to talk to. One guy grabbed me and wouldn't let go whilst he raved things like "God of servants, happiness of apples - understand?" The guy on this journey was chewing Chat, and eventually I had to pretend through his 'social phase' until he hit the 'dreamy phase'. Even then, he'd lean forward every quarter of an hour:

"Judah, Judah [he decided I looked like Judah from the Bible], you
need to relax."

Still, I did finally reach Bahir Dar and can, indeed, relax. It's on the shores of a lake and is like the capital of a tiny caribbean island, all stout palm trees and balmy, tropical goodness. It's
almost a shock to meet rural Ethiopians wandering around barefoot with their togas and sticks. The internet is relatively fast and cheap (though I found to my chagrin that the big sign for Broadband Internet was only the name of the decidedly dial-up Cafe), there's a great market and a well stocked public library. And a cinema! I watched Slumdog Millionaire yesterday and it was very surreal to walk out of the film and onto the streets of Bahir Dar. I might even come back and live here if Addis isn't up to it.

Having said that, I met a guy who lives in Addis in Lalibella and he's put me on an e-mail list for all the young people who live there - I've already had some offers for beers when I arrive. It's all
looking good. I'm just working out whether to sail round the lake first or head down, but I should be there in a week or two at the most.

All very exciting.

But I must leave you now. Please, please, please keep sending me your updates, no matter how prosaic you may consider them to be. I do so love reading them.

Ciao for now,

Simon