Ethiopian Market

One thing I feel like I haven't done enough of while traveling is visiting local markets. I always tell myself that I'm not going to buy anything so it doesn't make any sense to visit, but by skipping outdoor markets I've missed out on some great people-watching opportunites. Yesterday I was trying to think of something I could do in Lalibela that would contrast with the visits to all the churches. I noticed a market on the map of Lalibela in my Lonely Planet book and I decided that wandering through it would be a perfect way to spend an hour or two.

I've never been to an African market before today, but somehow this one had a different feel than the markets I've been to in other developing countries. The market seemed to be a gathering place as much as it was a place to sell goods. Plenty of people were there to buy incense, wheat, chilis, salt, and ginger, among other things, but there were also hoards of young kids wandering around who I doubt were there for any other reason except to hang around with their friends.I had a pretty good photo-shooting-spree today. After taking one or two pictures of some kids in the market and showing them their photos on the screen of my digital camera, everyone became fascinated and crowded around to get their photos taken. I took picture after picture, mostly of younger boys and girls, but I got a few of adult men and women as well. One great thing about photographing people in developing countries is that many of them still dress in traditional outfits. In the United States and in Europe it can be difficult to find a good subject for a photo because everyone dresses the same. On top of that, for whatever reason it feels a lot more awkward asking for someone's picture in a well-off country than it does in less developed parts of the world.An Ethiopian kid named Thomas followed me around for several hours today. At first I was a little irritated and hoped that he'd wander off, but he actually ended up being really helpful. He walked with me through the market and told me about several of the things that were being sold, then he took me to a trail that led to a monastery high on a mountain overlooking Lalibela. I realized that I would need Thomas's help to find the monastery and suddenly it was a lot easier to be polite to him. I was even glad that he had latched onto me.For nearly two hours Thomas and I climbed the steep, rocky trail to Ashetan Maryam monastery. Near the top of the trail the terrain leveled out and we passed through a small Ethiopian village. A few small, round, mud huts with straw roofs sat on the plateau and housed the inhabitants of the village. Two or three farmers were plowing their fields and used teams of cows to drive crude, wooden instruments through the soil. Further up the trail I noticed that Lalibela had become a tiny cluster of roofs thousands of feet below, and we finally reached the monastery.I didn't have very many items on my agenda today, but there was one thing that I absolutely needed to accomplish. I wanted a good picture of an Ethiopian Orthodox priest. Fortunately there was one in the monastery who was more than happy to pose for a few photos. The priest showed me three intricate Ethiopian crosses, each of which was hundreds of years old. He also showed me ancient Ethiopian artwork depicting the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and a few of Christ's diciples.The visit to the monastery was great, except that I was disappointed that the priest tried to sell me his Orthodox antiquities. For nine-hundred US dollars he offered me any one of the eight-hundred year old crosses. I also had the option of purchasing an Amharic Bible that is over three centuries old. It's a shame that such important cultural artifacts are being hawked to tourists. Any one of the items he offered me would be an incredible exhibit in a museum. Instead they could end up in the home of a random Westerner who happens to pass through Ethiopia and they'd be lost forever.

Foosball is a huge fad among teenage boys in Lalibela right now. As I was passing by a crowd gathered around a table on my way back to the Heaven Guesthouse one of them called out to me and invited me to join the game. I was sure that the kids were all experts and that I'd get completely destroyed, but I went ahead and played anyway. I was actually pretty proud of my performance. For about three months during my mission I played foosball on p-days with one of the local members in Houston, and the few tricks that I learned years ago came back and created problems for the Ethiopian kids. I held my own and scored a few goals, but after a few minutes one of the boys spoke up and said that the game was over and he had won. I like to think that he made that up.After another much needed nap this afternoon I ventured outside my hotel room to drop by the few remaining churches that I hadn't yet visited. The single church that I was the most excited to visit was Bet Amanuel, one of the most finely carved churches in Lalibela. After wandering through a few dark stone tunnels and making more wrong turns than right ones, I finally arrived in the deep crevass that surrounds the structure. Bet Amanuel is massive, and the facade is so well carved that it looks more like something that was molded of concrete than fashioned out of stone. I walked slowly around the perimiter of the building admiring the carving, then went to the entrance to spend a few minutes inside. Unfortunately I was about thirty seconds too late and the Ethiopian caretaker of the place was locking it up for the day. I spent a few minutes trying to convince him to let me in, but to no avail.

“Can I take a quick look inside please?”, I asked.
“Closed now. Come tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I'm going to Gondar, can I take just a couple of minutes?”
The man pointed at his watch. “I go to me house. Come tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I fly to Gondar.” I made an airplane motion with my hand, complete with sound effects. “Can I take just two minutes?”
The man pointed at his watch. “I go to me house.”