I just returned from a trip to the northern part of Ethiopia – a place called Lalibela, which in Amharic means the one who eats honey.  This place is famous for the 11 churches that King Lalibela (who apparently was born with many bees around his mouth, hence his name) had 10,000 people carve out of a single rock.  This rock is some basalt rock that has this gorgeous reddish tint.  UNESCO has recognized this place as a pretty special place, so now the town thrives on tourism (there is actually an association of tour guides).

The town center is filled with souvenir shops and hotels.  I managed to stay in this beautiful hotel called “Mountain View Hotel” aptly named as you seen in this picture.  The view from the balcony was just breathtaking – so much green everywhere with a small winding road disappearing behind the hills.  I could not believe what I saw was real – it’s that feeling you get when you see a beautiful landscape on the National Geographic channel.  Is this real?  Maybe it’s unfortunate that this town has been overrun by tourists.  But after staying at this ritzy hotel – with the walls made of windows and a rooftop terrace, where you could stargaze all night – it was hard to complain about the whole industry and the development.

Even more fantastic was the drive to and from the airport.  Away from the bustling, westernized scenery of the city, Lalibela’s peaceful countryside lifestyle was refreshing and a new wonder to admire.  Donkeys, sheep, goats, and oxen overran the streets.  Children ran next to our van, bare feet and without pants, waving and saying “Hello!  How are you?”  From the mud-thatched houses with roofs made from tightly woven hay rose thin wisps of smoke probably from the cooking coals or the incense burning at coffee ceremonies.

When we first arrived, the churches had closed, so we visited the local market.  Children walked along, and I practiced my Amharic with them – telling them patiently, no I’m not Chinese, I am Korean, I study in America, yes I am happy to meet you too.  This one man allowed me to take a picture of him (the locals do not like having their pictures taken) knitting a beautiful hat.  Even without shoes and a toothless smile, he seemed so content, deftly working away with his fingers.  I was struck again the pride and contentment people have for this simple way of life.

Later, we visited the famous churches.  I want to let the pictures do the talking for me, because the wonders and magnificence of the churches is just impossible to put into words.  All of the 11 churches were built around 12th century, during the rule of the four kings, one of whom was Lalibela – the chief architect of the churches.  He ordered 10,000 men to excavate these churches from one stone using a small chisel – the great technology during this time.  One church – my favorite – was the church of St. Mary, where King Lalibela used to pray (it was his favorite too, apparently).  As you see here, the inside was decorated with so many murals and pictures that we were not allowed to take pictures with flash.

The next morning, I saw a beautiful sunrise.  The kind you can’t capture in a photo.  The sun shone brightly over the mountains onto the little village nestled between the valleys.  And once again I felt this feeling of being so fortunate – grateful for this opportunity to experience something so incredible but somehow guilty as an observer who will leave with her expensive camera on an expensive airplane back to her beautiful hotel room.  Is it okay to sympathize for someone who is in a worse situation than you are when they themselves are living happily in their own lifestyles?  This man who was so proud of his green hat, his work of art, keeps me wondering about this question.

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