The pre-dawn world and I are not the best of friends. In fact, I’m not even sure we’re on speaking terms after a lifetime of missed early-morning hikes, runs, and yoga classes. So I was more surprised than anyone to find myself outside an Ethiopian church at 5 am on a Sunday, moved to tears by one of the most remarkable experiences of my life.
The town of Lalibela is worthy of far more international attention than it gets—it deserves to top our bucket lists and grace our travel magazine covers. Yet part of its charm lies in its mystifying lack of foreign visitors. Because it is not just a niche heritage site; it is as majestic and awe-inspiring as the Machu Picchus of the world.
Its history alone is fascinating. In the 12th century, the Christian King Lalibela ordered the building of a second Jerusalem on Ethiopian soil when the original was captured in a 1187 AD raid by a Muslim faction. The result of his vision is 11 interconnected churches carved into the rose-gold mountain rocks and dug into the ground by hand—an extraordinary feat with or without the angels that, legend has it, lent a hand. These churches are perfectly preserved today, both delicate and monumental, impossible to detect at a distance but utterly majestic up close.
And unlike many of the world’s most impressive sites—Angkor Wat, say, or Notre Dame—Lalibela throbs with a living religious fervor. The handful of foreign visitors are rendered all but invisible by the thousand-strong crowd of monks and nuns, hermits and worshippers, children and grandmothers. All are wrapped in white and fervently kiss the walls and floors of the churches, and the feet of the orange-clad priests with an ecstasy last seen in New York nightclubs in the 1990s. […] CONTINUE READING
