I've found myself involuntarily whistling the Indiana Jones theme tune the last couple days. Not just because I'm in the town that supposedly houses the Ark of the Covenant, but also because so much of the exploration involves descending stone staircases into dark tombs, where all it would take is a few snakes, some Nazis (Till and Wilma are sadly too nice to fit the part), and a bullwhip to live out all my childhood fantasies.
Aksum is the most ancient of Ethiopia's capitals, and had its heyday from the 1st to the 7th centuries AD. A 3rd century Persian writer listed the Aksumite civilization alongside Persia, China, and Rome as one of the world's four great civilizations of his time (he obviously had no knowledge of the Americas). Sadly, far less remains of Aksum's glories than the other three, but it's also intriguing to be surrounded by half-excavated sites--and presumably many more that remain to be discovered--where piecing together Aksumite history is very much a contemporary archaeological project.
The most obvious evidence of Aksum's former glory is its stelae field, featuring dozens of obelisks dating from some indeterminate time in the past up until the early 4th century when King Ezana converted Ethiopia to Christianity and traded phallic symbols in for crosses, although not before leaving behind a 23m-tall stele himself. The tallest stele--at 33m, it's taller than anything erected by the Egyptians, and is indeed one of the most massive single pieces of worked stone that's ever been put upright in human history--is now a collapsed heap on the ground, but impressive even in its supine aspect. The stele field also features a couple of those tombs that had me whistling along with John Williams.
As for the Ark itself, that's supposedly stored within the Cathedral of Tsion Maryam complex, and is naturally so sacred and special that none but the highest appointed priests are allowed to enter the building where it's stored. I didn't even get into the Cathedral complex. First of all because everyone was off on their three-hour midday siesta when I dropped by, and second of all because the entrance fee has more than tripled since my guidebook was written four years ago, and $12 is a bit steep even by Western standards. Especially when the central church is a tacky 1960's structure (one downside to being the holiest church in Ethiopian Christianity is that it's also a prime target for the enemies of Ethiopian Christianity, like the 11th century Jewish Queen Yodit and the 16th century Muslim warlord Ahmed Gragn) and there are far more spectacular churches all over Ethiopia that charge far less.
(In case you're wondering, the story behind the Ark being in Aksum is roughly this: the legendary Queen of Sheba was an ancient Ethiopian queen who conceived a child with King Solomon. This son, who became King Menelik I, visited his father in Jerusalem as a young man, and secretly carried the Ark off to Ethiopia after being instructed to do so in a dream by God--and Solomon also had a dream in which he was told that this was okay--and it's remained in Ethiopia ever since. Take that, Spielberg. Naturally, every part of this story is highly suspect, but that doesn't keep Aksum from having an air of holy mystery.)
After a lazy morning yesterday, I explored the Stelae Field and adjacent museum with Jase in the afternoon, as well as a few other minor sites around town. Jase has a limited-time-only visa for Sudan that becomes active in a week so he had to dash off this morning to catch Lalibela before heading to the Sudanese border, so I gave him a semi-conscious farewell at 5:30 this morning before properly getting up an hour later to get an early start on a hike outside of town with Till and Wilma. Just outside of town, we took in the Tomb of the 6th century Emperor Kaleb, which even sported a few bats to add to the Indiana Jones feel, and gave further evidence of how the deciphering of Aksumite history is very much a work in progress, as a nearby tomb was in a state of semi-excavation, which apparently wasn't in itself reason for us not to clamber down into the bits that had already been dug up. After that, we had a very pleasant hour or two of strolling through the hills north of Aksum, passing by the monasteries of Debre Liqanos and Pantaleon, both manned by rather avaricious priests, so we decided to be thankful for the walk and the views and save our money for the churches we plan to see in the next couple days.
Besides, the walk was the real purpose of the outing. Tigrai is much drier than Amhara to its south--the notorious 1985 famine hit Tigrai the worst, although that has as much to do with Mengistu trying to punish the Tigraians for their resistance to his dictatorship as it has to do with Tigrai's arid climate--and the rolling hills were studded with magnificent succulents (euphorbia? My favourite biologist once explained to me the difference between cacti and their old world equivalents, but I forget the distinction) and a view all the way up to the closed-off Eritrean border to the north.
Sunday in Aksum has had a general party atmosphere. Michael (Egan) would be excited to know that there was a big cycling race in town--I didn't catch the name or the significance, but apparently it was 80km in circuits around the town--and when we set off on our morning walk, spandex-clad women were racing around town, and when we got back the men were in full swing. As luck would have it, a stroll through town had me at the finish line just as the winner squeezed through in a near-photo finish (which wasn't actually a photo finish since I could see that he was ahead by the length of a bicycle). The streets were lined with cheering spectators, and the afternoon was punctuated by victory parades for various winners. This being a Sunday, there have also been a few wedding parades, which here seem to involve the bride and groom on open carriage-like seats mounted above the rear of a white luxury automobile.
To tell the truth, the stelae of Aksum have been less impressive than the sights of Gonder and Lake Tana near Bahir Dar, but that has a lot to do with their great antiquity: they leave more to the imagination. And that said, Aksum itself is a far more pleasant town than Gonder or Bahir Dar, with a very friendly vibe. I'd stay longer but Till and Wilma have other plans for me. The next items on my itinerary are the rock-hewn churches and a couple other things in northeastern Tigrai, all of which are quite hard to get to. I was planning to spend five or even six days working my way around Tigrai, doing my best with public transport and the like, but it turns out Till and Wilma managed to get quite a reasonable deal (especially if you add a third punter) on a two-day chauffered trip around most of the sights I was going to see anyway. The only dilemma this leaves me with is what to do with the time I save. It could either leave me a few rest days to just chill out a bit (I might head back to Lake Tana en route to Addis Ababa) or I could try to push things and get to see Arba Minch in the south as well. I'm just not sure whether I'll have quite enough time to take in Arba Minch, and I might have a little too much time for chilling out. But we'll see. For the moment, I can be glad that the next couple of days are going to allow me to kill far more birds with far fewer stones than I'd anticipated.
Aksum is the most ancient of Ethiopia's capitals, and had its heyday from the 1st to the 7th centuries AD. A 3rd century Persian writer listed the Aksumite civilization alongside Persia, China, and Rome as one of the world's four great civilizations of his time (he obviously had no knowledge of the Americas). Sadly, far less remains of Aksum's glories than the other three, but it's also intriguing to be surrounded by half-excavated sites--and presumably many more that remain to be discovered--where piecing together Aksumite history is very much a contemporary archaeological project.
The most obvious evidence of Aksum's former glory is its stelae field, featuring dozens of obelisks dating from some indeterminate time in the past up until the early 4th century when King Ezana converted Ethiopia to Christianity and traded phallic symbols in for crosses, although not before leaving behind a 23m-tall stele himself. The tallest stele--at 33m, it's taller than anything erected by the Egyptians, and is indeed one of the most massive single pieces of worked stone that's ever been put upright in human history--is now a collapsed heap on the ground, but impressive even in its supine aspect. The stele field also features a couple of those tombs that had me whistling along with John Williams.
As for the Ark itself, that's supposedly stored within the Cathedral of Tsion Maryam complex, and is naturally so sacred and special that none but the highest appointed priests are allowed to enter the building where it's stored. I didn't even get into the Cathedral complex. First of all because everyone was off on their three-hour midday siesta when I dropped by, and second of all because the entrance fee has more than tripled since my guidebook was written four years ago, and $12 is a bit steep even by Western standards. Especially when the central church is a tacky 1960's structure (one downside to being the holiest church in Ethiopian Christianity is that it's also a prime target for the enemies of Ethiopian Christianity, like the 11th century Jewish Queen Yodit and the 16th century Muslim warlord Ahmed Gragn) and there are far more spectacular churches all over Ethiopia that charge far less.
(In case you're wondering, the story behind the Ark being in Aksum is roughly this: the legendary Queen of Sheba was an ancient Ethiopian queen who conceived a child with King Solomon. This son, who became King Menelik I, visited his father in Jerusalem as a young man, and secretly carried the Ark off to Ethiopia after being instructed to do so in a dream by God--and Solomon also had a dream in which he was told that this was okay--and it's remained in Ethiopia ever since. Take that, Spielberg. Naturally, every part of this story is highly suspect, but that doesn't keep Aksum from having an air of holy mystery.)
After a lazy morning yesterday, I explored the Stelae Field and adjacent museum with Jase in the afternoon, as well as a few other minor sites around town. Jase has a limited-time-only visa for Sudan that becomes active in a week so he had to dash off this morning to catch Lalibela before heading to the Sudanese border, so I gave him a semi-conscious farewell at 5:30 this morning before properly getting up an hour later to get an early start on a hike outside of town with Till and Wilma. Just outside of town, we took in the Tomb of the 6th century Emperor Kaleb, which even sported a few bats to add to the Indiana Jones feel, and gave further evidence of how the deciphering of Aksumite history is very much a work in progress, as a nearby tomb was in a state of semi-excavation, which apparently wasn't in itself reason for us not to clamber down into the bits that had already been dug up. After that, we had a very pleasant hour or two of strolling through the hills north of Aksum, passing by the monasteries of Debre Liqanos and Pantaleon, both manned by rather avaricious priests, so we decided to be thankful for the walk and the views and save our money for the churches we plan to see in the next couple days.
Besides, the walk was the real purpose of the outing. Tigrai is much drier than Amhara to its south--the notorious 1985 famine hit Tigrai the worst, although that has as much to do with Mengistu trying to punish the Tigraians for their resistance to his dictatorship as it has to do with Tigrai's arid climate--and the rolling hills were studded with magnificent succulents (euphorbia? My favourite biologist once explained to me the difference between cacti and their old world equivalents, but I forget the distinction) and a view all the way up to the closed-off Eritrean border to the north.
Sunday in Aksum has had a general party atmosphere. Michael (Egan) would be excited to know that there was a big cycling race in town--I didn't catch the name or the significance, but apparently it was 80km in circuits around the town--and when we set off on our morning walk, spandex-clad women were racing around town, and when we got back the men were in full swing. As luck would have it, a stroll through town had me at the finish line just as the winner squeezed through in a near-photo finish (which wasn't actually a photo finish since I could see that he was ahead by the length of a bicycle). The streets were lined with cheering spectators, and the afternoon was punctuated by victory parades for various winners. This being a Sunday, there have also been a few wedding parades, which here seem to involve the bride and groom on open carriage-like seats mounted above the rear of a white luxury automobile.
To tell the truth, the stelae of Aksum have been less impressive than the sights of Gonder and Lake Tana near Bahir Dar, but that has a lot to do with their great antiquity: they leave more to the imagination. And that said, Aksum itself is a far more pleasant town than Gonder or Bahir Dar, with a very friendly vibe. I'd stay longer but Till and Wilma have other plans for me. The next items on my itinerary are the rock-hewn churches and a couple other things in northeastern Tigrai, all of which are quite hard to get to. I was planning to spend five or even six days working my way around Tigrai, doing my best with public transport and the like, but it turns out Till and Wilma managed to get quite a reasonable deal (especially if you add a third punter) on a two-day chauffered trip around most of the sights I was going to see anyway. The only dilemma this leaves me with is what to do with the time I save. It could either leave me a few rest days to just chill out a bit (I might head back to Lake Tana en route to Addis Ababa) or I could try to push things and get to see Arba Minch in the south as well. I'm just not sure whether I'll have quite enough time to take in Arba Minch, and I might have a little too much time for chilling out. But we'll see. For the moment, I can be glad that the next couple of days are going to allow me to kill far more birds with far fewer stones than I'd anticipated.
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