Tucked Away

Stepping off the tourist trail can be something of a gamble. The well-tread path is beaten for a reason, and with it comes ease of finding an affordable guesthouse, ease of transportation, a tendency toward having English menus, speaking English in general, and having Western amenities. Along with all our well-touristed stops in Nepal, we decided to make a pitstop. 

Tansen, or Palpa as it is locally known, is situated some six hours away from Pokhara. That’s six hours of sardined in a public bus snaking down Nepal’s Siddhartha Highway, a mountain road barely wide enough for the numerous buses to pass without their mirrors kissing.

The town itself is practically carved into the mountainside. Lanes and alleys stacked on one another, buildings tiered. Woven in between shops and restaurants, numerous shrines and temples tucked away. Mother goats sleep in the shade, their offspring prancing around them.

And somehow, this small town, in some ways so sleepy and quiet, managed to be the loudest small town we’ve encountered. Buses, motorbikes, and cars honked their way along, announcing the fact of forward movement. Tractors hauled empty trailers that banged and hammered their presence along the narrow streets. It was quite a feat, to have such a tiny place rival the noise of a big city.

Getting away from that can sometimes reveal a country’s hidden gems. Other times, it is simply guidebooks trying to create something from nothing. Tansen fell somewhere in the middle of those two.

Lalibela: Carved from Stone

 

Situated high in Ethiopia’s arid mountains, a two-day drive from the city of Addis Ababa, lies the tiny town of Lalibela. Home to Ethiopia’s kings during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, this rural town of winding stone-paved streets holds some of the country’s most awe-inspiring, pilgrimage-worthy churches.

What makes these eleven churches so noteworthy is that they are carved directly into the mountainside. The rock-cut churches of Lalibela represent a variety of architectural styles and proudly display the nation’s deeply engrained religious history.

Arranged in two clusters, the churches are linked by chiseled channels and tunnels, some of which require walking for relatively long distances in pitch dark (especially if you were silly enough to ignore the guidebook’s suggestion to bring a flashlight).

Though the churches are named after King Lalibela based on his claim to have built them all, many scholars believe that the churches, or at least some of them, may have actually been built earlier. Legend says that King Lalibela was exiled to Jerusalem by his brother, after which he vowed to build a new holy city on his return. According to local myth, the construction was done during the day by residents and aided at night by the help of angels.

Regardless of the doubtful holy help, the churches of Lalibela are incredible, a massive testament to dedication and hard work at human hands.

Ciudad de los Gatos

Panama City is a vibrant clash of old and new. Towering skyscrapers, stretching out to sea on filled-in land, glass reflecting back the blue of the midday sky; while in the slums and old sections, building facades crumble and decay, dilapidated history. Everywhere construction clogs and clangs, the revamping of a prospering metropolis.

Casco Viejo, a small oceanfront quarter, was once the entirety of Panama City. Now practically falling down, the old city contains hollowed-out shells of former buildings, empty windows staring blindly on narrow streets, weeds overgrowing windows. Bordering on being a slum, its roots in history.

And everywhere, mixed in among the rubble, stalking pigeons, relaxing in the parks and churches, were cats. As we walked about the old city, taking in the history and seeking shelter from the daily rains, more cats. Outnumbering stray dogs, Casco Viejo’s cats were more numerous than we had previously encountered.

As a cat lover, I find this to be a good sign for things to come in Panama. Just as the presence of a handful of boutique hotels and restaurants in Casco Viejo speaks to a bright (expensive) future for the historic area, so too the presence of cats speaks well for our future, however short, in Panama. If the cats are sticking around, the Panamanians must be doing something right. 

So Long and Thanks for All the Arepas

For our final Colombian destination, we chose Cartagena. After two months of calling Colombia home, a much shorter time than anticipated due to some very unexpected changes in our plans, we were down to our last couple of days.

Cartagena oozes old world colonial charm. Buildings, facades crumbling and faded, repainted in vibrant hues, wind along narrow streets throughout the old quarter of town, a UNESCO World Heritage gem. The walled old city, surrounded by the coralstone protection of once-great fortress walls, maintains an air of Spanish colonialism infused with a taste of the Caribbean.

We roamed the city, took in the sights and the history. We indulged in our final Colombian arepas, corn-flour pancakes essential in the local diet, piled high with cheese and eggs. We sipped on juice made from local fruits. 

Church-studded, flavored with diverse history, Cartagena makes for a beautiful place to laze about, stroll around, and generally take in bit by bit. Scorching heat, high humidity, and a perplexing lack of water (of our three days in Cartagena, we only had water for a day), and heavy afternoon showers drove us into the hostel’s shady patio for much of the time.

Maybe not ideal by most postcard holiday standards (I certainly could have used another shower or two), but Cartagena served as a lovely sendoff in its own right, a beautiful goodbye to Colombia. And it gave us a bit of calm before our Central American whirlwind tour