Fishermen, upgraded from the tankwa boats.

Viv takes the wheel for a minute.

The views from the motorboat yielded trees lining the shore and the occasional fisherman floating gently past in papyrus tankwa boats, but mostly just the endless blue waters of Lake Tana. The trip to the central monasteries, which sounded overpriced yesterday afternoon, was far further and more fuel-consuming than I'd realized. I melted into my sun-warmed seat, zoning out on the horizon.

Due to the early start and the deafening motor, none of us were feeling particularly social. English sisters Viv and Zoe were the only ones chatting, while Khun from Holland pored over his Bradt Ethiopia guide. The unnamed, silent Japanese girl had been dozing most of the trip. I wouldn't have minded a chat with the boat's driver, but his English was weak and I felt self-conscious; after the joys of constant community contact on the TESFA trek, I was getting the feeling that here, tourists endeavored to maintain distance from locals.

See? It's just around the corner.

Narga Selassie monastery.

Three lazy hours later we arrived at Dek Island, where a skinny man sporting a homemade toga welcomed us to the only monastery on the island that allowed women to enter. Two other monks waited at the 300-year-old Narga Selassie—one wearing a park ranger shirt under his toga, a pad of receipts at the ready.

We paid our entrance fee of 30 birr, and discovered that the promised "English-speaking guide" only applied to the second monastery we would visit; for this one we were on our own. Without clear understanding of the elaborate paintings painstakingly restored during Haile Selassie's rule, the main highlight of the monastery was the solitude.

Not many tourists are willing to fork over 300 birr for a day trip. Especially considering the price was purported in guidebooks to be 1000 birr per boat, and we had 5 passengers. We had the grounds to ourselves for at least 20 minutes before another pair of tourists showed up. In the meantime, the monks posed happily for photos. The one who'd originally welcomed us was the friendliest, smiling through the language barrier.

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