The second half of the hike was somewhat less interesting. Mulugeta asked if we wanted to continue along the escarpment or cut across the fields. Unclear on the difference but hoping this meant more interaction with people, perhaps visiting a home (not realizing that a home visit was a separately scheduled event), we voted for cutting across. It turned out it was nothing more than flat grasslands, actually containing fewer people than before.

Later when we carefully mentioned that the previous day's walk had been more beautiful, Mulay smiled sweetly and said well...he'd asked our opinion. Of course, we hadn't known the difference between options when asked.

Getting to Wajela camp involved a brief rocky descent. I envied people who never worried about tripping but as someone who'd twisted her ankles numerous times, I walked unsteadily while staring at the ground. I still stumbled.

Wajela had 3 tukuls so I got to sleep alone

Wajela was colder than Mequat Mariam so we opted out of showering, although the fenced-in shower itself was picturesque against the moonrise. Our snack of crispy potato sticks wrapped in pieces of "Meket pizza" was so appetizing we easily polished off the heaving platter...although avoiding the injera at lunch undoubtedly increased our appetites. As we watched the sun go down, the camp manager noticed Jodie's binoculars and asked to take a look. Fascinated, he spent a good thirty minutes searching the valley, locating the nearest church, the schools, and various small mammals.
The shower at Wajela at moonrise

"Eeny meeny miney mo, catch a..."

Bundled in our warm clothes and drinking chilled beers, we huddled on a tukul's porch and chatted until a random dip into nostalgia brought up an unfortunately racist childhood rhyme of Jodie's. In horror and embarrassment, we couldn't stop laughing while Mulugeta in all seriousness insisted, "Jhodee...Jhodee...say the word again. Say the word again."

Throughout the trek we would find ourselves constantly imitating Mulay's adorable pronuciation "Jhodee. Jhodee. Jhodee."

TESFA prided itself on its "eco-toilets with a view," which were similar across camps. A tiny tukul at the cliff's edge featured a seat placed over a drop toilet and a window facing the valley on the inaccessible side where no one could peek in. The toilet collected both kinds of waste for fertilizer. As there was no flush, users put down ash to diminish the smell. The accommodating camps provided toilet paper when available, although most trekkers probably came prepared.

Not sure what's happening...looks like Jochen is dripping wax onto the spaghetti

Wajela's innovation was large water jugs with spigots for washing. At other camps, the staff patiently held a bowl of water and soap and rinsed our hands with a pitcher, but it was nice being able to handle that ourselves.

The surprisingly delicious dinner was perfectly al dente spaghetti, which turned out to be the best rendition I had in the country. Sadly, the "shoulder-dancing" Mulugeta promised us never materialized due to the "expert dancer" of Wajela being unavailable.

I dearly love community projects, especially ones as well-run as TESFA. 60% of each tourist's fee goes to the Meket Woreda communities, for camp supplies, staff salaries, and reinvestment into the camp's structures. The remainder is used in a manner voted on by the community, with one vote per household. The other 40% goes to the office support in Addis and Lalibela, and the Lalibela-based guides, who trek continuously with very little rest. Mulay's doctor even told him he was too thin to eat fasting food twice a week, with his trekking schedule.

As much as I love natural beauty or historical sights, my main focus while traveling is always the chance to interact with local people. TESFA provided exactly what I'd hoped for.

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