Starting at the Source

After a few days in Addis Ababa I was ready to get rolling, and I took a bus north to Bahir Dar. This small city sits on the shores of Lake Tana, Ethiopia's largest body of water and the source of the Blue Nile. From here the water flows southwards before snaking west and then north again to join the White Nile on its journey to Egypt. As if to salute the geographical significance of the place, the islands of the lake have become a home to the yellow robed monks of the Ethiopian Orthodox church. According to legend, for a time Dek Island hosted the Ark of the Covenant itself before it was transferred to Axum.

My first memory from Lake Tana is of a warm, balmy atmosphere with a gentle breeze, broken only now and then by the odd lazy mosquito. A small boy ferried me and a handful of other travellers between the little churches and monastic settlements, gingerly experimenting with his English along the way. As we disembarked on the first island, the trees sighed and held up their branches helpfully just as the sun was growing a bit strong. Down a short muddy track flanked by green thickets, a distinctly Ethiopian church revealed itself in the middle of a clearing - circular and fairly unobtrusive in form. Inside, proudly displayed were the holy books and icons curated by the monks.

For another day trip I visited the Blue Nile Falls near the village of Tis Abai, "great smoke". I came during the dry season, and as such I sadly didn't get to see the falls live up to their name. Nevertheless, the whole setting was very picturesque. As much as for the water feature itself, the trip was interesting for the alien landscape of pastel blues, greens and browns, and the glimpse into rural life. I strolled around the outskirts, tailed shyly by a growing party of local children. I suppose Tis Abai has been a simple rural community from the beginning, and seemed to still be coming to terms with the attention of foreign tourists. When I visited, there were no other foreigners to be seen.

The guide who helped me reach the islands and Tis Abai was a young guy in his mid twenties like myself. I think a majority of the foreign tourists he'd worked with would have been older than me, and he was eager to make friends. He invited me along to the Balageru Culture Club the following evening - apparently the best place to see live Ethiopian music in Bahir Dar. This turned out to be one of my best experiences in the country.

The set up was a bit like a traditional pub music session at home in Ireland. The performers are in the centre of the room, with the audience seated around them. Supporting the main ensemble there is a drummer and someone bowing a single-stringed instrument, as well as singing. Leading the show, there's a whole procession of front men and front women, blending the roles of singer, dancer, story teller and comedian. As for the dancing, besides clapping and head bobbing, Ethiopians like to get their whole upper body involved. On your feet and shuffling to the beat, when the crowd's attention shifts to you, you lean back a little and rattle your shoulders like maraccas. I was the only foreigner there but there was no exception made for me, and I was dragged up in spite of my cultural and physical stiffness. The crowd whooped and cheered as I joined in, like some kind of duck trying to fit in with the hummingbirds. I hope I won't ever forget the woman who grabbed a hold of me with an intense but friendly look, and gave me a one-word order: "RELEASE!" I've been trying to follow her advice ever since.

In sections of the performance the tempo slows up, and one of the singers will become conversational, and start to tease someone in the crowd. If that person is bold, they might fire a volley back. My friend translated a little – in one of these exchanges the performer singled out a young guy who seemed to be trying to leave, and apologised profusely for the lack of eligible women in the bar. That might have been ribbing the women who were in fact present for not being "eligible" enough, or roasting the guy for his shyness. When my turn came shortly after, Western chivalry was held up as the craftiest strategy of them all, and someone got in a quip about “ladies first” that had the whole room roaring laughing and slapping their sides.

After the show had finished, my friend suggested moving on to a night club, and I figured why not. It had a simple but comfortable interior, with low lighting and only a few patrons sitting around or leaning on the fixtures, almost as if they were part of the furniture. After we'd got settled by the bar with a beer, I began to notice an odd tension, and some kind of disparity in the clientele. A few girls hovered around with their arms folded, intermittently throwing us glances. I remembered a warning in my guide book, advising that outside of the capital women don't hang around bars at night by themselves except for a very specific reason. I turned to my companion and tried to ask indirectly if that was what was going on. He smiled mildly, not understanding me, and so I asked him directly if the women were prostitutes. He didn't blink. After looking around the room coolly he estimated that maybe six out of the seven or eight women in the room were indeed there for business and not for fun. I suppose I was very naive, but I was shocked by how mundane it seemed to him, a simple matter of fact. We finished our beers and I went back to my room with a pair of permanently raised eyebrows.

The Gist: Bahir Dahir (2012)

• TRAVEL WARNING: Civil war struck Ethiopia beginning in 2018. Irish government travel advice can be found here.

• ARRIVED: I took a local bus from Addis Ababa, booked in person at the station.

• SLEPT: I found cheap accommodation on arrival, without booking ahead.

• DID: I met a guide at the bus stop and found it easiest to organise day trips through him. These were the island monasteries of Lake Tana, the Blue Nile Falls at Tis Abai and the Belageru Culture Club. For good free information I suggest Wikitravel.

• LEFT: I took a local bus to Gondar, booked in person at the station.