Chapter 13

The next day we tried to remove that unpleasant experience from our heads, brushed ourselves off and continued on our tour.  In the summer the river plain can become quite hot and steamy, a morning mist over the river burning off early in the morning.  At this point the river puts our own Lianka to shame in terms of its sheer breadth, if not in charming beauty.  Bridges are simply not practicable and so a ferry is needed to cross.

Following our itinerary we realized after a brief perusal of our precious map that at some point it would be necessary to cross the river in order to see the great sights of Peirout.  Without knowing the possibilities of ferries further up the river we decided to see about crossing the river from the rather ramshackle wooden pier at the riverside.  Miriam expressed some trepidation about trusting ourselves to the locals but she is a tough old bird, determined to experience life.  Still, we made sure to go out of our way to avoid the part of town that we had unfortunately visited the night before.

At the pier we discovered that there was no official ferry but also that the local fisherman would be willing to ferry us cross the river for a fee.  We had unfortunately arrived too late for most of the fishermen, but a handsome lad was willing to row us across for a fee of six Dakra, a number reached after some haggling.

 Dear reader, if you plan to travel I must recommend that you force yourself to learn to haggle.  While our custom is that it is a slight to the honesty of a craftsman to think that he might not be setting out the lowest price he is willing to take for the item, this is decidedly not the custom everywhere else I have visited.  After a while this activity can be quite enjoyable, rather like playing a game of cards, or telling a good story and will usually save the astonishing figure of half what you would pay by simply accepting the first price offered. To be brief, I believe that the back and forth between the quality of the boat, the prospects of other fishermen returning and the omnipresent starving grandmother, had an excellent result in that I found the cost quite cheap and yet the sparkle in the eyes of the youth upon payment led me to belief he was similarly satisfied.

My pleasure in the cost was deepened by the extraordinary effort it required to cross.  While the youth's gaze was somewhat uncomfortably fixed upon Miriam, he amiably explained that the width of the river and its strong flow meant that to cross required one to point the prow a full mile upstream from the intended destination.

Upon arrival the youth wished us much luck, climbed out of the boat and immediately entered a very disheveled establishment that I believed to be a tavern.  There we were standing alone upon a dock in a strange town.  This is the essence of travel, the slight frisson of fear, and the excitement of curiosity. We took a deep breath and walked forward into the town.

Blessings, in the main, lives up to its charming name.  Apparently Blessings had been a confluence of trading routes for centuries and therefore developed a greater wealth than he surrounding towns.  The effects of this were obvious, with the buildings built of stout wood, or river stone.  Some of the architecture was quite striking, with stone carved beasts staring out from the eaves of roofs.  As I have mentioned before, a traveler's first priority upon arriving in a new place must be accommodation. We quickly found a clean inn that suited our needs very well.  While more expensive than our recent experiences, it was also cleaner and more comfortable.  Sometimes one needs to rest in comfort to restore one's energy and curiosity.

While Blessings is a pretty place, arranged in little squares and shaded by a type of fruit tree known as a "mango", what you must see is the shrine to He Who From Whom Our Blessings Come.  Shortly after He descended from the mountains he walked through this town, named Asheba at the time, and transformed it.  The story goes that Asheba was a town twisted in hatred, divided by powerful clans whose symbols are the creatures that still remain on the eaves.  He Who From Whom Our Blessings Come simply came to this spot, sat down and put out his begging bowl.  The Presence of His Peace spread throughout the town and foes quickly became friends and hatred became kindness.  The town was renamed Blessings in memory, and as a symbol of the new harmony all the clans donated money towards the shrine so that they could all remember the peace and their responsibility to maintain it.

It is indeed a charming story to which I do little justice here, and the truth of it seems incontrovertible when strolling along under the gentle shade of the mango trees.  Almost by accident we came out into Shrine Square.  One's first reaction is to the majesty of the enormous mango tree that towers over the buildings.  Then one notices that beneath this magnificent tree are statues carved from white marble.  They depict He Who From Whom Our Blessings Come smiling and talking to local people while charmingly a small child is carefully placing a flower in His begging bowl.  The whole scene is distinct in its informality, the genius of the piece being the everyday realism of the figures, lifelike in size and manner, yet carved out of beautiful, gleaming marble.  I will never forget the joy of actually walking among those listening to He Who From Whom Our Blessings Come as He set out on his mission.

Oh to see His Blessing in such a beautiful way means that to me, seeing Blessings was indeed a blessing.