A NYTimes travel piece takes you there, noting that some relative political calm has made travel more possible:

The most revered Aksumite kings were Kaleb and his son Gabremeskal (literally, Slave of the Cross), who spread Christianity from the royal court through the villages of Ethiopia in the sixth century. My guide, Sisay, who was incongruously clad in a bright red jacket and tie, black slacks and shiny black shoes — his official guide’s uniform — led me on foot up a rutted road to the ruins of Kaleb’s palace, at first glance an unimpressive pile of rubble.

Then we descended a stone staircase into a network of subterranean burial chambers, constructed of huge, finely chiseled blocks of granite, that fit together as neatly as the blocks of a Rubik’s cube.

Entering the musty vault, where the monarchs were originally buried, Sisay illuminated the passageways with a thin candle. Fifteen-hundred-year-old carvings of elephants and distinctive Aksumite crosses — formed by four delicately shaped, not-quite-touching petals — were still clearly visible on the granite walls.

Wandering through the ancient burial chamber had evidently moved Sisay deeply. With his eyes closed, swaying back and forth, candlelight flickering against his face, Sisay chanted the Lord’s Prayer in Geez.

After the hymn, we stepped back in the bright sunlight.

“Can you feel this place’s holiness?” he said. “Ethiopian Christianity was born here.”