tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48872634744179104042024-02-07T05:46:55.777-08:00The Road To DamascusDescribing My Time In The Middle EastJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-36438794354139617722011-04-29T05:36:00.000-07:002014-01-10T00:34:04.443-08:00Times in Syria...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Syria has been on the news quite a lot recently, sadly for the wrong reasons. I thought I would update you all, if you didn’t know by now, on the situation and also on my situation. You will all be relieved to know that I have left Damascus and come to Beirut in neighbouring Lebanon. Though this was a hard decision, to leave my friends, Arabic course and internship, I felt it was the correct one, considering the FCO advise and my family worrying. However I want to tell you all a bit about the situation in Syria, that the news in not reporting. Even coming to Beirut I can begin to see how it can look extremely bad in Syria at the moment in the international media.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I left from Damascus on Wednesday to come to Beirut. Even then everything was fine in Damascus. Shops were open as usual and there were people walking around the streets as normal. It was maybe a bit quieter than usual in the old city but on the whole it was business as usual. The previous Friday though was a bit strange. There was a tense mood in the air, no traffic on the road and neighbourhood groups protecting their neighbourhood with sticks, batons and guns in the old city. All were extremely friendly towards me and other foreigners it had to be said. However, from the news and friends in Syria I do realise that in Douma (the outskirts of Damascus) is having a tough time, with the army patrolling the streets, shootings occurring, and shops being closed. The same seems to be occurring in Dera’a (a village an hour south of Damascus), Homs (a city 2 hours north of Damascus), Banias (a costal city 5 hours from Damascus) and Latakia (A coastal city also around 5 hours from Damascus). In Damascus itself there was little evidence to the foreign eye of the unrest seen in the country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">At the moment the situation is not improving, events now have been going on for so long, and so many people have been killed that the situation cannot return to normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">During my last days in Syria, I shopped, sat in courtyard restaurants (getting my last fixes of Damascuscine life and saying goodbye to friends. I hope to be back soon if the FCO advice lowers. In the meantime I will be applying for jobs everywhere and anywhere. I should be coming home back to the UK in a week or so. Enjoy the royal wedding and I hope to see you all soon! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-90050368845247241892011-03-20T02:14:00.000-07:002011-03-20T02:20:34.553-07:00When in Palmyra...<div align="justify">So two weekends ago I decided to leave Damascus again and explore more Syria. This weekend it was again the turn of Palmyra, the ruinous Roman City next to an Oasis in the heart of Syria. I have been there twice before on two separate trips but only had time, or been well enough, to see a small part of the ruins. However this time I was determined to spend as much time as I could there and have a proper explore of the site. I travelled up by bus to Palmyra with three friends and checked into a great little hotel with super friendly staff when I arrived on Thursday night. After unpacking, it was out to sample the nightlife of Palmyra in the pancake house, a great restaurant on the main street that doesn’t just do Pancakes. In it we had a traditional dinner of rice, chicken, lentil soup, humous and bread and after dinner met a friend who is from Palmyra in the café. We chatted for some time, as he has just come out of military service, about what he was going to do now. After the café became empty we all moved to a nearby hotel bar (the only place you can drink really at night in Palmyra) and chatted some more there. It seems that at night there is little to do for locals, apart from stare at the foreigners in the town. They did in two ways, the first cowardly way was by motorbike, riding past staring and maybe shouting something, and the second way by more heroically standing and hanging around on the street corners staring and maybe saying something. However, once inside the restaurants and cafes you receive a very friendly welcome, like you are a long lost relative! </div><div align="justify"><br />On a side note, it is funny how the phrase “Luvly Jubly” managed to travel around the world as I have heard it a number of times as a response when people find out I am from England. I like to think there was in the past, a cockney somewhere who was having a bit of joke, saying it was official for something and because of that it got transported around the world. After waking up at 7 we took breakfast on the rooftop with early morning views of the ruins just temping us to go in and explore. Following this, we set off and began walking into the huge area that the ruins of Palmyra occupied. We started at the bottom of the colonnaded street and walked up it exploring, stopping to take pictures and climbing on the extensive remains. It was magical, especially in the early morning light, our only company seemed to be the occasional camel herder asking us if we wanted a ride. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">When we reached the end of the street we climbed up to a tomb/temple of Zenobia to look round. At the back of this temple was a small tower, which we climbed up and were treated with great views of Palmyra. It was a bit scary with the top only being about 3 by 3 meters with no railings! We then walked out of the city through the still impressive city walls and we found ourselves in the Valley of the Dead, an area where a large number of mausoleums have been built for previous Roman dignitaries and other notables. As we got closer to the hill they have been built around, it became apparent how monumental they were. They were probably a good 20metres high if not more and after walking round the back of one, my friend and I climbed up to a doorway 2 metres off the ground just to have a look. A grill covered the doorway presumably to stop people getting inside, but a friend and myself were thin enough to squeeze through the gap in between the metal bars and get inside. So we spent 15 minutes looking in several different floors of the tower feeling a bit like we were the first to set foot inside the tomb. It was quite spooky inside with the darkness and silence but eventually after climbing up and up the stairs we came out on top of the tower. From there we had panoramic views of the valley of the dead and the city of Palmyra around. It was incredible. After we came down we scaled up the small hill behind the towers to be treated with the same kind of view as on the top of the tower but we could see more mountains and hills in the distance as well as more of the oasis that surrounds Palmyra,<br /></div><div align="justify">Then it was back to the ruins to meet our Palmyrian friend for lunch. While we were waiting a few scarf and necklace sellers came up to us to ask for our custom. We replyed to them one after another “La Shukran (No Thankyou)”. This was until one replied angrily “I don’t speak Arabic!!” in English. We thought that was a bit strange considering he was living in Syria, and the Arabic speaking Middle East but we moved on. However half an hour later he spotted us again, obviously did not recognise us and said “Scarf, you want to buy a scarf”? “La Shukran” was our response and again he responding with “I don’t speak Arabic” slightly more angrily! So we responded to him “Well we don’t speak English, no thankyou” in Arabic to which he looked surprised, but seemingly understood us and walked away! After visiting the ruins we went and had a late lunch and early dinner in an oil camp. The company was Polish and was moving out of Palmyra in 3 weeks so the camp was very empty but it was interesting non the less. We had been invited by them when we met them the previous night in the hotel bar, we arrived in a taxi in the middle of nowhere to a camp made of porta cabins surrounded by a wire fence. After driving through the gate without any check on whom we were we came upon a table full of food surrounded by plastic chairs in the middle of the camp. The two polish guys who had invited us were smoking atop one of the cabins and invited us to join them to look at the view. It was quite amazing with the mountains around. Then after eating, chatting for sometime and watching the sunset, it was a quick taxi ride back to the hotel to get our bags and the last bus to Damascus. At least this rushing around was giving us a taste of the busyness of Damascus that we were heading back too.</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-64956425461476335352011-02-24T04:10:00.000-08:002011-02-24T04:16:28.313-08:00Du Ski in Lebanon??<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> <o:pixelsperinch>72</o:PixelsPerInch> <o:targetscreensize>1024x768</o:TargetScreenSize> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">Well I have been here nearly 2 months since arriving in January. I am still working away at the UN but am making use of the numerous cafes and courtyard restaurants found in Damascus. Despite this and exploring the city and its sights some more, I felt I needed to get out of Damascus for a weekend. So with this in mind my housemate, another friend and I decided to travel to Lebanon as it is close by and easy to get to. Recent events have calmed down in the country and also more importantly there had been a fresh dumping of snow in the mountains. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">I therefore decided to travel to the mountains to visit the mystical Faraya Mzaar Ski resort, reputedly the best ski resort in Lebanon. We left during a cold crisp evening from Damascus and headed across the border into the night. We had made sure that the private car (a normal thing in Syria) knew exactly where Faraya mzaar was. He was sure and there would be no problem he said. However once across the border near the town of Baalbek in the Beka Valley our taxi driver stopped telling us another taxi will take us all the way.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">However he still wanted paid for his journey, and he wanted to be paid a lot, far more than the journey’s worth. Its always a great moment in learning a language when you can argue coherently with a taxi driver. So this is what we did with him and his 7 friends, for an hour! The main thrust of the argument was that he wanted paid in full to where he had taken us (not even half way). However we argued he had lied to us and not taken us where we wanted to go so therefore we would only pay him for the journey he had done. He did not like this and used many excuses to try and persuade us to pay him.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">They ranged from “how was I meant to know where Faraya is?” to “Faraya, I do not know this place, what did you say? Faraaya, oh I know where that is!” and then the classic “they told me they wanted to go to Baalbeck”! After rebuffing his arguments, he timidly asked for money because he “had a family to think about”. That would be plausible if we had not just crossed the border in his private car that was a brand new Mercedes Benz. After paying him the right amount for the journey, we left and arrived in Faraya at 11. Our hotel was like something out of The Shining film, completely empty, décor from the 1970s and 1980s and run by two ghostly but extremely friendly and helpful old men. They had been running the place for 40years and despite being a little confused by life they were friendly and even made us pizza to eat. We got our rented gear and headed to bed.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">In the morning we all thought there had been a mistake, we had been given 1970s and 1980s ski gear! I was sporting a fluorescent green all in one while my housemate had a grass green one and the final friend I traveled with had a black and white patterned number! All of us had fluorescent orange and green skis. Oh well, least it is warm to wear! Arriving on the slopes we were greeted with a lovely view of white rolling hills and a pleasant 11 degrees centigrade. After teaching my friends to ski in the morning, I began to explore the mountain properly. I took a lift up to the top and from there I could see the Mediterranean sea stretching out in front of me, blue and in the sun, and Beirut on the coast looking peaceful and calm. Behind me was a moonscape of rolling white hills as far as the eye could see. The skiing was not bad, with a lots of enjoyable red runs and a bit of challenging yet fun off piste runs. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">After a tiring day we explored the nightlife of Faraya, or as it turned out lack of it! We wandered up to the only restaurant in town and had mezzeh (lots of small Dishes) in effectively a conservatory in someones garden (the food was cooked inside the house). Then we wandered along the main road to one of two bars, we chose the second one because it was the busy one with four people inside! Sat next to a lovely warm fire and made it feel a bit like Europe and chatted the night away.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">The next day it was skiing in the morning then a service taxi down into Beirut. We shared a taxi with a curious American who amongst other things asked us “is Syria full of Terrorists, Do you need to carry guns with you in Syria and do the border guards open your passport at the border?”! Arrived in Beirut and had a whistle stop tour around the centre of the city, the parliament building, Rafik Harari’s grave (the assassinated prime minister of Lebanon in 2006) and the blue mosque. We then met my friend who is working in Beirut for a late lunch in a lovely French restaurant on a street called Gemeyzie, where all the good restaurants are in Beirut. Then it was a taxi ride back to Damascus with a man who set Diamonds in jewelry as a job and was sharing the taxi with us. A normal weekend in the Middle East!</span></p>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-76383676888749952722011-02-10T02:03:00.000-08:002011-02-10T02:16:35.420-08:00Recent Developments<div align="justify">As you may know by now there has been 'interesting' developments in the Middle East, concerning a 'Wave of Change'. I thought i would update everyone how this is affecting me in Syria or should I say not. After the Tunisian and Eygption Protests there were calls by some to have a "day of rage" in Syria last weekend. However this turned out to be nothing more than a "day of rain" with no-one turning up on the streets. The difference in Syria's case was that the demonstrations were organised by people outside of Syria, Syrians living abroad and even non Syrians living abroad. So due to this lack of on the ground leadership it is quite understandable why the protests did not get off the ground. On the day itself there was an increased presence of secret and not no secret police but sadly for them they stood about in the rain all day getting cold. One positive change that has occured in the recent week is the end of blocking Facebook and YouTube by Syrian Authorities signalling an interesting move by the government, which has blocked these sites since 2007, possibly in reaction to the events in Eygpt, that called for greater freedom of the internet. Despite this opening of the internet, Syrian media agencies were slow to acknowledge the events happening in Eygpt as for at least 3 days. For example on SANA (Syrian Arab News Agency) the top news for those days were that "Rain Falls on Most Syrian Cities" where other arabic media's (Al Jazeera, Al Arabyia, Ya Libnan etc) had Eygptian News on their front pages. Outside of these events I have had a suit and jacket taylored made here for about $200, its getting very cold, and I have started to be known as a local, with a Taxi driver asking me for directions, which I could give in arabic, and getting to be known by name in my local cafe. All in all very nice.</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-46416372776130835612011-01-26T00:50:00.000-08:002011-01-26T00:51:56.401-08:00Oh those Middle Eastern Nights..<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;">Well I’m Back in Syria interning at the UN, mainly writing reports and working on presentations. In the evenings I am managing to learn a little Arabic as well as become an English teacher to break even with rent. After spending 10 days home at Christmas, I returned to Beirut and the Middle East life. I managed to remember where my friend lived in Beirut and got myself there late at night. It was great travelling through the empty streets occasionally lined with army checkpoints, reminding me that Lebanon is at a tense situation at the moment. Beirut is an interesting place; it has the people of the Middle East yet the feel and perception of a western place such as Singapore, Kula Lumpa, or a mixture of both. High rise glass buildings, with clean roads and new shop fronts make it feel like Europe, but every now and then you see bombed out buildings, or catch a glimpse of the heavily shelled Holiday Inn, reminding you of the terrible events that occurred here. After arriving at my friend’s house, I went out of Gemeyzie, an area of lovely bars and restaurants for a drink in a bar that felt as though I was in a trendy part of Paris. Interestingly in Lebanon, Arabic in some areas in the third language spoken after French and English so it was strange to be listening to lots of French voices around me. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />The next day I hired a taxi to take me over to Damascus, once the driver realised I had been before he drastically brought the price down to the correct price. So for about £12 I had a 3 hour taxi ride into another country! My driver Ahmad was chatty and with my broken Arabic chatted about his family, what I was doing and where he was from. After climbing the steep mountain road over the anit Lebanon Mountains we dropped into the Bekka Valley. It was as stunning as before Christmas, snow covering the tops of the mountains with the wide fertile valley below basked in sunlight. Here they grow wine, and before Christmas, a few friends and I visited the Kasara vineyard. In the lovely surroundings, we toured the small visitors centre and the caves behind which stored the wine. It was apparently begun by the Romans but may have had prehistoric origins. After passing the turn off for this I was stamped out of Lebanon and we drove up another mountain road to the Syrian Border. Here I acquired a visa easily with two New Zealand guys and heading into Damascus by lunchtime. Two hours later I had a house to stay in, and friends to go out and eat with. Nice!</span></div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-15042852629274731002010-12-24T03:35:00.000-08:002010-12-30T03:35:54.714-08:00This is the end?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7tiM3cQK3zDx-JBF0e7_fSd8IKQNjQ6kTumP9qUhXZixjHU4_-EEb_sCOzXWRdiGrCP0yCrn7bOLlqvomggpK7Qa6kXQlDaDpTEpSHoPU93-dKxT-oZ7p1KbsaPzYre69icy2CtqNYUyS/s1600/Bus.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7tiM3cQK3zDx-JBF0e7_fSd8IKQNjQ6kTumP9qUhXZixjHU4_-EEb_sCOzXWRdiGrCP0yCrn7bOLlqvomggpK7Qa6kXQlDaDpTEpSHoPU93-dKxT-oZ7p1KbsaPzYre69icy2CtqNYUyS/s320/Bus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556437401245621554" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have arrived back home now for Christmas after an amazing three months in Syria and for 5 days in Lebanon. I thought I should update you all on what I am now doing. Before I left I did some work experience with the UN and have managed to get some kind of unpaid internship there after Christmas. So I am only in the UK for 2 weeks before I head back to Syria to begin this on the 2nd of January. I will keep this blog updated when I can and when I do something exciting, because most of the time I will be working in an office and that is hardly anything to write home about! I will also continue to learn Arabic and I have started to teach English to break even for rent and food, just incase I was slacking! So really this is just the beginning! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-26447009042597165752010-12-24T03:13:00.000-08:002010-12-30T03:30:49.623-08:00A Spiritual Retreat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYGPHgyzF0NoMtoYsYAsbC8aRlx2IPZzC-TOxbQtvWQ1ot_7p-nOaJQnbI19Tw5IpoE-EWhcbbNpIlmh4STtOdl9loGOQPAT0SmCYY0DpUf6C5i7kNQHBQaaGXa92qaf-kOIBi2ocAssm/s1600/MAr.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYGPHgyzF0NoMtoYsYAsbC8aRlx2IPZzC-TOxbQtvWQ1ot_7p-nOaJQnbI19Tw5IpoE-EWhcbbNpIlmh4STtOdl9loGOQPAT0SmCYY0DpUf6C5i7kNQHBQaaGXa92qaf-kOIBi2ocAssm/s320/MAr.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556436259446868786" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">After the excitement of Palmyra I decided to take my brother and his girlfriend to Marmusa, an isolated fortress that had in about the 6th century been converted into a small church and monastery. Its turbulent history meant that it had fallen into disrepair and fluctuated in being a working monastery from time to time. However in the 1980s an Italian monk came to Marmusa and though his own will alone helped renovate and repair the dilapidated building. Now it is a working monastery promoting cross religious dialogue and welcomes visitors from all faiths and backgrounds. You can stay for a day or stay for as long as you want for free as long as you help out in some way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So it was under this introduction that my brother, his girlfriend and I started at the bottom of the path that lead (after 20 minutes) to the monastery after being dropped off at the side of the road by a local service van. Nestled in-between two hillsides the sand coloured building blended into the hillside as we started the walk up the meandering stone path. After getting to the top we entered the very very very small doorway (About 1 metre by 1 metre) and entered into to the small courtyard atop the fortress. Here we were greeted by one of the monks (in jeans and a t-shirt!) and took a seat before tea was brought to reward us for our effort. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">From our viewpoint we could see the desert plains stretching off in the distance and more mountains helping to give a canvas for the sunlight to paint. After exploring the small peaceful church complete with original frescos my brother and I went to the extensive yet maze like library to explore. Split on three levels its a great space to explore though narrow corridors and doorways then into large book filled rooms. After having lunch there of lentils, onions and peppers we sadly had to leave, so a service taxi was called by radio for us from the nearest town. We descended the long path with the imposing fortress looking down at us us leaving and boarded the bus as it was becoming dark. A great day away from it all.</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-84439559154954605832010-12-24T02:53:00.000-08:002010-12-30T03:26:54.704-08:00Oh no! There is two of them!<img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw0aac0v127osDHYRrOZbkj9ntIEK7VBGMUJPFicM9ssnP5dyuQCUG9FzYOPj02h3NMAGywVsZp0E6XWVWLtldwTF9bDMVT-7X37Df1X8uCxpZnjamUczel92Q7ZQbsvByo4-4-al79G2/s320/UMAY.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556434982089048594" /><div style="text-align: justify;">Its been busy in the last month of my time in Syria. Graduating from University, hiring private tutors, getting work experience at the UN and my twin brother and his girlfriend heading out to visit! They came at the helpful time of 3 o'clock in the morning so 2 syrian friends and I picked them up from the airport by car. When they came through the arrivals gates my friends and I managed to convince my brothers girlfriend that she needed to cover her head on leaving the airport as "Syria is a Muslim country you know". So she duly covered her head and walked out under the chortles of the security personnel. After about 10 metres or so we couldn't keep it up so we told her it was a joke and in fact Syria is on paper a secular country! Welcome to Syria!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day we spent time wandering the streets around my house and showing them the market and general sights of the old city including Azam palace, a lovely ottoman relic surrounded by the busy markets that Damascus is famous for. Inside is a lovely courtyard surrounded rooms of various functions each filled with different manikins, including two in a very dodgy position, one hitler lookalike and one remarkable manikin that looks like John Lennon in Middle Eastern clothing. We also wandered around the Ummayid mosque, the Shi'a mosque (decorated impressively with tiny mirrors) and the jewish quarter. In the evening we prepared for the next 2 days in the desert.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We left in the afternoon on a 1960s Scania bus, the kind of busses you think of in India or Pakistan, to the desert. Inside was cramped, hot and uncomfortable but it was great! We were traveling with about 20 other people. Soon as we got out of the city the music came blaring on and all my Syrian friends got up and danced all the way to Palmyra, getting us involved too and stopping off at one Baghdad cafe for refreshments, on the crossroads with of the same name. Traveling through the desert again was great the landscape of the desert is awe-inspiring, rocky outcrops, Bedouin tents and sandy plains make it easy to see why T.E Lawrence fell in love with the Middle East.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFj4tFDxHgO7REUiunIBkxofi57JV1Y483S_1_64E2CWCwfB8dnCI-regUQT62FOiLe62sP1DHsv2fkdeYa3uNihTs1UzXSPK-y3fCDJUykGKSiYoAKNDfeLFs18wd-kugjCZfQXcQzuZ/s320/Tent.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556434988912573650" /><div style="text-align: justify;">After arriving at Palmyra we turned left and then stopped at the side of the road in the dark. We then sat for 10 minutes before lights came out of the darkness to meet us. A pickup truck then took us slowly into the desert, this was proper Bedouin life! After about 20 minutes we arrived at our destination and headed up a small slope to our tents that were under the gaze of a huge rocky outcrop! Beautiful. After eating a traditional meal of rice, nuts, chicken and peppers we spent the night dancing Dapkai, the traditional Syrian dance, a bit like circular line-dancing!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Palmyra and camels dominated the next day followed by a long journey back to civilisation and the welcome rest of Damascus.</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-12054965250131150432010-11-09T13:25:00.000-08:002010-12-30T03:22:01.800-08:00"Coffee should be......<i> black as hell, strong as an ox, and sweet as love"</i><div><i><br /></i><div><i><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdejhCTCy8YKMibUACrtM7hsE4than1eY-JIePc944f-N551gLsrzmub6kAsUaSiHIARqXC4nmUXBuH_JoICuzZ2FORgkTQc6OqbXAMygvbSKLa10-c_Ymyqs4A5eqGgn5GyW7jloD2qA/s320/Mal.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556433889368319410" /></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of my recent day trips has been to Malula, a village north of Damascus where it is said St Paul first converted on his way to Antioch. Malula is now a Christian pilgrimage site. However several places make this claim in the mountains around Syria! Taking a small mini van (called a service) from Damascus it took an hour to reach the hills north of the city. A very striking landscape, with rolling hills interspersed with large rocky outcrops - it made for a dramatic journey. I was traveling with my housemates, a Norwegian, and a Syrian friend whose family come from Malula.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After jumping off the bus in the main roundabout of the town we found ourselves in the middle of a bowl of rocky outcrops, each decorated with crosses and Christian motifs. Very different from Damascus. After wandering through the narrow streets and through tunnels where houses were above, below and to the sides of us, we arrived at our friend's grandparents' house and had the first of many coffees. Interestingly Malula is one of the few places in Syria where people still speak Aramaic and my friend's grandma spoke <i>only</i> Aramaic. It was great to hear as it had a rhythm a bit like Irish! After having coffee and trying to remember our university Arabic we went on through the narrow streets and up to see a cousin of our guide. It seemed everyone knew him. Then after tasting Malula wine (sweet like communion wine) we wandered up to one of several religious buildings in Malula, a convent. The story goes that the saint of the convent, after converting to Christianity escaped her father to Malula. Her father sent soldiers after her and she managed to evade capture when God opened a rock so that she could hide. The place where this is said to have happened is now a shrine where people come for healing and prayer. It was a lovely little shrine with a tree and a cave - lovely to get out of the heat of the day. The sign outside in English read, "Please enjoy your visit but your smoking harms us."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We then wandered up a gorge and round the back of one of the outcrops of Malula which gave great views of the plateau around the town. It was here that some of<i> The Lord of the Rings</i> was filmed apparently. After looking at the view from a hotel that was being renovated we went to one of the oldest churches in Syria, dating from the 5th century. Inside it was small square space with four arches holding up the roof. Everything was very simple and plain, but sadly tour group after tour group ruined the atmosphere, a pattern in Syria! After taking this in we had more coffee with our friend's other grandparents, this time conversation in arabic and then headed back to Damascus in another mini van for yet more coffee. </div></div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-40987968675505135552010-11-06T09:51:00.000-07:002010-12-30T03:16:07.991-08:00Deserts and Camels<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggsnUXV5vv73INQ1uPaKC2vEophV9P_eZrq6c0UdGhroLAdOULYQ8KMlwyWiQPiHM549YAWyZhjEsoZTGrTAJAiRxX8_G5TGtR2-y2BsfpMiMqVdFnuWAAn1AOpQPDX2pjKvbhE4yBz-sl/s1600/Desert.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggsnUXV5vv73INQ1uPaKC2vEophV9P_eZrq6c0UdGhroLAdOULYQ8KMlwyWiQPiHM549YAWyZhjEsoZTGrTAJAiRxX8_G5TGtR2-y2BsfpMiMqVdFnuWAAn1AOpQPDX2pjKvbhE4yBz-sl/s320/Desert.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556431883678914274" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">I should mention by now that I have also been a bit of a tourist while in Syria. Before the University course started I have been getting off the beaten track. My first taste of being a tourist was being invited by our newly found Syrian friends to Palmyra, a Roman city north east of Damascus in the desert. It's in ruins but in an excellent state of preservation, so much so that you can still see the main streets with columns and the Temple of Baal. Great, I thought, a good chance to see some history. It eventually came to light that we were travelling first not to Palmyra but to a patch of desert just south of Palmyra and staying the night there before heading to the ruins the next day. Fine, we thought. Then the final surprise was that we were going to be staying in a Bedouin tent there!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So we boarded a mini van (one that was normally used round Damascus - it still had its bus service destinations board on the roof) and headed out at sunset. After going through the suburbs we were suddenly out into the countryside. We managed to see the last glimpses of the terrain around the city before the sun set. Mountainous and dusty, similar to the mountains in Turkey that were a canvas for the clouds to paint. As we sped into the night we overtook lorries from Iraq, Iran and Turkey (Syria is a meeting point for the Middle East). We arrived at a famous cross roads after an hour and a half. Straight ahead led to our destination, Palmyra, left to Aleppo and right to northern Iraq. We turned right! But only to get some gas. Then it was back on the straight road to Palmyra and after more hours we suddenly turned off the road to a desert track and bumped our way into a small village. There were several compounds, surrounded by 12 foot high walls and it was into one of these anonymous compounds we turned. Inside several glistening eyes reflected the light back from the headlights, we were to be staying with about 15 camels!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Inside the compound there were two tents and one outside toilet. Back to nature, back to basics I thought. But inside the tents the modern world had arrived. A TV, fridge and air conditioning at one end of the tent and in the other tent a generator! Bedouin life has caught up with the modern world. The rest of the evening was spent chatting, having a barbecue and not getting too close to the camels. We were spending the night with an honoured guest, a racing camel named The Leader. It was to race in Syria's equivalent of the Camel Grand National in a few week ends time. It looked just like a normal camel to me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0CL9pLF1R5BE4wCgALyzodDF6hQLw7zK-GFFOsg8TTs9mcg86BDaacQfsWY2lMtr5SeBJPQrclS1xNEovwTmx1ub1_gBBjNVxc46wxET2D90kEu_nhIMlfkJg8p_qg8Jf0JykPsqaZoWF/s320/PAl.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556431885052937682" /><div style="text-align: justify;">Sleeping in a Bedouin tent conjours up romantic images. However it was one of the most uncomfortable nights I have ever had due to the hard ground (I have no idea how they can just sleep on the ground) and the barking of wild dogs which roamed the desert in packs after dark. We woke at first light and coffee was our only breakfast before we carried on our journey to Palmyra, a desert oasis. We caught glimpses of the ruined city through walls and trees on our way for an American style breakfast with pancakes and more coffee. At the ruins the collonaded main street could be seen along with ground plans of shops and restored theatres and temples. Feeling like proper archaeologists we set about exploring the ruins only for the atmosphere to be shattered by large numbers of tour groups from Italy, France, America and Japan trampling through! However the ruins were very impressive and you could find quiet areas. On one of the surrounding mountains a medieval castle had been built by the Muslim armies (not the Crusaders) and from this we could see the extent of Palmyra as well as the desert beyond stretching as far as the eye could see. Incredible!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On my way back we stopped for tea at another Bedouin tent beside the road complete with a hunting hawk! It was quite sad to return from the emptyness to the business of Damascus and I can see why Bedouins who live in Damascus try to get out whenever they can. There was something peaceful about the desert. You can remove yourself from the modern world and its troubles and in Syria this is important.</div></div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-38652544893036104522010-11-02T11:39:00.000-07:002010-12-30T03:07:59.723-08:00LIfe of Straight Street<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFWcxeqnPXx1dXlYF8r6lgpnrWHLZWU8fvJpzsxL6fdCz32vtin-z0oJuyklhoSXiyw0PGpdWs3hVoE1bdIEC3kG4hSTBLVQePPfcD7Fpd7dnxbvNMLNcP47FcaeYk7WAeuyluUFvztFS/s1600/Jebel+Quas.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFWcxeqnPXx1dXlYF8r6lgpnrWHLZWU8fvJpzsxL6fdCz32vtin-z0oJuyklhoSXiyw0PGpdWs3hVoE1bdIEC3kG4hSTBLVQePPfcD7Fpd7dnxbvNMLNcP47FcaeYk7WAeuyluUFvztFS/s320/Jebel+Quas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556430310561758146" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">The last few weeks have been busy sorting out immigration papers, letters from embassies and signing up for my third university (why?). Now I have settled down into a routine and can get back to civilization and tell you what I have been doing. After coming to Damascus and establishing myself, I have begun to feel like a local. I have made friends and have been socialising in the bars and cafes of Damascus over a<em>hwey </em> (coffee - very strong and bitter. It takes some getting used to, but I have learned now to drink it without sugar). The food here is good too, flavoursome and lots of variety. <em>Shwarma</em> is a chicken wrap that is great for a quick lunch. Mini pizzas have made it to Damascus in the many bakeries alongside more traditional breads such as <em>zatay</em> - a bread with herbs and olive oil. Other foods include <em>fual</em> (a bean dish) that is hit and miss - sometimes it is good , sometimes it is not even when it is served from the same pot in the same restaurant. The best named dish out here is <em>freaki -</em> bolger wheat with vegetables and herbs (very heavy and it looks a bit weird but great to eat!).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My daily routine consists of getting up at 7, having breakfast of flat bread and an egg followed by a strong coffee, which I have learned to make Syrian style, then it is off into the rush hour (which Syrians do properly - forget London!). I get the bus from the old city to the University of Damascus which takes about 30 minutes. I have been making that journey every day but each day is different. Some days the bus can be relatively empty and other days it is rammed. People stand in front of people sitting down in the seats or cling to the open door trying to avoid being side-wiped by cars, lorries or buildings. Arriving at the University I have 4 hours of Arabic until 1 oclock, which is quite intense but I am managing to stay ontop of it. Then it is back on the bus to lunch in the old city at around 2pm, them more Arabic at home in the afternoon and evening. Then I switch off by going out to a park or a cafe to relax!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The week here is Sunday to Thursday which has taken a bit of getting used to aswell! The weekend here is backwards with Friday having no shops open (or if they are, they are only open for a short period of time) and on Saturday everything comes to life. The house is still doing well - no more cockroaches! - and the roof is getting lots of use having dinner or just having tea. It's hard to sum up Damascus as each area of the city feels so different, like several cities in one, but each part has its own charm and character. The life here is manic and relaxed at the same time, vibrant and quiet, uncomfortable and comfortable. The Syrians have a phrase for this indescribable, confusing and undefinable action: TIS - This Is Syria.</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-10495360276510435682010-10-21T05:55:00.000-07:002010-12-30T03:09:48.156-08:00Hello Damascus!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPU8qb4UGvYi0rAAGN9rSFg3q63AvumVNbsLo7GnoR3lAumjnaZOelQGHoRgWNJBnl26wlUQjUUSihhVS9TyJBY8oHv0h5Tc8mo_QUJ21zNG_uVumnQO70RS2bl_xQO_4VfzUJD1pXjnS/s1600/Streets.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPU8qb4UGvYi0rAAGN9rSFg3q63AvumVNbsLo7GnoR3lAumjnaZOelQGHoRgWNJBnl26wlUQjUUSihhVS9TyJBY8oHv0h5Tc8mo_QUJ21zNG_uVumnQO70RS2bl_xQO_4VfzUJD1pXjnS/s320/Streets.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556428094756596674" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">After arriving and crashing out at a hostel somewhere in the lights of Damascus I awoke to find myself in a peaceful Arabic style house that was now a hostel. The Al Rabie hostel is one of the oldest remaining Arabic style houses in Damascus with a pleasant courtyard and fountain off which rooms are to be found. After a traditional breakfast of flat bread and olives it was out into the city in my first day in Al Sham (the nickname for Damascus meaning The Sun). I was in the Souq Sarouja area, just outside the old city, in an area that was once a graveyard of the city but out of necessity it became the sadlers' district before now it is a residential district. I wandered through the cool streets until I hit a large intersection where a lone policeman was directing the torrent of traffic streaming in all directions. With expert waves of his orange baton and a few whistles he was able to tame the traffic to his will, with any car disobeying being given a ticket, fine and a shout (presumably as some stress relief for the police officer). After wandering around trying to find the British Council and the French Institute for potential Arabic lessons (but to no avail) I found myself in the leafy University of Damascus Science Campus.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After asking some students where the University Language Centre was, I was whisked away in their car up the motorway to the Humanities Campus. Here my new friends took me to the administrative office to sort out my Arabic course and made sure I had everything, even buying me soft drinks before they left. The kindness and openness was only just one of many such events that I have experienced while being here. After eating falafal on Martyrs' Square (named after those killed by the French in 1925) we met up with the 2 Spanish backpackers (first met in Adana). They brought 2 friends who lived in the old city. After tea we all ventured out into the night and the lights and narrow passages of the old city. After walking down the main covered souq we arrived by the Ummayid Mosque - so vast I didn't realize it was it. I just assumed it was a city wall! Ate in a great restaurent with a huge courtyard, having a traditional meal and good conversation. One of the Syrian guys said he could fix us a house to rent and would meet with me tomorrow. After much food and talk I headed to the hostel through the still busy souq. What a first day!</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div><img style="text-align: justify;float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2kXlN0huAwVdz_1M24URe9GvueY-QbZyhZ3XEuW9yGPLa4_Nw_h-ZNBYcQU7Wzwsz1NZ2GqKdLN7hb8FPhlh2YckqoChu99AkqzeNTQ9MW0H0TFUH-q3XCxv4CH5A7VqTYYx9pm74rIL/s320/Roof+View.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556428104773711682" /><div style="text-align: justify;">The next few days were a whirlwind of seeing houses, signing contracts in dark alleyway offices, meeting with smiling lawyers, trying to remember where my house was, getting lost and attempting to get money out of the Syrian banking system. But I did get a house, it is in the Christian quarter of the old city between two gates, Bab Touma (Thomas Gate) and Bab Sharki (East Gate) in a simple comfortable house. It is a two and a half floor house with roof access giving amazing views of Jebel (mountain) Quassiuon and the other mountains around Damascus. At night the side of Jebel Quassiuon becomes lit up like Christmas lights with large numbers of slightly different coloured lights that create a twinkling effect. The house has a sitting room, hallway, utility room and toilet on the ground floor (complete with Christian Orthodox iconography - well it is a Christian house after all). Upstairs my room has a low ceiling and the longest bed in the house and no windows. It's a bit like a cave but I figured I am not spending all my time there so it is OK. Every morning I emerge and head up the stairs to the "dining room cum sun room cum kitchen". From here the rest of the kitchen, toilet and other bedrooms, randomly with bunk beds rather than beds, can be accessed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The house was so dirty that my housemates and I had a go at cleaning it. It was going well until we tried to clean the upstairs toilet. I lifted up the grill on the floor to clean it and noticed it was moving so I dropped it naturally (being a bit of a wuss) and made a manly noise. From the grill and the hole below, 20 to 30 cockroaches poured out onto the floor. I and my housemate systematically carried out a shock and awe tactic of "taking care" of them. Only after we had carried out our mass genocide we realised in Syria it was Martyrs' Day that day (remembering those who died in the October war with Israel). We had created martyrs on Martyrs Day! After the cleaning was almost done and the house felt almost like home. Damascus was now a home rather than a destination.</div></div></div></div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-31529097324895308152010-10-15T13:15:00.000-07:002010-12-30T03:09:22.607-08:00The Cheap Man's Orient Express<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8fnqjvjgDn4Ib2CJeQ3N60YMvbsfUgkA3QRL9dhoLllrfK_r7JnZffEyC8JhzkRgp2l8vAHRMBDzoAk_twZdlky4d18ChP9pGgce_Eu3GTiw9yBwCOGyfaHR8yjYxwMWlUu9QGokUtgn/s1600/Istanbul.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8fnqjvjgDn4Ib2CJeQ3N60YMvbsfUgkA3QRL9dhoLllrfK_r7JnZffEyC8JhzkRgp2l8vAHRMBDzoAk_twZdlky4d18ChP9pGgce_Eu3GTiw9yBwCOGyfaHR8yjYxwMWlUu9QGokUtgn/s320/Istanbul.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556425791191129026" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">The last few weeks have been a mixture of excitement, worrying and lots of coffee. I arrived in Istanbul late in the evening, raining hard and with a grumpy taxi man. We sped through the empty wet streets from the airport with the Bosphorus to our right, and the Blue Mosque coming in and out of view. After arriving at the Orient Hostel in the street behind the Blue Mosque, I crashed loudly and ungracefully into an 8 bed dorm with 2 large snoring Greeks for company, and the room feeling not too dissimilar to the inside of an oven!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My first day in Istanbul was spent wandering around the meandering streets near the Blue Mosque. Outside this impressive building I attempted to get past the throng of snake charmers (without snakes!), street sellers and a man dressed as Mehmet II to get into the courtyard infront of the Blue Mosque. It felt a very long way from home looking up at the domed roof, minarets and blue sky. Inside, the red carpet contrasted greatly with the white and blue geometric patterns of the roof, but sadly the atmosphere was lost to the masses of tourists on their own sightseeing pilgrimage to Istanbul. Across from a lovely park is the grandiose Hagia Sofia (a church, then a mosque, now a museum). Inside the cavernous interior of Hagia Sofia low strung lights and large placards with Arabic script stood out against the dull background. It was so big it was almost hard to take it all in. Exploring the narrow passages and the upper levels, I was distracted every now and then by the large interior, the Byzantine mosaics and the gold decorated paintings that had been discovered when the building was restored.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Grand Bazaar was my next stop in my wandering. Walking through this market was an experience with sellers of Turkish delight, spices and tea in the more touristy end, and more exotic items such as mannequins, sequin-studded phones and surplus army gear in the more local end! After getting tickets to Adana by sleeper train (being told it would take 16 to 18 hours) by the station on the banks of the Bospherous I headed back the Blue Mosque to spend the evening around there. The next day I spent 4 hours walking around incredible Topkei Palace, home of the Ottoman Empire for over 500 years. Here I saw amazing views of Istanbul along with the lavish decoration and some relics of the Prophet and his companions. The relics included several locks of the Prophet's hair, a wooden bow and staff (all in excellent preservation especially after at least 1300 years!). At sunset I headed across the Bosphorus on a ferry to the Hydrapassa Station and boarded the sleeper train that would be my home for the next day.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The cabin was simple - two beds, a sink and a table, but for 30 pounds you cannot complain. The Turkish countryside was mountainous in some parts, flat as a pancake in others, but everywhere had a distinct lack of trees. However, the sky painted the landscape with clouds creating patterns and textures on the hills adding some interest in the featureless landscapes. Slowly moving away from Europe, the villages we passed and places we stopped (sometimes no more than an orchard with a shack) felt a long way from the Turkey I met in Istanbul. 16 hours came and went. 18 hours came and went. 20 hours came and went. I began to believe the Lonely Planet's description of Turkish Railways "that you will grow old and die before reaching your destination". After 21 and a half hours we pulled into Adana, a city in the far east of Turkey and disembarked to me greeted with 29 degree heat at 10 o'clock at night. After chatting with two Spanish backpackers in the station we had a better idea of how to get into Syria. They were sleeping in the bus station to save money, however I wanted a proper rest and to get out of the heat so after catching a taxi I crashed into a cheap run-down, still-getting -built hotel!</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><img style="text-align: justify;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFqEbm1YwGRO4E3q121of6BcUGdpZ3-V6aimP-omUu7N5ogyrMVhst8LwBxIWnUnSkD4CwF6Zqwh7FVocnsmgId8H7uTVjQ-B5tAxI8IB65WJk2QtYeZM_VL-YOVYYjETChoDXYWK4ooD/s320/25P2050186.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556426592115882194" /><div style="text-align: justify;">7 hours sleep later I caught a taxi to Adana bus station, though after reversing up a motorway and with my misguided taxi driver exclaiming in surprise when I reached the bus station in Adana. After being herded onto a waiting bus where the conductor spoke Arabic (handy if we could speak more than a few words) and after paying 6 pounds I was on my way to Antakyia close to the Syrian border. It seems in Turkey to make money in transport you have to go to the needs of the people rather than make the people come to you (as in the UK). So for the next 4 hours the bus stopped in petrol stations, lay-bys and the sides of the motorways to pick up and drop off people. Just as I was getting used to the rhythm of it all I began to arrive into the ancient city of Antakyia or Antioch as it was known in Roman times. Sadly no evidence of the city's ancient heritage could be seen amongst the commercial area of Antakyia - only woodyards, scrap merchants and car dealers were evidence of continuing human habitation.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Arriving at the ugly bus station - a car park more than a station - I was bundled into a waiting taxi with curtains and driven to the part of town that issued visas to drivers. It felt uncomfortable but I have begun to see that in the Middle East you just have to go with the flow! At first I thought I was being driven to the border to get a bus, but I soon realized it was my own personal taxi to get to Aleppo for about 30 pounds! Khalib our driver chatted to me in broken English and Arabic (he was Syrian) while he drove towards the imposing border area, under the gaze of watch towers and past miles of barbed wire fences. It's what you think a border should look like. After jostling with the taxi drivers to show my passport I got through the Turkish side. The traffic was terrible and I waited in line for about an hour before reaching the Syrian side. Luckily I was not traveling in lorries. They had to wait for 5 km before the border and sometimes take a day or two to get through the border. After filling in a visa card and waiting in more lines, we weaved in and out of the lines of trucks and dodging cars coming the other way on our side of the road to get to the Syrian side!</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At duty free in no man's land I saw the two Spanish backpackers in a similar taxi waiting around. They were waiting for their taxi driver to buy as much fags and booze as he could hide under the seats and in the spare tyre area of his taxi, much like ours. We arranged to meet on the other side of the border after getting through. Before this after telling the border guard I smoked 20 a day (the cigarettes were the taxi drivers) he wished us luck after 4 hours of waiting. Not too bad! The 2 Spaniards were waiting and we then shared one taxi to Aleppo. We sped along the high featureless plateau before turning off to be suddenly dumped at the bus station at Aleppo. After trying out my Arabic and getting some response I managed to buy us all tickets to Damascus for about 3 dollars. I experienced my first ripping off in the station cafe before being crowded onto the bus at night fall. The bus station felt very Middle Eastern - the Arabic signs, the burkhas and the smells. It felt good to be nearly there. The bus took 4 hours mostly in the the darkness but when the bus rounded a corner I was greeted with a view of the lights of Damascus spread out before me. I was finally there, after 4 days from leaving the UK and 2 days traveling across Turkey. The road to Damascus had finished but the journey had just begun.</div></div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4887263474417910404.post-77552823550061161322010-09-16T03:55:00.000-07:002010-12-30T03:08:45.182-08:00"A good traveler has no fixed plans..."<div style="text-align: justify;">I've done it, I’m going to the Middle East. I have booked a flight to Istanbul leaving in late September, from which I will travel across Turkey to Damascus to Beirut with a friend. The initial idea of this trip began in a place where all good ideas in the history of man have been discussed, a Scottish pub. When discussing life after university, the idea came into my head that I should spend some time in the Middle East for two reasons:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">a) I have not been to the Middle East at all, and</div><div style="text-align: justify;">b) I do not speak Arabic very well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Both these issues I felt could haunt me in future years as a student of Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies with difficult questions such as "oh I suppose you must speak lots of Arabic" and "what's the Middle East like, I'm guessing you have been?" So it rectify this potential social awkwardness I have decided I should 'get my feet sandy' and take the plunge into the Arabic world. So on the 29th of September I am starting at the edge of Europe, before spending just under three months on the 'other side'. I have been passing the time of recent weeks by investigating the countries that I hope to be traveling through. Instead of writing lots and lots about each country, I have given five key facts about each country.*</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Five things you need to know about Turkey:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. It is technically a secular country.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. Istanbul is built on two continents.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. Tradition in Turkey says that a stranger at one’s doorstep is considered "God’s guest" for at least three days.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. What happens after three days?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. The oldest tin mine was found in Göltepe, 60 miles south of Tarsus.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Five things you need to know about Syria:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. Its official name is The Syrian Arab Republic.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. Syria gained independence from French control, on 17th April 1946.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. Damascus has been inhabited for over four thousand years, making it the oldest continuously inhabited settlement in the world.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. Syria was part of the Ottoman Empire from 1516 until the end of World War I.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. In 1930, the zoologist Israel Aharoni captured a mother golden hamster and her litter of pups in Aleppo, Syria. Recent mitochondrial DNA studies have established that all domestic golden hamsters are descended from one female, probably the one captured in 1930 in Syria.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Five things you need to know about Lebanon:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. 40% of the Lebanese people are Christian.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. There are 3.5 Million Lebanese in Lebanon.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. There are around 10 Million Lebanese outside Lebanon!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. Lebanon is the only country in the Middle East that does not have a desert.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. In springtime, on the same day, you can ski in the mountains and/or swim in the sea.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">*These facts may not be 100% accurate!</div>Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12062653498547976797noreply@blogger.com0