-Syria-

6) Syria-

11-14-2007 to 11-21-2007

I woke up early, bid farewell to Koray, and headed to the bus station. Complications rose early on as I had a hard time catching a mini-bus to the bus station. My anxiety escalated rapidly as I began to fear that I would miss my bus to Syria. Arriving five minutes late turned out to be the least of my problems; the bus’s departure was delayed an hour and a half. Then later on, only 15 minutes after the bus left the bus station, we stopped again at the edge of town. Apparently the bus driver found it imperative that the bus be washed before entering Syria. After thirty frustrating yet mildly amusing minutes of sitting on a concrete slab watching the gas station attendant angrily chase goats out of the parking lot….we departed.

We soon approached a desert landscape littered with barbwire fences and lookout towers with armed guards gazing blankly at their feet. We made it through the Turkish side of the border with relative ease, but the Syrian side was a whole new ball game.

Immediately after the bus stopped in front of the Syrian border, I was escorted from the bus by an armed guard and then taken into the back room of the main office building. I waited alone in a large room with tackily lavish brown vinyl furniture and a large square wooden desk. The room smelled like a strange mixture of stale cigarette buds and moldy socks. After about ten minutes of nervousness and boredom; a military official entered the room with a stack of paper containing multiple copies of my passport and visa. As he tore the copied pages into sections he began to casually interrogate me. After about ten simple questions about my job, reason for visiting Syria, what my parents did etc,…..he left the room. About five minutes later another officer came into the room and escorted me into an even smaller room. As I was escorted into the next room I began to grow nervous……….I had a visa, but was unsure if they would notice that I was traveling with the State Department passport I was issued as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The officer did not say a word to me as he carefully thumbed through my passport. After about 15 minutes of uncomfortable silence, the officer left the room. Ten minutes later another officer entered the room and signaled for me to follow him to another small room, this one closely resembling a jail cell. The room was about 7x10 with a small cot in the corner of the room equipped with a blanket and pillow. I sat in a small chair on the edge of the card table as the detached officer sat on the edge of the small bed. The officer suspiciously studied my passport and visa as he berated me with repetitive questioning. Why are you here? Where are you staying? What is your job?...................In order to ease the situation I offered him the full name and phone number of my Syrian host in Aleppo. This only seamed to encourage more questioning. After a few more officers and about another hour of questioning………my passport was stamped and I was on my way. Actually, on my way out the door, one of the officers who had been interrogating me smiled at me and said “welcome to Syria” as he waved me goodbye. After the border interrogation, it began to dawn on me that I was entering into a very strict and conservative country with a very fundamentally frightened and paranoid culture.

Shortly after passing though the border, the bus pulled over and we were all transferred to a shabbily maintained Syrian bus for the remainder of the trip. Upon entering the Syrian bus, I was cordially greeted by the men sitting across the aisle from me, and given a handful of sunflower seeds accompanied by a smile and a sincere “welcome”. I arrived in Aleppo a bit before 3pm……….the one hour bus ride turned into a three hour bus ride with four hours of waiting!

I was overwhelmed and a bit intimidated upon arrival in Aleppo. The bustling Arabic city of Aleppo was dirty, loud, and completely different to me than any other Arabic cities I had visited previously. I sat on the side of the road for about a half an hour before I mustered up enough courage to wander through the crowded streets in search of a money exchange office. While looking around perplexedly and blatantly sticking out like a goat in a piggery; I was spotted by a friendly local. After a quick introduction, my new friend Mohamed (a 22 year old Kurdish student) walked me around town until we came across a money exchange center. Mohammed spoke surprisingly fluent English, and seemed quite excited about meeting an American. Mohammed decided to wait with me until my host Mustafa retrieved me. Our conversations were quite enlightening and informative. Mohammed and I primarily discussed Kurdish history, and the cultural differences between Muslims and Christians. He made it a point to tell me that Kurdish people like Americans because we often help his people.

As the sun began to lose its strength, my host Mustafa arrived in the town center and greeted me with an infectious smile. After a quick introduction and farewell to my new Kurdish friend, Mustafa and I began to hike to a small English Institute near the University of Aleppo. The entire crew was waiting for me at the institute as I arrived. The crew was a diverse mix of Syrian college students between the ages of 20-25. My host Mustafa is a beast of a man…..about my height (6ft 3) but twice as thick. His gentle demeanor and sensitivity substantially contradict his brutish outward appearance. After a few hours of Q and A with Alleppo’s future proffessionals, we were on our way to Mustafa’s village via mini-bus. Mustafa and his family live about 30 minutes out of town in a small agricultural village of about 8,000 inhabitants. Strangely, pretty much everyone in this village was related. Mustafa boasts close to 400 cousins (they count 4-5-6…cousins). It seamed like every time we walked down the street and ran into a group of guys, I was introduced to at least two of Mustafa’s cousins.


While Mustafa and I pleasantly walked along the dimly lit dirt trails to his home; he kindly explained to me his family’s core values and beliefs. Understanding how different and comparatively less conservative American culture is; Mustafa wanted me to realize that his family was in fact quite conservative and that I should not feel awkward about this. It turns out that his mother is not allowed to meet me, let alone speak to me. If I were to be in her presence she would have to wear a hijab (cloth covering) even over her face. So for the next two days at Mustafa’s house; I did not see his mother once. I stayed in a small room at the edge of the house where Mustafa and I ate all our meals and slept on the floor. The only occasions I entered the main section of his home were when I had to walk down the hallway to the family’s Turkish toilet. I heard Mustafa’s mother a few times through the walls but never caught a glimpse of her or any of Mustafa’s sisters.

While it is on the top of my mind, I will mention a few of the cultural norms in Muslim-Conservative Syria, and explain a few of the fundamental lifestyle contrasts (as opposed to typical Western society).

-When entering a residence it is appropriate to wait at the outside gate and let your host enter his home first in order to warn the family(women) of an outsider’s (non-relative) presence.
-Eating: Food is often served on the floor, Water is not often served with meals……and if it is…..there will be only one cup and one pitcher of water. Everyone takes turns drinking out of the cup. Flat bread is eaten with just about everything, and fundamentally takes the place of silverware. When hosting, if the host wants to eat or drink something it is customary for him to offer the guest first,……..and only after this is the host free to eat of drink. It is normal and considered a selfless gesture for a host to hand feed you a few bites of food. It is a gesture of kindness and respect to the guest.
-Women are almost always in charge of preparing the food and cleaning around the house.
-Conservative clothing are always worn by women…….usually including a ‘Hadjab’(head scarf) covering the hair and a long skirtlike blouse that loosely covers a woman’s backside.
- Diesel is often used for powering boilers and stoves………. It kind of freaked me out at first….but they assured me the tank would not explode.
- Showering on the floor is the norm; Turkish bath style. Generally a shower is taken by sitting on a small plastic stool and using a bowl to scoop water from a bucket on the floor. It is actually quite nice and relaxing.

Well there are plenty of other social norms worth mentioning, but I thought I would simply mention a few in order to properly illustrate the cultural differences that conservative Muslims have with the Western world.

While enjoying a delicious supper with the men in Mustafa’s immediate family, I casually began to speak of the intimidating experiences I went through while crossing through Syrian border customs.

Surprising to me, Mustafa’s face suddenly grew pail with worry as I mentioned that I had given the police his name and phone number. The petrified look in Mustafa’s soft brown eyes and his increasingly timid voice which was now laced with trembling horror began to open up my eyes and show me vivid indications of how serious the immediate situation had become. As Mustafa collapsed on the floor with his hands smothering his face he began to repeat over and over…. “This is bad, This is bad, you do not understand, this is bad”… After Mustafa regained his composure he calmly explained to me that the Syrian Government might accuse him of being a spy and that in Syria suspected spies get tossed into jail for up to 5 years without even getting a trial. My bad…………..I guess I never thought about the possibility of raising that sort of suspicion amongst the Syrian military.


Apparently the government is currently on extra tight patrol because about a month ago an Israeli spy with a fake Canadian passport successfully entered Syria and took several pictures of military command posts and was able to gather a substantial amount of information for the Israeli government and media.

At 8am the following morning we were both awoken by Mustafa’s loud and obnoxious cell phone ring. Mustafa was finally confronted with the conversation that he had stayed up all night dreading. On the other side of the line was of course a military officer who wanted to meet with Mustafa immediately concerning an American “tourist” by the name of Trevor Lake. To say the least, Mustafa was not amused at this point and was incredibly anxious about the meeting with the officer. We met the military officer on a busy street corner in central Aleppo at around 11am. He seemed a bit perturbed that I was present, and advised Mustafa to drop me off at a café before returning to meet him.

About 40 minutes later, Mustafa returned to the café and briefed me on our current situation. Mustafa explained to the officer that I was his friend, and that I was being hosted by him free of charge so that he could practice his English and take part in a “Cultural Exchange”. The officer told him that this particular situation was “unnatural” and that he did not believe that I was not paying him for tourism services. The officer also found it to fundamentally be completely unacceptable that I was actually staying in Mustafa’s home. After Mustafa’s one sided argument with the military officer, the interrogation ended with a few rules set in place. One……….that I leave his home by the following morning, and two……..that he write up and present him in detail a full report of our activities together.

The following morning Mustafa transferred me to Jamal’s pad…..and I have been in the clear ever since. Jamal is a 24 year old master of English and entrepreneur, who currently runs an English language institute which caters to University students. Jamal lives in a small apartment in the center of Aleppo with his mother, sister, and rapidly aging father. His Father is 65 (his mother is only 45) and has a tumor on the side of his head that consumes his ear and makes it sag halfway down his neck. Jamal like many young Muslim men, is the primary bread earner for his family. He does not complain about this added strain and excess responsibility, he simply gives and supports because of the love and respect he has for his family.

I have lived with Jamal’s family for the last 5 days and have enjoyed my time there immensely. We usually eat our traditional Syrian breakfast as a family around 11am…….and then we part ways for the remainder of the day. Our family dinner has been at its earliest 1am. Usually we all eat our final meal together around 2am……and follow it up with warm conversation over goblets of sugary tea. A typical evening in Jamal’s home drags well into the early morning hours.

When I first stepped foot into Jamal’s home I was literally treated like a son. Jamal’s father immediately said “welcome”(in English) and kissed me on both cheeks. He then explained to me through Jamal’s interpretation that I am now his son and welcome in his home. The mother is a bit on the shy conservative side……but equally as welcoming and kind. I think the giddy 20 year old sister enjoys having guests……as she is constantly around us and serving us.

I am living in Jamal’s home as their second guest. Alex……….a 23 year old Brit is also staying in their home. Alex came to Syria about 5 weeks ago and while couchsurfing with Jamal decided he would like to stick around a while and teach conversational English at Jamal’s institute. He was more than welcome to stay………and has been a loved and accepted part of Jamal’s family ever since. Alex is by far a better son than I, due to his warm outgoing personality and his fluent Arabic. This is an essential skill for Syria……….because absolutely nothing here is in English.

It would be incredibly challenging to attempt to explain exactly what I have been up to this last week in Syria, so I will simply try and outline the highlights.

The Citadel: Said to be the oldest castle in the world is a magnificent structure rebuilt over the last 5 millenniums at least a dozen times. It was significantly rebuilt about 1,000 years ago while under Amowayan rule. The fascinating thing about this citadel is that it was completely erected by man. It is perched on top of a large man made hill with hidden chambers and caves throughout. There are several tunnels that lead from the basement of the citadel to ancient homes and hideouts close to 10km from the castle. My favorite part of the citadel was the entrance…….a beautifully constructed bridge staggers up across the dry moat and onto the citadel’s historic entrance.


Food: the food here is excellent……….for the most part. The staples seam to be mutton, garbanzo beans, and pita bread. Of course these core ingredients are cooked with many other things and in many creatively different ways.

Fast food: Aleppo is the original home of the falafel, and finding these delicious fried-vegetable donuts is quite easy. Other fast food I have enjoyed while here is Fool: beans, oil, spices served with Pita bread. And Feta: beans, whole and ground, oil, spices, and served with crisp pita bread mixed within the dish.

My company has been extraordinary the last week:…..I have been escorted around Aleppo by various groups of university students and treated like a touring celebrity. Being a foreigner in this country has been an incredibly pleasant experience. Syrian women are undeniably conservative and beautiful; however, some actually express their romantic aspirations in a surprisingly open manner. I was quite surprised the other day when a beautiful, conservative looking college girl tried to “talk me up” while I was having tea at a University café.

My friends and I sat down next to a group of three veiled girls at a table in the University’s cafeteria. As we conversed around the table I made eye contact a few times with a beautiful Moslem girl sitting across from me, and each time she would start giggling and whispering things to her friend. Soon after, she began to ask me questions through the interpretation of my friend Kaise. To my surprise, the girl continued complimenting me and openly flirting with me. She would say things like “ If I would have known you were coming, I would have studied English” and “ you are very beautiful”…….moments later she stood up and announced that she was leaving, but would stay if I wanted her to. I was a bit shocked and confused by the situation, so I simply let her go. After inquiring to the crew about what had just happened, they all told me that the girl simply liked me and wanted to “court” me; which means that she would have liked to go on a supervised date with me. I found the whole situation a bit unexpected and hilarious. I had no idea that Moslem women were even approachable. I found out later, that being an American in Syria……though awkward at times……was more often then not quite acceptable and welcomed. I will also add that most of the Syrian women I met loved the American accent and prefered it over the Brit’s…..Score one point for team USA.


Moving on, I suppose the moral of this story is that in general, women in Syria, though relatively conservative, date and love in the same ways that women do in the Western World; meaning that Syrian women do not typically fit into the stereotypical molds that have been created by Western Media. They are not generally bare foot in their kitchens, slaves for their men, beaten by their husbands, or treated like second class citizens……..they are simply a bit more conservative and modest than women in typical Western societies. Characteristically, Islamic women fit into the mold of the nurturer and the men the provider. I think most people are willing to concur that neither job is an easy one, and that both compliment each other in a very natural way. Not to say that this is the best way, most natural way, or the only way, but it is a cultural choice made by a large population of people in this world. I personally see nothing wrong with equal but different; as long as no one is oppressed or denied free will, we must recognize the philosophies behind the phrase “to each his/her own”

Walking around the university campus is always a treat. Getting stared at constantly takes getting used to; however, since it is in a celebrity type way, it is quite flattering. It is like being a rock star, being a tall blue eyed guy with long blonde hair has distinguished me from the rest of the crowd.


Most Syrians completely accept and respect Americans……but like the rest of the world, hate Bush and his US foreign policy. I have done my best to avoid being berated by political questions that I am ill prepared to answer. However, from time to time I feel inclined to give in to the questioning and attempt to erect myself as a productive diplomatic mediator. I am a strong believer that ignorance is entirely curable on both sides. A window must be washed on both sides in order for it to adequately serve its purpose as a translucent barrier.

Syrians are a tough crowd………though gentle, kind, warm, and hospitable; they do have very strong opinions about the US Government. And in all truth and reality they have every right to have their reservations. The amount of propaganda that is pumped into this country by extremist groups has been crippling. Likewise, the amount of propaganda that has been created by the West to ensure that the world fears Syria is also incredibly unjust and damaging. This is a battle waged by both sides in an effort to harden hearts, skew reality, and cripple communication before it has a chance to become a solvent for the very foggy windows that separate the West from the Moslem World. When borders become so rigid that we begin dehumanizing the other side and living by a fundamental mentality of “us vs. them” war is imminent and indefinite. Countries that inhibit open communication and fail to provide accurately representative diplomacy with the world begin to sew a seed of isolation and become Petri dishes for intolerance, hate, and ignorance.

Controversy:


Throughout my stay in the incredible country of Syria, I have had numerous discussions and open debates with an array of Syrians whom many I now consider to be good friends. After experiencing and observing first hand just how uniquely different the Syrian culture and lifestyle is from my own; it is not surprising to me that most of the Syrians that I have had the pleasure to interact with, share an entirely different view than I on many of the pressing issues of current times.

Anti-Semitism- I was utterly shocked and completely taken back with disbelief when I began to realize just how Anti-Semitic many Syrians are. After hearing a few casually spoken but blatantly racist remarks by my Syrian crew; I decided to pry a bit deeper into their minds in order to more adequately comprehend their prejudices.

One evening as the crew and I were sipping tea while conversing about Islamic hospitality and the damaging powers of the Western media, I decided to test the waters by attempting to figure out just how anti-Semitic my open-minded, hospitable, kind and educated friends are. I simply asked Mustafa if he would ever consider hosting a traveling Jew in his home. …..He paused briefly before replying with a cold and aggravated look……. “No, I would kill him”. I personally don’t believe that Mustafa would actually kill an Israeli or Jew, but it is safe to say that Mustafa and the rest of my Syrian crew have deep rooted most likely inherited, hatred for their Israeli neighbors.

Another evening while we were all debating and discussing the fundamentals of the Islamic belief system and it’s relation to Judaism and Christianity;…….Mohammed II went off on an angry tangent about how historically destructive and terrible the Jews have been to Moslems. He concluded by saying that their will not be peace until a bloody war is waged against the illegal Jewish occupiers of Palestine. Unfortunately this is quite a popular opinion in the Islamic world and one that seems to be growing stronger. Later that same evening, Mustafa mentioned that in the Koran it says that when Jesus returns to earth he will immediately convert to Islam and soon after lead a war against the Jews.

Obviously most Syrians do not hate all Jews; I am sure if a poll was taken you would find that Syrians are fundamentally against the country of Israel……..not Jews in general. From my interactions thus far, I have found most Syrians to be very kind and accepting. I have been pleasantly surprised to see how Syrians often judge one by his individualism rather than his group status. To but it plainly, I have been perceived as an American…..not America.

Unanimous Syrian animosity toward the Jews seems to be for the most part rooted in the Israeli conflict and dilemma. The Majority of Syrians view Israel as occupied Palestine; a land that has been unjustly overrun and seized by immigrant Jews who have forced themselves upon Palestinian soil with brute force and allied intimidation. In reality, this is quite a popular opinion……..one that has been commonly shared by the Islamic world, the far left and even Gandhi.

According to my Syrian friends, Jews are a constant threat to them because Israelis (Jewish ones) feel that the true “Israeli promise land” is the entire region between the Mediterranean Sea and the Euphrates river (as symbolized by blue stripes on the Israeli flag). According to them, Israeli’s will not be satisfied until they conquer and occupy the entire region. Obviously the lines of communication have been snubbed for quite some time, and the glass barrier that has divided the Jewish-Moslem worlds has become obstructed by the growing layers of thick ash and mud.


Obviously there are always two sides to a story, and I personally know first hand that there is an equally hostile and valid Israeli point of view. However, in order to avoid getting sucked into a long drawn out controversial rant about Israel………I will simply move on.

Iraq- As much as I have continuously attempted to avoid discussing this issue, as an American traveling within the Moslem World……it has been completely unavoidable.

Though initially quite hesitant, one evening Jamal began openly discussing his opinions about the war in Iraq. Jamal spoke of how irate and saddened Syrians were when the USA began its invasion of Iraq. Soon after the invasion, Jamal’s cousins began preparing to join a crew of Syrian vigilantes that would travel into Iraq in order to fight the blood thirsty Americans. Surprisingly, Jamal fully supported the notion of gorilla type Syrian units sneaking into Iraq to fight the invading infidels. Jamal counseled his cousins about their radical decision and eventually convinced them to stay in Syria simply because the plan lacked adequate organization and a sufficient level of safety. According to the Koran, if a non-Moslem nation invades a Moslem nation…..it is the duty of all Moslems to join the war and fight with their Moslem brothers against the infidels. So, it appears that the USA’s unjustified invasion of Iraq has sparked an uncontrollable fire that has spread throughout the Moslem World; a fire that has been fueled by violence, ignorance, fear, desperation, humiliation, and Koranic fundamentalism. Good work Bush!!!!!

When Jamal calmly told me that he wholeheartedly agrees with this Koranic doctrine, I began to grow a bit uneasy. I was suddenly reminded that by default I was situated on the other side of the battle lines……and that my Western opinions were the cause of the gently magnifying dissent. In the spirit of open discussion, I looked into Jamal’s eyes and asked him if he would fight against me because I am an American……..without hesitation, he casually said “of course not, you are not a soldier”……I pried deeper into Jamal’s mentality by telling him that I have very close friends whom are soldiers in Iraq………I tried to explain to Jamal that the situation in Iraq is not black and white, and should not be oversimplified by fundamental religious rules and values. After we both reclined into a contemplative state of uncomfortable silence, feeling defeated, I slowly drifted into sleep. We have not discussed such controversial things since that evening………and thankfully, we still get along like brothers.


Another contrasting point of view that I have repetitively heard throughout Syria is that Saddam Hussein was a great man and that the Iraqi people loved him. I have been told on numerous occasions that during Saddam Hussein’s rule people lived happily and peacefully. And that the quality of life for the Iraqi people was quite high. Apparently all the necessities of life were free to all Iraqi citizens; including petrol, electricity, bread, milk etc. I mention this only because it differs greatly from the view of most Westerners. When analyzing this particular set of opinions, it is difficult to imagine the West having an accurate understanding of life in Iraq before the war. It seams more realistic and probable that their close neighbors and allies (Syrians) possess the more accurate understanding. Indisputably, the West has always viewed Saddam as an evil, blood thirsty tyrant bent on killing his opposition, oppressing the weak, and snuffing out the free will and progression of his people. Similarly, a rapidly increasing number of people consider President George W. Bush to be the worst terrorist of all. In the Arab world, it is commonly believed that soldiers in Iraq are simply evil murderers doing the work of Bush. The same people often describe the United States as a greedy country ravishing a once peaceful land in order to dominate the Middle East, inject Christianity, and take over the region for large capital gains.

Can we blame them? Just as our media promotes the opinion that all Moslems are freedom hating terrorists, their media portrays America as the most evil and tyrannical country in the world. Irresponsible fear mongers controlling the media on both ends have rapidly escalated and magnified the destructive lies and hatred amongst both groups. Thanks to reckless and biased media sources, the poison of ignorance has spread through the entire world like an indiscriminate plague.



I find it both frightening and strangely exhilarating to be traveling in a country with such broken and fragile relations with the USA. Something about being within the borders of Syria and exploring a world so culturally different than my own makes me feel powerless and horribly uneducated.

1-21-2007

I am typing away on a computer…….and about to conclude my 3rd night in Lattakia Syria. I will be heading to Damascus tomorrow by bus.



Lattakia has been great. It is a major Mediterranean port city with bustling streets and elaborate markets. I have spent the last few days going on long explorative walks around the city and peacefully reading indoors while escaping the rain.

I am staying with a beautiful French girl in her late 20s. She teaches French here in Aleppo and has spent the last nine years of her life working in various countries throughout the world. It has been quite refreshing being around such a brilliant, kind, warm, and free spirited woman. Our conversations have been incredible because we share many common beliefs and philosophical views on life. She has been a pleasure to be around and an incredible host. In general, the city of Lattakia has not been remarkable in any way; however, I have thoroughly enjoyed several long walks along the ocean and curiously exploring the busy markets.

As I was gazing upon the brilliantly sun streaked Mediterranean Sea; I could not help but feel consumed with inner peace and happiness. I thought to myself, what is happiness? Truly it is not as complicated as the world presents it to be………….I decided then that happiness to me is a perfectly tailored and intricate balance of Security, Comfort, and Peace of Mind. And at that moment looking over the water, I felt the peacefully radiant combination of all three.

11/23-11/25 2007

Yesterday I took a bus to Damascus; the oldest continuously occupied city in the world. I found Damascus to be huge and quite intimidating. The cab drivers were a bit too obnoxious for comfort.

Upon arrival in Damascus, I met up with my hosts, a young couple from Austria and Quebec. They had met a few years ago while backpacking through Europe, and have been inseparable ever since. They also have a young boy who is about three years of age. Jim works for a large international company that is currently setting up a large power plant on the outskirts of Damascus. He was telling me that only 4% of the products in Syria can be American due to US government sanctions on Syria. This sounds like a ridiculous restriction; however, it is in fact enforced. Recently a CIA agent showed up unannounced to Jim’s work site to examine all the equipment and make sure it fit the restrictive code enforced by the USA. So yeah,……..it is pretty obvious that the United State’s international relations with Syria are not so good at the moment.

I have had an increasingly difficult time traveling around Damascus. Each and every sign is in Arabic and things here move at a ridiculously fast pace. I am constantly forced to aggressively fight my way onto public buses in order to find a seat before they are all taken. It appears that the locals here are always in a frantic hurry. Traveling around this city has been increasingly stressful. I suppose things in Allepo would prove to be similar if I were stripped from my network of Syrian friends.

As a product of my survival instinct, I have figured out an excellent strategy for coping with the crippling language barrier and pubic transit confusion. It is dubbed ‘the lost child strategy’. When I need to get somewhere and have no Idea which public bus to take,……..I simply walk up to a random person on the street and with a confused and helpless look on my face, I state the name of the location I am trying to reach. I do this while pointing in a random direction and exhibiting a look of hopeless disorientation. I have found that this method works100% of the time. Each time, the friendly stranger will take me under their wing and put me on the right bus. For example, when I wanted to visit the city of Maalula……I simply approached a middle aged Iraqi woman and her teenage daughter……. executed the ‘Lost Child Strategy’ and in no time was on a bus toward the edge of town. Fifteen minutes later, the bus stopped and I was escorted through the chaotic streets to the bus station. Upon arrival, I was taken directly to the mini-bus heading to Maalula. I have never been in a country with such wonderful and kind people…..it appears to me that literally all Syrians are willing to help pathetic foreigners traverse their busy cities.

Maalula is a beautiful mountain town situated on the edge of a magnificently carved canyon. It is a historically Greek town and is one of the few places in the world where the ancient language of Aramaic (The language of the holy bearded one) is still spoken. After an hour long drive through the dusty sun bleached desert we began climbing up a rocky hillside toward Maalula . Upon arrival, I was immediately taken back by the region’s gorgeous panoramic beauty, and the vibrantly glowing residences that were nestled gently under the massive cliffs that dominate the area.

After looking around the modern, nonetheless beautiful convent; I wandered through an intricately carved sandstone canyon and up a dirt trail to the top of the cliff. The potentially incredible view from above is almost completely obstructed by the disruptive presence of a thuggishly abrasive concrete hotel. The only view available to visitors is from the edge of the old church.



The old church on the edge of the massive cliff was built over 2,000 years ago as a pagan temple of Jupiter. It was not until around 400AD that the temple was converted into a Christian church. The beautiful church is in remarkably good shape due mostly to its innovative original construction and the vigilant maintenance provided by the city of Maalula. There are several wood beams inserted into various parts of the marble and brick walls. The wood essentially provides a seam of shock absorption that apparently helps deter the damaging effects of earthquakes. Through scientific testing and carbon dating, these thick wooden beams have been dated at over 2,000 years old. I found this church to be uniquely pure and overwhelmingly spiritual. As I quietly listened to the priests sermon, followed by the lords prayer (all in Aramaic); I was moved by how peaceful and pleasant the environment was. The grace and purity of the church was quite uplifting and inspirational. I am not by any means a religious person, however I do respect and honor the concept of spirituality and religion……..

11-24

I stood on the side of the road for about 30 minutes before I built up enough courage to ask a stranger which fixed route mini-van would take me to the “old town”. Eventually I asked an Iraqi woman and her daughter, both whom spoke a small amount of English and were more than willing to help. Running into such friendly Iraqis made me wonder what it would have been like to visit their country before the war. Perhaps it would be like Syria……conservative, regulated, and impoverished, but filled with people exhibiting an underlying peacefulness and tranquility that has been a result of hundreds of years of brotherly love and unselfishness.

After arriving on the edge of old town, I made way through the bustling city streets toward the Giant mosque located within the ancient walls of the city. The mosque was decorated by an outrageously intricate and beautiful mosaic of green and gold tiles. I initially thought it was a painting, but closer observance revealed its true nature. I believe the mosque was built in either the 8th or the 9th century AD. Also, the mosque is said to contain the head of John the Baptist………., no the Muslims did not Slaughter the biblical figure; they honor him as much as Christians do, which is probably the reason they created a shrine to honor him. This is because of course, Moslems believe in both the Old and New Testament.

Old town is basically a small urban village surrounded by a massive ancient wall and containing, a large mosque, Ottoman era houses and a massive market that rivals Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar. I enjoyed wandering around the market and observing all of the enthusiastic vendors trying to sell their products. One vendor had a table full of lamb feet that he was preparing on the spot with a blow torch……apparently many Syrians find lamb feet to be a tasty snack.

The residential section of Old Town Damascus consists of an incomprehensible maze of ottoman era homes smashed together, separated only by narrow alleys and dark tunnels. I found it fascinating to watch the local people casually go about their simple/primitive daily lives; essentially living historically traditional lifestyles, sheltered only by a large stone wall that protects them from a fast paced, bustling capital city of Damascus.


11-25

I am sick again!!!! I am plagued with flu like symptoms and am lacking the adequate amount of motivation and energy that is much needed at this particular moment. It is so damn hard to stay healthy while traveling; I am even thinner now than I was when I began my journey…….which is kinda scary. I can pretty much pinpoint the exact moment I contracted my current illness. I acquired this particular virus at a whole in the wall fool joint in downtown Damascus. Almost everyday around lunchtime, I wander the streets of Syria in search of some tasty fool (fool is basically smashed garbanzo beans, oil, large brown beans, and a few spices). A fool joint is relatively easy to find throughout Syria…….and the 30cent price tag makes it a tempting indulgence whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner. The problem lies in the sanitation practices of these places…….each table is equipped with one pitcher of water……one steel cup…a bowl of salt (salt is taken with a bare fingered pinch)…and a handful of hungry Syrian men,…….so basically sharing a dirty cup with one two many Syrian dudes is what got me sick.

Today was a bit rough…….. I woke up feeling horrible. Fighting off strong feelings of nausea and debilitating fatigue I managed to take a cab into the center of Damascus. Soon after arriving in downtown Damascus and flawlessly executing the ‘Lost Child Strategy’ I was in a fixed route taxi heading to the bus station. Unfortunately, I arrived seven minutes late and consequently missed the early bus to Bosra. After a less then entertaining two hours of waiting…..I was on a bus heading to the Southern town of Bosra. I arrived in Bosra at about 4:10pm and immediately began running to the city’s massive citadel and roman amphitheatre. The place apparently closes at 4:00pm, but after about 10 minutes of forcefully arguing with the attendant, the man smiled and told me he would allow me to view the premises for ten minutes. I literally ran around the castle and through the ancient roman amphitheater snapping pictures along the way. It was definitely not the ideal way to absorb and analyze an ancient historical landmark; however, I was able to enjoy a few moments of sheer amazement and joy while quickly soaking in this architectural marvel. After leaving the citadel, I wandered around the open air ruins of ancient Bosra. The bright red sun was gently melting into the smoky purple clouds as I wandered around the stone pillars and arches of the once magnificent ancient city. Romance and mysticism poured out of the city’s open wounds. While sitting on top of a partially collapsed ancient wall and staring at the massive citadel I began to reflect on both the past and present simultaneously. The hazy pink sky surrounded the walls of the citadel with protective comfort. I began to feel incredibly blessed and lucky to be enjoying such a purely blissful moment. The warm desert air complimented the explorative atmosphere by providing a brief moment of comfort for body and mind. Though short lived and seemingly insignificant, those few reflective moments in Bosra, were for me, utterly unforgettable.

At 5:15pm I began hiking toward the bus station, which was supposedly at the edge of town. After overshooting the bus station by over a mile, I was befriended by an old Syrian man and was walked back into the right direction. The short, stocky, weathered looking man sported a glowing yellow beard, and baggy brown shalwar kameez and a gentle smile. He spoke a bit of English, which he picked up while working construction in Saudi Arabia for 15 years. Overall, I would say he was a nice guy; However, I was given the cliché speech: “I love Americans, but your government is just a bunch of terrorists”……nonetheless the old man was kind, pleasant, and incredibly helpful……even to a despised American such as myself.

Generally, I have found that a political debate is never won with a Moslem…….one can only hope to achieve a mutual compromise, which only appears when humanity is elevated high enough over the top of religion to temporarily hide the scars of war and diplomatic failures. The truth is that most of the diplomatic strains that the West has with the Arab/Muslim world are a result of cultural ignorance and misunderstanding. The key is to allow countries to govern themselves, and to restrain from intervening in culturally firm diplomatic issues. For example……oppression is a relative term. What the West may see as oppressive behavior, the Muslim world may see as religiously and culturally imperative. After all, if a nation is unable to adequately understand the cultural complexities of a foreign civilization, they have absolutely no right to interfere with their political structure or the social makeup of their society. An opinion that one system works for all civilizations…….is incredibly flawed. Socialism by nature oppresses free will. Capitalism by nature evaporates the middle class and is fueled by greed and unfair predisposition. Democratic governments in thriving nations are simply republics run by the nation’s aristocrats; which often promotes the idea that rich people are more qualified to make decisions than the people who built the particular nation from the ground up.

While we were walking back into town, a dark skinned, grubby looking fellow pulled up on his motorcycle and joined in our conversation. He asked me “where are you going?” and when I told him that I was heading back to Damascus, he assured me that there were unfortunately no more busses heading that direction, and that he could take me by taxi to a nearby town (a town that has several busses heading to Damascus). This generous fellow was willing to help me out for only $20………what an excellent deal, how lucky am I for finding this guy! (The two hour bus ride to Bosra from Damascus was $1.20) I burned off all my naivety while I was living in Bulgaria, which means that this guy picked the wrong guy to mess with. I told the local con artist that I new for a fact that there was a 6:00pm bus for Damascus. He then adamantly proclaimed that the bus was sold out, and that I must take him up on his generous offer. After trying to ignore the man by walk past him,……the guy pretty much made me get on the back of his motorcycle. A few minutes later we arrived at the bus station (small office in between two fruit stands). As we approached the clerk I blurted out “one ticket for Damascus please”…….the clerk unenthusiastically acknowledged……and began writing me a ticket. This is when the persistence of the grubby bastard hit its peak;……He mumbled something to the clerk in Arabic and then pointed at the paper and said “see sold out”. The clerk paused for a second with a confused look on his face, but soon realized his role in the scam. The clerk then said “sorry no more tickets”……………At this point I am not really in the mood for bullshit, I would rather walk to Damascus than get in a cab with this guy. I calmly told them both that I would gladly wait for the next bus, and if the bus is in fact full……..I will simply take the 8:00pm bus. The con artist looked at me like I was crazy; why would I wait three hours when I could simply take him up on his offer and use his taxi service? Obviously the man is unfamiliar with the mentality of your average backpacker. A backpacker generally has more time than money…..and is usually not in much of a hurry. With a look of defeat and irritation; the conman left the ticket office. I waited quietly on the dusty vinyl couch in the dark office (the power went out) for about 35min before the clerk awkwardly wrote me a ticket for the 6pm bus.

I made it back to Damascus at around 8:30pm and was completely relieved that the horrible day was over. Four hours of waiting, six hours on a bus, one hour being conned…….all for 30 minutes of sightseeing. The day however was not a total loss; Bosra was in fact a pretty cool place…..the citadel and amphitheater were quite impressive.

Ohh, and I forgot to mention………when I was lost looking for the bus station and walking toward the edge of town, a couple shirtless guys on a motorcycle drove by and mean mugged me while giving me the bird.

Bosra gets a B-…………..and is the only city in Syria that I feel would have been more enjoyable without its residents.
-At Mustafa’s pad-



-Mustafa and his cousin Kaise-



-Downtown Aleppo-


-Citadel-







-Dinner with Jamal and his family at 2am-


-Soccer night in Aleppo-



-Lattakia-





-Maalula-






-Old Town Damascus-






-Mosque in old town-