Writing from an ill-advised trip to the Middle East soon after September 11th in 2001. Visited Turkey, Syria, and Jordan.
I left the country. I didn't think I'd make it. I guess I haven't really made it. I'm not sure I should be traveling. Who travels at a time like this?
I'm sitting at the Grand Cafe in Haarlem, Netherlands. This is the first leg (brief leg) of my journey to Turkey and my exploration of the former Ottoman Empire. OK, knock it off, I've heard it all... Since September 11th I've run the gamut of emotion, thoughts, and concerns. Like all Americans (everyone for that matter), I was hit hard by the images of jets hitting the Twin Towers and the later collapse and devastation. I still cannot fully comprehend what I saw, I thought the world was ending, I thought I was seeing one of my last days. I used to wonder what would have happened in 1993 if that bomb would have toppled the WTC... Now I wonder how many times something like that will happen.
Like everyone, I watched with tear filled eyes as CNN brought us more and more information, detail, then started in on their overwhelming coverage. Initially I was glued to the TV coverage. CNN has met expectations by moving from coverage to typical CNN-style exploitation. Initially I couldn't believe what I was seeing, now I'm having difficulty seeing what I truly believe. Everyone may be watching "America's New War", but I doubt everyone was simultaneously planning a two month trip to the Middle East. Some maybe, me yes...
I was still reeling from the devastation, collective trauma, and personal trauma, but I made the decision to continue with my plan. Four weeks in Turkey followed by three weeks in Syria and Jordan. After having already scrapped a plan to visit Israel, my plans started to crumble, people fell into typical CNN-style ignorance, and people attacked me with concern... I've never seen people so systematically both care for me and disregard my judgment.
We'll, here I am. Things have been adjusted to manage the mass exodus of American tourists back to their collective couches. I had to cancel my Syria/Jordan trip, I probably could have made it work, but peer pressure and unsatisfactory timing put me off the plan. Now I'm going to Turkey, still Turkey.
Trust me, I have my fears, some warranted, some ridiculous. I have fears that are new and some that are old. The adventurer in me is disappointed that I didn't stick to one of my original plans to trek from Istanbul to Cairo. The rich American in me is getting lazy and fat shying from the challenge and complication. The optimist in me is not changing anything and moving forward in caffeinated confidence. But finally, the realist in me sees statistics and human nature supporting the plan. Since September 11th I feel the following basic truths have appeared: 1) the world has changed, 2) I have changed, and 3) my travel plans are not worth concerning yourself over.
The cappuccino isn't working, I'm still tired, and unfortunately I'm heading into the Central Standard Time lunch with remnants of jet-lag. I guess it's time to switch to beer. I had an intensely long flight which began with an intensely long delay in Minneapolis. Thankfully my companion on the plane proved extremely useful... She was an attractive woman from Kuwait heading home from North Carolina State. Here I was sitting next to a devout muslim woman with a Ph.D. in civil engineering and talking about everything from Osama Bin Ladin, to the Palestinian crisis, to America politics, to the latest movies... This timely friend single handedly helped dash a half-dozen misconceptions I had about the situation, strengthened my confidence in smart people, and cooled my ignorant jets.
I've clearly run on... My beer is gone and I think it's time for some food. More from Turkey in a few days. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainMy first impressions on my first few hours in Istanbul as I sit at the Sultan Pub near a beautiful (and large) mosque. I'd reference the mosque's name, but I'm not sure what it is since I just headed off from the hotel on a bit of a trek for food and a place to write this journal entry.
I guess that's enough for now. It feels good to be here. Tomorrow I think I'll check out the covered market, maybe spend some of this worthless Turkish Lira... The exchange rate today is $1 = 1,600,000 TL. I'm basically carrying around around 200 million in cash.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainBack at the Sultan Pub after a large and inexpensive lunch. I saw several of the tourist sites in Istanbul over the last two days. Nothing too exciting, the Blue Mosque was incredible, but the Topkapi Palace was disappointing. The "treasure" room was something: emeralds, diamonds (one 85 ct.), ming vases, gold, etc...
I had a nice tour of the Blue Mosque, apparently the center of some excitement on Friday. Otherwise not much notice of the U.S./Afgani problems, the Turks I imagine are busy leading their lives. Our tour guide gave us an interesting perspective on some of the Islamic fundamentalist problems in Turkey. She seems to be a progressive Islamic woman or at the very least a traditionalist (if there is such a thing). She discussed the use of head scarves and some of the sources for the fundamentalist views, misconceptions, etc. While I'm sure her pro-republic attitude collides with many of the Islamic ideals, she discussed the Koran and the alternative translations over the years. Recent more historically accurate interpretations have shown Mohammed was accepting and inclusive to women and very "flexible" as opposed to the strict cover-yourself-head-to-toe, anti-establishment attitudes some are following. It seems some may have fallen into the trap... Mohammed seems to have advocated "do as I say, not as I do". Many fundamentalist focus in on how he lived his life and have mistakenly taken an idolic approach which flies in the face of the way Mohammed truly prophesized. This is how I understand what our tour guide said and what I have interpolated from my own understanding of Islam.
Although Turkey (the republic) is a mere 79 years old, it is trying to prove itself in the western world where many of us still envision camels, sultans, and harem life (dang! on the last one).
Individual | Comments (0) | MainI'm finally on the road in Turkey. Yesterday Bursa, the capital from the Byzantine or was it the Ottoman Empire of years past? Today it's Afyon, a wonderful place in central Turkey. Today we hiked to the top of a stunning rock mountain with ancient castle ruins atop. During the slow decent and subsequent exploration we encountered interesting old houses, markets, and people cheerfully trying to sell us everything from heaters, to shoe laces, to an unidentified green powder...
The call to prayer rings out as I settle down for the evening. For the first night in a while I'm able to watch English news and hear the latest information regarding Anthrax and the assassination of the Israeli Tourism Minister. Life in Turkey seems removed from the terroristic turmoil of the west, but it isn't... Everyone that learns I'm from the U.S. is surprised to see me, assuming we are too afraid to travel, especially to an Islamic destination. I tell them I'm not afraid even as I hear of the riots and foiled terrorist bombings in Istanbul. Conversations then seem to quickly move to Osama Bin Ladin, Afghanistan, or even the U.S. harboring of Armenians (???). My attempts at changing the subject have been feeble...
Today's hike took us to some extremely poor but picturesque areas in Afyon. In the hills surrounding the town the houses suffer from years of neglect and I suspect a few earthquakes. The doors are left open with nothing to steal. The laundry is hand washed by old women who also take care of children, chop wood, shop, and cook in relative difficult conditions. Most are happy to see us and respond quickly to our "Merhaba"... Children shy away, but respond as we pass with a jeering "Hallo!". Occasionally we exchange names or have an offer of cay (tea), but little else. Turkish is all they can speak in this town that sees few English and even fewer Americans.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainIt's been twelve days and I think this may be the first buzz of the trip. Thank God (or Allah) for tourists. Since we've been in un-touristy towns for the last week all the restaurants haven't served bira (beer). Tonight we hit Bedrock and it's Efes Pilsens all around.
I'm writing from the Hotel Alfina, my room is carved into the side of a mountain, very cool (both meanings of the word). This is the story nearly everywhere in the Cappadoccia region of Turkey. Cappadoccia, specifically the Goreme Valley is an amazing place where the people have lived in the mountains for thousands of years. When I say "in the mountains", I mean "in the mountains". The area is characterized by spiky little conical mountains of very soft rock created eons ago by a few nearby volcanoes. This soft rock has allowed generations of people to dig houses and huge underground cities right into the sides of the mountains. It's absolutely magical. And, I swear to God, it's like walking around in Bedrock. The houses built into these conical rock formations is right out of the Flintstones.
I'd venture to say that there is no place like this elsewhere on the planet. We visited an underground city with thousands of rooms and dozens of levels. It was a matrix of dwellings and tunnels which almost defies description. We walked among houses and churches built into the sides of these towering rock cones... Thanks to generations of Greek Orthodox residents, several interesting churches, monasteries, and convents take there place along side the apparent (but not really) stone aged dwellings. We ended the day with a short hike up the most spectacular of these structures to watch the sunset across this alien landscape. Cappadoccia may be one of the most unusual places I've been.
Tomorrow I get the chance for more exploration of the land of the Cappadoccians. Prior to visiting Cappadoccia and staying in this underground hotel in the town of Urgua we visited several Central Anatolian towns including Sivas, Afyon, and Turkey's capitol of Ankara. While the scenery and landscape has been drab at best, we've been able to explore some real Turkish towns without the heavy tourism... Easily summed up, the people are wonderful. At least half a dozen times I've been invited in for tea by the locals after a five minute conversation where little English was spoken and where little was understood beyond "hallo", "merhaba", "cay?", or maybe an exchange of names. Whether it was the iron mongers, the lady in the window, or the old woman doing the wash, everyone goes out of there way to make you feel welcome. A few people from our group even ended up at dinner with a well off family from Sivas... They invited them in for tea, then fed them dinner, then ended the evening by giving them all gifts... Where else can you get that type of hospitality? Certainly not in the U.S. People would be too afraid to talk to you let-lone invite you into their house. Somewhere things went wrong in the states and we've cascaded into an isolationist hell with no escape. No escape. It's only getting worse. Worse.
After a week of kicking around in Turkey, after a week of uneventful travel, I'm thinking about reinitiating my plans for Syria and Jordan. Assuming I can get them going again without too much extra expense, I think my original plans sound better than off-season Greece... Stay tuned. I still have several days left here in good ol' Byzantine.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainA change of scenery. No more pointy little rock shacks, matriced underground cities, or faceless Christians... Warm sea air, littered beaches, and crusader islands at 5:00pm on the Mediterranean coast. A welcome change after a long bus trip. We've changed in our Hittites for Romans and chilly mornings for sun and sand.
Although this is my first few minutes here on the Eastern Mediterranean, my first impression is that the Turks and the tourists of Turkey smoke too much and leave all their nasty butts behind. The beach here in Kizcalazee is covered with millions of spent cigarette butts providing an extremely poor first impression. Beyond that the sea is beautiful and the beach is superb. The ancient crusader castle just a few hundred yards off the beach on a lonely island adds to the dramatic and satisfying effect. Although I prefer the shell covered beaches of Florida and the pristine Hawaiian beaches to this nicotine littered dune, I do like the idea of relaxing after a quick paced week...
The season is ending in coastal Turkey, all that is left are the Northern Europeans with near Canadian tolerance. I expect tomorrow we'll find more beached tourists with their glossy white skin, their bloated bellies, and their godforsaken Speedos. Although the bikinis and topless sights will be much reduced, I think I prefer this to the more disgustingly hot season. 75oF and sunny with warm water from a season of convective heating beats Minneapolis as fall turns into winter and winter turns to absolute zero, hypothermia, and sure static molecular death with tongues frozen to flag poles... Ok, maybe it is only October, but I need something to gloat about.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainWhat's the difference between a "tourist" and a "traveler"? I'm told a "tourist" is not really a good thing and a "traveler" is what one strives to be... Unfortunately, I'd consider myself a tourist, I think it is impossible to be a true "traveler", blend in, not leave a mark, not fall prey to the touts, and not return home with tat (i.e. useless tourist junk). I try to pretend I'm not a tourist but I have several things working against me: 1) I'm an American, as much as I'd like to pretend this doesn't matter, as much as I'd like to hide this fact, it is impossible. 2) The naive 90% of tourists ruin it for the rest by flashing their money, falling for the scams, and buying the tat. 3) I have a camera, I think a true "traveler" would not bother with a camera. 4) I can't think of a fourth, but I'm sure there are a dozen other reasons.
Why am I hung up about this subject? We just got scammed at dinner... Thankfully the group was pretty effective at fighting it, but still we got scammed. The bill which should have been around 40,000,000 TL came out to 60,000,000 TL ($39). Exactly. I totaled it up and sure enough it was 60,000,000. The waiter had conveniently added around 20,000,000 TL for salad and fries... Prick! After maybe 10-15 minutes of arguing I got him down to 55 million... After collecting from the team I paid him 41,500,000 TL, including 10,000,000 TL of my own frigging money (lending to a few topics for my next journal entries: "People Who Don't Pay Their Fare Share" or "Basic Math" or "How to Tip"). Anyway, after getting chased out of the restaurant by the local thugs, we jogged back to our hotel... I am a tourist. Yes I am!
Speaking of the hotel, it deserves mention. We are in the town of Antalya on the Mediterranean coast. Beautiful town (so far) and a very cool hotel in an old Ottoman style house. The house has several interesting rooms with old rafters and windows overlooking the courtyard. The courtyard is fabulous with an old original well (the old iron crank-up bucket type), a nice bar, and a quaint (yes quaint) cafe. Great choice, comfortable room...
Let's see, I'm three pages in and I haven't said anything about the trip... This must be a good day. Well, this is partly true only because I'm finally recovering from a cold and a terrible day of... Let's call it Ataturk's Revenge or maybe the Turkey Trot... I was pretty dang sick yesterday and after and eight hour bus ride I'm feeling pretty good in comparison... Put it this way, I slept about 16 hours yesterday and made sure I had a handy plastic bag on the bus... More in a few days.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainOn this day, the day commemorating Kemal Ataturk's revolution, Turkey's independence, and a new westernized outlook in the former Ottoman Empire, it makes sense to discuss a few little things that would help Turkey edge toward true western excess and help them harmonize with the European Union... Who better to make these recommendations than the chubby American from Minnesota in his J.Crew pullover, Levi jeans, and Sketcher shoes?
Here it goes... The top five things Turkey needs to make it feel more western:
Better Plumbing - Specifically, some halfway decent shower heads. After three weeks here, I'm already putting together plans to buy a bunch of inexpensive but high-quality shower heads in the U.S. and go door-to-door like Johnny Appleseed and start a revolution installing nice plumbing, hot water, etc... I'll be worshiped like Ataturk.
These little problems are common to several countries and my journal entry won't change a thing... Unless of course I buy those shower heads and hit the road... Travelers have learned to expect this kind of treatment, but really, how hard would it be? How hard? It's funny how you find a hotel with (in theory) thousands of dollars worth of Turkish carpets on the floors and a 29 cent frigging shower head.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainDay twenty of my Turkish adventure, the day before Halloween, and the week of warned doom in the U.S. I listened to the BBC today and heard Attorney General Ashcroft's warnings regarding potential attacks this week... And although Pakistan is in a bit of chaos and of course Afghanistan continues to crumble, I feel more safe in the Middle East than I would in the land of Anthrax and uncertainty. The Internet has passed rumors of shopping mall attacks on Halloween and now the news is scaring everyone with conjecture of small pox... Turkey seems a long way from the fear, but in reality no distance is a safe distance from the random evil.
It's difficult to switch gears from the problems being reported on the news to the experience I'm enjoying here in Turkey. Today I hopped a bus to the small mountainside town of Sirince and strolled among the red roofed stone houses, the vineyards, and the goat herds. While I can't say the town was untouched by tourism, it was a pleasant contrast from the city of Selcuk that I'd escaped from earlier that morning. Everyone I passed offered a friendly "merhaba" and several invited us in for cay. Although this was still a thinly veiled ploy to sell us a bit of lace, a sprig of Turkish spice, or maybe a taste of local wine it was welcome.
Walking high above the town on a dusty trail we met a gentleman harvesting grapes in his vineyard as the season allowed. A brief chat over shared bunches of sweet green grapes will not soon be forgotten. Further up the trail we duck to the side allowing a herd of goats to pass as the two colorful shepherds guide them along with a mule loaded down with branches (soon to be goat food) down to the village. It wasn't long ago that this village could have existed without currency, without western fashion, and without the littering satellite dishes. Thankfully the older generation slows the progress and the basic needs of the community help maintain the charm for another year.
We visited a school during the children's lunch break... The thirty or so kids, while fascinated with us, seemed content with their lunches and unafraid as two potential kidnappers invaded their school. The imposing statue of Ataturk in the foyer with clear evidence of enshrinement guarded the entry. From there it was over to the old school house (now converted into a fancy hotel) for a quick stolen sip of cherry wine (or was it strawberry?) and then back to the mini-bus for a quick trip down the mountain. In no time we were back in Selcuk among the high-pressure carpet salesmen and the glossy shops of jeannie lamps, blue evil eyes, and miscellaneous tat. The decades of the 80s and 90s gave us a lot, but in exchange for what?
Individual | Comments (0) | MainRiding along on the bus grumbling away as only an American could or would do... In my typical self-conscious way I've grown tired of a few of my traveling companions. Whether it's the relentless and diminishing slappy humor of the Aussie contingent or the rabid quest for photos by the seasoned generation... I'm beginning to look forward to the end of this organized portion of my adventure. Three weeks is a long time.
Our group is divided into four basic factions: the English, the Aussies (with one Kiwi), the Canadians, and me (the lowly American). Normally I'd charge in and rip on my own faction, capitalism, arrogance, etc., but my feeling is that although I can fall into typical U.S. pride I don't demonstrate the America that my fellow travelers seem to loath or have taken to generalize constantly. I guess since this entire journal entry will be a set of generalizations I will concede that if my generalizations are true then theirs may be true as well... Here goes...
The English are my current favorite group on the bus... A quote says it all: "The English can't be bothered". While the English happily display their superior attitude and colonial chips, they play fair and as Tony Blair has demonstrated they are not afraid to take sides. My English friends on the bus use the language perfectly, demonstrate a respect toward me I enjoy, and yes, they can't be bothered.
I used to think Australians were the most friendly and inviting people in the world... Their appetite for adventure, their easy going attitude, and their down-under pride always made me jealous. I always looked at Australia as paradise, as Oz, and as a place I'd like to hide from the rest of the world's problems. And, even though Australia is damned with limited world impact, I always thought I'd prefer this to the U.S. global domination of thought... Now I can see that Australians suffer from a reverse psychosomatic jealousy of the Americans. Their relentlessly simple humor and inciting behavior is enjoyable to some extent, but after three weeks of unoriginal bantering I've come to two conclusions: 1) Australian humor is directly related to a suffered lack of visibility in the world. Nobody notices Australia and their personality is the result. And 2) Australian severe political correctness is just a reverse psychological way for them to get the recognition they crave. By not stooping to our (the U.S.) level they are better. Whether it's reading the right books, watching the right movies, or not falling victim to the competitive traditions of America (i.e., electing homecoming queens, tracking grade point averages, etc.) they consistently try to back into a superior stance while denying it to the end.
My guess is that I'm being rough on my Australian counterparts, but like I deserve their jest, they deserve my analysis. Even as I write this I'm listening in on a discussion of Utah polygamy and typical red-neck accusations and generalizations. Maybe the Aussies on the bus are poor ambassadors or maybe I'm just an ass. The U.S. is clearly prideful to a negligent extent and although we may not display our colors on our backpacks in misdirected nationalistic fervor, we declare ourselves "Americans" in complete disrespect toward Canada and Latin America our western hemispheric neighbors...
Individual | Comments (0) | MainSitting at the Al-Nawfra Coffee Shop outside the Omayyed Mosque in the old section of Damascus, the said oldest continuously occupied city in the world. A relatively comfortable spot after a busy morning... So far Damascus has been a little difficult, not a lot of tourists here (I've met one Australian in three days), and my Arabic is not that good. I guess it hasn't been too bad, I'm starting to understand the numbers, the coins provide a nice opportunity to learn the Arabic numerals.
The first thing I noticed about Syria and Damascus is the variety of costumes (for lack of a better word). As you might expect, the women are mostly covered, some in head scarves, some completely covered in black, some in blue patterned covers, etc... The most striking are the ones in pure black. Most show some of their face and cover as a man passes, some just show their eyes, and some completely cover their faces in sheer black. I imagine they can see, but it cannot be easy. That all said, many young women dress very western. It's quite a contrast to see someone completely cloaked in black next to a young woman in her best Britney Spears wear. Given the country is around 10% Christian, I'd say 1 in 4 dress "western".
The real variety comes from the men in Damascus. Differing religions, differing Islamic sects, and differing casts provide for a multitude of styles. From the long beards and turbans, to the Shiite jalabiyyehs (robes) and caps, to the traditional formal klafiyyeh and aghilen (head cloth and cord) of the Arabs. I feel like changing my clothes in an attempt t blend in. I would enjoy a day without hearing an "excuse me please" or a "may you see my shop" (or "factory" as many say here in Damascus).
The second thing I noticed was the garbage and dirt (or dust maybe). Syria like Turkey doesn't seem to care where they toss their garbage. The streets are cluttered, the road sides are awful, and the river through the city (if that's what it was) was absolutely disgusting. I've never smelled or seen anything like it. This in a desert country where one would think water would be precious. I've seen some disgusting rivers in Nepal, in Malaysia, in Thailand, but this one was the worst.
Today on the Islamic holy day when many things are closed I ventured out of town to a couple of very old Christian towns in the mountains near Lebanon. The towns of Maaloula and Seydnaya contain an old Greek Orthodox church and an ancient monastery respectively. Maaloula's church was fabulous and the strange ravine (about 8 feet wide and a 100 feet deep) was curious. Both the Maaloula church and the Seydnaya monastery contained similar chapels devoted to various icons of Christianity. The very devout and religious seem to congregate in loose but focused pilgrimages. Maaloula is most famous for being one of the last places on earth where Aramaic, the supposed language of Christ, is still spoken. I can't say for sure since my Aramaic is about as good as my Arabic.
Speaking of iconic worship. Wasn't that what we were talking about? Another thing easy to notice in Syria since it appears in almost every place of business, in every cab, and on the facade of every government building is the face of Hafe al-Assad, the former Syrian president and his son (the current president). Hafe was in power for thirty-some years and although elected five times I wouldn't expect a count was needed. Maybe the people were too worried about all the work required to take down all those pictures and remove all those profiles and busts from all the government buildings to bother electing someone else. Hmmm... Now his son is in power, same as the states.
The coffee shop is busy, most have a cup of tea and a huge water-pipe (narjileh) to smoke various tobaccos heated by red hot coals and cooled through the water reservoir at the base. Everyone smokes these things, the young, the old, males, females. even kids... I'm sure I'll have a try before leaving, but for now I'll skip it and recover from yet another cold or maybe it's dry desert induced throat cancer. Cough, cough, hack, hack...
Individual | Comments (0) | MainSitting in the Al Patra Hotel listening to the Arabic interpretation of George W. Bush's speech to the U.N. It seems George W. is walking the same line. Given Osama Bin Ladin's latest released tape it sounds like both sides are confident. The talk around the Middle East I imagine is whether or not the bombing will continue over Ramadan... Although very little danger exists or concern seems necessary here in Syria or Turkey where I left, the Islamic holy month, starting next Friday, should be interesting.
I don't have much to discuss, but I thought I might mention a few things I encountered today. I spent the morning walking around the Christian quarter of Damascus' old city. While there wasn't anything spectacular to see, I did bump into a friendly gentleman outside of St. Paul's church. He seemed to be a deacon or some type of care taker for the church. He invited me in and spent the next 45 minutes giving me the stories behind every painting, every statue, every Syrian saint, every Syrian martyr, and every relic contained or documented within the church walls. While I'm not much of a Christian scholar, his tour was exceptional. He was a friendly soul in a city that hasn't yet grown on me. Damascus with its relatively indifferent and busy population and its carbon monoxide atmosphere couldn't really grow on anyone.
Later, after visiting a few more mediocre sites in the Christian and Jewish quarters I headed back to the hotel passing along a long wide street called "Straight Street" (of all things). The street was packed with children dressed military style all piling onto ancient buses decorated excessively with paint, gold, and Arabic calligraphy. Some of these buses looked about 40-60 years old sputtering black smoke and filled to over-capacity. Safety and patience are foreign concepts to the Syrians. Whether it's dangerously crowded buses, speeding-unyielding-horn-honking cars, pollution of all kinds, or the incessant smoking of the entire population, nobody gets out of Damascus without some health impact. For me it's a throat and nose full of disgusting black residue. For others who knows? It's hard to explain how dirty things are in this city. I'm looking forward to escaping the city and seeing the desert environment away from the incessant honking of ramshackle cars, unfinished cement atrocities, and scum that may have permanently stained my lungs.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainMy first sip of beer in five days. Primarily due to two days of what I'll call Assad's revenge, and another few days due to Syria's cultural neglect of the drinking vice... Not too sure my stomach can take it, it's reacting poorly after the first sip.
I'm in Aleppo, Syria's second city and historically a market town bridging the gap between Asia Minor and Asia. The market legacy remains in Aleppo with its 10 miles of souqs (or covered markets) selling everything from fabric, to carpets, to gold, to nasty sheep heads... The souqs are basically tunnels lined with shops built a mere 400 years ago. It's funny to watch the shoppers. The western tourists stare into the shops with exotic spices, hanging meats, and such while the covered woman stare into the shops with mannequins clad in western clothes. The rest stare at the tourists, wave, and drink tea. I have this theory that the Syrian government requires all children under the age of twelve to wave madly, jump up and down, and swarm tourists. Every kid we pass on the road, in the city, or in the country waves and yells the typical "hallo". Today while visiting Aleppo's citadel I was swarmed by hundreds of children on field-trip wanting to shake my hand and ask my name. It was very nice, but very strange.
Syria (outside of Damascus) has been a pleasant surprise. Still the same old ancient ruins similar to Turkey, but something is different. The prices are the same, the people are less accustom to tourists, the government is hard-line, and the current events are compelling. Yesterday we traveled near the Anti-Lebanon Mountains. We walked through the Palestinian section of the town of Hama. The Syrians have strong opinions on the Palestine-Israel situation and they're not afraid to tell you their views or write it on a billboard. It's "Palestine for Palestinians" or " The Jews want peace and all the land, the Arabs won't agree to that". It's difficult not to sympathize with them.
Well, I think I'll switch from my journal to a few postcards. This beer may take a while. The blaring horns of Aleppo should keep me company while I write. My apologies to my avid journal readers, the Internet is pretty censored and locked down here in Syria preventing me from publishing and e-mailing without going through a safeweb site... Nothing like breaking the law in a terrorist supporting, totalitarian country. Hail Assad!
Individual | Comments (0) | MainToday we visited a Bedouin market and "beehive" village. Together they presented both an incredible opportunity and a somewhat difficult dilemma. The opportunity to see the market and the residents was wonderful. The dilemma of making too much of an impact as a tourist is concerning and an excellent topic for debate. I'm not in the mood to debate so I'll just tell you what I saw.
The market was excellent. People selling everything from fruits and vegetables, to chickens, to horses, to lamb hides, to brilliantly covered fabrics, to shoes. Lots of shoes. The Bedouin woman, many Islamic woman for that matter, in a way can only express themselves with their shoes. Their basic covered dress provides little latitude for creativity, so shoes seem to have extra importance. This is made clear by the sheer number of shoe sellers and the thousands of shoe styles. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of opportunities for people to buy other western clothes and I'm sure the women wear them under their covers, but shoes are clearly the "hot" item.
The Bedouin markets were not the same as the other markets we've visited. A few children said "hallo", a few men nodded, but not much else. In Bedouin culture woman are not allowed to look at men, nor men woman, touching can be a serious situation. Bedouin women lead difficult lives and can even be presented with deadly consequences for actions we wouldn't even notice in western culture (i.e., touching). Needless to say, I was on my best behavior.
The "beehive" villages get their name from the unique adobe houses the Bedouins build in the desert. Each house or set of houses look like domed mud igloos, some interconnected. The most noticeable thing about the village as compared to the markets was the return of swarming children, this time yelling "soorah" which means "picture" or "take my picture". I enjoyed the children, but it's definitely debatable whether we (tourists) should create such an impact in the lives of a disappearing culture like the Bedouins. The beautifully dressed girls along with the boys in need of baths made up a group of about 20 posing for pictures, showing off their "beehive" houses, and at times asking for cash... Interesting experience, one that will not settle immediately.
Tomorrow we head for the eastern most point in Syria near the Iraqi border. From there we can give Saddam Hussien our best and make our way toward the Oasis of Palmyra and then Jordan by the weekend.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainCoasting along in the bus as the desert grass flies by my window. A feeling of satisfaction and a smile on my face having survived the first day of Ramadan fasting. I'm not sure how long I'll last, but it seems like the sympathetic thing to do as the Islamic community here in Syria bears down for its 30 days of fasting between dawn and dusk. This day, the first day, was good.
Earlier we watched the sun set over the Syrian desert, camels and sheep grazing on hard desert grass, lonely Bedouin walkers on distant horizons, and irregular tents interrupting the landscape. As the sun disappeared toward the west we stopped at a roadside tea house. Inside excited Bedouin men are just breaking the day's fast. Sitting on the floor sharing traditional soup, flat bread, mince, and vegetables. All are smiling after an uncomfortable initial day of Ramadan. It's hard to compare the faith of Islam with anything. As a pseudo-athiest I don't stand a chance. But, even in this western infused world, the people here are able to maintain a tradition and faith unequaled. The only thing the U.S. has that vaguely qualifies or compares is their incessant quest for money. That alone is our Mecca. Sad to say, but true. My guess is that this kind of monetary devotion is misdirected if you claim to follow a true god.
PS - I lasted two days fasting with my Islamic friends... Not too good.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainToday I crossed the border from the socialist totalitarian society of Syria into the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. I've replaced my Syrian Pounds for Jordanian Dinars and photos of father and son Assad for photos of father and son kings Hussien and Abdullah. I'm not sure what to expect, although I understand Jordan is much more "westernized", I also hear that during Ramadan it is illegal to eat, drink, or smoke in public, punishable by imprisonment for the duration of Ramadan (30 days). We'll see how it goes. I'll try to restrain from eating within sight of the well-dressed Jordanian Guard.
We finished up in Syria by visiting two fabulous sites in Palmyra and Bosra. Palmyra is an ancient oasis on the Persian caravan routes across the Syrian desert. Natural springs provided the necessary refreshment for camels and men alike. This location was perfect for the ancient Palmyrians to build their rose colored colonnades, temples, and tombs. After more than five weeks of ruins, ruins, ruins, Palmyra was still an amazing site and experience. The combination of the desert setting, the scale, and the colors provided an overall atmosphere that was unforgettable.
To finish my Syrian experience, I visited the small town of Bosra in southern Syria not far from the Jordanian border and I suppose not too far from the Golan Heights. Bosra resembles a war torn village due to its mandated vacancy of crumbling black basalt dwellings sitting atop the ancient city. The villagers over the centuries have taken the ancient carved stone and built houses on top of houses in this historic walled city. Now, the Syrian government is slowly moving the squatters out and beginning the process of excavation and restoration. As the squatters slowly leave and various digs occur, the old houses begin to fall and the bombed out appearance spreads. The columns, mosque, and spectacular Roman theater were amazing and provided a perfect last impression as I left Syria. Syria was an excellent place to visit and while the government does not make one feel comfortable from maybe a human-rights perspective, the people and deep history more than compensate. Let's hope at some point Syria adopts a more democratic government and maybe turns toward better environmental policy before it's too late.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainHow can one describe the experience of first arriving at the Khazneh in Petra? Like a photograph, words cannot possibly describe what I saw in clarity equivalent to the true sight and experience. Let me say this, Petra is one of the most amazing places I've ever seen.
To get to the Khazneh (also called the Treasury, but it's really a tomb of sorts) you hike nearly a mile through a deep, twisting, narrow siq (or canyon) carved into Petra's red sandstone cliffs by thousands of years of erosion. The colors are amazing, around every corner your breath is taken away by yet another view of the siq, the cliffs, the colors. The siq alone is worth the visit, but after hiking to the end you emerge into the light and are rewarded with a stunning view of the Khazneh, probably one of the most beautiful and most well preserved ruins anywhere in the world. The Khazneh is around 2000 years old, but it looks like it was carved into the mountain yesterday. Not only is it impossible to describe Petra, but it's difficult to describe the mystery it evokes. Thanks to Steven Spielberg and hundreds of years of protection by generations of secretive Bedouins, Petra maintains a mystical and mysterious presence. The story of how it was rediscovered in 1812 by a Swiss explorer is fascinating... After converting to Islam and staging a sacrifice to honor Haroun, Johann Ludwig Burckhardt was led to Petra. I can only imagine his elation upon seeing Khazneh after emerging from the siq. Five hundred years prior the crusaders probably felt the same way before they start pillaging. Absolutely stunning!
I have another day to explore Petra. I can hardly contain myself. If it wasn't for the difficult hikes I don't think I'd sleep. It feels like I've hiked a hundred miles today. Realistically it was more like three or four miles, including 900-some steps up to Wadi al-Deir (or the monastery). Wadi al-Deir is another tomb, but much larger and nearly as stunning as the Khazneh. The views of the Wadi Araba desert and the tomb were amazing. Well worth the hike up and well worth the arduous one-hour hike back to the hotel. My legs are pleasantly aching and my mind is understandably reeling...
Individual | Comments (0) | MainAfter five or six consecutive Thanksgivings in five or six different countries, I'd say this one is probably the most unusual. I'm writing this journal entry from a Bedouin tent in the middle of Jordan's Wadi Rum desert. My Thanksgiving dinner consisted of lamb and chicken roasted over an open fire. Typical air and auto holiday transport were replaced by disagreeable camels stepping lightly across deep sand. Really a very traditional Thanksgiving. Really.
As the tradition dictates, this is the day when Americans look back over the last year and give thanks for what has happened and for what we have. I have many things to be thankful for. Here I am winding up a two month vacation, and looking at another year off to "find myself"... Not many people can take two years off out of four. I may not have things figured out, but I am extremely thankful for what I have and for who I am. Spending the last two months here in the Middle East has opened my eyes to many things, from typical realizations of how lucky I am to have a roof over my head, to a better understanding of the political problems of the region, to a better tolerance of religious differences, to a personal reduction of the fear and ignorance many of us suffered after September 11th.
Today we stopped in on a Bedouin family living in a tent in the middle of the Wadi Araba desert. With no real agenda, we accepted an offer of tea not really thinking about the time and energy needed to make tea in the desert where wood and water are scarce. It was a pleasure sharing time with this family, the kids were very pleasant in their hand-me-down clothes, helping their parents with everything from collecting wood, to filling the water cistern, to pouring tea. I assume like me, these kids are parents are thankful for what they have and it doesn't necessarily occur to them to want more. I gave a few of the children stickers which ended up on their foreheads... I snapped a few pictures and shared the images from my digital camera. This was probably a pretty exciting day for them... Getting stickers, getting their picture taken, and sharing their English skills.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainOn my way from Aqaba at the southern tip of Jordan to Amman, Jordan's main city. I spent yesterday in Aqaba, Jordan's beach resort town. The snorkeling was fantastic, but the bar scene was again hampered by Ramadan. Aqaba and the Gulf of Aqaba has an interesting and strategic location in the Middle East. The northern tip of the Red Sea terminates here at the apex of four countries. Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Israel, and Egypt are all a stones throw away. As we looked out on the gulf I was struck be the challenge Israel has to protect itself. A patrol boat in the gulf meticulously motors along Israel's small rectangle of marine property. On land Israel's border is carefully fenced and mined protecting it from the Jordanians, the Egyptians, and stray camels that occasionally explode due to false steps in the neutral zone. Sitting at the empty beach-side bar last night all we could think about was how nice it would be to escape Jordan's Ramadanian boredom for the town of Eilat, Israel and what seemed to be a neon party across the bay. At least by comparison. We stayed put, not wanting to test the borders and incur the visa expenses.
Individual | Comments (0) | MainMy last day (hopefully) in the Middle East. I'm going to try to fly home tonight (actually tomorrow morning at 4:00am). I haven't been able to confirm my flights and I don't have a flight home from Holland yet, but I'm going to start the journey. It should be an adventure. I'm looking forward to getting home. I had an incredible trip, but I miss my friends, the culture, my coffee, and I could use a little sushi from Origami. I guess as I get older my tolerance for extended travel is diminishing. Along with my home sickness, I'm getting a bit tired of the food, the music, the call to prayer, and this Ramadan crap. Honestly, I don't know how every Muslim can do it? I doubt the pope would have much luck setting aside an entire month where Catholics couldn't eat, drink, or smoke from dawn to dusk. The Muslims here get up around 3:00am for some food and drink, then go back to bed, then get up again and fast for 12 hours straight. Some Islamic sects don't even allow people to drink their own saliva. People are forced to spit all day. Gross! On top of the "clear" rules of Ramadan, it seems their are several loose, unwritten rules, like no alcohol for anyone anytime during Ramadan, strange business hours, and forced consumption of tequila infused beer (OK, the last one is a stretch and an inside joke). Bottom line is I have a lot of respect for the faithful Islamic people. This wouldn't work anywhere else.
I'm spending my last day in the city of Amman. From what I can tell Amman is a modern city with plenty to do, but little to see. No huge plans, I need to confirm my flights, buy a book, do a little Internet surfing, and catch a cab for the airport... Probably not going to fill the 20 hours I have until my flight leaves... :-(
Yesterday I hit an all time low, I visited the Dead Sea which runs between Jordan and Israel. The Dead Sea sits at 400 meters below sea level and is the lowest point on the Earth's surface. Additionally, the Dead Sea's high salt content makes it "dead" and also makes the water extremely dense. Swimming in the Dead Sea is an interesting experience. You feel like a bobber, unable to force yourself underwater. To me it seemed like I was flying or something. The interesting experience floating on the Dead Sea was enough to counter the disgusting changing room and slimy feeling the water left on your skin... A good shower after my arrival in Amman took care of the negative effects. Supposedly although it was slimy, the Dead Sea properties are good for your skin, like a mineral bath I guess... Since I have loads of time on airplanes over the next day or so I'll stop here. I should be able to throw together some meaningful words as an epilogue to my grand Middle East travels. Until then...
Individual | Comments (0) | MainSitting at Schipol's gate E7 after a slightly interesting experience with security. It didn't help that I threw out all my receipts, decided to return a week early, and visited America's favorite country Syria... My interview lasted about 10 or 15 minutes with two trips to the supervisor. I guess they were able to get past my nervous and fidgety presence and decided to trust me. This time.
I have to admit, I've been a bit nervous flying... A few weeks ago I had this extremely realistic nightmare where I was in one of those big airport buses that shuttle people between gates when this airplane crashed sending an incinerating wave of flames over the bus. I felt myself vaporize and die, I opened my eyes and I was staring into a white light. I remember saying out loud "I'm dead". After a few seconds my vision focused and I was staring at the white, dingy hotel wall. The good thing is that in my dream it appeared there was some (however brief) after-life. The bad thing is that it left me a little wary of flying. Strangely, when I left Istanbul for Damascus a few weeks back I took one of those shuttle buses between gates... My knuckles were white as a gripped the bar to keep my balance. Today during the fight between Amman and Istanbul the turbulence was very bad making me envision the worst. Only one more leg from Amsterdam to Minneapolis, I'm almost home. That is if I get on this flight... I'm standing by for a severely over-sold flight.
Well, like I mentioned yesterday, I thought I would close the books on another travel adventure. As usual, I'll mention a few nice memories and create a few lists. The trip was really great! I saw a lot of ancient ruins, to the point where it started to look like a bunch of rocks. Thankfully I waited until the end of the trip to see Petra, it would have been disappointing to start with Petra then suffer from diminishing returns. I met a lot of very friendly people. Middle Eastern hospitality is hard to beat. That said, the male dominated society combined with women cloaked in black didn't play to my comfort zone. Ramadan was a pain, but it did limit my alcoholism... I have to admit, I wouldn't travel to an Islamic country again during Ramadan. Finally, thankfully no terrorists attacked me and after the stomach flu and my five day cycle of Ciprofloxine I feel confident that I can open my mail when I return home.
On to the lists... I came up with two, the first is the "Top Five Middle East Sites" and the second is "Jeff's Favorite Middle Eastern Foods" (which was tricky since this trip wasn't exactly a tour of culinary excellence).
Well, I think I'm out of journal pages. Thankfully this is my last entry. The trip was great! And, safe! My advice is don't let this terrorism stuff slow you down. Don't fall for the ignorant line and trust the human spirit, it had got us this far. Besides, the odds are in your favor. I heard the following quote before I left the states. It helped my confidence and deserves to be shared:
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." - Helen Keller
OK, one more entry... After missing the cut for my flight I decided to keep a log of my airport adventures, call it "How to Spend Two Days in the Airport" or maybe "Why the Airlines are Losing Money" or how about "Jeff is Really Really Bored". Here it is:
November 26, 2001
11:20am - Arrive on Turkish Airlines flight 1951 from Istanbul.
11:45am - First trip through passport control. Wanted to see if it was possible to get my checked luggage rerouted to my Northwest flight without actually entering Holland. After blank stares my passport was stamped and I entered the country.
11:50am - Retrieved my baggage.
12:15pm - Attempted to check in with a KLM agent with my ticket which was scheduled for a week later. Bad idea, she sent me to ticketing.
12:25pm - Visited KLM ticket counter, explained situation and received a boarding pass without a seat assignment for NWA flight 55 departing at
4:40pm - Received my first update sticker for my flight coupon and canceled my flight for the following week. A bad idea? Maybe...
12:30pm - Security check. Make sure you check that bag with the two knives.
12:40pm - Checked bag. Bag is specially marked by agent in case I there is no room for me on the flight.
12:55pm - Passport control. Leaving already? Now what? Four hours to kill, now what?
12:56pm - Pint of Heineken. OK, maybe it was 12:57.
1:10pm - Lunch... McDonald's, Sbarro, or Paul? Yea, I didn't know what "Paul" was either. Pizza sounds good, and a Heineken.
1:40pm - Duty Free... See, buy, and fly. Absolute Vodka = $11, Dom Peringon = $100, Tag Heuer Watch = $1300, Harley Davidson = $?
2:00pm - Check out books, magazines, CDs, and DVDs. What are all those guys doing? Ah! Dutch porn. The airport, as good of place as any.
2:30pm - Head to gate. Another security check.
3:00pm - Gate E7 . Time for a security interview. Are you traveling alone? Passport and boarding pass please. Where have you been prior to Holland? Syria? Why does your Syrian visa stamp indicate September 26th? I must talk to my supervisor. Who did you travel with in Syria and Jordan? Do you have any proof of travel in Syria and Jordan? Hotel receipts? I must report to my supervisor. Since you packed your bags in Jordan, have they been out of your control? Do you have any electronics in your bags? Please explain. Yes, yes, that's fine, please go...
3:15pm - Please leave your ticket here. We will call you if you get on. Yea right! The 40-some others about to be bumped were not nearly as agreeable as I was.
3:20pm - Wait, read, wait.
3:45pm - Boarding
4:40pm - We are sorry, the flight is full. Please see a KLM ticketing agent for rebooking.
5:00pm - You are on standby for flight 41 tomorrow at 10:45. Oh by the way, it is over booked by 27. You can pickup your bags at carousal 9.
5:20pm - Carousal 9.
5:30pm - Off to tourist information to look for a hotel. Marriot Airport = 350 Guilders, Hyatt Schipol = 400 Guilders, Golden Tulip Downtown = 100 Guilders. Fine. Plus 7 Guilders for service fee, plus 5% city tax. Need a map? 4 Guilders. A train ticket? Round trip? 7 Guilders.
5:59pm - Track 3, Schipol to Central Station.
6:25pm - Tram 24 to Munt Plein, 3 Guilders.
6:50pm - Golden Tulip Hotel, check into room 406.
7:10pm - Nice TV, more porn.
7:20pm - Ah, a shower after about 40 hours.
8:15pm - Irish Pub, a pint of plain, and some Irish stew. A port in a storm.
9:30pm - Sleep
November 26, 2001
6:30am - Alarm. Fucking alarm!
7:00am - Free breakfast. Is that bacon? French toast? Scrambled eggs? Real coffee? No, no, I'm not crying.
7:30am - Tram 4 to Central Station, 3 Guilders.
7:59am - Track 13, Central Station to Schipol.
8:30am - Check in, no security check this time, snuck by. Very pleasant agent, felt sorry for me, didn't do anything to help...
8:40am - Head to gate. Another security check. Quick one this time.
8:45am - Gate E7. Security interview. Are you traveling alone? Passport and boarding pass please. Has your luggage been out of your control since you packed it? You went through security yesterday? You may go.
8:50am - Please leave your ticket here. We will call you with a seat assignment. Yea right.
8:51am - Wait, read, wait.
9:50am - Boarding
10:30am - We are sorry, the flight is full. Please see a KLM agent for rebooking. Only two people bumped. Two people!
10:35am - Rebooking agent. Please go to ticketing. She was very pleasant. She did nothing for me.
10:50am - Take a number. You are on standby for flight 55 to Minneapolis, departs from E7 at 4:40. Oh, by the way, it is over booked by 21 passengers. What about going through Detroit? Sorry sir, it is available, but I cannot reissue a single coupon frequent flyer ticket with two coupons. So, you're saying that even though all the Minneapolis flights are full, and the Amsterdam - Detroit - Minneapolis route is available, I can't go. Correct sir, I can rebook you to Detroit and you can then buy a ticket to Minneapolis. How much it a ticket from Detroit to Minneapolis? $1071. Put me on standby for 4:40. He turned out to be a very pleasant agent, again he did nothing for me.
11:30am - Rebooking agent: What does your bag look like? It will be move to the next flight. Sure it will.
11:40am - Internet Cafe. E-mail to DeNamur and Lisa. Lisa, Don't pick me up at the airport, maybe ever. Love, Jeff
12:00pm - Lunch. Ummm, pizza, and a Heineken.
12:30pm - See, buy, fly. New Moby to CD set, 59 Euros... I'll wait.
1:00pm - Heineken, 7 Guilders.
1:30pm - Heineken.
2:00pm - Heineken.
3:05pm - Stop to take a picture of gate E7.
3:10pm - Gate E7. Security interview. Are you traveling alone? Passport and boarding pass please. You have been here before today. No? You have been asked a lot of questions. No? You may go.
3:15pm - Please leave your ticket here. Oh, you know the procedure I see.
3:16pm - Wait, read, wait.
3:54pm - Boarding.
4:15pm - Amazingly, my name is called, they have a seat for me, 29C, an aisle seat. I'm convinced that the only reason I got on this flight was my calm and cheerful demeanor in the face of an unpleasant situation. Others were not as pleasant and most of them got on before me due to preferable fare basis codes, but today one did not. Hurray!
4:50pm - Departure, I'm finally headed home after almost two months.
6:40pm - Arrive Minneapolis International Airport.
7:10pm - Passport control, Immigration, customs... No problems.
7:35pm - No one here to greet me... No "Welcome Home Jeff" signs, no balloons, no nothing... :-(
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