Damascus and Beyond

Well, after more than three weeks my holiday has come to an end and i’m back at work.

My reporting has been spotty at best, due to my own lazy self and occasional problems with foreign internet capabilities. So i’ll wrap it up from the comfort and familiarity of my own computer.

When we last left our heroine she was in Goreme and had picked up sister from the bus station. We went to dinner at Mehmet’s restaurant, the Local Cafe, where the food is always fresh and tasty. We were visiting with Mehmet when a couple from New Zealand came in and sat down for dinner. Gail recognized them from the tour she had taken that day and we fell into conversation. Rebecca and Toby and already spent a few days in Istanbul and she had fallen under the spell of the carpets. I introduced them to Mehmet who had spent 30 years in the rug business and Rebecca had lots of questions and wanted a recommendation for an honest dealer in Istanbul. He told them to look up his friend Hussein and described the location of his shop, when it dawned on me that he was describing a Hussein I had met and had a date with two years ago. I had already planned to drop in on some of my old friends and thought it might be a place Gail could look for a carpet. Soon after Bekir walked up, and I was happy to see him. He said he had been looking around town for me the day before because he wanted to invite me to a barbeque they had had at his pension the night before. I was sorry to have missed him and he invited us to have breakfast at his hotel the next morning. After a bit he excused himself because he had been walking with some friends but said he would come back.

The next morning we went to the Anatolia for brekkie, which was a much nicer spread than we were used to at our place, the Melek. Fresh fruit and cheese filled borek pastries, and Bekir made me an omelet on request. Afterward he asked us what we wanted to do that day and offered to take us out and about.

He drove us all over that afternoon. First stop was in Urgup at one of the wine tasting places. Something I had always wanted to do there. It was only noon, and a bit early for wine, but we had a taste. We had a delightful afternoon and visited the small formerly Greek village of Mustafapasa. We walked down a dirt road toward some old ruins and we picked walnuts from a tree. Later Bekir hunted down the gatekeeper of an old Greek monastery which we explored, and later he treated us to lunch back in Urgup. We arranged to meet up later and returned to our hotel to freshen up and rest a bit. That evening we had dinner at the Sultan restaurant in town and once again Bekir picked up the dinner tab. We were leaving for Istanbul the next morning and it was sad to leave so soon after just getting reaquainted, but we said goodbye, again, and I sincerely hope I will return.

The next morning our airport shuttle forgot to pick us up and after a moment’s panic we got the hotel guy to drive us the 90 kilometers to Kayseri. We paid $40 for that privilege but a taxi would have cost double. Our hotel guy O, not sure if that’s the spelling, but that’s his name, was not happy, especially after Gail yelled at him the night before because he didn’t get a dead spider out of her bathroom drain. He probably hopes never to see us again.

Arrived Istanbul and glad to be back. After several visits to some hotels, and getting sticker shock at the increase in prices we ended up at the Star Hotel. A no frills place I had stayed at two years earlier, but a great location. We spent the rest of that day walking around the Sultanahmet neighborhood where I showed Gail some of the sights and made suggestions for places she should visit. Since i’ve visited most of the top tourist sights it wasn’t necessary that I see them all again especially since all the prices have gone up so we fell into a routine where she got up early and did sightseeing till noon or so and then we’d meet and do stuff together. Our five days in Istanbul went by very quickly. You think you have all this time and then before you know, it’s over.

Early on we stopped to see Hussein in his new shop which had moved across the street. I noticed right away the ring on the third finger of his left hand but when I asked him what he’d been up to for the past two years he said “oh, nothing.” I had to ask “did you get married?” He had, and had a four month old baby. Gail eventually ended up buying two carpets from him even though it turned out he was not the same Hussein that Mehmet had recommended to us.

We got together with Rebecca and Toby from New Zealand for dinner and since the restaurant was next door to another of my old carpet buddies we went there after dinner and hung out looking at more carpets. Gail hadn’t bought hers yet and found one of interest. We promised we would come back because she wanted to look more and Murat said he would bring more the next day for her to see. We inadvertently made a carpet faux pax the following day when Gail chose the two at Hussein’s. Seeing as how Murat is a nice guy and an acquaintance of mine we felt obligated to tell him and hopefully stop him in time before he made the effort of bringing more for her to see. She was nervous but we went over there anyway. He wasn’t there right away but came in soon hauling a load of carpets. He wasn’t too happy with our news but was gracious and seemed to accept the appology. When we saw Rebecca the following day she told us she had talked to him the day before as well and that he was a bit cross with us. Apparently we should have gone over there and looked at his carpets, saying nothing about the two Gail purchased. She then should have thanked him and said, “sorry, but I’m just not seeing the right thing.” It would have saved face all the way around, but instead the insensitive, but well meaning American clods caused hurt feelings. Now I know.

Found out where Ugur was working when I saw his former boss Suleiyman, and his friend Murat on the street. Gail and I were heading in the direction of the shop where he was now working and as we approached I could see, even with my bad eyes, his expression as we drew near. I wasn’t sure of the reception I would get since we hadn’t corresponded since I saw him two years ago, and because of some drama that had ensued but he seemed really happy to see me. Flirt mode alert. He walked with us to the the Egyptian Spice Market and made his friend at the caviar store give me a good price on my purchase. I saw him a couple of times and enjoyed his company.
So, all things considered it was a good time and inspite of rising prices I still love Turkey. May the fates see me back again someday sooner than later.

Love and Peace
Anita

Okay, I just spent an hour writing the most recent blog and went to publish it and…lost the bastard. Two whole Turkish Lira down the drain. So I guess I’ll just have to repeat everything that has disappeared into the ether. Update. First full day in Goreme I took an armload of laundry down to be washed. Everything but the clothes I had to wear and my underwear which I did not want Yashar, the guy who works at the hotel, to handle. He’s an endearingly goofy guy, who is always joking and laughing about something and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he had got all “teenage boyish” and made some snickering comment about my underpants. He wants me to call him Ushaklar, which I looked up in the dictionary and which means ‘servant boy’. He said “excuse me”, but since I was a boy blondes have always been a “hobby” of mine. Coming from anybody else it might seem tacky but from Yashar it was just funny and kind of cute. He is almost childlike in some ways and it’s hard to believe he has three sons who live in a town called Nigde over an hour from here. He only gets to see them once every couple of weeks or so. That’s not unusual in Turkey. You go where you can find work. Checked out the new leather store on the edge town which seems a bit large and almost slick for Goreme but I am looking for a wallet. Didn’t find one but had a nice long visit with a guy that works there. We talked carpets, not leather and he invited me back to visit. I have not decided if I will go. Being on the edge of town it’s not like I can just stroll by casually. It would be an obvious effort and I feel a little forward going back. After the visit with the leather/carpet guy I decided to visit Bekir, an old friend from my early Turkey days. I did not see him during my last visit and wasn’t even sure if he was still running the Anatolya Pension but I walked up the hill toward his place anyway, feeling a bit apprehensive. Bekir was sleeping when I arrived, trying to recover from some stomach problems. He didn’t seem too surprised to see me and we ended up visiting for several hours. He ended up giving me a ride back to my hotel on his motorcycle. I woke up with gut cramps the next morning and didn’t want to stray too far from the hotel. Not like you can actually stray all that far in Goreme. I can’t figure out what I ate that’s causing this. My stomach hasn’t been the same since the day before I left Aleppo. Usually I have the digestive system of a goat, but I guess all bodies are subject to changes in diet, lifestyle, etc. I decided to amuse myself by doing some hand washing and reading on the terrace. The day had turned windy and cooler and the sky to the west got very dark. Eventually I got bored and hungry and decided to go for some dinner. I almost had an anxious moment when I went to retrieve some money from an ATM. Within seconds of getting my money and card back the screen went black. At that moment it started pouring and an old guy in a kebap kiosk started waving me over to shelter from the rain. I sat in his little kebap stand and drank tea with him while he offered me bits of doner kebap (chicken pieces on a spit), while we tried to communicate. I thought about the hysteria I might be experiencing if the electricity in town had gone off five seconds sooner and my money and cash card had become trapped inside the ATM machine. What lucky timing. I wonder if, when the juice got turned back on, the transaction would be completed and money and card would have appeared on the scene for some lucky passerby to enjoy? Yashar buttonholed me as I was leaving the hotel to go to the bus station that evening. He wanted to come with me and I thought why not. Gail’s bus was about an hour later than expected because of some problem with a broken gate door at the Istanbul airport. When she relayed this to me, unable to fathom why they held up the flight to Kayseri for an hour because of this, I just said “welcome to Turkey” the land of illogical thinkers. Yashar, in all his childlike naivete exclaimed that he thought “I was beautiful, but after meeting my sister he decided she was even more beautiful.” I threated to kick his ass. I wonder if there is the Turkish equivalent for the word “tact” in the dictionary. No matter’, i’ve experienced this type of thing before and chalk it up to cultural differences. Still, he tells me that I make him happy and give him power (whatever that means). He routinely plucks flowers from the hotel bushes and gives them to Gail and I with much fanfare. Yesterday he told us that any guests staying over two days can take advantage of a personal, custom designed tour free from the hotel. We decided to take a couple of hours to do that and drove here and there so Gail could get a look at the scenery. They took us to an upscale carpet showroom where they had displays and demonstrations of the carpet weaving process. Dyes, and weavers and my favorite…the silk extraction. Large bags filled with silk worm cocoons slumped against the wall and we were treated to a demo of how they get the silk off the cocoon. It’s amazing and I could have watched it all day. Difficult to explain here, but it was a highlight for me. The threads are finer than a hair and if completely unraveled they will stretch over a mile and a half from one cocoon. We were both given souvenir cocoons. They are dry and if you shake them you can hear the dead worm rattle inside. After that we had the pleasure of viewing some very fine carpets including the mouthwatering silks. I have decided that if I ever have money I will collect silk carpets like some people collect oil paintings. They are works of art that take highly skilled weavers sometimes years to complete. I did not feel guilty about buying anything because they were expensive carpets and because we had walked by a large pile which the guy had pointed out as having been sold and awaiting delivery to their new homes. Last night we booked a Turkish Night evening with our hotel. It was touristy but an okay way to spend an evening and we have yet to be asked for payment. Gail keeps wondering about this but I figure it will show up on our hotel bill when we check out. I do not think for one minute that they have forgotten, and I wouldn’t let them, and after all, this is Turkey.

Gule Gule, Anita

Well, it’s been a few days, and I believe when we last left our heroine she was flipping out about some imaginary problems regarding a train ticket. Yes, that sounds like me. I am not exactly high strung but I inherited the worry gene from my mother, which causes me to overeact to some situations whether they are warranted or not. I did finally get my train ticket and I am guessing that all the back and forth was due to the fact that they aren’t supposed to release tickets before the day ahead. Fine, fine. Whatever. Anyway, I only really had one day to see Aleppo which was fine with me and I spent it in the Old City Souks. Very authentic, in fact there is only one small section that is actually set aside for tourists, the rest is for the citizens of the city. A lot of what is on offer is stuff you wouldn’t ever be interested in. Household goods, ugly, ugly wedding apparel, cheap “made in Taiwan” toys for the kiddies, hardware, etc. I first entered through the meat section and you can guess what that was like. Fly covered animal parts all over the place, carcases hanging on hooks, really, a good advert for vegitarianism. I walked quickly cause I could feel that gag factor coming on. I found the olive oil section and though I’ve traveled through many olive oil countries i’ve never seen the soap as such a big business. Whole stores and stalls are devoted to selling blocks of olive oil soap and I suppose there is a difference in quality cause they were tagged with different prices. I only guessed at that cause it was in Arabic. Anyway, I bought some that were a little more decorative and less big and blocky and the guy who sold them to me hooked me up with his relative for some carpets. I set myself up for that because I was just looking for an easy way out at that point and Syria has been a certain amount of work. The souks are crowded, so what else is new, and the environment is narrow and twisting and I believe the best word here would be labrynthian (spelling?). Anyway Abdul took me around shopping for the stuff I was interested in, no doubt all the shops were his friends and relatives, and that’s just the way it is. We visited the old hospital where there was a grim section for the “crazy people” as Abdul so delicately put it. He made a lot of money off me that day but he helped me back to my hotel with my packages and since he knew his way around it was just more convenient. Wandering the alleys of the souk and getting lost can be a fun thing to do but I was worn out at that point and my focus was already on leaving for Turkey the next day. When I got back to the Baron I had a beer in the bar and spent a nice time chatting with two Belgians. I had hardly been eating because the possibility of getting sick always nagged at the back of my mind. I was nervous about having stomach problems on a travel day and was being extra careful, but that evening I started feeling queasy. I was also a bit clammy and very, very tired so I skipped dinner all together and went to bed early although I didn’t sleep well. I was looking forward to lying in my bunk on the train all the next day. Got Walid from the Baron to drive me to the station and get me situated. He’s a guide and kind of hangs out at the hotel. Anyway, we got under way and I thought I was the only woman on the car with a bunch of men when I heard some female American voices drifting down the hall. I was still very tired and trying to sleep but was glad to hear it and knew I would find them later. The entire train ride took 10 hours, mostly because of the stops around the border where they attach and unattach cars and we have to go through passport control and immigration stuff. For some reason they turned off the A.C. soon after we left Aleppo and it got so very hot in the car. The men were stripped down to undershirts or bare chested, and some were wearing shorts which they just didn’t do on the streets of the cities. For the first few hours they filled the aisles and kept passing back and forth and every single time they had to look in at me. I would have closed the door but I would have suffocated. I didn’t care at that point. I couldn’t imagine their interest. It’s not like I was a sexy, young tomato in hot pants and a tube top. Still, I think the idea of me in a reclining position was somehow titillating for them. I am pretty sure they would not have had their shirts off if I was a good Muslim girl swaddled up to the eyebrows. Eventually I met the other women. Two Americans on a buying trip. They were getting off at Adana and after a look at the map I concluded it was a better exit point for me because I could leave the train about four hours earlier and get to a hotel at a reasonable hour yet still travel about the same amount of time by bus to Goreme the following day. After ten hours on a hot, stuffy train, seeing the same faces pass back and forth you begin to develop a certain commaraderie and the strangeness and slight tension did lift after a time. I was offered some weird sweet thing which I politely tasted and then ditched in the trash, and later I was given a very welcome cup of cold water. I tagged along with Ruth and Pat to their hotel in Adana and was in bed by 10:30pm, with the A.C. turned up high. Following day I high tailed it to the bus station and was on my way to Goreme. And as usual there was some confusion when I got to Kayseri. I knew I had to change my bus there for Goreme, about an hour away. We pulled into what I thought was the bus station although it looked very devoid of buses or people. Still, I knew I was in Kayseri and got off. Well, I don’t really know what happened but I was not supposed to get out there exactly, but it worked in my favor because the only other bus there just happened to be going to Goreme and the guy from my bus grabbed my bags and kind of ran me over to this bus which was about to leave and I got on. It actually worked out very well, but if it hadn’t been for the quick and alert actions of the bus kid, I am not sure what I would have done. Probably hailed a taxi and payed mucho bongos to get to Goreme. So, to wrap up I have returned to the enchanting village of Goreme, and despite the changes I see and the obvious fact that it is slowly getting spruced up it is still a delight. Last night was comfortably cool and I visited with a couple of old friends and ate at the Local restaurant which is run by my friend Mehmet’s daughter. I had only noticed that my appetite had returned on the bus to Kayseri when the character in my book was eating a cheese and pickle sandwich and I thought “mmm, that sounds good”. The food is always very fresh and good at the Local, although the prices have certainly gone up. There are actually a couple of things on the menu for 15 YTL. About $12. My glass of wine was about $4.50, which is up about $1.50. Anyway, today I am doing nothing. Walking around the town a bit, having my clothes laundered. Don’t know really. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet and the fact that when I crossed the main road through town earlier, there was a moment or two where there were no cars. Good to be back.

Anita

Well, I think I have managed to ratchet down my stress level a few notches since I at least have my passport back in my possession. If anybody out there can tell me why exactly getting a train ticket can prove so difficult I would love to hear it? This is how I spent the past two days. Going twice to the station with one of the non English speaking hotel guys who the reception lady refers to as “the boy”, he’s probably my age, and sending “the boy” once on his own and still I have no ticket in hand. I reluctantly let him take my passort this last time while I paced, fretted and chain smoked back at the Hotel Baron, waiting and waiting and wanting only to scream into my pillow. My imagination running wild while I envisioned him disappearing with my passport to sell on the black market. Anyway, eventually he returned and I do susposedly have a reservation for the train to Turkey on Tuesday morning. I really hope this works. Apparently there is only one human in the entire universe who can sell me this ticket and he seems to make his own schedule and is never there when “the boy” goes to buy the fucking ticket. I wonder, pray tell, why one of the other ticket guys can’t do it? Any ideas? So I’ve pretty much wasted the past few days sitting around the hotel worrying about this and as a result I just want to leave the country and go on to the much more organized Turks. I suppose a more Zen like attitude may have helped, perhaps I should have shrugged, chanted Om and gone off to shop in the souk and not worried about the ticket. But I didn’t Blanche. There is a price to pay when traveling in non touristic countries. And there are not many tourists here. And even among them I feel I am a bit of an unusual case. Single female, middle aged, non Arabic speaking. I see the slight look of confusion flit across faces when I mention these things. I can see their minds working, wondering just why I am here. Always I am asked where I am from and I say American even though I don’t want to and everyone says “you are welcome” but am I really? One funny little man claimed that we were great friends because he was a Kurd and he wanted to hang with me and take me all over the old city of Damascus. He truly seemed excited and I felt kind of bad but I had to tell him “no thanks”. He was just a wee bit weird and I just didn’t want the company. I think my expectations were very high based on the consistent glowing reviews from the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree website. Adjectives like warm, friendly, hospitable, helpful, ran through my head until I realized I just wasn’t feelin’ the love so much. More accurately the Syrian’s are just people. Some are very friendly and have been helpful, mostly they just look at me with no expression. I don’t feel they can compare with my beloved Turks who I feel are much friendlier. Maybe it’s just my own personal experience. Maybe it’s my hair. I haven’t been able to do a thing with it. This country puts the Urb in urban. I have never seen the likes of this traffic and the way they drive and what nerve it takes to cross a street. I would veer off the main drag but don’t want to be hopelessly lost. Last night as I plunged through a mini traffic jam to get across the street to my hotel this asshole actually tapped my leg as I passed in front of his car. I don’t know if it was deliberate. Everyone just steps out into the street to get across and amazingly they seem to manage it just fine and without looking the least bit flustered. Wee tots without an adult in sight play by the side of the road in villages as cars whiz by overtaking, horns blaring, routinely turning a two lane road into three. The patience required to walk down a busy street, and they are always busy, I don’t think these people have homes as they are always out, is incredible. Anybody who know me knows I walk fast and now I am forced to shuffle and be constantly on the look out for a break in the human traffic in order to get ahead. Chicago at it’s worse is a cake walk in comparison.

I just had to shove a cockroach off the computer table. I think they are here for the pastry shop downstairs. I will not be getting any sweets to go. Before I got here I spent three days In Hama taking tours in the area. There are some really old and well preserved sights around here and sometimes there is nobody else there. On my tour to Palmyra I got taken advantage of by a local guide. I thought he was part of the package but found out later he was not. Also, I am sure he overcharged me. Abdul, my driver was a sweetie though and stopped at some ladies house so I could tinkle and afterward she offered us tea. We sat out in front of her house and I noticed the tea table looked suspiciously like a chunk of ancient column. I pointed it out and though nobody spoke English they both understood and laughed. I think anybody with a pick up truck or large car trunk and a couple of beefy guys could have their own ancient column tea table as this stuff is all over the ancient ruin sights and there are no fences or anything. I rode a camel at Palmyra and really enjoyed the brief ride on my handsome white steed. 1950’s era cars are everywhere and for my day trip to the Dead Cities and St. Simon’s we had one. The shocks weren’t the best on the bumpy roads and it was hot, and my companion Myra wasn’t feeling well as she was getting over being sick. Many of the guests at my hotel in Hama were suffering with stomach problems. Poor things. One guy was in bed for three days. Abdullah from the Riad Hotel said they got sick in Palmyra. Apparently Palmyra has a bad rep with the locals for scam artists and unhygienic cooking practices. I was so glad he told me not to eat anything there. I accidentally celebrated my birthday on the ninth and brought a bottle of wine back to the hotel which I shared with Abdullah and his parrot Abuddah. The saucy wench liked the stuff. Abdullah offered me some Swiss “chocolate” that he recieved for his own birthday a few days earlier. It was wrapped in saran wrap and I cut off a piece and popped it in my mouth only to realize it was soap. I thought it looked a little weird. Abdullah was so apologetic, but it was funny. He kept saying over and over “I thought it was chocolate, I put it in the refrigerator.”

Well, I think I will say cheery bye. Thanks for all the comments from those who chose to do so. It’s nice to know that people are reading and nice to hear from friends when you are alone in a very foreign country. I guess I will now go out and get some dinner and hopefully I will not be served everything that is on hand in the kitchen. Some restaurants don’t have a menu and just tell me what they think I should have. Yesterday the reception lady said to tell them not too much food, and I did, but I got too much food. It was delicious, but I couldn’t eat it all and I hate to waste. I took the leftover wine, water, and fruit and also asked for the box of kleenex which doubles for napkins in this country. Ever try to wipe sticky, greasy fingers with kleenex?

Bye for now, with love, Anita

P.S. Did I mention I am sleeping in Charles Lindburgh’s room at the Baron? Lots of folks stayed here over the years. It is my kind of place. It really looks like it hasn’t changed at all since at least the 30’s. It’s almost 100 years old. Threadbare, lumpy couch cushions and I cracked up at the dusty travel adverts that are hanging behind the bar. Nobody is trying to decorate vintage, it’s just that way.

Salaam friends and family. Tomorrow is my birthday and sadly, sniff, sniff, I will probably be celebrating alone. And a monumental birthday at that. My last year before official old ladyhood. Anyway, i’m now in Hama. Not much here except for the very cool Nourias, which are antique water wheels on the river that runs through town. They look good but sound better. Kind of like a moaning, groaning sound. A little spooky actually. I have read that some date back to the 14th century but I don’t see how the wood could actually last that long. It’s confusing because a lot of the old stuff is considered from this century or that and then you find out it’s been restored or something, so who knows? I’ve had some nice encounters here and guardian angels who pop up when I need them. My last day in Damascus I met a Canadian family who invited me to hang around with them. The dad was originally from Damascus and as a result I got to experience his excitement at showing his daughters around and revisiting places he hasn’t been since he left thirty years ago. Also got to see inside one of the houses when we went for tea at his friend’s house. They wanted me to come with them for what sounded like a fabulous yearly Christian celebration in Sadniya (they are Orthadox), but they were spending the night and I had to move on. They were wonderful and we really clicked. When I was on the bus to Hama yesterday I got off for a cigarette in Homs and spied my bag sitting on the sidewalk. It turned out they said I was supposed to get off there. I wasn’t. The only other westerner on the bus was a Belgian woman who had experience in Syria and spoke a bit of Arabic. She immediately came to my aid and insisted they let me stay on the bus and that I was a tourist and my needs should come ahead of the locals. When they finally shrugged and agreed she told me they could be manipulated. A small thing, but another lesson learned. When ordering bus tickets speak very clearly. Homs and Hama are similar. See? The people at the Riad are very nice and I’ve decided to book day trips from here. Even though it’s costing me a lot of money, I feel it’s worth it. Will I ever return? Might as well splash out. Food is dirt cheap and the portions are big. Reminds me of home. Anyway, I guess I hired a private car and driver to take me to the ruins at Palmyra. When we got there my driver started talking to some guy who then introduced himself and said he’d get my ticket. Long story short, I accidently ended up having a guide for four hours thinking he was part of the tour. He wasn’t. I had to pay him separately. I was not happy. Built up a head of steam and had thoughts of cancelling the other tours and maybe even changing hotels. My driver spoke hardly any English but when I asked him about a toilet on the ride home he drove to a nearby house and asked this woman if I could use her facilities. He didn’t know her. So I peed in the hole and took a quick peek around and then we had tea . When I returned I told friendly and charming Abdullah about the tour. He was angry (not at me) and sorry and we hashed it out and it was a bad mistake. He told me he gave me this guidebook so I wouldn’t have to have a guide and I didn’t realize it, and oh well. So, i’m still taking the tours that I planned but I will now know to ask questions and don’t assume anything. They are threatening to call the guy who was my guide and give him a piece of their minds. As if it will do any good. I should have said to guide boy that all his touching of me should serve as payment. I might not have minded so much if he would have been young and handsome. Ha Ha! Wish me luck and no more uncomfortable encounters.

Otherwise all is well, i’m fine. Wached Austin Powers on TV last night. I wonder what’s on tonight? I have a beer upstairs in my fridge so I’ll party down, as much as one can party down with one beer.

Love, Anita

Hello all, I have arrived. This is my second full day here and it’s a bit sensory overload. Arrived at my hotel at 4:00 am Saturday and headed for the old city and the souks that afternoon. So many people, so much traffic. The old city is amazing, it goes on an on, twisting turning streets, and inticing little lanes that go off in all directions. So far I haven’t had the nerve to explore beyond the main streets. Had a bit of a scare when I tried the ATM and my card was rejected. I had limited funds and worried that I would run out, or worse, wouldn’t be able to shop. But Oh Happy Day, today I tried again when I saw an ATM that displayed the Cirrus logo. Got the cash, yeah! Good thing too otherwise I might have had to slink out of a nice restaurant this evening when I opening the menu and saw no prices. But empowered with my new wad of thousands I decided not to fret. Had wine, steak and salad and then braced for the bill. It was $12. Had a fun, unexpected evening yesterday when the guy I bought postcards from invited me for tea at his guest house. I thought he said it was $200 a night and thought “wow, it must be really, really swank, the sign on his carpet shop advertised a 7 room house and I thought, well, that explains the price.” It didn’t look like much and when he opened the street door into a courtyard you can imagine my confusion because it was a dump. Turns out it was $200 a month and he had a group of German, Arabic language students staying. There was a little impromtu party on the roof and I got to meet all the students staying there. When it turned midnight I knew I wasn’t walking back to my hotel so Basil got me a taxi for $1.00. That’s double the price it should have been but I didn’t care. The ensuing ride can only be experienced because there are no words to explain. The best I can do is…amusement park thrill ride. I thought the Turks were barking mad behind the wheel but they are rank amatuers compared to the Syrians. Walking across streets can be a challenge but I plunge ahead. I think the combo offense/defense approach is best and the willingness to try to adapt to the hope that they “will” stop if you step out in front of them. Old men with canes, women with baby strollers, no matter. If you don’t just walk you will stay on the sidewalk forever. I rejoice when I see there is a traffic light because then I know that most of the cars should stop. Went to the Natural History museum today and then to the Handicraft market. Had a bit of a misunderstanding in a textile shop and had to walk out. Lesson learned. Hopefully. Tomorrow I have plans with a women I met through the Thorn Tree website. Her name is Mariyam and she is an ethnic Moroccan from Belgium. She speaks Arabic and we’re going to the Bosra archeological ruin tomorrow so it’s early to bed for me. Haven’t been sleeping well. I think my bio clock is still messed up but I have not had any jet lag. So, I am conflicted. Basil invited me back to his hostel tonight for a party and I wanted to go but if I do then I can only stay for a wee bit. I may just stop by and say hi. I have to try and sleep before 3:00 am if I want to get up at 7:00 am. So many impressions, sights, smells, sounds even. This is a different world. There are so many people on the busier streets that it is indeed claustrophobic and it’s not exactly what you would call polite society. It’s not as if people are rude they just press on, walk around, whatever. I think it’s from living in such a crowded place. I thought I was a purposeful and fast walker in Chicago, but this is like playing dodge ’em. Well, that’s all for now. Lot’s more to say though. Keep the comments coming.

I am confused by this site. I am curious if i’ll be able to get it to work properly. Today is Monday, which means I have only three more days before I leave. I wish I was leaving later than 4:30 pm. What a stupid time. That means I have to try and go to sleep for at least 5 or 6 hours at around 7:00 pm Chicago time. I hope the “mother’s little helper” that Keith gave me will work. I tried one out last Friday night and really couldn’t feel any difference. I still woke up at least twice during the course of the night. But, that will have to do because i’m too uncertain about taking more. I will want to get up and walk on my own when we get to Amsterdam. I wonder if i’ll have time to see the world’s biggest mall? I kind of hope not cause I really don’t need to do any shopping before vacation even starts. Anyway, I think it’s a pretty quick turn around. I will have plenty O time to do whatever when we get to Istanbul. I plan to buy my visa and hopefully check my bag so I can go into the city for a while. I want to try the new metro and see how well it works. I figure i’ll just go to some new neighborhood and wander around to kill some time before my 11:30 pm boarding for Damascus. And speaking of 11:30 pm boarding times. Whose brainy idea was that? I understand that most or maybe all flights from Europe get in in the midle of the night. So, the airport might be hoppin’ at 1:30 am. The only advantage I see is that the drive to the hotel should be quick. I can’t imagine sitting in hot, polluted air, stuck in what sounds like really bad traffic conjestion, after traveling for almost twenty four hours. Maybe I should consider some “wake me up pills” in addition to the “sleep tight” ones. Or maybe I’ll just rely on the local java. That stuff puts lead in your pencil.

Still messing around with this blog thing. I have no idea if I’ll even be able to get to it in Syria so if you log on and don’t see anything for days and days, don’t just assume i’ve been sold into white slavery and am spending my days bellydancing (badly) for the local pasha or sultan or whatever they have there.

Thanks to Demian and Mike for the comments. Keep ’em coming.

Why am I going to Syria? Hmmm? I needed a companion country for my ninth trip to Turkey and well, it was in the neighborhood. Also, it fit the bill on other fronts. I like the vibe from middle eastern culture and Syria seems to have plenty to offer travelers at reasonable rates. I am spoiled. I may never be able to visit the western lands of the Euro again, unless somebody pays my way. Syria has not been overdeveloped or over visited and this appeals. This will probably change in the near future as more and more people seek authentic travel experiences away from the tourist ruts. I am a little afraid to return to Turkey for this exact reason. It is almost ten years since my first visit and I was surprised at the changes the last time I was there. And by all accounts I feel I will see even more changes this next trip and this worries me. I know I’m selfish, but I want to keep Turkey all to myself.