#10 - Jordan and Syria
BEAR IN MIND THAT THE SPECIAL ADVANTAGE OF VAGABONDING IS THE EXPERIENCE OF NOT REALLY KNOWING WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WHICH YOU CAN OBTAIN AT BARGAIN RATES IN ALL CASES. THIS KIND OF HAPPY UNCERTAINTY KEEPS YOU IN THE QUI VIVE, THE BEST STANCE FOR SEEING AND LEARNING. YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU'LL MEET, WHAT EXPERIENCES YOU'LL HAVE BY STAYING OUT OF THE RUT, WHAT THINGS YOU'LL LEARN THAT AREN'T IN THE GUIDEBOOKS. ...THE CHALLENGES YOU FACE OFFER NO ALTERNATIVE BUT TO COPE WITH THEM. AND IN DOING THAT, YOUR LIFE IS BEING FULLY LIVED.
--Ed Buryn, Vagabonding in Europe and North Africa (1971)
Lawrence of Arabia described Wadi Rum in Seven Pillars of Wisdom as “Vast and Echoing and God-like.” I would describe it simply as some of the most spectacular desert scenery imaginable. About 6 hours south of Amman, the capital of Jordan, the vast and echoing and god-like region of jebels (mountains) and wadi(s) (dried-up river beds) is an extension of the African Rift Valley. Its multi-colored mountains, shifting mounds of desert sand and crystal clear sky provide the imagination a description for Wadi Rum’s awe-inspiring scenery.
Tim and I were waiting on the side of the road after a sixty-minute ride from Aqaba. We had hopped the ferry from Nuweiba to Jordan’s resort city on the Red Sea the day before. Arranging a camping trip through our hostel, we were left 2 kilometers north of the main road to the village of Wadi Rum. Off in the distance we could see the beat up red pickup bouncing along the dusty road to bring us further into the desert.
Through our trusty Arabic phrasebook we learned that driver of the pick-up was Mohammed Zaweidah’s younger brother. Climbing in, we drove 25 minutes only to arrive at a black tent the length of a school bus. The Bedouin tent was a collection of wool rugs supported by poles and open in front. In charade-like-fashion, we were told to relax for a while. I went off to climb a short jagged jebel behind the tent and bask in the absolute stillness of our dramatic surroundings.
The vibrant blue sky contrasted sharply with the white desert floor which was dotted with golden brown rava bushes and green rotum underbrush. From a distance, the jebels appeared to twist and turn in weird angles, worn away by millennia of rain and wind. The air was so clean and crisp the sound of your hiking boots scraping against the rocks seemed almost sacrilege. For the first time since leaving Sub-Saharan Africa, I was enjoying my first moment of personal space.
The serenity lasted no more then 5 minutes.
“Tsssss” My ears picked up the high-pitched whine of a speaker, followed by a cassette tape inserted into the deck.
I cringed. Even after ten relaxing days in Dahab, three weeks in Egypt had us craving solitude.
An instrument that sounded like a guitar rose through the Hilux’s speakers as a man with a Bob-Dylan-sounding voice began to sing in what I only could assume to be Arabic folk music. The desert’s silence and the jebel’s natural acoustics made the sound feel like Saeed Abu Matek was performing live. My displeasure evaporated immediately.
I sat down on the edge of an overhang as the light smell of the campfire drifted upwards and the music pleasantly filled the desert air. Forty minutes later, sipping shai (tea) we made small talk until Mohammed arrived. Apologetic for his late arrival, the jovial 40-year-old quickly prepared a delicious meal of fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and onions on fresh pitas as we learned about his family’s history.
Setting off from the campsite, we bounced around in the back of the pickup until we stopped by a large boulder to view the 5,000-year-old Thamudic and Kufic rock art. The hunting scenes depicted stick figures riding on the backs of camels and were narrated by Hellenist Greek writing. Next we drove past the towering Jebel Umm al-Ishreen, the remains of Lawrence of Arabia’s stone hut and Jebel Rum, which at 1754 meters is the tallest mountain in the region. After 3 hours we arrived at Sikel Berra oasis. Gathering dried rotum branches, we started a small fire to heat up a second pot of ‘Bedouin whiskey’ and toast fresh pitas while snacking on delicious pistachios.
Dropped at our campsite late in the afternoon, we had a few hours to take in the spectacular sunset over Jebel Hubiera. Changing into warmer clothes we prepared for the drop in temperature in the dry desert air. As the sun slowly sunk on the horizon, the sky change from blue to orange to yellow to pink as the smell of roasted chicken teased our stomachs.
Sitting inside the tent, enjoying a delicious dinner, we spoke about Bedouin traditions and customs. While Mohammed had traded his camels for a pickup truck and cellular phone, for the most part, the Bedouin continue to live by the same customs and traditions they have practiced for thousands of years. Our brief, yet fascinating experience with the Bedouin in the dramatic surroundings of Wadi Rum, would become one of the greatest surprises of the trip.
Awaking at daybreak, we caught a local bus headed to Wadi Musa, the village that we would use as a base to explore the legendary city of Petra. Believed to be built as early as the 3rd century BC, the Nabateans were a nomadic tribe from western Arabia. The capital of the Nabatean Kingdom was situated at the intersection of the caravan routes of Gaza, Damascus, Elath (Aqaba), and the Persian Gulf. Using the city’s strategic location, the Nabateans became wealthy by levying safe-passage tolls on passing trade caravans traveling north with spices and slaves from southern Arabia.
Over the next 4 centuries, Petra’s importance and wealth drew the attention of the Romans who had extended its vast empire by conquering Syria and Palestine in 63 BC. Petra held out before eventually being conquered in 106 AD and made part of Arabia Petraea. It remained a major city in the region for the next few centuries until sea-trade routes improved and other cities in the region, most notably Palmyra, took on greater prominence within the empire. In the 7th century, Petra was conquered by the Muslims and later captured by the Crusaders in the 12th century, eventually falling to ruins.
Fearing foreign influences on their traditional way of life, the Bedouins secretly withheld the location of the city for centuries. It wasn’t until a Swiss explorer ‘rediscovered’ the hidden city that was lost to the outside world for almost 700 years. As late as the 1980’s Bedouin families were living in the city as they had been for centuries. However, it wasn’t until Petra's appearance in the final scenes of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade did it become well-known to the outside world. Combined with the nineties tourist boom, Petra was soon seeing as many as 3,000 people per day. Unfortunately for Jordan's tourist industry, the war in Iraq and Israeli-Palestinian conflict has dramatically lowered the number of tourists visiting the remarkable site. Fortunately for our sake, only 300 people had entered the site. We looked at each other grinning ear-to-ear.
An impregnable fortress, conspicuous both for its great natural beauty and for the magnificence of its monuments, you enter through a narrow winding cleft (or siq) in the rock. Al Siq measures 1207 meters in length, varies from 2 to 6 meters in width and has towering walls shooting 200 meters skyward. The smooth walls of the chasm are a mural of wavy colors that blend from brilliant rose red to ash grey to dirty yellow to deep purple. Noticeable along parts of Al Siq are 2000-year-old terracotta pipes; part of the hydraulic systems that pumped water into the city. Like their eventual conquerors, Petra was able to sustain a sophisticated civilization through the development of skillful water management techniques to divert and control water flow into the city.
If Tim and I, two 21st century travelers, were spell-bound by Al Siq’s natural beauty I can not even begin to imagine what this place must have been like in Biblical times for the camel caravans. After spending weeks on end in the harsh Sinai or brutal desert of the Arabian Peninsula it is easy to understand why legends of magical cities hidden within the desert exist.
Walking for over 20 minutes, we arrived at Petra's most famous site, The Treasury (Al-Khazna). Carved directly into the side of the mountain, the rose-red facade glowed brilliantly in the late morning sun. Al-Khazna earned its name from the urn that sits above the towering structure that was believed to hold the city's treasury. The Treasury was actually built, like many structures in Petra, as a funerary monument. Large columns ordained with ornate capitals and sculptures surround an immense doorway on the building's spectacular facade.
Heading northwest, Al Siq opens up into Wadi Musa, a dried river bed. It is at this point you begin to realize how little of this ancient city you have actually seen. As far as the eye can see, ancient structures are carved out of the walls of solid rock. Walking past the 7000-seat theater, carved into the sides of the cliff, you approach Um Tomb, a large tomb carved across from the theater. Entering, you find yourself inside a perfectly symmetrical 18 x 20 meter room whose smooth walls and ceilings look like marble. As the afternoon became early evening, we climbed up an ancient stairway cut into Jebel Umm al'Amr. Rewarded with spectacular views from the windy summit we had an eagle's eye view of the entire massive ancient city of Petra, 500 meters below.
Waking early the next morning, we set out by foot to the main entrance for a second full day inside Petra. Having entered the ancient city through Al Siq the day before, we decided to take another traveler’s recommendation and explore on our own. What began as a 10-meter-wide canyon quickly began to snake around narrowing to 1-meter in places. As the wadi narrowed, it also became deeper. One can begin to understand why the Nabateans were forced to develop an advanced system to divert water from flash floods. Climbing up and down the smoothed-out reddish-blue sandstone walls of the dry creek bed I felt like I was in 2 kilometer long natural waterslide.
After reaching a fork, we headed left and soon found ourselves emerging from the claustrophobic confines of the canyon only to empty into Wadi al-Mataha. This much larger and wider canyon held countless tombs hewn out of solid rock high up on the upper ledges of the cliffs. The elements eroded the outside entrances' once perfectly sharp angles to Salvador-Dali-like-droopy-doorways. Continuing for another 20 minutes we soon found ourselves near the Um Tomb where we had ended our day the day before. En route to Al Deir we passed a 4th century Byzantine church with impressive mosaics, walked through a classic Roman colonnaded street and entered Qasr al-Bint, which at 23 meters is the only free-standing structure in Petra.
Walking up countless steps cut into the jebel, it took us a good 40 minutes of before we made our way to the Monastery. Rounding a bend, we came out beneath the massive 50 by 45 meter structure. If the architectural mastery of the Treasury put Petra on the map, Al Deir’s sheer size bear eloquent testimony to the ancient city’s former power and wealth. Eating lunch on a precipice overlooking the impressive structure, we relished the peace and quiet of being two of a handful of travelers enjoying the Monastery’s brilliance. It was a great way to conclude our two fantastic days in Petra, one of our pre-trip highlights of the Middle East.
While Wadi Rum and Petra had already exceeded our expectations, we were next off to Amman where we got an introduction to the country’s culture, cuisine and customs. As we headed north a cold front came in bringing cold, rainy and raw weather for our stay in Amman, the capital and largest city in the country. While the weather made our rain gear necessary, the hospitality and generosity we were shown during our 4 days in the city was extraordinary. Fortunately for us Nas, a friend from Miami, had returned home for the Christmas holiday only to play tour guide and cultural attaché.
After enjoying Thursday afternoon at a classy arghelieh joint, Nas invited us to his house for a small get-together with 30 of his friends and family. Dropping us off in front of our hostel at about 5 pm he said:
“Head on over at 9:30. Oh yeah - don’t eat anything before you come. We are having mansaf and musakhan, the traditional Jordanian dishes.” Before we could ask what that was, he pulled away.
Arriving 4 ½ hours later, ravished with hunger, we entered Nas’ lovely home only to have his father handing us tall scotches on the rocks.
“Welcome to Jordan! Nas has told me so much about you guys! I hope you are hungry, we have plenty of food. We are having mansaf which is lamb on a bed of rice and pine nuts topped off with cooked yogurt and musakhan a delicious traditional Bedouin meal of chicken, onions and bread. Make yourself at home! Welcome!”
Abu Nasri is from Jordan, living in Amman his entire life with the exception of his college years in Utah where he met Kay, Nas’ mom. Nas’ two sisters attended college in the States although they have both returned to live in Amman with their husbands. About the time the stiff scotch began to kick in Abu Nasri grabbed Tim and I pushing us towards the large round table overflowing with an enormous plate of mansaf.
From there we were left with Nas’ cousins who showed us the proper way to eat the traditional meal. With your left hand behind your back, using the cooked yogurt as a paste, you gather a wad of the yellow rice, pine nuts and grilled lamb and roll it into a ball. Tucking your thumb underneath the circular ball of food you scoop it on top of your thumbnail, raise your hand to your mouth, and as if you were about to flick a marble, roll the wad into your mouth. The food was spectacular.
After 15 minutes, we inhaled a belly-bursting quantity of the heavy meal. At the verge of bursting, Abu Nasri spotted me from across the room.
Walking over with a big smile he proudly stated, "I can see you like the mansaf! Have you tried the musakhan?"
"Well... no. I was going to wait a bit before diving into that". I lied. Even for a broke backpacker I was at my breaking point.
Gently shoving me towards the long rectangular table, Abu Nasri grabbed a plate and began to load the freshly cooked onions and bread on top of a mound of chicken. With a large grin and a wink, he handed me the mountain of food. “Enjoy!" he said and walked off in search of Tim.
"Oh boy... Arabic hospitality!" I shook my head staring at the task in front of me.
I went off in search of Tim, attempting to rescue him from death by musakhan.
Fortunately, I was able to keep Abu Nasri at bay until the desert of halawat al-jiben was brought out (which I politely declined, yet thoroughly devoured). Sitting on the couch painfully stuffed, I smiled as I said thank you to Abu Nasri and Kay. Having lived in Latin America, I am accustomed to cultures where people open their homes and share their food and customs with foreigners. Nevertheless, the hospitality shown by Nas’ family was among the very best I have experienced in all my travels.
At 10 pm the next evening, after an afternoon of exploring Amman, we found ourselves in our makeshift clubbing wardrobe (hiking boots, beige convertible pants, black North Face dry fit shirts) waiting to get into Silk, Amman's hottest nightclub at the 5-star Le Royal Hotel. Nas smoothly spoke with the bouncers and a few minutes later, we were walking into the posh new restaurant/nightclub. Within minutes we spot 20 of Nas’ friends sitting in a lower, private section of the club. Dropping our fleeces next to Armani jackets and Loius Vitton handbags, we grabbed drinks and found ourselves over the next 4 hours dancing alongside beautiful women to the hottest hip hop tracks, smoothest deep house beats and top Arabic tunes with Nas’ closest friends. By the end of the night, we ended blowing our 2-week food budget on booze. I was far from stressed. It is not everyday you find yourself in Jordan, partying until the early morning with good friends.
Leaving Amman behind, we set off for the ancient Roman city of Jerash, a short 60-minute bus ride north of the capital. The city was hidden to the world by the desert until its rediscovery early in the 19th century. The site has been splendidly restored and its visitor center provides abundant information on the site's history. Upon passing through the large oval-shaped forum with many of its columns standing after millennia, you pass into the Cardo, a long columned street ordained with Corinthian capitals. Looking closely one can see ruts worn away from the horse-drawn carts on the ancient city's main avenue. Other highlights in the site included a 15,000 seat hippodrome, 2 theaters one that held up to 5,000 spectators and the Temple of Artemis.
In a taxi to the border that evening, Tim and I looked at each other with big smiles. We had just experienced every backpacker’s goal; finding an unspoiled country rich in customs and traditions, pulsing with thousands of years of history. Due in part to the average American's ignorance of geographical boundaries and a misunderstanding of the country's cultural and political realities leaves the country fairly undiscovered to wide-scale tourism. The country is Western in terms of modern conveniences while it retains a firm grip on its customs, traditions and way of life. The reader may feel that I have overused my allotted superlatives in my description of our 10 days in this amazing Middle Eastern country. That is true however; I must admit that Jordan did not fail to impress. From the tantalizing desert scenery of Wadi Rum to the childlike wonder that is felt walking through Al-Siq to the friendliness and hospitality shown by the Jordanians, makes Jordan an amazing travel destination.
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Heading north from Jerash, we left Jordan only to arrive at the Syrian border post after sunset. Good planning on our part (we obtained a Syrian visa in Cairo) allowed us to pass through the border post quickly and painlessly. Exchanging US dollars for Syrian pounds at a fruit stand, we found ourselves arriving in Bosra at 8:30 pm. While the Roman Theater/Citadel brought us to this remote town in southern Syria, we made the effort to spend the night because of a recommendation in our outdated guidebook. Our Lonely Planet spoke of the most unusual of accommodations, a hostel inside one of the towers of the Citadel.
Upon arriving in the town after dark, we set out in search of the Qasr (castle) only to be approached by a young man on a bicycle who told us in flawless English that the hostel had been shutdown years ago. Remembering what our ‘trusty’ guidebook had told us, the only other accommodation in town was an expensive hotel, we foolishly listened to him. Welcoming us to his shop for some shai we soon learned that we were certainly not the first travelers that had been mislead by the guidebook. Offering the concrete floor of his storeroom (for an exorbitant fee of $20) we had no alternative but take him up on his offer.
Bones achy after a rough night’s sleep, we set off to explore Bosra’s theater. The largest free-standing theater in the Roman world, the entire structure was made from black basalt and is still in use today. In later, more turbulent years, the structure was used as a base and the citadel was built around the theater. After exploring the interior of the citadel and the ruins of the ancient city, we set off by bus for Damascus.
A city of 6 million, Syria’s capital claims to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world with archaeological evidence of a settlement dating as far back as 5000 BC. While much smaller and less crowded than Cairo and far less western and modern than Amman, I was beginning to see both subtle and striking differences among these three Middle Eastern countries. While I found in Egypt, if you do not speak Arabic the majority of the Egyptians you interact with work in the lucrative tourist industry. Lucrative when you consider that 17 percent live below the poverty line. While the per capita income of Jordan is only slightly higher than that of Egypt, traveling through the country it seemed much farther ‘developed’ (in Western terminology). As far as Syria, it had the buzzing Middle Eastern feel we enjoyed in Cairo, was more on par with Egypt economically speaking yet had the feeling of a lingering police state.
The first thing a visitor notices upon arriving are the countless posters, billboards, and bumper stickers of former President Hafez al-Assad and his son Bashar, the current head of state. Both are omnipresent, depicted larger then life. Pictured in military garb, suits or casual clothes, often with a trimmed moustache, sometimes a full beard and other times clean shaven.
ANY COUNTRY WHICH DISPLAYS MORE THAN ONE STATUES OF A LIVING POLITICIAN IS A COUNTRY WHICH IS HEADED FOR TROUBLE.
--Paul Theroux, The Pillars of Hercules
With an iron fist and a notoriously brutal police force, Assad ruled the Soviet puppet-state for over 20 years, its doors only recently opening up to the Western world. For instance, ATM’s were a new addition (although they only worked in Syria’s 2 largest cities), access to Yahoo! was blocked (as well as other internet sites considered too ‘American’) and Coca-Cola could not be found (Canada Dry Cola, on the other hand, could). Prehistoric Pontiac’s, Chevy’s and Ford’s dating to the 50’s drove through the streets with life-size pictures of Assad stuck to the back window. I felt like I was in a police state with a grey, cold, extinct communist feel rather than a cauldron of terror.
During the next few days in Damascus, we explored the Old City and visited the Azem Palace, Umayyad Mosque and National Museum. Damascus’ Old City, with its Arab, Christian and Jewish Quarters, was subtlety reminiscent of Jerusalem, albeit much less developed. While the city has overflowed its defensive walls centuries ago, the Old City has remained intact, fiercely holding on to long followed traditions and customs. Mosques built next door to churches. Fiercely devout Christians of Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant beliefs walk through labyrinthine alleyways past Shi’ite and Sunni Muslims. I learned later that Syria has a large number of denominations of Christianity and sects of Islam due to the country’s strategic location on age-old trade routes. I found this quite fascinating. While the region was the birthplace of Christianity, I did not associate significant Christian populations in the Middle East, even if they are in minority.
The highlight to the Old City was the Umayyad Mosque, which after Mecca and Medina, is possibly the world’s 3rd most important mosque. Originally the spot of a Roman temple to Jupiter and later a basilica dedicated to John the Baptist, the mosque is artistically a masterpiece. Removing your shoes, you walk through an enormous courtyard, only to be struck by the brilliant mosaics covering the interior walls. The work is so detailed the lush lime-green trees, roaring river, homes and mosques appear to be painted. The floor is made from smoothly polished white marble. On the west end, sits the dome of the treasury whose golden mosaics are equally decorative. Inside, the large interior stretches the length of a football (soccer) field. The wooden ceilings are indescribably ornate with detailed geometric patterns blurring the eye. The Corinthian columns supporting the roof tower 4-meters, supporting arches that are support even more columns. The walls are marble, inlaid with precious stones in decorative geometric patterns as 50, perhaps 100, chandeliers dangle from the ceiling illuminating the mosque’s interior. Syrians of all different ages kneel down, peacefully deep in prayer. While I find European cathedrals become quite monotonous after weeks on the road, the Middle East’s greatest mosques never failed to impress.
THIS WILL BE ON YOUR FINAL EXAM.
During the spring semester of our senior year of college Tim and I took a course entitled “Pagans and Christians”. The course’s focus was to study the growth of Christianity in the Roman Empire, from a tiny religious cult to the state religion in 312 AD. An archeology class, we looked at ancient coins, tombs, and monuments to study how the religion’s iconography changed over 6 centuries with styles and traditions of the day.
Incidentally, our final exam consisted of slides we had to identify while explaining their significance in relation to the course. One of the sites was a synagogue located in eastern Syria whose vibrant murals brought to light customs and traditions practiced in the region during the first few centuries AD. Little did I know as I walked into a 12 x 10 meter room in the back of the National Museum did I know I was entering the Dura Europos synagogue. Brought from its desert location 400 kilometers away, the synagogue was completely reconstructed. It was a surreal moment staring at the frescoes that I had learned about 4 years before. While neither of us knew at the time, a college archaeology course would come back to be an invaluable wealth of information during our journey through the Middle East.
Leaving Damascus behind, we headed northwest to the pleasantly warm and sunny desert palm-fringed oasis of Palmyra. Located 150 kilometers from the Iraqi border, Palmyra (‘Greek and Latin for ‘Palm City’) was a prosperous caravan station that became a Roman outpost and later a major city-state within the Roman Empire. Following a tumultuous history, the city fell to obscurity, only to be ‘rediscovered’ by two wealthy merchants from Aleppo in the late 17th century. The town’s barren, remote, desert surroundings make a perfect backdrop for the ancient ruins.
Arriving on the outskirts of town late in the morning, we skirted the exterior of the ruins and found ourselves some lunch as well as ¼ kilo of the famous Palmyran dates. From town we hired a servee (service taxi) to drive us to the impressive funerary towers that stand 10, 13, sometimes 15 meters out of the desert floor. Built during Palmyra’s golden era by affluent members of the city, the larger funerary towers held up to 200 coffins. Heading to the Tower of Elahbel, the best preserved of the structures, we entered through a thick wooden doorway. The interior was elaborately decorated with ornate sculptures and Hellenistic-style frescoes. Climbing the 5 flights of steep stone steps we were blown away as we emerged to an open air roof blessed with fantastic views of the ancient city and surrounding hills. After visiting the Hypogeum of the Three Brothers, we were left by the servee next to Palmyra’s most impressive structure, the Temple of Bel.
The spacious 150 x 100 meter walled courtyard, not to mention the towering cella (temple proper), gives insight not only to how grandiose this entire complex must have once been but is also testament to Palmyra’s ancient power. With the exception of a small puppy, we had the entire place to ourselves. While large parts of the complex had been torn apart when the city was under siege, there are traces of artistic brilliance in the ruins even to the untrained eye. Dating from 32 AD, the porticoes of the cella are cut from a single block of black stone and remain to this day, nearly 2 millennia later, ornately carved. The southern cupola has an acanthus surrounded by geometric patterns while the northern cupola has the busts of 7 men and the signs of the Zodiac. Leaving the Temple of Bel, we passed under the monumental arch and walked 2 ½ kilometers along the cardo only to climb to the top of the 12th century Arabic citadel to catch the sunset.
The next morning we explored the baths, Tetrapylon and Temple of Bel-Shamin in more detail. I was in the ancient theater alone, Tim wandering off in the distance in the agora, when 5 tanned men with beards and galabeyyas came into the open-air building. Speaking in Arabic and taking pictures, the men walked over and began to speak to me. In rough English/Arabic I found out they were from Iraq to which I humbly told them I was an American. At first they were taken aback but they quickly lightened up after I made it apparent I was a vehemently opposed to Bush and the war.
When asked how about the situation in their homeland their faces turned grim. “Many fighting, dangerous.” We chose not to dwell on the wound that threatened to poison the peace between our cultures even further. Setting aside our differences, we spoke in rudimentary Arabic and English about ourselves, our families and what we did for a living. Despite the bitterness and anger I would feel if I was in their position, they showed nothing of the sort. Rather, they asked to take a group picture and upon saying our goodbyes we embraced.
MOST PEOPLE SEE THE WORLD AS A THREATENING PLACE, AND, BECAUSE THEY DO, THE WORLD TURNS OUT, INDEED, TO BE A THREATENING PLACE.
--Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist (1988)
The next destination was Hama, which we used as a base to visit the Dead Cities, Apamia and Krak des Chevaliers. It is also in Hama where we met Mark, an American studying in Cairo for a graduate degree in Middle Eastern Studies. The Dead Cities are a series of ghost towns located between Hama and Aleppo built around the 5th century when the region was a under control of the Byzantine Christian city of Antioch. The first town we visited, Serjilla, sits in a windswept and hilly moorland which brings to mind England, not the Syria. The green rolling hills contrasted with the overcast grey sky bringing a gloomy and eerie feel to the abandoned city. Many of the Dead City’s stone buildings are in perfect shape, the andron (men’s meeting tavern), church and bath house most notably. The existence of a church and bathhouse in such close proximity is further evidence of Syria’s importance on the former trade routes. From Serjilla we continued to another, smaller Dead City (Al-Bara) and finished off the day with visiting the rarely-visited Roman ruins of Apamea.
The following day we were off to the Crusader fortress of Krak des Chevaliers. Qala’at al-Hosn in Arabic, the castle was built by the Knights Hospitalers at the time of the Crusades (1131). Pope Urban II’s intention behind the Crusades was to ‘liberate’ the Holy Land from Muslim control, reestablish Christianity in the region and expand the Church’s power. The Crusaders built Christian outposts, in the form of castles, deep in the heart of the Holy Land. Krak is considered the finest Crusader fortress as well as regarded by historians and travel writers alike as “the finest castle in the world”.
Built with the latest techniques in castle design, Krak was impregnable, never successfully breached. The castle is actually two different structures; the extensive outside fortification wall armed with 13 towers is separated by the second wall and central construction. The two are separated by a deep moat. Entering though the massive main entrance, I spent the better part of 4 hours exploring the 60 x 9 meter stable with its single vaulted ceiling made of stone, labyrinth-like tunnels, and expansive yet silent storage rooms. The lofty, raw and damp dark chambers give the visitor a feel what life was like in the time of the Crusades. Climbing to the Warden’s Tower, the highest point in the Castle, I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the citadel below, the Bekaa valley below and the Mt Lebanon range in the distance.
Saying goodbye to our travel mate and translator, we left Mark as we headed 2 hours north to Aleppo, Syria’s second largest city. A stop on the Orient Express, the city has a long history of being a major trade center. Merchants from as far away as Central Asia, Southern Arabia and Europe would trade their fare in the fascinating Souq. Walking though the maze-like cobblestone streets you are the only tourist around as locals bargain for spices, scarves, shwarma and Syrian blades. Wandering the bustling streets no wider than 10 feet, mini-vans honk their way through as woman covered head to toe with only a slit for their darting eyes would unhurriedly pass by. The Souq’s vaulted stone ceiling blends with the ancient worn wooden doors that open up into medieval-age khans (ancient rectangular storerooms that doubled as accommodation for traveling caravans). Whereas Addis Ababa’s Merkato was the finest market I witnessed in Africa, Aleppo’s Souq was the best we would see in the Middle East.
WE DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR CUSTOMS FULLY TO INTERACT WITH THEM AND LEARN IN THE PROCESS; IT IS MAKING THE EFFORT TO INTERACT WITHOUT KNOWING ALL THE RULES, IMPROVISING CERTAIN SITUATIONS THAT ALLOW US TO GROW.
-- Mary Catherine Bateson, Peripheral Visions
On our last evening in Syria, Tim and I decided to set-aside our Western notion of masculinity and visit a hammam. We headed over to Yalbougha al Nasery, a famous hammam built in 1491 that was later demolished by the Tattars but rebuilt by Prince Seif aldeen Al nasry. Entering the main room we were handed a thin towel to wear around our waist, wooden sandals and a bar of soap. From the main room we walked into a heated room with basins of hot water overflowing onto the tiled floor.
Watching the locals, we each grabbed a copper bowl, sat down next to a basin and drenched ourselves with hot water. After 20 minutes of relaxing and bathing, we headed into the steam room. Entering the hottest sauna imaginable, it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the excessive steam billowing out from the floor. In order to catch my breath, I forced myself to take deep lungfuls of the humid, hot, mint-flavored air. Not lasting 5 minutes, we went to a side room where 2 large men, that could easily double as Stalin, told us to lie down on our stomachs. Over the next agonizing 15 minutes, the 115 kilo (250 pound) mustached man turned me into a human pretzel. After the massage, I headed back to the main room to change back into my clothes and guzzle a 1 ½ liter bottle of mineral water while waiting for Tim. After 25 minutes he finally reemerged with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Are you alright? What have you been doing?” I asked.
“You won’t believe it, but this Syrian father and son called me over after the massage and invited me to have some food. I have been feasting on roasted chicken, spicy peppers and fresh pita in the sauna. They wouldn’t let me go until we finished all the food. I am so stuffed!”
We were about to head back to our hotel when some teenagers in the main room waved of us over. Inviting us to have some of their food, we ended up helping them devour 2 chickens, a large plate of Syrian french fries and rice.
I shook my head. Imagine if you broke out a 24-piece bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken in a sauna in the States? However, what I found even more surprising was the friendliness, hospitableness and generosity shown by the Syrians we had met over the past 2 weeks. Even more remarkable however, was that even after cautiously (and apologetically) mentioning our nationality we were invited for cups of shai, coffee, snacks, sweets, meals, you name it. The Jordanians, Syrians and Iraqi’s we met were genuine, friendly and good-natured who were as fascinated with us as we were with them.
A GOOD RULE OF THUMB, THEN, WHEN WATCHING NEWS COVERAGE OF OTHER COUNTRIES, IS TO THINK ABOUT HOW THE AVERAGE HOLLYWOOD MOVIE EXPORTS VISIONS OF AMERICA TO OTHER COUNTRIES. JUST AS DAY-TO-DAY AMERICAN LIFE IS NOT CHARACTERIZED BY CAR CHASES, GUN BATTLES, AND UNUSUALLY LARGE-BREASTED WOMEN, LIFE OVERSEAS IS NOT POPULATED BY SINISTER OR MELODRAMATIC STEREOTYPES. RATHER, IT IS FULL OF PEOPLE WITH VALUES NOT THAT MUCH DIFFERENT THAN YOUR OWN.
-Rolf Potts, Vagabonding
While landscapes, museums and ruins are compelling, after months on the road they begin to blend together. I find that the most fascinating part of any journey is the people you meet on the road. It if for this reason, running into the Iraqis in Palmyra may be one off the defining moments of my trip. There have been many times I have thought back to moment, thinking about the outcome had the roles been reversed. What would have happened if I had been a Middle Eastern man dressed in my galalbeyya and keffiyhe walking down the street of a rural town in Middle America a month after September 11th? Would the locals be as friendly and ask to pose a picture with me? Interesting isn’t it, how American foreign policy dictates global affairs yet the average American knows very little about the people that are ultimately being affected as a result of our government’s actions?
It is disturbing the current American Presidential administration likens this small Arab state as a distant cousin to the ‘Axis of Evil.’ Granted, there are terrorist organizations within the country but it is no reason to label the entire country as a no-go zone. The spin put on these groups by the Western media is far from just. Despite the IRA’s fight for independence in Ireland, it is not viewed as Christian ‘barbarism’ whereas the political violence witnessed in the Middle East is seen in the West as Muslim fanaticism. I was witnessing first-hand that the picture painted by the Western media (which appeals to the business practices of American foreign policy) is very different from reality.
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I am currently in the Outer Banks on Cape Hatteras (an island off the coast of North Carolina). While far from a cultured, international and exotic destination, I have been able to use the opportunity to transition back to the US, think back on the adventure of a lifetime and pursue another one of my passions, kiteboarding. Taking a position as a kiteboard instructor for Real Kiteboarding (www.realkiteboarding.com), I have been back in the States since late February.
Although my trip has come to an end, the updates have not. Stay tuned for Wanderlust #11 – Lebanon and Turkey, where Tim and I tear up the ski slopes of Faraya, party ‘til dawn at Beirut’s bumpin’ BO18 nightclub and explore the underground cities of Central Anatolia’s Capadoccia.
Stay in touch!
Kind regards,
Dave
davidmlawrence@yahoo.com
For previous updates, check out http://wanderlust.on.journeyfile.com
IN MY CASE, THE EFFORTS FOR THESE YEARS TO LIVE IN THE DRESS OF THE ARABS, AND TO IMITATE THEIR MENTAL FOUNDATION, QUITTED ME OF MY ENGLISH SELF, AND LET ME LOOK AT THE WEST AND ITS CONVENTIONS WITH NEW EYES: THEY DESTROYED IT ALL FOR ME…SOMETIMES THESE SELVES WOULD CONVERSE IN THE VOID; AND THEN MADNESS WAS VERY NEAR, AS I BELIEVE IT WOULD BE NEAR THE MAN WHO COULD SEE THINGS THROUGH THE VEILS AT ONCE OF TWO CUSTOMS, TWO EDUCATIONS, TWO ENVIRONMENTS.
- T.E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom (1922)
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