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Earlier in April
May More Ramblings
April 25, 2000:
SYRIA: Well. I had planned on
witting up a very detailed introduction of my introduction to
the country of Syria but the days just slipped by. I headed off
early (11am) from the southern Turkish town of Antakya, swept
through the Turkish/Syrian border with no problems (I was one
of three passengers on a large double decker bus) and arrived
in Allepo, a completely different world, by 2pm. A very friendly
fellow named Kemal who kept showing me pictures of his two daughters
and giving me potato chips told me a little about Syria as we
rode sitting in the front of the bus. "It's very difficult
to get anything like this in Syria," Kemal said as he stuffed
a handful of chips into his mouth. "My girls, I called them
from Antakya and asked them what they wanted. 'Anything to eat
from Turkey' they told me. 'Anything.'" I looked over at
the empty seat beside Kemal to see not one or two but five large
plastic bags full of brand name food items. And, after being
in Syria for a week and a half, I can see why those girls craved
those Dorritos.
(Now I know you all haven't
seen as many castles as I have as of late, and personally I'm
getting a little sick of "old rocks." But I must admit
that this Crusader castle high in the Syrian hills is impressive...)
(...The day I visited the
wind swept the clouds away and you could see to the ocean. Massive
reconstruction has been done to the Crac since it was built in
the 1200s and you can see signs of the various rulers...
...For example, in the outer
walls you can see where a mosque was turned into a stable from
the small holes burrowed into the side of the walls -- a tool
used to tie horses, camels and any other type of livestock up.)
We sat in silence for a bit until a sleek black BMW buzzed
past. "I bet you didn't know that cars are very expensive
in Syria." I shook my head no. "How expensive are they?"
I asked. "Well, can you see that old Dodge pick-up truck
next to that mud house?" and he pointed at what looked like
something trying to be a car but was too tired and rusted out
to pass. "20,000 dollars easily." Kemal explained that
the government of Syria kept tight restrictions on the importation
of cars into the country to the point that even a 20 year old
pile of "can you say crap?" was worth decades of savings.
And, having seen one large city and a few smaller ones, I
can see just how far behind Syria is. Scattered and few computers
grace the bigger towns with almost no ability to connect to the
World Wide Web. Power outtages and water pressure failer is previlant.
And, the sanitation, although much better than India, is poor.
But stepping back you see how well the country is running. The
paper trail here is incredible and records are kept from every
transaction. Syria also happens to have one of the better education
systems I have seen along my trip. More women (especially the
covered women) here than any other coutry I've visited have come
up to speak with me. Even CNN and BBC can be watched without
the censorship so prevalent in many other aspects of the country.
So, although Syria seems to be a very closed-off place, lagging
behind its Arab counter-parts, it's actually just slipping slowly
behind the modernization of the 21st century, easing into the
information age.
(Pictures -Hama is the site of one of
modern Syria's most brutal revolts but the city itself shows
little evidence of the murders of somewhere between 8 to 20 thousand
lives. The ancient Norias, or water wheels, still gently
spin as the river slides through the town...
...And people bathe regularly
in the public hamams. This one in particular struck me
as quite funny. I wonder if the Ottomans had anything to do with
the building of it?...
...Spring brought out the
shoppers to the annual Spring festival. Washing machines and
soap inter-mixed with clothing and shwarma sellers. The
festival carried on 24 hours a day for two weeks. It was quite
the place to be; One night I partook in the celebration by dancing
with a Lebanese talk show host, and winning a boom box and electric
piano on national TV.)
April 27, 2000:
A big merhaba for everyone from the land of Syria.
I sit presently in the capital, one of the oldest continuously
lived-in cities of the world, Damascus. The old pension that
I'm staying in occupies a small corner of an alley in the outskirts
of the old city that UNESCO declared a world heritage spot. Most
of the housing dates back to the early Ottoman times. Green vines
cover the leaning white-plastered buildings and song birds sing
from their little wooden cages. I've spent days taking in the
atomostphere the city presents. Syria, being one of the most
closed-off Arabian countries also happens to be one of the most
benevolent. Iraqi, Sudanese, Ethiopian, Kurd and Armenian refugees
all come to Damascus seeking asylum. It adds to the crossroads
feeling that held it in such importance over the years. This
place just drips history. You can go see the train station where
the Muslim pilgrimage Haj once began, and where T E Lawrence
set out for Mecca. Or you can go walking through the souqs and
watch the daily life of a Damascene.
From those I've talked to it looks like Syria is moving slowly
towards opening up. The internet is making it's debut (a tech
fair sponsored by none other than Mr Gates just wrapped up its
week long exhibition). Modern fashions grace the windows of international
clothing stores. And, if you know the right people, you can even
get a Coke and a Snickers. I have conflicting ideas about these
new products floating into the country. It's nice to see a place
still untouched by the Big Arches. But then you talk with the
people who are very frustrated with the pace which they're forced
to keep. "All we want is choice," said the son of the
pensioner in Allepo who currently works as a computer consultant
in Syria but was educated in Lebanon. "We don't yet have
the ability to think outside." I wasn't sure what he meant,
he was a bit of a self-declared poet, so I left it at that. Then
the musical notes of a little song came in through the window.
"What is that?" I asked, the ditty being somewhat catchy.
I thought maybe it was the sound of the ice cream truck. "That
is the sound of a car backing up." That's a lot better
than loud beeping, I thought, how nice. The country
seemed so self-sufficient that the little song had a nice ascetical
quality to it. "That song is the Chinese national anthem."
So now, sitting amongst the vines and the song birds with
the breeze floating up the twisting alleys, I can hear the Chinese
national anthem playing itself silly throughout the city. You
get the feeling that everyone is trying to conquer Damascus just
like they have been for centuries.
April 30, 2000:
Hello everyone! I've been in a whirl of activity
since I came to Syria. I've met more travelers through this country
than any other to date in the short two weeks I've been here.
Damascus is great. It beats to its own rhythm. I have decided
that I'll take the first bus out of Syria on the 2nd and look
around Lebanon for a bit. Damascus being as nice as it is I'll
swing back here again on my way to Jordan. "You must come
back to Syria." said the little clerk behind his desk in
my pension. "You have Syria in your blood." I didn't
tell him that I also happened to have it all over my clothes
and in my hair from the latest sand storm that swept through
the city. "Okay." I said and booked a room for my return.
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