Refragging Davey (he's not wavy!)

Well, I have yet to really write my Lebanon reports and have been in Jordan some days... arriving and just beginning to really look around outside of Amman. The land is very powerful here! The highlights are the very captivating flowers... which I have yet to make essences of!

I have now put up my first Syrian photos on flicker here are some of the highlights from that set.

huh, I checked out the number of views on that upload already... and the photos of the horny donkeys has five views, while all the others have 0 or 1 views!

So, folks, here are the horny donkeys for your viewing pleasure!



And here are two photos of Apamea!






and an ancient water goddess for good measure... (this is actually one of the oldest statues in existence as I recall!)

Syria as Superpower

Apart from that "Che Guevara" tent in Aleppo, I have not come across any whiff of anything slightly jihadist or or Al-Qeada-ish at all here. Not that it doesn't exist... but there is no way you would ever see anyone with an Osama bin Laden picture in their shop or anywhere in fact... and that is the propoganda we are fed.

Apparently, it is very common for Americans to come here and expect to see this sort of evil darkly cloaked nation with terrorist training camps around every corner, because this is what the prevailing propoganda about Syria says it is like!

And then just find this place where the people are really nice and seem apolitical for the most part, and go about their life in a simple and clear way - sure, not in a super slick way. But at least, they haven't sold out to the global capitalistic borg of consumerism and appear to have a strong collective and individual focus on the inner life.

They are just not very materialistic people it seemed to me. Although Hane was interested in my ipod, when I told him he could get one on ebay and how he could use ebay in Syria, he just wasn't interested.

I talked to a hip (in the sense of up to date looking!) looking young man who said his mother was an animal vet in Australia. I said you should go visit, and he said he wasn't interested. He was something to the effect of that he was quite happy in Syria thank you very much!

Through Hane, I met a few switched on young guys, and the impression I had of them, was that they were simply very switched on, beautiful young guys. In many respects radiated a great deal more of a clear and vibrant sense of character than the majority of the "too cool for school" or "valley girl/boy" young people you meet in the west. 60% of Syria's population is under 25, so it is very much a young person's country.

And I saw signs of rebellion from the dominant paradigm too... I remember once I saw this teenage girl dressed in a purple suit who looked like a dandy! The strange thing was I saw her crossing the road in a town in the middle of the desert in the middle of the day. I now just wish I had stopped and asked her if I could take her photo!

So I think this is what is dangerous, when places like the middle east are depersonalised and the people there are stereotyped and become not quite human, just one dimensional, rabid towel heads.

This is what Hitler did to the Jews, with these images the nazi's pushed of the sneaky, swarthy hook nosed miser.

These days, I think subtlety and unsubtley, the prevailing stereotype in the west is of these very swarthy, super angry people, waving machine guns, ready to blow things up and commit terrorist acts for the sake of their religion.

And in this case, these sorts of stereotypes I think allow injustices to occur, because then the people involved become less than human in the abusers eyes. We only know the extremists in their extreme mode.

This is obviously a way of distancing oneself from the humanity, and generalising into flat people who are actually not people... who are different from "US"... and I think that is historically, largely a British innovation.

When the reality is, the arabs are generally very peaceful people. The men count their prayer beads like buddhist monks. Road rage or anything like it doesn't seem to exist. Generally, it seems to be part of the culture, to want to do right by other people.

I think the way to really defeat this is to see past the stereotypes - positive and negative and focus on the realities of the people and how they live.

When you think of Syria... what do you think of?

Now, for me, I think of this multidimensional panorma of humanity I met there... which is very different from any humanity I have ever met... and I couldn't say I felt they were apart from me, or very different at all. They felt more near to me than far, in many ways, more similar than different - in that this culture has allowed the development of certain facets of humanity which I did know of, which I began to perceive.

Even though this may sound trite, I felt like people were seeing me as part of their greater family and that I was one of them now - and that was a boon. At times, I felt them to be more extra-terrestrial than terrestrial, in that, they were not at all dreary or even a known quantity in an earthly sense.

Everywhere you go, people would say, "welcome, welcome!"... anyone and everyone would go out of their way to help me, because that is what people largely do there.

I was rarely a stranger, and people only welcomed me.

I regret not accepting tea from an obviously kind and well educated man in a shop in Palmyra, he really wasn't interested in selling me anything. (and I bought something anyway) And continually, I would see the coldness and distance which is just the norm in western life, and also in myself. And also, I would see it in other westerners, who would never say hello when I passed them or just muttered something and stared ahead, trying to avoid you, looking typically ashen faced and like they continually dwelled on the bad year for them, that was 1991.

Syrians seem to live like people in a big village. It seems that even in the big cities, that people like to know each other and I have never experienced this sense of community in any other country I have been to. I met a French woman who worked for the French Embassy in Aleppo for two years and she just swooned about her time there.

Syria is not a democracy in its strictest sense. But I tend to think what they have here is something quite valuable. Bashar is a leader who everyone I spoke to, thinks is great. They really do love Bashar. Even young people (like Hane's cousin) put stencils of a "cool" Bashar wearing aviator sunglasses on their car windows.

In fact, Bashar and his wife are almost an advertisement for almost randomly picking out two bright professional people and putting them in charge of a country! Rather than a system where the power hungry professional weasel is voted in, after compromise after compromise to his party and voters.

It seems that Bashar and his wife, have quite some power to make the reforms and do what they please, for the most part and the people oblidge. There wasn't even a mobile phone network or the internet here in 2000 when he came to power. Now, all that is everywhere.

I read an interview with Bashirs wife, Asma Al-Assad, who is a British born Syrian, who used to be a merchant banker, believe it or not. Everything she says is just incredibly articulate and spot on - even somewhat radical in its progressive and forward thinking nature.

From the photos, you can see she is this very beautiful and graceful person, and she is very active in spearheading changes around the country, especially in regards to women's issues.

Strangely enough, she probably knows more about international finance and such than her husband, who never finished his eye doctor training in London before he was called back to Syria, to become president at 34!

So I think Syria is in good hands. Bashar is not like his father, who seems like a bit of a hard lined tyrant, but remember, this is a place where all the religious factions are not at each other throat and they all seem to tolerate each other.

As I write this, I find out today Washington is releasing photos of what they say is a nuclear development facility which the Israeli's bombed, with a before and after photo.

It looks like an empty military building like the Syrians say rather than anything as advanced as a nuclear power station. I have researched into this a bit, and all the relevant say this is all patently ridiculous for MANY reasons.

The American's are alledging that Syria is developing Nuclear weapons with help from North Korea, without proffering any evidence at all.

And all this is just a few days after Jimmy Carter says that America and other countries must engage with Syria if they want to have an effective peace process.

So I think this is really some form of cunning anti-diplomacy... which can only led to more misunderstanding and confusion, and also help to further demonise America in the middle east, which can only worsen their plight and effectively castrate any influence or sway they may have.

Force is not a real influence. It is only this immediate thing which has no influence in and of itself, except to create counter-force. Force does not inspire any proud people to just surrender to it, unless they absolutely have to and then they will maintain internal resistance.

And that state, of anyone having to surrender to absolute force, is not a healthy state of affairs, which can only lead to trouble (which we witness in the middle east!)

At least in Iraq, some of the Allied commanders and soldiers on the ground are having to learn that the only way to effectively proceed is to win the hearts and minds of the local people.

This applies to the Israeli's too...I feel that sooner or later if they keep using miltary force, and create more and more enemies, as the that their "enemy" is going to bite back. There is no way to "win" in these sorts of situations.

All this warfare is only going to inspire more warfare, and more and more people to get onto the bandwagon of wanting the jewish state destroyed.

The American and Israeli seem to have the philosophy of an eye for 1,000 eyes and a tooth for 100,000 teeth. And that is no real protection... and will only makes matters worse for all I would have thought.

In 10-100 years, every secondary student may have the ability to create nuclear weapons... in a thousand years, it is almost certain. So if the human species wants to continue, we have to begin living as if any one of us has the power to press the button.

Really, I feel the only solution to all this is a human and humanitarian solution. The only peace is in the heart and in the mind. At the moment, the hearts and minds of anyone in the middle east is not really being addressed by those who would have enough influence to influence them in some kind of obviously constructive and positive way.

Regardless of all this political stuff, I really do think Syria is a great place to experience a pure, but tolerant muslim country, relatively untainted by western values.

The food is supurb. The worst food I had was actually at the supposedly best restaurant in Aleppo! The next day I ate some little pizza things for 1/200th of the price, which were so much better than anything they gave me at that restaurant!

But it is not an easy country to travel in. Most people go there in big tour groups and rarely did I see independent travelers there... in fact, I think I could count them on two hands.

You know, the rocks and ruins are fine and I don't regret seeing them at all, but if I go again, I would spend more time along the Euphrates, visit the coast, spend more time with the Bedouin and maybe go visit some Kurdish settlements.

Like anywhere, I often think the best time you can have is to go off the beaten track and walk around in villages and towns and of course, in nature, and see what you see and encounter who you encounter!

The Road Leading Back to Damascus

http://www.flickr.com/photos/25797682@N03/sets/72157604693673896/

Tuesday, I wake up early In De-ez-Zur and begin my drive to Damascus, where I will return the hire car. The drive across the desert is mostly uneventful. I stop and turn to see a site called Quasir Al Shaqi, an old Ummayed palace from the 8th century in the middle of the desert .

You cannot miss the signs on the highway, but then going into the town, it is absolute confusion, where the signs just stop. I stop, ask a boy and he gets in and shows me the way, twisting and turning, until he says to go straight along this road. He wants some money and I give him a little bit and then go off down the road.

Later on, I pick up an older Kurdish guy hitching, who shows me which way to go, basically, we take two rights, and there are no signs at all on the way! Finally, after a half hour, I get there and it is just a big old fortress which is falling down. There is a tour bus there when I get there and then they leave and I am all alone. I have a quick look and then leave again soon. I was expecting some kind of oasis actually... but it is absolute desert all around!

I get back on the main highway and go into the Talila reserve, which is said to be one of the few places where the natural environment is protected in Syria. A man opens the gate to the reserve and I drive past the empty fairground and I am again, the only one here! I keep driving towards the "wild animals" and finally get to a station, some bigger gates and meet a man who tells me I can go look at the wild gazelles which are grazing behind the fence and I also climb up the quite big outlook tower.

It is interesting to see how the area behind the fence is much lusher than the ungated terriorty. Desert is very easily eaten up by domesticated and wild animals I suppose. I read in my guide book, that they say that it will take another 30 years for this environment to return back to its natural state (whenever that was previously possible is anyone's guess!)

I have a quick lunch in Palmyra and then am off again. I see ahead of me on the side of the road a large ute like vehicle with this huge machine gun mounted on the tray, above the cab and a solider who puts out of his palm! I wave at him, rather than stopping... and wave to all the other guys on the side of the road who are waving jollyly to me as well!

I am a bit freaked out... I realise a bit late, that this was a check point, and he was asking me to stop! A part of me just doesn't trust anyone alone with that kind of gun on their vehicle. I noticed later the the soldier in the rear view miror is somewhat bemused and so am a bit relieved! As the last thing I would want is one of those vehicles chasing me down the highway!

I get into Damascus in the late afternoon and brave the traffic once again. When I get into the centre of town, I ask a taxi driver to escort me to my hotel, as it would take a long time to find it otherwise.

I am relieved to drop off the car and I am pleased to finally be in Damascus. I have a very favourable impression of the city. Being the oldest continually inhabited city in human history, there is something very solid about it.

The next day is spent walking around the old city mostly... the souqs and checking out the Mosque, which is actually very impressive. I don't have any of that feeling I have in the mosque I had in Aleppo and it is a place where people gather and honestly come to reflect and pray. Children love the place, and are racing around and playing at full volume.

I also go into this old house, which was the home of one of the big whigs during the Ottoman empires reign... it is interesting enough, with strange mannequins in a lot of the rooms showing how the people used to live and what they used to look like.

But really, for me, most of Damascus I have seen before in other places in Syria, it is the same sort of thing, only more highly compressed. So now, at least, I feel I have got a good grip on what Syria is like.

So I sit down to rest at one point and a man comes up and talks to me, I am a little wary, as I think he may be trying to sell me something or be my guide or whatever, but it turns out he just wants to talk.

He is on military service, but originally comes from Lattakia, a coastal city some distance Apamea I didn't really have time to check out.

He is a young man, clearly intelligent, wearing western clothes and very open and gentle in his countenance.

We talk about my travels, where I have been and how I have experienced this country and so on.

We talk about his military service, he is apparently just working in the textile department, and is enjoying it, because working in textiles is his normal job.

I ask about homosexuals in the army. He says... well, every army has men dressed as women, including the Syrian army. And homosexuality is a phenomen known to be more common in the army than in regular life. He said, if they are found out at all, they are thrown out of the army and basically negatively branded for life, to the point where any sense of movement in their life is impossible!

I asked him about homosexuality in Syria in general and he said, it just wasn't something that happened. The stigma was too big. It was just not acceptable behaviour.

I noted to him, how here men are often found holding hands in the street and being very affectionate to each other. And how that kind of behaviour between heterosexual men just does not happen in Australia, as that kind of affection implies homosexuality. Only very recently, have I noticed a shift in this...

And two men in Australia holding hands in the street COULD ONLY imply that they were crusaders of the homosexual cause! He found this very, very amusing, as men holding hands in Syria ONLY implies that the men are good friends - nothing else!

I asked about heterosexuality in Syria, and he said what I had heard before, that every man is expected to find a wife and get married. He said also, what he looked for in a woman mostly was her ability to be a good mother and wife.

I asked if men and women ever slept with other men or women before marriage. He said no. He would only marry a woman who was a virgin when he met her and that he could not marry a woman who slept around or even with one man! He said he thought that would mean that she would be a poor parent!

I said, Swedish girls noticably seem to sleep around a lot before they get married, and that is culturally accepted there and that there is no evidence or sign, this makes them lesser parents. I said, I said in many ways, Sweden is the most humane and civil society I had ever been to.

So I said to him, did he think that in the coming years, would a sexual revolution, like the one the west experienced in the 60's, where it came to pass that men and women decided it was not necessary to be married to engage in sexual intercourse ever occur in Syria?

I said, I had recently been to South Korea and that South Koreans are now experiencing their version of the sexual revolution, where young people are deciding it is acceptable and normal to have sexual relations outside of marriage.

He said he thought so, that it was perhaps inevitable...maybe in 10 or 20 years.

We are about to get onto some really interesting territory when his phone rings and he turns it off. Then it rings again, and he says he has to go, he is being called back, and so we exchange good byes and he leaves.

It is all very interesting... it is funny, as I was taking the bus on the way into Syria I began writing all this material about marriage.

I related marriage to a construct of religion. St Paul (who was on his way to Damascus to persecute the christians, when he had a vision of Jesus!) said that, the man should marry if he must, because it is better for him to marry than burn! Whether he means in lust or in hell is not quite clear, but it is clear that the two are synonymous!

Of course, animals often remain in mating pairs for their whole life time... and perhaps in a basic sense, marriage is the natural order of things. But we are not just animals either and are much more social creatures, who do appear to have higher function rather than just breeding!

My friend said in Syria, divorce was seen as being unthinkable, and it is so clear that so much damage is done to the children when this happens. I said that divorce in the west seemed to indicate to me that people seemed to outgrow one another. All of what I have seen, indicates that human beings seems to naturally grow with different people related to where they are at in different parts of their life.

Recently, I read about the Elizabeth Taylor of the Egyptian pop world, who married 18 times! That is of course, making a mockery of marriage as being to one and only one person for your entire life. But these mutants like Elizabeth Taylor and indeed so many people in our society seem to demonstrate that one person till death do us part does not work for a lot of people. We can say, well, it is they who are at fault for not making it work.

I have come to the conclusion, that of course each of us is different and it seems to me that the mistake we make is looking or expecting to find this perfect person for us for all time. But the perfect person for us in any given time in our lives seems to be entirely different.

What I tend to think, and what I experience, is that being in relationship enables you to be in relationship. That if we took a more serious view of relationship as being a sphere of self development, rather than an end in itself. it would enable us to grow more in relationship and I think, for women and men, if what they want is a traditional family, find the right person for them to whom they would be able to be together with for perhaps the rest of their lives. I think many don't seem to find that person or choose the wrong person, perhaps because they are not dedicated to self development in relationship that would enable them to attract and find the right person for them!

Another factor that interests me, is that as we are entering into a global culture, I think there is so many more people available to us... rather than a few people in the same village of around the same age, who would be suitable for us. That is somewhat incestuos behaviour, which genetically, I think creates inbreeding.

I mean, in cooking, you add flour and flour, you get flour, but if you add a flour and egg you get something entirely new. Life seems to like this sort of creative diversity. Traditionally, you are often expected to marry within the clan, but I think this is changing a lot recently.

And I think this is related to genetically, humanity truly becoming interconnected, not cuturally separated and compartmentalised. I don't think life wants everyone to marry within their tribe or group - that kind of world would be very boring I think.

And I think part of this, is being useful to oneself and others, and in some sense, being able to love oneself and others, and be able to grow and facilitate the growth of others.

I would love to be with a syrian woman, not just for one night, or even for a few weeks, maybe even for some months or years...maybe even the rest of my life. Maybe I would like to have a wife in every country... and that she would have a husband in every country as well... wouldn't that be quite an expanded world?

Bear with me on this one... of course its not practical or really very possible now... but this kind of view somehow liberates from the isolationism of this enclosed coupled marrige-dom, this would be a world where relationship would be given a high credence, even the number one priority.

But I don't believe in this idea of belonging or ownership... that is not freedom. And I don't think unintelligent permissiveness is intelligent or respectful either. I think there is real meaning and importance to our relatings and if we were able to see this and act on the basis of it, the world would be a much more interesting place.

I think if women were revealed in a stable place in her true dominion (not just the home, but in society), rather than quite obviously hidden as is the case here in Syria, she would be at home in society, be stable in it as home and so be supported enough that she would not be seeking so much this "husband as security."

Both men and woman I think, want to love other men and women freely, ultimately, and ultimately I don't think that this love always has to be sexual and this where we find ourselves locked in and dependant on the physical, when actually the most fullfilling relating and being with others is always non-physical, and I think that is the case even in love making. But such love is usually, in most societies, deemed to be only able to occur between two married people - a man and a woman.

So, we live in a society, which is yet to realise the living nature of relationship, the emotions and actual true basis for what we are beyond "the mind."

Indigenous people's instinctually take these things a lot more seriously than us and often base their societies around inner realities (collective and individual) and so did the white people many thousands of years!

I think the true feminist cause now is to bring these realities to the forefront of human society, so they are recognised and brought to bear in a real way. It is maybe mostly women who can liberate men and women from this sexual knot which ties us to the grosses level of the physical and prevents us partaking of heaven, here on earth.

Funny, I am ruminating on all this, in what is often called the "chastity capital" of the world!

Of course, the religions represent perhaps the greatest obstacles to people actually realising that... they all say heaven is not available here on earth. Which many of us know is not true.

In the book "One River" I am reading, a young female missionary says about her Experience with the Mazatec Indians in Mexico.

"Once I tried to explain heaven to a young woman," she said Smiling as she poured Schultes a cup of tea. "I said it was a beautful place, a place where there are no tears. She asked me wether I had been there. I said no. I explained that only the dead could know heaven. Then she looked at me with the saddest face. She said she was so sorry for me. And she left almost in tears."
"How strange," Schultes said.
"It was only later I realised that most Mazatec actually claim to have been to heaven."
"With the mushrooms?"
"Yes. They believe Jesus speaks through the mushrooms, that their visions are messages from God."

The Euphrates and its People

Photos I took relevant to this page can be found here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/25797682@N03/sets/72157604687128362/

On the morning of Monday, I woke up at 9am, and as I walked outside, people mentioned my car had a flat tyre. It was the tyre I had to pump up a bit previously, so riding through the desert with Hane driving must have pushed it over the edge!

People considered it to be a big deal and many offered to help, I said it was no problem and would change it later, which baffled them actually!

I took my macbook air to the cafe and used the surprisingly fast wireless internet there for an hour and had breakfast.

Then as I walked back to my car, who do I see but Hane! He is surprised to see me too, he says we should have tea, but I say I've really got to fix my tyre and get out of here, as I have a big day ahead.

He says, we should go see his friend, and we walk five metres, turn right into a cafe and says his friend is a pro. I am a little bit doubtful, but go with the two of them, up the road and sure enough, to a little tyre shop on the corner.

It turns out there are three sharp pin like objects in the tyre, so I have to buy a new one and get it fitted, which they do very quickly indeed.

Hane's friend wants to drive back, so I say, "okay" not so reluctantly. So we go back to the cafe and have some tea and something to eat. And we go cruising around for a bit, blaring out middle east pop hits from the stereo, from two tapes that they generously give to me.

As they are driving, Hane and his friend waving and getting surprised stares from people they know. We go get some petrol, I go into the sunglass shop and I would not be surprised if I set a world record for buying sunglasses. After stopping and entering the shop, it would have been two seconds at the most before then I say, "I'll have a pair of those!" pointing into the cabinent behind the desk. (yes, there was actually a sunglass shop in Palmrya!)

So at about 12.30pm, I finally get going!

The first part of the drive is fairly unremarkable... just the desert for the most part. I stop and in Deir Ez-Zur, I pick up a thin gentle soldier hitching with his big negro coloured stereo system, then drop him off in a big town called Mayadin.

When I drop him off, some people working in the roadside service shops, invite me to tea. And as usual, I am the star and entertainment for about 20 minutes. As I leave I give them all high fives, which some of the men find weird and won't do! While the boys are absolutely delighted... and then I zoom off again.

I take a left turn over the euphrates, and end up on this road which I think is no longer the highway. It is a bit rougher and consists of continuos houses and villages along the euphrates.

Any time I see the river it effects me quite a bit, it is a gorgeous cyan/blue like colour, not mud coloured like I was expecting.

I keep driving and feel somehow refreshed, the women by the sides of the roads wear the most extraordinary and colorful clothes and the men often more minimal and you can see all these gentlemen walking on the footpaths counting their prayer beads... in fact, I have never seen so many religious fellows since I have been in the country.

The area around the euphrates is so lush, and it is quite incredible what a difference a river makes! but the funny thing is, the influence only extends at maximum a kilometer, and then it is completely flat and barren desert again!

Soon I reach a spot where I think I can walk to the river without anyone around or disturbing the crops... so I grab my canon g9 camera and go. People by the river are quite surprised to see me and as I walk up towards the river more and more people notice me.

The river is a very powerful presence, almost clear in colour, and has this nurturing quality about it... no wonder this river was what supported and brought about some of the first civilisations in our recorded history.

Soon, I am walking towards some water pumps and find this whole water pump complex, pumping water from the river into many different irrgation canels.

Boys gather around me, speak broken English and I take some photos of them and show them the photos.

Then I keep walking, into a village and am immediately swamped by kids and various people interested in my presence. I manage to take some good photos of some of the kids on a fence especially!

I doubt many of them have really seen a white person closeup before... and they simply stare and stare.

Some of the women pose for my photos, while others scurry away shyly, while coming back when I down my camera to check me out more.

Soon I have been invited to sit in a courtyard outside a house, surrounded by children firstly, then women and the occaisonal man. They give me water, which they say is from the euphrates, and it is absolutely clear, and very nice tasting.

There are so many people around me, I get hot and sweaty, so one of the women begins fanning me! I take photos of them sometimes, and show them the photos on the digital screen, which makes them all giggle and laugh!

Some of the men come over and shake my head. One of the figure is the obviously the village mullah, as people tell me and he clearly approves of my presence.

Soon, I say I have to go, as I want to get to Mari, this ancient ruined city, one of the oldest in Syria, before sunset and it is already getting late.

Walking through the village, a boy comes up to me and speaks perfect English to me. He says he learnt it in school, and is the only one who speaks english to me. I say to him, get me an email address of someone in the village and I can email the photos to you all. He says okay, and goes into a house, as if to get the email address and I don't see him again.

As soon as I get to the road, there is a couple of older guys blocking the way! They seem a bit grumpy, like I have wandered into some kind of protected area! And soon this very old guy come over. He puts his hand out and I shake his hand, but he holds onto to mine! At first I think he is just being friendly, but then I get a bit of a captive feeling. I ask him if it is alright to take his photo and he seems to be alright with it... then after I take a couple of shots, turns his head away and speaks arabic to the men! One of the men, pulls out some kind of what looks, super ID card... it looks like some kind of official authorised card.

I get the impression this old guy is some kind of super-mullah patriarch. They start asking me for my passport and I say I don't have it on me, that it is in my car and they say, they don't see my car. And I say, that is because it is around the corner! The old guy says he wants money, at least it is obvious that is what he is asking. But I profane total innocense. There is no way I am setting a precedent of gringos giving the locals money in order to just leave them alone! This seems to exasperate the old guy and so I show them drivers license, holding it in my wallet, as if that is my ID and about the only right they have over me is to see it.

The old mullah then seems to get a bit hard core, speaking arabic to me and making a cutting motion on his left hand.

At first, I just think he is just a silly old bugger, who has no power over me at all... but he keeps making this cutting motion with hand. And then I remember, the village mullah has the power to cut off people's hand, if they have stolen something... the only thing I can think of, is that he thinks I have stolen something by taking these people's picture. Which is clearly rubbish, as all had a good time and saw themselves in the camera and was a mutual cultural exchange!

I get a bit nervous at this point, as they are all now getting a bit hardcore, there are dozens of kids around me at this point... and they are being stirred up by this old guy and the other men.

So I say to them, I need to go to my car to get the passport and they say, "we don't see your car" and I say, that is because it is around there! I turn around suddenly and walk quickly towards my car, the men and all the boys shout "stop, stop!" but I have nothing more to say to these people.

Soon I get to my car and quickly get in, there is like a boy crouched in front of my car, as if to stop me from driving. So I turn the engine on, back off quickly, as another boy gets out the way as I speed back! Then I turn back into the road and speed off as the boys lunge toward the car and one of them hits the window, as they are all saying "Stop! Stop!".

Again, it is a case, where they all think I am going to respect the authority as rebellion in this country is inconceivable it seems to me.

The men and boys are making some kind of road block, but speed up and make it clear I am not going to stop and they get out of the way quite quickly and off I go! My heart is racing at this point and I am a bit freaked... I don't think it could have gotten too ugly as there was nobody there who could really restrain or stop me. I would have pulled some kung fu moves I have learnt from the movies and freaked them out enough to get out of there... but I feel their psychic claws and it was not a real pleasant experience.

There are idiots everywhere in the world, and Syria is no exception... unfortunately, this kind of opportunistic vampirism has to stop if Syria wants to become more visited by tourists. It has 3,000 historic sites, while most middle eastern countries have a few hundred. It is a perfectly good example of a stable middle eastern culture which respects tradition, but is also somewhat modern in outlook.

Yeah sure, I have enough money to get to Syria and travel around, but what I have is tiny compared to all the big black, top of line tinted windowed Mercedes Benze's I see cruising past on this road, with number plates from Qatar or Kuwait. Nobody owes anyone money just because they have some!

It is said that the Bedouin will never accept money for their hospitality. But also, strangely enough, tourism may well be the only factor which enable them to survive living their lifestyle. How that will work out is anyone's guess...

So I keep driving along this beautiful road and stop and ask one of the elderly prayer bead weilding arab gentlemen for direction to Mari, I show him the arabic my Bradt guide shows for the site. He tries to give directions, but eventually, just gets in the car and say in Arabic he will go with me!

These older guys have such a friendly countenance and I cannot think of anywhere I know where someone would get in the car with a "stranger", and show you where to go! I am presuming he was already wanting to go to that area anyway!

After about 15 minutes we are very close to the Iraqi border and you can feel this tension and menace... the guide says there are check points along the way to the border, but I don't see any. We get to the town, the old gentlemen gets out, talks to what seems to be a friend, an even older gentlemen and he then gets in!

Off we go again, down the road and after 10 minutes or so, he gestures that he wants to get out here! and also that Mari is just a kilometre further, then I should turn right. I thank him and he gets out.

I get the feeling these old guys are somehow compensating in friendliness for the bad example of patriarchic male I experienced near the river. And in general, this prevents me from generalising at all about such men.

So I get to Mari, as the sun is going down and I am the only one there as is so often the case in this country. There are some ruins covered in a tent and you can walk through them like a maze... the site is very dry and muddy. And walking around, you can pick up bits of pottery EVERYWHERE!

The site is from 3000 BC, and is said to be the most important Mesopotanian site that exists and existed for about 1500 years, until the Babylonians destroyed it. The site is not amazing or anything, but is a peaceful and interesting place to wander over for an hour or so. I am especially looking for bits of ceramic showing ancient cuneiform writing... but find none!

So then I drive back to Deir ez-Zur, which is the city on the euphrates. I find a good hotel, go into town, have some falafel and then go to sleep. In my dreams that night, I discover on the ground oranate ceramic pieces displaying elaborate cuneiform writings.

Palmyra rhymes with my surname

(note: I know have put up photos at my new flickr site... so you can see them there, I would embed them this page, maybe I will, but it just takes so much more time!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/25797682@N03/sets/72157604687007482/

My hotel in Palmyra is right next to the ruins, so I just get up, get in my car and drive round the corner to the ruins.

The ruins are basically the same sort of story as those of Apamea; except covering a much bigger site, which is really quite huge.

I find an arena where a few hundred people can watch wild animal wrestling and battles, which is still very much intact. I figure it would be an excellent place to make a video clip for a band!

Despite there being so many tourist buses on the road, I am basically alone in the ruins and it is not too early either! I only come across one group of tourists who I manage to avoid. The tourists you see in Syria are mostly the kind of people you would not look once at... almost excessively bland people.

I wander off into the area where there are all these towers and tombs... but don't venture any further.

I go to the temple of Baal which is the most intact structure on the site, and take some nice photos. It is quite interesting how the Muslims have destroyed the faces on the frescoes, so no human imagery is left.

Palmyra itself has quite an interesting history. As its strength and size grew, eventually it was concluded by its people that it should break from Rome and become its own Empire.

The Romans decided this was not the way of the world and sent in their armies, which Queen Zenobia and her people defeated... thereby gaining power of all of Syria, Palestine and a lot of Egypt.

A few years later in AD 272, the roman emperor beseiged Palmrya and took Queen Zenobia back to Rome as a prisoner - thereby bringing Palmrya back into the empire.

After Rome fell, the city had no reason left for existing, as its primary source of money came as a center of trade in the route between the east and Rome - and so it fell into ruin.

As I come out of the Temple of Baal I realise it is about midday and I have seen enough of the ruins and so decide to go walking in the Oasis. But first I am tempted to ride a camel. There are about four of them sitting down outside the temple with their owners closeby. It is a very touristy thing to do, but something I had never done and the only opportunity you really get to ride them in short distances is as a tourist and so I feel to give it a go! Besides, even the somewhat dour Diana Darke, who writes the Bradt guide to Syria, says riding the camel from outside the temple from the reluctant camels is "rather fun"(!)

A young bedouin shows me his white camel and asks 2000 pounds for one hour. (about $50 Australian), which is really an enormous amount of money for Syria. I tell him that and he says they have to pay taxes and so on to the government which seems unlikely but plausable.

I bargain him down to 1800 pounds and say I want to take a tour of the Oasis. I try to pat the camel before getting on, but the beast is obviously quite misanthropic in nature and growls and then lunges at me! This doesn't really deter me, as I hear that camels are just typically bad tempered in nature!

After I get on the camel, hold on as it gets up in a rocking motion, and the beast growls and moans as I am led toward the oasis and the palms.

He keeps growing and grunting for about 15 minutes until he finally stops. I am led through lanes where there are stone walls and olive and pomegranate orchards over the walls.

The bedouin boy, whose name is Hane (pronounced Han-knee) shows me the pumps and spring where the water is pumped up from. The water is literally silver in colour and Hane says it is because there is actually silver in the water and it is very good for the human body to drink it. I tell him we have collodial silver in Australia, which can kill viruses and so on and he says, yes, it is the same with this water!

We go back through the windy lanes and then go to Hane's friends place, which is kind of like a little camping ground, swimming pool and restaurant. I take a swim in the swimming pool which is right behind the temple of Baal and then eat some food which is very, very good... but very, very overpriced!

Hane says he can take me out to see some springs, the desert and also the bedouin if I want. I ask him his price and he says, you decide how much you want to pay. I say okay and so we go to my car and we got into town to pick up his cousin who wants to come with us too.

Soon we are zooming across a dry sandy road, with Palmyra behind us, and just salt flats surrounding us. After about half an hour we arrive at this tacky looking touristy building in the middle of the desert. It looks like some kind of hotel.

Inside, I am shown these big bathing pools which they begin to fill up with water... which is from the spring and is apparently some kind of health giving sulphuric water. I am not really sure about it... I have done lots of these spring waters and never really gotten much from them. But decided to do it anyway... the water is naturally hot and the bath is in this multilayered square bath made from slate.

The water is good and relaxing, but nothing too special. I get out, dry myself and over drinks I ask Hane what we should do next. He says we should go see the camel racing. He says it is about an hours drive from here. I say I am not too keen on that and maybe we should go back to Palmyra now. I was actually quite keen to see the bedouin, but as Hane isn't mentioning it now, I don't mention it - as I suspect he is not as tight with the bedouin as he has claimed!

Then, we go outside and look in this cheesy, touristy bedouin tent! Hane and his cousin are almost surprised there are not any Bedioun in there, in this conveniantly located tent for the tourists! So at that point I drop the bedouin idea altogether.

So off we go, back down the desert track we come from, until Hane's cousin says we can go see some baby camels, which are only a few kilometers away.

Soon, I can see herds of camels in the distance, quite a lot of them! Including baby camels. We get to the road and then I get out and go and take some photos of the baby camels, which are very cute!

As the car is a couple of hundred meters back on the road, Hane's cousin asks if he can drive the car into the desert, so we can see the more distant herds and visit his relatives... I say, "what the hey!" looking at the desert, it is really quite flat and it looks like the car will be fine on this surface.

Soon, we are all in the car, the boys are really joyous, driving the car in the desert, zooming towards more herds of camels and we come across some of ther friends, who seem to be out there herding the camels.

They all have a cigarette and chat excitedly while I take some more photos of the camels. (and them)

Hane says that his friends over there can offer some tea... and points at more herds of camels in the distance, and also that he wants to drive. He says he can drive, but he has never driven an automatic before, so I have to teach him how it works. When we stop after a few minutes, he puts it into reverse while we are moving and the car complains quite loudly!

Soon, we are in front of a big tent, in front of a family, an old man, a middle aged man, a few children, and two women.

So! These are the bedouin!

As we get out Hane seems like he doesn't know quite what to say! And they are clearly quite shy people. We are all in "looking at shoes" mode, until I say how I am enjoying taking photos of the camels. And I am wondering where is this famous bedouin hospitality!

I ask Hane if he can ask them if I can take a photo of them all in front of their tent. The middle aged man, says, it is better if we go to the other tent.

So he comes into the car, with Hane driving and me and him and his three or four year old girl in the back with him.

He looks different to the other Syrian people I have met, the way he moves is less pretentious and more still. There are no airs whatsoever in this man.

His child (I presume), stares at me curiously, sitting in her dad's lap. Some of her hair is pulled into a tie with a kind of sparkly piece of jewelery, they themselves have obviously made. I recognise this, because I have seen the kind of tools and artifacts the bedoiun make in the shops the night before.

When we get to what appears to be main camp, we see about half a dozen camels tied up, various bits of clutter around the three tents and a few women sitting outside the tent, dressed in black, staring at us, not in any suspicious way, but in a kind of distant way.

As tea is being made in another tent, me, hane and his cousin, sit down with the elder of the camp (whose name I cannot remember!) and who I will call "He" or "the bedouin" for now!

We go inside the tent and it is completely empty, but on the sides of the walls are these most incredible wall hangings, pictorial wall hangings depicting Bedouin life - sewn in with different colours of clothe. They really were very impressive and had a vibrancy and spirit about them that reminded me of aboridginal art.

I ask if I can take photos of the textiles and say I would be very interested to buy one if it were offered.

Hane says the bedouin says, people have come and wanted to buy these textiles, but they have never wanted to sell them, even when 500 euros was offered for each piece.

Once they were offered a very large amount of money to just have the textiles shown in a film, as a backdrop, but they refused. He said the film people looked around at other bedouin camps and didn't find anything nearly as interesting as these textiles.

He said at night, they would all make these textiles, and that it would take months to finish each one... and that for now, they were happy just keeping them for themselves!

Soon, tea is served. It is very strong here, always in little glass cups, usually with white sugar, no milk! It is quite good like this, but part of the ceremony involves waiting for it to cool down so you can even pick up the glass! This means quite some time is present for talking. And people here seem to have a better sense that the tea is really just an excuse to hang out with other people.

The bedouin tells of us that a french woman comes and lives with the group for months at a time... I get the impression she becomes one of his wives for this time! (but I could be wrong about this)

Soon, he picks up this bedouin instrument (the name of which I never really registered!), which only has one string, and begins to play it with a kind of bow. This version had a big olive oil sized tin as a resonator and main body, rather than the wooden one's shown to me in the shops in the night before. The olive oil tin version actually sounded a lot brighter and interesting, and the Bedouin man actually plays it very well. The sound is very soothing and calming. Hane says it is very much designed to be a relaxing experience.

He passes the instrument to me and says I should play it now! with a sudden gentle cheekiness in his eyes. I actually manage to play some interesting stuff on it... like see saw David Bowie violin I'm sure!

Then Hane, who is of Bedouin stock, plays the instrument - quite well too!

I give the Bedouin some gifts - some kooky Australian tea and also some special incence which I burn for them.

At this time, the man's son comes in and talks to us, as well as an old man who checks out the incense I am burning.

Then, after some time, of more chatter and jokes, I say it is time for us to leave.

As we leave, the Bedouin asks me when I am coming back to this part of the world. I say I don't know, which Hane tells him. He says, well, if come back, be sure to come and visit us and stay some time if you want.

I say, that is extremely kind of him and thank him for his hospitality and we exchange good byes and get back into the car.

What impressed me about them is how natural they are, nothing is forced or put on. I am reminded of Osho strangely enough, when he talked about friendliness being one of the most important qualities to have. What I quite briefly experienced was such natural and true friendliness.

They reminded me of some of the tribal people I spent time with in the Amazon... everything is quite matter of fact, especially human relationships and present time dynamics which are recognised for what they are.

There is certain sort of grace in being with all in immediate directness, which is childlike, gentle and endearing. Whereas, western people in comparison (especially the rich!) seem to cultivate a kind of self importance, haughtiness, indirect distance as being worthy of respect - a perspective removed from the earth, from the natural, and what the majority ofl NDE survivors understand to be the most important thing in life - human relationships.

The simple, the direct, the matter of fact is often not valued in our world of compromise, complexity and sophistry.

However, more and more people are becoming attracted to the Bedouin because of what they have kept intact in themselves and as a lifestyle. Sadly though, this lifestyle is being compromised, like that of pretty much all of the people over the world, who have traditioanlly lived close to the land. I have read that such camel herds are becoming rarer and rarer, less and less needed and that the desert cannot support many grazing animals. (which is how the Bedouin largely make a living)

Strangely enough (or not so strangely), the group I visited are more aligned with a traditional lifestyle... while even the majority in this day and age are turning to the luxuries of television, motor vehicles and electricity - and therefore more and more becoming assimilated into the modern way of the world.

On the way back to Palmyra, we find a dead camel on the side of the road. Hane says this camel was in the enclosure with us while we are having lunch! I am not sure whether to believe Hane about this... as it seems unlikely, but he tells me he is for real, this was a very sick camel.

Hane and I drop off his cousin in Palmyra, then go to check out the citadel, to watch the sun go down and have a good view over all of Palmyra. Then we go back to his cousins place to look at the baby camels... one of them is 10 days old. It is grey and very cute and come up to us and whinnys when we pat it. Then the baby camel suckles on one of the goats!

Hane's cousin milks one of the big old camels and I am given some warm camel milk! It is clearly very nutricious going by its taste, which is very rich and somewhat sickly.The cheese and yoghurt I was given for lunch today was also from the camel, and was of very good quality indeed.

Then I say good-bye to Hane's cousin and go drop of Hane to his house. His family are all there, sitting outside the house on plastic chairs. Lots of brothers and sisters, mum and dad.

It is getting dark, and they offer me coffee, which I am reticent to accept this time of night, but which it would be rude of me to not accept! Hane's older spectacled, respectably looking brother says that the deal camel I saw, indeed did die today! And that its owner was now at home crying... and that this camel had actually won many races as well!

As I leave, I give Hane 50 euros, he seems disappointed... but I know it is a huge amount of money in his world... and I will let the Japanese tourists who can afford to give him excessive amounts, who are impressed with his Japanese, to give him more money to stroke his ego and bank balance! The boys had great fun driving the car, and had as much of a good time as I did.

So I drive back to my hotel and go to bed, grateful for a very full day of richness.

To the Oasis City, James Bollybood!

So, on Saturday morning I go get a taxi to go to the Sheraton to pick up my Europcar car. The owner of the Baron hotel (a big, dignified but rushy in business, oldish Armenian man with a big nose) takes me there in his huge 50's dodge car for free. He says he hires cars also and says he can do 4 days for $300 U.S. Well I had booked this europocar car over the internet... $160 U.S for 4 days, so I say I will check it out - but there is quite a huge difference in price!

I get to the Sheraton lobby with the hotel owner and I go to the car rental desk and is there is like three people there, all looking very important in perfect suits, like hiring a car is the biggest deal in town!

So they say they never got my reservation... that it never went through the computer and say the next time they can get a car for me is 3pm... so I say "no thanks!" and turn to my hotel manager and we go back to the Baron Hotel. After some time I am finally in a nice relatively new Hyundai with good seats, no deposit, just a cash payment and zero insurance excess!

SO!
Driving out of Aleppo (a city of 4 million!) is not as nightmarish as you might think... the way people drive here is different, it is somewhat hypnotic... cars just rush in, beeping and weaving and ducking... but it is like geese flying together or something. Being a bit of a loose goose, I just drive a bit slower and don't take any risks but have to deal with other drivers making what seems to me like suicidal risks at times. Weaving and ducking, and trusting in my deeper instincts I feel a little bit like Anakin Skywalker, racing through this desert suburbia, surrounded by all these bizarre and wacky cars.

My aim on that day was to see the dead cities (there are all these abandoned cities from about 1500 hundred years ago near the coast) and that is it - and then stay in a town called Hama for the night.

But I drive past the turnoff to the dead cities (there are no signs at all!) and so I keep driving. It is really hard to know where to go and my maps are woefully inadequate. Driving through these green valleys toward Hama, the land looks exceedingly fertile, with many people growing all kinds of crops and I pass many people harvesting and also selling green leafy vegetables on the side of the road.

Once I stop in this small town and buy some sweets... those pistachio sweet pastries whose name I cannot remember. The man refuses to take any money for them! This sort of attitude is not uncommon - but also, people are often trying to get money from you and think you owe them money because you clearly have some! The children watch me in wonder as I walk around... always, you are the most exciting thing in town. And they wave very excitedly and have big smiles when I wave to them as I drive away!

So I drive up and around the valley into the plains away from the coast and get the message to turn around. I look in my guide book and I can see that the ancient ruined city of Apamea is close, but that I have passed it. I turn the car around and energy changes... suddenly, this somewhat knarly feeling is leaving me that has stayed with me from Aleppo.

It is funny, there is more to traveling than meets the eye... I am reading about the Kogi people who live in Colombia in the excellent book about ethnobotanist Richard Schultes called "One River" , and they consider their travels and movement over the land to be similar to weaving strands of thread over the earth mother to make a garment or whole picture of meaning.

Sometimes, these travels have a momentum and a sensation, and in countries where so few tourists travel, there is definitely the feeling of weaving new threads over the earth.

I manage to interpret the landmarks that the guidebook says is the place to turnoff, and so I stop and get out. A man on a motorcycle greets me and tells me that the mosaic museam is closed for the day (it is about 5pm now) and he says he knows the way to Apamea and to follow him.

I get in my car and he drives past and I follow him up the road, we turn up a lane and then I drive along this ridgeline, right behind this old man speeding on this motorcycle and it is like the car is flying, the sensation like some kind of anime cartoon... and it is very exhilerating...all the children and people in donkey carts waving and shouting as I fly past.

Then we turn and pass this big old citadel and begin to see ancient ruins.

Eventually we stop and there we are! There is only one car there (a yellow taxi) and a small shack where you buy tickets. I wave the man off, thank him and buy a ticket from the man in the ticket office.

We talk and he shows me a list of foreign visitors... the Spanish are at the top, up there with the english and the french.... Australians are at 16th as I recall with something like 53 Australians visiting in one year, and then 51 Americans, who came in 17th highest number of visitors. The advantage of that is that people don't automatically assume you are an American if you look slightly first world... which they often do in many countries.

I am immediatetly quite impressed by Apamea and its huge collonade... it is very striking.

I only see a few other tourists there and lots of goat and sheep herders. It feels like a peaceful place, like so much has occured here and perhaps nothing the humans do will ever occur here again, apart from people looking at the ruins perhaps.

Back in Roman times, the city was big enough that Marc Antony took Cleopatra there on a visit. All these sheer roman lines, straight lined and then intricate masonry seems to be such a contrast to the way the locals live now. Visually, it is very enganging... much moreso than, say Pompeii; which is not nearly as intact in many ways.

So I leave the ruins and drive to Hama and get there quite late. The problem is actually finding the hotel I want to stay in! I cannot read any of the road signs and driving through the city at night is really hard! The city seems to be a maze of interpolated one way lanes and windy main drags that turn into one another!

Finally, I walk into the right part of town and find the hotel I want to stay at, but it is full. The receptionist there is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met in my life... not in any sort of modelish or traditional way. But just in this unique sweetness. Looking into her eyes and interacting with her was very sensual, it had that intensity to it... but a sweetness and transparency. Her skin was so white and her eyes were so black, I could see stars of different brightnesses in her eyes. She wore a scarf around her head and her hands she held really tight, almost like in fists, and she moved so quickly, like a little bird! The hotel manager came over and I thought was trying to pull me away from her! (not that I was trying to stay!)

The women in Syria, the one's you can see are often very beautiful (and they are often Christian)... I get the impression the one's you don't see, who wear the birka's are often the more beautiful ones. And they often leave one with a big imprint just passing them on the street. Some of them look strangely stylish - sometimes it seems they are the most stylish people you will see here and often carry black designer handbags! You could understand how it could be liberating for them, not to be leared at by men, but also, I think it is natural for women to dress and want to be beautiful and also be seen.

The advertisements propose this, but sometimes, the fashion sense of the people is so garish, you wish they would be wearing traditional religious costume. As yet there does not seem to be much of a middle way between extreme religiousity and garish capitalistic lipstick, long hair, jeans and track pants sort of culture.

Anyway, I stay the night in Hama, in a hotel the lonely planet describes as the best deal in Syria (about $12 Australian), above all the traffic noise.

In the morning, I go into the city to find something to eat. This is not always too easy when you don't really know what is what. I see this group of men lined up and then pressed against this wall... looking into these small windows... doing something frantic, but I cannot tell what it is. But I take a photo of them. Many of them looking me. Some of them are outraged at this it seems because they start yelling... I think because they feel they have no power and are in some kind of compromised position which may cast them in a negative light.

As soon as I take a photo of them, a man dressed in khaki, with shoddy military stripes, comes over and tries to grab my camera! One of the men shouts out "chilli flip! Chilli flip!" which I can only interpret as meaning, "take out his film!'

Being a digital camera, this is impossible and so I grab my camera away from the man, who seems to think I will just relent to his will because he is the authority and then I quickly back away. While another tall man lunges towards me and I start running away quite fast, down the street and look back to see the man realise I am more nimble than him and not worth the effort!

I am such a cool cucumber that my pulse hardly goes up... it all just reminded me of this sort of pace of Syrian traffic. I turn the corner and duck into a little restaurant and have some salad, a plate of hummous (which they spread all over the plate in this thick layer), a few falafel and bread for breakfast!

I decide to go to Krak de Chavelier that morning., which is a castle originally built by the crusaders. Ultimately, I don't really care about all this stone and buildings... but it does give one an excuse to move through the landscape, which is quite interesting, driving through all these villages and green hills.

The castle leaves me a bit cold actually, even though it is really big, well made and very intricate and clever in its design... it just seems like an irrelevancy. I lie down on the top of it on the stones, getting some sun and do some snoozing.

After lunch at the castle, I drive off and get to this city called Homs... again, I have to negoitiate this traffic in the third biggest city of Syria... but this time, I mistakenly enter the old town, where there is barely enough room for one car, let alone people, motorcycles, carts and so on!

It is a bit like a James Bond moving driving through there... except no baddies that are chasing me! It really does take some time to move through it and finally I end up going down a one way lane which other cars are taking the other way! So this causes a strange scene, where about half a dozen men are helping me through, past their stalls, past the other cars, passing the cars and the stalls by an average of a few centremters (or even clipping a couple of times!). After about 30 minutes, I get out of this and manage to find what I think is the road to Palmrya, an oasis and also old roman city ruins, about 150 kilomtres into the desert which is my next destination.

Eventually, I find a petrol station, but it looks like there are about three dozen trucks lined up to get fuel! But I go in there and they fill up the car right away.

It is funny being the star wherever you go, there are about 15 guys all watching my every move... it is almost compulsory to be quite entertaining! When I pay for the petrol one of them gives me a leaflet saying 15-30% better mileage or something like that, and give me a little tablet, which is obviously to put into the tank, so I buy it and it says it is made in America and so I proclaim, "God Bless America!", like they got a few things right at least!

As I fumble to put the tablet into the petrol tank, one of them grabs the tablet and puts it in the fuel tank, and I say, "So now my car will not get pregnant!" and "It is now a real ship of the desert!" A couple of the men laugh... clearly understanding enough english to get my obscure allusions to camels and contraception!

So I drive my car out of the petrol station, waving to all the men who are all smiling and waving at me! And I feel like a genuine bollywood movie star!

Very quickly the orchards recede, as does the thin greenery, until I am in pure desert, with almost no vegetation at all.

I stop once at this abandoned town, with all the mud houses beginning to fall apart.. When I walk around, I find that some of the houses are still being lived in and in the distance, women look at me from outside their houses.

The desert is completely silent... absolutely still. I take photos of the textures of the houses, find a dung beetle who when I realise I am onto it, plays dead. I also a huge empty well.

Then I get back into the car and speed off into Palmyra.

I arrive at about 6pm and my initial impression of Palmyra is that it is a very beautiful place, the most beatiful in Syria I have seen.

My hotel manager (who I later find out has an identical twin who also manages the hotel) invites me to tea and I ask him about there being many words in Arabic which mean love.

He says, yes, there are many and reels of about a dozen words with this humourous twinkle in his eye. I ask him what is the difference between those words, and he says much of it represents a hierarchy, from something like convivial warmth to when it feels like your heart is about to explode!

I told him about my experience with the border guard and he seems puzzled and asks if it was a man or a woman? I say it was a man and he seems even more puzzled and leaves it at that!

Later on, I find this most incredible shop... clearly this authentic shop in a sea of touristy and semi-authentic shops selling all the trinkets and historical stuff left here from this fallen Roman city, which was one of the the main hubs in between the east and Rome.

In the shop were all these sorts of wild and ancient trinkets you could imagine and many you could not. Big silver stamp seals built around large sea shells, all the islamic astrolabes with intricate dials and moving parts, sextants, ancient compasses obtained from the bedoiun, coins from throughout the ages, various alladin like lamps, a pipe made from ivory showing chinese men, big pieces of amber and lapis, jewellery that looked like it was thousands of years old and probably was... most of it caked with dust - all of it quite expensive. (I just asked the price and did not bargain!) Outside were lots of very old and rusted roman warrior helmets, that intially I did not think could be the real thing... and in retrospect, I think they were!

That night, I go to sleep early, and my dreams are very different to the dreams I have had anywhere else. They are strange and slightly suspicious dreams, but also quite clear and strong.

on my way down east...

So I called this blog travels and tortes, because it rhymes. A torte is like a little sweet cake, so it is me writing about my travels and other things that come to mind and hopefully photos! (when I can get the software from canon to make my camera upload to my puter!)

So, on wednesday I managed to fly from Dusseldorf in Germany to Adana, which is a small city near the border of Syria. My ticket cost 120 euro, which I was very pleased about! (compared to the many hundreds of euros it would have cost otherwise)

The only downside was that it was the oldest plane I had ever flow on (the engine looked like it was going to fall off half the time) and I believe I could have flown the plane better myself! And, the plane was full of decidedly unglamorous old Turkish people... but I had a whole row to myself... so not so bad!

And it also meant I could take the easiest way of crossing the border with Syria (in terms of actually getting in without a prearranged VISA), from Turkey, and then just traveling south through the middle east, rather than flying into Beirut (which I had planned originally)

I have to say, Turkey does not appeal to me as a place... my impression upon entering it, was of this crackle and hum. I felt like I was in a video game, things felt quite blocky and pixelated.

The language sounds quite like Russian and German to me like and it felt like the spiritual home of Borat. "Jak sie masz!"

The people are generally nice and solid...but I don't get much off them. They reminded me of friendly characters you would meet in some kind of adventure game.

I stayed in an upmarketish hotel my taxi driver from the airport took me to, which was about 30 euros a night.

I could hear russian prostitutes speaking around most every corner and in many of the room sand could actually see the hawkish businessmen in the lobby and hallways.

In the basement, I got a beer in the quite large disco... but I was the only one there, with lots lasers and light shows spinning and flashing around. I drank my beer and soon left.

In my hotel room, the hustler channel dominated the 100 channels (with about a third of the channels showing the same channel)... it was pretty hardcore porn actually. All american. Not in the slightest bit interesting or stimulating... not that I would really expect it to be... but I smelt the sense of silly whitey! Certainly people here could get some weird distorted impressions of what whitey is like by watching this predominant stuff!

The next day I take a bus to Antakya, get to the bus station and take a bus straight away.

My impression of Turkey is how big and robust it is, just like Germany in many ways, about the same size, 70 million people all living reasonably well. But in some places, high rise apartment buildings everywhere...lots of luxury car dealerships everywhere.

The land seems very fertile and diverse; but it doesn't captivate my attention.

I get to Antakya city centre and manage to wrangle a Taxi ride to Aleppo for 30 euros. It is about a 120 kilometer ride with just me and the driver.

There are red poppies growing on the side of the road... they especially grow next to the borders interestingly... near the razorwire. I want to tell the driver to stop so I can pick some for some tea (I believe they are turkish opium poppies)... but think better of it for pending border reasons!

We go through 4 different barriers on the Turkish side and then go through this no man's land... about 3 kilometers of trucks coming from Syria, all just stopped. I see about 5 different truck drivers... clearly in despair, with their hands on their heads... it looks like they have been there a long time!

My taxi driver manages to wrangle the yellow renault taxi through the trucks until we finally reach the Syrian border. I actually feel a bit freer then...

We enter this huge, somewhat rundown building... there are pictures of the president Bashir, everywhere... the first I am to see of many I see here, of this ex-london eye doctor, called in to run Syria after his brother died! (and preceding that, his father!)

My taxi driver takes me into this room full of five military men. They take my passport and flick through it a lot. There is a sense of friendliness in these men.

The shift from this divided Roman/Turkish land to this full arab state, is quite abrupt. The people are very different here... there is a sense of wry humour in the men, gentleness... one that you generally get from people of countries who have not been war mongering empire builders!

People said to me how careful I should be in the middle east... like it was a big trouble spot. But all my guides say it is one of the safest places you can go and that you will rarely experience any obvious trouble at all!

It is funny that people have bought this propaganda of this danger. The only danger you would experience is if you are in Israel (and maybe Lebanon) and that is the only provocation or reason for any "danger" to occur. The locals are surprisingly hospitable considering how whitey has been treating them since the crusades!

Finally, I have all I need to get my visa, (stamps, payment receipt, application, signatures) and have to wait for this military dude to process it behind a counter.

He flicks through my passport several times... asks me a lot of questions... asks me if I will visit Israel TWICE! looking me in the eyes sternly! I say "No, I haven't planned to" and then, "NO!" the second time!

And then, as he is writing my details in a ledger, he says, "Julian, I love you."

I am not so astonished actually, as I am aware that in arabic, they have around 300 words for love (as I tell to the people who I tell I am going to the middles east) and so I say, "ah, very good!"

Finally, he puts the stamps in my passport (literally like postage stamps), sticking one stamp on top of the other in this ornate pattern... and then he puts my passport on the counter and continues working - saying nothing!

An American girl next to me says, "that's it!" and I grab my passport and go.

I zoom off in the taxi with my driver and through the countryside, which is noticably full of bored goat and sheep herders by the side of the road with their flocks. Everything looks more compressed here than in Turkey, more intimate too. There is lots of rubbish by the side of the road... a real problem apparently.

Finally, we make it to Aleppo - Syria biggest city.

My driver stops and drops me off and shows me where my hotel is... The Baron hotel.

The Baron hotel is where T.E. Lawrence, Agatha Cristie and Theodore Roosevelt and anyone of that ilk, used to stay in Aleppo! It is very big, and quiant! (as you would expect!) My room is very noisy though, right next to the street.

I go out into the street and look around. My initial impressions of this city is of the women...lots of women wearing birka's... but also a lot not too.

The people are quite lithe and good looking and I feel comfortable here... there is something of a smoothness in the air, despite the chaos. But the pysical air is quite hard to breathe... so many fumes! But there are also many malls where cars are not allowed, and of course, the souqs.... which are these tunnel like places where people do most of their shopping (there are no supermarkets in Syria!)

I end up in this square and I can hear triumphant music playing.... men in deep voices singing. I see this rectangle tent, outside are men selling che guevara t-shirts.

Inside the tent there are a lot of men, only men, and there are photos of war torn people everywhere on the side of the tent. I cannot make out who or why they are communicating thiss... but the images there are by far he most gruesome I have EVER seen in my life... men with their brains hanging out of their heads... pictures of bullet ridden people... even worse than that.

And then a photo of George Bush playing guitar....

The impression I had they want to impress is of moral outrage... something of a call to resistance.

I keep walking towards the citadel, and I end up near a big mosque. I take off my shoes inside and immediately feel the stones are putting out an very effecting energy... which is uncomfortable to say the least. I cannot wait to leave and as I leave I see these grey KKK cloaks that foreign women are supposed to wear there.

I am surprised how few people are there in the mosque actually... maybe they feel the energy there too!

And I walk through the souqs, (nothing really too notable I feel like buying!) and end up near the big citadel... which is this huge, tall and round palace surrounded by a huge moat.

I try to find a famous bath, find it, but it is closed and so take a taxi back to my hotel.

I watch some television that night... what impresses me are the advertisements... they are perhaps more slick and feature more obviously beautiful women than I have seen in any country. I think perhaps they make them for all the Arab countries... it is funny how the aspirations and aesthetics that are proposed, are generally American like. But what came first - America or the chicken?

It is funny, when traveling, that wherever you are, I find the land communicates to me... my dreams are ENTIRELY different. Here, everything feels smooth, non-problematic... my sleep is different too and satisfying - smooth gear shifts!

The next day, Friday, I stay in my hotel room doing emails and internet until midday.

I decide to eat out somewhere nice for lunch/breakfast and go to what is said to be one of the top restaurants in town... it is like in an old middle eastern courtyard. And I have mezze (dips) and lamb and syrian truffle kebabs. The truffles are nice, but not a taste sensation or anything... the lamb makes me feel a bit oily like a sheep. The bill was huge for syrian standards, but would only buy me half an average meal in any standard european restaurant. There is a prominent photo of bashir and his wife, in the lobby. He always looks so uneasy.

This time I go to the citadel and go inside... it is huge, with good views over Aleppo... and I go inside and find this huge hall... with very beautiful Islamic stained glass and geometric patterns on the walls.

I go back into the souq, but it is empty... I find a "hamman" (like baths), but the one recommend in lonely planet is like this dilapidated, mildy steamy ceramic tiled lined room with a few seedy looking older dudes lying down in repose... each near a tap which is in various states of dripping! I don't think I need this kind of bath or massage and leave!

And then I go to the National Museum near my hotel... it is really interesting actually. The last time I went to the British museum, I saw some of the stuff related to these civilisations that were existing 5 thousand years ago, but this is much more interesting.

There were shown clay tablets with translations of the writings talking about how the queen should look after the priestesses and also there was this very beautiful big statue of a water goddess.

Then I go back to my hotel, and have a gold egyptian beer (without preservatives!) , sit down on one of the old leather couches and observe the glass case where they are displaying T.E. Lawrence's bar bill and mentions of the hotel in one of his books.

So that's it so far... I am just really adjusting to it all... today (saturday) I am hiring a car and heading out for four days to near the Iraqi border, to see these old dead cities and check out the euphrates, the desert and the assorted life and what I find out there! Then I drop the hire car off in Damascus...so that is when I will write more hopefully!