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!