Beirut...The Vegas of the Middle East

After being in the drab grey of Aleppo for a mere two weeks Chris and I decided to take a weekend trip to Lebannon. Timely enough we arrived at the borders in time for an Eid celebration. While waiting around at the border for a half-hour or so I started wondering why I kept hearing explosions. In fact, as we were approaching the coast I thought I was watching lighting but it was to small and bright. It reminded me of shelling from artillery batteries. Finally I looked around the building to find locals launching fireworks from the field. Damn! I was hoping to catch some juicy revolution.

Eventually we made it to Tripoli by ten or so and within an hour we found our way to the center of town and got a decent deal on a hostel. Actually the guy in the hostel was so nice he gave us a discount, and it ended up being cheaper than the hostel we intended to stay. With a decent nights sleep (no thanks to that horrible creaking noise that I think was a pump for the water). In the morning we had a nice breakfast with fresh croissants, cheeses, fruit, and an assortment of other goodies we happily gobbled down.

That morning we walked to the citadel, that was a mere kilometer or so away. Without prior concern we happened upon the slaughtering arena that WAS downtown Tripoli the day of Eid. Everywhere there was blood running through the streets and sheep in various stages of death and disembowelment. From the citadel we had a wonderful view of the city, the mountains and the mediterranian nearby. Oh, and the dead goat smell was gone.

After an hour or so of looking around and taking pictures, we walked back to catch a small bus to the Christian stronglhold of Bcharre'. Actually I thought I was going to a quaint little mouintain town until Chris gave me the history lesson on the bus. It seems our nice little town was an outpost of Christian insurgency during the civil war. Within an hour of arrival it was physically, verbally and psychologically obvious that we were in a "Christian" town. Are you LOCAL????? This is a LOCAL town for LOCAL people!!! Creepy.

The cedars and the mountain range above the town were beautiful. We spent our "ski day" sitting in the lodge for three hours sipping coffee, breathing second-hand smoke, and waiting for the "wind" to stop blowing. Anyone from home has skied on much steeper in much windier conditions. It was lame - blowing a bit - but I have had days where I was dangling at a 45degree angle up at the top lifts of Loveland wishing for God to stop blowing on me. This was nothing. Nonetheless we sat and waited in our cheap-ass 1970's rent-a-gear and paid-out Syria & our school. After three hours we gave up, gave the shitty gear back, and proceeded to walk down the mountain. Actually we caught a lift from a "christian-militia-nazi-guy" that chris suspected was a part of the conspiracy that would be our downfall during our stay in Bcharre'. He dropped us at The Cedars and we walked around the remaining parts of what used to be a mountainous range of cedar trees. They were big trees. I just enjoyed the hike really. I miss the mountains you know!

After a snack we then proceeded to walk eight kilometers or so back to town. A beautiful walk and a beautiful day. From Bcharre' we went to Beirut with the intent on spending one day there and another day at Balbek taking in the ruins and hitting a few vineyards on the way back. After the first beautiful day the next two were utter shit. A two day rainstorm kept us inside cafe's and the Virgin Megastore for the first day. The second day we walked the corniche in pouring rain, dodging crashing waves and puddles. Wet, we settled into a cafe and read our books. No matter where I go - I always enjoy hanging out the most!

Enjoying our trip to modernity, we took a night out for some western dinner and bar hopping. Beirut is definitely the Vegas of the Middle East - I saw more neon and flashing lights in those two days than I have since I was last in Vegas. Maybe I am just so far removed from modernity that it looked bright and happy. Even the bullet holes looked happy. I actually saw couples on dates...and KISSING! My good lord Jehosafat on a rubber crutch...KISSING! Well after I got done praying for thier souls I got drunk! Beirut is now my favorite town in the Middle East. It has everything one could want of the western world with an eastern flavour. I have been told Dubai is better but I want to check out Amman next. I guess outside of historical sights, I would rather see the big cities than the villages. I live in a big dirty village. I told my friend Kaila in an email earlier today that my next job will be in a bigger city, or a place with something to offer like the great outdoors. I need more than psuedo-psychotic conversations with villagers about how Attaturk is a Jew. I can only take so much - I want to talk politics and current events! I want to see fasion and culture. It seems the large cities everywhere are the posters for the collective culture and beliefs of the greater nations. Going village at a time would be like reading every hack writer that comes along in order to read the up-and-comer first. I would rather wait for the Booker Awards to come and read something recommended. Big cities are the recommendations for variations in culture. God I love the city. If animals aren't walking by my door every morning(not stray cats), I wan't to live in the metropolis!

That rant aside, our trip back was long and uneventful. We took a seven hour bus back to Aleppo with a nice hour at the border. The Lebanese side wished us a good journey, stamped our passports - bing-bang-boom we were out the door. And then there was the Syrian side...the poster of Cold War efficiency. It took forty-five minutes to have some guy type a few things in the computer and get us stamped and on the way. The best part was when we rolled up into town and the guy behind us on the bus welcomed us so proudly to Aleppo. Chris and I grimly replied "we know...we live here."

Three wheelin ain't what is used to be!

With my new resolve to talk less and see more, Chris and I went to see a historical sight outside of town yesterday morning. We started the moring bright and early when our friend Mohammad rang the doorbell and 8:30. Those of you that know me know I don't even operate at that time unless I am being paid, so it was a rough start to say the least.

Within the half-hour Chris was up, and after lounging and talking for a bit we three were off for our morning coffee, and to meet up with our friend Hratch. It was a nice morning with a slight breeze so the sky seemed extra blue, and the morning serving of pollution was minimal. Friday is also the holy day so most people were off the streets and doing other things...which was nice. Within ten minutes or so we reached our seedy little coffee house that homes the AC to Aleppo's DC. We are often drug into many conversations, mostly politics, and asked about anything from travel to ice hockey (I met a Flames fan from Philly). Yesterday morning we met a fellow that believed Kamal Attaturk was a Jew. Interesting but laughable. I have found that many people here were taught a history that wouldn't quite match up with almost any other country's in the world. The have their own veiw on things up at the ole' Ministry.

After our 'enlightening' conversation with that sandy haired stranger we left, without Hratch, to get our morning dose of Fool. This has become a weekly occurance in that at least once a week we meet the boys for fool and coffee. I can't describe fool without making the disclaimer that is sounds way worse than it really tastes. It is a certain type of large bean that are stewed with some spices and served with Tahineh, olive oil, lemon juice and peppers. The presentation is interesting but mixed all together it looks like a bowl of barf. You eat it with flatbread and pieces of onion. It is a strange taste at first but it really grows on you. Other than that it keeps you feeling full all day, and gives you great energy. Most people say it makes them feel sleepy, but I feel great when I eat it. I am getting the recipe and will make fool for all of my friends when I come home.

After fool we leave for the minibus station that is a short walk away. As Mohammad negotiates the price I am filming dangling tea bags thrown onto the ceiling, whose tabs are blowing in the wind to the Meuzzin calling the daily prayer. It's a cool little video - pure luck actually, but it really came out nice. We proceeded to our microbus and piled into the back with people smelling of fuel oil and a few villagers. A twenty minute death ride brought us to a nice village outside of town where we dropped of the passengers and then continued on to the citadel.

It seems St. Simeon was a crazy old man that was famous from sitting on a column for thirty-eight years. The grounds were build around 400 BC and the main buildings were a sanctuary and a church of the Byzantine era. The area was later walled and turned into a Citadel. I had a wonderful time wandering around, took great pictures (thanks for the camera Mom, J, and Sue), and befreinded three local dogs that lived on the grounds. After deciding to hitch, over paying a stupid price for a ride back to the village, the dogs escorted us for a mile or so until we were picked up by a three-wheeler truck. This wasn't your 1980's ATV with lego tires, it was your 1980's BIG ATV with motorcycle tires and a covered truck bed! What the hell right...so we three piled in back and gave the driver fifty lira($1)to take us to town. That was one interesting ride - I think Chris has a picture from the back as my camera had run out of power.

Upon returning to the village we negotiated another ride back into Aleppo and shortly we were back home. Later that night we met back up with the boys for a few beers at a tourist hotel that has a bar in the basement. Another frustrating experience with financial racism - "I am white, I must be rich, I must like paying double for everything." The mistake the barman made was thinknig Hratch was a foreigner. Hratch got pissed when he found out how much the beer was costing. All three guys argued with the bartender, AND the manager about foreign prices and arab prices. Even the arabs were pissed about the price differences. Our friends are educated, western thinking, and by no way representative of the majority here - most people would jack you for as much money as they thought they could without thinking twice. God I love this place...

So eventually we drank our "discounted" beer (that was the prize for the arguement) and worked our way back home for a long sleep. Annoyingly I woke this morning at the same time with no prompting, and we went to immigrations to get another exit visa for Lebannon next week. Guess what happened...you got it...no visa for us! Seems we need more paper and probably more money. So, with all luck, we will visit some great spots in Lebannon next weekend - if God wills it. Inchala...Buchara

Talking to the $*&@ing wall

I have recently concluded that I shall spend the rest of my time in Syria having conversations with the wall. I know what to expect from the wall. The wall doesn't lie, tell half-truths, say "malesh", discuss Islam-for-Christians, spew propaganda about the school or country, or even drive like a coked-up eight year old late for the latest X-Box session. The wall is what it is meant to be, or anything I deem it to be during our conversation (I will be playing the part of the wall as well.)

My German retreat was a slow decent into the soothing warmness that is the First World. Things were clean. CLEAN! People had a sense of how to drive - in general there were rules. Rules for just about everything, and most people followed them. In fact, I probably broke more rules than any one person I watched for two weeks. I jaywalked, jumped in between cars, rode transportation without paying, and I am sure I broke numerous unspoken rules just out of ignorance of the culture. I recently came from a place where you can do just about anything you want, apart from starting a revolution, and if you have enough money or power everything will be fine. In the Third World these people ruin it for everyone. In the First World there are so many rules that you have to be stupid rich or amazingly well connected to get away with anything big. These type of things are generally called "conspiracy theory" because they are too connected and expensive to even concieve they exist.

In the Third World this corruption floats just below the surface of the everyday pondscum of life. These carp just swim around waiting to take a bite and everyone knows they are there. In the ocean the most dangerous fish come out of nowhere and strike fast. They hide in the deep, and the darkness, and are amazingly bold at how they secretely survive. The pond is a shallow, murky, plain view of a static life. The big fish are small and everyone knows they are around. God I hate stinky little ponds.

Have you ever been somewhere that with a little love could be amazing. I feel like that here everyday. These people are so warm and energetic and at the same time allow little fish to inhabit and ruin their pond. With the religious diatribe put aside, I really see the potential in this place and in these people. Survival is distinctly natural to all beings, but why would a populace of people merely choose to survive. Agh now we are discussing politics. I find that in this place, much like the big fish comparison, there is a zero-sum orientation amongst the people. It seems that those in power only believe they can have a nice life by not allowing anyone else to triuph. It happens all over the world, and in some ways, at least economically, it creates a balance in the market. If you creat a vacuum and then create scarcity, you will have created a perpetual decay. I keep seeing the potential in the decay.

When I got to the airport in Frankfurt I had a slow realization of what I was returning to. Imagine a terminal of orderly lines and modernized techniques. Round a corner to a melee of people with piles of luggage and baggage strewn about in no resemblence of a line. A low roar of arguing coming from the counter and from each queue of family and friends readying to check-in with the airline. I struck up a conversation with a man and his companions and in German, Arabic, and English we found out who each of us was, our names, our destinations and so on. It seems the melee was families with way too much luggage scrambling to group together to take advantage of a group check-in/group weight limit rule. Most of them were strangers banding together in a sort of quasi mathmatical way to maximize luggage per group size. The madness had it's method - it was loud and annoying but I DID understand the method. Being the light packer that I am I grouped up with the guys, and later an old woman and her husband, to let them take advantage of my lack of luggage. Most of these people don't travel often and when they do they load up on things they can't get back at home, as well as gifts for friends and the odd find. I understand this all too well as I can't find any clothes that fit me very well in Syria. Everything here is made for middle sized skinny people with narrow shoulders. I have since found a few shops that I can buy from, but mostly I can't wear anything made here.

My experience in line at the airport summed up my experience in Syria. The few privelaged go to the front of the line, take their nice clothes and things they got outside of the country because they can leave, and get on the plane first. Everyone else is left scrambling to work together to make the best of their situation. Enough said.

So I am going to have my conversations with walls from now on. I have discussed as much politics, religion and education as I can take without getting thrown in jail. And that ever enticing topic of sex is a non topic - they even take the kissing off the television programs they import. With my three main guns down for the count that puts me out of business. And those of you that know what a windbag I can be sometimes might be suprised to hear that I finally shut up. I am now going to wander the earth with my staff and a bag showing people how to live life correctly through Kung Fu - oh wait that's Kain...and he's here to help. I am going to spend the rest of my semester seeing the sights, tasting the food, reading some books, and waiting to return to the First World.
"The ONLY world where you can piss on a holy book, burn a flag, eat genetically modified foods, and buy a car twenty-four hours a day."

Damn I miss it!

And a Brand New Jahr...

I sit here around thirty minutes or so before the new year thinking about what I have accomplished, where I have been, and the changes I have made in my life. Like everyone else this time of year I am reminded of what I want to accomplish, where I want to go, and the changes I want to make to my life.

This year has been an amaying experience for me. I put a roof on a house, taught at a college, traveled to the middle east, learned a new language, and now on the eve of the new year I am assessing the old in former East Germany. In a place that historically has seen so many challenging things I feel very close to the troubles that have been.

A few nights ago I was dancing in an "East German" dive bar to fifties, sixties and seventies Americana and Ska. The people were real and the energy was great. The wallpaper on the wall was hung over cinder blocks of the cold war when beers were a few pfennigs. Times they are a changing. Now people from all over Berlin dance there together with foreigners and each other. It was nice to hear Dick Dale and Italian seventies music mixed together with Elvis and Specials. I met people from all over the globe that live here and are also traveling through. This place is the re-intigreation of two societies after many years of seperation and tragedy.

I see the same things forming in the middle east that once formed here. A wall dividing two peoples sharing the same land. Politicians fight over the right to inhabit or control the area but in the end only the people suffer. The middle east will come together someday like Berlin has been rejoined. I don't know when but it will happen I am sure.

As I type fireworks and party horns are heard from all around. The streets are already full of debris of the noisy celebration that is about to ensue. I have spent my time here with Westerners from every imaginable. I have heard for almost five months from everyone who can speak how much damage our country has done to the trust of the world. I am tired from the stories of ignorant American travelers. I want everyone to believe in one world.

The recent tragedies in the Indian Ocean brings sorrow but gives me hope for humanity. We can all pitch in and help out when fellow humans suffer a great loss. Should or could we have done more before it happens? Yeah sure and hopefully this loss will bring us closer together. Why were tourists rushed out of the country while citizens were left for days with no support? We should love one another.

The ruckuss is getting louder now and I must join the crowd. I love you world and I wish you a wonderful new year...