Sunday, April 24, 2011

The world is Beiruting again!

Apologies for the long delay between my last post and this one, but internet cafes in Beirut were harder to find than a Lebanese person with nice things to say about Israel. I didn't expect there to be so much to see and explore in Lebanon and after only a few days I knew I would have to extend my stay to make the most of my visit. So now, 14 days later, I find myself back in Damascus trying to corral my many recollections into some kind of cohesive narrative...Here goes!

My first impressions of Lebanon were of  lovely cedar trees and the abundance of soldiers that I glimpsed through the mist and fog as my bus inched its way across the mountains and down towards Beirut. I found Beirut to be a fascinating city filled with many contradictions. There are the many Palestinian refugees living in poverty and there are the ridiculously over-groomed women with no eyebrows (it seems as though you are not fit to be seen in Beirut society unless you have had your natural eyebrows completely waxed off and replaced with thin penciled in lines) buying designer clothes. There is the soulless perfection of the sparkling new Beirut Souks shopping district downtown and there is the quiet dignity of the bullet hole riddled old houses that are still standing on the green line that used to separate East and West Beirut. There are the proud declarations made by many locals that the best thing about Lebanon is that people of so many different religions manage to live peacefully side by side - and there is the history of years of bloody civil war.

The country is very keen to put its violent troubles behind it and is happy to promote itself as the up and coming destination for the rich and famous. As you walk to the Corniche past several new building developments downtown, you are bombarded with large billboards declaring "Beirut is back on the map!" and, the sign that never failed to raise a giggle from the Australian travellers who saw it, "The world is Beiruting again!"

Lebanon is such a small country, and the public transport is so cheap, that the easiest way to see the country is to base yourself in Beirut and visit the many sights both north and south of the city via a series of day trips in the many mini buses that run as service taxis around the country. The minibus to the lovely seaside ruins at Byblos cost the same as the minibus to the northern city of Tripoli, 2000LL or $1.50. The sight at Byblos of the red poppies growing amongst the Roman columns, with the waves of the Mediterranean Sea crashing in the background, is one that will stay with me forever.

I was not overly impressed with Tripoli as a city and found 2 hours more than sufficient for me to take in all the sights. I may have been unfairly comparing Tripoli's old city and khans to the souqs of Damascus but I did really enjoy my visit to the Khan as-Saboun (the soap khan). The Lebanese use soaps as fragrant decorations, as well as necessary aides to personal hygiene, and I took great delight in observing the craftsmen and women as they fashioned prayer beads, high heels and bunches of grapes from soap. It was difficult to limit myself to only two soap purchases (out of the 400 varieties on offer) and as I paid for a bar of rosemary soap and lovely ball of sandalwood and amber soap I glanced around the room and saw that they even had a large open copy of the Quran carved out of soap!

Anticipating the higher costs that I would inevitably be faced with in Lebanon, compared to Syria, I elected to stay in a dorm at the New Talal Hotel in Beirut. The hotel had a dorm just for women and the owners took great pride in protecting our honour by locating the dorm at the top of five flights of stairs and vigilantly locking the door (which was a real pain in the backside as many of the dorm's occupants frequently forgot to take their keys with them when they headed out).

The social atmosphere of the dorm was a very good antidote to my normal hermit like tendencies when travelling and the real highlight of my time in Lebanon were the wonderful new friends I made there. The days I spent in the excellent company of Nina (American), Ruth (Belgian), and Clara (German) were filled with sight seeing, bad pop song sing-a-longs and much laughter. The glorious view of the clear aqua waters of the Mediterranean from the Sea Castle at Saida is forever linked in my memory with Nina's obsession with sampling every type of cookie on offer, Ruth's love of ice-cream and frequently shared comment that something was "too nice!" and my new friends' tolerance for my own Lebanese obsession as I dragged them through the souks in search of the soap museum.

Similarly I cannot recall our trip to the glorious Roman ruins at Baalbek without hearing Clara and Ruth singing songs by Technotronic in my head. Baalbek was far more impressive than I had imagined it would be and this was largely due to the fact that much of the site was still in excellent (almost original) condition. You were able to wander into temples and marvel at the engineering skills that allowed the romans to get a stone roof on top of columns that were five stories high. The six remaining columns of the Temple of Jupiter are the largest roman columns in the world. To give you an idea of the size, 4 of us with outstretched arms still did not quite encircle the girth of one column!

My hotel in Beirut was conveniently located close to both the Charles Helou bus station and the funky bars and restaurants in the Christian suburb of Gemmayzeh. The main street of Gemmayzeh had a bit of a Newtown vibe to it and by far my favourite restaurant there was Le Chef. It is a bit of a Beirut institution and serves a delicious array of traditional Lebanese "worker's food". Whenever you enter, or indeed walk past, Le Chef you are met with the deep booming voice of the owner as he bellows "Welcome, welcome" in a tone that makes his words seem ironic. The menu is hand written in French and changes each day. I had a delicious chicken and rice dish on my first visit there (the rice had minced lamb, walnuts, pistachios, almonds and assorted herbs in it) that was so good I literally dreamed about it afterwards. When I tried to order the same dish the next day the owner boomed "yesterday is yesterday, today is today. Today is different". Luckily my favourite starter of hummos with pine nuts was always available. I visited Le Chef a total of 5 times in my 12 days in Lebanon and on my last visit there the owner smiled at me and after hearing my new friend Hannah's order pointed to me and said "I know - hummos with pine nuts and chicken with rice" - my favourite dish was back on the menu that day!

The drinks in Beirut were expensive ($10 for any alcholoic beverage) so I budgeted for two huge nights out on the town - during each of which I enjoyed two drinks. The combination of excellent company - Nina, Ruth, Sandrine (French) and Craig (the aussie I had earlier met in Damascus) on the first night and Nina, Ruth & Clara on the second- and the DJ's preference for pop songs from the 80's and 90's made our nights out at the bar called Rehab loads of fun. Our unbridled enthusiasm at finding songs that had been crossover hits in Australia, America, France, Germany and Belgium resulted in much loud singing and some enthusiastic chair dancing. I think the locals found us quite entertaining and the bar's owner supplied us with a free round of shots and numerous bowls of salted corn kernels in an effort to get us to stay longer on each night. The waitress at rehab was also very striking and as we left I asked her if she had read the book "The girl with the dragon tatoo" as Nina & I both thought she was a dead ringer for the Lisbeth Salander character. She was thrilled with our inquiry as she had indeed read the books and in her words had "based her whole look on Lisbeth Salander".

The many day trips we took in Lebanon meant that we spent a lot of our time in minibuses. We started to amuse ourselves by taking bets on how much longer it would be before the minibus left (you had to sit in the minibus for anything up to 45 minutes, waiting for it to fill up, before it departed) and once we were on the road, what our estimated time of arrival would be.

The trip back from Sour with Ruth was particularly memorable as a few minutes after we got in the minibus the driver and his friend proposed marriage to Ruth and I. Given that they spoke no english and the driver's friend looked like he was at best 19 years old, I politely declined the offer... But Ruth took a good long look at the quite handsome driver and accepted. The driver was understandably VERY excited by this news and so began a hilarious courtship that involved every passenger on our bus. The driver would keep telling the other passengers in Arabic what he wanted to say and they would pool their collective broken english to try to translate for him. So the driver would call out something in Arabic, there would be a few minutes of muttering up the back of the bus before one of our elderly passengers shouted at Ruth "Your eyes. Pretty!" We narrowly avoided several accidents during the two hour trip as our driver kept electing to direct long lingering glances at his fiancee in the rearview mirror rather than keep his eyes on the road. But the news of Ruth's impending marriage was not kept just to our minibus - oh no. Every other minibus we came near on the highway was called closer by the honking and wild hand gestures of our driver. Then his friend would roll down the window and relay the news in Arabic of the engagement to the other driver. There would be much excitement, clapping and shouting and many more near accidents as the other minibuses would then nearly slam into us so that their driver could get a look at Ruth. Sadly the path of true love ultimately hit the language barrier. I think that Ruth would have been quite happy to meet her fiance for a drink that night but we could not communicate where we were staying or where they could meet. Somehow I suspect that Ruth may have got over the disappointment a bit faster than our minibus driver!

My last few days in Lebanon were spent enjoying the view from the ocean front Corniche in Beirut and fitting in a couple more daytrips to The Jeita Grotto in the north and The Beiteddine Palace in the Chouf Mountains south of Beirut. By the Monday of my last week Nina, Ruth, and Clara had all departed and I was anticipating spending my last few days in the country alone. Thankfully a wonderfully eccentric whirlwind of energy by the name of Hannah (from the UK) arrived and we explored the Jeita Grotto together.

From its cable cars which take you the ludicrously short distance up to the caves, to its toy train that you take back to the entrance, Jeita Grotto has plenty of kitch to keep you amused. However the spectacular sight of the stalactites and stalagmites that fill the upper cavern soon help you to forget the pain of parting with the 18,500LL ($15) entry fee to the site. Hannah thought the upper cavern looked like the setting for the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and certainly the strange formations and eerie orange lighting made it sometimes seem like you were looking down into the seventh circle of hell. After walking around the upper cavern we boarded a small boat to explore the partially flooded lower cavern of the grotto. Ultimately the immense size of the Jeita Grotto is very impressive. I can understand why the Lebanese are pushing so hard for it to be selected as one of the 7 natural wonders of the world, although I cannot whole heartedly suppport its nomination as it is up against the Great Barrier Reef, Uluru and Milford Sound.

My last day trip in Lebanon took me into the spectacular Chouf Mountains. The Beiteddine Palace was built over a thirty year period starting in 1788, and in 1943 Lebanon's first president after independence declared it his summer residence. Its location alone, sitting majestically atop a mountain surrounded by orchards and stunning terraced gardens, makes it worth the trip and on the day I visited at least five different school groups were there on excursion. As students of various ages ran squealing through the museum and staged large water fights in the ornamental fountain, it took all of my willpower to restrain myself from using my teacher's voice to get the more boisterous of the kids into line. Instead, I enjoyed taking in the sumptuous interior decorating on display in the rooms and helping some of the older students to practise their English by talking to them about my travels and where I am from.

My last night in Beirut was a true reflection of my time in Lebanon in that it involved great food and excellent company in in the form of Hannah, Rihah (Japanese) and the very well travelled Barbara. Indeed had I not had the charms of Damascus, not to mention the rest of Syria, to look forward to it would have been very difficult to leave.

On that note, Happy Easter everyone! I hope you are all enjoying the break - especially any hard working teachers who may be reading this :-)

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Basalt & Baklava

I've been soaking up the atmosphere here in Damascus for nearly two weeks now and am seriously in danger of never leaving what has become my new favourite city in the world to visit.

One of the thousands of things I love about Damascus is that almost everything is within walking distance of the backpacker hotels. This means that you become more familiar with the local sites, stores and people and can (kind of) start to feel like a local. I love that as I walk to the old city I pass my favourite falafel place, the place that sells the best lemon and mint juice mmmmmmm...the stall that sells the best quality bananas, the glass storefronts filled with towering, glistening pyramids of baklava and so forth. If you are detecting a common theme of food and beverages here that is because Damascus has an amazing array of deliciousness on offer at every turn. It has been a real challenge not to turn into a complete blimp during my stay here! I think I will have to do a separate blog entry later just on foods to do it all justice.

In the heart of the old city lies the stunning Umayyad Mosque. I knew the mosque was big and the LP said that it contained some nice mosaics so not long after I arrived in Damascus I paid my 50sp entry fee and donned what I liked to think of as a wizard robe - but in actuality was an ugly grey cotton dressing gown like garment with a large hood.

I had just tied my shoes to my backpack and entered the courtyard when I looked up and was completely gobsmacked. I was facing a wall about 4 stoires high, the top half of which was covered in stunning gold mosaics glittering in the midday sun. It was so beautiful I felt like crying. This is why you are here, I thought - this is something you have to experience in person because no photos will ever do it justice. No photos can capture the calm and peace of the enormous white stone courtyard and the surprise you feel when you walk under the cool archways lining the arcades that frame the courtyard, look up and see that even the undersides of the arches have been decorated in glorious patterns of golden mosaics. I felt all that - then took about a million photos anyway just to remind myself of the place.

Mosques really are the centres of communities and nowhere is this more apparent than in the courtyard of the Umayyad Mosque. Couples, familes and travellers recline under the cool arches and indulge in some welcome respite from the busy hub bub of the old city streets and souqs around it. You see some people talking, some people napping, some people praying and children chasing each other as they run in and out of the archways.

The mosque was built around 700 AD and its awe-inspring gold mosaics include a 37m long wall along the western arcade that depicts what Damascenes believe is the paradise that the Prophet Mohammed saw in Damascus. I wandered around enjoying the tranquility of the lovely, richly carpeted and enormous southern prayer hall and marvelled at the fact that the locals just got on with their prayers despite the many tourists taking photos and craning their necks to see the tiled magnificance of the underside of the domes. You do really notice that here - that islam is a religion but is much more a culture and just part of daily life. Locals go to the mosque to pray and to socialise. You will often see a store closed for just a few minutes as the shopkeeper either unrolls his prayer mat, turns to face Mecca and prays right there in his shop or quickly ducks out to the local mosque or prayer room to do the same.

I also visited the Iranian -built Shiite Sayyida Ruqayya Mosque in the old town. This mosque is dedicated to the daughter of the martyr Hussein (who was the son of Ali) and is a fascinating example of both religious devotion and gaudy interior design. The internal walls, ceiling and dome of the main prayer hall are covered in so many mirrored mosaic tiles that it actually hurts your eyes when they turn the chandeliers on. After recovering from the over powering glare I made my way to the women's section and sat on the thick carpet to observe for a while.

The women were kneeling and facing an ornate silver cage like structure which I think holds the remains of the daughter of Hussein. This is a site of sacred pilgrimage for Iranians and it was evident from the widespread weeping and wailing that most who visited it were truly overcome by the experience. It was really quite moving to witness such unguarded religious fervor...I think the daughter of Hussein may have been an infant when she died as many of the women, after kissing the silver structure and wiping their tears onto it, threw small dolls on to the top of her shrine.

I have always found when travelling alone that most of the time I adore the complete self-indulgence of the experience. Plans can change on any whim and no one complains when you stay in reading for a day because the book is just that good. But there are times when you feel a bit starved for conversation. Not lonely, just aware that somehow you have gone 3 days with the only phrases spoken being arabic for "hello", "Australian", "how much?" and "thank you". I was feeling just this way about a week ago when who should stroll across the courtyard as I ate my breakfast but Gillian - the Australian nurse I had met in Amman. So since then Gillian and I have been getting together for outings every second day or so and often chatting over our shared love of chocolate, nuts and all things kindle (and our despair that you cannot download any new books in Syria - damn American sanctions!).

It was with Gillian that I explored the National Museum. The great highlights of which for me were the lovely garden filled with statues they couldn't fit in the museum and seeing the tiny clay tablet showing the alphabet of Ugarit. The tablet contains 30 cuniform signs or letters of the Ugaritic alphabet, is from the late bronze age (1400BC) and is the first complete alphabet known of in the world. Thinking about how the development of a written alphabet changed the world really is mind blowing.

My first day trip out of Damascus was on Sunday when Gillian and I headed off to check out the Roman ruins at Bosra (see Elia I told you I would go there!). You could develop a serious case of roman ruin fatigue in this part of the world but thankfully that has not happened to me yet. Bosra contains a lovely theatre dating back to the 2nd century AD as well as some other ruins and colonnaded streets. The thing that makes Bosra different from the many other ruins in this part of the world is that the theatre, and indeed the entire town, was not built of limestone or sandstone but rather the easily available local building material : basalt. The black basalt lends the theatre and all the ruins a brooding atmosphere that is quite striking.

We enjoyed exploring all the dark, back corridors of the theatre but my favourite sights of the day were those instances where local practicalities met with ancient monuments. I love the fact that as the handful of tourists present were wandering and taking photos of the basalt columns, the colonnaded street was suddenly filled with sheep as a local sheperd moved his flock to find more tufts of grass poking up through the paving stones that are more than 1500 years old. A few times I lined up the "perfect" shot of the colonnaded street with the theatre in the background only to have a curious chicken wander into the foreground of the shot.

We also met another aussie, Craig, at the corner store in Bosra and ended up meeting up with him for some entertaining conversation and excellent food back in Damascus that evening. Walking through the main souq in the old town on our way back to the backpacker disrict, Craig was being followed by some fairly persistant toy salesmen. Gillian and I enjoyed the cultural norm that meant we were ignored and all sales enquiries were directed to our male friend. At least we were enjoying it until Craig deflected the salesman's attention back onto us by insisting that he could not make a purchase without first clearing it with his "wives"!

On Thursday Gillian and I again headed out of Damascus, this time with a driver and car, to visit the town of Qunietra. Qunietra was part of the Golan Heights before the six day war in 1967. It was occupied by the Israeli forces until 1973 when a UN brokered ceasefire saw the Israelies withdraw and the town was again back under Syrian control.

I really enjoyed the hour long drive to Qunietra, partly because I got to see the farmlands in the most fertile part of Syria, but mostly because Gillian and I got to pick the brain of our driver Ramis about his views of the current political situation in Syria. It is very difficult to find out what locals really think about the government as they can be jailed for expressing any anti-government sentiment. But the seclusion of the car allowed Ramis to explain some of the different social and political forces at play in the current situation. Ramis did hasten to add that once we arrived Qunietra, and would be joined by a member of the local security forces (they have to accompany you so you don't wander into a section still riddled with landmines), we would have to stop asking our questions otherwise he would get into lots of trouble.

The Syrian government has elected to leave the town of Qunietra untouched since the Israeli forces withdrew and it now serves as an excellent PR exercise to heighten anti - Israeli feelings amongst locals and visitors alike. As we drove through the town we saw that every single house had been destroyed. The roof sat on the remains of each house -  indicating that they had not been hit by bombs during the fighting (as the Israeli forces claim) but rather systematically destroyed with dynamite. According to the terms of the ceasefire the Israeli forces were supposed to withdraw peacefully from Qunietra and instead, they destroyed every home in the town and used the church, the mosque and the hospital for target practice. The sight of the 3 story hospital riddled with bullet holes was particularly arresting.

Our local security forces guy also took us to the UN patrolled observer zone that now exists as a 100m buffer zone between the border of Israel and Syria. It should be noted that at the time when the Israeli forces were supposed to peacefully withdraw from Qunietra, they got some of their captured soldiers back from Syria. These soldiers reported having suffered terrible torture at the hands of the Syrians and these reports no doubt influenced the Israeli forces actions at Qunietra. For his part, Ramis thinks the Syrian government could leave a couple of the building as monuments, whilst still rebuilding the majority of the town. This way the excellent farming soil would not be going to waste. I am inclined to agree with him. But in a region where who did what to whom first is almost impossible to prove - the Syrian government is naturally reluctant to part with such overwhelming evidence of Israeli brutality.