Suweida Trip 2

After we left the museum, Mahar drove us around the area to show us the many ruins, and I do mean many, in the area. Almost everywhere we went you could see the evidence of pas civilizations. His depth of knowledge was amazing. I will let the captions do most of the telling.

I think I remember this being the remains of a temple to Zeus

One of many undeveloped sites. They were all over the place. I visited at least 6 on this trip.

A partially restored structure that served many purposes in its life including a church.

This little nook, I was told is still being used as a Christian shrine.

Me in front of some pillars.

 

More incredible detail in stone carvings made nearly 20 centuries ago.

 

Me at one of the many doorways on this site.

Me at a different doorway at this site.

Roman era tombs same site.

I am going to further divide this huge post as it is getting late and I would like to get back to Damascus as early as possible. I hope to be able to gain access to both this site and Facebook soon, if not it may be a while befor the new posts appear.

Suweida Trip

 

Recently, I was invited to visit the city of Suweida which is in the southern hilly part of Syria about a 90 minute bus ride from Damascus. I was invited by a student named Khalid and was promised a tour by his uncle, who in addition to being a serious history buff, was the architect in charge of designing the Suweida museum, and many other  buildings in the city.

 

I was escorted to the bus station by Bian, another of Khalid’s uncles who lives near me. After an uneventful bus ride Khalid met me at the Suwaida bus station and drove me to his parents house where I met his family and after some conversation and a promise of a meal later, Mahar, Khalid’s uncle began the tour. The first stop was the Suwaida museum.

 

Khalid on the left, me, and Mahar on the left outside the museum.

 

Me on the other side of the museum.

Khalid’s uncle, Mahar, had been the head architect who designed this museum, and was a serious history buff who knew a lot about the history of Suweida and all of it’s ruins including recently uncovered ones. When we entered the museum I asked him if photos were ok and he told me he thought it wouldn’t be a problem but after the first shot I was told by the friendly curator that it wasn’t permitted.

 

This was the only picture I got inside the museum. This etched stone is from around 2000 bc

The pieces inside were amazing and dated from about 2000 B.C. to just a few hundred years ago. Most dated slightly pre Roman through the crusades. Inscriptions were in several languages and some which I took to be some form of Greek turned out to be something I had never heard of. The level of preservation seemed remarkable to me and were at least in part due to the very hard black basalt they were carved from. The most memorable of these carvings was a mostly complete and very well preserved depiction of the deity Ba’al Shamim, whose attributes seemed to be similar to the more familiar deities of Apollo and Zeus. It was depicted as a large eagle with outstretched wings and a turned head standing on a snake or with a snake wrapped around it’s feet. It’s similarity to many national symbols was striking.

 

A badly damaged depiction of Ba'al Shamim. The one inside the museum was mostly complete and spectacular. The resemblance to the national symbols of many countries, including our own, was unsettling.

The museum was laid out in a very organized linear fashion, which made it easy to get an overview of the long and complexed history of this area with it’s many different era’s.

 

The final room we visited was dedicated to mosaics of mostly the Roman period. These were phenomenal. Very large, detailed, and well preserved/restored they appeared to be the pride of the museum. And it was easy to see why. They were stored in a specially designed room with a translucent dome that acted as an enormous skylight. I really mourned not being able to use a camera inside the museum.

 

Under this dome is where the mosaics are displayed.

The 2nd stone from the left is what I believe to be an upper millstone.

 

After leaving the museum, Mahar drove us to several archaeological sites which I will describe mostly in captioned pictires in my next post.

Status update: Teaching in Damascus!

 

 

I haven’t posted for a while so an update on my status is in order. While in Damascus on my last trip I learned of an opportunity to teach English at the Berlitz institute there. Wow! Berlitz has been in business for 130 years and has centers in over 70 countries. A fantastic opportunity. I talked to them and everything looked good, so when I left, it was with the intention of returning after I fulfilled some commitments and obligations.

 

So about 6 hectic weeks later, I bid farewell to my friends and struck out for Damascus, with the intention of staying for at least a few months. I have now been there for 6 months and am intending to return for another 6 months. For those of you who don’t know, 6 months is kind of a magic number for visas. Normally you can extend a normal tourist visa in most countries for six months after which you must leave the country ( usually overnight is sufficient ) and obtain a new visa when you return. Having said that, with American citizens this is much more difficult in Syria because we are under much greater scrutiny than most other nationalities. Berlitz has a lot of resources and has made the usual renewal processes fairly easy. Without this connection I think it would be very difficult for me to reenter Syria. As it is I should, God willing, have a visa waiting for me at the border. 

 

 

 

My latest graduating class at Berlitz

 

A view of the Bramkeh area near Berlitz

 

 

My friend Hisham’s daughter Miriam

 

One of my favorite stores. I've never been in there mind you, I just like the marketing strategy that led to the name.

 

Mosaic for sale in Old Damascus. About a yard tall it can probably be had for about $300.

 

A close-up of the mosai

The Road to Damascus

 

 

 

 

 

Shortly after returning from Beirut I found out that one of my roommates had decided to move to Damascus, so we began to search for a replacement for him. He had been talking about his previous experience in Syria ever since I got to know him. And as the prospect of returning became more real, he began to prevail upon me to to travel with him. Not much prevailing was necessary, as I had been wanting to visit for some time. The only real reason that I had not tried to visit was that I had heard from several sources that it was somewhere between difficult and impossible. This was contradicted by Ben who had traveled a month prior to Syria with an American with little trouble but a long wait.

 

So on Saturday the 19th of April at about 8:30 am we left the apartment we had been sharing in Amman, and began our journey. The first stop was the British embassy in Amman where Ben had to pick up his new passport. This was accomplished quickly and from there we took a taxi to Abdalee in Amman where we would hire a taxi to Damascus. After bargaining we got a  service taxi (busses won’t take Americans due to the wait at the border) and we left Amman. We arrived at the border about 11 am where Ben got his visa in about 15 minutes. I was told that it would be between 30 minutes and never, so we released our taxi because we did not want to pay to have him wait a few hours and then be refused entry or get the visa too late in the day for him to take us across (Jordanian  taxi’s cannot cross the border into Syria after 3:30 pm). This proved to be a wise decision as I did not get my visa until nearly 4 pm. During this time we had secured another taxi to take us into Damascus and soon after getting my passport stamped we were on our way again and after a couple of more official stops, headed to the old city. Immediately after crossing the border the landscape changed becoming flatter and greener. 

 

On escorting us to the car our driver pointed out that his pants had been torn and said that he had to stop at his house and change. Neither of us had a problem with that so he turned of the main road and headed toward a town that looked to be about a mile down the road. We zig-zagged into the heart of this little town and pulled up to a gated courtyard where he tooted his horn,, said he would be right back and got out and went through the gate. As soon as he crossed the gate about half a dozen children swarmed in and around the car! It was like a pit-stop in a NASCAR race! Trash (and coins) were removed from various compartments and also a couple of tools which I thought was odd. The trunk was opened (I had seen some dry goods in there so thought nothing of it) and the children began removing some of the drivers things. We began to hear muffled clangings and bangings as if the jack and other tools were being moved and when it didn’t end right away we began to wonder what was going on. We peered through the gap between the trunk lid and the bottom of the window and saw them removing cigarettes from a hidden compartment in the trunk! We had caught a ride with a smuggler! Soon they had retrieved the last of their hidden cargo and after more noises had everything put back together and we were on our way again. Regrettably I did not get any pictures of this first stop in Syria.

First look at Damascus

 

 

 

On the outskirts of Damascus we were told that he wasn’t authorized to operate in the city itself, and he drove us to an underpass where there were several taxis waiting. Three hundred Syrian pounds (about $6 US) and about 20 minutes later we were standing at Al Bab Al Shar’i (The East Gate) of the old city of Damascus. Ben led me to the room he had reserved for himself for the next month which he would be sharing with me the next few days.

Another look at the historic East Gate

 

East Gate looking down Straight Street

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Courtyard at our house

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The house we were in was of traditional middle-eastern design with several small rooms surrounding a central courtyard. The owners were very hospitable serving us tea and cookies (and also a small amount of very strong Syrian style coffee in cups not much bigger than a thimble (thankfully) while the room was prepared. It was the most unusual coffee I have ever tasted. It was heavily laced with cardamom (normal for an Arabic coffee) as well as other spices I couldn’t identify, but what made it most unusual was that it was salty. I could probably have developed a taste for it at the cost of ever sleeping again. It was strong!

the door to the left is our room

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were shown to our room about 8 pm and after dropping our bags we went out for a bite to eat being joined by Ben’s American friend Dillon who had a room upstairs. Ben had been talking about Syrian food for the last two months and the first place he takes me to eat was a Italian restaurant! The lasagna was different but very good and after finishing we returned to our room for a well earned night’s sleep.

 

Our room

The best place to see my photos is at my facebook

page:http://www.facebook.com/photos.php?id=1485654007                                                         

I should soon have the rest edited and posted.

Beirut Trip

I apologize that I have been so negligent in posting but things have been pretty hectic. A couple of months ago I had to move to a new apartment so I found a place with a couple of British guys and shortly after getting that move out of the way, I had to leave the country for a day for visa reasons (routine). After much hand-wringing over costs I finally decided  to pay JD220 ($310 US) for a ticket to Beirut for an overnight stay with friends of friends as opposed to a similarly priced 4 night stay at an Egyptian beach resort. Mainly I did this to control hidden costs but also the Egypt trip involve a long day of travel each way, by bus and ferry.

 

The view of Lebanon from the air was spectacular particularly the coast near Beirut. Regrettably I did not have my camera handy on the flight out Amman. I had been expecting to see sand beaches and resort hotels, but instead, saw a very interesting combination of sand and rock shoreline with what looked like slums and damaged or unfinished buildings in the background. When I asked about this later I was told that this area was controlled by Hammas, and going there to get  pictures would be a really bad idea. 

 

In the airport I  realized that I had foolishly forgotten to write down my host’s phone number and address and, since there was no wireless access in the airport I was simply stuck. After a wait of about an hour and a half I was finally able to explain that someone was probably waiting for me at the exit, and someone escorted me to the front of the airport where my contact was waiting. I got the information from him and was on my way. I was a little surprised by what seemed to be a lot of soldiers at the airport and on the streets. It turns out that there really were a lot of soldiers but, not as many as I thought as the police use a very similar uniform. I also saw several pieces of armor stationed at intersections in the city. I didn’t think it was a good idea to photograph those.

 

I was hosted by a friend of a friend named Matthew and his wife Kristi who were very gracious hosts indeed.  They fed me like a king (Kristi is a great cook) and dinner was mexican food! Matthew had earlier given me a quick tour while going to pick up the groceries. I was interested to see the number of old and seemingly abandoned buildings, most showing the signs of armed conflict, which were sitting side by side with new buildings. 

 

The overall look and feel of the city seemed european, rather than middle-eastern, with almost no traditional dress at all. Another surprise was that it seemed fewer people spoke english in Beirut than Amman. As I mentioned earlier I was only to stay one night, so I really didn’t get to see all that much, but, what I did see made me decide to try to get back to Lebanon when I had the leisure to do so.

After dinner Matthew made arrangements for my taxi ride back to the airport the next day, and insisted on paying for it as he had the ride from the airport. I resolved to have my camera available for the return trip, and the next morning I got to the airport and boarded the plane without incident. I got a few pictures on the flight and  arrived back in Amman about 2 pm and got home about 2 hours later.

The best place to view these pictures is on my facebook page:

 

 

http://www.facebook.com/photos.php?id=1485654007

Money, language, and uh, other stuff.

Money here is about the same as everywhere except it looks a little different. One Jordanian Dinar is exchanges for $1.42 US. The real difference is in the way it  is handled. Simply put at first glance there seems to be a shortage of small bills. Getting change from a taxi driver is not unlike extracting blood from a stone. You are led to believe that he doesn’t have any, but when it’s finally made clear that you simply don’t have anything smaller, a large wad of singles will frequently (but not always) appear from nowhere. Taxi drivers are not the only source of vexation. When paying a JD83 electric bill at the post office (that’s where you pay’em here) I handed them two 50’s and they scrambled around for ten minutes rounding up change. I even had a friend who was making a withdrawal from his bank and was refused more than five 1’s! In point of fact almost everyplace, except larger supermarkets, may give you trouble over anything larger than JD5 over your purchase. With one very notable exception. The little minibuses which only cost JD0.25 (a quarter) to ride will not even bat an eye when handed a 20. Nobody (including Jordanians) can explain this phenomena.

As to language, Arabic is quite difficult. Many of the difficulties occur because the written language is so different from the spoken. The written is pretty much the same as the classical which I studied back in ‘82 ( not that I remembered enough to read a paper), but the Jordanian dialect is actually quite different (and it’s the nearest dialect to the classical) with only about 20 % of the vocabulary that I’ve learned so far overlapping. I won’t bore you with the details but very few people understood the classical arabic I used when I arrived. An amusing for instance was the first time I took a bus. I was walking around asking “Wain al-hafla?” which is “Where’s the bus?” in classical. I had been getting very odd looks and a couple of people weren’t quite able to stifle their laughter and I was very frustrated. I eventually found the right bus, and about a week later I found out that in this dialect hafla means party. So I had been asking “Where’s the party?”! Hmph! Typical American! I will illustrate the language difficulties later on a separate page for those interested.

Jordan is a desert country and as a result water is a precious commodity, and must be conserved. Water usually only flows one day per week in most places, and is quite expensive when compared to the US. It runs to storage tanks on the roof and is automatically shut off when the tanks are full. This results in all of the high water use tasks being done on the same day, such as laundry and major cleaning. Of course, there are a few things which cannot be so scheduled, such as showers and, uh, other stuff. Those with a weak constitution may want to skip the rest of this paragraph. It concerns “potty” etiquette. After hearing of how the water situation worked, upon inquiring, I was told “If it’s brown, flush it down. If it’s yellow, let it mellow”. Catchy, no? But wait, there’s more! One does no throw used TP in the toilette! No! It must go into a small trash (or choose your own word here) can which is placed conveniently next to the toilette! And the penalty for violations? It may foul up the whole septic system (I’ve heard of this but not experienced it) or (as in the one single instance that I forgot) it must be fished out!!! Now you know why I’ve only forgotten once. This topic is a virtual gold mine of mirth, and I may choose to more fully explore it later.

My neighborhood, weddings, and the suq

I will start this post by admitting how negligent I have been. The first post I made came after I had been here for about 3 months. SO, rather than try to be chronological with the next few posts I will try to catch up by posting on major subjects and events. This will allow me to return to a subject and add thoughts and recollections with minimum hassles.

My neighborhood is named Jebel Luwebdeh. Jebel is the Arabic word for mountain or hill. Originally Amman was said to be built on seven hills. Jebel Luwebdeh is one of them and now reflects the name of the neighborhood. The names of the others are also reflected in the names of other neighborhoods such as Jebel Hussein, Jebel Amman and so on. Jebel Luwebdeh is considered by most to be the cultural center of the city. Although it seems quite small when walking around, it is home to numerous embassies, art galleries and studios, political and cultural organizations, mosques, churches and so forth. With all of this activity going on you would expect a lot of hustle and bustle, but is in fact usually a fairly placid place to live. When a wedding happens it can gridlock the entire neighborhood. I witnessed this the first time I ever saw a wedding in progress a couple of weeks after arriving here. I was walking back from the supermarket (about the size of a large convenience store) when I noticed that the traffic seemed quite heavy. As I moved along I began to hear what sounded like bagpipes and drums. As I walked by a large church I became aware that that was the origin of all the fuss. It was here that traffic was at a complete stop. The traffic was at a standstill the rest of the way home, which was quite some distance. There were some upset people in that line. 

The weddings here are quite a spectacle. The bagpipe sounds were coming from an instrument that looked like something a snake-charmer would use. The drums looked like large tambourines  and were stuck with drumstick that had a fat round tip. The group I saw were all men about fifteen or twenty in all most of whom had an instrument, and let me tell you, they were flat gettin’ busy!  They were singing, dancing, playing their instruments, and hopping around. And they were good enough that at first I thought that they were professionals. A couple of them looked tired enough to pass out. It looked like a heck of a party. I hope to be able to post a video at some point. I had never seen anything like it. Now of course I have seen this kind of thing several times. And the fun doesn’t stop there. When the ceremony and major partying are over they drive around in a big caravan shouting and honking their horns. A couple of times they were honking in a kind of a tune. This can go on(and frequently has) into the wee hours of the morning.

At one end of the neighborhood is the King Abdullah Mosque, which i think may be the most impressive one I’ve seen, and at the other end is a staircase which leads down into the center of the city (the older part) which is called the Balad. On fridays which are the muslim sabbath there is a suq (pronounced sook) or market not far from the King Abdullah Mosque in a section of town called Abdelee. I had been to this a couple of times in the afternoon and had been impressed with the experience but the first morning visit was unforgettable. It was about 6:30 am (I had been told to be early for the best selection) and I needed a pair of shoes so I wanted to beat the crowd. I had been hearing what I thought was traffic noise for most of the way there but as I got closer I realized that I was hearing human voices. A lot of voices. I was still several blocks away and I was convinced that it was some sort of political riot. I was about to turn back when I remembered that I had my camera on me and thought that I may as well have a look. Thinking to turn around when things began to look unsafe, I proceeded to a cross street which would lead down to where the suq was supposed to be. When I saw women and children heading that way I realized that it was the suq I was hearing! There seemed to be only a couple of hundred vendors but the noise level was like a stadium full of sports fans! Each vendor was shouting at the top of his lungs! There was an amazing variety of goods for sale from produce to nargilas (traditional arabic water-pipes) and everything in-between. I looked around for about an hour before getting what I had come for and heading back.

1st day in Amman

I will start this post by saying that I have a sleep disorder called sleep apnea. This means that I need a piece of equipment called a CPAP machine to sleep properly. The first thing that I did to prepare for bed was to plug in this device. It is designed to come on immediately without turning on a switch, which it did for about 0.1 second. It is clearly labelled as a dual voltage appliance so I assumed that the outlet was flakey. After trying several outlets with no success I finally tested the outlets with a small lamp and found no problem so I checked the machine and I found 2 blown fuses and a switch  to change from 110 to 220. Not good.

So, after a mostly sleepless night I got up and took a sort walk to have a look around. Amman is a very hilly place which looks a lot like I expected. The streets are somewhat narrow and the houses are built all the way up and down the steep hills. They use stone almost exclusively. I imagine wood is quite expensive here, and they seem to reuse almost all of it discarding very little. The place where I am staying is built not unlike a castle ( a popular style ) with a steel gate from the street, a steel outer door leading to a short hallway, and finally a steel inner door to the apartment. These are all very solid and there are steel shutters ( they remind me of roll-up  garage doors ) on all the windows. I am on the bottom floor (of three ) and could literally jump from my back porch to the roof of the 3 story building behind ( they build on very steep hills ).  The views are very nice from my neighborhood which is called Jebel Luwebdeh ( I’ve seen it spelled a dozen different ways. This is how it sounds to me when a taxi driver says it) as it is built on the top of  a hill (jebel), one of seven that the city was originally  built on. I have included some pictures below of some views from within a couple of hundred yards of my door. My morning walk used to include 5 staircases just like the one in the picture, all up.

view from the back porch

another view from the back porch

a view up my street ( Dhirar Bin Al-Aswar St. )

A view from up the street

another view from just up the street

one of the many staircases leading to the Balad

Anyway, Donald showed up the next day at about 11 am and gave me a tour of the surrounding area, and took me to a grocery store and a mall. The mall seemed huge because it had 3 floors but was all on a single wing, unlike American malls which are usually the other way around. It really wasn’t all that different from what we have in the states. Likewise the grocery store was like a Super Walmart, only smaller, selling mostly  food on the bottom floor and clothing and other items on the second floor. I must tell you after saying this that this mall (Citi (pronounced city)Mall is the largest in the country, likewise the grocery store (Carrefore, a French owned chain) is also the largest in the country.

After getting the groceries back to the apartment Donald dropped the car off at a friends place (they were borrowing it ) and we took a taxi ( a hair-raising adventure that I will describe later) in search of the fuses I needed for my CPAP machine. The exact match proved impossible to find (I’ll spare you the boring technical details) and I settled for what I thought would work, and we headed back to my apartment and some much needed sleep. 

The next evening I had dinner with Donald and his family. They proved very gracious hosts. Donald’s wife Lorri is a fabulous cook, and their five (5? Holy smokes!) young boys proved very entertaining. They seemed dumfounded that an old fart like myself could know so much about their favorite superheroes (I was a big comic book fan when I was young). When Donald is seen by Arabs with his sons they say “Abu Wilad!” which is a nickname (meaning father of boys) given to men with numerous sons and is a very big compliment. If on the other hand he had 5 daughters he would be “Abu Binat” which is a term of mild derision (usually used jokingly). Arab men are very impressed with 5 sons (especially with only one wife and no daughters). Actually I have not yet met any Jordanian who has more than one wife. I’m not sure if it’s even allowed in Jordan.

The things that have struck me most about Jordan since arriving are actually the similarities. Most American fast-food brands are available (and here just about everybody delivers including McDonalds), almost everybody in the city speaks english (most of them better than my Arabic),and most of what is available in the states can be found here (if you know where to look and are willing to pay the price). There are however differences. I will go into differences and similarities in subsequent posts.

The adventure begins!

I have been here for about three months now, so the first few posts will be recollections and I will try to be caught up to present in a couple of weeks.

The trip over was long but uneventful. The first leg was from Orlando to Chicago, and after a layover of about 10 hours I boarded the Royal Jordanian flight to Amman. There were, as expected, mostly Jordanians on this flight and I was struck by the wide variety in dress. Most of the men were dressed in the western style with a few wearing the traditional headcovering and robe, and the clothing of the women ranged from provocative to traditional ( hijab ), although I don’t recall seeing anyone veiled. I was quite surprise by this, as I expected all the women to be conservatively dressed. I was further surprised by the crew serving alcohol and playing an R rated movie (discreetly blurred in some places). Shortly after touching down, before the plane stopped a steward walked back from the front and opened a compartment and took out a huge shopping bag prominently marked “Victoria’s Secret” and handed it to an elderly woman dressed in full hijab! She didn’t seem uncomfortable in the least. I conquered the urge to laugh but it was really quite funny.                                                                                                                                              

I arrived in Amman at about 10 PM on the 17th of September. My very first impression was of how small the airport was. I seem to recall only one baggage carousel. Getting through the visa and passport control was remarkably fast and after waiting a few short minutes for my bags, a man who seemed to be a porter picked them up and motioned for me to follow. So, like a dutiful sheep I followed him to an x-ray machine and loaded everything on the belt. On the other side he picked up the bags and again I followed toward some doors which I thought would lead to customs. About that time I recognized Donald (my contact in Amman, to whom I had been introduced in the states) I also realized that the doors led outside and not to customs. Confused, I asked Donald where customs was and he indicated that the x-ray machine was customs! Wow! From plane to car in 45 minutes! I was expecting to be there for hours.

    I was driven to an apartment that I would be staying in for a while which belonged to a friend of a friend who was in the States for a couple of months. After giving me a quick tour of the place, Donald left telling me that he would return the next day to show me around town. It was about midnight local time and it had been about 40 hours since I had last slept so I got quickly to bed.