Travel26
With our vast accumulated wisdom we have upgraded to the VIP bus this time (the windows are cleaner for sure) and are now sitting, waiting in our slot for takeoff. For at least 24 more minutes. A beautiful clear day in Aleppo. The two buses next to us have taken off and now another has just pulled in. Buses from this station go to Istanbul, Tehran, Baghdad, Aman, Beirut and hopefully to our destination which is Tripoli.
Overall the hustling here in Syria was less demanding than in Turkey, although by number shoeshine boys per capita are about the same. Yesterday a boy from Charles Dickens central casting practically attached himself to Bernadette's leg in his attempt to convince her she needed a shine but later while I was out alone possibly the same boy (certainly one very like him) persisted beyond my initial ignoring of him only briefly before his 10 year old boss dragged him away. As I was at the time in a brief but very sincere sober contemplation about rates of monetary exchange perhaps the older boy recognized the emotion as one he himself faces and so gave me a pass on the hustling. We were however later kindly and politely hustled by a fluent english speaking Syrian Lothario who in the end only wasted slightly more than an hour of my time and only cost Bernadette sixty something American for the silver necklace he led us to deep in the souk.
The two Americans have been graced with good luck at both Syrian border crossings but whereas the one in was by private taxi and took ten minutes this one out is on the bus with forty others of varying nationality and well...now we are finally out in just under 2 hours. But as often can be the case it wasn't the Americans slowing things down for everybody at the border. Next stop a few minutes away, Tripoli, a reputed hell hole, but alas, where by paternal grandparentage, I am from.
...more recent posts
Travel223
The only time I get to watch TV these days is on the bus from Damascus to Palmyra. We stayed at a very nice boutique hotel in Damscus, the Beit Rose, in the old town and even though you have to put your toilet paper in a trash can instead of down the crapper the accommodations and service were most agreeable. The toilet paper thing is not as bad as you would think, except perhaps for the housekeeper. I didn't tip her enough for that but hopefully the fresh picked Lebanese orange, the delicious banana from last night's fruit plate and the complimentary travel bag from Turkish Air left behind in addition to the small change will relay to her our best intentions. This high fiber Middle Eastern diet is very friendly to one's colon
I thought we were watching on this bus to Palmyra something like the A Team in Arabia but maybe the show changed while I was focused on writing this because the tinny speaker over my head was just now briefly playing some little Michael Jackson riff. In the back of this bus of Syrian's and maybe a Jordanian or two and some Bedouins we are two Americans, three French, and one young Japanese.
Palmyra ostensibly had some kind of temple here before the Romans came and added their distinctive flavor all spread over an area of a few hundred acres at least. Bedouins on 125 cc 40 year old motorcycles zig zag along the pathways offering rides to the further reaches for a fee or extending arms covered in inexpensive beads and with refreshing humor hounding Bernadette and I until I bought not once but twice from him. Those first ones were just glass and plastic he confessd to me. I like plastic and glass I said and after he had hoisted upon me three more "valuable" necklaces to add to the three previous cheap ones bought earlier, and a thrown in hematite necklace and a small silver camel all for only 1000 Syrian pounds (about 20 bucks) I told him ok my friend we have done good business here today but if I see you again before we leave here today I am going run away from you as fast as I can and then showed to his smiling face an example of my speed.
something crawled up inside me and died yeaterday evening so I slept little and feel a liitle upset in the stomach this morning. I told Bernadette to go off to the Tombs without me then I will join her and our hired driver for a visit to the castle above Palymra and then we will venture more into the dessert on thus rainy day, towards Iraq a bit and then north, stopping at a couple of dead cities on the way before bedding down for the next couple of days in Aleppo.
The only time I get to watch TV these days is on the bus from Damascus to Palmyra. We stayed at a very nice boutique hotel in Damscus, the Beit Rose, in the old town and even though you have to put your toilet paper in a trash can instead of down the crapper the accommodations and service were most agreeable. The toilet paper thing is not as bad as you would think, except perhaps for the housekeeper. I didn't tip her enough for that but hopefully the fresh picked Lebanese orange, the delicious banana from last night's fruit plate and the complimentary travel bag from Turkish Air left behind in addition to the small change will relay to her our best intentions. This high fiber Middle Eastern diet is very friendly to one's colon
I thought we were watching on this bus to Palmyra something like the A Team in Arabia but maybe the show changed while I was focused on writing this because the tinny speaker over my head was just now briefly playing some little Michael Jackson riff. In the back of this bus of Syrian's and maybe a Jordanian or two and some Bedouins we are two Americans, three French, and one young Japanese.
Palmyra ostensibly had some kind of temple here before the Romans came and added their distinctive flavor all spread over an area of a few hundred acres at least. Bedouins on 125 cc 40 year old motorcycles zig zag along the pathways offering rides to the further reaches for a fee or extending arms covered in inexpensive beads and with refreshing humor hounding Bernadette and I until I bought not once but twice from him. Those first ones were just glass and plastic he confessd to me. I like plastic and glass I said and after he had hoisted upon me three more "valuable" necklaces to add to the three previous cheap ones bought earlier, and a thrown in hematite necklace and a small silver camel all for only 1000 Syrian pounds (about 20 bucks) I told him ok my friend we have done good business here today but if I see you again before we leave here today I am going run away from you as fast as I can and then showed to his smiling face an example of my speed.
something crawled up inside me and died yeaterday evening so I slept little and feel a liitle upset in the stomach this morning. I told Bernadette to go off to the Tombs without me then I will join her and our hired driver for a visit to the castle above Palymra and then we will venture more into the dessert on thus rainy day, towards Iraq a bit and then north, stopping at a couple of dead cities on the way before bedding down for the next couple of days in Aleppo.
Travel131
The cab driver Abu Ali drove us to Tyre (Tyr, Sur, Sour) yesterday, from whose beaches you can see Israel (according to the preamble of the guy on the beach trying to sell me fake artifacts after pointing towards Egypt across the sea and at Palestine as the middle of the visible land mass jutting distantly to the left), and we saw more archeology (Tyre dates back to 2750BC), wound our way through clean narrow streets or alleyways where open doors gave view into small tidy homes, briefly through a souk (outdoor yet often covered market) which for me exuded more exotic visual flavor than anything previously seen on this trip. When at the marina it began raining we were called over to the small corner shop/living room of a Christian fisherman and told to sit down. I saw bottles of whisky on his shelf and ordered a neat Dewars (back in Beirut in the hotel room we are drinking at the end of each day duty free Johnnie Walker Green Label). Bernadette ordered an espresso but the fisherman's espresso machine, such as it was, did not cooperate so she had a tea. The fisherman laid out olives and some packaged pita bread on the table. When it was time to go he charged us 10,000LBP (about $6.50) but I did not have a 10,000 note so he took my 20,000 note and offered no change. I was ok with it. The olives were very good.
Abu Ali was waiting for us in his red 75 Mercedes near the Al-Mina site. Today we are in a mid 70s Chevrolet Caprice Classic, driver's name unknown, veering around and in between cars on the mountain road 40 minutes east of Beirut, snow coming down, visibility a liitle better than zero. We just made a pit stop at a roadside store. The driver bought us espressos and introduced us to a money changer. We traded forty American into Syrian Pounds just to have some get started money.
We are headed into Damascus. The driver is making his fourth stop. At a bakery this time. We just stay in the car. The driver comes back and gives to Bernadette a handful of baked crunchy bread nuggets with sesame seeds and a hint of cinnamon sugar. Now he is smoking, the window barely cracked. There is a lot of smoking in Lebanon.
In Beirut you need not look for cabs because they look for you. As obvious as we are as tourists we get honked at a lot, just a short beep, not really too obnoxious. And at corners the drivers solicit you but also not in annoying fashion. Unlike the brazen touting in Turkey, especially at Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, where the hey look at my rugs, what I'm selling etc. can seem until calluses form hurtful and punishing.
But the Tyre day we had a plan which was to catch a cab to the Cola transport hub and then a bus to Tyre for maybe thirty bucks round trip. So we headed right out the hotel door and to the first guy waiting at the corner hailing us for his cab we said yes and got in. Our hotel had told us maybe 120 round trip by private taxi so when Abu Ali hearing of our bus plan quoted us 80 and said--good deal, good deal, we knew he wasn't just whistling something a Muslim might whistle. So that is how he became our driver and somewhat tour guide.
We did not ask him to take us to the Al-Bass archaeological site, he just took us there, and then to the Al-Mina, and then he parked and waited while we toured the old part of town for a long hour and then to a fish house across the street from the Sea Castle (Crusaders) in Sidon on the way back to Beirut, about a six hour commitment to us altogether.
We had Al-Bass mostly to ourselves. It is a quite expansive site. It is bordered on one side by a Palestinian refugee camp. At some point not ten minutes in to roaming around these three young boys, Palestinian, about ten to twelve years old sneak up on us all frieidly like so I just sort of motioned at my camera and they jumped right to posing. They asked Bernadette her name and she told them and the ask her my name and she told them, so I became Jeem, their English most rudimentary yet far exceeding our Arabic. In all there were maybe ten boys and I took a few shots of them climbing on the ruins ( or maybe I pointed to the ruins I wanted them to climb on until they quickly took to my suggestions. The boys were under the tutelage of some Muslim scholars, one of whom spoke English and let us know they were doing the Lord Allahs work by trying to teach the boys the lessons of the Koran. The boys were just having fun which I am sure Allah does not object to. We got back to Abu Ali without taking a proper look at the world class hippodrome but got a gander of it on the distance as the Palestinian boys raced off towards it.
The cab driver Abu Ali drove us to Tyre (Tyr, Sur, Sour) yesterday, from whose beaches you can see Israel (according to the preamble of the guy on the beach trying to sell me fake artifacts after pointing towards Egypt across the sea and at Palestine as the middle of the visible land mass jutting distantly to the left), and we saw more archeology (Tyre dates back to 2750BC), wound our way through clean narrow streets or alleyways where open doors gave view into small tidy homes, briefly through a souk (outdoor yet often covered market) which for me exuded more exotic visual flavor than anything previously seen on this trip. When at the marina it began raining we were called over to the small corner shop/living room of a Christian fisherman and told to sit down. I saw bottles of whisky on his shelf and ordered a neat Dewars (back in Beirut in the hotel room we are drinking at the end of each day duty free Johnnie Walker Green Label). Bernadette ordered an espresso but the fisherman's espresso machine, such as it was, did not cooperate so she had a tea. The fisherman laid out olives and some packaged pita bread on the table. When it was time to go he charged us 10,000LBP (about $6.50) but I did not have a 10,000 note so he took my 20,000 note and offered no change. I was ok with it. The olives were very good.
Abu Ali was waiting for us in his red 75 Mercedes near the Al-Mina site. Today we are in a mid 70s Chevrolet Caprice Classic, driver's name unknown, veering around and in between cars on the mountain road 40 minutes east of Beirut, snow coming down, visibility a liitle better than zero. We just made a pit stop at a roadside store. The driver bought us espressos and introduced us to a money changer. We traded forty American into Syrian Pounds just to have some get started money.
We are headed into Damascus. The driver is making his fourth stop. At a bakery this time. We just stay in the car. The driver comes back and gives to Bernadette a handful of baked crunchy bread nuggets with sesame seeds and a hint of cinnamon sugar. Now he is smoking, the window barely cracked. There is a lot of smoking in Lebanon.
In Beirut you need not look for cabs because they look for you. As obvious as we are as tourists we get honked at a lot, just a short beep, not really too obnoxious. And at corners the drivers solicit you but also not in annoying fashion. Unlike the brazen touting in Turkey, especially at Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, where the hey look at my rugs, what I'm selling etc. can seem until calluses form hurtful and punishing.
But the Tyre day we had a plan which was to catch a cab to the Cola transport hub and then a bus to Tyre for maybe thirty bucks round trip. So we headed right out the hotel door and to the first guy waiting at the corner hailing us for his cab we said yes and got in. Our hotel had told us maybe 120 round trip by private taxi so when Abu Ali hearing of our bus plan quoted us 80 and said--good deal, good deal, we knew he wasn't just whistling something a Muslim might whistle. So that is how he became our driver and somewhat tour guide.
We did not ask him to take us to the Al-Bass archaeological site, he just took us there, and then to the Al-Mina, and then he parked and waited while we toured the old part of town for a long hour and then to a fish house across the street from the Sea Castle (Crusaders) in Sidon on the way back to Beirut, about a six hour commitment to us altogether.
We had Al-Bass mostly to ourselves. It is a quite expansive site. It is bordered on one side by a Palestinian refugee camp. At some point not ten minutes in to roaming around these three young boys, Palestinian, about ten to twelve years old sneak up on us all frieidly like so I just sort of motioned at my camera and they jumped right to posing. They asked Bernadette her name and she told them and the ask her my name and she told them, so I became Jeem, their English most rudimentary yet far exceeding our Arabic. In all there were maybe ten boys and I took a few shots of them climbing on the ruins ( or maybe I pointed to the ruins I wanted them to climb on until they quickly took to my suggestions. The boys were under the tutelage of some Muslim scholars, one of whom spoke English and let us know they were doing the Lord Allahs work by trying to teach the boys the lessons of the Koran. The boys were just having fun which I am sure Allah does not object to. We got back to Abu Ali without taking a proper look at the world class hippodrome but got a gander of it on the distance as the Palestinian boys raced off towards it.
Travel129
We are the two American tourists in Beirut traversing the city on foot. There is a building boom here on a scale I have seen in few American cities. Everywhere we walk the most noticeable activity is the moving crane. It would appear at this point that no one here will accept less than forward progress. Sunni, Shia, Christian, also now apparently Syria as an entity distinct if not separate from their known platform as Hezbollah supporters, and the non-believers alike all have enough mortar pockmarked ruins to gaze upon to last them a lifetime and certainly enough to last them more than 15 years if you are clocking from the end of the Civil War, please don't even mention the last Israeli trespass in 2006.
From nightclub to restaurant to corner store the focus seems to be business as usual, let us know when you get that government thing straightened out. If there is some sort of domino thing going on in Northern Africa it would appear not exactly pertinent to life in Beirut, isolated minor riotous acts notwithstanding.
A local artist tells us "well maybe a few more tanks" (than usual) but the mood of the army men on the street here seems one of slightly lessened alert, almost as if the turmoil in Egypt is decreasing the intensity of the crisis here rather than exacerbating it. The army men seem curious about us, not that we as American tourists are so rare, yet at the same time I'm not seeing so many of us. We are off season. Did I mention the weather here in Beirut January is perfect. And they have Cheetoes. Oh I could winter in Beirut. Thank God, peace be upon Him, for Lebanon.
Bernadette and I hope to get down to Tyre tomorrow.
We are the two American tourists in Beirut traversing the city on foot. There is a building boom here on a scale I have seen in few American cities. Everywhere we walk the most noticeable activity is the moving crane. It would appear at this point that no one here will accept less than forward progress. Sunni, Shia, Christian, also now apparently Syria as an entity distinct if not separate from their known platform as Hezbollah supporters, and the non-believers alike all have enough mortar pockmarked ruins to gaze upon to last them a lifetime and certainly enough to last them more than 15 years if you are clocking from the end of the Civil War, please don't even mention the last Israeli trespass in 2006.
From nightclub to restaurant to corner store the focus seems to be business as usual, let us know when you get that government thing straightened out. If there is some sort of domino thing going on in Northern Africa it would appear not exactly pertinent to life in Beirut, isolated minor riotous acts notwithstanding.
A local artist tells us "well maybe a few more tanks" (than usual) but the mood of the army men on the street here seems one of slightly lessened alert, almost as if the turmoil in Egypt is decreasing the intensity of the crisis here rather than exacerbating it. The army men seem curious about us, not that we as American tourists are so rare, yet at the same time I'm not seeing so many of us. We are off season. Did I mention the weather here in Beirut January is perfect. And they have Cheetoes. Oh I could winter in Beirut. Thank God, peace be upon Him, for Lebanon.
Bernadette and I hope to get down to Tyre tomorrow.
Travel127
You would think considering we do nothing all day but sleep late and walk around looking at stuff and eat followed shortly after by planning what next to eat that I would have time to write something but no. We like this Babel cafe for Internet and friendly host and groovy music and that is where we are now waiting for a small mezze plate whle drinking the local beer, Efes. Demon took off for Paris this morning and Bernadette and I are a couple of hours away from catching the airport bus and then off to Beirut. I am happy being here in Istanbul and I am happy to finally be getting to Lebanon.
You would think considering we do nothing all day but sleep late and walk around looking at stuff and eat followed shortly after by planning what next to eat that I would have time to write something but no. We like this Babel cafe for Internet and friendly host and groovy music and that is where we are now waiting for a small mezze plate whle drinking the local beer, Efes. Demon took off for Paris this morning and Bernadette and I are a couple of hours away from catching the airport bus and then off to Beirut. I am happy being here in Istanbul and I am happy to finally be getting to Lebanon.
Travel118
The numbers after Travel mean dates but are now not literal only reflective of a faineant or qparsimonious nature.
The Demon and I had one last raki after another meal not topping any charts yet pleasant enough despite brief moments of hyper-criticism. Benadette has retired to get a fire started in our room in one of the cave hotels of Cappadoccia. I'm not a travel guide, read one of many or three reputable sources of travel guiding for Turkey if you are curious for detail. We are currently in Goerme, a town in the region of Cappadoccia. I have framed a number of nice photos, unfortunately many of them requiring a time of day (and thus lighting scheme) at odds with the one in which I exist.
There have been some nice photos also taken on the last two generations of iPhone and at least a few of these I will forward by email to our webmaster, unless we have exhausted the outrageously priced data plans for foreign travel that only one of us carries and then you who have asked will just have to wait but thank you for your enthusiasm, interest, and impatience. All the stuff I have mentioned like that mosque and bazzar and topkapi which I missed while dying of flu and some other things I haven't mentioned because while not dying was stilll fairly well delirious and not that well cognizant of anything that happened more than twenty minutes ago are highly available on the Internet done professionly in tripduplicate.
But no, only one rainy day so far. A pretty fair amount of sun, highs in the forties. Some frost/snow in Cappodocia but it's not black. All in all you know this is no Midnight Express experience, which for any missing the reference is a good thing.
The numbers after Travel mean dates but are now not literal only reflective of a faineant or qparsimonious nature.
The Demon and I had one last raki after another meal not topping any charts yet pleasant enough despite brief moments of hyper-criticism. Benadette has retired to get a fire started in our room in one of the cave hotels of Cappadoccia. I'm not a travel guide, read one of many or three reputable sources of travel guiding for Turkey if you are curious for detail. We are currently in Goerme, a town in the region of Cappadoccia. I have framed a number of nice photos, unfortunately many of them requiring a time of day (and thus lighting scheme) at odds with the one in which I exist.
There have been some nice photos also taken on the last two generations of iPhone and at least a few of these I will forward by email to our webmaster, unless we have exhausted the outrageously priced data plans for foreign travel that only one of us carries and then you who have asked will just have to wait but thank you for your enthusiasm, interest, and impatience. All the stuff I have mentioned like that mosque and bazzar and topkapi which I missed while dying of flu and some other things I haven't mentioned because while not dying was stilll fairly well delirious and not that well cognizant of anything that happened more than twenty minutes ago are highly available on the Internet done professionly in tripduplicate.
But no, only one rainy day so far. A pretty fair amount of sun, highs in the forties. Some frost/snow in Cappodocia but it's not black. All in all you know this is no Midnight Express experience, which for any missing the reference is a good thing.
Travel117
Sultanhamet in the rain on Sunday, light weight hooded jacket and waterproof Australian boots nearly if not quite broken in but keeping me dry the three of us are walking through the shuttered empty Grand Bazzar talking to cats, so many street cats in Istanbul and a lesser amount of dogs, some of which have ear tags signifying their caught neutered and released status (this we learned much later in the day or actually early 2a.m. the next morning from the young molecular biologist bar back at the Pera Palace, we were its only customers), some or all of this out of sequence.
There is a flu moving around, all three of us may be having it. After that night at the Metal bar we lost a whole day, no one waking up before three in the afternoon, the snub by the Muslim guard at the Blue Mosque and subsequent admittance only to be fleeced by the tour guiding rug salesman's cousin a fading memory.
Sultanhamet in the rain on Sunday, light weight hooded jacket and waterproof Australian boots nearly if not quite broken in but keeping me dry the three of us are walking through the shuttered empty Grand Bazzar talking to cats, so many street cats in Istanbul and a lesser amount of dogs, some of which have ear tags signifying their caught neutered and released status (this we learned much later in the day or actually early 2a.m. the next morning from the young molecular biologist bar back at the Pera Palace, we were its only customers), some or all of this out of sequence.
There is a flu moving around, all three of us may be having it. After that night at the Metal bar we lost a whole day, no one waking up before three in the afternoon, the snub by the Muslim guard at the Blue Mosque and subsequent admittance only to be fleeced by the tour guiding rug salesman's cousin a fading memory.
Travel
The suitcase sits before me bulging, it's zippered teeth clenched laughably tight as if it might purposefully prevent the regurgitation of sweaters and socks. I feel like taking a break now and napping. I was up early collecting news stories on Lebanon in the hope that by the time we get there, if we get there, I will understand it. I'm not sure I am going to need the xanax to get to sleep on the 9.5 hour flight to Istanbul. At the same time I'm pretty sure I won't be able to resist popping a pill if I have one to pop. Bernadette is down in the basement perhaps making final arrangements with her employer. Her employer loves her and just yesterday said the day Bernadette quits is the day she the employer would retire. I said that is a fine vote of confidence to have the day before you go off galavanting for a month. We are about ready to leave for JFK. Traffic was slow and the ride to JFK was bordered with black snow. We are traveling the first part of the trip with a Costa Rican guy who is known by some as the Demon. Bernadette has breezed through the first part of the security check point and I am waiting to be gleaned worthy of forward progress by an ex middle linebacker...I'm sorry to be abrupt but I must post now because I am In a free wifi zone. Let me just assure you though, Istanbul is off the hook.
The suitcase sits before me bulging, it's zippered teeth clenched laughably tight as if it might purposefully prevent the regurgitation of sweaters and socks. I feel like taking a break now and napping. I was up early collecting news stories on Lebanon in the hope that by the time we get there, if we get there, I will understand it. I'm not sure I am going to need the xanax to get to sleep on the 9.5 hour flight to Istanbul. At the same time I'm pretty sure I won't be able to resist popping a pill if I have one to pop. Bernadette is down in the basement perhaps making final arrangements with her employer. Her employer loves her and just yesterday said the day Bernadette quits is the day she the employer would retire. I said that is a fine vote of confidence to have the day before you go off galavanting for a month. We are about ready to leave for JFK. Traffic was slow and the ride to JFK was bordered with black snow. We are traveling the first part of the trip with a Costa Rican guy who is known by some as the Demon. Bernadette has breezed through the first part of the security check point and I am waiting to be gleaned worthy of forward progress by an ex middle linebacker...I'm sorry to be abrupt but I must post now because I am In a free wifi zone. Let me just assure you though, Istanbul is off the hook.
2010 Snow
The Plowing
There was a considerable amount of snow that fell. A friend found a semi-naked semi-conscious woman half buried in a snow bank. He saved her. Plowing did not occur rapidly enough in some neighborhoods. People died. Lack of plowing was added to the list of why people die. Political ramifications were explored. Some people believe heads will roll. More death. Following the great snowfall there were a number of sunsets and sunrises, the snow turned black, and melted, and a number of other things happened which pushed the talk of snow to the side, as if the talk of snow was snow, and the other things happening were a plow.
There was a considerable amount of snow that fell. A friend found a semi-naked semi-conscious woman half buried in a snow bank. He saved her. Plowing did not occur rapidly enough in some neighborhoods. People died. Lack of plowing was added to the list of why people die. Political ramifications were explored. Some people believe heads will roll. More death. Following the great snowfall there were a number of sunsets and sunrises, the snow turned black, and melted, and a number of other things happened which pushed the talk of snow to the side, as if the talk of snow was snow, and the other things happening were a plow.