Eee Kurashige's blog

December 12, 2007

I feared for my life today.  No, it wasn’t because there was a terrorist attack or a bombing.  No.  It was because I was in a car that was going about 80 mph that kept bottoming out every time there was a dip in the road that we were traveling on.  Don’t get me wrong, I like driving fast, but not when there is a crazy Syrian driver behind the wheel.

 

Falak and I went with Mohammed (he was one of the exchange participants) and his family’s driver to a place called Halabia and Zalabia.  In ancient times, this used to be one city, but then the river made them two.  Now, there is a really old, scary, ghetto bridge that connects the two cities.  Also, right next to the river are some ancient ruins that were inhabited by the Ottomans.

 

It was interesting to see this bit of ancient history.  We walked around the ruins and took pictures.  Then we drove across the really old, scary, ghetto bridge.  OMG!  I thought I was surely going to die at this point.  The bridge was built by the French in the early 1900s.  There is only room for one car at a time and you drive across these wooden pillars that are all lined up together (the name for these pillars escapes me currently).  But once your car starts driving on this bridge, EVERYTHING creaks and you see the whole bridge move.  It sounds like thunder.  It is a floating bridge with metal structures for support.  You can only go like 2 mph on it, otherwise, you would break it and die, I think.  I told Falak that this would never fly in America.  It would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

 

Anyway I think that the Syrian driver had a twisted sense of humor because he drove us across AND back, just to torment us.  I think he just wanted to see us squeal!  Sicko.

 

Then it was the death ride back to town where we almost got into a head on collision…ya allah!  

 

A couple of days ago, I noticed that Omar has a small collection of foreign money, so I gave him my only America money that I had left on me; two quarters and one penny.  He was so happy.  It totally made his day.  He shouted with a big smile on his face in English, “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” And he shook my hand.  I couldn’t help but laugh because he was so excited.  Now, I never see him without his money collection, but he always keeps the American money separate.  I guess it’s “special.” 

BTW, tampons do exist here!  You have to get them at the pharmacy, but no woman uses them! haha...

December 11, 2007

Every morning I wake up and I think that I am in the West, but then I look out the window and I see that this is clearly not the case.  Every morning has been like this for me and it takes a few moments for me to adjust to reality.

 

Today I had an Arabic lesson and Omar was my teacher.  I read from his second grade Arabic book.  He made me read his favorite lesson, which is about the revolution.  I felt so dumb because these words are complicated.  He would help me out by pronouncing the words first and then I would repeat them.  Then he wanted to read the lesson himself and have me repeat after him!  Haha….he’s such a little drill sergeant!  To mix things up a bit, I made him read for me in English.  He is actually a good reader and I was impressed.  I just had to laugh at the fact that I am learning to read Arabic from a second grader!

 

Tonight we went out to “Leilati” or “My Night.”  It is a restaurant/café here in Deirezzor.  I ate pizza.  Who would have ever thought that I would be eating pizza in Syria!  Yeah, add that to the list of, “Things that blow Emily’s mind.”  Anyway, it was good, but they don’t add tomato sauce to it.  When we got up to leave, we got the evil eye from an old gap-toothed woman and her daughter and grand daughter.  Man!  Talk about rude!  These ladies were staring at us so hard and were whispering to each other.  They were trying to avoid direct contact by keeping their eyes somewhat focused down.  But it was so obvious, they were sitting right next to us.  Falak and Nadia couldn’t figure out why these ladies were hating on us!  It made me angry and I almost said to them, “Why don’t you take a picture?  It will last you a lot longer!”  But, I bit my tongue and walked out in a huff. 

 

After our meal, we walked passed the Latin Church, so we decided to drop in and say hello to the nice Lebanese Friar guy.  We felt awkward and out of place, esp. Falak and her sister, Nadia.  We walked inside the church, but there was nobody there, so Falak asked some guys who were outside hanging Christmas lights where we could find the Friar.  We rang the doorbell, but there was no answer, so we decided to leave.  Just as we were walking away we heard a voice and we shouted to him that we were looking for the Lebanese brother.  He let us in and we sat down in the welcoming room.  Turns out the Friar was out getting the car washed!  So we talked to this brother whose name is Fadi. 

 

Falak and Nadia were SO worried that Brother Fadi would find out that they are Muslim and they were scared.  I told them not to worry about it because these Brothers are very nice and welcoming people.  Finally, the Lebanese Friar (whose name we found out is Raeed) returned and he chatted us up a bit.  I like him because his English is good and he is extremely hilarious and very nice.  Both him and Fadi were very nice to Falak and Nadia, despite the fact that they are Muslim.  These Brothers truly do not care and are welcoming to anyone who comes to their door.  Brother Raeed asked us if we had seen Sister Cleetis (I have no idea how to spell her name) and we said no, that we had no idea where the sisters are located in the church.  Plus, it was too late to call on them (it was 10pm by this time). 

 

Brother Raeed then showed us the nativity scene that he built in the sanctuary for Christmas and it was very impressive.  It had lights to represent stars and everything.  He was explaining to us how the nativity scene was started by St. Francis of Acici.  He was telling us that he will put up a fence around it to keep people from breaking it. 

 

It was very good to see the Brothers.  They are truly very kind and nice people.  They have good hearts and if I could, I would visit both the Brothers and the Sisters every day!  Hopefully I will get to see the sisters soon!

 

Tonight, us girls had “the talk” about tampons (which BTW, DO NOT exist in Syria!  Sad face) and various other things.  You know, the usual girl talk…Anyway, it was interesting to see how our two cultures are very different. 

 

When we got home, Falak’s father said to me that he went to the barber today and his barber told him that he had seen a foreign woman walking on the streets about one or two hours prior!  I’m only assuming that at that moment, Falak’s father told the barber that the foreign woman is staying with his family!  Wow…I can’t believe it.  I can’t go out without getting some kind of attention; good or bad.

    

December 9, 2007

This morning, I went to an Armenian Orthodox Church.  It was a very beautiful church.  Falak, her mother, her mother's friend and I all went together.  The only way we were able to get inside is because Falak's mother has a friend who goes to this church.  Otherwise, they would never let Muslims in.  We walked in and of course, stood out like sore thumbs because there were only about 15 people there.  The entire service was in Armenian and so none of us could understand what was going on.  I'm not Catholic, so I don't make the symbol of the cross.  It was very awkward, even for me because this was my first time at an orthodox service.  When it came time for communion, Falak's mother's friend came over to me and gestured that I put a veil over my head in order to receive communion.  This one lady who was sitting next to us did not like the fact that I was going up for communion and told our friend that I couldn't do this because I'm not Christian.  Our friend told her that it was ok; that I was a Christian.  When I got back to my seat, she very rudely asked me if I was Christian and I told her yes.  Then she made another rude comment to Falak and me that we should stand during the last prayer.  I was like, who the heck are you, lady?  And who are you to judge?  I couldn't believe how rude she was to us. 

 

After the service, we were invited to have tea with everyone.  I end up sitting next to the rude lady.  So, I start talking to her and come to find out, she is Baghdad, Iraq and she and her family fled Iraq about 5 years ago to Syria due to the persecution that all of the Christians were are still are facing there.  She talked about how when Saddam ruled, he was nice to the Christians and that he was told by other Arab leaders to kick the Christians out of Iraq.  He said no; that Iraq was his garden and the Christians were his flowers.  How could he cut his own flowers?  She then went on to talk about how hard life has been for her and how she was lost many people during many wars and how she doesn't want her children to grow up the same way.  Tears came to her eyes when she said these words.  It broke my heart.  She was also saying that life in America is very easy compared to the rest of the world.  I told her yes, it is easy for us.  What else could I say?  But she did apologize for saying that I couldn't take communion because she didn't know that I was Christian.  I forgave her, but I could also see that she's had a very hard life, too.

 

Then, Falak's uncle took us out for a guided tour of Deirezzor in his car.  It was very lovely.  We sat on the riverside and drank cappuccinos and talked and laughed, but this time, it was mostly in Arabic, so I just had to make my own little world.  It was still nice, though. 

 

In the afternoon, Falak's Christian neighbor took us to a Latin Catholic Church for a 5 o'clock service.  This church experience was much better than this morning.  There were way more people here and the priest actually cracked a smile and laughed a little!  This service was in Arabic and Latin, so Falak could translate for me the Arabic parts, which was nice.  Again, it was a beautiful church, but this time, I didn't dare go and take communion for fear of being chastised again like this morning.  There were many more people at this service and I really didn't want to make a scene.  After the service, Falak's neighbor introduced me to a monk and a nun.  The monk is from Lebanon and the nun is from India.  They were both so nice and welcoming and said that if I needed anything while I'm here, to just come and knock on the door.  It was very good to talk with them.  Tonight was also a bonus because we saw some cute guys!  This town is so small; we walked around town after church and went into a jewelry shop that was run by some of the guys who we saw at the Latin church.

 

Unfortunately, Christians don't generally let Muslims into their churches here.  They have guards at the front gates to keep an eye on things. 

 

EVERYONE wants to come to America.  Even tonight, Falak's mom asked if I would marry one of Falak's brothers (Mohammed) to give him the American nationality.  They all dream about going to America.  When I hear people talking like this and about how much they want to go to America and how easy life is in America, this puts me in a very difficult place because I am American and I was lucky enough to be born there.  It's extremely difficult for Syrians to come to America, but that is the dream here for many people.  It makes me want to help everyone that I can.  Unfortunately, this probably won't happen, so all I can do is love them and try to help them here.  It‘s a very frustrating thing.

 

Some random and fun facts:  Generally, I have been very busy and entertained here during these past few days.  The main meal is lunch and we eat this around 2 or 2:30pm.  At night, it’s normally a small, lighter meal, which we have around 10pm.  We are always drinking Nescafe or tea or Arabic coffee.  People don’t generally drink water here, like we do in America.  I think I’m somewhat dehydrated!  People don’t use the sidewalks; they walk in the streets.  Every time a car passes a pedestrian, they honk.  Every time a car passes a car, they honk.  I’m so not used to this and I have almost been hit a few times here.  At night, they flash their lights.  Falak is so worried about me that she will hold my hand every time we cross the street and then I tell her, “Thanks, mom.”  We joke that we absolutely cannot have anything bad happen to me because that would be the end of any sort of good relationship between America and Syria!  Haha…..Also, I’m losing my English here.  Falak will ask me what is the word for this or that and I’m like, “duuuuuuhhhhh…..I don’t remember.”  I don’t know if it’s because part of me has shut down to cope with such a major life change or if my brain is trying to switch to Arabic….either way, it’s exhausting not being able to understand!

One pic for your viewing pleasure....more to come in a bit!

Auntie's House 008

Look out, America!  Here comes Syria!  In pic: Bilal, Mohammed, Falak, Emily, Omar, Hamza and Auntie Manolia

December 8, 2007

Who would've thought that I would come to Syria and find Grey's Anatomy on television!  Awesome!  I guess there are 4 or 5 channels here that all show American television: Rachael Ray, Grey's, American movies with Arabic subtitles to name a few AND the Arabic version of the Biggest Loser!  Never in my whole life did I expect that!  I guess I would have to say that I'm a bit disappointed about that one because if anything, that show is purely American, but it's caught on here.  Oh well.

Yesterday was a nice and relaxing day.  Friday is the religious day for Muslims, so there is nothing to do but eat because everything is closed.  We went to a nice restaurant for lunch and spent like 3 hours eating and talking and drinking tea.  We walked back to Falak's house afterwards, which was good to get some exercise.  The temperature is probably like in the 50s and it’s very cold for these Syrians and they keep their homes very warm.  They wear big winter jackets and I think this is funny because I am used to much colder weather.  However, now I am adjusting to this and I am freezing in 50 degree weather, too!

I think that I am in love with an Arab.  His name is Omar and he is seven years old.  He is Falak's little brother and he is so cute.  He is extremely excited to have me in the house.  He is trying to teach me Arabic and helps me with pronouncing the more difficult letters so that he can start communicating with me better.  Falak has taught him some English, but for the most part, our relationship hasn't moved passed "Hello" and "Hi" and "Bye bye" and "Are you ok, hungry, tired, happy, sleepy" yet.  :) 

Today, Falak took me out around town and showed me the shopping in Deirezzor.  It's much smaller than Damascus, but it still has it's uniqueness about it.  We then went to the Revolution Youth Union headquarters and met with the head boss man so that Falak can get some time off to be with me.  It was so funny because there isn't a word/single phrase in  English for "I'm glad you made it here safely and you're more than welcome."  So he said to me, "Double welcome!" 

Then the women of the house all went to a "ladies' party."  It was a bunch of Falak's mother's friends who are all lawyers.  There was one dentist and one judge, too.  How amazing and encouraging to see these women holding such powerful and strong positions!  And it is the only place where you will see a whole bunch of women uncovered.  It was like being a part of a secret society that only a select few are chosen for.  Really, it was wonderful to see.  The party consisted of the women sitting in a circle and dancing and eating good food and laughing.  We drank coffee, then tea, then coffee and then more coffee!  It was too much for me, but I had a good time and I was forced to dance in the middle of the circle. 

But my favorite part of the day was when Falak’s uncle, who is fluent in English, picked us up from the party and took us for a drive.  He is a very good man and is freaking hilarious.  Everyone always laughs when they are with him.  We exchanged swear words with each other and educated one another about these words because it’s important to know, just in case.  We had a few good laughs.  In America, we say “Take it easy.”  When you say this in Arabic, it sounds like a colorful phrase that is hilarious, but for modesty’s sake, I won’t translate this.  However, it was one of tonight’s entertainments.

I am learning many great and useful Arabic sayings.  I get to practice them often and they all love it when I do.  It’s very interesting to hear your name spoken in like every sentence, but you have no idea what’s being said.  Oh well.  I’m getting used to that.  I have celebrity status here.  When Falak and I were out walking, she commented on the fact that I was getting all the attention and not her!  I told her that I would wear the veil so that she could be the star again.  Haha….I truly think I’m the only foreigner here in this town.

I can honestly say though that I have bonded with Falak’s family and I feel like they are my adopted family.  Her mother is so wonderful and we have a good time, regardless of the language barrier.  So don’t worry mom and dad, I’m ok!  We are actually going to go to a Christian church tomorrow because they know I’m Christian and want to give me this.  It really melts my heart that these people, who are Muslim, want to attend a Christian service just for me (and this will be their first time doing so).  I can’t express my gratitude enough; there are no words for this blessing.

 

December 6, 2007

Today started out depressing, but ended wonderfully.  I woke up this morning at the youth hostel.  Ahmad met me again; he is so sweet.  Then we drove to the airport because they finally received my bags from London!  I’m telling you, there is a lot of red tape that one must go through for EVERYTHING! 

We gave my “file reservation” slip to the Lost and Found office, but they told us we needed to get a signature from the Office of Security, however, they wouldn't give Ahmad clear directions where the office was.  We eventually found the office and then we had to wait outside along with a few other people while housekeeping mopped the floors.  A man was there, standing up going through papers and I assume that this was the man who we needed to talk to.  He never once looked up at us and Ahmad very timidly started speaking.  The man took our paper and signed it without questions or making eye contact.  Then we went back to the Lost and Found office and they took me back to find my luggage.  The guy who helped me grilled me with the following questions, all very politely: Where in America are you from?  Why are you in Damascus?  How long and where are you staying?  Etc.  After getting my luggage and having my passport looked at for like the 10th time and having to repeat my mother’s name and my father’s name, they told me to go to customs.

Ok, so I just wanted to get the heck outta there but then a guy stopped me at “customs,” which consisted of a few tables.  He wanted me to open my suitcase to look inside, so I obliged.  Well, he went rummaging through my things and he came across my tampons.  He picked one up and asked me in Arabic, “shoo?”  This means “what?”  I told him “tampon.”  He didn’t understand me and kept asking me “what? What?”  I told him, “For women.  Blood.  Every month!  Maxi pad!”  He didn’t understand me.  I was so frustrated and annoyed.  He opened the tampon and looked at it with the most confused look on his face.  I was really laughing to myself inside because I don’t think this man has ever seen a tampon before!  So he called over like 3 other guys to ask me what this strange thing was.  Again, I emphasized that it was for women, for every month and finally they understood and let me go!  Talk about a pain in the neck and darn that guy because he wasted a perfectly good tampon!  Arrrrrr……

Anyway, Ahmad then drove me to the bus station.  And I must say that on our way, it started to rain!  Man!  I thought I was getting away from the rain!  I guess not….We arrived and Ahmad bought my ticket for me, thank God.  I was the only foreigner in the whole place and I felt so nervous because I was about to leave my safety blanket and be thrown into the world by myself with no translator.  So I was able to get on the bus and I chose a seat near the front, next to the driver.  Little did I know that there is actually some method to this madness. 

After a few minutes some guys appeared at my seat and were staring at me and looking at my seat and then one of them asked me what my number was.  I was like, what number?  I don’t have a number.  Turns out they assign seats on your ticket.  My ticket is completely in Arabic; I can read it, but can’t understand it.  So I was moved to the seat directly behind the driver, which was ok.  I ended up sitting next to a nice girl.  But I was all alone and nobody on the bus really spoke English. 

We arrived in Palmyra, which is half way between Damascus and Deir Ezzor.  This was our pit stop and I had been dreading this because I don’t speak Arabic and I felt so out of place and self conscious.  So I was standing outside of the rest stop while everyone else went in and started to buy food and tea and then the same guy who asked me for my seat number came up to me and asked me if I wanted some tea.  I was so relieved and I said yes.  He brought me some tea and offered me a cigarette.  I said no to the cigarette, but drank the tea quickly because it was the first thing I had consumed all day and it was now around 5pm.  Turns out this man’s name is Basl and he is trying to get a visa to Greece.  He barely spoke English, but it was enough to cover the basics.  He then bought me an orange pop, which I gulped down, too.  And this was my first time getting some Syrian digits!  I didn't even have to ask, too!  :)  Then it was time to get back on the bus.  Thank God for random strangers because without them, I would be so miserable and helpless. 

When we got to Deir Ezzor, I was told that I had to get off the bus and go to the office.  Then this man asked me again for my passport and my name and my mother’s name and my father’s name.  He spoke no English, whatsoever.  It was then that Falak and her little brother, Omar came to my rescue and another wave of relief swept over me.  She was able to help me and then we were off to her house.

I felt so welcomed when I stepped inside her house.  Her mother, who doesn’t speak English, was so friendly and welcoming.  I thoroughly enjoyed my first time in a real Syrian home.  Falak lives in a beautiful home.  I was able to take a nice, hot shower and clean off 4 days of travel.  I never felt so good! 

We then went out with Falak’s aunt and uncle and cousins to dinner.  It was a traditional Arabic dinner with delicious food, argileh and live music.  Now this is the Syria that I remember and so fondly reminisced about!  Yeah!  We stayed out until 3am and I was coaxed into dancing in front of everyone yet again.  Surprise, surprise.  But I was treated as if I was a movie star because I am from America.  I was welcomed over and over again in the songs, which made me feel very good and it helped ease the last bit of stress that was hanging onto me from getting to Syria from America.  Tonight, I was able to relax, laugh, drink a couple of beers, smoke argileh and dance.  Things are good now!

December 5, 2007 continued

Today was an interesting day.  I was woken with a start to the banging and clashing of band instruments playing what I can only assume as some national anthem.  And then I realized that I was in Syria.  This is my first full day and it still feels like I’m dreaming. 

I woke up feeling a bit depressed because I am all alone in this youth hostel and I can barely speak the language.  I got dressed and waited for someone to come to my door because I don’t feel comfortable going out by myself yet.  It’s terrible because I feel somewhat trapped, like one of those dogs that you see with a chain around its leg with just enough length to wander, but not escape.  Currently, that’s the way I feel when I’m by myself; I am almost paralyzed by fear.  

But Ahmad came knocking on my door this morning and a wave of relief swept over me.  It was good to see him.  He took me out to buy toilet paper…haha…and shampoo because these are some necessities that I need while I wait for my luggage.  And he paid for it because I don’t have Syrian pounds yet.  Yes, my luggage is still not here.  I was told that it would be on a flight that would leave London today at 9am, but then today, they told us that it will be here tomorrow.  The tediousness and slowness of processes here seems to be a way of life.  In America, if something is wrong, I am used to having immediate action taken and the problem solved, but here, it’s not like that.  You have to wait for things and have extreme patience.  This is not a well-oiled, fine tuned machine; rather it’s more of a rickshaw that is pulled by a man pushing 70 years of age who has to make frequent water stops along the way.  Man, I’ve been in the same clothes since Monday and I’m thinking I’m about to die if I don’t get a fresh change of clothes soon. 

Anyway, I was able to get a delicious breakfast of shwarma, which consisted of chicken and a sort of mayonnaise type dressing with some pickles all wrapped around in a pita.  That was my morning highlight.  Then I accompanied Ahmad to his German class this afternoon.  The first thing Ahmad (with a ginormous grin on his face) would say when he greeted each of his classmates at the sight of a strange girl sitting next to him was, “American.”  I saw eyes widen and smiles crack when he introduced me as his American friend.  I think I was proposed to at least 5 times by various Syrian guys within the 3 hour class period.  Mom and Dad: don’t worry.  I said no.  haha. 

I found it extremely entertaining that I was sitting in a classroom learning German in Arabic.  English was interspersed now and again to help clarify the more complex grammatical rules, but for the majority of the class, it was German and Arabic.  Talk about a cultural identity crisis!  But the cool thing was that even though I could only understand a couple of German words and a bit more Arabic, I was still entertained and felt very much a part of the class.  The students in the class easily switched from Arabic to German to English on the drop of a hat, which blew my mind.  It was also during this class that I realized this is my life now; I’m in Syria!  I’m not coming back for 8 months!  I am totally crazy to be doing this!  I can’t believe that I am doing this!  The reality of my situation hit me all at once, but I was strangely ok with it.

SIDE NOTE: Two of the students in the German class are doctors and they were asking me what my job was back in America.  They were very impressed when they found out I was a clinical research coordinator.  They informed me that in Syria and in the Middle East, it is illegal to have clinical trials on humans.  Apparently, it is against Islam, which I found to be very interesting.  Any doctors who want to test out new drugs have to go abroad to Europe or America.  They were very interested to hear about the new cancer drugs out in America….

Then it was time for argileh, which for us Americans, is referred to as hookah!  We went to the Christian part of town, Bab Tooma and went to a little café.  Ahmad has been learning German for about 2 months now and his friend, the teacher, only speaks Arabic and German, although he can understand English.  Then their friend Sami showed up.  He is half German and half Syrian and in my opinion, has the best of both worlds!  Haha…anyway, this guy is trilingual, speaking Arabic, German and English fluently.  He lives in Germany, but is here in Syria for like 8 months while he studies for the TOEFL.  So our conversation again went from Arabic to English to German.  Needless to say, I couldn’t participate much.  Oh well!  I just enjoyed my argileh and if I get lung cancer later in life, it will be from this time that I spent in Syria.  Everyone here smokes like a chimney!  I saw Ahmad’s friends literally smoke nonstop while we sat for maybe 2 hours, going from cigarettes to argileh and vice versa.  Cough. ..Cough…  My poor lungs.
Another cool thing about Syria is that I heard Beyonce, Akon and other various American artists on the radio.  And now, I am watching Syrian basketball on tv.  It’s totally like American basketball with the coaches dressed in full suits, sitting on the sidelines shouting commands at the players!  It’s funny because you would assume that Syria would be one of the last places you would see Americanization.  Crazy, huh?

I also forgot just how dangerous and utterly terrifying it is to walk and cross the streets in Damascus.  My God!  I nearly got hit a couple of times.  Let me put it this way to all of you who think I’m joking or just don’t get it.  In Bab Tooma, it would be like crossing Hwy. 99 at rush hour traffic, except there are no rules, no crosswalks and pedestrians have no rights, so cars don’t stop for you.  And near the youth hostel, it would be comparable to crossing I-5 during normal traffic conditions.  Haha…I would love to see those annoying Seattle pedestrians who think they own the road cross a street here!  Yes, there is justice in this world!

There are frequent blackouts, too!  It’s really scary when you’re sitting all by yourself, typing away when the lights suddenly shut off and then the roaring, moaning sound of the generator kicks in to try and restore power.  Scary!
I am praying that my bags arrive tomorrow so that I can go to Falak’s house.  Inshallah (God willing). 

December 5, 2007

Well, I landed safely in Damascus.  It felt good and strange to be back here.  Upon my arrival though, I was welcomed with the ordeal of lost luggage juxtaposed to the ever so friendly phrase of “you are more than welcome,” which was repeated by almost every person I came in contact with.  But this is what my tired ears heard, “Welcome to Syria.  We have lost your bags.  You are more than welcome.” 

Apparently, my luggage did not get on the same plane as I did in London, so I had to go to the lost and found section along with 10 or so other travelers (all men) and push my way into the office.  It was here that I had a friendly encounter with a Brit who was very jealous that I had chewing gum and flat out asked me for some.  He was so happy when I gave him some, that he even let me cut in front of him! 

My friends Faisal and Ahmad were waiting for me on the other side and they were sticking their heads in through the window.  This was very surreal to see people you never thought you would ever see again, which was complicated by the fact that I was in deep denial that British Airways had lost my luggage.  But thank God for my friends because the office needed the address and telephone number of the youth hostel where I am staying until my bags come.  Yeah, my Arabic isn’t that good yet.  I mean, I know roughly where the hostel is and in what area, but an address?  Forget it. 

So it’s about 3am right now and I can’t sleep because I slept so much on the plane.  Tomorrow, Faisal is going to figure things out for me and then I can get on a bus that will take me across the country to my friend, Falak’s house.   Now, let me tell you about my first cultural experience.

I think that I am being immediately thrown into the Syrian way of life because in my room, there is no toilet paper.  Of course!  There wasn’t any in our rooms the first time we stayed here!  My roommate and I had to steal tissues from the dining room!  Needless to say, I had my first experience with the water hose and my hand.  Somehow I managed not to get water all over my jeans too much, but at the same time, I had to laugh at the irony of the whole situation.  These people do this sort of thing every day and here I was absolutely demoralized at the fact that I couldn’t use toilet paper.  I think this is somebody’s way of saying, “You wanted to come and live in Syria so badly, so LIVE in Syria!”
But I can honestly say that it’s still gross. AND it’s not like there’s anyone to explain to me the proper way to use the hose, either!!

I guess my first night in Damascus could’ve gone way better or way worse.  Either way, I am just thankful to be here alive and in one piece.  It took forever to get through customs because of my American passport, even though I had the visa.  And it’s funny because an American passport is a topic of interest here.  Faisal’s job has him working with the youth hostel, so he knows everyone here.  When he was helping me check in, he held up my passport and emphasized the fact that it was American.  They were mostly speaking Arabic, but I know some words and could basically get the gist of what he was saying and by the group’s reaction.  I can tell that they don’t see many American passports.  It is a rare thing. 

 

December 5, 2007

First off, let me just lay a few ground rules for everyone reading my blog. 
1.  I can tend to be a bit long-winded when blogging, but I refuse to apologize for this because this is one of the ways in which I process, understand and learn from my experiences.  Especially when I don’t have anyone who is fluent enough in English to REALLY talk to and with being so far away from home.  Getting online is hard, if not annoying at times and my international mobile plan charges me $3.99 per minute.
2. I also tend to go into honest and open detail about things that happen to me such as bathroom experiences, etc. so if you’re at all offended by this, please just skip those parts.
3. I'm here in Syria safe and sound, but internet is hard to come by so, I find it easier to write about the day in real time, rather than try to blog only when I can get internet, so I may post multiple days at once until I can get a more steady way of getting online.
Enjoy!

The countdown begins...

I can't believe that I only have 2 weeks left!  I feel like I am walking through my own dream; everything is surreal.  Life is about to change drastically.....