colour

As some of you may or may not know, I have become particularly enamoured with colour of late. Nothing in particular, just a general appreciation of colour and particularly vivid or unique examples I come across in daily life. I try to avoid all grey or black or blue days, and generally have something fancy going on with my shoelaces if nothing else.

Well, when I arrived here I noticed a tendancy amongst French people towards black. Sometimes grey, maybe white, but nothing exciting to my eyes. Even when one saw colours in a store display it was generally a muted purple, and that was it, maybe with a few subtle shade variations.

Now of course some people do wear a bit of colour, and I know the techtonique kids (it's a dance/music craze thing) certainly do their part, but the non colours prevail.

Case in point.

I was at a party the other day. Should be fun I thought, and as usual I put EXTENSIVE thought into my wardrobe. I ended up going with a nice pink t shirt and jeans. Nothing too crazy, but then about an hour after my arrival at the other dozen or so at the party, and I kid you not there was nothing but grey, black or white. NOTHING. Someone might have been wearing blue jeans, I can't remember, but if they were they were dark.

I bellowed something about this, people made fun of me because my shirt was actually the colour of the enemy Stade Francais rugby team, and all I could do was sigh. Later when I was complaining again after more people had arrived some girl pointed out she was wearing a pink t-shirt under her black one. Not quite the same lady.

Oh well. At least all the other people who actually had a colour had chosen pink.

shoulder

And here's a little something for the really getting to know James fans out there.

The shoulder is acting up again.

Harrumph.

I had just started going to the gym and lifting again, so that might have been the problem, but maybe not.

For you see, shortly after restarting at the gym I went over to the apartment of some other assistants for drinks, and at the end of the night, rather than wait to be buzzed out I decided to leap (haul myself) over the gate at the front of the school where they live. And it was the next morning my shoulder had a small ache.

Oh me. Oh my.

It's strange how pain functions. You forget what a bother it was to suddenly feel pain in your shoulder at random moments. For the last few weeks with the pain gone I didn't even remember I had been sore, but now it is back.

It's a shame pain can't be psychic and kick in even if what you're doing now won't hurt until tomorrow. Something for the cyborgs I suppose.

follow up

Something I realized agfter scampering away from the internet last night.

It isn't just unions that seem to get in on the strike mentality from time to time. I was in Orléans this past weekend and one of my trains there (yes, one of them, Rodez being Rodez there were a few), was halted at a station for a while.

I had no idea what was going on and wasn't really paying much attention. But then as we started to move again people began to walk past the windows, holding signs, and from the brief glimpses and brief translations I think the people in these smaller communities on the track north from Toulouse were displeased that the train didn't stop there. They wanted to go to Paris too, but to do that they needed to catch a locla train to a larger station.

This is similar to what I did, with the exception that they are right on the same line, but that's not the point of the story. The point is, when in doubt strike! It's both frustrating for me on the train, and commendable. I assume they have registered their concerns in other ways first of course, but to then go out and continue to try and do something about it...good for them.

Do I support them? I don't know. If I lived there I probably would, but I can't imagine it's that difficult to catch one train and then another, although it undoubtedly feels superfluous and excessive.

grèves and syndicats

As yo may or may notknow the g word above is strike in french and the s is union.

Both of these things are very popular here.

As an example. I have been asked to choosed which union should represent irregular and part time teachers, this includes assistants as well as many other, more french and I assume more permanent positions. First of all why are they asking a fellow here for 6 months and no great attachment to the system? Who knows, but aside from that how they want me to vote...

Straight-forward, if unnecessarily complicated mail in system for the vote. But along with various envelopes and instructions they give you all the choices, like 12 of them. Each one gets a ballot which is essentially a point form information sheet, and then there is also a a wadge of actual ionformation sheets. AND THEN two of the unions have sent me separate info packages as well. And because there was no way I was going to translate all this stuff I asked one of the teachers what was up.

"That's my union, socialist, socialist, right wing, centre, communist, don't know, never heard of it..." OAnd on it went. Ridiculous.

Another example, at one point a few weeks ago, the Air France pilots were on strike over changes to retirement age, the teachers struck for one day because of proposed changes to the education system (apparently the 26 hours a work man they work has been put at risk with the threat of firing teachers), and there was a chance teh SNCF (railroads) were going out. I think that last one was just on the freight side but feel everyone would have scampered.

Yikes.

I'm not sure exactly what's going on now, but my vote is attached to all sorts of larger doings. Teachers are voting, but given the number of posters that have been put up all over town I feel like other groups may be involved as well.

Yeesh.

ANd then as a super kicker, today as I was killing time in Brive-la-Gaillard, waiting for my Rodez connection, I noticed a building which appears to have been used at one point or another for the regions bakery union, because you know how all those locally operated, one person bakeries can tend towards slavery. Or something...I can't figure it all out.

I'm being punted from my internet connection, but I will try to get more up soon-ish, or failing that, communicate my new form of communication.

writing on the internet

As I have mentioned a couple of times already I've started to consider about writing on the internet means, as far as the future.

Once it's up here, it's here. That shouldn't affect me too greatly of course, I don't tend towards anything overly salacious, but what does the future hold? What job will I want? What will I care about people reading?

Nothing big, but I mayb look to switch to email at some point, given I'm pretty sure the regular readers of this blog tops out at 3 or 4.

But for now...

sausages

Sausages here are far more abundant than back home. You can get fresh ones, as in needing to be cooked, but so far I’ve gone towards the dry ones that last forever in a fridge or out.

There have been a few tasty examples, but I think I’m going to start relying on the thin spicy ones out of a concern for cost. The one with olives in the sausage was good, but 5 euros for about 7cm is just too steep for my blood and bank account.

I picked up a new one the other day, sauccissons de coche (sauccissons are generally the fatter jobbies, while your standard saucisse is of a narrower gauge). I asked the fellow what the deal was with coche and much to my pleasure my ever extending French skills allowed me to understand that as the name ‘coche’ might suggest it had to do with a pig, or cochon for my Fr-illiterate readers.

Not just a pig of course, these sausages are made from the older sows that have lived their piglet purposes to a full and are going on to their final duty. I wasn’t clear on all the details, but apparently when they’re older their meat tastes ---- something.

I just had my first piece and it turns out their meat tastes, piggy. Well barn piggy, if that makes sense. This description is going to sound far more odd than the reality, and I must emphasize the subtlety of the flavour. The sausage tastes like a pig barn smells. If you will. An old sow spending her life in a pig barn might be expected to take on some of these scents of course, so it’s no surprise. There is no sharp pig manure taste or anything like that, but as you chew the sausage (as I’m doing right now) you get subtle hints. Yes, this pig pooped and yes the barn took on that odour at times, and yes somewhere in this sausage those aromas are emerging.

Not bad. Just a new and unique taste. Maybe by the end of the sausage I’ll be in love with it. The last one, duck maybe?, certainly grew on me as I worked my way through. And I can only imagine the olfactory joys an old farmer gets when he bites into one of these 20 years after he had to give up the homestead and move into town.

Memories.

Catholicism

Similar to the previous post (given that I’m typing these on my computer in advance I hope I post them in the correct order or at least remember to give them a quick once over…doubtful, and either way this is going to be left in…or is it?), ummm. Yes.

Similar to the previous post, I think if I was ever going to get into the whole Christianity thing I would have to go for Catholicism. It has by far the most interesting structures to worship in, at least over here, and they give you lots to look at. The buildings themselves architecturally, but also all the little chapels and alcoves and saints and statues they have lying everywhere. Then of course there’s all the chanting and rituals that go on, throw in a bit of hazy incense and you have yourself a solid little party.

With all the ‘additions’ above and beyond the straight-up ‘JC is awesome message’, the damn thing may as well still be pagan.

To all my devout and easily angered Catholic readers JOKES!!! (they’re not reading now, but no doubt once I’m famous and people start looking all this stuff up they’ll google me and I’ll get in trouble. Heh thinking about that kind of stuff makes me wonder whether I should post anything online, but I suppose these kinds of resources are going to be the new ‘personal archives’ that get donated to libraries etc. Maybe I should find some intellectual compatriot and start exchanging letters so I have something more solid to give. But none of this is about Catholicism so I’ll stop and go work on something that will make me famous so these concerns will be legitimate).

urban design

Maybe it was because I was in such an amazing mood generally, but the little touches of urban design that I noticed in Toulouse struck me as quite brilliant. A mediatheque (like a library but with media beyond the biblio) had been recently constructed, in the form of yet another French arc, but its small, adjoined public square in the center of an oversized traffic roundabout had some nice touches. There were a few stores and bakeries and whatnot, but the actual square (circle) had some brilliant little fountains. One a babbling brook running down a ramp and the other popping little jets into the air in whatever happy pattern it chose.

Did it cost a little bit more to put those in and run them daily over and above the cost of a flat concrete courtyard? Yes, probably. Did it put a smile on my face, yes. And really shouldn’t MY happiness be the main concern of municipal governments everywhere?

French dogs

They’re around, as one might expect.

There are some teensy things seen in ridiculous outfits and all you can think of when you see them is why they haven’t been squashed yet. Not in any malicious way, but they are so tiny and seemingly a bit vapid. A rat of the same size, although many are probably bigger, at least has some heft, solidity and cunning about it. These dogs, not so much.

But I shouldn’t hard on the poor little dogs, there are similar freaks in purses and on frilly pink leashes all over the world.

Homeless people here seem to have far more dogs than back home. But not all the homeless have the same air of desperation about them either and there are a number of degrees and varieties that as I’m typing this I realize I might want to give some more thought to, or at least look into seeing if anyone else has done as much. There seems to be a lot of younger people that seem to live ‘homeless’ as a lifestyle. They have a look, a way of dressing and acting that extends between various groups. They’ve made a choice, and living with a big pack just happens to be their thing. But this is about dogs…

Homeless people and dogs, YES! I even saw one fellow, at least I assume there was someone hidden in the sleeping bag, that had too dogs, one of whom was busily nursing a litter. Making it more than two. I’ll try to stop lying.

As for walking the dogs, it’s a slightly different dynamic here. Many more dogs seem to be walked sans leash, and they are generally well behaved so no complaints. It’s the owners that might need some training, at least in the cross-cultural Canadian manners sense.

Someone here thinks people need to pick up their dogs’ leavings as there are posts with bag dispensers about. “Let’s keep Rodez beautiful!” indeed. But judging by my feet and the close calls I go through on a daily basis, the advice is not always heeded.

As part of a unique dog culture, at least in Rodez, there are a number of small enclosures about designed for a dog to visit and do its duty. No bigger than 2 metres squared with a pole in the middle for piddle, they are surrounded by a solid post fence, lending an air of privacy. The fence is high enough that from a distance you can’t see what’s going on. Instead all you see is a person standing at enclosure’s opening, hands in pockets, slowly rocking back and forth just watching their dog *ahem* finish up.

I assume there is some municipal employee whose main task is to tidy up these pens. Nice.

posting

I promise I will post more regualrly. Promise.

I'm about ot scamper out the door yet again, but for the time being I'll just say I'm being moved. I don't know where or exactly when, but sometime next week likey and somewhere within the school.

It's just a bit frustrating to be sitting here without knowing hte exact details, especially since this has been rumoured for a while. As well as the obvious other questions like why not put me in the second choice in the first place?...and so on.

Oh well. Onward and upward.

the following

The following three posts were written stream of consciousness, when I was kind of tired. Take from them what you will (and are able)

Life in France

Yes the food is okay. There is too much meat and cheese and fatty sausages of course - all of which is delicious and a risk to my girlish figure. I refuse to tell French people their food is good though. They are too caught up in it and smug and I’ve had good food in many places.

However, I find it very doubtful the food I get in the school cafeteria would appear in a school café in any other country, but until the French learn to be a bit more humble about their food, they’re not getting anything else from me.

And what the heck is the problem with mixing vegetables with your aligot? It’s the only option when there’s only one hot plate and saucepan.

Aligot being a delicious local dish of potatoes, cheese and cream in a 4-2-1 ratio, and my condemnation arising when I suggested mixing a few veggies into the mash. I was roundly condemned by all present and informed later in the conversation it isn’t aligot lest the cheese come from somewhere other than a tiny block of farms somewhere south of Rodez.

I guess.

Too much about food!

Aside from that, the bureaucracy here is silly. I have filled out forms where I wrote my address down three times, on the same page! Opening my bank account required the murder of ten forests. Speaking of the bank, I deposited some cash today and it should appear on my bank balance by Tuesday. If I’d known it would take so long, I wouldn’t have bothered. I have general “life” insurance, not life insurance, just insurance for life. In case I step on someone’s toe or something. Before I join a gym, or take a yoga class I need to get some sort of form from a doctor, the cost of which will be refunded by the public health care.

And it goes and goes and goes.

So food, and bureaucracy. Seem to be the fixation of most people here. It isn’t about efficiency, that’s for sure, and come to think of it neither am I.

Maybe if I can figure out this whole language thing, thus enabling me to engage more fully in conversations over food, about food, during bureaucratic process or about them, I’ll like it all even more.

Right now, not being able to say what I really think is more than a bit irritating, and maybe if I didn’t talk to the other English assistants so much I’d be learning more and faster. Maybe.

Time and the internet

It’s interesting, I’m writing a bit more – I’ve written once or twice in the last week – but I’m still not reading much. Part of this is I only have one book, but I haven’t even been inclined to get into that.

I suppose I read quite a lot on the internet but you can’t really count that.

For a while there was a bit of guilt at the thought of dealing in English but that has passed. I wonder where my time goes because I do have a lot of it.

I think most of it disappears trying to sort out minutia. Things like which rail discount card to buy become hours long research and translation sessions where I always feel burned out and exhausted by the end. The deplorable state of internet in France doesn’t help things either. Packing up all my gear and heading over the teacher’s college I work at…working over there, but only with internet explorer because nothing else works…then coming back for lunch. It all just wastes so much time.

I think I should just give up the internet entirely, all the connections here are nothing but grief. But I can’t. Planning my holidays required oodles of research.

It’s strange being in a country, ostensibly tied in with the idea that the internet is the future, but also notoriously famous for its bureaucracy and pace. Not a good combo. Both through its connections and how websites are designed, the French have somehow extended this notoriety into the digital realm.

I have theories as to why I can’t find something helpful, like a train schedule online (I can find it through the German Rail website, which all the French use as well), but they’re for another time and involve the economy.

rodez 2

Ther might be some new thoughts in this. Maybe not. I can't be bothered to check.

Rodez is a city/town on a hill. Apparently the Romans had some stuff here, but as far as I can tell all that remains in town is a small section of amphitheatre wall that has been incorporated into the central underground car park. There was a museum tour of the local aqueduct system the other weekend but I failed to reserve my spot and was therefore grossly disappointed when I showed up on Sunday for the tour.

Rodez is just out of the way. There’s a direct overnight train from Paris, but aside from that to get here requires connecting. It’s at the end of the line from Toulouse, although there is a small train that runs on to places further east. It’s just south of the Central Massif, but not so close that I can see it out my window or anything. A lot of people who live and work here take off for Toulouse when the week is done. This includes most of the students I work with and many of the teachers. Most of the town.

The shock at seeing so many constantly shuttered windows has worn off I think, but there are a lot of shuttered windows. And now that I’m thinking of it the weekends seem a lot less empty now that I’m running along the river path. It always seems to be fairly busy during the day and it’s just the center of town that is dead.

But again I must say NO! Not dead. Just quiet. I think it’s nice, and I have decided to ignore that “well at least it’s something to do” that seems to pervade the mindsets of many of the other assistants. There’s lots to do, as long as you like walking, running, quiet contemplation, reading (perhaps, although I’m still not doing the latter enough and even if I was I might run out of books in a hurry) etc.

So all in all Rodez is nice.

rodez

Yes, So I have a few moments.

I don't feel like going into the in depth intricacies that are Frenchness and the famous french bureaucracy. I need to write those thoughts down and edit them before I think of posting them here because that's the golden stuff that British people eat up and I can put into a book.

But I will say this.

Rodez is a lovely town. It's main probalem is one of isolation. Part of this is likely the fact I haven't sorted out all the transit intricacies yet, but most of it is Rodez is a bit of a backwater, connected by rail to a couple of places far away that need to be gone through to reach anywhere of any significance. Bit of a pain, but there you go.

The bigger pain, howeverm is that I never learned to drive a manual transmission. Fine in Canada but here everythign is stick, and if I ever wanted to buy a car, or more likely rent one, it would certainly come in handy. Unfortunately I don't have the skill, so I can either rent a car and learn to drive the damn thing as I go (somehow hiding the fact I'm incompetent until I am out of sight) or sit here on my keester (booo) or convince another assistant to drive somewhere with me. That saves a bit of money so it's a possibility, but involves agreement etc etc.

Another thought I had involved buying a motorcycle, but while I'm sure I could figure it out I don't think the French are going to want to give me one without an actual motorcycle license...the little things.

So there I am.

But there are still many places to visit just on the train. I went to Albi just south of here the other day and there is still the entirety of Toulouse to visit. That should keep me entertained for a while. It's only if a I really want to take myself on a tour of the out of the way castles and villages that the Cathars hid out in that I need a car. Unfortunately I do so I'll have to think of something clever.

meh

Don't know when I'll be writing on here these days. Rodez is nice, French is hard but interesting to learn and the food is good.

What ,ore do you need to know....and I can't find the question mark on this keyboard.

France (after some other stuff)

So, sat at home in OS for a wee while. Month plus or so. Had to rejog travel plans after Zoom went belly up. Done. Flew into London with brother and mother, Lowestoft for a cousin's wedding where sister met up with us.

Afterwards, through various modes of transport, we all headed up to Edinburgh where sister lives to spend some quality time wedged into her two room pad. Quality. Nothing like 4 people squished together walking around all day and getting really tired an grumpy.

Eventually mother and brother departed, and sister and brother (me) hung about for a few more, relaxed days. Then down to London by bus, stayed there for a few and after an arduous journey, during which I watched more trains (overground and tube) pass than I thought possible I eventually managed to wedge myself aboard one and get to where I needed to be. Too late for my planned train to Dover of course, so I took the bus.

The bus takes a ferry from Dover to Calais, the same route some fella flew across the channel with a rocket pack on his back. I did not see this and it saddens me. After getting into to Paris (nasty traffic jam just north of the city) and metroing to Austerlitz I was unable to call my friend before getting on a train to Orleans.

Originally I was meant to arrive at 7. NO! Just before 10 by the time I got there, and all I could do was apologize that I didn't get in touch. WHy? France does not believe in coins (at least when it comes to their phones). And all credit cards here use the little chips meaning my credit card was useless in phones. By the time I found and bought a phone card (7.60 euros for 50...seconds? of talk time - maybe a bit more but not much) I was on the train.

Anyway, I made it and have arrived...in Orleans. An hour's train ride from Paris I will head into the city tomorrow for some exploration and return here for Saturday and Sunday. On Monday I catch my train to Rodez. Destiny awaits!

As for the French. I am cautiously pleased an optimistic. I still have a very hard time understanding what people are saying to me, but I'm talking with a reasonable fluidity and confidence. Actually much more than I might have expected. I'm pleased I came down to hang out with Raph and chat with her. It's nice being able to be corrected by someone you know, rather than not be corrected by a stranger. But there's something else.

Really trying to speak french all day is melting my brain. There's something in the back of my mind that says this will all be over soon. Treating it almost like a joke. Not a joke exactly but something akin to this. Simply put there is a dissonance and confusion as my brain attempts to develop new neural pathways and junk. I don't really know, but it's kind of exciting and aside from the exhaustion I am quite enjoying it.

Well, kind of. I'm also freaked out for speaking with people I don't know and who might not have the english or hte patience raph does. We shall see. As always we shall see.

my last full day in I town

I write that last entry in installments because of its monstrous size.

Almost verbatim to what I wrote in my journal...I thought parts were quite good.

Today, was just about walking. I did silly things like walk all the way back to Taksim just to see if I could find Greenpeace canvassers who I had failed to photograph for some GP friends back in Canada, then I found some neat old buildings perhaps Genoese...late in Constantinople's history the enoese were able to get themselves eleveated trading rights in the region. Oh why can't I remember by Byzantium class????

Then I cruised pass teh spice bazaar...that had been the focal point for my day but last night I relaized it might be closed (Sunday's the day off in Turkey) and sure enough it was. No worry.

More wandering to fill the void. To the university, around the university, various famous mosques here and there that I can't be bothered to name or even stick my head inside (there's something wrong with my tenses there, I leave it to the grammaticians). Then I walked all the back to cembertas (or whatever) to decide if I wanted to take a Turkish bath. Basically a bath, but heated stones, steam and some cubby fellow scrubbing you down (and if you're really lucky massaging you). I had meant to do it in various places from Aqaba all the way north...thinking Aleppo would be ideal. Unfortunately the hammams (word for Turkish bath) in Aleppo were closed (the ones that looked nice at least) so it was left to Istanbul. Eventually I decided that I would forgo, 46 more lira to keep in my pocket and the knowledge I could do it next time (save up and get a full massage too!!!).

But while looking at the bath's pamphlet what did I see?????

Guess.

No.

Well it was aqueducts. I had gone up to the university in part to find an aqueduct which is located right behind it. I found it, shitty little thing (heh) but the pamphlet had another one further along. I hadn't gone far enough!!!! So I dragged my tired legs back again and found it. What a beauty. Nice and long, arcing over Attaturk Boulevard. The real question though was how to get up...I wandered its length and was fortunate enough to see some people scrambling up at a building. I followed their lead and had a pleasant stroll all the way along. And got to where I had seen some people sitting from teh ground and....if they weren't someking a big ol' lung.

I'm not going to provide more details than that, for the uninformed I'll just say a lung involves marijuana. Using some ill informed notions of pot smokers being the same the world over I feel I may have invited myself in for a little toke. Meh. Hopefully it isn't that hard to come by, and they looked decently blazed already. I think they wanted a bit of money, or maybe not. Whatever the case they got nothing, I wasn't actually very high and we all lept down at the other end of the structure.

An interesting experience, just wish I'd gotten more high. I mean if I'm going to do it anyway...

Now I sit in the Big Apple having frustrated a nut seller or two on the way home, my bags are packed and hopedully under 20 kg and tomorrow I have lots of time for my finishing touches and lunch and snacks before catching my airport bus at 1300 for a 1610 flight (check in starts at 1410).

I'll be one night in London before flying to Vancouver.

Blog entries between now and then? I don't know. Leave me alone.

bazaar indeed

I'm hestitant to start this monstrosity of anentry on a keyboard with a finicky space bar, but if we areall patient it should work out alright.

Yesterday was a tremendously pleasant affair,all about shopping. To the Grand Bazaar we went armed with the name Altuu and a phone number. Altuu being Zoe's friend Şirin's pal from way back. We gave the number a call, but got no responseand so ventured into the crowded channels of commerce on our own, intent on not being fleeced and just looking around until we had a local guide on hand to save us from teh Oriental shopkeeps, full of cunning, guile and nefarious tricks to part us from our pieces of siler and gold.

In reality there was a sense of dread and nervousness within our jolly crew. We'd ventured through souqs and bazaars (even this one) before, but this time we all had gifts to buy and a desire to keep spending in check and such realities do not jive well with the narratives that surround an eastern bazaar we all carried in our respective heads.

Before we knew it though we were in a shop looking at belly dancing costumes (a favour for Kristin and her dancing grandma of course). "How much is this heavily sequined number? And this one with the tassles?" I don't think I intended to buy at that point, still holding out hope that Altuu would be on hand to guide us through the murky waters of the final transactions. Telling the shopkeep I needed to confirm how much my Canadian friend was willing to spend, we were given a card with a map (so we could find the place again) and were about to leave when I saw a costume that was the one for me.

Well, it would have been the one for me if I needed a belly dancing costume and since I know nothing of Kristin's grandma's taste in belly dancing paraphenalia, aside from the the necessity of bejeweled breasts, I figured my tastes would have to do the trick.

He started at 100 lira and quickly asked what I wanted to spend...the key to satisfied shopping in these conditions comes down to 2 main requirements in my mind.
1 - Kepp your smile on. It is a game you are playing after all. If you intend to buy, have a good time while doing it and I think the shopkeepers are more willing to make a smidgen less profit in return for the frivolity.
2 - When it comes to naming your own price, there is nothing wrong with being ridiculous. "How much do I want to spend? Well ideally you give it to me more free...maybe 10." And the game continues.
90? 25?, with lots of joshing around in between. I assured the vendor my very good Turkish friend told me to spend no more than 50 and that was for the top of the line stuff, surely this slightly lower cost one shouldn't be more than...30?

In the end I was at 35 and having a great time wehen Zoe countered his 55 with 40. With mock indignation I warned her against interfering but suddenly he was at 40 too and we were all drinking tea in celebration. We then chatted for a while about his work in the bazaar, former businesses, humanity. The normal stuff.

The love and people talk seemed to be a theme for the day. Apparently not many people were interested in my money, just as long as hearts were full of love and I was happy, well then they were happy as well. And I believe there was some truth in the talk. They wanted my money, yes, but if I was giving them proft, they were willing to forgo a little more money as long as I walked away with a smile. Or maybe I was ripped off royally. Who knows such things? But maintaining an attitude of finding a price you are happy with (whether it's really the best or not) seems to be a good rule of thumb to follow.

After that first experience we called Altuu again with renewed confidence and joy at the thought of shopping. This time we met up, bought a few knick knacks in his tiny shop before he began leading us hither and yon. We'd tell him what we needed to buy and he'd take us to an appropriate location, waiting with us sometimes or heading back to his shop if we'd be taking a while. Where possible we were taken toi the bazaar wholesalers in teh back corners off the main drag, hidden from most tourists and I assume Turks without contacts as well. It was just lovely being able to buy waterpipes and backgammon boards without a need to quibble over prices. One example, 40 lira for Eric's backgammon board that usually has a 180-200 starting price in the bazaar proper. Very nice.

We all wanted different things, but my carpet shopping was undeniably the big ONE stop. We were taken to a shop Altuu had a friend, unfortunately not in on the day. Interestingly, even he couldn't tell me rug prices, for some reason I had been thinking working in the bazaar grants one strange and mystical powers on accurate pricing, and he was actually unsure of where the store he was looking for was amidst the warren. After finding it though he told the salesman he wanted no commission and asked we be given a fair price; something the rug man told me repeatedly during the closing stages of the negotiation.

Once we were in there, out came the rugs. Wump, wump, wool, silk, cotton, weaves, looms, Uzbekistan, Turkey. ENough to make a head spin. I didn't start asking prices at the start, instead ffocusing on narrowing what lay before me to a manageable number. Going through, catching the maybes, tossing the nos and slowly working down, eventually asking the two words of destiny, "How much?"

ALl the carpets already had price tags affixed of course. Labels saying $1200 and EURO 800 making my eyes bleed just a little. These prices are there for when a guide brings a tour group through apparently and the guide's commission must be considered at such moments, or so I was told. My starting prices were given anywhere from 100-300 lira depending on size, weave, material, age etc. I chose slowly, and harvested , asking for opinions from Zoe and Eric, taking weight and bulk into account on top of everything else.

Once down to a few choices, my counter offers started coming in, seeing what combos would work best for me, but only working with 3-5 carpets at this point. Given the money involved and the fact Kristin wouldn't be reimbursing me on this purchase there was a titch more tension in the air. I offered...he responded...these 2? Maybe 3? Always looking for that perfect combo. And then I stared and stared and stared, tortured over the decision, if 2 which 2, or maybe all 3? Zoe and Eric sat in silence watching teh proceedings.

Apparently having a hard time with a decision can be a good thing. I was genuine and explained the gift situation and my personal (relative) poverty. I was torn and really thinking it over. But suddenly after much back and forth and extended silences he extended his hand...asking me to take it. "I don't know...what am I shaking on? I'm nervous..." A little truth in all my statements but still fully aware that the game was on. "200 for three" he said. SOLD!

Once again he told me of his desire to ensure my happiness, love in his heart, etc etc. Who knows how much was BS but the sale had been made and he could BS or lie or tell the truth about love or any other subject all he wanted.

In retrospect I think having the salesman tired may have helped my cause. Whether it was his daughter or some girlfriend keeping him up until 6 that morning I couldn't quite understand, but he told me he was tired. Perhaps also a little nicotine stressed. There is no smoking in the bazaar apparently, 50 lira fine if caught by the police. He snuck one in with my permission in the shop with the door closed. The AC kept the air plenty clean but the next time I may claim asthma then reqally have a hard time deciding as teh cravings kick in...just to see what happens.

After THAT monstrostity it was plates and scarves and this and that and round and round Zoe went...Eric and I being oh so patient.Before we knew it we'd been shopping for 6 hours and were trundling home exhausted, after thanking Altuu for his hard work and kindness of course.

success

What the title said, only with more exclamation marks!

market

For all those people who check this blog religiously (HA!), this post is for you.

I'm going to the Grand Bazaar today. And to be honest I'm a bit nervous. I actually have to buy some things, but hopefully the wheeling and dealing won't get too intense.

Hopefully.

Amazıngly Istanbul

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

We have been busy. I don´t know how thıs post ıs goıng to go and flow...let us fınd out.

So yesterday ıt was all about Topkapı Palace, the long term home of Ottoman Sultans and a huge palace stuck on the poınt that has the Golden Horn on one sıde and the Bosphorus on the other.

Now thıs ıs one bıg palace. From kıtchens wıth lots of porcelaın to the treasury fılled wıth treasure, holy smokes. There were crazy robes and awesome swords and the fıfth bıggest dıamond ın the world (known as the Spoon Trader dıamond (or somethıng lıke that) because a guy found ıt ın a trash dump and got three spoons for ıt...oops) and the Topkapı dagger whıch had a movıe made aBOUT ıt ın the 1960s. I´ve never heard of the movıe but now I wıll need to watch ıt. It´s called Topkapı for those who want to watch ıt themselves.

So many thıngs there. We then paıd the extra 10 lıra to g ınto the harem...basıcally the domestıc quarters ın the olden days. No naked ladıes (or men). A lot of peple skıp ıt because of the extra cost but wıth my newfound passıon for colours and patterns I am super glad I went through.

So cool.

After Topkapı we wandered down to the eastern end of the Orıent Express (IStanbul´s traın statıon before amblıng and kıllıng some tıme and goıng over to the Taksım Square area. We had been there the nıght before but thıs tıme we were meetıng up wıth a frıend of Zoe´s who went to Queen´s but ıs Turkısh and ıs now lıvıng and workıng ın Istanbul. That was fuın to go out and grab a bıte to eat and a few beers wıth a person who could do the orderıng, fınd the rooftop locatıon etc etc. Very nıce.

Today was all about the Bosphorus cruıse. Many thıngs to see. Many pıctures to take. Much amazement to have at the confluence of Europe and Asıa. Very cool. At the far end we rode the bus back to check out Rumelı Hısarı (Fortress of Europe). It was a huge castle buılt ın conjunctıon wıth one on the Asıan sıde at the Bsphorus´ most narrow poınt. Mehmet the Conqueror managed t get ıt buılt ın 4 months (death threats or somethıng) but then took Constantınple shortly thereafter meanıng he no llonger needed to cut the cıty ff. Instead ıt became a glorıfıed toll booth on the rıver traffıc. Cool castle. Fun vısıt. And then ıt was back towards the centre of town to look at some stuff (a Genoese Tower...the Galata Tower) and then wanderıng lookıng for old Synagogues ın the area. We found them but none were open...apparently one has prayers tonıght (fRIDAY AND ALL). The Jewısh communıty that used to lıve ın that area has moved elsewhere so they are not really as actıve but ıt ıs neat to see how the synagogues sımply exıst wıthın the neıghbourhood makıng them very hard to fınd.

Yu have to look fr Stars of Davıd very closely.

Apparently the O on thıs keyboard ıs fınıcky.

Hrrrm...and then I had a fısh sandwıch and now I am on the ınternet and soon I wıll bathe and tomorrow we are gıng shoppıng ın the Grand Bazaar. The adventures never stop.

Istanbul

After an overnıght bus rıde, an easıly found shuttle bus ınto town and an equally easıly found Bıg Apple Hostel, Istanbul seems lıke an alrıght cıty.

Free ınternet ın the lobby, comfy and clean beds ın the dorms and people aren,t horrıbly loud when shufflıng about ın the mornıng. All ın all a good place to spend a few days.

Yesterday ıt RAINED HARDCORE (poured). That was weırd, but I guess we´re close to Europe, a bıt fırther nrth and raın ın the summer ıs not totally unheard of. I guess. Stıll ıt threw us off more than a lıttle, lackıng basıc umbrella and poncho supplıes.

Stıll we took ın the Hagıa Sofıa and teh Blue Mosque as well as teh Basılıca Cıstern. All these thıngs were fantastıc. I expecıally enjoyed thumbıng Hagıa Sofıa...and yes I dıd thumb the church/mosque ın the most explıcıt way you can ımagıne. I nly found out afterwards one does thıs to ıncrease fertılıty...oh well. I wıll just be careful (as always) for the next few days. And when I say thumb there´s a pıllar wıth a hole and you stıck ın your thumb and rotate. I also enjoyed the gıant Islamıc medallıons arund the place and attempted to take a pıcture a la Bond ın from Russıa Wıth Love (Octopussy) whıch had a scene ın the hagıa...ıt turned out alrıght.

The cıstern was fun...get out of the raın by goıng underground ınto a water stoarge chamber...and had carp t look at and some upsıde down and sıdeways medusa heads at the base of sme f the pıllars. A lot f them were reused from other projects so they all had dıfferent appearances. And the whole mood was set wıth the lıghtıng and musıc, just super.

And the blue mosque was another mosque. Nıce place. Lovely decoratıons. And some fun ınfo pamphlets on Islam...and free whıch was good. But stıll just another mosque.

Today ıt´s Tokapı palace and maybe across to Asıa on the ferry. Last nıght we crossed the Golden Horn to Taksım and that was nıce, ıf a bıt tryıng when the restranteur kept tryıng to make varıous magıcal charges appear. I managed to lead everyone home safely (strange how new people don´t trust my sense of dırectıon late at nıght on darkened streets) and that was that.

Because I have ınternet at hand and free I feel you may be gettıng more rapıd updates. We shall see.

Goreme

There's meant to be an accent on the o or the e or something, but I'll leave it to you're very adept imaginations.

We have been here for three days, counting the one of our arrival and are leaving for Istanbul tonight. One more overnight bus and then it's planes the rest of the way. Exciting!

5 days in Istanbul. A few more than I planned but really, I don't think I'm allowed to complain about being stuck in Istanbul for an extra day or so. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do.

But first Goreme. Awesome. Hot in the day, cool at night, the air is soooo clean and there are a tonne of hiking trails all over the place. There are lots of rock faces to scale and places to get yourself stuck in...think about making a jump top get yourself unstuck, then thinking better and going back the way you came to find a better way down. I'm writing this so I must have made some correct decisions today.

This is also the area where there are a lot of underground cities. I've seen excerpts of these but all the full blown, hardcore underground places are a bit further afield and I haven't gotten to them as a result. There are lots of pigeon roosts however, all built ay up on the cliff faces where you can ojnly stare and wonder why. It turns out, like with most aspects of life, it's all about the shit. Collect the pigeon shit, fertilize your fields and have a party featuring lots and lots of fruit.

JOYS!

I scrambled into one today, not too shitty anymore...I think you need to leave some food there for them to come by, but really cool and there was an old ladder in there to boot, just abandoned kind of feel to the place.

The canyon I was venturing down today also had some tunnels, but I believe they were more water worn than anything else. The canyon is all overgrown and thorny ( I should have rolled down my pant legs...yeesh) and the best way to avoid this is to enter the tunnels/water channels that follow the valley's edge. Sometime this means crawling and scrambling but really I'm going to throw these pants out in a few days so whatever.

Good adventure today.

Yesterday I went up Pigeon Valley to the next little town over, saw what they were calling a 'castle' which is really just a high point that at one time had some tunnels running through it, but now is just a weathered chuink of rock. Then I went down Love Valley eating apricots off trees the whole way (if I'd known before hand I wouldn't have bought the dried ones). I should mention that the table from which I bought the dried apricots had four words, one atop the others. I don't remember all the details, just that line 2 said something about viagra and line 4 was a comment on aphrodisiac...so apparently dried apricots and peanuts are the key. I bought some peanuts cooked in honey and sesame seeds that tasted like a treat I was obsessed with in Vietnam. Nummmy num nums. Aphrodisiac or not, delicious.

Then as I mentioned...Love Valley. No particular reason for it to be called this except for all the penis looking rock formations. Pretty good impressions. I guess that's what constitutes love around here, tall vertical shafts reaching for the sky.

Lovely.

But as i said Goreme is super...the air is great and if I actually would WRITE SOMETHING it might be a place I could set up shop in for some serious pondering. As is I'd just be wasting my time because I haven't written anything. Blech.

Hrrrm, I think that's all. I'm writing this on the comp in the lobby of the Flintstone Hotel where we stayed. We checked out at 10 but they let you use all the services (shower, pool, comp etc) all day until your bus leaves. Very nice.

In return I left them some filthy sock I wore hiking today and likely an ASUS Campsm 2002 (2003?) tshirt...I might bring it with me but I brought clothes with me to toss so I should start tossing more.

See you in Istanbul!

T ıs for Turkey

Yes ındeedy. Also, strange keyboards so bear wıth me ıf you wouldn't mınd.

The cab to Antakya went well and rıght away we had a bus booked to Antalya...14 hours away and overnıght. For the fırst tıme ın my lıfe I slept exceedıngly well on saıd bus. Well I guess ıt was the fırst tıme ın my lıfe on that bus, but I slept better on ıt than any bus ın the hıstory of me.

We came to Antalya to go to Olympos, an amazıng beach place. I don't want toı call ıt town because ıt's really just a whole bunch of hotels and pensyıons. The place got ıts start wıth ,treehouses but the place we stayed at, I feel one of the more upperend dealıes on the beachc had all sorts of cabıns and dorms and hotel typed structures. The last remaınıng treehouses were actually buılt ın the trees ımmedıately over the dınıng area, and I can't ımagıne they,re very relaxıng.

The hotel ıs bascıally an excuse to wander down the dırt path,through the ancıent cıty of Olympus and out to the beach. Holy crow. Now that's a nıce beach. I trıed to spend all my tıme ın the shade, except when out swımmıng of course, but I somehow stıll got a WICKED SUnburn everywhere. Don't even ask me. The next day Iput on sunscreen and found better shade. I don,t thınk I hAD any extra burnıng.

Huzzah.

Apparently Medıterranean aır also makes me very very tıred because I was sleepıng constantly ın OLympus. On the beach ın the cabın etc. We even went on a lıttle trıp last nıght and I was strugglıng to stay awake ın the bus.

The trıp was to Chımera...a spot where fıre just kınd of emerges from the rocks. It was a funny lıttle trıp where everyone hıkes up a mountaın path ın the dark to look at flames. It ıs very lovely and peaceful and an amusıng lıttle trıp. I only wısh I had remembered hotdogs.

Rıght now I'm ın the Antalya otogar {bus statıon} kıllıng tıme and contemplatıng the future.

Zoe ıs goıng to Goreme at 10 tonıght (another opvernıght bus) and I'm thınkıng. I'm burned out on the whole trvel thıng and wıth a few clıcks and a few extra dollars/pounds/euros I could head to Istanbul, spend a few days there then go vısıt Mary Marg ın Edınburgh. It appears, however, that she may not be ın Edınburgh, throwıng a wrench ınto those carefully laıd out plans. Decısıons...decısıons.

So far the coast lıne of Turkey ıs very cottagey...pıne trees and towns/cıtıes all buılt up for holıdayers. It all feels very Muskoka etc etc. Nıce country though. It's funny how relaxed one becomes when the buses are regular and clean and have regular schedules and companıes attached to them. You pay for ıt of course, travellıng ıs much more expensıve,but ıt's good. I thınk.

I'm ready to be done travellıng already and ıt has only been a month and a bıt. I must be gettıng old.

workers in Syria

At the Citadel yesterday I sat down in some shade and when I stood up and climbed the a high point I couldn't find Zoe. She'd ended up outside the citadel, and after waiting for a bit went shopping. I headed back to the hotel, but on my way decided I needed to take a picture of a sewing machine.

They were Jaki brand, and this amused me. I thought I'd take a picture for my friend of similar spelling, but given there was a gent behind the desk I asked permission. Inevitably some other fellow appeared who wanted to speak English...the point of this story is not another "and then I had tea" although there was tea. So let's get on with it.

A lot of people, Syrians and Jordanians, are interested in me because I'm Canadian and they want work. The fellow yesterday was attending a language institute so he could learn English and get to Canada. He was asking all sorts of questions on the state of the garment industry in Canada. He is a sewing machine technician and that was the obvious line for work
(later they were asking about his friends curtain and furniture cover fabric samples and where they might be sold in Canada...why do they expect me to know these things?)
I did my best to give what I knew and also told him his best bet for work or getting to Canada was to write the Canadian embassy and see what's up. He seemed to think I would be the key to him getting to Canada somehow...maybe as a sponsor? Although I'm not sure how a man of my particular resources would be able to help. Especially if I'm in France.

The interesting thing is the desire to work. There is not much work here. There is a reason so many people seem to be engaged in retail of various kinds...it's easy to get into and if you sell a few pieces a day you can even make a living at it. Not everyone has asked me how to get to Canada to work, but a few have and even those that haven't sometimes have recently returned from overseas work.

And now I have a distinct feeling I was going somewhere significant;y more interesting with this and I've just totally forgotten where it was. Heh. That's what I get for listening to music while I write. Thus is life.

Workers in Syria. Who knew. Hey Fort MacMurray, here's your next direct flight location...just don't hire any Bedouin.

Aleppo

So here I am in Aleppo. A nice city, but one I have a hard time getting a firm grasp on.

Maybe that's because I'm coming out of the sick (feeling better, doing solid things, regaining an appetite), and tired (sleeping a lot the last few days, looking forward to some more again tonight), or who knows. It's reputedly a more conservative city, but that doesn't affect me too much...fewer shoulders to look at I suppose. I guess the streets are quite entwined??? Ah, heck I don't know. Maybe if I'd had time and energy to wander more I would have enjoyed the place a bit more, and I certainly didn't dislike it so there's nothing to complain about.

So Aleppo. It is the land of the Souq, lots and lots of them, both the tourist kind and the domestic home wares and toothpaste kind. Really you can't go wrong. These souqs are narrower and lower than the ones in Damascus so they have a slightly more authentic feel. I even bought something in one today. I didn't bargain very hard, but what are you going to do? I figured I had to get SOMETHING in one.

The other main site in town, aside from wandering various quarters is the citadel. A human made mound with lots of fortifications (in various states of repair) on top. Wicked views, some nice dark holes and an amazingly restored throne room. The things you can do with wood and a bit of glaze.

Aside from that...?

Nice enough, but we're moving on shortly. Turkey to be more specific, tomorrow at noon, and after arriving in Antakya we're going to try and find an overnight bus to places elsewhere. Distances are bigger (much bigger) in Turkey so we figure we may as well attempt some overnighters on what are reputedly tremendously comfortable buses. We shall see. We've pegged out two places to visit before Istanbul, Olympos on the Mediterranean coast and Goreme in Cappadocia. The latter is the place with those cool stone conical deals and hotels with caves for rooms. Hey hey hey!

I anticipate full internet access in what are two very touristy/backpacker locales, but you never know, so be a little patient.

next

Tomorrow to Aleppo then onto Turkey on Wednesday.

Not sure exactly where we're goign in Turkey but we're aiming to be in Istanbul proper for only 4 or 5 days so we have 6 or 7 days to visit some other Turkish locales. We shall see how it goes.

Qa'laat Salah al-Din

I'm sure I've spelled Saladin's name about 23 different ways, but whatever, you get the idea.

Today we visited his castle!

It is a pretty sweet place. Set above a pine forest that smells just like Muskoka it is just lovely. It is in two levels with the upper level being an entire castle and teh lower lever just having a wall around it. I suppose in the past there might have been buildings there, but it might also have been a really nice orchard or something.

Also the road runs past the castle on the north side, and although the current entrance is up some stairs on the east side, I think the entrance used to be over the modern road. I say this because the road is in a 30 foot wide chasm and at one end there is a pillar of rock that apparently used to support some sort of draw bridge. I'm sure I'm doing a terrible job describing this, but believe me when I say it's pretty cool.

The castle has a very different feel than a lot of the other crusader castles we've visited. I'm not sure if this is because it was built by Saladin or what the deal is, but it was a nice place.

Once agian, unfrotunately, I had trouble with the ISIC card. Maybe a reminder was just sent out, but I'm having to pay 150 pounds now when it's 10 as a student. Alas. It was funny today. I try to be aghast that they're not accepting my student card although I fully understand that the government has made a decisions and I don't have much to argue about.
"But I'm a sutdent, I pay tutitions and everything"
"You're in Syria now and here it's 26."
"Really?"

WHo knows how well he understood embittered sarcasm. Good times.

Where am I now?

I don't even know...

Actually it's a city called Lattakia, on the Mediterranean Sea in the northwest of Syria. It's an interesting city, described as more laid back than the rest of the country and I can only agree. The non head scarfed ladies outnumber those with tetes covered and I've even seen some shoulders here. Mind blowing shit I know.

We arrived here and promptly bumped into Pierre again. I think I've emntioned him, but he's a New Brunswicker who we met in Damascus and saw again in Hama. He went to Aleppo, but on;y spent a day there. We've also being hanging out with Nick, a Swede of Greek and Polish descent.

Yesterday we decided to have a beach day, so we hopped on a public bus and rode north then wandered doent a street until we reached teh "beach". The beach was nice, I guess, except it was just rock, and the garbage (that's to be expected) but the best part was the Zoe show.

Well I guess we were all pretty popular, but Zoe was hell bent on sun bathing in her bikini, so she did. The result was clusters of men and plenty of stairs from teh girls too. Nick and Pierre were dragged off to someone's house for some watermelon and Zoe and I stayed on the beach hanging out. Lots of people doing the ol' "I'm going to take a picture of you right here" while carefully aiming over the shoulder and other fun. And for whatever reason we even had a baby show up. People love handing the baby off to Zoe so they can take some pics.

WHo knows.

Pierre and Nick returned declaring themselves not having a relaxed beach day (apparent;y being tugged and poked and "come here" and "look at this" inhibits relaxation). So we took off, ambling back up the road towards the mainstreet taht would take us back to Lattakia...but wait.Le Meridien, a nice hotel was on the way so we decided t stop off there. Of course they have ridiculous prices if you want to use their pool and beach, so it's a good thing we were guests at the hotel. Room 351.

So we ended up on a real sandy beach with cold showers and a pool. Very nice.

Unfortunately when we returned I was really starting to feel whatever I was feeling. I had had a sore throat a few days before but my brain decided to feel swollen and my lower back sore and my legs really fatigued. WHo knows. If Anyone knows what said symptoms suggest, do tell, but I am feeling better today so not too many worries.

men in suits

I forgot to mention.

The ministry of the Interior in Damascus where we had to get our pass to visit the Golan Heights isin the embassy area, or at least one of them. To get to the place we cruised by the Dutch embassy, the Danish (or what's left of it was just ont he next road) and tehn best of all teh US embassy which was facing the Chinese and Iraqis. Heh.

There were two types of people hanging out in this area. The first type were miltary types. Machine guns and ammo pouches around there tummies, but no uniforms. There are lots of uniformed military types in Syria but wherever shit could get real (embassies, Golan Heights, etc). They get to wear jeans and a t-shirt, or a collared shirt, really it seems as long as they're presetable they're acceptable.

The other type of people hanging out in the area are gentlemen in suits. No weapons apparent, just them in their suits and sunglasses. Hanging out, looking around...maybe I can take a quick picture? Don't worry I didn't bother trying.

I should mention...

I've had a wicked brain destroying cold/sickness for a few days. Well actually just yesterday and into today really. I'm getting over it but am kind of drained and if my writing is shit, that's why.

If all my writing is shit...well I don't know what to tell you.

paying for the bus

We do a lot of our travelling in small vans that hold about 15 people including the driver.

In general they hang around and leave when full, dropping people off and picking people up as space and neccessity dictates. The fun part comes in the fare.

People pay what the fare is but when change needs to be made the passengers generally do a lot of the math and change making as the moneys are passed up from the back. When change can't be made teh driver will do it, and generally one of the people in the row immediately behind will be responsible for passing teh money up and saying how many people it is for.

Not THAT exciting I guess. Except when it's me and I get to use my stupendously awesome Arabic number abilities.

Stupendously.

Mongols

Reading variuous museum displays one always notices Crusader castles were attacked and besieged by Salh-ha Din. Some he took, some just quit, for instance Krak de Chevaliers was taken but only because the Latin Kingdoms were at an end, not because they were in danger of falling. Others he showed up and then walked away knowing they'd never be taken.

One also reads the histories of the castles. Built by crusdaers, augmented by muslim owners etc, but then...for all the polemics attached to the crusades, the Christians vs the Muslims etc. in this area a lot of the fortresses also include a little section on the Mongols.

There is never any 'the Mongols tried to take it and failed'...they simply didn't. I don't know why this struck me as so interesting. I suppose in part because it is mildly amusing that THAT part of the history gets forgotten, but also because the Mongols are so bad-assed. I mean look at a map of the empire at its fullest extent and have your mind blown. And apparently 6-12% (or something) of all the population in those areas can trace some ancestry to Genghis himself. Good to be the king. (I very easily could have mis-remembered some of these facts and figures, but intersting to\ be sure).

Krak de Chevaliers

Mercy I've been at this internet console a while...whatever, this story must be told.

Yesterday I saw it. The castle of castles. TE Lawerence said something along the lines of every schoolboys dreams of castles are based around this one, and I would tend to agree.

Like most castles K d C (or Qa'laat al Hosn) sits atop a hill looking amazing. I can't be bothered to write in all the details but it has crazy tunnels and ramps and rooms and a giant oven and interior well and walls and a moat and towers and ramparts and more of all the above and more awesome still.

Look at some pictures I guess. Such a wicked place. And all the better because we sorted our way there using public transit. Word to anyone who ever wants to travel here using publuic transit. Get it done as early as possible. Buses don't dry up but there are certainly far more of them first thing in the morning than when we were returning around 330.

Krak de Chevaliers...yes.

Hama 2 (at the old mill)

So we parted ways with the repairman...oops I meant to mention, he must have other workers because these wheels are 4-10m in diameter (different sizes) and not exactly manageable for one dude.

Parted ways and walked across a stone causeway thing. Part of the structures they have set up to control water flows. For you see it is not just the waterwheels there are also a few flour mills around. Out of commission mid you. How do I know this?

Well, aross the causeway a fellow, well tanned and with a swimmer's body and no shirt was hanging out outside one of the mills. And he invited us in. SUre! Again through the wonders opf communication, his home was an old mill, complete with grinding stones from Denmark, France etc, and built into a building initially built by the Romans. Through a tiny hole in the floor we went beneath to inspect the metal waterwheels down there. These ones were just for power, no need to move water and in earlier times, before rust and decay had set in they were connected to vertical driveshafts and in turn to the grinding wheels above. For some reason he really wanted to show us the wheels turned and he and a friend tried to turn a couple of the metal hulks (only about 1.5-2m in diameter) but they only succeeded in breaking off a bunch of chunks.

We then returned upstairs and chatted for a few hours over some delicious lemon tea...I think just lemon tree leaves, but who knows. What did we talk about? I don't really know. His friend was saying something about haviong one kid who he hoped, starting at the age of 5 would begin learning English. Then some other guy showed up who had been beaten up a few days before by 10 cokeheads (the sniffing gesture is what I based that supposition on). Good times all around.

All I could say was majnoon (crazy), which I did, to great hilarity. But then we begged our goodbyes and were off. But we weren't quite. The 'dude' as I've taken to calling him showed us where he slept...a square cement room with pillows, and his 'garage' filled with...junk. Both places he insisted we take pictures of because that's what tourist do I guess. I think he just really enjoyed having us over and didn't want us to leave. He'd offered food for the next day but we had to turn him down.

These visits can be draining but they're always fun and they're a great way to kill some time.

Also, they have madew me realize that without trying too hard I've picked up some Arabic and can communicate on a very basic level. If I did that without trying imagine if I put my mind to it! Hopefully such things will be quickly realized in France.

Hama

As mentioned, we are now in Hama, successfully negotiating the city bus and Pullman bus station to get here.

Even managed to walk from the Hama station to the hotel. Maps are good, but when you're pack is on your back you just want to arrive.

As mentioned this is a city of norias and the river is a nice place to walk along looking for the beasts. The first day in we did just that and guess what??? Two people had us in for tea. SUrprise!

The first fellow was a workman, taking advatage of the season to replace some of the older parts in the biggest noria in town. He had taken off all the scoopy fins and was slowly fashioning the new parts out of some large blocks he had on hand. I'm not sure if he had people working with him (he must) but he said it would take about 20-25 days to finish the job...I think.

We tried to turn down his offer of tea...we wonder why we bother sometimes because they don't seem to ever take no as an answer. We were joined at the tea table by a Russian. He was sitting there with his nose in a phrasebook saying he way trying to speak Arabic. I have never thought about it before, but as he sat there, saying nothing and more importantly communiucating nothing I realized that was the worst way to talk to someone. If you're trying to have a conversation. I know I have the benefit of a few weeks and words but I'd rather smile and hand talk it up than do that. Event he workman seemed to think the Russian guy was a bit cuckoo. Who knows what he was looking for but what was he going to do? Ask when the next bus left then smile as he didn't understand the response.

I also want to mention again, when I talk to people and then remember the convo I always remember what was said as a known commodity. The actual conversations are more hand gestures and nods and smiles than anything approaching understood words, but I do feel a level of understanding. Both because I can pick out a few words and because there are certain things that people tend to ask in situations, tea? married? children? want some food? etc.

Golan Heights (redux and success)

So off we went again...and this time everything went super smoothly. We were old hands afterall.

The only thing was after we accepted a 500 sp offer for the drive around we saw a Japanese fellow walking on the site with his military escort (a dude who may or may not know anything about the city). So apparently the cost is only for the driver and we could have paid even less. Go figure.

But enough of economics. Quenaitra is a city/town (I'm not sure of its exact size, but significant) which was overrun nby Israeli troops, I believe during the 1967 war. (I should mention now that I can access a part of the blogger pages and write these posts, but for some reason can't see my old ones. My apologies if this is a rehash). They went pretty far and then pulled back and Queneitra was one of the spots they momentarily occuppied. Long enough to bulldoze all the houses and shoot up the hospital, etc etc.

It's a pretty strange place. There is a UN observation post there and a lot of flattened structures. The hospital remains, but became a shooting gallery, target practice zone so is pretty messy, the church is intact and the mosque has a giant hole in the minaret...aside from tha, pretty much flat. Some Syrians were picnicing in the rubble (revisiting homes?), but to get there we had to go through an occuppied but unalert UN checkpoint as well as one or two Syrian ones (hence the need for our little piece of paper from the ministry of the interior). A very desolate spot.

Just across the way (we were about 20m from the Israeli border at one point) everything turns very green. Israel was happily growing a lot of whatever right up to the border, looked over by a lot of structures and antennaes on some heights just a little ways off. And this is what, once again it's really all about. The water.

By taking the heights Israel, along with the defensive claims, gets the Sea of Galilee catchment, responsible for about a 1/3 of the country's water. In negotiations with Syria, they want all the Heights back, Israel wants to keep a 200m milkitary buffer on the easter side of the Galilee (I think I got all this from BBC). Politics, religion? BS. It's all about the maayeh (water).

An interesting trip and given the history happening right now in the region I think a better trip than wandering off to see yet another old city. That stuff's not going to change anytime soon.

First the general

We are currently in Hama, home to many large norias (waterwheels) that scoop the Orontes river into aqueducts that then carry it off to fields for irrigation. I'm not sure the aqueducts are the method of transit now, given a lot of them seem a bit frayed and well...non-existent at points, but I'm assured that in spring when the water levels are higher these big glorious bastards creak into action and spread water here and there. They are necessary because the Orontes has fairly steep banks, making other methods of extraction less helpful.

Hama itself is a nice city, pleasant to walk in during the evenings. Today we walked on the other bank up a ways and it was slightly less pleasant. Maybe it was just the time of day but things felt hrrrrm, I'll say less nice. Probably because people don't usually go for walks over there.

Unfortunately our walk ended at the museum wherethey decided by student identity card was illegitimate. Apparently, despite my use of it all over Syria, there is some 3 month old command from the head poobah in Damascus that students can only be students to the age of 26. So I'm screwed. Hopefully it's a one time deal because I much prefer spending 10 syrian pounds to get into places over 150. Go figure.

But let's get to some specifics.

english overseas

At the guest house I have had a number of conversations, as is my want, and they have got me thinking.

One Welsh fellow is currently working in Cairo for the British Council, teaching English and spreading the good word of British culture to all who will listen. He works about 4 days a week with fairly relaxed hours and gets reasonable holiday and pay.

Another feloow, Pierre the New Brunswicker, is currently living life in Saudi Arabia. Gets about 5 months holiday a year and is getting paid very well. Only draw back is he has to live in Saudi Arabia.

The conversations, however, have made me very aware of the teaching English opportunities that are out there. I don't think I can become insanely wealthy, but it seems you can make a living, and if you're a little bit careful with your money even put some of it away. And the time off...well if I could just get that whole self-discipline thing down I could actually do some writing.

Unfortunately, it also means living overseas for years at a time, with brief visits back, rather than living in Canada and travelling overseas. Decisions decisions. IU guess my upcoming stint in France will give me an idea of whether it is something I want to pursue.

Nargila

Oh yee water pipe with flavoured tabacco...a stereotypical part of the middle east and one that I would have liked to imbibe periodically.

Unfortunately nargila and I do not agree. Not sure if I inhale too deeply or smoke too quickly or what it is, but after a relaxed 15-20 minutes I always end up feeling unright and have a cold sweat break out all over my body.

Oh well. I tried. I guess I'll just have to spend my money on various fruit drinks.

Things that make me say darn.

Golan Heights (and roads not taken)

We were casting around for a day trip to do from here, and not having much luck, when a New Brunswicker named Piere suggested a trip to the Golan Heights.

We figured out the buses got to the station, caught our connection, got to the town where you go on to the previously occupied area and...we needed some sort of pass from the ministry of the interior in Damascus. Oh crud.

At least we were using local buses and it wasn't too expensive. We know where we need to go to get the passes and the plan is to do tomorrow what we meant to do today. Should be a gas! And hopefully all our friends will be waiting to gouge us for a one hour tour. Heh.

We have decided not to bother with a day trip to Bosra (former capital of Rome's province here) and home of a gigantic amphitheatre. And also skip Palmyra, another Roman city, generally considered to be 'can't miss'. Why skip the two biggest Roman sites in Syria...just because. Bosra just kind of was put aside, maybe we would have gone down there if Golan wasn't happening. Palmyra just seems like a lot of effort to see another city. We've already seen a few and hiking our bags over there (on a bus of course) just doesn't seem terribly appealing).

So when we leave here, we'll be heading north to Hama and Crac de Chevaliers...now castles, I don't think I'll ever tire of them.

Friday

Friday is the holy day here, and Damascus REALLY shuts down on a Friday. Not just the city but all the 'tourist' places as well.

It reveals how a great deal of the tourist industry here, unlike in SE Asia is not based around the western Europeans and North Americans. An interesting difference. Saturday seems a bit more relaxed day than the rest of the week but the stark contrast to how much the whole place shuts down onj Friday is something else.

Where to begin??? - general

The last few days have been about wandering and relaxing.

The Al- Arabie hotel continues to be lovely...the water has been a bit finicky but whatever. The relaxed covered garden is aces. From there we have wandered the old city of Damascus a number of times.

Therein we visited a Khan...an old rest house used by the caravans. This one had a large central courtyard with fountain and the rooms in corridors around the outside. Got me wondering, did the old caravan guys ever talk about their favourite Khans? Did Achmad's khan in damascus really have the best hummus, and was looked forward to once every 3 years?

Checked out the house/palace of the Ottomoan administrator. This was divided into two sections, one for business and one for family. It to was all about a central courtyard with fountain. This seems to be a repeated pattern, just a question scale. It's interesting how so many of these houses have tiny doors to the street and so much more space on the inside that from a narrow darkened door you would never guess existed.

We also wandered a number of covered souqs...basically a lot of stores.Given my minimal desire to buy anything, whatever.

And the showpiece of the place. The Ummayad Mosque. This jobby is huge and has plenty of fancy columns and artwork to please the eye. Zoe had to throw on a little hooded garment which she fell in love with. I, however was not fortunate enough to don special duds. Sigh, maybe someday.

Aside from that the old city is a lot of walking, a lot of questioning why a car feels the need to be there, etc. The cars do remind me that the city is still lived and in use. Yes there are restaurants and shops everywhere, but they are still very much part of a live in space.

And I will also mention here, the glory of the ISIC card. International Student Identity Card. Basically wqe've been using it for admissions and they tend to drop from 50 syrain pounds to 10, or once from 150 to 10. Very nice indeed.

stares

Also, I have decided to retire from stressing about whatever looks may or may not be directed at the various blond harlots I find myself walking around with from time to time.

I realized one day that I tend to glance at a periodic girl myself, maybe I bit more surreptitiously than the looks one normally sees here, but equivalent just the same. My looks are always welcomed (I think... right, maybe?), but I think the line is too fine so I have no right to criticize.

ice cream???

In Jordan you hear the plaintive strains of an ice cream truck from time to time. Only trick is, it's actually the propane truck.

Nothing more to the story than that. Just amusing.

last meat in Jordan

I feel I should mention that my last sandwich that had meat in Jordan was an attempted shwarma that turned out to be liver and onions.

That first bite left no doubt and got rid of that pesky anemia.

Syria

Woot!

Border went well, and I may have even been able to buy a visa there...meh, life is easier when it's already in your passport. Got to Damascus and ... hosed on the cab fare. Not the worst in the world, but a pain in the ass just the same. I talked him 'down' to about 5 times what we should have paid, but then he didn't have the right change and ... blech.

Very friend;y guy and the best part was he was busy negotiating all the drives he would take me on in the next few days while he was screwing me on the first one. Sure thing pal!!! Also, I really enjoyed when he was showing me his driver's license with his year of birth and asking for mine...are you sure you don't want to watch the road? No? Okay!

Like I said, a fine fellow to be sure.

Damascus, at least the immediate downtown seems super keen. Or at least fairly keen. There is a bit of a dearth of things to do (as awkwardly worded as that is). Mayhaps a place to relax more than site see, although the old city has plenty of that to do. The really weird thing about Dam. is because it is built on a plain there are straight roads and sightlines.

As I live and breath. I thought the hills of Amman were starting to wear on my mind a bit and I think I was right.

Already I have has a shwarma, tastes different than in Jordan, and found a store with a bunch of REALLY interesting maps of Syria. Maybe they were just for show??? Maybe they are for sale and I will soon be regretting my actions and also being poor. Mumkin.

This internet cafe is near the French cultural centre and there are some people chatting french in here. Maybe now is my time to start practicing. Or not.

Qalaat ar-Rabad and tea (of course)

So as planned on the last full day in Jordan we headed out to Ajloun to check out Qasr ar-Rabad. For those that were in Jordan previously and are now reading this (you know who you are) the bus system is THAT much easier on the weekdays. Holy crap were those little bastards moving out of the station in a hurry.

3 seconds out of the cab and we were on our way.

The castle was schwank, built with a smaller footprint than Karak it was more layers and ramps and stairs on top of itself. Very cool. As far as who wins in a fight a Crusader castle or a Islamic castle. Depends on the mountain I guess. They all seem pretty cool to me.

We were walking back to town to catch our bus back to Amman and as per usual were invited for coffee. We were politely declining until the guy said "we're not all Osama bin-Ladens" or something to that effect. Heh.

Jurious was the man's name and apparently he and the family were on the porch with ready made coffee because a nephew had been electrocuted at the Dead Sea a few days before and they were still accepting condolences. Ah-hah. Thanks for the invite! But as per usual they were great people.

Jurious, whose name means George (like the saint...although at first I thought he was sayiong jurious like curious like curious george) was very interested in explaioning that most Muslims in Jordan are top notch, it's just the fundamentalists that are bad news. They have too many kids and are therefore able to take charge in elections and control a great number of seats in parliament. Interesting. He told us all sorts of stuff, like how lots of Jordanians now in US and Canada tend to come back to get their dental work done and even with the flight they're still only at 20%. What a deal!

After tea we bid farewell and got on a bus for Amman. A bus featuring an artist who told me I had a beautiful face, and then told Zoe she had one and then drew her portrait as we weaved and wobbled and ground gears through the mountains of northern Jordan.

Nice picture...looks very minimally like Zoe, but a nice picture to be sure.

And that...I think that's all I have to say about Jordan. (for now)

guidebooks

And I'll just throw this in...I'm much more comfortable with the idea of using a guidebook this time around.

I guess I'm not trying to prove myself (as much) or I'm more confident or something. Or maybe it's because as long as I don't wear a tan vest with the LP guide in hand I won't look too goofy.

I'm sure he's a wonderful person and a tremendous traveller, and mocking him only belittles me, but what's done is done.

...next

We haven't figured out how we're going to Damascus, but it will happen on Wednesday. That is one thing we know for sure!
(bus or service taxi, not a big deal).

Tomorrow though is up in the air. I decided not to bother with the desert castles to the east of AMman, but there is a castle up north near Ajloun that I might want to check out. It's an Islamic castle, built by Salah-ha Din's nephew or son or something, rather than the Crusader castles that were subsequently altered that I have seen thus far.

The town itself is just past Jerash and I think getting there will require a similar series of tricks (ie bus station, local bus etc.) something I'm fairly confident with. So maybe that for tomorrow.

Then off to Syria Wednesday.

Damascus then likely Palmyra, Homs (or more likely the city north of it that has big cool waterwheels), Krak de Chevaliers (now that's a castle!), Lattakia on teh coast then Aleppo before rocking and rolling all the way to Istanbul. Maybe bus, maybe train, maybe we shall see. I think that's enough writing for me. I know I keep saying I'll start doing this more often, and maybe some day I will. And the you'll get to read the really incisive, thoughtful commentary.

Amman history

So basically there are 4 or 5 million people in Amman today. Originally built on 7 hills it's now on a whole bunch more. Some edges tend to sprawl farther than others, but apparently a lot of its growth is simply due to the fact it has now connected to the Palestinian refugee camps and suburbs that surround it.

In 1948 there was only 30 000 people here and that jumped to 250 000 by 1960. Crazy! A part of that is Palestinian but apparently people tend to have more kids generally these days and for Amman's specific case a lot of people who formerly lived Bedouiny, nomadic or small town lives, have simply moved to the city.

Seeing the pictures of Amman around the Roman Theatre (I think they were 1920s ish) was cool. There was one or two houses behind, where now it's a wall.

Wandering the city I've also been noticing a distinct French Cambodian feel to the place. Now the French protectorates were Syria and Lebanon, but maybe their art deco influence managed to subtly wander down here as well? Or maybe it's just because I'm reading a book about Pol Pot (almost done Kristin, thanks) and it's hot out? Who knows.

Whtever the case. Amman is alright. And I actually do feel better about it now that I had an out and about day with lots of clambering. Do I want to live here? Mumkin, but I'd need to get a wicked apartment on a hill. That would be key, for both air quality and noise levels. I could see it. But I can see anything when I have some books to read and some other ones to write in.

Amman

Mercy...tired...hopefully you're following along alright.

Bus from Karak to Amman went smoothly. We grabbed a cab from the station. The guy wanted a 4JD fair, but we said meter. He said okay, but gas prices are going up so itll be 4 JD. At the end of the ride the meter said 1.400JD so I paid that and he kept asking for 4, although he might have switched to 2 at one point. While he was asking for that he was also writing his number and name on a piece of paper if we needed his services further and Zoe was unloading the trunk. All very confusing, but our bags were out of the back, he was paid what he was owed and we found a room for 4JD a pop at teh CLiff Hotel. PERFECT!

I've spent a lot of time not doing too much in Amman. Just napping and sleeping and watching soccer that's playing in a restaurant across the alley from our room. It's too far to make much our I spend most of my time trying to guess which teams are playing and why the Jordanians might be cheering for one team over another. They LOVE the Russians.

We tried to find Indiana Jones at a move theatre here yesterday and we found the two theatres, but neither was playing Indy. Apparently he's at the uptown theatre...maybe when I'm back home, although it would have been fun to see it here.

I've been having a weird sensation of being trapped in Amman the last few days. Not stuck, but physically enclosed. I have two theories around this. The first one is Zoe. She doesn't want it, and I'm not consciously doing it, but there's a degree of protection I feel the need to provide here. Even if it's just looks I find myself responding to them or moving in front of them...my ass is nicer anyway. Zoe (and Kristin and other girls on the dig I assume) tend to ignore the looks altogether. They're going to happen so why get worked up about them? So this was one thought I had. Zoe was going up to University of Jordan in the north of Amman today, so if that was the cause maybe it is out of my system now.

The other possible cause is the geography of the city itself. Amman is built onto hills and tends to sprawl. The sprawl isn't a big deal, but the hills throw a wrench in my traditional wanderings. Look at a map and you think you have an idea where you're going, until you run into a mountain and realize that those two roads that are very close and parallel are actually separated by the ol' 50 foot vertical drop. As a result until today I found myself restricted to the valley floor.

But TODAY! I made a decision to walk over some mountains. And I did. There are lots of staircases about that you just need to look for and just been willing to sweat a bit (and tighten your glutes) allows you to save time and escape the geography of the mountains, if only for a minute. My wanderings took me to the bus station, then the Iraqi embassy before scaling another of the hills to find the Abu Darwish Mosque. It's a neat striped black and white dealy. I saw a big set of squares when I was on the other side of the valley, tracked them to where I thought they'd be but could find them so wandered up one of teh twisting roads instead. I asked questions, found the mosque and inevitably found my way back down a set of stairs...the very ones I was looking for before, that started 3 feet to the left of where I had turned right. Oh well.

As an added benefit some little kids whose mum ran a shop half way down the stairs harangued me, gave me a pop and demanded I take their picture. Good times.

So I am now tired, but more pleased about myself because I didn't sit in my room all day and read. I walked...and read outside the British Council building...or thereabouts.

That reminds me! I started my day at an arts centre/gallery/cafe. Built above some Byzantine church ruins, above it sits some old houses, one of which TE Lawrence wrote 7 Pillars of Wisdom in. Very fun. It must have been a fairly solitary writing experience, judging by some pictures of old Amman i was looking at the other day...a new post methinks.

Karak hospitality

Zoe and I were enjoying the Karak evening, noting the distinct lack of tourists about...my guess is they come in via bus for the castle and are gone again quickly. The town was lovely, people playing soccer in the square, a carnival we had noticed earlier springing into action...and tires flying down a hill.

Let me explain. The carnival is on a valley, ie the top end of the valley has been filled in, but at the edge of the fill is a very steep hill that goes down and at the bottom of which there sits a huge pile of tires. Hmmmmm? Until we saw that people must drop off old tires adjacent to the carnival where kids pick them up, roll them to the edge, then race those mothers down.

I was high above watching from Karak and I was deeply satisfied by the karams (sp?) and richochets here there and everywhere. AMAZING.

But this is all a side note, we climbed a tower and when looking at the glorious hills rolling into the distance a guy down below waved, yelled picture and posed in an amusing manner. Sure I figured...he then offered us tea, sure we figured, so we scrambled down the tower and around to meet Ali and Nabid.

Now when I say Karak is on a hill, I really mean it. We are talking STEEP edges and the location we'd been invited down to was that. From Nabid's house to where we sat probably 40 vertical feet, and maybe 10 horizontal...maybe. I don't know ratios, but it was steep. As far as I could tell Nabid and Ali are best buds and have themselves a little goat BBQ every friday night back there. They had some meat left over and it was delicious. Nabid owns a shoe store and Ali I think works there, but is also a kickboxer and wants to go to Canada to work.

Before long various relatives appeared. Nabid's dad, speaking on rich Jews, poor Jordanians, all of us as one people and a strange interest in how much we were paying to travel and the Turkish gold that is supposedly everywhere in Karak (if you have the right "lamp"??? to find it), a bunch of his brothers, a brother in law with his kids, etc etc. We drank delcious mint tea, smoked a bit of nargila and eventually moved things indoors. Had some coffee, some yoghurt drink, Zoe got shiipped off to the women and then hung out some more.

At some point in my convo they asked about our marriage and I slipped up and said we weren't....but soon, I swear. And she was yammering on about this and that (dad you're a farmer now). We've decided to just be engaged from now on. Somehow that should be easier to lie about. Especially since she still doesn't have a ring.

Without getting into all the things we talked about, and all the moments of silence in between, the visit was amazing. A classic "I went to Jordan and they were so hospitable" story.

But, really the whole thing made me uncomfortable after a point. The brother who was a doctor assured me I should contact him if I needed anything while I was in Jordan. The dad had us invited to stay the night pretty soon into the whole affair and everyone was just super kind. When we finally got out of there around 11 (after I'd tried once before, but another round of tea was already on the way) they wanted us to stay for food.

Crazy.

Maybe part of my apprehension stems from the little lies around me and Zoe. Trying to respect their culture makes me lie, but I guess it's inappropriate for me to be touring around with my friend, so we have to tell the tale. And I get all their details etc. and if I come back here I'd love to get in touch again, but then I have to explain what has happened to Zoe. Yarrgh.

Whatever. It was a wonderful experience, that has way too many details for me to recount fully here.

I'll just say Ali is an interesting fellow, big and bearded, a kick bozer or karate guy as mentioned, and the 'moon of karak' according to one of the guys. Undeniable charisma and no english, a fine fellow...but I also got the feeling that whenever they mentioned Ali wants to go to Canada or the US to work, i WAS meant to say "I can help with that". ALas I cannot.

Sweet monkey piss

Let's start with some details and then I can move on to some in depth loving of the world and all its intricacies if I see fit.

First of all, when I last left you the plan was to leave on Thursday, but without much encouragement we changed that to Friday giving one more day to mentally prepare for whatever was ahead. So on Friday we were off an running, or stumbling under weight of packs as the case may be. We hauled our asses to the bis station (the one just for Karak) and snagged two seats. Unfortunately, because our bags were placed on seats of their own we were charged for 4. NO biggy, but they were only there because the guy suggested it. The bus would have been full either way, so he wasn't scamming. I assume he just thought we'd want our bags there. Next time, it's aisle or bust!!!!

Found a place to stay in Karak with a super fellow just outside the castle and after a brief wander we hit up the reason to be in Karak, Karak Castle.

A specimen of Crusader castle technology, this sweety was nailed by Salah-al Din and his boys and was eventually taken over and added on to by the Mamlukes. Lots of fun all around. Tonnes of long galleries and underground tunnels, battlements to climb etc. And the position of both the castle and the town, literally perched atop a hill, is something pretty sweet.

That evening we wandered the town a bit, went to Delicious Meal cafe and wanted shwarma...as seems to happena lot on Friday nights they were out and were packing up, but they had felaffel. That sounded alright. Zoe wanted fries so we ordered some of those too. Somehow that meant felaffel sandwich in a pita and fries...in a pita. Hilarious but delicious, and the combo, with a marinda in a glass bottle made for a wicked photo op.

More wanders and then...and even for another post!

next year

and in case I haven't mentioned it yet...

I found out I'll be based in Rodez France next year, and that should just be lovely. A city just a bit bigger than Owen Sound but way more history and invasions and ROmans and 100 Years War and Popes and Visigoths and big old walls and general good times. So that should be good.

Then if I get invited back to Jordan next year and I want to go, I figure I'll go south through France and hit up Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya and Egypt on my way back here. Then Kristin and I figure catching the train from Moscow to Beijing might be a good time.

We shall see.

Thoughts and goings

So with all the work done, once again I'm about to hit the road. This time with Zoe, my friend who I lived with at school this past year. Should be giggles.

As usual there is a degree of anticipation and nervousness that I always feel when I'm about to embark. Where will I be staying, what will I be eating, etc. And the relaxed life of Shokini hotel apartments has quite pleasant, AC'd afternoon naps are always a good time. There wasn't much time to just sit around and chat with people over the course of the dig. A little too much paperwork and desire to sleep for that, and it would be nice to have a day or two of that, but alas. Such things are not to be.

I've met some good people on this trip, some that I'll keep in touch with more than others, been annoyed by some people, wondered if I was so confusing when I was 18, and generally pondered the existence of humanity. Basically time well spent.

And tomorrow I catch a bus to Karak to see a cool crusader castle then to Amman and after a few days there onto Syria and Turkey. Giggles.

archaeology

Who knows anymore.

Turns out I'm hella wicked with a fas kabir and craig and am able to move about two cubic metres of dirt before second breakfast when I put my mind to it.

I can also rock the show when it comes to baulk drawings. Meh. I really shouldn't brag...or take the time to explain what that entails. Well okay, it's basically measuring everything out carefully and drawing the stratigraphy of all the wonderful
trenches we dug.

I may have found some sort of 2.6m wide compacted earth track and I guess that's something, but mostly I just moved dirt. And worked out...but I managed to eat so much I am now obese. Heh. Well that's a lie, but I did eat a hell of a lot at every meal (good food in abundance = stuffy times), but it gave me the energy to rock the show so I shouldn't complain.

Because I could only get 3 of my 4 baulk drawings done on my last day on site I had to go back two days later on 'back fill day'. This is basically the Bedouin running around in a pack with wheelbarrows and shovels and dumping everything we moved out of holes back in. Basically protect some of the things we found, and make so that any child, goat or vehicle that might come by won't be too seriously damaged or at least has the chance to escape. Thrilling stuff. Also a very interesting day to watch the Bedouin work dynamic.

Many of them I would not call the keenest workers in the world...as great a senetence as that is. But when they're all together and there's a set job (you go home when it's done kind of thing) one would assume a certain certainty in purpose. Instead what you get is them arriving en masse at a specific site that needs to be filled, they then frantically go to work hauling dirt into arbayas (barrows) and dumping it into holes....sometimes along with the arbayas onto fragile mud brick walls. Oops. But that only lasts about 20 minutes, then you see one or two lounging on the dirt pile, then the arbayas slow down, then suddenly everyone is sityting and there is chai all over the place.

Inevitably a cheerful fellow will come up to one of the white folks to confirm that they've done a good job and they are in fact done. They're always shocked when they're not. In this case I think doubly so because all morning they were were with a staff member who is at times more interested in being friends than being a task master. Whatever the case...it was all done eventually.

I was a more than a bit grumpy, given I was working on my reports until late the day before and very tired as a result. Then when things weren't getting done, well being the hero that I am I single handedly moved 456,000 tonnes of earth. Or thereabouts. Whatever. Once the work was done I became less grumpy, hopped on the bus after much handshaking and cheek kissing and was headed back to Aqaba.

Everything archaeological is now done. My report is submitted and hopefully I'll get invited back next year. Don't know if I'll be in the mood then but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.