Palmyra by day

In short Palmyra was pretty cool, the lengthy review follows.

I woke up in the morning, went to buy some batteries for my camera. One thing I discovered about the middle east you have to be very careful what you are buying, quality varies from place to place, brand to brand, no where else was this noticble than in the realm of batteries, often when asking for batteries I would get more or less generic brands, "Panasonic" "Energy" "Super Power" and the like, all of which would provide enough power for maybe a day's worth of camera activity, which despite the cheap cost of the batteries was annoying. In Palmyra they had Duracells, so I stocked up, about 3 times the price, but worth every penny.

After that I headed to the ruins. Almost 2km main street was clear, but surrounding it could be found an assortment of fun stuff. Columns, statues, great big stone balls, it was pretty cool, a few temples dedicated to a variety of Deities were also within an easy walk of the main street, little to no vegetation though. Palmyra was built right next to an Oasis, which was clearly visible from the hills surrounding, but in the ruins itself you wouldn't have been able to tell that anything could live there with so little water, and yet they still do.

I checked out the Theatre, and the massive temple complex dedicated to Bel, the head God from the region. For these two features I was required to pay a total of 250 Syrian Pounds(about 5 bucks), money well spent, as they were both among my highlights of Syria to be sure.
I spent the day wandering around the ruins, exploring, and then I figured it would be a good idea to get a picture of me, something which as a lone traveller is rather uncommon. I set up my shot, and as I was taking it a couple boys came up to me and offered to take my picture. They did, and then they tried to sell me stuff, I claimed I had no money, but the younger one was persistent and wanted to make a sale of postcards. After about 5 minutes he tried a different tact, offering to show me how to wrap my Keffiyeh like a Bedouin(a group of which he was a proud member) and then he wanted to be in a couple pictures with me. Then I slipped, taking a pen out of my pocket I pulled out 100SD, which he immediately claimed should be spent on his postcards. He had been so patient and polite that I couldn't say no.
At that point I decided it was time to head off to check out the burial spires and climb a hill to watch sunset overt the ruins(something which everyone I had talked to about it highly recommended).
However as that involves a lengthy story and some addendum, I shall leave it until next time

Palmyra, the night of two hotels

After parting ways with Sabine in Homs, both the Alex's and I caught a minibus to Palmyra. Upon arrival the driver pointed us in the direct of the city centre and went on his way.
The moment we stepped onto the street it seemed like we were swamped by children. It was about 9 at night and there were a couple dozen kids hanging out on the street with a soccer ball. Out arrival seemed to feed a frenzy of excitement that ended their game. They came over and more or less without words just swarmed around us, occassionally one would ask a question, I would do my best to answer, the Alex's would tell them to go away.
After a bit of walking a guy in a truck came to tell us to stay at his hotel, and that not only would he give us a ride, he would also reduce the price. After two such encounters we gave in, hopped in the back of his truck got our rooms, had some tea and chatted a bit.
I was hungry having not eaten anything but pistachio's(from Aleppo) since that morning, so I went in search of food. Found a shawarma stand and ate my fill, then went in search of more tea. I couldn't find anywhere for tea, but one place the owner instead offered beer.
He gave me the full treatment telling me about all the beers, I eventually settled on Petra Beer 10%, which came with a bartender's warning not to drink more than one otherwise you'll start to see the chick inside the egg, I told him not to worry.
He was a quite interesting fellow. 3 beers later I knew all about his position on geopolitical matters, the War on Terror, Islamic Radicalism, Al Bashar, Israel, Obama, and different types of cigarettes.
Two hours later, I went on my merry way, go to bed to be able to check out the ruins in the morning. When I got back to the hotel, the door was locked. How odd, places usually closed their doors no earlier than 11, I rang the bell, knocked, and figured the owner had just gone out and decided to lock up while he was away.
So I figured I'd come back in a half hour and he'd be back.
In the mean time I decided, hey I've got a half hour, go check out the ruins of Palmyra at night, see what they're like, and they were, majestic I think would be the way to describe them. It was neat wandering around at night, imagining what it would have looked like in it's heyday. And then the dogs began to howl. Not like wolves or Coyotes howling, but a close, angry howl, and barking, and growling. I'm not one to be afraid of dogs, but there seemed to be an aweful lot of them, and nobody who could speak my language well enough for me to rely on if I got in trouble.
So I headed back to my hotel, still locked, I considered climbing in the window in my room that I had left open, but decided against risking the 30 foot drop.
I went in search of a telephone to wake up the owner. I found one in another hotel, which was full of guys playing cards, drinking what amounts to flower tea and smoking. Great guys, said they'd call my hotel to wake up the owner, and served me some tea.
The tea they claimed was bedouin and it was unlike anything I'd ever had, it tasted like flowers, it was wonderful and strange at the same time. Very good, so they gave me more. Same as in Iraq, they played cards counter-clockwise which made it hard to follow their game, but they seemed to be playing a Rummy type game.
After 4 tries to awake my hotel owner, we gave up, and I gave in and got a room with these guys for the night, they gave me a discount because of the circumstances.

It was a night to remember in Palmyra, the next day was pretty good too, I explored the ruins, had a run in with some Bedouin, a pair of kids, and a flock of sheep. But you'll have to wait until next post

Crac des Chevaliers and travel companions

Two sleeps in Lattakia, and in the morning went in search of a bus to Crac des Chevaliers with the two Lithuanian brothers(both named Alex) and the German girl, Sabine.

I tend to travel alone for a wide variety of reasons, mostly because I like to make up my schedule as I go, I don't like having a set plan because you never know what could come up. I can take a detour whenever I want, I can spend more time in a place if I like it, or less time if I don't. I am able to make my journey truly my journey.

However it does come with a few drawbacks, primarily it means I miss out on some opportunities. I took a lot of goodwill from a lot of people in the middle east, but at the same time I turned down lots of rides, offers and more because I really didn't want to be completely at the mercy of a stranger in a strange land that although very safe does have a few trouble spots where the price of making a mistake is very high. When you have a traveling companion the risks associated with getting in a friendly locals car diminish greatly. You also get to share your experience with other people which is nice, rather than just having stories to tell, you have someone to tell them with.
Up to this point I had traveled by myself, but now I was going places with three other people, two of which were rather strange, and one who spoke the local language, but many male members of society would not talk directly to. It was strange.
The Alex's had a tendency to take things too far. Especially when it came to bartering. Well it was mostly just one of them, he would haggle beyond reason, not negotiating, but rather setting a price he deemed to be "cheap" and wouldn't waver. Often times this "cheap" price was far below what was reasonable. The purpose of bartering isn't to destroy the sellers profit margins, but rather make a deal rather than just a sale. It seemed that he saw it only as a way to take as much as he could get from the locals without giving anything back. It extended with the way he talked with the locals. Incredibly demeaning and thoroughly disrespectful of almost every local I saw him interact with(except the Falafel guy in Lattakia who made wicked falafel and watched "Just For Laugh Gags", it was interesting watching him explain the gags as he was making your sandwich).
What got me the most was his willingness to ignore deals that I had made with locals regarding transport, frustrating to the 'enth degree.
Together the Alex's were loud, obnoxious, disrespectful, and on and on. Imagine your stereotypical American travelling, it was them.
Sabine on the other had spoke the local language quite well, and was thoroughly interesting. She had many interesting stories about interactions with locals and men who would refuse to address her in cars and in shops despite being the only person able to bridge the language divide.



Either way we made it to Crac des Chevaliers with about an hour before close, which seemed to be long enough to see most of the cool stuff.
To imagine a Medieval Castle is to imagine Crac. Smooth white stones towers. moats, a keep, chaples, you name it they had it.
Crac was a key point in Crusader defences and was build so strategically well and in such a good spot that it was never taken by force. It was attacked more than once by the Muslims, even Saladin was unable to defeat it.
In the end it succumbed to the harsh reality that Islam was going to win in the region, 200 Knights were holed up in the Castle, provisions for something like 3+ years, but knew that the tens of thousands of Muslims laying seige would eventually win, so they cut a deal, they got a free escape to the coast if they gave up the Castle.
It was amazing, until it rained, which wasn't fun, and made exploring some parts of the castle treacherous.
But alas the sun went down and the castle closed down and the 4 of us started the long walk back to the bottom of the valley and the highway to catch a ride to Homs.

Again the Alex's found a way to kill a good negotiation with a passing car by setting an initial price far too low that would never get us a ride.
In spite of this we did get a minibus all the way to Homs for about a couple dollars. not worth makeing a scene over 25 cents in my mind, the Alex's were a different story.

Now that I've gotten the Alex's out of my system.

Homs turned out to be a rather short stop, to the bus station to catch a bus to Palmyra and it's Roman ruins of high regard. 8 hours on the road that day led to a tired traveler by the end of the day, but arrival in Palmyra didn't go quite as smoothly as I had hoped, and will be the subject of my next post.

Lattakia

Lattakia started out in a rather unfun way. Rain is rarely fun when you want to stay dry, but I also discovered that since leaving Istanbul my shoes had been blessed, by which I mean they were holy. Lots of holes, big ones, small ones, which to be fair did help the water drain out of my shoes, but often let in far more water than they drained. I also encountered the one and only traffic collision that I saw in Syria, it wasn't even all that serious, bumper on bumper, drivers got out yelled at each other, and I carried on. It surprised me, but what surprised me more was that it was the only collision I saw while in Syria.

I did eventually make it to my hotel, where the owner (can you guess what his name was? it started with M and is the most popular name in the world) immediatly made me sit down and brought me tea and shared a tray of veggies and olives that apparently were grown by him and his family.
It was here where I finnally me the first white people since leaving Istanbul, oddly enough the same guys that I saw at the train station in Aleppo. Turns out they had even stayed at the same hotel as me in Aleppo, in the next room, yet we never saw each other. They were Russians from Lithuania living in London who had been on the road for almost 4 months, it was nice to talk to someone almost from my type of world for at least a little. We joined up later when leaving Lattakia, but that comes later.

The owner of the hotel was friendly, almost to a fault, was as described by everyone I met who knew him(a rather well connected guy) as eccentric, and that still fails to describe him. A massive fan of Tintin, has all the books, all the movies, and had decorated the hotel with an assortment of pictures of Tintin and drawings, he was particularly proud of a larger than life Tintin mural on the exterior of the 7th story of the building that he had made. Obsessed, eccentric, friendly, interesting, all of the above.

Lattakia as a city was interesting, the rain stopped for brief moments, but not enough to risk leaving my rain gear at the hotel to explore the city. It had a few nice churches, a couple interesting Mosques, the main Syrian Port. But the most interesting part of the city was the people. Lattakia was the first time that I had seen the skin of a woman other than her face and hands, there were women wearing short dresses(just below the knee), there was a sense of style that was almost trying to emulate Istanbul and the west. And though they tried, the restrictions of the rest of Syrian society seemed to keep the city in check.

Spent most of the day exploring and reading, as I had borrowed a book from the hotel to read, as I had long ago ran out of reading material in english that wasn't telling me about all the wonderful things that Islam could do for me if I were to convert.

I also met the second(well third) white person I encountered on my journey, a pretty German girl by the name of Sabine. Living and studying Arabic in Amman Jordan on a weekend trip to Syria and Lebanon.
Along with her and the two brothers we set out the next day to check out Crac des Chevaliers, a Castle from the era of the Crusades, but that is a story for the next post.

End of Aleppo, Train Station and Kids

The morning was a bit of a rush to pack and get out because I didn't know exactly when the train for Lattakia departed, and I had to stop at a place to get food for the day, find the post office and then find the train. Fortunately I knew where the post office was, it was even the first time that a place I needed to find was on my map, made me happy and food was on the way to the Post Office.

At the post office a man decided to help me out as I seemed to have found my way into the wrong post office, the one for sending out mail was next door(silly me thinking mail services could survive with half the bureaucracy!) Mail off my postcards and went in search of the station.
I had a general idea of where it was, but yet again, my destination was off both maps I had, and both gave contradictory directions on how to get there, one said 750 metres west, the other said 500metres north, both were wrong.

This brings me to an interesting point about the Lonely Planet series of guidebooks, they are good, but have some glaring flaws associated with them, I both experienced it first hand and second hand through discussion with other travellers and hotel owners(some went so far as to dub it the Lonely Liar, but I don't think it was quite that bad). Museums that have shut up show years ago, buildings that don't exist, important transportation hubs that aren't located correctly(in Gaziantep, all the minibus station was so poorly marked that I missed the turn off thinking I had another 4 blocks to go, 4 blocks later a local told me I was 4 blocks too far).
My point is thus, if ever it came down to life or death, I would not trust Lonely Planet, it is a good start, but you need to have a good head on your shoulders to interpret/decide what is important/true and what is not. It's a good start, but it should not be the be all and end all of your trip.

So, between Lonely Planet, and the tourist map being wrong, and 3 locals giving me interestingly unintelligible directions, I meandered my way through the main park, which was quite pretty, had statues, monuments, fountains, green grass, some guy going around selling terrible tea. On the other side of the park, there was a street sign telling people that the Train station was to the east, once again, wrong it was to the west. Eventually after almost 2 hours of searching I found the train station.

Once I got there the silliness had only just begun. I have previously mentioned the incredible layers of bureaucracy, much like an Onion, which also has layers and makes people cry. To buy your ticket you were required to purchase it, then go to the ID check booth, and because I was a foreigner I had to go see security, but was directed to the wrong security, then I got escorted to the right security desk, who looked at my passport+ticket nodded and sent me back to some other desk that I never did figure out what it was for, and then back to the ID desk only for them to simply put a check mark on my ticket. It was infuriating.

It was also at the train station that I saw the first white people on my trip since leaving Istanbul, and later on would get to know the two guys who looked suspiciously like brothers.
I had a bit of a wait in the station so I walked around a bit, explored the surrounding area. One thing in the station however caught my attention, a mural, with burning tanks, and triumphant Syrian soldiers rallying a charge with the Syrian flag proudly flying, the burning tanks had Stars of David on them. Now I may or may not have focused my IR studies upon the Middle East and Israel and it's wars, but I don't recall any war in which Syria, or any other Arab power was triumphant(minor successes, but usually followed up with incompetent decision making and massive errors, see: not bringing a long enough extension cord to plug in your anti-aircraft missiles)
Eventually the train left, and off I went, for those planning on taking the Aleppo-Lattakia train any time soon, let me say, the extra for first class is worth is. My tray table had no lock, and thus kept falling on me. Eventually I jerry rigged it to prevent it falling, and I was able to fall asleep.
When I woke up I was surrounded by about 6 children, all staring at me, something which I had almost gotten used to, and yet this was different, I woke up and there were a bunch of eyes there staring at me. They were fun, did a few fun tricks made something come out of one of their ears, magically make a finger transfer over to the other hand and other simply yet fun things that kids enjoy.
Some got scared off by my desire to interact with them, but one kid kept coming back with questions to ask me(I later discovered that he had a relative near the front of the car who spoke english and was feeding him the tranlations for his questions) Standard questions, where are you from, what do you do, why are you here etc.. but it was different because it wasn't an immigration control officer asking the questions. Because of him, my train journey turned out to be quite fun.

Eventually the train stopped in Lattakia, and off I got, the city on the coast seemed to have been under invasion by the sea, but by air (it was raining, alot, like I haven't seen in a long time, perhaps since Nicaragua). So I put on my rain gear and off I went to find my hotel where I would spend my time in Lattakia.

Aleppo

I shared a cab all the way to Aleppo, with the driver and a guy in the back seat who was suspiciously quiet. But eventually the cab got to the city and found a spot close to my hotel to drop me off.

My first impressions of Syria were twofold: They must love Bashar here(he's the president), and Crossing the street is a deathtrap.
Near my hotel there was a large boulevard park with a statue of Bashar, and one of his father, as well as numerous massive banners down the sides of some buildings with his face on it. His face was on everything, I really wanted to get a "I love Bashar" T-shirts, but low on cash and low on space in my bag I had to resist the temptation. He may not be as bad as Stalin or Saddam for personality cult, but the people genuinely like him. Many of them "adore him", a local in Homs attested, "but it's the people around him who are corrupt and we hate them".

There was an "intersection" near my hotel that I had to cross. First of all it varied between 5 and 10 lanes depending on how impatient drivers were at the time. A map of said intersection can be found here, with the highlighted location being my hotel. I ended up crossing it upwards of 20 times, and by about the fifth time I decided enough was enough and I was just going to pick a local crossing farther up the traffic from me and follow him. Crossing was stressful, having to stop halfway and have to wait in between lanes was worse.

Aleppo is a very old city, is among the oldest in human history, dating back to before we started recording the passing of time. Cities have been built upon cities, it has seen civilizations come and go, withstood sieges, and been conquered. Basically it's seen it all, the current "Old City" dates back to the early-ottoman era. It's not just an Old city on display like many places. The Old city is still lived in, some buildings have their foundations over a thousand years ago, and they are still being lived in. I popped into a couple courtyards to take a peek and they look as if they were taken out of the Crusades, it was pretty cool.

Aleppo also has things called Souqs, basically a market, where everything is traded, you name it someone there either buys it or sells it. Aleppo's Souq was my favorite of all the Middle East, it was massive, authentic, not like a tourist trap like Istanbul's Grand Bazaar. It was a place where everybody did their shopping, did business, it is a part of everyday life.

I entered the main Souq at the butchers area, it gave a whole new meaning to Meat market. And then I got hit in the back of the head by what I suspect was formerly the Leg of a Lamb, delicious to eat, not so delicious to get hit in the head with.

The rest of the Souq was impressively sprawling, branching off in tons of different ways, I feel the best way of taking on Souqs, Bazaars, Markets and other such things is to simply get lost, thus far it has never failed me, in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar I found the Mannequin district and got offered Hash. In Aleppo I found a Medresa with class in session in the courtyard, a Taxi losing it's side mirror trying to get through an arch that was just about big enough, I got held up having to follow a donkey down an narrow alleyway, and I found the Grand Mosque.

The Grand Mosque is almost 1000 years old, and is magnificent, beautiful and thoroughly earning the title "Grand". The courtyard had children running around, playing games, old men sitting in a corned debating the Koran, women scolding children, and pilgrims washing before prayer. I decided to check out the prayer room and stay and watch the 2:24 prayer. It was unlike anything I have seen before(except maybe every other prayer system I have seen, but different), the call for prayer rang out, the study group in the corner packed up, Korans were shelved, and people began to file into the room and line up. They did their prayers and then went on their day.

I had a bit of a conversation with a man who wanted to know where I was from about prayer and how it's a relaxing break to the day. 5 times a day these people took time out of their day for something other than themselves, taking time to reflect, think, and maintain discipline. And almost everyone in the city did it, the streets were noticeably less crowded at prayer time.

After the Mosque I ventured towards the Citadel, but before I could get there a woman stopped me and asked me if I spoke French, I replied in the affirmative, and she called her son over because she wanted him to practice his French, the second time someone asked for a language other than English, second time it was French.
I then got to the Citadel, at this point I stopped caring exactly how old everything was, I did however take note that the mound the Citadel stands upon was man made and was thousands of years old, which was pretty cool.
Because of no sun and the pollution of a city of 5 million the view's weren't all that great but it gave a good view of the Old City from above.
It had a great Amphitheater which incidentally has great acoustics, I could hear almost everything the people on the stage were saying, it was pretty cool.



Another fun thing was that there was only one place that had railing, about 10 metres of it. other than that you could basically wander and climb wherever you wanted on it, right up to the edge, at one point I saw a group of boys climbing trying to climb up the side of it.

At that point security then came by and told me the place was closing, so off I went. I didn't go far, the plaza in front of the Citadel in fact to sit drink tea and write some post cards home while the sun set.

The day was almost over, just enough time to go eat some food, and head to the Baron Hotel for a quick drink, where TE Lawrence(Lawrence of Arabia) stayed while he was in town. Dinner consisted of donair wrap, 50cents, from a stall on the street, more than enough to fill me up.
At the Baron Hotel I got there, and a guy sitting in the corner calls me over, turns out this is the local haunt of the owner of my hotel. So he invited me over, we drank overpriced beer($2.75 for a half litre, highway robbery!) and swapped stories he gave me some places to see in Damascus, Palmyra and Latakia. In the end he had no money, I paid his tab and he cleared my hotel bill, which gave me a nice discount on my stay.
That night I called home for the first time from the hotel, and my mother the person who had been beckoning me to call home since I left wasn't even home.

All in all I really enjoyed Aleppo it was a bit chilly, but manageable, it rained a bit. The Souqs remain a highlight, as does the Grand Mosque. It is a place I defiantly need to get back to, and a place I highly recommend, sooner rather than later.

Into Syria

Schoolwork done now, expect more regular updates for now.

It took a bit of searching because once again the place I was going was just off all the maps of the city, but I did eventually find it, and was immediately whisked onto a minibus and found a stool to sit on as all the seats were taken. The trip wasn't that bad, the scenery was nice, but the windows were too dirty to make a photo worth while.

I got to Kilis(the border town) and started searching for a way to the border, and just like everywhere else the taxi drivers found me. A few found me at the same time, I picked one, and he took my passport and ran off, which worried me, but I was offerd a seat, tea and a cigarette while I waited.
While I waited a guy went by a few times, not walking, or riding a bike or car, but atop a donkey, there are people in the world who's primary means of transportation is still the donkey, in the 21st century. I found that interesting.

Eventually the Cab driver showed up again with my passport, and off we went, drove to the border, where we picked up another guy(again can't cross on foot).

Getting out of Turkey was pretty easy, get an exit stamp(they seem to care an awful lot less who they let out of the country than they let in), go get checked out by the military checkpoint and then off to the Syrian side.

Holy crap, I thought the bureaucracy at the Syrian Consulate in Istanbul was bad, this was worse. There were 3 buildings all of which I needed to enter at least twice at different times.
First into Immigration, who looked at my passport asked me some stern questions, I replied in French and immediately got better treatment(it wasn't room service at the Ritz, but it was better), asked me about my travel plans, where I was leaving from, if I had ever been or planned to go to Occupied Palestine(Israel), it was the first and I expect only time I lied to a government official with the consent of my government.
The immigration officer apparently liked me enough to tell me to go across the street to buy a visa, he could authorize it, but not sell it to me.
So off to the commercial bank where a gaggle of men were busy yelling things at a couple guys behind a counter, I got to cut the line. It took 15 mins to get a visa, and back to the immigration office. Now they had more serious questions for me(actually the same ones as before, just in a more serious tone), and asked more about where I was leaving from, I told them Amman Jordan which was reasonable, he asked why no time for Egypt or "other" places in the Middle East(implying Israel), gotta get back to school you see, that got me through.
But I was not done, I had to go back to the commercial bank to change my money, which was semi-mandatory. The rules say you have to bring a certain amount of cash into the country with you, so they made me change it into local currency.
Off to the Security checkpoint to get patted down and off into Syria.

I stopped in Aleppo where I was staying a couple days, and boy oh boy, Aleppo was cool(temperature wise too, it shocked me) busy city streets, the best souq in the middle east, and a lived in old city.
All things which you can catch up on in my next post
(a picture will be added once blogger isn't incredibly slow)

After a restful couple hours in bed off I went to explore the city of Gaziantep. I soon discovered that this place is full of Baklava. It's everywhere, every shop has some, every baklava shop claims to have the best. I don't know about inner city competition, but every piece of baklava that I had here was better than any baklava I've ever had anywhere else.
They also had lots of Pistachios, I bought 1 kilo for $10 and shelled a bunch for snacks later. Best decision I could have ever made, pistachio`s are amazing and even better when they are that cheap
Simply put Gaziantep was heaven in my mouth, and it was pretty cheap to. While I was exploring the city I discovered a bunch of memorials dedicated to the city of Antep and their resistance against the British and French armies in the aftermath of WW1.

Coles notes of the action that took place here: After WW1 the Ottoman empire was dissolved, and bits and pieces were claimed by different western powers, my understanding was that the French were promised the city of Antep, but British forces were the first to arrive, and had the task of occupying the city until the french arrived.
The citizens of Antep didn't like this so fought back, they had no real weapons, army, supplies, or any hope of victory, but they fought on, but lost to both the English and then the French. No victory in sight, but they fought on.
At the same time that this was happening Ataturk was busy trying to put together a functional Turkish state. In this he eventually succeeded, but not after much trials and tribulations. However Antep was the first prominent city to openly fight against occupation, fighting for a Turkey for Turks.
Interestingly enough Kurds also fought for Ataturk for a free Turkey, turns out it was a Turkey for the Turks, anyone else doesn't exists, and if they do we don't want them. Oh well.
Antep was then granted the honour of "War Hero" which relates to the Gazi at the beginning of their name, thus Gaziantep. Most people still seemed to call it Antep, but both seemed to work when asking where it was.

In the centre of the city there was a massive Castle, originally Byzantine, but occupied and remodelled by the Ottomans a bunch of times. Not much of the castle was open, just one hallway which contained a museum of the fight against the British and French forces. There were many interesting memorials all around the castle and around town as well.

Unfortunatly that was all Gaziantep had to offer, it was rainy the whole time(except 30 mins while I was on the minibus leaving the city). Fortunately this place was more of a transit point to Syria for me than an actual stop.

The next day I went in search of the mini-bus station to the Syrian Border but that`s a tale for next time

Cizre to Antep

Mahmoud was from Cizre and thus had lots of relatives nearby, once we arrived at the Cizre Autogar we immediately were whisked away to a restaurant owned by his cousins. Discussing politics local and global, religion, power outages, car bombings outside his office in Baghdad and how awesome the tea is in the Middle East.
I tried to pay for my portion of the meal, he refused,
After the meal he showed me around town, it was dark so I didn't actually see much, but he did take me to Noah's tomb. Yes, the guy with the ark, which incidentally landed on a mountain within sight of the town but as it was dark and raining we couldn't see it.
I found this connection with not only religious books, but connection to the beginnings of permanent settlement and the beginning of civilization. Cizre is the origin of Mesopotamia, it has basically been around forever, and given that they can lay claim to be the spot where Noah landed, and that nobody cares enough to contest it, I think it's a pretty credible claim to be one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth.
Anyhow after seeing Noah's tomb, his mosque and a few other tidbits around the town I went back to the Autogar to wait, and Mahmoud went to visit more family.

I read, wrote in my journal and copied some addresses down for postcards and finding hotels, basically housekeeping. Got offered tea a half dozen times, and eventually went to find a place to pee. When I came back I went to buy a chocolate bar, and as I was exiting the store I got stopped by a few people my age. They wanted to know where I was from, what I was doing, and so on.
Just like so many other Kurds these guys were really friendly, genuinely curious about Canada and me. They were also really keen on telling me as much about Kurdish Turkey as possible, telling me about their schools and governments, about the mosques in the area. All this conversation made use of my phrasebook and English-Turkish dictionary, they would say some things, if I didn't know what a word or two was we'd look it up, and vice versa.
At this point came the offers of Tea and a cigarette, which I obliged them and we sat down for a bit, and one of the guys runs off for a bit, when he came back he had what appeared to be a rather large hand-rolled cigarette, they offered me some, I asked what it was. They said, "good stuff", again I asked what it was, they said "good stuff" and made some sounds and made actions for someone being high, I asked if it was Hash and they immediately perked up, saying lots of things at me that I didn't understand to describe Hash, they offered and much like cigarettes and tea, when offered pretty much anything of this nature, you must accept, so I took a few puffs and let them share the most of it.

We eventually got to a point the conversation where they didn't know a word, they implied it was a negative aspect of Kurdish Turkey, and eventually found a surrogate phrase: In Turkey, Kurds have no Civil Rights.
That sort of hit me, these guys, all Kurds as a matter of fact, so friendly, welcome, sharing and on and on, and yet, the world still hates them. Wherever they go in a land they've lived in for thousands of years they are hated, I can't imagine what it must be like to live there your whole life. Not just in poverty, but in a state where your own government disagrees over your existence.

Alas the bus eventually came and Mahmoud and I entered the bus to Gaziantep. He and I chatted a while about lots more stuff, and I think I may have made an impression on him on handguns and the sole reason they exist is to hunt people.

Our trip was frequently stopped by military checkpoints, which usually consisted of a military guy getting on the bus collecting all IDs (except mine, evidently the PKK doesn't travel on a Canadian Passport) taking them off the bus coming back and then send us on our way. A few times however they came back on and ordered certain people off the bus, they usually got back on the bus pretty quick, although one stop lasted half and hour. Other times they came on the bus and told us our baggage was being looked through. One time they had a bunch of questions for me about my travels, but far less intense than any Customs screening so I wasn't worried.
All in all there were more military checkpoints on this 9 hour trip than 4 days in Iraq.
At about 2am the bus stopped for a break at a rest stop, but me being someone who doesn't like paying to use a toilet that requires payment, especially just to pee, I went off to find somewhere around a corner to pee for free. This plan backfired when jumping down a wall and around the corner I got chased by dogs, it was frightening, but I made it back up the wall before the dogs got to me.
Not learning my lesson I immediately went off in the opposite direction for the same purpose, this time however turning down an allyway and almost stepping on a sleeping dog, who although was chained up, did not appreciate being woken up, he was angry with me. Just puts truth to the phrase let a sleeping dog lie.

Back on the bus for another 2 hours until 4am when the bus stopped in Gaziantep. Where I hopped in a cab that took me and 2 others to the downtown. So 4am in Turkey is not the best time to be trying to find your hotel, and as it turns out I never did find the hotel I was looking for. Eventually after wandering around for almost and hour I did in fact find a hotel that was open, it was a bit fancier than I was initially looking for and a bit pricier, but nothing beats a hotel that is open, warm running water and a sit down toilet.
Never underestimate the worth of warm running water and a sit down toilet, never.

Leaving Iraq and Borders

In the morning I went to the market to purchase my now infamous black and white keffiyeh then went to meet Vamen in his shop.
Both Vamen and Mohammed came with me to the border in a Taxi. They shut the shop and off we went, naturally we first stopped to pick up provisions at Mohammed's house, was informed that he had 3 kids and another one on the way, he was very proud.
Didn't take too long to get to the border, we swapped passport related stories, and stopped to get some "sand"(more like dust) to take back home from Iraq.
At the border Vamen helped me find a cross border taxi and get through immigration control, it was more of a process than getting in, partially because my friends this time weren't as familiar with the border system.


It more or less consisted of getting my passport photocopied, and handing it over to the immigration officer and waiting and guessing which window to go to next.
At that point we said our final goodbyes and off I went into the taxi which would take me across the border to Silope.
I shared the cab with the driver, a Turkish born Californian working in Baghdad(he turned out to be quite helpful), and two guys(who turned out to be rather interesting). They all went into the Duty free and came back with stuff 20 mins later, I hung out wrote my journal and watched people.

Border crossings are rather interesting places. They are the places where countries, cultures, governments and commerce all comes together. They are a place of business, they are a place of plight. Near most of the borders(except Israel) had lots of poor areas nearby, not sure why, but it seemed connected to the border crossing.
Questions are asked, answered, taxes paid, real security measures. All in all they are quite exciting, and a wonderful place to people watch. Or at the very least figure out who's undercover security, and their patrol patterns(don't tell Israel I did this).

After Immigration and Duty free we were off, to get in line to cross the bridge to get to the first Turkish Checkpoint. This bridge was narrow, two lanes(sometimes three), semi trucks on one side, cars on the other, and whoever was able to convince the Duty Officer they needed to jump the line going down the middle.
I was the only white guy around so the Californian, Mahmood, told me that the cab driver wanted to tell the border officials that I was a journalist doing a story on border crossings, then I was a travel editor for the Toronto Star, we went through about 4 different stories/lies and because of it we jumped 3 of the 4 lines that we had to wait in.

The first thing I did in Iraq was take a pee, the last thing I did in Iraq I took a pee, off the bridge, it was a good call, even with all the line cutting it still took 3 hours to get across the border. It was a long process that involved a pat down, X-Raying the spare tire, and inspecting the vehicle, but we eventually made it past the security checkpoints. Then on to customs.

At that moment I learned what the other two men did for a living, they were cigarette smugglers. I love cigarette smugglers, they are fun to watch, interesting to chat with, and extremely nervous.
The moment the army told us we could move along the smokes started getting put everywhere, spare tire compartment, under the trunk flooring, in the side panelling, under seats, in seats, in jackets, and under the dashboard. You name it, they put cigarettes there.
Customs started with little hope of a quick transit, the car in front had all their luggage out, inspectors more or less gutting the car. Fortunately one of the guys from the car had multiple bags, all filled to the brim with cookies, hundreds of packages of cookies. We bought some for the wait, which was a while.
Then it was our turn, we gave our passports over the 4 other passports were stamped without question, mine on the other had got rejected without question. That was not good. I needed to get back into Turkey, it wasn't an option, they were going to let me in, besides I already had an entry stamp to the country, and had only been Iraq for 4 days.
So we went to the Customs Duty Officer, he also rejected it, and instructed us to go to the passport office, and again first guy rejected it, but directed us to wait for his supervisor, who would have been a rather pretty Turkish girl if not for the stern look on her face, she looked like she could eat your face in one bite, not the kind of person you want to cross.
10 minutes of waiting led to me getting told to take better care of my passport(kind of looks like it's gone through the laundry) but they would let me in.

Off we went to Silope where Mahmood and I hopped in another cab to Cizre where we would both be catching the same Bus to the west.

Iraq was over, it was a fun time, but alas all good things must come to an end, Later on I will make a post with reflections on Iraq, and more observations that didn't make it into the posts on Iraq already.

Turkey once again lay before me, Gaziantep was to be the next stop, and my staging point for my journey into Syria. , with the experience of Iraq behind me I looked forward to the adventures which were to come.

More Iraq

Sorry for the delay, changing my OS to windows7 put this blog lower on my computer related todo list.


The next morning I met Vamen at his shop and waited for Mohammed who was going to take me on a tour of the city in his truck. Before we went for the tour we went for breakfast. Which was similar to all other meals, consisted of far too many appetizers some salty meat soup, some pita bread, then more vegetables. It felt more like what I you would expect for lunch in Canada.
After finishing our meal off we went around the city. They showed me a number of sites around the city. Went back to see the dam, but this time at the bottom rather than top, we went to see the court buildings, but they were closed. We went to a couple other cool places and the off to the University of Dohuk.

The U impressed me. 6 years ago this place was living under a central government that unlike Turkey recognized them, but had tried to eradicate them on multiple occations. This U expanded 10 fold in 6 years, impressive to say the least. We went into the fine arts building and met Vamens sister, pretty little thing taking drama to become an actress, we went to the cafeteria and had something to drink. I met a whole slew of people, although there were fewer people gawking at me, there were more who had the guts to come up and say hi. I posed for a dozen or so pictures with people who wanted their picture with me. It was alot of fun.

After that we went back to the shop, and I walked around the market looking for a Keffiyeh while Vamen worked. We met up later to go check out the lookout spot.
It was dark by this point and we stopped a couple places to pick up the rest of Vamen's friends, and some food and beer.
Off we went, and they hadn't lied, the lookout gave an amazing view of the city, imagine any stereotypical lookout from any movie or TV show, up the beauty by throwing in a sunset, and put it in Iraq where you have to go through a passport check to get there and thats it. Also alot of garbage, I'm sure i've mentioned it before, but everybody just tosses their garbage where ever they are at the time.

We ate we drank we swapped stories, they asked alot about Canada, and I naturally obliged them, told them about health care, the stampede, scantily clad girls and a bunch of other stereotypical Canadian things that set us apart from the Americans.
It was pretty cool, but they had plans to we had to move.
Off we went back down the hill and off to a secluded piece of highway, halfway between two military outposts, because apparently they don't like gunfire close to them, they also don't like automatic gun fire which arouses suspicion, but handgun fire doesn't.

So we pull to the side of the road, we all get out, set up a couple cans to shoot at and away we go. I ended up not firing all that much, 3 times, but by the last shot I hit the target which was pretty exciting. A glock and a Soviet era Chezh gun.
These guys live in a place where carrying guns around is expected, because there is a legitimate threat. I said to them, the only reaso you have a hand gun is to shoot people, they agreed, they knew why they had their guns, one of them had even killed a man(on the order of a judge). This was a part of life, War exists 15mins away from where these guys live. Apparently the big bomb blasts can be heard from Mosul. For these guys it was real. I was just visiting, but these guys live it.

The next day consisted of travel out of Iraq and to my staging point for entry to Syria, although travel sounds boring, this is the Middle East, and the Mid East finds a way to make everything memorable

The 4 Kurdish Amigos

So went to dinner with Vamen and the manager of the shop, who was this small eccentric guy full of energy and questions. Interesting thing was that they didn't know how to eat with a knife and fork, just not something they do, it was strange that they asked me, but I was happy to oblige and teach them.
After dinner, we went to the previously mentioned Hookah lounge where we met some American soldiers that Vamen had worked with in the Army, they seemed like nice enough guys, but I could see them being the stereotypical soldier in Baghdad, full of testosterone, macho, with guns in their hands. We didn't chat for long. We played Backgammon and smoked until Vamens friends showed up.
Just as we were leaving a guy asked me to take his picture, I obliged, and he did a crazy strange dance and struck a pose. Everyone around me laughed, turns out he was the local crazy guy.

Vamens friends pulled up, in a Police truck, I got in back and away we went. I got introduced to Vamen's friends, Mohamed who works at a car parts shop, Jiad, who works in construction and is son of the SWAT leader, and Rayzan who was studying to become a military officer. All were pretty cool guys, all were so interested in Canada, and were extremely accommodating when it came to translating our conversations.

We got to the bar, which consisted of a bunch of rooms on the top of a building, so that the patrons would be unable to see each other. In such a staunchly Muslim country 15 mins from the Warzone of Iraq, this seemed like a resonable idea.
We sat down and then the closeness of violence jumped out at me.
Jiad sat down and pulled out his handgun. As if it were nothing, as if he had been carrying it around all day and it was finally safe to put it down.
Me being a Canadian and being culturally petrified by handguns had to make a comment. I told them all about guns and how they were viewed in Canada.
They were impressed with Canada and how safe it was, needing a gun is somewhat of a given for many people.
They then told me that we were going to go shooting tomorrow night, and that maybe Jiad would bring out his AK47 or maybe even one of his Dads RPGs.
The whole time at the bar was basically awesome, a bit of an eye opener in terms of immersion in the culture, and Kurdish people.
The 4 friends were amazing, they went to great lengths to ensure that I was able to get as much out of my trip in Kurdistan as I could.
For the rest of the night we played cards, they taught me some car game similar to Rummy I taught them blackjack and poker. It was strange, playing cards in the middle east you go counter clockwise, which threw me off a bit, but made sense in a strange way.
At the end of the night we agreed to meet tomorrow and they would show me the lookout point over the city.

I present you: Iraq

Iraq is going to take longer to go through because of the sheer quantity of awesome stuff, so expect a number of posts on Iraq, I'll reflect on the War zone, Alcohol in a Muslim state, the Kurds, Being the only white guy and more, so stay tuned.

So in Iraq both Iraqi Dinars and American Dollars were fairly interchangeable, even on the street. This was unfortunate given the scarcity of both currencies in my possession, is short I was broke.


I had paid for my cab in Dollars and received 10000 Dinars in return. This left me with a dilemma, I was left with 10000ID, which turned out to be just enough for an incredibly filling meal, I literally got a pile of lamb and pita on my plate, and the table to filled with appetizers. It was amazing, I had way too much food, but it was worth every penny. However it then left me with no spendable currency, which as I said was a problem.


The next morning I went in search of an ATM, not an easy task when in Iraq, a place where a 20min drive takes you to Al Queda Central in Mosul. I did in fact fine 2 ATMs and 1 bank with a master-card machine, all of which were broken, which sucked.
I then went to change my remaining Euro into ID to ensure I had some sort of money. However in my wanderings up and down the main street, I got stopped by someone who spoke English.
Vamen was a former Translator for the US army, and in his own words, he "hunted terrorists" He helped me find an ATM, which was excellent. However it went further than that, he became my host.
He took me to see some cool places around town, including a 200BC Kurdish archaeological site, the Dohuk Dam, and their Waterfall, which admittedly looked more like a drainage pipe for the dam.

The whole situation was pretty cool, I went from having no money and no idea what I was doing, to having plenty of money, but not being able to use it, and having a new friend who was taking care of me.

While walking through town Vamen and I chatted about lots of things, including the War, development, poverty, cell phones, school, and Canada. I had lots of questions about Iraq, he had lots of answers. We hit it off nearly instantly.
Vamen worked in a cell phone shop as a cell phone repair guy. So we went back to his shop and he introduced me to what seemed to be the entire market.

Being the only white guy in a city of 1.5million makes you something of a talking point. At times I felt like a celebrity, walking down the street, every head turning to watch me, cars honking at me, at one point an entire school yard full of children was pushed up against a fence to watch me eat some beans. It was odd at times but was neat.
At one point even one of Vamens friends pointed out that his sister had told him all about the White guy who had been at the University that day. I had been at the university that day. I was a celebrity, people taking my picture, I even got asked for an autograph at one point.
Later I met a couple American solders who were taking some R&R away from Baghdad, that ruined the whole "only white guy in the city", but I then changed it to me being the entire tourist industry.

After the shop we went to a place with hookah and baklava, and waited for Vamen's friends to show up to go to the bar.

I will leave you there, because the Bar was pretty epic, it involved a police car, Guns, Beer, a phone call to Calgary, lots of laughs and more

The most terrifying thing about Iraq

It's not the border crossing, not the constant military presence, nor the War Zone that existed 15 minutes drive from where I was, the most terrifying thing about Iraq was the drive to the border from Turkey.
Getting to Cizre was easy, I got up and found the minibus station, 2 minutes into my search, I got intercepted by a guy who wanted to know where I was from, he then took me to the minibus that would take me to the border and helped me buy my ticket. People are incredibly friendly here. Then I waited for the bus, and got chatting with a guy from Silope(the border town) on his way back from studying medicine in Azerbaijan. He was an interesting fellow, interested in Canada, and eager to practice his english with me.
The bus itself went through some cool looking places, but the best was the edge of the mountains in Mardin province. It was interesting to see a city built on the side of mountains rather than in the valleys. It was about 6pm by the time the bus stopped in Cizre. Where my new friend from the bus introduced me to his cousin who ran a taxi service across the border into Iraq and he would love to give me a good deal.
So off I went with this new guy, who all I knew about him was that his name was Salmon, he drive a Taxi across the border and he didn't speak a word of english and had rather poor Turkish. However his cousin vouched for him so I figured I'd get there fine. It started out well, he offered me a Cigarette asked were I was from, my name, and my passport, all things I expected. Then we stopped on the outskirts of the city and he got out and started speaking to a guy sitting outside of a small building looking in rather poor repair.

A note about the deep South East of Turkey, land of the Kurds, they run the show, the kids don't learn Turkish, everyone speaks Kurdish instead, there was massive military presence, the area seemed heavily guarded with guard posts and military checkpoints aplenty. Not all of this is attributable to Syria next door.
Much of this region looked like in could use a coat of paint, lotso of rubble, lots of poor areas, all things which I would attribute to being an unwanted people in a region which for 20 of the last 25 years was in a constant state of civil war. These people came out on the loosing side. The Kurds are a people plagued by strive, wherever they go in the land they have lived in since the Golden Age of Greece they now remain unwanted.
The physical place was kind of depressing, but the people were remarkably resilient. They went about their daily business, enjoying life, living each day as one to be enjoyed. These were a people who know how to live no matter what life has dealt you. It was an experience and a half.

Back the taxi, this place turned out to be owned by Salmons cousin(or rando guy who needed a ride) who had access to 2L water bottles full of gasoline, which seemed to be in exchange for a ride a bit out of town. Once this passenger left Salmon lit another cigarette, and started texting someone, hardly looking at the road, which had potholes like a golf ball has dimples. Then the back driver side door popped open, going 100km/h. This prompts Salmon to look at me laugh, say a bunch of words that seemed rather vulgar turns around, and without stopping any of his previous activities turned around and closed it. "Oh, my!" is what I said to him, he nodded and we continued.
2mins later he reaches over into the glove compartment and takes out a laser pointer. Shows me a some cool things he could do with it, make it project pictures, or look like a disco ball. Then he starts pointing it to people on the street. He claimed it was military grade and shot 4km. That frightened me, because after informing me of this he aimed it at the police checkpoint we drove past,then he started aiming it at military outposts, then oncoming traffic, laughing the whole time.
Then we started to come upon traffic, so we cross the ditch and start driving down the wrong side of the divided highway shooting the laser into the eyes of oncoming traffic and trucks stopped on the right side of the highway.
We picked up another guy looking to cross the border, who eagerly joined in with the laser pointer fun. This continued until we made it to the border, which was a fairly simply procedure, car stops, passports are handed over they get handed back we procede to the Turkish military checkpoint, we get out, they check the car for guns, bombs and the like, wave us through then customs who asked who the white guy was, stamped our passports and let us through. Then we crossed the bridge into Iraq, stopped got out and got shuffled into and office where they took my temperature asked me if I was sick or if I had h1n1, I said no, they let me out, I walked across the street, got given a coffee and asked the standard questions, then they asked where I was going. They told me not stray from those places, and emphasized with actions, sound effects and serious looks on their faces "Mosul, Kirkut, Baghdad, no go, they kill you". I followed their advice, I don't think I'd be too fond of car bombings.

The first thing I did when I entered Iraq was have a pee, 10 hours after leaving my hotel in Diyarbakir, 4 litres of water and tea, I had not ever stopped long enough to go pee, and darned if I wanted to test how long a bus would wait for me without being able to ask how long it would wait.

All in all, it was a fantastic learning experience which would help me with all my other border crossings on my journey.
I hopped in a Cab and for 20$US I got taken right to my hotel ~65KM away in Dohuk.

The Train, and encounters in Kurdish Turkey

Needless to say the train was boring. The fold down beds stopped being interesting after about hour, I ran out of books and Magazines after about 12 hours, and nobody anywhere near me on the train spoke English or a version of Turkish which I could understand, and it was dark for 20 out of 34 hours.
All in all though, I would rather take it than bus for a journey of that length, at least I got a bed, a sink, a toilet and privacy, for about the same price.
34 hours on the train took me to an 8am arrival in Diyarbakir. I walked into the City Centre and was greeted by 20 metre high Black Basalt Walls of Byzantine origin.
Diyarbakir is considered to be the Capital of Kurdish culture in the region, and had an assortment of Byzantine, Islamic and Turkish history, all wrapped in a Kurdish setting.
I couldn't check into my hotel so I left my bag and went to explore the city, the Archaeological museum was closed, and apparently no longer exists in that location(thanks Lonely Planet). I then meandered back towards the main mosque, missed it but ended up on the 2nd largest complete wall in the world, which encircles the old city.
20 metres high, no railings, muddy/slippery footing in some areas, and public access you would think it would be at least monitored(apparently there are lots of muggings on the wall too). But no, so I walked all over the place, inside towers, to the top of parapets.
I then tried to see if I could see the Main Mosque so as not to miss it. As I was reading some plaques about the Mosque a guy who spoke French started giving me a tour. He toured me all around the old city, the Mosque and it's Medresa, a couple traditional homes and the home of a local famous poet. Turns out he was the former head of tourism for the region. He then led me to his friends Carpet shop for tea. Which inevitable led to carpets being laid out for me to look at.
It's incredibly hard to say no to such amazing carpets. I ended up buying a Kurdish Kilm, for 1/5 of the price I saw a similar one in Istanbul.
I then went down the valley to the Tigris River to get some sand. 2km down, 2km back up the hill, somebody could have told me there was no sand in the river. It did give me my first encounter with the poor of the region, walking down a road to the river the entire street stopped, the soccer game right down to the mothers preparing dinner, they all stopped to watch me.

The Resit(the tour guide) and I ended up going to the University for dinner, where I had some "traditional Kurdish food". It was pretty good, he introduced me to a few heads of department there and had a lengthy chat with the head of Architecture. It was a shame Resit ruined it by trying to sell me a tour I couldn't afford(in time or money), I said no a number of times, then he got depressed, which got me to thinking what kind of formerly prestigious tour guide needs to go to such lengths to get a client? He was kind of strange.

My introduction to the Kurds was fantastic despite the one hiccup. I made plans to take the bus to the Iraqi border in the morning, and I was going to need my sleep for such a grand adventure.

Istanbul Part 3

Istanbul giving New York a run for it's money since whenever this Big Apple was built

Now onto my post.
Ok so I lied, after Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque I went for a Hammam (Turkish Bath). Now for those who have experienced the joys of the Hammam you know what I am talking about when I say it is amazing. I'm sure I've never been so clean in my life. Hot room, scrubbers, and not having to do anything. Although strange Turkish men and the language barrier made things awkward at times, it was still amazing.

So the next day I decided to make one final attempt to get a Syrian Visa the way they want people to get them. So I turned up 10:30(I had planned on getting there earlier, but got lost after I took what I thought should have been a "Short Cut", I was wrong) and when I go there they said that they had closed for the day. It wasn't friday, it wasn't a holiday, they had just closed, made no sense, and made me mad, mostly at Syrian Bureaucracy(lots of more that to come).
So I headed to the Grand Bazaar. Basically a great big market, but with everything and covering a massive area. It's so big in fact that it has its own districts, Gold, Jewlery, Carpets, antiques, trinkets, food, and thats just the coverd part. In the uncovered section I discovered the Knife district, Guns, pants, sunglasses, clothes hangars, mannequin and shoe districts.

Overwhelming cannot being to describe how one feels wandering around the Bazaar, shopkeepers yelling at you to buy their stuff, backgammon being played, tea being served, business being had. The strangest moment was as I had stopped to watch two old men play backgammon, another younger guy was there watching and started conversing with me, berated me for not speaking turkish, when I explained that I had only just gotten into the country he said he understood, and pulled a baggie out of his pocket and told me he had great Hash and offered me some for 100 Euro, needless to say I declined him, partially becuase the amount of Hash offered wasn't worth anywhere near 100 Euro, but mostly because I didn't want any, especially in the middle of an incredibly busy street with cops around. If anything I'll say the guy had balls.
I did however make some purchases in the Grand Bazaar, I bought some pants(which I don't actually like) A mini Backgammon board, and a bunch of trinkets. mostly good deals except for the pants, oh well.

That night went and smoked Hookah with a bunch of Debaters from all around Canada, Calgarians, Torontonians, Easterners, all in all it was a pretty good night. Ended with McDonalds(a shame I know, but it was the only place open at 2am). This was the last time I saw any Canadians until Petra almost a month later.
At about 4am I woke up with incredible pains inside me, the McDonalds had struck. I like to think of it as Karma kicking me upside the head for degrading myself to eat McDonalds when I am in the middle of one of the greatest cheap food places in the world.

I survived the night, and made my way to the train station, which was on the Asian side of Istanbul. Asian Istanbul was an excellent place to go see. It was less touristy, the market I wandered through was far less of a tourist trap than the Grand Bazaar, it was more of a place for real people to do their shopping.
I had a fish sandwich, which consisted of a small loaf of bread with a whole fish inside. Needless to say it was the fishiest meal of my life and lived with me in my burps for the next few days. At the time of purchase, it was a great deal, I got a good meal for 1 Lira, but the more I ate the worse it got.
I then bought my ticket to Diyarbakir, and found a place to smoke hookah and read until my train left.

Next time Kurdish Turkey

Istanbul Part 2

The next day I decided to head out to the Syrian consulate earlier than the day before to allow myself some time to go see the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia.
I located the Syrian consulate was much easier to find this time, and I got there around 10am(they issued visas from 9-11am) to get my Visa, I figured I have my form filled out, I have my letter of recommendation, I though it would be a breeze, and indeed my time at the consulate was short, I arrived to discover that they had "already issued all their Visas for the day". That ticked me off, and at the time looked set to ruin my whole day.
But it didn't, I decided to make the best of it and headed on down to the Blue Mosque. From the way people pumped this place up it should have been akin to one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, and I admit, the exterior was amazing, the colour, construction, it was stunning, especially at sunset. The interior was in fact quite exquisite, but I couldn't help feel uninspired, and underwhelmed. Yes it was pretty, but all the artwork seemed the same, and very similar to what I've seen in many other places Islamic and otherwise. I might have gotten a different feel for it if I had stayed for a prayer, but I decided to head to Hagia Sofia.
Hagia Sofia originally the most magnificent Cathedral in all of Christendom, converted into a Mosque in the 1200s, and now a museum, is a mixture of Muslim and Christian ideas and art, a place where Emperors were crowned and Sultans said prayers in hidden rooms. This place had culture, history, art, and Grandeur. The Christian Mosaics had been plastered over by the Muslims, who despite disagreeing with the centre of devotion could not ignore the sheer beauty of the art so they took notes before covering it up for the better part of a millennium. Some of them had been uncovred, but the majority were still plastered over.
Now along with the beauty of the art, the place was massive, imagine almost a full football field indoors, built in the year 600. This place not only was huge but it also seemed like the dome was just hovering there, the architecture was monumental in every sense of the word.
I then spent the night wandering around a few markets close by the hostel and then went to have some hookah with a bunch of people including some nice girls from Boston one who was something like a the 2nd cut away from making the US womens Hockey team for the Turin Olympics.

Cats, cats were everywhere in Istanbul, actually all over the Middle East, but it was a particular problem in Istanbul. They weren't afraid of people, because lets face it people were keeping them alive. At one point sitting in front of the Blue Mosque on a bench a Cat literally jumped onto my lap from behind me(I know the physics doesn't make sense, but thats what I wrote in my journal). Normally I love Cats, I like when they pretend to stalk you and then you jump at them, I like when they purr, but when there are this many Cats, I think there is a problem. and that's my piece on Cats.

Tomorrow Final Days and Hours of Istanbul before heading to the Deep South East and Iraq

Istanbul

So this is about where I started keeping any kind of journal, my entry for Istanbul merely outlines directions to the Syrian Consulate and some of the stuff I saw there, mostly designed to poke my memories to life again.

After worlds hung out at the Airport for a while, bought a plane ticket and then ran into a whole host of debate related folk, including the CA team, who were pleasant as usual(Right Siobhan). There were 4 flights from Ankara to Istanbul that night, if one had gone down, right there you lose close to a quarter of Worlds, thought that was interesting.

Once in Istanbul took the train to the Blue Mosque are(Sultanamhet) and met Mike who informed me that the cheap hostel was full, so I stayed at the one with more people I knew at it.

My first day in Istanbul consisted mostly of trying to locate the Syrian Consulate. I had a map, I actually had 3 maps, only 1 of which had the consulate on it, and none of which had the area in question on in in any detail. So off I went in search of the consulate, on my way I found the Hilton Hotel, the Military Museum(which was closed, and they had guns pointed at me when I asked for directions, they didn't know where the consulate was). I then found a Movie Theatre, and a whole assortment of monuments and parks dedicated to Atatürk(I will touch on him in a later post), all in all it took me almost 4 hours from leaving my hostel until I found the Consulate, when I got there they told me the Visa office was closed, and that even if it wasn't I would need a Letter of Recommendation from my government. That was frustrating.
But I knew where the Canadian Consulate was and it was easy enough to find, and I got to ride on a scary little trolley that looked and felt like it would fall apart imminently(pictured above). It was seriously scary, also I discovered that Turks are all deaf, we followed 2 minutes behind one lady who only got out of the way when we hit her.
A letter of recommendation from your government, which says that they passport number in the passport you have is in fact you. They confirm this by asking you if this is your passport, then write the letter. It took 5 mins, and cost $50, have I mentioned how much I hate bureaucracy to you before? This will become a theme for my time in Istanbul.
I ended the day by buying a Middle East guide book to replace the one I left at home and walking around some markets. Day ended with sunset over the Blue Mosque. I think I went to dinner with Julia and some guy from Ottawa starting a round the world trip, then a place with Sheesha and backgammon with Kristen, Sabrina and Michelle.

Worlds part deux

Ok, so the first few days of worlds was pretty good, but the latter days were arguably more fun.
First and foremost I discovered the Sauna and not being sick anymore.

Before I get into after new years, I missed an incredibly fun night from my last post, Global Night, anyone who was there can attest, more than a dozen tables hosted by people from around the world sharing their national alcoholic drinks. Needless to say this was a night that I banked a few drinks for my average. My favorite table was the Austrian table, not because it was particularly good, but because I got to show off and impress a bunch of people. They were busy lighting their shots on fire, then putting them out by putting their hand on the glass. I decided to one up them, sticking my finger in the on fire drink, lighting my finger on fire, then putting it in my mouth to put it out. I won, except for the one time that my finger didn't go out, it stayed lit far too long, and I ended up burning my finger, quite badly as a matter of fact. oh well, it's mostly healed now, fun times.

I spent New Years Day mostly getting better, recovering from my fever, and getting back on track to 13 drinks/day and prepping for the Public Speech final. It was a fairly laid back day that led to good for recovery.
I would like to thank Gareth for giving me the topic for my public speech, for in a break from him lamenting over his lost cell phone we got to talking about how ridiculously polite Canada is and how no one would ever invade us. Needless to say, I was massively short on topic, so this had to do. The speech went well, but didn't come close to winning, although another Canadian won. I still think the guy who talked about the Rainbow was entertaining, even if his links to the colours were stretching reason.
That night Dylan, Mike, Robbie and I decided it would be a good idea to go for a swim.
Now, the day had been quite windy, the seas were really rough,
But we didn't care, our chests did bare, for we were really tough.

In short it was awesome, Mike kept saying that he almost died, maybe thats true for him, I didn't nearly die. Yes it was rough, yes it was raining, and yes it was very dark, but I can swim, and know how to get out of trouble when currents start pushing you around.
I believe I spent the rest of the day playing backgammon and drinking, all in all a very good day, almost made up for missing New Years(but didn't :( )

The next day I watched Dan and Josh in their Octo-Final,(incidently one of the Australians who I too the bus with from Antalya was also in the round, and didn't perform particularly well) and then I believe I spent the rest of the day in the sauna and pool, alternating back and forth.
I think this was the night that we went to the club where there was the gangland shooting outside(I don't remember if there actually was a shooting, but it sounds more exciting this way). I shared the back of the bus into Antalya with Will Jones.
I don't know how many of you had the pleasure of meeting or spending any time with him, but he is full of himself, and in general is an elitist jerk(I'm sure I wouldn't feel this way if I were in his inner circle). Either way he spent the majority of the trip bashing Turkey, Canada and all the terrible debaters he judged(yes Robbie, I'm sure you were one of them).
There were some cool Kenyan dancers at the club, did some cool stuff, like pyramids, upside down pyramids, and other cool gymnastic things. Other than that though, the drinks were $9 and when i have free beer at the hotel, $9 is far too much to pay, so I left with the first couple buses.

The next day I again spent most of it in the Sauna and pool(and still catching up to 13drinks/day) Spent some time making pyramids in the pool with a mixture of Canadians, Australians and Scots. After that went to the Grand Final, which admittedly was good and entertaining. The banquet was also quite good, but oddly enough, I don't seem to remember it all but I do remember sea creatures hanging from the roof and I remember lots of drinks, and some dancing, but thats about it, also getting to bed around 4am.

So in review of worlds, it was awesome, the weather was great, the Mediterranean was swimmable in December, the Free Beer was good, the people were excellent. I didn't quite make it to 13 drinks/day, but at some point during the debate days I decided I was fine paying 1/4 of my reg towards food and accomodations, which meant that instead of 13/day I only needed to drink 8/day, which I am proud to announce I did achieve, as a matter of fact my rough calculations(found in my journal in the worst scrawl I seem to have ever written in) turned out to be 9.5 drinks/day over 9 days.

Despite performing poorly in the debate portion, I chalk worlds up as a success.

Tomorrow expect a post from Istanbul, Blue Mosque, Hagia Sofia, and trying to get a Syrian Visa.

Worlds part 1

Some of you may find this part interesting, some of you may not, but it happened so it gets to play a part in my blog.


The next day I met 2 Australians and a guy from Western Ontario(Lenny) who had also been at my hotel. We went to find the bus that would take us to Belek(town nearest the resort we were staying at). Along the way to the bus I discovered some excellent oranges that had fallen from a tree, made even better because they were free.
Eventually got to the resort and checked in.
For those of you who don't know the process at worlds the first few days are briefing and prep stuff followed by prelim debates and then break rounds after New Years.
So the first days weren't all that eventful, except of course the free Beer. Yes thats right, part of the deal with the resort was for the entire tournament to get free local alcohol. When I discovered this I made it my goal to drink my tournament registration in Beer. Over 9 days of tournament assuming ~$5 a drink(cost back home) that brings us to about 120 beers over 9 days, so 13 beers a day, I had my work cut out for me for now suffice it to say the first few days I was well ahead.

As more and more people showed up the fun times got better and better, only thing that makes a debate tournament better is friends to share it with.

First 2 days of rounds went decently, the first day we had one wonky decision one close round and one where we clearly were the best, so it was an ok day, ended on 5 points.
Day two of debate rounds started off better, taking a close 2nd then a clear first, we ended up in a room with Alaska A a Yale team and some other American team(decent, but not great). We were first prop, suffice it to say that we made a mistake, setting the punishment for not stopping an Honour killing as the same as carrying it out, set in Pakistan. We did not know at the time that the penalty in Pakistan for Honour Killings is Death. In effect we were comitting genocide to prevent honour killings. We took a hard 4th

I think that night was the night we played poker, I don't remember, but it seems to fit here, a bunch of us from CUSID West played poker, it was good times, I lost, so not that good.

Day three started out terribly for me, woke up around 5am with the worst stomach ache ever(got pretty close to the pain from appendicitis), by the time I got up around 8am I had a fever, knowing that I had to debate, I took some Immodium. powered through and debated. In between rounds I went to lie down wherever I could, all in all this day sucked. Felt shitty, debated shitty.
That night was also New Years eve, which I spent in bed alone with my fever, however sometime soon after midnight a rather drunk Robbie appeared at my door, and gave me the 2nd piece of good news I had gotten all day(1st was surviving), he was rather excited that 4 Canadians including me had broken to Public Speech Finals.

The first half of Worlds was fun, it was my first time debating so it was different, far more stressful, but something I'm glad I did. I debated the poorest I had all semester but had a good time doing it.
Next post, Worlds after debate(no responsibilities=more fun)

Getting There

So I left home on Dec 24th to be in Montreal for Christmas, it was fun, spending Christmas in Montreal with my mothers side of the family always is, Christmas Mass at Notre Dame, staying up until 4am opening gifts, it's all quite exciting.
But alas I was only in Montreal for 36 hours because on Christmas Day I departed for Turkey.
Now when I originally booked my flight I was in Economy, a few days before my trip I received an email telling my my flight had changed, looking throughout the email I could not find any change to the times, flight numbers, except that I finally noticed that underneath it said Business.
Now I don't know how many of you have flown business class, but I assure you that if you ever get given the opportunity take it, Business class is head and shoulders above the squished compartment given to the chattle at the back of the plane. I could stretch my legs and not touch the seat in front of me, amazing food(actually good rather than just airplane food), real cutlery. I never want to fly economy ever again(if only my wallet agreed with me)

So I flew from Montreal to Zurich, where I went through the same security 3 times, long story short I didn't want to put up a stink about my full waterbottle, they had guns and looked very serious.
I eventually found the Swiss Airlines lounge where there was free food, beer, newspapers internet comfortable chairs, all in all a good place to spend my 2 hours at the airport, also an excellent view.
While taxi-ing to the runway looking out the window I noticed a traffic controller dancing, no idea what to, but I found it amusing enough to put into my journal, he did a bunch of different moves, only recognizable one was the moonwalk, it was impressive.
Flight from Zürich to Istanbul was uneventful, however in Istanbul Airport I discovered that my bags didn't have to clear customs with me, this was news to me and only discovered it after nearly an hour and a half wandering around trying to find someone who could help me(I had made the brilliant decision to put my turkish phrase book in my checked luggage).
Eventually I figured out that my bag didn't need to clear customs(which was strange considering the scrutiny it got later on), exiting the international gate area made me feel like the Pope, or maybe a rockstar. There were thousands of people pushed up against crowd control fences waiting for someone(based on the number of arab looking clothes, I guess they were waiting for people on the flight from Dubai), either way it was pretty cool.

Istanbul to Antalya was uneventful, and I ended up in my hotel around 7pm, at which point I heard some eerie music coming from somewhere(I believe "Con Te Partirò" Brightman and the Blind guy). I soon discovered someone was belting music over the Harbour, the kind of situation that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

All in all my journey was pretty good up to this point, lessons learned: Fly Business Class, Pack your phrase book in your carry on luggage.

Hello world of Internets,

So in case you were not aware I recently returned from a trip to the Middle East. Over the course of my travels I visited Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Jordan, Israel and the West Bank. It was a trip of epic proportions which started as a trip to the Mediterranean Coast in Turkey for the World Debate Championships but turned into an adventure.
I've started this blog to be able to share the tales of adventure, intrigue, politics, border crossings, military checkpoints, epic ruins, dead guys from the bible and more with as many people I know.

Over the course of my journey I kept a journal, which will be provide the basis of this blog. I will try to blog more or less every two days, but sometimes life gets in the way, or I get lazy, who knows. Some posts will be about my daily doings and will go over a day I had, or it could be a commentary or relection on something about my journey, who knows some posts will probably be a grab bag. Those of you who know me know that this could be all over the place.

This blog is not only a place for me to put my stories, but also a place for all of you to ask me questions about things, if you want me to delve more into something please feel free to ask me to, I'd be more than happy.

So sit back relax, pull up an overly sweet black tea or beer and enjoy the tales of which I will regale you.