All hail, Queen of the smells!

I've had a total of two weeks to kill here in Aleppo and, though it is no Damascus, it is not without its own charms. Many of you might be wondering why, given the current political situation, I am still hanging around in Syria. It is certainly true that I could have completed all the sight seeing I wanted to do in less than half of the six weeks I have spent in this remarkable part of the world. My reasons for spending so long here are two-fold and both reflect key character traits/faults that I fear will be with me for life.

1. I am quite lazy.

Every day of full on sight seeing that I do is usually followed by a few days just wandering around absorbing the atmosphere and reading.

2. I'm a bit of a tightarse with my money.

Admittedly my skills in this area are nothing compared with my sister's natural flair for living off the smell of an oily rag - but I do like to stick to a budget. Syria is by far the cheapest country I will visit in the middle east and to leave it earlier than I had orginally planned would put a serious dent in my ability to purchase my own body weight in Harry Potter merchandise come July.

Apart from the stunning Citadel, the labyrinth of souqs in the old city (which cover more than 1.5 square kilometres) and the outstanding array of locally made soaps - the highlight of Aleppo for me has been the cheap glasses. Ever since another traveller I met in Damascus mentioned that Syria is cheaper than India for purchasing spectacles - I've had my eye out for any stores selling glasses. Imagine my delight when I discovered an entire street full of glasses stores here in Aleppo!

I know many of you are wondering how I can get so excited about getting a bit of a discount on some glasses. But I'm not just talking about a BIT of a discount. Picture this: designer frames, top of the line lenses with anti-reflective coating and the convenience of being able to walk away with your fabulous new glasses two hours after you first walked into the shop. How much would you expect to pay? Well in Aleppo you only pay........$50!!! I had planned to get some cheap glasses in India and would have been happy with anything under $300. But I never dreamed I'd be able to get them for $50 - so naturally I bought two pairs.

The last item I had to tıck off my Syria `must do´ list (not countıng a few places that are no longer polıtıcally stable enough to vısıt) was a vısıt out east to Dura Europos on the banks of the Euphrates. The Euphrates river features sıgnıfıcantly ın both the bıble and the Qu´ran. The Book of Revelatıon ın the New Testament predıcts Armageddon when the Euphrates runs dry and the Prophet Mohammed warned that the rıver wıll dry up, revealıng unknown treasures that wıll cause wıdespread war. Relıgıon asıde, the fact that the Euphrates provıdes water to the growıng populatıons of Turkey, Syrıa and Iraq means that ıts polıtıcal sıgnıfıcance wıll surely ıncrease as tıme marches on.

I was a bıt hesıstant about goıng due to the cost (the trıp ınvolved a prıcey hotel stay and hırıng a drıver for a day), a slıght unease about beıng more than one days travel away from a border should thıngs get stıcky and a fear that the Euphrates (lıke the Rıver Jordan) would be disappoıntıng when seen up close. Ultımately ıt was my desıre for a change of scene from Aleppo that decıded the ıssue and last week I headed east ınto the desert for a few days.

On my fırst full day ın the regıon, I set out early wıth my drıver ın an effort to beat the blısterıng heat. I was a bıt peeved that my $40 dıdn´t buy me passage ın an aır-condıtıoned vehıcle, but gıven my recent experıence ın Aleppo I was just relıeved that thıs drıver dıdn´t seem hell bent on kıllıng us both. By the tıme the drıver ındıcated that we were close to the sıte I had almost completely melted ınto the back seat vınyl and could no longer make out where the rocky desert ended and the sky began as we travelled on through a bıscuıt coloured haze.

When he poınted to a crumblıng wall and small tower barely discernable ın the dıstance and saıd ``Dura Eropos´´ I was not that ımpressed. I had blown my budget and travelled for 2 hours that day ın 38 degree heat for thıs? I started lookıng around wıthout much enthusıasm at the large sıte as the wall and gate were all I could see above ground. I took a half hearted look ınto a few of the large holes contaınıng the remaıns of temples before I caught a glımpse of aqua ın the dıstance.

Just a few hundred metres further along I spotted the ancient cıtadel and the ground dropped steeply away to reveal a gorgeous expanse of turquoise river and lush fields stretchıng out below me. The mıghty Euphrates did not disappoint.

After also visıtıng the 5000 year old archeologıcal sıte at Marı, my drıver and I headed back through the 40+ degree heat to Deır ez-Zur. I was completely knackered when I got back to the hotel ın the afternoon and decıded to have a quıck meal before I showered and collapsed. This was a decision I would soon come to regret. At the restaurant I was so engrossed ın the latest Thursday Next novel on my Kındle that ıt took her cough to alert me to the presence of a young woman at my table. She asked what I was readıng and as we chatted I notıced that her Englısh was very good and that her frıends at the nearby table were watchıng our ınteractıon wıth much ınterest. I apologısed for keepıng her from her frıends, but she ınsısted on brıngıng me back to theır table to meet them.

That was how I came to meet the lovely Noor, her sısters Alaa & Esraa and theır frıend (whose name I´ve unfortunately forgotten). It is really dıffıcult to have decent conversatıons wıth local women ın Syrıa, as they are not out and about ın publıc as much as the men are and they are less lıkely to know Englısh than theır male counterparts. Wıthout any male famıly members present at the restaurant, they were free to dıscuss a wıde range of topıcs, such as theır boyfrıends, polıtıcs, educatıon, famıly expectatıons and careers, wıth me. Just when I thought the day couldn´t get any better, Noor then insisted on brıngıng me back to their flat for a visit.

As we crammed ınto a taxı for the short rıde to theır home, I suddenly remembered what I had been doıng for most of the day and, consequently, what kınd of state I was ın. A quıck glımpse ın the rearvıew mırror confırmed my fears as I was coated ın a revoltıng mıxture of sweat, dust and sunscreen. Nothıng short of a long shower and a change of clothes was goıng to remedy the situation and I decıded that sınce the gırls had already seen me thıs way there was no poınt worryıng about ıt. I met theır brother Mohammed at the flat also and spent a most enjoyable afternoon beıng treated lıke a queen. They seemed almost as excıted to talk to me (and offer me tea, fruıt and sweets) as I was to talk to them and I soon realısed just what an honoured guest I was when other members of the famıly started droppıng round. It seemed that the sısters had been busıly callıng everyone they knew to let them know about theır new Australıan frıend.

Noor translated as an ever changıng array of cousıns, aunts and uncles asked me all about Australıa and my travels ın Syria. Just when I thought there could not possıbly be any more famıly members to meet, Mohammed got off the phone and saıd that another uncle had ınvıted us all around to hıs house for the evenıng. I trıed to back out - I really wasn´t dressed for goıng out - but once ıt was clear that my reluctance would cause more offense than my odour, I agreed and we set off ın another taxı. The doorway to the uncle´s lovely home was full of shoes and I was horrıfıed to realıse that I would have to remove mıne to enter. I apologısed profusely for the smell and hastily asked the way to the bathroom where I was able to at least rınse my feet under the shower.

The kındness and generousity shown to me by the entıre famıly was staggerıng. I was gıven gıfts, complımented continuously, fılled wıth delıcıous foods and made to feel ıncredıbly valued. We vısıted the homes of two more relatıves that evenıng and when I fınally returned to my hotel at 11pm I dıdn´t know which was more full: my stomach or my heart.

All in all, I couldn´t have asked for a lovelier end to my tıme ın Syrıa.

NB* Please excuse any strange letters or punctuatıon ın thıs post. I´m fınıshıng ıt ın an ınternet cafe ın Istanbul and the symbols on the keyboard bear lıttle resemblance to what comes up on the screen.

in sha' Allah

If there is one phrase that you hear time and time again in the middle east it is "in sha' Allah". Literally meaning "God willing", it is often accompanied by a shrug or a movement of the speaker's hands or eyes in the direction of heaven.

I have found the phrase to be a great way to bond with locals ("I hope the troubles in Syria will be over soon, in sha' Allah") as well as a highly useful philosophy to live by when backpacking. Anytime I find myself beginning to feel the familiar tightening of muscles in my neck that accompanies an increase in my stress levels, I take a deep breath and think "in sha' Allah".

Travelling alone in a foreign country there are plenty of circumstances that you can obsessively worry about if you choose to:

Am I on the right bus?
Do I look ridiculous with this scarf hastily arranged around my head?
Did I say that right?
Will there be a toilet stop on this bus trip?
Is it better to endure a thumping dehydration headache or the feeling that your bladder is about to burst?
Should I still pay the person sitting outside the toilets when the toilets themselves were in such a revolting state that I would have come into less contact with faeces if I had been at the bottom of a long drop?

In most cases adopting the "in sha' Allah" philosophy allows you to put the problem in perspective and realise that even if the worst is going to happen there is very little you can do about it.

Having said that, my faith in the will of Allah was severely tested on my first taxi ride in Aleppo.

In my experience, you are never more vulnerable as a backpacker than during your first taxi ride in any new location. You often have just got off the bus at a bus station that is not featured on any maps in your guidebook. You have little idea as to the appropriate cost for the journey, except that it will be slightly more than suggested in the guidebook and at least 50% less than is quoted to you by the first driver you encounter. You have no way of knowing if the driver really does know the location you have asked to be taken to or is just saying yes to get the fare. Should you suspect that something is amiss, your large pack and complete lack of knowledge relating to the local area makes a quick escape quite difficult. Even with these challenges, I should point out that most taxi drivers I have encountered in the middle east have been helpful and professional.

Things didn't start well in Aleppo when at least ten taxi drivers started shouting at me and pushing at each other the second I got off the bus. I was, however, quite confident about this taxi ride as I had with me (thanks to another traveller I had met in Damascus) a card for the hotel I wanted to go to in Aleppo. The card had the name and address of the hotel, in both english and arabic, as well as a small map on the back of it showing the hotel's location in relation to other landmarks such as the clock tower and the national museum. I was quite certain that this card was going to be my ticket to a hassle free journey. After looking at the card and assuring me he knew where I wanted to go, the driver I had selected (due to his reasonable price) lead me to his vehicle. I'll admit that the shoddy condition of his taxi, with its many dents and large crack in the windscreen, gave me a moment of concern - but I had agreed to go with him and felt it would be unfair to back out just because his car didn't look that flash.

Within 30 seconds of leaving the bus depot I regretted my decision to go with this driver. His overly aggressive, jerky style of driving filled me with equal parts of nausea and dread as we lurched from one near accident to another. His attitude towards other vehicles and pedestrians was the same: by honking my horn I have alerted you to my presence, it is up to you to get out of the way. I began to wonder if anyone had lost their life when the windscreen had gained its large crack. I tried closing my eyes, but that just served to increase my nausea. After ten minutes, I decided it didn't really matter if the journey was a bit hair-raising as long as I got to my destination in one piece.

Not long after the time when I had decided to adopt the "in sha' Allah" approach, the driver pulled over and pointed. Since he was pointing at the enormous Citadel which towers over Aleppo, I smiled thinking he was pointing out the sights on the way. When he started indicating that I should get out, I realised that something was wrong. I said "No, I want to go to the hotel" and again showed him my card. He started shouting at me and I continued to insist that he take me to the hotel. I considered cutting my loses and getting out - but I didn't know which side of the citadel hill we were on and didn't want to risk having to walk several kilometres with my big pack. By this time we were blocking up the road and a policeman came over. He looked at the card and ushered the driver down a nearby road.

We then proceeded to hurtle down progressively narrower and narrower streets in the old city. I now feared less for my own life than I did for those of the surrounding pedestrians as men, women and children had to leap aside as my driver kept his hand on the horn and foot off the brake. You know in the movies when there is a car chase and they mount the footpath? The car smashes through a few minor obstacles but all pedestrians miraculously avoid major injury. In these scenes you are excited by the action but not at all concerned for anyone's wellbeing because a) the people are fictional and b) the accidental death of an innocent bystander in a movie would be a distracting deviation from the main plot and is therefore highly unlikely to occur. Well our heart stopping journey through the winding alleys of the old city was just like those car chase scenes in movies except that the people were not fictional and there was no stunt co-ordinator to ensure everyone was safe.

After a few minutes my driver was forced to stop by a truck parked in the alley and he again indicated that I should get out. My fear turned to burning anger at this point. If he thought he was going to nearly get me killed then dump me with big pack in the middle of a never ending labyrinth of alleys in an unfamiliar city AND get paid  - he was mistaken. His shouting attracted helpful locals who spoke a little more english than the driver did. I patiently showed the hotel card to a local man and explained that the driver had agreed to take me to this hotel at the bus station. I explained that he had already tried to drop me at the citadel and that I was not happy. I stated that the driver could take me to the clock tower (which there was a little picture of on the map) if he couldn't find the hotel, otherwise I could get out now - but then I would not pay him at all. If he wanted to get paid he had to take me to the clock tower or the hotel. The local man smiled at me and began to translate my statements to the driver.

If my driver was angry before, he was apoleptic after hearing the translation.

When the truck moved we shot through more alleys at twice the speed we had been travelling earlier. My driver kept looking at me in the rear view mirror and screaming at me - which needless to say did nothing to improve his driving. After we spent another 15 minutes terrorising the locals in the old city, and just when I had begun to despair that I would never reach my destination, we burst free of the alleys and headed into a sea of taxis on a main road. My relief was short lived however as a few minutes later we came dangerously close to collision with another taxi in a large roundabout. We were now side by side with the other taxi and neither driver showed any inclination towards moving as they instead started to scream abuse at each other through the open windows. We were blocking the traffic and as my driver started to lean through the open window to grab the other driver, some pedestrians walked through the traffic to break up the argument. It took about 5 minutes to calm both drivers down enough to move on and by this point I was fairly certain that if the journey didn't end in a head on crash it would end when my driver had a stroke at the wheel.

About 500m after the roundabout my driver pulled over, pointed and again indicated that I should get out. He pointed at the large minaret of a mosque and then snatched my hotel card from me to show me where we were. He thought we were at the clock tower. The minaret did resemble the clock tower, in that it was large and tower-like, but its lack of a clock face and location next to the dome of a mosque made me certain we were not at the right place. A local policeman came over and translated for me as I explained the problem and again reiterated that I wanted to go to the clock tower, as opposed to just any old tower. After more screaming at me and shaking of his fist in my direction, my driver reluctantly turned the taxi around and headed back into the traffic.

It was now nearly an hour since we had left the bus depot and set out on a journey that, according to the guidebook, was only 7km long. Though I was tired and could feel the waves of hatred from my driver radiating towards me, I consoled myself with the thought that surely this nightmare of a journey would soon come to an end. A mere 50m from the mosque, we came to a stop. This time the driver did not indicate that I should get out and I soon noticed that ours was not the only vehicle that had stopped. All of the traffic had stopped. When nothing moved for 5 minutes and my driver turned off the engine, I realised we were in gridlock.

"in sha' Allah" just wasn't cutting it for me anymore and I frantically began to search my guidebook map and the view out of the window for any landmark that would clue me in to where we were. It turned out that the nearby mosque was the Great Mosque featured in the guidebook and I figured out I was about a kilometre from the hotel. I decided to cut my losses and paid the driver more than the full fare as a community service to any pedestrians who may have been harmed if he had remained as angry as our journey had made him. This seemed to calm him down quite a bit and I even got a smile from him as I struggled to hoist my pack out of the back seat and onto by back.

As I lumbered, with the additional 20kgs of my pack, through the packed streets of Aleppo I was cheered by the thought that at least every taxi ride I took in the future would seem like a breeze compared to this recent fiasco... in sha'Allah :-)