A Year In Motion

We arrived in the Old City around 9pm and started looking for a room.

We entered through Jaffa Gate to see one of the hotels on our list on fire with a fire brigade outside. Nobody hurt, but no rooms at this inn. Our regular arrival ritual in any city involves wheeling the bags along from hotel to hotel, asking prices and viewing rooms. It’s not as much fun in Jerusalem as the city is built on a hill and the majority of streets are stepped and straight for no longer than 10 metres – so no more wheeling, but carrying – real backpacker style! We ended up lost and tired. We asked a man on the street for directions, and he offered us a room in his place. We checked it out, agreed a price and slept!

Nothing in Jerusalem is ever far from religion. The city is divided into separate quarters, generally along religious lines – the Christian Quarter, the Muslim Quarter, the Jewish Quarter, the Armenian (Christian) Quarter, each with their own character. And that’s why many people come to Jerusalem – to visit the sites so fundamental to their religious belief. As we turned the corner beside the seventh Station of the Cross, we heard the hymns of the cross-bearing groups along the Via Dolorosa. The city is full of pilgrims.

The city is of religious significance to each of the three largest monotheistic faiths. According to the Old Testament, Jerusalem was founded by King David around 3,000 years ago. His son, Solomon was directed by God to build a temple on Mount Moriah, which was known as the First Temple.

This temple is said to have housed the Ark of the Covenant which contained the original stone tablets of the Ten Commandments given by God to Moses. The First Temple was destroyed by King Nebuchadnezzar of the Babylonians, around 600BC. Around 50 years later, with Jerusalem now under Persian control, the Jews were invited to return and rebuild their temple at the same location on Temple Mount. This Second Temple was subsequently renovated and expanded by King Herod, and stood until around 70 AD when the Romans destroyed it while quelling the Jewish Revolt. All that remains of that Second Temple today is the Western Wall, a massive retaining wall at the base of the temple. It is here that the Jews come to pray for the coming of the Messiah through the Golden Gate of Jerusalem, during whose presence on Earth the Third Temple will be built. The Wall is lined with the faithful praying and inserting their prayers in the stuffed cracks of the Wall.

Above the Wall on the Temple Mount itself is the Islamic shrine of the Dome of the Rock, with its beautiful mosaic exterior, landmark golden dome, and wide open spaces surrounding. Inside the Dome is the Rock upon which Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his only son Isaac at God’s behest. Just before the fatal stroke, God sent his Angel to stay Abraham’s hand, and bid him sacrifice a lamb in his place. During the time of Mohammed the Prophet, he received a visitation from the Angel Gabriel, who instructed Mohammed to visit the Al-Aqsa (Farthest) Mosque, which is also found on the Temple Mount. From here, Mohammed embarked upon his Mi’raj journey, and ascended to the Heavens and speaks with the prophets, and finally Allah, who instructs Mohammed that his followers must pray five times a day, before he returns to Earth and to Mecca in the same night. We were unable to visit the inside of the Dome, as it has been closed to non-Muslim visitors since Ariel Sharon’s infamous visit in September 2000 which was one of the main catalysts of the Second Intifada (Uprising) by Palestinians.


From Temple Mount, you can see the three Jerusalem locations of enormous significance to Christianity – the Shrine of the Last Supper, the Gardens of Gethsemane, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The Shrine of the Last Supper is located close to the Tomb of King David and is a non-denominational site.
At the Last Supper, Jesus broke bread and drank wine with his disciples in the first Eucharist, and foretold his disciples of his betrayal by one of them. From there we walked to the foot of the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane where the still-standing olive trees are the only living witness to Jesus’ agony on the night before he died. Inside the shrine, there are mosaics donated from nations all over the world, including Ireland, whose mosaic depicts the dramatic point where Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss before the soldiers lead him away. From there we walk back uphill to the Old City and to the starting point of the Via Dolorosa, where Jesus was condemned, where Pontius Pilate washed his hands of his fate, and where the thorn-crowned Jesus took up his cross. We follow the climbing street to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is found on the supposed site of Golgotha, where the faithful ascend to pray at the crucifixion site at its pinnacle, and bend down to touch the original rock below the church’s floor. From there they descend to the rock where Jesus was laid to be embalmed and prepared for burial, and then on to the Sepulchre itself, the cave from which Jesus was resurrected and rose into Heaven.

Jerusalem is a beautifully preserved city whose future will long continue to be shaped by its religous past. If the religous significance of the sites are not enough to tell you that, the massive and heavily armed security presence around Temple Mount certainly is.

We also took time to visit the residential area of Mea Sharim, which is home to the Orthodox Jewish community. It was amazing to see the robed, bearded and curled, in their ultra-conservative community. We had to be discreet given the signs at each entrance to the district warning tourists away, but the glimpses we had were very interesting.

We also arranged a car rental in Jerusalem, which was tricky, as we want to drive through the West Bank. No Jewish car rental companies will ensure you for entry to the West Bank, as they are legally not permitted by Israeli law to enter the West Bank (unless serving members of the military, of course). We found two companies near Damascus Gate, and settled on one, and set off on our journey to 400 metres below sea level, to the Dead Sea and Jericho and the West Bank.

It was tempting to spend some more time in our luxurious surroundings in Aqaba, but we only had 6 days left before leaving the Middle East, and already that seemed like too short a time for what was left in Israel and Palestine. Originally, we had planned to meet my father in Jerusalem and spend the week with him, but the volcanic ash clouds put paid to that plan. As a result, we had been trying to re-plan our trip to visit Egypt first, and leave Israel and Palestine to a later date at the end of our Africa trip, but it was impossible to get in contact with our travel agent, as they were undoubtedly swamped with the workload of the stranded passengers. So, with mixed feelings, we packed up and headed for the border with Israel.

We had three main reasons for visiting Israel and Palestine:

1. Meet some of Ninfa’s family in her grandfather’s home town of Bethlehem

2. Follow in the footsteps of Jesus in the Holy Land

3. View with our own eyes the political situation that dominates so much of our world news

 

Our first step was to make it across the border. We had heard mixed reports about how long this would take given the fact that we had just visited Syria, and that Ninfa’s surname is Bendeck, which is of Arab origin. And to no surprise, Ninfa was questioned on her name and had her bags meticulously searched over half an hour, and I was searched thoroughly, interviewed twice and made wait 20 minutes to receive my entry visa. Anyway, all’s well that ends well, and thanks to the delay, we exited the Border Checkpoint at the same time as a few other travelers, Ofir and Emmanuel, Israeli and French, and both living in Tel Aviv. We got talking and shared a cab to the bus station in Eilat. We knew that travelling on Saturdays (Shabbat) in Israel was difficult if not impossible, and we had avoided that (it was Sunday). What we didn’t know is that the next day was Israeli Independence Day, and there were no buses running to Jerusalem until the following evening. With Orfy and Emmanuel, we managed to catch the last bus to Tel Aviv, and added a new and unplanned destination to our itinerary.

The journey was five hours by bus, eventful only for the jerky driving of the bus driver which prevented us sleeping, and the Italian theology student sitting behind us, who reminded us on more than one occasion that “Jesus Christ, he is the best!”, among some of his other interesting opinions on the religious faiths.

Emmanuel kindly offered to accommodate us in her apartment in a Bauhaus building (Tel Aviv is a UNESCO site due to its unrivalled abundance of Bauhaus architecture) on the happening Rothschild Boulevard. Rothschild Blvd is in the centre of Tel Aviv and is dissected lengthwise by a central pedestrian area lined with trees, benches and cafes. Accessories of choice are dogs fashionably groomed, bikes and take-away coffees. Sadly, we didn’t cut it struggling with our bags and the heat, but that didn’t stop us from at once appreciating the cool, hip and laid back vibe that pervades Tel Aviv. As we had arrived late, we had a drink and watched the party getting started for Independence Day. Of all the cool kids in town, our favourites were definitely the long-haired, bearded, happy group of Jews driving down the street in their van with huge speakers, stopping to get out and dance on the street and spread the happiness. I forget their name, but they’re a particularly carefree branch of the religion.

The next day, we set out on foot to discover Tel Aviv. The “White City” is not renowned for it’s sightseeing, but we had a few must-sees on our list courtesy of Ofir. We walked down to the waterfront where the place was just alive with families out for the day celebrating with barbecues. There wasn’t a green space to spare, and above us El-Al had their jets do several fly-bys. We walked along the waterfront to Jaffa, an old port city which has been absorbed by the sprawl of Tel Aviv. There we ate shaksuka, a traditional egg and tomato dish eaten for breakfast – very good! Jaffa also has a very cool port area, with all the traditional port activities you would expect, but with a backdrop of modern bistro terraces. The fish looked good, but we had already eaten, and it was time to make a move to Jerusalem. We stopped quickly for a chocolate pizza (yes!) before taking the evening bus to Jerusalem, home to the some of the most important religious sites to the three main monotheistic faiths of Christianity, Islam and Judaism. But more on that in our next post.

Overall, Tel Aviv is cool and happening, and we would have liked to spend a lot more time there. It’s like a European city in the Middle East, a nice mix of two cultures which we enjoy a lot. Bye bye party capital, hello holy capital!

PS All photos are uploaded in our Israel and Palestine gallery here.

We succumbed.

After a couple of hours we finally find a bus to get us from Wadi Rum to Aqaba. We negotiated to get a ride in the “teachers’ bus”. Of course they were all very traditional Muslim covered women, who were all giggles when Tony got in the bus.

We had been warned that Aqaba might be expensive and not be so interesting and that maybe we should cross into Egypt’s Red Sea Coast for a few relaxing days in the beach. We thought we were behind in time and since we had to be in Israel by a certain date it was better to hang in Jordan’s Red Sea coast.

Aqaba’s town is unimpressive. If you are not staying in one of the fancy resorts it’s very hard to get on the beach or actually even watch the sunset. The small stretch of public beach is very crowded and nothing to write home about. After one night we decided to head about 12 km south to the beaches in the Aqaba Marine Park to stay at one of the “hippie” Bedouin hotels. A bit better than Aqaba town, but still nothing to write about.

Coming from a country with a Caribbean coastline, I’m spoiled when it comes to beaches, so still was not very impressed by the Red Sea beaches. The beaches are not very sandy, and the shoreline is so rocky that you have to wear shoes going in. What is actually impressive is that you are standing in Jordan and can look out at Egypt, Israel and Palestine, and Saudi Arabia; all of which can be reached in less than half an hour. The Red Sea does not have red water, but it actually looks red at sunrise and sunset because of the glare from the big range of red mountains that encompass Jordan’s south coast.

We spent the day relaxing at the pool, overlooking the sea in our modest Bedouin hotel. We took a walk to the beach and observed the locals spending their day off at the beach. Their main activity at the beach is eating, so you could see groups cooking and grilling their meats. Most women do not go in the water, but does who do wear clothes. Yes – they go in with veil and all, and the more modern ones with jeans.

Next day we went scuba diving. I was not expecting much, but we had a fabulous sighting of interesting fish. We went for an offshore easy dive to a site called Gorgone 1, which is composed of three pinnacles. We saw the playful clown fish (Nemo), banrer fish, moray eel, spangled emperor, parrot fish, moses sole, masked putter fish, sea urchins, emperor angle fish, coral grouper, scalfin and twinspots, cornet fish, etc. We also saw the dangerous scorpion fish and lion fish (as in Deuce Bigelow movie), and the lethal stone fish. If you touch this fish you have no more than 15 minutes to get medical attention or you could be dead or paralyzed at the least. We had been given a lecture about it previously and had been strongly warned against touching them. There is nothing to fear as any scuba diver knows that none of the aquatic life should be touched, and if you don’t mess with them they will not mess with you. Our Dive Master pointed the stone fish to us, as they look like stones they are actually very hard to spot.

We knew there was a five star Radisson resort just a few kilometers south in Tala Bay. Tala Bay is a new development of fancy properties and resorts just before the border with Saudi Arabia. So we decided to go there for a sunset drink. I wasn’t so convinced about the idea, since it would be hard coming back to sleep in our booked hotel. It is so exhausting in Aqaba to deal with taxi drivers, so we started walking to Tala Bay and hitched a ride with a friendly local.

The Radisson property is spectacular. We watched the sunset sipping cocktails and smoking a lemon mint nargile. Suddenly it was like we were transported into another dimension. Their private beach is very well maintained, and if you want to go swimming there is a a pier to avoid the rocky shoreline. There are five beaches, including an adult only huge infinity pool overlooking the sea. They have several restaurants and bars to cater all tastes. The service was extraordinary, a total change from what we had been experiencing the last three weeks in the Middle East. Half of the employees are women which was also a big change, since we have barely seen women working in the region. Of course they were not locals, they are from the Philippines and Sri Lanka. We wanted to stay there so much!

It did not help that earlier in the day I had shown my father via Skype our accommodation, and for about the third time he went on saying how Tony and I shouldn’t be so tight and spend a little more in “decent” hotels. And as well my grandfather had just posted a comment saying how he liked reading our adventures but he could only do it himself in first class all the way. Normally for our holidays we would go to a place like that, but this is a trip for 365 days in which neither of us is perceiving any income, we definitely cannot afford 365 days of luxury.

Tony’s rationalization for blowing the budget was that we would make it up in the TransSiberian train as we would barely spend any money while we were on the train. I reminded him that the tickets had been very expensive, but he said we had planned the budget after buying the tickets so it was ok … hmmm. Then my father’s words kept circling my mind: “You only live once, this is an opportunity of a lifetime, in a year you will get back and everyday will be the same, live up.” SOLD! Needless to say we booked a room for the following night, and decided to postpone our border crossing. We walked back to our “hotel” to pack our bags and go to bed early to come back next day to paradise.

We arrived in the resort early and were upgraded to a suite that overlooked the Red Sea, with its own private balcony the size of 3 standard rooms to watch the sunset! At that point life couldn’t be better. We lived the high life for two days and like a Cinderella story we went from rags to riches… and then rags again.

Written by: Tony and Ninfa

Tony was feeling better so we left Petra bound for Wadi Rum. I find it strange that for a country whose economy is based so much on tourism, the transport infrastructure is quite poor. At least for independent travel that is, maybe their main market is group tours as we did see an enormous amount of tour buses.There is only one (even if) minibus daily to Wadi Rum from Petra and it is at 6:30 a.m. First of all we dislike early starts and most importantly, we thought it would not be a good idea to spend a full day in the desert when Tony was just recovering from dehydration and heat exhaustion. The only option left was to take a private taxi to Wadi Rum for 25 JDs. I am no fan of the sun myself, so just a sunset and a night in the desert would do us both fine.

The road (King’s Way) from Petra to Wadi Rum climbs and winds and offers some great views. As you get closer to Wadi Rum, the outlines of the vast mountains rising out of the desert flats come into sight in the distance. On approaching closer, the first thing we noticed was the dust – a film of dust cloaked the view in every direction. Once within the dust-bowl, it appears clear, but later that night in the camp, we could see millions of tiny particles of sand in the torchlight. It’s dry and hot!

The vast desert expanse of Wadi Rum in South Jordan was renowned for its beauty as long ago as the Quran, but most recently through the famous book and film of TE Lawrence (of Arabia), who travelled through here with the Saudi Prince Faisal who led the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman empire in Arabia. The desert is a protected area of 720 square kilometers of canyons, valleys and mountains that reach heights over 1700 meters and is inhabited by Bedouin tribes who cater to tourists by providing desert tours and overnight stays at their camps.

We arrived in the Visitor Center to pay our due of 2JDs each. Arriving at the same time with a full entourage was Charlie Boorman, another fellow travel writer and actor. From our guidebook, we found a camp run by a nice man who did not push too much about selling us desert tours, and instead just sold us half board at his camp at the far end of the park (with shower and toilet) with transport included from the Wadi Rum Visitor Center and back. We had been in the spectacular Erg Chebbi desert in Morocco, where we rode camels and climbed dunes, so this time we just wanted a relaxing time. We climbed a sandstone hill behind the camp and found a rocky perch to face the setting sun and endless shades of red desert. On our return to camp, and after countless cups of tea we had a traditional Bedouin dinner. The meal was Zarb, an authentic Bedouin dish, made of chicken and local vegetables. It was cooked in a wood oven buried in the sand for some hours,then dug out of the sand. It was very tasty as the result is a dish that is crisp on the exterior and tender inside.

After eating we walked a little around the camp surroundings. You could easily lose track of time admiring the far-off cloudy galaxies and bright stars standing out against the midnight blue sky in the desert tranquility. The dropping temperature urged us back to camp to spend the night in our cosy goat-hair tent. We had a surprisingly pleasant and deep sleep and only woke up when called for breakfast. We are now in Rum village trying to find a way to get to Aqaba, as nobody knows about buses here, but surely we will find a way.

 

When needed, it paid being a woman in the Muslim world. Tony and I are not keen on early starts, especially when we are on holidays; so instead of taking the big comfortable tourist bus that goes from Amman to Petra once daily at 6:30 am, we opted for taking the minibus the locals use. By the time we got to the station it was almost 4 pm and apparently that is the last minibus of the day. We were watching how people ran like crazy when their expected minibus arrived and how they would compete for a seat as there were not enough for all, some would throw their luggage through the window to save a seat. I thought that for sure we would not get a seat, especially with our big luggage, and that we would have to stay in Amman one more day or pay up to go in a taxi all the way. When our minibus finally came, as expected, chaos reigned. Then we observed that the bus driver yelled at the men to step out and make room so that all the women would get in first. So I joined in of course and saved a seat for Tony, although it was not necessary, since men can’t sit with women whom are not related to them. Perfect! Needless to say, many men did not get a seat.

Off we went to Petra in the crammed minibus, with the usual crazy loud Arabic music we have been hearing for the last 2 weeks. By now, Tony actually likes the music, so he got some tunes transferred into his phone via bluetooth from a local girl from Petra seating behind us. We started talking to her and her cousin and after to her sister, Ameera. Once again we experienced the hospitality of the Jordanian people. The girl gifted me with the eyeliner the Bedouins use as she thought my eyes would look nicer wearing it. I asked them about their dress, traditions and their culture. They invited us to stay in their house in their village Um Sayhoun, which is 5 kms from Petra. We declined the offer, but agreed to visit them later in the night. I am very curious on learning about different cultures, so was very excited about the opportunity to learn about them. They are authentic Bedouin people so I expected their house would be in a sort of traditional cave setting. Boy was I wrong…we were welcomed into a very modern and beautiful house, with all the same comforts we have in the West. We met the parents and chatted for a long time with the father, a big businessmen with perfect English who invited us for tea and fruit, taught Tony how to tie his keffiryeh (scarf), invited us to check our emails from his big fancy computer, gave us tips on our next destinations and drove us back to the hotel. He was actually born in the caves in Petra, where he used to live. Lucky for us, he also invited us to come next day for dinner.

We came back the day after and the mother had made a big meal for us: “Moughrab”, a traditional Bedouin meal made for feasts, which consists of “upside down rice”, with vegetables, chicken and spices. They do have a big Western style dining table, but this time we ate in their traditional setting: all seated in a circle in the floor with the huge dish in the middle. They offered us plates, but we insisted on eating the way they do: either with the hand or with a spoon directly from the dish. The meal was delicious indeed, but experimenting their culture was priceless. We talked about their food, dance, music, traditions, politics, etc. while having the local soap operas in the background. We met both grandmothers, sisters, brothers,and cousins and although most of them could not speak any English we communicated just fine. We even parted with gifts, it was an amazing experience, and so far I am fulfilling my wishes for this trip. Next time I will not hesitate on someone’s offer of staying in their house, it was an experiene worth a thousand times more than staying at the mediocre hotel we are at. If you plan on coming to Petra you can arrange to stay with them and have a local experience by contacting Ameera at +962796835877. Unfortunately we had our plans already made, but if you need help with tours in the desert, Khalil (+962777770790), their father, can make good deals also.  We have no interest in recommending them, we only give their numbers because we wish we would have known beforehand about them and think might be of use to other people. 

As you might tell, interacting with the locals is a major highlight for me; sometimes even more than the sights in itself. I consider it an invaluable learning opportunity. We of course visited one of the 7 new wonders of the world, the UNESCO Heritage site PETRA, a Nabataean settlement dating from the 3^rd century BC, composed of magnificent palaces and tombs carved directly into the sandstone mountains, which was very prosperous in its days, as it was in the Silk Road trade route. It was deserted in the 6^th century AD after earthquakes and changes in the trade routes.

Having heard of it all your life and having seen it in Indiana Jones, it’s one of those moments you have been waiting for a long time, I even felt like I had been there before. It’s like I even knew where the turn coming unto the infamous Treasury Building was located. We walked through the whole city and hiked to the highest points, about 12 kms under the hot sun. It is definitely a wonder of the world, it is incredible the knowledge these ancient civilizations had for constructing such beautiful buildings. We were told the best time to see the Treasury Building was in the morning beacuse of how the light shines on it. This information was wrong, on our way back we saw it again, and this time it was pink, absolutely astounding! The best time is in the late afternoon. My description of this spectacular city would not do it any justice as it is very hard to describe it in perfection. It is something you have to see for yourself. If you do come be very well prepared for the heat and long walks, at the moment Tony is suffering from heat exhaustion. 

As I was in Petra, I understood for the first time when they say that tourism can be of negative impact to a society. We paid 33 JD (about 36 Euros) pp just for admission. There is no student or elderly discount and you cannot pay with credit card . As from November 1, the price will be 50 JD’s (55 Euros)! We did not hire a guide as we were strongly warned about fake guides and we had spent enough already. At the entrance they advertise that they have identified trained guides in the paths that you can ask your questions to. We did not see any of them the whole day. A horse ride to the entrance is also included in the price, but the man that leads your horse still tries to charge you for it. Inside the park there are camels, donkeys and carriages that you can hire from the Bedouins for taking you from a specific point to another. Honestly I felt insulted many times when they would approach us and insist we hire a donkey for 20 JD’s (22 Euros) each, for taking us a mere kilometer. More than once, you encounter the typical scene of a tourist arguing with a Bedouin for not delivering the service offered. It shocked me to see a Bedouin scream loudly “F**k you” to an Asian girl who refused to pay the whole fare since he had not taken her to where he offered. As well as this, there is lots of child labour and animal abuse to be seen. I just can’t help but think that the we as tourists contribute to this situations as we create the demand. Mainly I cannot understand how the government and site administrators do not regulate these situations and allow them to happen, especially with such a steep admission fee. If not included in the price, at least the fees for these services should be clearly advertised and respected, and if possible be honest prices. I think that some microbusiness training should be implemented to these people, terms like increase in sales by volume should be taught to them. At the moment not many tourists use these services beacuse the prices are so elevated; with a bit more vision, the situation could be win win for tourists and Bedouins alike. Probably these factors do not affect the average tourist’s sensibility, but they did affect my enjoyment in the site and if I do not point them out, I am just contributing to the problem. Back in December, I took Tony to the Mayan (another ancient civilization) Ruins in Copan, Honduras. I was astounded because they charged him US $ 15 as a foreigner. I was so wrong, the site is very impressive as well and better regulated in terms of all that I mentioned above. I am happy to say that the Ministry of Tourism in my country is doing a good job.  

All the above does not have anything to do with the grandeur of the site itself, it is a magnificent achievement of humankind and everyone should try and see it once in their life, and the sooner the better. And I am definitely not generalizing about Bedouins. As I described above, Ameera and her family were extremely hospitable without expecting anything in return. As well, Khaled, the grocer next to our hotel was very kind and generous with us. He would not let me pay for groceries and kept giving me free stuff to take, he made tea for Tony to heal according to his symptons and advised me on how to care for him to recover soon. While Tony was recovering in bed, I kept going back to drink Khaled’s many assorted teas on his insistence. His customers were obviously very curious about me and for all I know with my limited knowledge of Arabic he could be saying I was going to be his 4^th wife, as they all grinned when he replied about who I was. He kept feeding us for free all day and I parted with yet another gift necklace. These people are great ambassadors of the Bedouin culture and I believe they are actually more the norm, than the ones who deal daily with tourists inside the park.

There’s a bus station called Al-Samariyeh to the South of Damascus from which all southbound transport leaves, including a large fleet of service taxis. After some enjoyable haggling, I got us a deal for Sy£600 (€10) each for a 4-hour journey to Amman, Jordan. That’s probably Sy£100 pp more than the lowest price, but all importantly, we got a car with no other passengers and a decent vehicle. The driver was a complete chancer though, arguing en route that I should pay his Sy£500 departure tax, which I didn’t, and his 20JD speeding fine in Jordan, which neither of us did after I spoke to the police and told them I had no Jordanian Dinars.

Damascus is a flat city built at the base of a rocky mountain, but Amman is big hills everywhere. Originally built on seven hills, Amman now covers several more. Another thing that is evidently different from Damascus is the wealth in Amman; new malls, ambitious construction sites, mansions and palace hotels with a very hip youth culture hanging out on Rainbow Street and its cafés. We cruised around the city with our new friend, Samir. Ninfa knew Samir from Facebook, as he takes an active interest in building links between all the Bendeck (or Bandak in a more original form in his case) families worldwide.

The next day Samir picked us up at our hotel in his beloved Isuzu 4×4. We first visited the Citadel perched atop the Jebel al-Qala’a, Amman’s highest hill. The Citadel provides views all around the city as well as of the huge Jordanian flag which dominates the central Amman skyline. The museum is well worth a quick look if only for its ancient clay sarcophagi found at the site.

We hit the road west out of the city before midday.This was a real bonus, as other than renting the scooter in Goreme, we had not been able to sightsee outside the cities since we began our trip, and we hadn’t planned on seeing North-West Jordan at all. And to top it all off, Samir had organised a fantastic itinerary for us, both of famed sites and little-known favourites of his own, so all we had to do was sit back and enjoy.

One of the things I was most looking forward to before I visited the Middle East was the opportunity to visit the sacred sites of the Holy Land. Christianity, Islam and Judaism are so closely linked that they share the same personages, and each site carries different significations for each religion. Mount Nebo was the first such site we visited.

After having led the Israelites from Egypt, the people became impatient with Moses due to lack of food and water. God intervened and commanded Moses to strike his cane in the ground, from which sprung forth water in what today is still an arid and rocky land. Later in their migration, Moses again struck his cane in the ground to sate the Israelites thirst, but this time without God’s permission. God summoned Moses to the summit of Mount Nebo, and revealed to him the Promised Land to the west of the River Jordan, at the same time vowing that Moses would not live to set foot upon it. Moses died on the same mountain. It was from the summit of Mount Nebo that we set our gaze out through the haze towards Jericho, the Dead Sea, and behind the mountains facing us, Jersualem.

From Mount Nebo, we descended lower than we have ever been in our lives towards the River Jordan which runs below sea level to the Dead Sea, a sea so salty that it supports little to no aquatic life. In Christianity, the River Jordan is the only river whose water is sacred without need to have it blessed, as it was in this river that Jesus himself was baptised by John the Baptist. The precise location as described in the Bible is at Bethany Beyond the Jordan, and according to our guide, it is the third holiest site in Christianity, after Bethlehem and Jerusalem. It was awe-inspiring to know that here took place the very events that billions of people would continue to worship two thousand years later. Not far from this location is the current course of the River Jordan, whose path has changed with the passage of time, and whose flow has diminished due to damming upstream. At this point on the East Bank of the Jordan, we witnessed a modern-day baptism take place. Less than 10 metres opposite us lay the occupied territory of Palestine, the West Bank. I filled a bottle with the holy water for my family and friends at home.

We continued our trip through the fertile valley of the River Jordan and north past millenia-old “Roman” olive trees and numerous military checkpoints to the ancient city of Umm Qais, made from black basalt rock, on a hill overlooking the disputed territory of the Golan Heights, and the Sea of Galilee, which we will visit next week. Here, among the ruins we ate a delicious meal and watched the sunset over the horizon and the lights appear in Tiberias on the banks of the lake.

Samir was an excellent host in Jordan, a new friend for me and cousin for Ninfa, and we owe him a debt of gratitude for his time, welcome and for having whet our appetite for what is yet to come in Jerusalem and beyond. We had such a good time, we even exchanged “habibi” (the famed Middle Eastern “I love you” that friends use) on parting. Now on to Petra.

The minute I arrived in Aleppo, Syria I immediately hated it. It was hot, dusty, noisy and the worst part was that as a woman I had to be covered up to respect their customs. After leaving Damascus, I had learned to really enjoy the country and thought perhaps

our visit should have been longer. Tony’s case with Syria was love at first sight! Everybody (well the men, as you hardly encounter women there) wanted to talk to him, welcome him, take photos with him, etc. I was ignored most of the time, and after a while I thought it was good that way; as I remembered how different and sometimes unpleasant is the unwanted attention women receive in other places of the world, like my neck of the woods.

We took a 5 hour southbound train from Aleppo to Damascus, reputed to be the oldest inhabited city on earth, or so they say. The train was really comfortable, although not much scenery to be observed. In Syria domestic travel is the same as international, as everytime you get on a bus, train or long distance taxi you have to fill documents and have police clearance. If it were not for a very helpful attendant who spoke good english at the train station, the train would have left without us, as we did not know all the formalities, and had not arrived with time to spare.

Once in Damascus we found a hotel in Sahria Basa, a quite interesting quarter mixed with tourists and locals alike, just outside the old city walls. Although not to the extent in Aleppo, people were friendly: some guided us around, offered us rooms in their houses when we could not find a hotel, gave us free fruits and vegetables, etc. Damascus was not as hot as Aleppo, on the contraire it was really windy. Of course it is still a conservative city as all Syria, but less than Aleppo.

We spend most of our time in the Old City, wondering through the endless lanes of souks. During the day one of the indoor souks looks like a starry night, as the light comes in through holes in the roof left behind by French bullets from planes during the invasion. Another souk is in the Straight Street, which goes from one side of the old city to the other opposite passing through the Christian and Jewish Quarters. All the shops here have beautiful exteriors: big wooden doors and colored windows. As in Aleppo, the Christian Quarter is the most beautiful. It is very well kept and you perceive a sense of tranquility away from the chaos of the souks. We had great afternoons, just getting lost in the souks, not shopping – just looking.

What we do shop for is food! That is our main delight when traveling. In Damascus Tony was in heaven. His sweet tooth was very satisfied as he could eat all types of baclave (traditional small pastries made of honey and nuts) all day long. We could not miss visiting Bakdash, the famous ice cream place in the Middle East, a local hangout place where you eat tapioca pudding and ice cream. We kept indulging in local food, both from the street and from fancy restaurants. Euros go a long way in this country so we could afford the luxury this time. 

Another highlight was visiting the mosques. First we visited the Umayyad mosque. Not only did I have to get covered up, but Tony was given a skirt to wear… It is an impressive site, both because of its grandeur and because of its golden mosaics. They claim to have the head of John the Baptist (Prophet Yehia) in a shrine inside the prayer hall, where you can observe the devotion of those praying to him.

The other mosque we visited was the Shiite Sayyida Ruqayya Mosque. It receives many pilgrims from Iran, as the tomb of the daughter of the martyr Hussein, son of Ali is in there. This site was more impressive to us because of the emotion you see in the pilgrims, especially women praying to the shrine. It is a very moving scene. The mosque in istself is out of this world in terms of extravagance. Although we are not Muslims, we appreciated being allowed in these sites, as it gave us a better understanding of a religion we do not know much about. The mosques are not only for prayer, but a place where friends meet and children play. This experience has has definitely opened up my mind further. 

We also went to see the infamous Abu Shady, the last of the professional storytellers in Syria, who narrates daily tales after sunset in the Al Nawafara Coffee Shop. It is worth checking it out, but we did not stay for long as obvioulsy it has become a tourist affair.

We visisted the Azem Palace, which was built in 1749 and the house of the Governor of Damascus. It is not as impressive or big as the usual palaces we all hear about, but it is worth the visit, as it explains all the aspects of life in those days and and shows you the original Damascene architecture, courtyard and fountains included.

I leave Syria with happiness in my heart and a better understanding of their culture. Although there is poverty, there is almost no crime. I wont get into the rationality of that, my point is that as a traveler it is probably one of the safest places in the world. You can walk at any hours and not worry about a thing. Syria – a worthwhile destination to consider for your travels.

After the hot air balloon ride, we travelled eight hours by bus via Adana to Antakya in South-Eastern Turkey, where we would cross the border and travel to Allepo, Syria via shared or “servees” taxi from the old bus station. But by the time we arrived in Antakya, it was 9pm and already dark. We didn’t have a hotel booked in Aleppo, not a word of Arabic, and felt a little apprehensive about trusting our passage to a taxi driver with no English in the middle of the night. So on second thoughts, we spent the night in Antakya, eating quickly – my second meal of lamb on Easter Sunday; two too many! – and calling it a night, in order to be fresh for an early departure the next morning. When we arrived the next morning at the old bus station to haggle, exchanging prices on keypads on mobile phones, we felt a lot better about what lay ahead.

And so we set off at speed with two fellow passengers along the road from Antakya, listening to loud Arabic music, eventually managing to fasten our uncooperative seatbelts. It was at this point that I really felt our adventure into the unknown beginning.

The Syrian border is about half-way between Antakya and Aleppo in the middle of rocky, rugged hills. You know you’re near when the barbed wire and outlook posts begin to line the roadside. The Turkish border is an impressive new development, and after getting our passports stamped, we drove along a winding valley road through no-man’s-land passing one or two burnt-out cars before arriving at the Syrian border. This was a rather more lengthy affair, and while smiles are at a premium among the rows of uniformed soldiers, we had no difficulty gaining entry having obtained our visas in advance. Ninfa told me stories of people arriving to apply for the visa at the border and meeting delays of up to 10 hours as the authorities waited for confirmation faxes to come from Damascus. I will probably see worse border crossings in the year ahead, but I wouldn’t look forward to spending 10 hours here. Or at least I thought so, until I found the Duty Free shop which sold Jameson 12 Year Old Whiskey for $30 a bottle. At this point, sacrificing 10 hours of our day become a very appealing thought indeed.

We later parted company with our chauffeur into a bustling Al Baron street in a hot, dusty, and noisy Aleppo. We found some helpful travel agents who wrote down addresses in Arabic and gave us directions to the Christian quarter Al Jdaydeywith its narrow alleyways, wooden houses, and stone-paved streets. It didn’t take long until Ninfa became a little overcome by the oppressive heat and oppressive custom of being covered up from head to toe. We eventually found a hotel close to Bab Al Faraj which was basic but bright and spacious, and gave us some valuable time to gather ourselves for the day ahead.

As the national monuments are closed on Tuesdays in Aleppo, we made the Citadel our first stop and walked up to the giant mound in the middle of the city which offers commanding views over the city and countryside below. As I had my student card (ask no questions) with me, I only had to pay Sy£10 (€0.17) for entry instead of Sy£150 (€2.50). Syria offers very generous discounts to students, and I am writing this post from the Aleppo – Damascus train which cost us Sy£160 (€3.17) each as a result of student discount.

The Aleppo Citadel is a refreshing haven from the hustle and bustle of the city. As we were strolling around, we were approached by two young guys, one of whom called “Hello, where are you from?”. We replied and he said “Welcome”, and asked for a photo with me. We were impressed with their friendliness, so Ninfa took our photo and we chatted and laughed a little more, and went our separate ways. As we were leaving the guy called out to me “I love you!”, so, a little surprised and amused, I called back that I loved him too. A little further through the ruins, we met several more people asking us where we were from, and saying “Welcome”, and another who declared his love for me.

Fearing I’d be the subject of a quarrel, we strolled back towards our hotel through the massive and mazy souq. Here again, men (very few women around) were calling “Where are you from?”. And after I would reply “Ireland”, they’d call after me “How’s the craic?”. Brilliant! (For those who don’t know, how’s the craic is a typical Irish greeting). Another said he had a friend from Ireland. I asked who, and he said “Irish Coffee”. Another had a friend in George Bernard Shaw, and another was friends with Oscar Wilde, crying out “I love him”, perhaps revealing a little more than he intended. On other occasions, when I say I’m from Ireland, I am frequently met with a smiling inquiry of “Belfast?”, seemingly seeking out a brother in arms. I have so far avoided the temptation of answering yes, for fear of the possibility of kisses and hugs at such a joyful occasion.

Although the merchants in the souq have a motive for being friendly, they are not half as pushy as in Turkey, nevermind Morocco, and the souq is a great experience. The Syrian people are fantastic, really pleasant and friendly, (loving even), and at no time did we feel at risk of any petty crime.

When we arrived at the hotel, the receptionist, Ahmed, refused to believe I was Irish, because I didn’t have red hair. Instead he insisted that I was Arabic, probably from Lebanon. This is not the first time that I have heard this, as Ninfa’s grandfather Papa Victor has claimed this from the first time he saw my photo.

So I decided to indulge in a little Arab ritual. I hadn’t shaved for over a week, and my hair was getting messy so I made a trip to the barber. I referred to a photo in my phone to explain the style I wanted, and the barber proceeded to give me a very tidy and short haircut, followed by an elaborate blowdry. Then coffee, a short break, then the shave. After about five minutes of foaming, he had only foamed my beard, but not my moustache, and I kept signalling for him not to forget. As he approached the end, another idea took over, and I tapped him and pointed to the photo of the moustachioed President Al-Basar (whose picture is everywhere in Syria). A little later, wearing my new keffiyeh (Arabic checkered scarf), I arrived back at the hotel where Ahmed duly confirmed I was now 100% Arabic. However, I am not sure how long before I revert to my orignal nationality. Watch this space.

The only thing that rivals Syria in terms of the genuine warmth of its natives, is the huge range of street food, sweet and savoury. Mouthwatering and delicious, we have eaten dates, olives, nuts, fresh bread stuffed with chili paste and cheese, chicken shawarmas, honey-drenched baklava … I don’t care if I never eat in a restaurant here again, it’s all on the street!

Aleppo is hot, dusty and noisy, and although I didn’t realise it at first, that’s exactly how I like it!

Photos to follow shortly.

Another dream fulfilled; we are just back from our hot air balloon flight over the surreal surroundings of Cappadocia in Turkey (Turkish: Kapadokya), which is dominated by caves and fairy chimneys that change colour depending on the sunlight. We arrived 2 days ago after an 11 hour night bus journey from Istanbul. Buses are very modern in this country so it was not an uncomfortable experience for me, but Tony’s longer legs did not feel quite the same. I really wanted to stay in a cave hotel in Goreme, so we searched and searched until we found an adequate one. Of the two of us, Tony is the allergic one; but it was my turn this time. I never knew I had any allergy until now. The natural rock of the caves is damp and made me very sick. My right eye and right nostril did not stop watering the whole time, until we changed to a non-cave room the second night. I looked pathetic, to the point that a man asked me if I had been smoking hashish … I can barely smoke nargile water pipe! 

We rented a 125cc scooter and did our own tour of the region, taking the roads less traveled.  Obviously they don’t get too much tourists in the villages we passed through, as people would stop what they were doing to wave and shout “hello!” to us. The scenery with the different rock formations is something out of this world. The first Star Wars movie was filmed here, so yes it’s out of this world. Cappadocia is the result of volcanic eruptions 3,00,000 years ago which covered the land in a soft layer of “tuff” rock. The areas not covered by basalt rock on top gradually eroded over time, leaving mystical valleys in their wake. A major highlight was a visit to Derinkuyu, an underground city. Many centuries ago the locals built underground cities to escape from invaders.  Derinkuyu is quite amazing as it goes 8 floors underground through low, narrow tunnels. They had churches underground in the city and even stables. It is well worth a visit. Get there early though to avoid the tour-buses.

Yesterday we were supposed to take a hot air balloon ride over the valleys at sunrise. We were up very early for our flight, but they never came to pick us up. Later, they told us that most flights had been canceled because it was too windy. It would have been good if they had let us know instead of waiting for hours. Anyway we decided to stay one more day and hope for better conditions. It paid off! We are just back from an amazing experience in the clouds watching the sunrise over Cappadocia. We were not alone in the sky, about 20 other balloons accompanied us in the sky. And this is still low season!

We also paid a visit to the Goreme Open Air Museum, which is a small monastic settlement of cave houses and built in fairy chimney between the 10th and 13th centuries in which you can see the way people lived. There are many churches inside the caves, most of which still have “seccoes” (similar to frescoes) on the walls depicting geometric figures, animals, and the most beautiful ones displaying well preserved and colorful Biblical images. Some of the paintings have the eyes destroyed due to superstitious locals fearing the evil eye. But Tony was quite annoyed to see some paintings defaced with people’s initials – a more recent and less appreciable form of art.  

The food was delicious as well. In Cappadocia they have the “Testi Kebap”, which is made in a clay pot and broken in the table before serving. I still am not sure what the term kebap connotes, as they seem to call almost all their food kebaps. It is not only a wrap in bread, but many oven baked dishes and stews as well. The people have been very helpful and nice. A special mention goes to the owner of our second hotel (Dora) and travel agency Cem Tours, Mr. Arslan. Not only he gave us great deals on prices, but helped us with everything. We had not booked our balloon in advance, and they were all full, as this is Holy Week; but he did everything he could to get us onto a first flight.

Overall, we’re extremely satisfied with our visit to Turkey. Now Syria, via the ancient city of Antakya (Antioch) and then perhaps the oldest cities on Earth, Aleppo and Damascus. Happy Easter!

According to Virgil, the Roman poet, Aeneas, the legendary founding-father of the Roman nation hailed from the ancient city of Troy on the Eastern coast of the Dardanelles. North through the straits of the Dardanelles at the opposite end of the Marmara Sea, Constantine returned close to his roots and installed his new Roman capital on the Bosphorus in Byzantium, even then the crossroads of East and West, naming it Constantinople, modern-day Istanbul.That was almost 1700 years ago, and not long after leaving on the ferry across the busy waters from Europe to Asia, the sheer magnificence of the city becomes evident. Looking behind us, the West has a distinctly Eastern feel, as the silhouettes of bridges, immense domes and myriad minarets stand out against the sunset. But Istanbul, deserves a closer look.

Most of what is of interest to a visitor is on the European side of the city, the Golden Horn. We started our trip on a drizzly afternoon in Beyoglu, the modern centre of Istanbul. Istlikal Caddalis is the wide and winding pedestrian zone running from the hectic Taksim square in the North to Galata Tower in the south. Trams like the San Franciscan cable cars trundle down the street, and I doubt the youngsters clinging to the outside rails have paid the fare. Downhill from Galata Tower is the fish market selling fresh and salty Balik Etmek sandwiches for the equivalent of €1.50. But what catches the eye most from the fish market is the teeming fishing industry itself in the form of individual fishermen, who stick to traditional methods with evidently great success from the perches of Galata bridge.

What I had heard of Istanbul prior to arriving made me wary. I expected to be lured into parting with large amounts of money in the bazaar, only to discover that my money had already been appropriated by a stealthy pickpocket. But gladly, Istanbuls reputation turned out to be made of misconceptions. As Mr Ohran pointed out to me while we were booking our tickets in the Marco Polo travel agents, the only beating I got in Istanbul was the one I paid for in the Cemberlitas baths in Sultanahmet, the oldest part of Istanbul.

We deliberated a long time as to whether it was worthwhile spending €25 each for a massage and scrub in a traditional Turkish hamman, but faced with an 11-hour bus trip that evening, the deliberations promptly came to the only acceptable outcome. Hassan smiled as he slapped the marble where he awaited me with his scrubbing glove and foam bucket. Heavily perspiring, I shuffled over and lay down on my back on the marble. Hassan signalled me to place my hands under their opposing armpit and proceeded to press my elbows apart violently causing two cracks that echoed through the heavy mist. Then turning me to my side, more joints popped lower down my back. And so it continued, as Hassan continued to wrap me in a bubble of foam, and squeeze and wring my muscles and joints into a pulp. Following this pummeling, Hassan brought me to an outside fountain where he proceeded to rip my hair out, or so it felt, and then contort my neck in impossible positions, and finally fold me in half after I had foolishly told him my lower back ached. It entirely exceeded my expectations.

One of the most memorable moments in Istanbul was chancing upon a smoking café behind a cemetery near the Grand Bazaar. We whiled away many hours smoking apple-flavoured shisha and sipping assorted sweet teas. Not having been a smoker for a long time, the shisha did hit me, and I felt a little light-headed after a few puffs and the clouds of smoke surrounding us. So walking through the bazaar, I wondered if I didn’t have amnesia when on several occasions, salesmen greeted me in the bazaar with cries of “My friend, you remember me?! Come in and have a cup of tea!” Ignoring counsel from my companion lawyer, I proceeded to meet several people who had supposedly lived in Ireland. However, I hold the softest spot for the numerous well-wishers who thought me Spanish, and called me Antonio Banderas. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I was actually Antonio Byrne-deras.

Wherever we’ve been in Istanbul, we’ve had a great time. Its thriving bazaars, majestic mosques, and all my friends who I do and don’t remember, really make Istanbul an experience I recommend to everyone, and in my humble opinion, a very deserved Capital of European, or Eurasian, culture in 2010.

PS We have uploaded most of the Istanbul pictures. See them on our Photos page under Europe > Turkey.