I took a hot ride up to Palmyra. I met Muhammad, an employee at the hotel the SINARC students stayed at when they took their field trip out there. We practiced our linguistic aerobics and stretched our vocabularies as far as they would go and eventually we were able to reach some sort of understanding. Luckily he had a friend with a college degree in English. He helped clarify the situation. We ate huge meals spread out on a giant saucer, drank tea and smoked nargile in a bedouin tent, walked past camels and ancient ruins, chatted about travel globalization and marriage. Muhammad explained to me that he wants to get married but he can't afford it. With a dowary around $1000 and all the other expenses that go into starting a household (totaling an estimated $4000) it's just something completely out of his price range. I asked him about dating and he explained that it can be extremely difficult, and mostly it doesn't happen. You may talk to a girl in school a bit, but mostly, you know about someone through reputation and then send your mother as mediator to proposition her. I asked if he would prefer a freer, more western style of dating and he really surprised me when he said know. Herodotus did say that given the choice of any culture in the world, everyone will inevitably choose their own.
We slept in the garden under the stars and then drove up to the citadel pre-dawn to watch the sunrise, then wandered through the scorching desert scenery and saw these massive rows of still-standing Roman ruins. Then we explored the oasis for awhile. I bought a traditional robe (which I've worn instead of pants and a t-shirt ever since) and we drank tea and ate fruit and lounged around in the shade. Then we talked about economics. I tried to tell him that a large portion of the American population is quite poor and can barely get by, what with minimum wage being around 5.50. Then he looked me dead in the eye and told me he makes about 50 cents per hour. Immediately my mind flew over all the things he had paid for (and gotten offended in true Arab form when I offered to pay) and added up the number of hours that had just gone down the drain in empty pleasures at my expense. I felt so honored and heartbroken at the same time. He hit home the point that in his place, there really aren't options for following the heart. Especially with his little brother conscripted into the Army. But he also hit home the point that he truly loves his town and his desert lifestyle.
That evening I got back to Damascus and checked my e-mails and discovered that Zach had made it into Syria afterall! I was astonished and overjoyed. Back at my friends' place I found out that he had in fact called for me the night before but when he heard I had gone to Palmyra, he immediate set off and no one had heard from him since. Boulos, it turned out had 2 missed calls but we couldn't get through to the phone they came from. When we finally did, we found out Zach had left Palmyra 2 hours earlier (around 9 pm). I waited late for his call but it never came.
At 7 the next morning Boulos woke me up and handed me the phone saying "it's Zach."
We briefly made plans to meet in the far south in Bosra by an amphitheater, then he hung up. Boulos had rented a car, so we made a day of it and 4 of us drove down to Bosra, where, walking across the square, I heard Zach yell out from a restaurant and there he stood with his hands waving.
We spent the afternoon wandering around and talking (mostly about education, responsibility, what is to be done with privilege and dreams and whether opportunities should be worked for according to protocol or pursued for their own sake). Then we got a ride to a town near the border and dropped off while the rest drove back to Damascus. The of us walked across the border, but got stopped just after getting the exit stamp. We were told we would be shot if we tried to walk any further, so we had to hitchhike the 3 kilometers to the Jordan entry point. We waited for hours. Ever car was either full, had women in it, or wasn't full but was called full to avoid helping us out. Finally a Qatari man who works for Al-Jazeera picked us up and not only took us across the border, but all the way to the town of Jerash, some 30 kilometers in, where there are some famous ruins. We walked into town from there and met some locals who acquainted us with life in Jordan. Mostly they loved Jordanis (and the Lebanese) but hated all other Arabs and explained how the Jordanians are the nicest, most giving Arabs of all. And how they will be your friend and not ask for money in return. Then they walked us to the tourist police station where they assured us we could spend the night for free. We couldn't, but we did get some baba ghanouj and potatos for free. Then we slept at the base of the ruins. Around midnight a massive convoy of campers with a police escort drove by all in a flare. Then we fell back asleep.
Today we explored the ruins, started to realized how blisteringly hot it really is here, and then prepared to go to Amman. On the way, we spied gypsies and decided to wander into their camp. What began with a few girls wanting us to take their pictures swelled into a tidal wave of gypsies all crowding us and asking questions. We ended up in a tent and we played music (me on harmonica), talked Arabic, and watched interersonal relations in the gypsy social system. Lots of kids were smacked around ruthlessly, and people got into fights extremely easily, but mostly there was laughing and ribaldry all around. They gave us Pepsi, and wanted to take a seemingly infinite amount of pictures. Eventually we had to go and wandered up to the street where we caught the bus to Amman for $1 each, and discussed our reactions to the situation of the gypsy. The questions of economic responisibility to the world and active work/adventure versus systematic education were and have remained our main topics of discussion.
Anyway, now we're in Amman getting ready to call upa friend of Soumaya's grandfather who hopefully will put us up for the night. We are also debating going to Petra - it's supposed to be some of the most stunning ruins in the world, but it cost $30 to get in and really, we figure you can just look at pictures, right? So the debate will go on.
All of my love,
tcm
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