From Syria

I think the guy at the Internet Cafe I'm in rerouted the service through an alternative to the national provider because Internet Explorer was blocking my access to my own blog. Subversive material I imagine.

So...I'm in Damascus...alone. Zack got caught at the border without an entry stamp in his passport (because it was stolen) and the little card that was supposed to get him leave to exit the country didn't work. They sent him back to Beirut and I went on alone. This time it took me 3 minutes at the border. But I found myself heartbroken.

Now follow my steps through a strange and complex emotion. Riding to the border, we were laughing and making all sorts of plans. We were gonna dress like Arabs while the Arabs wore western clothes. We found out that Iraq is issuing tourist visas at the border, so we planned a daring venture into the heart of hell. We were gonna speak only Arabic and wander from place to place like bedouins and try to find some spirit of the Old Middle East. And now I'm alone.
I can't describe the utter dejection and futility that set in. And it's not as though I haven't traveled alone before. It's just the feeling of comraderiship and adventure, security in another person (who's much better at Arabic than I am) and the sudden evaporation of it all. I didn't hear from, him for a day, went to our planned meeting place and he didn't show up. I just got an e-mail saying the consulate told him he was going to have to stay in Lebanon for "a while." So I'm alone. And I feel nearly sick because of it.
Of course I'll still go to all the places I hoped to see, but right now, travel and sightseeing, adventure and the like is feeling more like a chore than a privilege. I guess it's a testament to friendship.
SO now I have a headscarf on and have been staying with some 2007 SINARC students who wanted to really learn Arabic and so decided to study somewhere that isn't nearly entirely English. Damascus is a wonderful choice. It's an incredible city. Mark Twain wrote better words about it than I could ever dream of, but I will say it's got the most spirit of any city I've seen since I left home (Turkish towns included). The Umayyid Mosque is stunning and the winding streets dating back uncountable millennia have so many layers of ghosts buried in them. Prices are low, nearly every shop sells antiques, and the smells are richer and fuller than anywhere else, even the open sewers.

It's hot, but not killer. Today, I realized is the exact centerpoint of the season of summer, and if this is as hot as it gets, I think I'll just survive (though I haven't reached Cairo yet). Compared to the dripping heat of Beirut, the airy heat of Damascus is nothing. I can even walk in the sun without feeling to uncomfortable. Maybe it's acclimation. At night time its too warm to sleep with covers on, but it isn't miserable per se. Tomorrow, I'm planning to go to Palmyra, supposedly one of the most spectacular landscapes of ruins in the world, out in the middle of the desert (where the sunrises are supposed to be unrivaled), and after that, I'll head south to the border. I'll see the Roman city of Bosra and then cross into Jordan. My visa runs out on Friday and i've been told they will arrest you for overstaying your visa here.
Yesterday I had about a 2 hour conversation with an art dealer about being Arab in the modern world. He told me he appreciates it sometimes, but at other times it's absolutely hell: the way Arabs are looked at by the developed world, or looked down upon, the bureaucracy and corruption of the various governments. He told me that most Arabs are quite racist towards blacks and whether they'll admit it or not, they love white people and wish they were in their shoes. He reiterated my suspicion that terrorism in the modern world is a desperate cry to reclaim power to a humiliated ethinicity, the victims of 17th-20th century colonialism. He said that religion wasn't an issue in Syria until extremely recently and that's only as backlash from the spotlight that the Lebanon situation has placed on it. And of course, he reiterated the common view of Israelis as military occupiers of Palestine, each and every citizen being a criminal. I was actually quite surprised to hear him say that because in everything else he said, he was very reasonable and spoke with the tone of a highly educated person. His wife, he said, is a professor from Italy. He me a story about trying to get on a bus with her and getting spat at by the conductor and made to wait in the sun for a half an hour. When the man came around to check passports and saw his wife was not Arab, but in fact Italian, his whole demeanor changed. THe narrator's eyes began to well up a bit when he told that story.

As for me, I've started trying to memorize the Tao. It seems I've got little else to do with myself as I walk about. Without Zach and with a panicking personality very much out of line with the Tao, I have to figure out how to regain my bearings and re-enhearten myself so I can enjoy the next 3 and a half weeks. It's one of those things where being on the road, alone, when it's hot makes you dream of the small joys you miss from home. THe places you could go with friends, your favorite cup of coffee. Meanwhile all the magic and exoticim around you dulls to a rusted antique lamp from the souq: charming at first, but ultimately cheap and pointless. It is times like these that people jump to conclusions that all people are ultimately the same, drinking tea, playing backgammon...all they want is your money or the ability to live life with their families. They say all the corruption comes from the west and all the piety and values from here, but there are swindlers in the exact same numbers as what you would find at home. It's naivity to think that by traveling somewhere you'll gain anything new except for a little more compassion for poor people, the less fortunate. But all that is just a side effect of loneliness. If Zach was here with me, every conversation would suddenly become an adventure and learning Arabic would once again become fascinating.
Ultimately, all I can say is that the external world really does seem to be a manifestation of the inside world. If you are happily occupied and surrounded by those you love, then it doesn't matter if you're home or away. Traveling is wonderful if you are in the right mental state, but so is going to class in your hometown.
Now it's a question of me reclaiming that "good state" and then once more opening my eyes to all the wonderful opportunities that are staring at me right now. I mean for God' sake, I'm in Syria! And I'm wholly unconcerned for my safety (seriously, New York doesn't feel nearly as safe as this). By Friday or Saturday, I'll be in Jordan! 5 days later, Egypt! And then Israel! So many wonderful things to see...it's just getting the inside to go along with the outside program.

I send all of my love,
tcm