Music makes enemies

Ian, Jon and I are sitting in my wonderful Movenpick Towers and Suites hotel room, located on the 24th floor, on our respective computers- well, not Ian; he just stole Mel’s.

And while the atomsphere is currently tame, its bound to get a little ugly sooner rather than later. Why you may ask? Ian and Jon happen to be fairly large hip-hop fans while my tastes tend to be grounded in the 60′s and 70′s. I think I’ve presented them with a pretty fair ground between the two, but it is only a matter of time…

Ian after looking through James' iTunes

Frustration

Before getting to Doha, I’d like to post a couple final thoughts on Syria.

First, I was really impressed by the words our tour guide Osama left us with. Throughout the week, we had it repeated ad nauseam about how great Syria is and to bring this message back to America. And while his exact words escape me at this moment, I know these we not them, and I applaud him for that. Having to hear another Syrian tell us this probably would have done more harm than good.

Second (and last thought): I was frustrated that Sean and my story did not work out but I should have known from the beginning it wouldn’t come to fruition. We were going to write a story that would basically serve as a profile for the physically disabled in Syria, highlighting a movement established by President Bashar al-Assad’s wife. But we did not get anywhere in gathering information about the physically disabled. In meetings with both the president of Damascus University and the Minister of Higher Education, our questions regarding educational issues surrounding the physically disabled received the shortest answers. But like I said, I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. Syria is a developing country and just does not have the resources to devote to something that is so specialized and only affects such a small segment of their overall population.

On that note, I am closing the door on Syria, although hopefully the US government won’t do the same (just had to put that in there).

Wow

Arrived in Doha. Wow is all I have to say for now.

Off to Doha

Packing up now, leaving for Doha in a couple hours. 

I have no idea what to expect while we are there. All I know about Doha is it is an extremely rich and conservative country.

But what about the infrastructure? Will it be modern or dilapidated?

Is there going to be trash collection?

Should I still be worried about the water? 

Are they going to confiscate my sword from my checked bag?

Am I going to afford to be able to step out of the hotel, or does it cost money to breath their air?

I hope to be able to update you with the answers to these very important questions by the end of my time in Doha.

Hearts

This blog is meant to keep you, the reader, informed of what I have been doing while in the Middle East. And while I know I have failed on many fronts, I realized I have not mentioned one aspect of this trip that is so prevalent in my day-to-day life here that it would be an insult to not dedicate a blog post to it.

I am talking about Microsoft Hearts. I play it whenever my computer is on. I play it when I blog, and it is often why it takes me so long to blog. I play it when I do research. I play it when I should be sleeping. I play in my hotel room, at breakfast, in internet cafes, on flights and during bus rides. Essentially, if I have a spare moment, I am playing Hearts.

My obsession with Hearts (I am going to capitalize it just to push home the importance) began long before this trip. I’d say I’ve been a Hearts addict since I got a laptop back in the summer  of 2006. Before then, my exposure to pre-installed PC games was solitare (both regular and spider), minesweeper, pinball and free cell. And while I liked all these games, highlighted by pinball and free cell, I always could sense a void when it came to PC games.

Hearts filled that void. It gave me hope that I could procrastinate for hours without needing an Internet connection.

For me, Hearts now represents somewhat of a measuring stick, something I try and play in situations where I can look back and say, “I played Hearts there” or “I was playing Hearts when this happened”. I mean, how many people can say they’ve played Hearts on four continents?
I can.

The medical benefits of Krak

I can be an indecisive person; anyone who has gone shopping for clothes or gone to a restaurant with me can attest to this. So it should come as no surprise that I would like to retract- at least partially- my comments about wanting to return home.

What changed my mind this time? Try crack, specifically Krak de Chevaliers (someone please make sure my mom finished this sentence before fainting).

TANGENT ALERT: I really cannot explain how frustrating the Internet has been here in Syria. I have yet to successful in my attempts to upload pictures to WordPress, which just creates more work for me as I have more pictures to show when I get home. TANGENT COMPLETE

Now, this is not a place to check in for the history of this magnificent castle, as I did not stick around for the group lecture/tour offered by our tour guide, Osama. While I have no doubts this tour was very informative, as Osama has proven to be a well informed individual, I can always find what he said somewhere on the Internet.

But I would not have been able to find the exploration mission I undertook at the Krak anywhere on the Internet. Simply put, it might have been the most fun I’ve had on this trip. We explored what seemed to be every in and out the castle had to offer, although I am sure it was closer to 50 percent of the castle than 100 percent. We traversed every surface our feet could take us, from the command tower overlooking the valley surrounding the fortress to the ledge on the outside of the castle (again, someone check on Sharlene).

We threw rocks into the internal swimming pool, aiming to breakup the iceberg like algae (it measured several feet in depth underneath the water’s surface). We found a room of what I thought could have been old treasure chests, only to have my bubble burst when we realized they were just discarded floodlights. Actually, bubble burst is not the right way to present how I felt then, as nothing could take me down during this exploration.

So, now I have to ask myself: why did this day driving over two hours in a bus and climbing around a 1,000 year old castle cure my homesickness?

It could not have been enjoying the relaxing in a comfortable bed afterwards, as I can never bring myself to call another bed besides my cloud in my apartment comfortable.

It wasn’t the food we ate before going to the castle, as the chicken hardly lived up to its label “best chicken in Syria.” Maybe if it was the only chicken we ate in Syria…

I doubt a good night’s sleep played any role in altering my view of this trip, as the two wake up calls we received (neither one set up by Ian or myself) ruined any chance at getting ZZZs which would qualify as “good” in my book.

TANGENT ALERT: For me, there aren’t many things which grind my gears more than being woken up unexpectedly. I’d say it might rank at #2 on my list of annoyances, behind pitchers walking the leadoff hitter in an inning and slightly ahead of having a blanket which is too short when I sleep. TANGENT COMPLETE

So why did a day of Krak do me well? I guess it would have to be a change from what our normal routine has been while in Syria (again, sorry for the contradiction,  as my last post begged for a Warren Harding inspired return to normalcy). I did not have to hear about the occupying enemy, the burdens of the Syrian Accountability Act or the hopes for the Obama Administration. I didn’t have to listen to a lecture in which 50 percent of what is said to me will be lost within 5 minutes. I just got to turn my brain off and enjoy what I was doing.

Now, it is easy to say, “Well, James, what you are basically saying your outlook of the trip changed based on a day when you did not have to learn.”

My response to this: You are absolutely right. Meandering around an old stone structure and turning my brain off, where my highest level of thought was what kind of torture was performed on the very spot I was standing, definitely allowed me to refocus my brain from wanting to go home to realizing what an amazing experience this trip has presented to me.

So bring on the next week because after enjoying a some nice Krak rocks (I couldn’t resist), I am ready for it.

:)

Bonnaroo tickets in the mail!!!

Home, home again. I like to be here when I can.

Here is a list of dreams I’ve had over the past two nights:

1. Going to New Hampshire with Liz and being chased by Vince Vaughn from the ‘Psycho’ remake
2. Walking around Bedford trying to find a place to eat only to find all my favorite places to eat we destroyed by termites
3. Not being able to find my luggage at Logan Airport, with my family and friends in turn becoming enfuriated because I lost their gifts.
4. Eating at the long anticipated Chili’s in Lakeville
5. Being at Fenway Park and having a soccer-style riot break out because a hot dog vendor sold somebody a cheeseburger
6. Finding out Bonnaroo was cancelled (this is more of a nightmare than a dream)

Notice a theme here? Even in my dreams I cannot escape thinking about life back in the good old U S of A. With all the running around and meetings we’ve had over the past four weeks, I am dying for a return to normalcy.

I want to make Mega Meatball Pizza, light candles and watch the Sopranos with Liz. I want to listen to Pink Floyd, talk about absurd subjects and listen to more Floyd with Kyle. I want to sit on my couch, drink a Snapple Apple and watch Just Shoot Me with Rob.  I want to talk baseball, eat Chicken Lous and be lazy with Colin. I want to get an Orgasm, Bizzy Bone and Hush with Dave. I want to make fun of, yell at and take a shot with Parker.

Now, you are probably reading this and thinking, “Wow, he is having a miserable time.” That couldn’t be further from the truth. I understand this is a great, unique experience. We have access to people here in this country that most Westerners couldn’t dream of having.

But the past few days, despite meeting with different people and asking different questions, I feel like we have been told the same information: Isreal is the source of all problems, the Syrian Accountability Act is a huge burden for Syria and people have high hopes for the Obama Administration, although they want to see action before getting too hopeful.

And on that note, I am going to log off.  Really, thats it. After all this homesick bellyaching, I’ve got no effective way of ending this post so I am just going to stop typing right now.

“Home, home again. I like to be there when I can.”

Here is a list of dreams I’ve had over the past two nights:

1. Going to New Hampshire with Liz and being chased by Vince Vaughn from the ‘Psycho’ remake
2. Walking around Bedford trying to find a place to eat only to find all my favorite places to eat we destroyed by termites
3. Not being able to find my luggage at Logan Airport, with my family and friends in turn becoming enfuriated because I lost their gifts.
4. Eating at the long anticipated Chili’s in Lakeville
5. Being at Fenway Park and having a soccer-style riot break out because a hot dog vendor sold somebody a cheeseburger
6. Finding out Bonnaroo was cancelled (this is more of a nightmare than a dream)

Notice a theme here? Even in my dreams I cannot escape thinking about life back in the good old U S of A. With all the running around and meetings we’ve had over the past four weeks, I am dying for a return to normalcy.

I want to make Mega Meatball Pizza, light candles and watch the Sopranos with Liz. I want to listen to Pink Floyd, talk about absurd subjects and listen to more Floyd with Kyle. I want to sit on my couch, drink a Snapple Apple and watch Just Shoot Me with Rob.  I want to talk baseball, eat Chicken Lous and be lazy with Colin. I want to get an Orgasm, Bizzy Bone and Hush with Dave. I want to make fun of, yell at and take a shot with Parker.

Now, you are probably reading this and thinking, “Wow, he is having a miserable time.” That couldn’t be further from the truth. I understand this is a great, unique experience. We have access to people here in this country that most Westerners couldn’t dream of having.

But the past few days, despite meeting with different people and asking different questions, I feel like we have been told the same information: Isreal is the source of all problems, the Syrian Accountability Act is a huge burden for Syria and people have high hopes for the Obama Administration, although they want to see action before getting too hopeful.

And on that note, I am going to log off.  Really, thats it. After all this homesick bellyaching, I’ve got no effective way of ending this post so I am just going to stop typing right now.

Very Important People

We have been given some serious VIP treatment since we’ve arrived in Damascus. We are staying in a four-star hotel in a secluded area with access to vans provided by the Syrian Ministry of Higher Education.

This is a list of people we will have met by the end of our stay in Syria:
1. Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs (equivalent to the Deputy Secretary of State)
2. President of the National Union of Syrian Students (N.U.S.S.)
3. President of Damascus University
4. Minister of Higher Education
5. A high ranking adviser to President Bashar Al Assad

We will also get a chance to visit the Gholan Heights, no easy task for an American visitor.
But one has to wonder if all this special treatment will prevent us from getting a “true feel” of Syria. I mean, would you say someone from Syria got an accurate representation of America if they only experienced meeting the American equivalent of these people while staying in a hotel that is essentially cutoff from whatever city they were staying in?
Now I am not writing this and saying I am disappointed, because that could not be further from the truth. This is just merely food for thought.