The Middle Eastern adventure is over. As I write, I am sitting on a train heading to Belgrade, and on to Vienna. Cutting Turkey short a few days, I am heading to Austria for a brief stop-over before going finally to Prague on the morning of the 25th. What a two months it’s been.
Since my last post, I journeyed over the Dardanelles to Gallipoli and on to Istanbul for the remainder of the Turkey chapter. Gallipoli, I’m pleased to say, was the only time I have taken an organised tour on the trip. The peninsular is far too large to get about by foot, and public transport is non-existent. On the up side, a friend I’d met the day before was going to, and it was good to have someone around my own age/mindset to talk to.
I had wondered for a little while before what effect visiting Gallipoli would have on me. On the one hand, going to ANZAC Cove is the closest thing that most Australians have to the pilgrimage to Mecca. On the other, I’m not really that fond of military history, and hate the extent to which the ‘ANZAC legend’ is force-fed into everyone through school and the mass media. I still can’t decide whether I’m happy or sad that the experience elicited a fair bit of emotion. I don’t think I’ll watch an ANZAC Day ceremony the same again, for one. It was a slightly surreal experience being surrounded by a group of fellow Aussies and Kiwis, sharing some sort of collective identity being elicited by the Turkish guide. A strange thing to be standing somewhere so far from home, yet the place that so many died, and is one of the defining points of our nation.
The sites are interesting in themselves. ANZAC Cove, where 15 000 troops landed on the first day, is only around 600m long (photo). The trenches on the top of the ridge, from where there was essentially no movement in the 8 months of the campaign, were only around 8 metres apart. Go and measure eight metres somewhere. Than get a friend and throw rocks at each other for a bit, pretending they’re grenades. You’ll start to get a sense of just how close eight metres is. We learned of the decisive mistakes of the British commanders (idiots) that could have changed fate, the intentional strategy behind the conflict, and some great stories that were retold in letters from the diggers home. The guide was extremely knowledgeable. One of the defining points of the tour, however, was learning the Turkish side of the story. There’s too much to recount here, but it’s amazing in its own right. Some of the poetry and speeches relating to the battle are also extremely moving, and I’ll see if I can find a way to post them up somewhere.
I can’t decide how I feel about Istanbul, but suffice to say it’s a city with soul. The old quarter especially, Sultanahmet, brims with life, but firmly has its foot in the tourist trap market. Istanbul’s main attractions are, as you would expect, absolutely stunning. To borrow a description, the outside of the Blue Mosque (photo) seemingly tries to emulate the grandeur of the inside of the Aya Sofia, and sit only a few hundred metres apart. The Grand Bazaar, I would was a bit of a let-down. Expecting something like the markets in Islamic Cairo (tiny alleys, overhanging shops, donkeys, spirit!), the Grand Bazaar seems the missing link between Islamic Cairo and a modern shopping mall. Yes, you get to haggle, but it’s done in nice, quite sanitary, tiled and covered surrounds. And you will always get ripped off if you’re a tourist. Just accept that and move on. There are two big palaces in Istanbul: the Topkapı (Topkapa) and the Dolmabahçe (Dolmabahchè) (photo). The former had been the home of Ottoman sultans since the first half of last millennia, and is built and decorated in a purely Ottoman style. The latter was only built in the 1800s, and looks like something straight out of France. It was built in the neo-Classical European style, and has one of the most extraordinary festival halls I’ve ever seen. It rivals some of the best mosques.
There’s plenty, plenty more to say, but no room to say it. I think this will be my second last post about the journey, with the final one being in a few days after Vienna. I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll continue while I’m in Prague.
Hope all is well, and that life is enjoyable for all.
n.b. written 23 September.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Photos, diabetes, and other things Nick wıll take from Turkey.
The great benefit of travelling by your tastebuds is that it doesn’t preclude you seeing the sights as well. As such, while I still can’t really communicate with anyone very much, my times in Turkey have been packed full of sights, adventure, and puddings.
Turkey has a few big touristy spots; the fairy chimneys in Goreme, Istanbul, Ephasus. But one that wasn’t quite what I was expecting was Pamukkale. At Pamukkale, there is a spring. From this spring flows water that is packed full of minerals, but mostly calcium. The water then flows down the side of a mountain. As it does so it cools, depositing the calcium in ridges along the side of the cliff. The result is the side of a cliff cloaked in calcium, creating the travertines. Where the water formed pools, the deposits formed ledges that stretched out over the cliff and created what looked like miniature jacuzzis. So much so, in fact, that tourism during the 80s and 90s led to a line of hotels being constructed above them so that the paying public could bathe in them. Unfortunately, the construction stopped the flow of the water, and even after the demolition of the hotel the flow has not returned to its original force. Still, a magnificent sight (photo).
Then there was Ephasus (photo). Reputed to give visitors a feeling of what it would have felt like to live in a Roman town, it doesn’t fail to impress. The city’s layout is still very much apparent. The library and the 25 000 seat theatre are the two big draw cards, and draw they do. I think that one of the reasons that the site seems so whole and ‘authentic’ is the fact that the marble streets are still largely intact. While recurrent earthquakes may have ruined the buildings and shifted the stones around a bit, walking on stones where you can see the tracks of roman carriages really embellishes the connection you feel with the place.
I’ve climbed a few big hills/small mountains since my last post (my knee is now quite good): on in Izmir and one in Bergama. Atop each is a citadel. Overlooking Izmir is one of the many castles founded my Alexander the Great on his way through the region, BC. In Bergama, the walls house an acropolis; the entire ancient village is within its walls. This meant quite a lot of exploring, and amazing views. Sitting at the top after walking all the way, you realise what a good defensive strategy it is to build castles on hills. Before the invention of gunpowder, trying to breach those walls after the steep, steep hike a couple of kilometres uphill in your armour with your weapons would have been hell. It’s amazing that sometimes people succeeded. The ruins in Bergama were almost as good as those at Ephasus, though much harder to get to and around. But they somehow seemed all the more rewarding, as things do when you have to put in an enormous effort to achieve them.
Troy wasn’t that great, but it was interesting to see where Achilles killed Hector and was killed by Paris in turn (see photo of a giant wooden horse). Tomorrow I’m heading to Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove (for my little bit of nationalism). War seems to be high on the ‘to do’ list in Turkey. But I’m expecting tomorrow to really be quite moving, if only because of the amount of ANZAC propaganda Australians are fed.
I don’t know how much weight I have put on in the past week and a half, but it’s definitely there. My consumption of both chocolate and rice pudding (both of which have apparently become dessert staples in Turkey) has become quite ridiculous. I’ve also been eating 4 main meals a day. Not because it’s cheap (it’s not particularly). Not because I’m really that hungry. Just because it’s there and tastes so damn good. My culinary conquests have included imam bayildi (eggplants stuffed with a spiced, garlicky rice), gozleme (savoury pancakes filled with fetta, potato and spinach), su boregi (a Turkish cheese and parsley lasagne) and many more besides. And so, so much pudding. I really must ease up on the pudding consumption. Tomorrow.
Turkey has a few big touristy spots; the fairy chimneys in Goreme, Istanbul, Ephasus. But one that wasn’t quite what I was expecting was Pamukkale. At Pamukkale, there is a spring. From this spring flows water that is packed full of minerals, but mostly calcium. The water then flows down the side of a mountain. As it does so it cools, depositing the calcium in ridges along the side of the cliff. The result is the side of a cliff cloaked in calcium, creating the travertines. Where the water formed pools, the deposits formed ledges that stretched out over the cliff and created what looked like miniature jacuzzis. So much so, in fact, that tourism during the 80s and 90s led to a line of hotels being constructed above them so that the paying public could bathe in them. Unfortunately, the construction stopped the flow of the water, and even after the demolition of the hotel the flow has not returned to its original force. Still, a magnificent sight (photo).
Then there was Ephasus (photo). Reputed to give visitors a feeling of what it would have felt like to live in a Roman town, it doesn’t fail to impress. The city’s layout is still very much apparent. The library and the 25 000 seat theatre are the two big draw cards, and draw they do. I think that one of the reasons that the site seems so whole and ‘authentic’ is the fact that the marble streets are still largely intact. While recurrent earthquakes may have ruined the buildings and shifted the stones around a bit, walking on stones where you can see the tracks of roman carriages really embellishes the connection you feel with the place.
I’ve climbed a few big hills/small mountains since my last post (my knee is now quite good): on in Izmir and one in Bergama. Atop each is a citadel. Overlooking Izmir is one of the many castles founded my Alexander the Great on his way through the region, BC. In Bergama, the walls house an acropolis; the entire ancient village is within its walls. This meant quite a lot of exploring, and amazing views. Sitting at the top after walking all the way, you realise what a good defensive strategy it is to build castles on hills. Before the invention of gunpowder, trying to breach those walls after the steep, steep hike a couple of kilometres uphill in your armour with your weapons would have been hell. It’s amazing that sometimes people succeeded. The ruins in Bergama were almost as good as those at Ephasus, though much harder to get to and around. But they somehow seemed all the more rewarding, as things do when you have to put in an enormous effort to achieve them.
Troy wasn’t that great, but it was interesting to see where Achilles killed Hector and was killed by Paris in turn (see photo of a giant wooden horse). Tomorrow I’m heading to Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove (for my little bit of nationalism). War seems to be high on the ‘to do’ list in Turkey. But I’m expecting tomorrow to really be quite moving, if only because of the amount of ANZAC propaganda Australians are fed.
I don’t know how much weight I have put on in the past week and a half, but it’s definitely there. My consumption of both chocolate and rice pudding (both of which have apparently become dessert staples in Turkey) has become quite ridiculous. I’ve also been eating 4 main meals a day. Not because it’s cheap (it’s not particularly). Not because I’m really that hungry. Just because it’s there and tastes so damn good. My culinary conquests have included imam bayildi (eggplants stuffed with a spiced, garlicky rice), gozleme (savoury pancakes filled with fetta, potato and spinach), su boregi (a Turkish cheese and parsley lasagne) and many more besides. And so, so much pudding. I really must ease up on the pudding consumption. Tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Gobble Gobble Turkey Gobble
It’s mandatory that I make at least one pun involving Turkey. It’s a big country. It can handle it. However the title is also quite apt. I have started planning my travels a little differently to those through the rest of the Middle East. While before I had focussed on the people and the sights, I am now concentrating on the food. And what food. Turkey has a reputation that spreads throughout the region as a nation of food-lovers. Everywhere, food is either being grown or eaten. Turkey is apparently one of only a few countries in the world who can feed its population to excess and still export a substantial remainder.
So as I criss-cross the country, I’m sampling the best of the regional specialties. In Gaziantep, Baklava was the order of the day. Apparently, the best baklava shop in Gaziantep vies for the title of the best in Turkey/the world with one other in Istanbul. We’ll see how it pans out. Malatya is famous for its apricots, whether fresh, dried, mashed, whatever. A lot of the dried apricots you buy in supermarkets come from around here. While I didn’t find the fresh ones overwhelmingly different to those back home, the dried ones definitely had an added flavour. They are definitely better at the source. Kahramanmaras is known Turkey-wide for its ice-cream, mixed with the flour of an orchid root. This makes it elastic and chewy and means it can be hung off meat hooks; a taste/texture sensation worth visiting this town just to try. At present, I’m in Bursa, home of the almighty kebap (kebab). Today I saw the grave of Kebapci Iskender, the man who created the very first one. Random fact: the kebap is actually the national dish of Turkey. Something to keep in mind when you’ve had a big night out and craving some doner times. Today I also tried olives from Iznik. They are probably the best I’ve tasted, and I get the feeling that the seeming forest of olive trees surrounding the town produces much of the world’s supply. Future plans include: Afyon, where the milk and cream is apparently so good because the cows graze on legally grown opium poppies over spring; Istanbul, for its Turkish Delight and the competitor for best baklava; and more else besides. The food here is amazing. There are dessert restaurants, that’s right, dessert restaurants on every street. I’ve eaten so much baked rice pudding I would laugh, if only I could be more sure my stomach wouldn’t explode.
As for the sights and sounds, there have been a few standouts. Foremost amongst them is the underground villages in Cappadocia. I think I mentioned in a blog about Egypt that I went to an underground labyrinth cemetery and was mightily impressed. That was like a sandpit tunnel to this place. An entire village carved into the soft rock underground, complete with a winery, stables and giant communal kitchens (photo). Eight stories of interwoven passages (no grid plan, just windows and tunnels to everywhere), enough to house an entire village for up to six months if an enemy army happened to invade. It was incredible. The ‘fairy chimneys’ in Goreme were fun for a bit too. There are a few different shapes, but most form when there are two different types of rock, with the toughest being on top. As erosion occurs, this tough top layer protects the rock directly below it. The results can look like mushrooms, cones or spires (photo). They are meant to be Turkey’s big tourist puller.
In other news, my knee is getting better, either thanks to the knee-strap I ended up buying or the chiropractic advice from back home. I no longer walk like a pirate, but I’ve kept the voice because I find it amusing.
So that’s Turkey for now. Oh, and don’t bother going to Ankara. Aside from seeing Ataturk’s memorial, there’s no reason to visit. I’m heading south-west from here and plan on tracing the coast up to Istanbul. My next post may be from Troy or Gallipoli. Somewhere around there. But I really wish I was back in Brisbane instead. Really.
So as I criss-cross the country, I’m sampling the best of the regional specialties. In Gaziantep, Baklava was the order of the day. Apparently, the best baklava shop in Gaziantep vies for the title of the best in Turkey/the world with one other in Istanbul. We’ll see how it pans out. Malatya is famous for its apricots, whether fresh, dried, mashed, whatever. A lot of the dried apricots you buy in supermarkets come from around here. While I didn’t find the fresh ones overwhelmingly different to those back home, the dried ones definitely had an added flavour. They are definitely better at the source. Kahramanmaras is known Turkey-wide for its ice-cream, mixed with the flour of an orchid root. This makes it elastic and chewy and means it can be hung off meat hooks; a taste/texture sensation worth visiting this town just to try. At present, I’m in Bursa, home of the almighty kebap (kebab). Today I saw the grave of Kebapci Iskender, the man who created the very first one. Random fact: the kebap is actually the national dish of Turkey. Something to keep in mind when you’ve had a big night out and craving some doner times. Today I also tried olives from Iznik. They are probably the best I’ve tasted, and I get the feeling that the seeming forest of olive trees surrounding the town produces much of the world’s supply. Future plans include: Afyon, where the milk and cream is apparently so good because the cows graze on legally grown opium poppies over spring; Istanbul, for its Turkish Delight and the competitor for best baklava; and more else besides. The food here is amazing. There are dessert restaurants, that’s right, dessert restaurants on every street. I’ve eaten so much baked rice pudding I would laugh, if only I could be more sure my stomach wouldn’t explode.
As for the sights and sounds, there have been a few standouts. Foremost amongst them is the underground villages in Cappadocia. I think I mentioned in a blog about Egypt that I went to an underground labyrinth cemetery and was mightily impressed. That was like a sandpit tunnel to this place. An entire village carved into the soft rock underground, complete with a winery, stables and giant communal kitchens (photo). Eight stories of interwoven passages (no grid plan, just windows and tunnels to everywhere), enough to house an entire village for up to six months if an enemy army happened to invade. It was incredible. The ‘fairy chimneys’ in Goreme were fun for a bit too. There are a few different shapes, but most form when there are two different types of rock, with the toughest being on top. As erosion occurs, this tough top layer protects the rock directly below it. The results can look like mushrooms, cones or spires (photo). They are meant to be Turkey’s big tourist puller.
In other news, my knee is getting better, either thanks to the knee-strap I ended up buying or the chiropractic advice from back home. I no longer walk like a pirate, but I’ve kept the voice because I find it amusing.
So that’s Turkey for now. Oh, and don’t bother going to Ankara. Aside from seeing Ataturk’s memorial, there’s no reason to visit. I’m heading south-west from here and plan on tracing the coast up to Istanbul. My next post may be from Troy or Gallipoli. Somewhere around there. But I really wish I was back in Brisbane instead. Really.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Retro Syria
Syria
What to say about a country that all you had envisaged turned out to be incorrect. Only, I guess, that Syria is a marvel, and don’t believe the press.
To be honest, the sights in Syria are a little limited if you’re going in for the ‘old stuff’ tour. Palmyra in the East is OK, but as I said in my last post on Syria, not really worth the hassle unless you’ve got your own car and speak Arabic pretty fluently. Even then, when you’ve come from further south and seen the ruins in Jordan and Egypt, it’s a bit of a let-down. The Roman Theatre at Bosra was interesting, but I think this may have been due in part to it being the first castle-esque structure I’d fully explored.
Of far more interest is Krak des Chevaliers, the majestic crusader castle built by the French on their way to the Holy Land. The castle is epic. That’s a perfect world to describe it. From its turrets to its tunnels, this is the castle you’ve thought about when imagining knights riding into the yonder. I had the fortune of visiting on my birthday, figuring it was a suitable present, though my leg hated me for it afterwards.
But the reason you’ll enjoy Syria is not the buildings, but the people and the experiences. Far from being AK47 slinging Middle Eastern freedom haters, the people I met in Syria have been the nicest yet. When you ask them where something is, they don’t point you in the general direction; they’ll take you by the hand and walk/drive you there, all the while finding out your life story. Syria perfectly blends the friendliness of Jordan and Lebanon with the austerity of Egypt. Such a mix of genuine warmth and cheap food/transport/shopping/everything will make you want to change your trip to stay here longer.
I think the two highlights of my Syrian sojourn happened in the first half, in the south. The first was going to the hammam in Damascus, where I found out just how white I still was. I swear there would be a market for this in Australia. It’s not only a great place to go and get clean or have a massage or sauna or whatever, it’s also a really social place to just chat with people here. Nobody has their shields up, and nobody’s posing. It’s a nice change from the street, where everyone is trying to look their trendiest.
The second highlight was definitely going to Quneitra in the Golan Heights. Going to a place like this, that has been the cause of so much anger and nationalistic aggression was a little overwhelming. Everyone in Australia has heard of the Golan Heights, and its infamy follows you when you go there. It’s so easy to imagine this now deserted shell of a town as a battlefield for a conflict that’s gone on for generations. History is alive here.
As for the north, I feel a little cheated. Following doctors orders, I tried to rest as much as possible when I returned to Syria (excluding the trip to the Krak, but it was my birthday). As a result, I saw very little of Hama and Homs, two of the big cities in the north. Though from what I saw, Hama seems a relaxing place to spend a day or two. Nor did I get to go on the day trips I had planned. In Aleppo, I didn’t even go to the ‘sights’, as I was trying ridiculously hard to stay in bed resting. And for all my self-deprivation, I’m still in pain, and a little bit grumpy about it. However, it does leave me with a good excuse to come back, which I very much hope to do in the near future. It’s an amazing place, all the more so because it’s so underrated in the West.
What to say about a country that all you had envisaged turned out to be incorrect. Only, I guess, that Syria is a marvel, and don’t believe the press.
To be honest, the sights in Syria are a little limited if you’re going in for the ‘old stuff’ tour. Palmyra in the East is OK, but as I said in my last post on Syria, not really worth the hassle unless you’ve got your own car and speak Arabic pretty fluently. Even then, when you’ve come from further south and seen the ruins in Jordan and Egypt, it’s a bit of a let-down. The Roman Theatre at Bosra was interesting, but I think this may have been due in part to it being the first castle-esque structure I’d fully explored.
Of far more interest is Krak des Chevaliers, the majestic crusader castle built by the French on their way to the Holy Land. The castle is epic. That’s a perfect world to describe it. From its turrets to its tunnels, this is the castle you’ve thought about when imagining knights riding into the yonder. I had the fortune of visiting on my birthday, figuring it was a suitable present, though my leg hated me for it afterwards.
But the reason you’ll enjoy Syria is not the buildings, but the people and the experiences. Far from being AK47 slinging Middle Eastern freedom haters, the people I met in Syria have been the nicest yet. When you ask them where something is, they don’t point you in the general direction; they’ll take you by the hand and walk/drive you there, all the while finding out your life story. Syria perfectly blends the friendliness of Jordan and Lebanon with the austerity of Egypt. Such a mix of genuine warmth and cheap food/transport/shopping/everything will make you want to change your trip to stay here longer.
I think the two highlights of my Syrian sojourn happened in the first half, in the south. The first was going to the hammam in Damascus, where I found out just how white I still was. I swear there would be a market for this in Australia. It’s not only a great place to go and get clean or have a massage or sauna or whatever, it’s also a really social place to just chat with people here. Nobody has their shields up, and nobody’s posing. It’s a nice change from the street, where everyone is trying to look their trendiest.
The second highlight was definitely going to Quneitra in the Golan Heights. Going to a place like this, that has been the cause of so much anger and nationalistic aggression was a little overwhelming. Everyone in Australia has heard of the Golan Heights, and its infamy follows you when you go there. It’s so easy to imagine this now deserted shell of a town as a battlefield for a conflict that’s gone on for generations. History is alive here.
As for the north, I feel a little cheated. Following doctors orders, I tried to rest as much as possible when I returned to Syria (excluding the trip to the Krak, but it was my birthday). As a result, I saw very little of Hama and Homs, two of the big cities in the north. Though from what I saw, Hama seems a relaxing place to spend a day or two. Nor did I get to go on the day trips I had planned. In Aleppo, I didn’t even go to the ‘sights’, as I was trying ridiculously hard to stay in bed resting. And for all my self-deprivation, I’m still in pain, and a little bit grumpy about it. However, it does leave me with a good excuse to come back, which I very much hope to do in the near future. It’s an amazing place, all the more so because it’s so underrated in the West.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Ful (sic) Lebanon, mate
Usually there is some truthful basis to stereotypes. British people do seem to complain about the weather an awful lot. Americans do speak very loudly. And it seems that aspects of the Lebanese stereotype aren’t only present among those in Australia, but also those back ‘home’. First, Lebanese guys and girls around my age are constantly on their phones either talking to someone or just using it to listen to music. They are all dressed in real or fake designer clothes, and most of the cars on the road in Beirut are either hotted up or luxury. I’m not joking about this last part, so it must be something that carries over into later life. In Beirut, half of the cars are luxury of some sort (BMWs, Mercedes, Porsche, etc.), another quarter are taxis, which are also Mercedes, just from the 50s and 60s. The final quarter is comprised of what we’d call the ‘day-to-day’ cars, the commodores and falcons of the Middle East, and the hotted up youngsters. This data is based on a survey undertaken by yours truly at a sidewalk café along the Beirut cornice.
Lebanon still shows the scars of the civil war, which ended in the early 90s. There are still bullet-ridden buildings scattered around the place, no less occupied now than they would have been back then. But since the end of the war, conspicuous consumption has ruled the day. This seems to be why there are so many luxury cars and designer clothes. The Lonely Planet guide summed it up well in saying that after the war, Beirutis tried as fast as they could to start living the good life again. The bars and clubs in Beirut are among the best in the world.
I went to the south, but was unable to go to my primary target, the Al-Khiam Detention Camp where Israel held prisoners without charge as a deterrent to others. Apparently the conditions when the Red Cross were allowed in in 1995 were mind-boggling. However to console myself I went on a tour of the Ksara vineyard, which makes wines of international repute aged in barrels stored in underground tunnels (see photo), and visited the temples at Baalbek. The temple of Jupiter apparently has the largest standing columns in the world.
However the first of my two highlights of Lebanon was the Jeita Grotto, north of Beirut. In my diary I just wrote ‘amazing’ a few times, before trying (but failing) to explain just why they were so amazing. There are two giant caves (maybe 300 or 400 mitres tall) that each stretch back around 6km into this mountain. And they are FULL of stalactites and stalagmites of all shapes and sizes. Things that have been forming since before human existed. For one of the only times in my life, I was speechless. If you are in the region (Romania or the Sudan count as the region), you must come here. Cameras weren’t allowed, so I can’t show any photos. Memories will have to do.
The second highlight was visiting Al-Badawi refugee camp just outside Tripoli. I’ve never visited a refugee camp before, but as one of the sorts of places I’ve thought about working in the future, I thought I should probably check one out. There is so much to write about it, but the primary thing is that it was not what I was expecting. The camp was set up in 1952 to accommodate the first Palestinian refugees, and is currently undergoing a bit of a crisis, as fighting in another camp has seen another 30 000 people arrive. It took a day to organise clearance to talk to a number of well-placed people, but in the end I spoke to a number of people from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) and a number of refugees. I got a whole lot out of this experience, and am still in email contact with one of the guys who works there (my guide, photo attached).
Now, just so that a few of you can have a giggle at my expense, I had a couple of medical issues in Lebanon. The first was that I got conjunctivitis in Beirut, and woke up in the mornings with my eyes sealed shut. With eye-drops, this went away after a couple of days. The second is that due to the amount of exercise I’ve been doing, my left big toe and knee have decided to play up. My big toe had some bone compression issue, and my knee has become quite severely swollen. I went to the doctor and they sucked a few hundred mls of liquid out of it with a giant syringe. Then they gave me a pile of anti-inflammatories and let me go. I went to another doctor today (3 days later) because it came back. Apparently ‘rest’ doesn’t just mean ‘take more taxis and walk slowly around the castles’. He gave me more anti-inflammatories and now I am resting for a few days.
Hope you’re all thoroughly amused, as I now walk like a wooden-legged pirate, though perhaps with even more grimacing.
p.s. Also, thanks to everyone who is writing comments to my blogs. It’s nice to know people are reading and that you care enough to write comments *sob*. Please keep it up!
Lebanon still shows the scars of the civil war, which ended in the early 90s. There are still bullet-ridden buildings scattered around the place, no less occupied now than they would have been back then. But since the end of the war, conspicuous consumption has ruled the day. This seems to be why there are so many luxury cars and designer clothes. The Lonely Planet guide summed it up well in saying that after the war, Beirutis tried as fast as they could to start living the good life again. The bars and clubs in Beirut are among the best in the world.
I went to the south, but was unable to go to my primary target, the Al-Khiam Detention Camp where Israel held prisoners without charge as a deterrent to others. Apparently the conditions when the Red Cross were allowed in in 1995 were mind-boggling. However to console myself I went on a tour of the Ksara vineyard, which makes wines of international repute aged in barrels stored in underground tunnels (see photo), and visited the temples at Baalbek. The temple of Jupiter apparently has the largest standing columns in the world.
However the first of my two highlights of Lebanon was the Jeita Grotto, north of Beirut. In my diary I just wrote ‘amazing’ a few times, before trying (but failing) to explain just why they were so amazing. There are two giant caves (maybe 300 or 400 mitres tall) that each stretch back around 6km into this mountain. And they are FULL of stalactites and stalagmites of all shapes and sizes. Things that have been forming since before human existed. For one of the only times in my life, I was speechless. If you are in the region (Romania or the Sudan count as the region), you must come here. Cameras weren’t allowed, so I can’t show any photos. Memories will have to do.
The second highlight was visiting Al-Badawi refugee camp just outside Tripoli. I’ve never visited a refugee camp before, but as one of the sorts of places I’ve thought about working in the future, I thought I should probably check one out. There is so much to write about it, but the primary thing is that it was not what I was expecting. The camp was set up in 1952 to accommodate the first Palestinian refugees, and is currently undergoing a bit of a crisis, as fighting in another camp has seen another 30 000 people arrive. It took a day to organise clearance to talk to a number of well-placed people, but in the end I spoke to a number of people from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) and a number of refugees. I got a whole lot out of this experience, and am still in email contact with one of the guys who works there (my guide, photo attached).
Now, just so that a few of you can have a giggle at my expense, I had a couple of medical issues in Lebanon. The first was that I got conjunctivitis in Beirut, and woke up in the mornings with my eyes sealed shut. With eye-drops, this went away after a couple of days. The second is that due to the amount of exercise I’ve been doing, my left big toe and knee have decided to play up. My big toe had some bone compression issue, and my knee has become quite severely swollen. I went to the doctor and they sucked a few hundred mls of liquid out of it with a giant syringe. Then they gave me a pile of anti-inflammatories and let me go. I went to another doctor today (3 days later) because it came back. Apparently ‘rest’ doesn’t just mean ‘take more taxis and walk slowly around the castles’. He gave me more anti-inflammatories and now I am resting for a few days.
Hope you’re all thoroughly amused, as I now walk like a wooden-legged pirate, though perhaps with even more grimacing.
p.s. Also, thanks to everyone who is writing comments to my blogs. It’s nice to know people are reading and that you care enough to write comments *sob*. Please keep it up!
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