Sunday afternoon Alden and Nate began a search for an automobile. It was a multi-hour struggle, going to several car rental places with no luck. After great frustration, an automobile was finally obtained at 10:30 pm; a little manual no-frills Kia sedan. With less than a quarter tank, the first priority was to get a fill up. The reason for obtaining a car: Alden and Nate were going to attempt a whirl-wind tour of eastern Syria. And indeed, a full tank of gas was needed for heading out of Damascus.
It was about midnight when Alden and Nate left Damascus. Destination one: Palmyra ruins. Palmyra (aka "Tadmor" in Arabic) are the greatest Roman ruins in the Middle East. Arriving at 3 am, Alden and Nate set their alarm for a little before 5 am, and slept in the car on the side of the road for a couple of hours. Awake just before sun rise, Alden and Nate walked down to the ruins, which they had heard are spectacular at sun rise.
Indeed, they were. Long colonnades with enormous columns with temples, houses, tombs, and all sorts of very Roman buildings, sitting near a little oasis, rising out of the sand. All of this was glowing at the sun poked itself above the horizon, and the number of other tourists at the site could be counted on one hand. It was very Indiana Jones.
Next destination: Deir ez-Zur. This is a small city on the Euphrates river, about a 3 hour drive or so from Palmyra. But... first a little car trouble. Actually, the car wouldn't turn on, so, that counts as big car trouble. The car gave a little chug-chug-chug, then nothing. With the hood propped open, instantly dozens of citizens from the town of Palmyra (pop. 3000 or so) came over to offer their advice (most of it involved very dangerous suggestions), or to try and sell various trinkets to their captive tourist audience. The town of Palmyra's auto mechanic was called, and he quickly arrived to diagnose the situation. The car's battery was dead. (No, Alden didn't leave the lights on or anything like that, it was just a crappy battery, ok!?)
The mechanic, Alden, and the car renter back in Damascus engaged in some complex, multi-lingual bargaining on Alden's cell phone, where the price continued to rise from an original 2000 lira ($40) to a grand total of 3700 lira (nearly twice as much as $40). Luckily the renter was willing to reimburse the road-trippers upon their return to Damascus. New battery installed, it was now time to head to Deir ez-Zur. Driving in daylight for the first time on the trip, an appreciation was gained for how very in the middle of nowhere Alden and Nate were. It is the desert. Very much so. Thank goodness that the car trouble occurred at Palmyra, and not on the side of the road during a photo taking stop!
Side note: Alden won the cow game.
Given their lack of much sleep the previous night, and the long morning of Roman ruins exploration and automobile drama, Alden and Nate splurged, and got a room at the second nicest hotel in Deir ez-Zur, the Zaid ($45, includes a breakfast). Deir ez-Zur is a pretty wild town- the demographic include a healthy mix of Islam and Christianity- and every few minutes there would be a gun shot or two in the distance. The out-of-date Lonely Planet guide really skimped on their Deir ez-Zur research, but dinner was found following a healthy nap at the Zaid. Sitting in a restaurant with a patio right on the Euphrates, much food was consumed to the sound of frogs making that crazy frog noise. It was also pretty humid, quite a change from Damascus.
A full night's sleep, and Alden and Nate were off to Dura Europos and Mari. Amazingly, for the first time ever over the entire summer, a Syrian helped Alden and Nate by looking at a map, and pointing out where they were, and which streets they should take. Syrians don't really do maps... It had been a running joke that if lost, the road trippers would simply show their map to a local Syria for directions.
Two hours south of Deir ez-Zur, Dura Europos is a huge Hellenistic/Roman fortress city. A bit removed from the main road to Abu Kamal, the site has an enormous wall on one side of a large piece of land jutting out over the Euphrates. Inside were some ruins in pretty good shape, including the world's oldest known dated Christian church. Nate and Alden were the only people at the ruins; there was no one at the ticket booth either. A couple of hours of exploration and a quick dip by Nate in the Euphrates later, it was time to roll on towards Mari. (Nate smelled like the Euphrates for the rest of the day.) When they were exiting the ruins, a man was at the ticket booth, so Alden and Nate paid their 20 cents, and took off. But they were not alone. A green SUV sitting in the parking lot started trailing them; the friendly neighborhood secret police mukhabarat escort.
The mukhabarat's purpose is mostly to keep goof ball tourists safe, and they followed Alden and Nate as they drove down to Mari. The ruins at Mari are 5000 years old, and the city ended being the biggest in the region following Hammurabi's sacking in 1758 BC. Mercifully in the shade, Mari was explored and photographed.
Now comes a very interesting point in the trip. Alden and Nate are two hours from Deir ez-Zur, and then at least another seven hours from Damascus, where they need to be back that night. But Alden is really curious about the nearby town of Abu Kamal... The road trippers approach their mukhabarat escort, and inform them they are going to head into Abu Kamal, if its ok, to get some food/drink. Begrudgingly, the mukhabarat allow them to continue.
Abu Kamal is the small border town with Iraq. It is filled with all sorts of characters, to put it politely. Pulling over at a small shop, Alden and Nate first check with their mukhabarat escort if they would like any snacks. They decline, but Alden buys them some frozen chocolate bars anyways. The road trippers now ask if the mukhabarat wouldn't mind leading them to the closest gas station.
Topping off their Kia, the road trippers, who now have a bit of rapport with the mukhabarat, ask if before they head back to Deir ez-Zur, would the mukhabarat mind showing them the border crossing? "Of course, we will not take any pictures, don't worry, thanks so much!" Winding through the town behind the mukhabarat, Alden and Nate arrive at the border. They chat with the border guards for a bit. Only 5 or 6 cars per day make the crossing. And the barracks with American soldiers are pointed out on the other side. The road trippers are not allowed to get close enough to say hello to the Americans stationed on the border, and it is encouraged that they had best be on their way, if they don't mind.
Rolling out of town back towards Deir ez-Zur, a new pair of mukhabarat escort Alden and Nate. Lunch is obtained at the same place on the Euphrates where they had dinner the night before, this time in the A/C-ed interior. Before embarking on the seven hour trek back to Damascus, caffeinated sodas were obtained, including two cokes for the new mukhabarat, who then give the road trippers a ride back to their car in the back of their mukhabarat pick-up truck. Fun times!
The trip back from Deir ez-Zur was grueling. Nate can't drive stick shift, so Alden was getting a bit tired with all the driving. Hard-charging through the desert, only once did Alden make a wrong turn, and it happened to be onto the only other road towards Baghdad... quickly remedied, Alden and Nate made it back to Damascus in alive and well just before midnight, extremely exhausted. Alden slept until one pm today, and he will probably take a nap in a little bit.
---
The author, as usual, feels bad about all the passive voice, but there isn't much he is willing to do about it right now.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
The Lebanon
On Thursday afternoon, Alden, with house mates Nate and Geoff, headed out of Damascus with the mission of going to Lebanon. A taxi was found, and quickly they were at the Syria-Lebanon Border. Getting out of Syria into no-man's land was easy enough, but the Lebanon customs was nothing short of a circus. Alden has done a few crazy passages through customs, but this one took the cake. The three "lines" for non-Arab foreigners was a rugby scrum which turned into chaos as one of the lines closed with no warning. Then another line closed. So it was one very grumpy customs official, who would yell at the line and storm off to cool down every once in a while. The "line" was filled with tourists attempting to make happy hour in Beirut, and dozens of taxi drivers attempting to get their fares to the front of the line. Over two hours of sweating and pushing in the fly infested customs house later, Alden et al finally had their necessary stamps to make it through the border. Infuriated, having been "cut" in line oh so many times, Alden was ready to throw down. Luckily, he didn't punch/bite/kick/head-butt anyone, and the crew stopped at the first gas station to buy some victory beers.
Alden's charm wasn't getting any affordable hotel prices in Beirut, but they did run into Jeremy and Alena, a delightful couple who are students at the American University in Beirut. They generously offered the crew (who they had never met before!) their hospitality: a couch and room on the floor! Amazing luck! Jeremy is a kind former Marine finishing up undergrad at AUB while his wife, Alena gets her MA in public health. Alden doesn't feel short very often, but Jeremy, at 6 foot 7, is a pretty large human. Kind mid-westerners both, their hospitality was well appreciated: Their top floor apartment overlooks the bay and Beirut- stunning views. They also have two cats: One, white with a few black spots named "Adolpha" (by its previous owner) since one of the black spots was a perfect replica of the Fuhrer's soup-strainer.
Friday: Nate and Alden walked down to the Pigeon Rocks where Nate got soaked by an errant wave. In the afternoon, Geoff woke up and the three went to a nearby super market to buy sandwich fixin's. This may not sound like a big deal, but it was. Ham, real cheese, and hot sauce was obtained- all three not possible in Damascus. They walked around Beirut's downtown; saw amazingly gorgeous new buildings only a few blocks away from building that haven't been rebuilt since the war. Quite a contrast; shot up buildings and structures that rival Chicago or New York's most recent buildings.
Side note: The Lebanon police force just obtained a fleet of Dodge Chargers. Sort of stick out like Amman's police driving Crown Victorias. Also, Alden had never seen so many Porsche Cayenne's in one place. Beirut probably has the widest variety in cars Alden has ever seen, from high-end European, Japanese, and American cars, to the cheapest Korean and Chinese models, to the old Mercedes beaters that roam around as taxis.
Side note within a side note: Alden wears seat belts. And in the old Mercedes taxis, he might have been the first person to use the seat belt since the late 60s or early 70s. This resulted in a hilarious stain on his shirt from years of exhaust, trapped in the seat belt mechanism, wiped onto his belly.
Afternoon: Down town, Alden went to the Haagen Dazs. They were offering a special: The "Reconciliation Cone." Alden wondered what the hell post-civil-war faux-let's-be-friends corporate advertising BS this was, but he was very wrong. This adventure in raspberry-cheesecake icecream with fresh raspberries and raspberry sauce was named the "Reconciliation Cone" to raise awareness of the recent struggles in the Doha round of WTO negotiations. Wow, it was delicious, and a cause Alden supports!
Dinner was obtained at Bardo- amazing dinner (with many drinks!) for 7 came to $150. So it is possible to eat like champions without breaking the bank!
Side note: Friday, Alden zipped his pants into shorts, since shorts are social acceptable in this part of the Middle East! His legs got really burned. What an idiot.
Saturday, Alden headed up to Byblos (solo mission; Nate and Geoff went back to Damascus). In the traffic jam leaving the city there were lots of young entrepreneurs selling water, toys, and best of all: pet goldfish in little aquariums! These brave fish dealers had to dodge the little motorbikes that wind their way through traffic with amazing/reckless agility.
Side note: Alden noticed that the cedar tree on the Lebanese flag isn't standardized between flags. Sometimes there is a central trunk, sometimes not. The tree varies quite a bit. Odd.
Byblos is a quiet little town north of Beirut. It has a wee little port from the days of yore, not bigger than three football fields or so with about 50 or 60 little boats. There is a castle, right on the shore, and the town is very pretty. Alden got a burger, beers, and read a new Economist magazine overlooking the port. Rough day.
Back in Beirut, dinner was obtained in the form of a sandwich from a hole in the wall place near AUB. Alden got a taxi downtown, and attempted to find a suitable desert. He first tried Haagen Dazs again (that Doha reconciliation special was GOOD), but on weekend nights you need a reservation. At Haagen Dazs? Really people? A reservation? So nearby Alden found a table, and a desert crepe was obtained, and consumed. Alden loves crepes.
Side note: There were several restaurants with large TVs and projection screens showing, (live?) Oprah. Oprah was righteously dispensing marriage advice (she has never been married); Alden sought a restaurant sans Oprah.
Alden got up nice and early on Sunday to head back to Damascus. In a large (new) Mercedes, Alden ceded the front seat to a very small Iraqi grandmother. Near the border, the driver picked up a soldier. This was a very clever move: The soldier works at the customs! And he took the taxi's passports, and in under five minutes, the exit stamps were obtained, and the taxi en route again. Alden poked his head into the customs/immigration house. It was the familiar madhouse from entering Lebanon. For the brilliance in picking up the soldier, (saving hours of waiting) Alden tipped the driver about $4 (he requested $2 for his actions).
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Aleppo Report
Alden didn't see too much of Aleppo when he had first arrived- it was nearly sunset, and he focused on finding a hotel and foodstuffs (and beers at The Baron). The next morning Alden seized the day and headed right into the famed Aleppo Souq. It was an assault on all five senses. The Damascus market is tamer than shopping in Bethesda, by way of comparison. There are several parallel narrow streets running east-west, and then lots of little streets running in every random direction. It was extremely medieval, foreign, and exhausting.
Mercifully, most of the souq is covered with arching masonry or corrugated iron. It was above 40 degrees Celsius (that's about 200,000 degrees Fahrenheit, aka "Freedom Degrees"), so the covered aspect of the souq is well appreciated. Alden didn't buy much at the souq; it is mostly household goods. Since Wallmart hasn't made its way to Syria, this is where everyone buys everything. His favorite item (which he did not buy, and now regrets) was a gorgeous leather carrying case for an AK 47, with two side pockets shaped perfectly to hold your spare banana clips. It could have made a great briefcase.
Near the souq is the Aleppo citadel. You would think that Alden is getting sick of castles, but Alden's inner child will NEVER be sick of castles. The Aleppo citadel is on a very commanding hill that overlooks the whole of the city. It has a huge moat, and there is only one narrow bridge to approach the entrance. The doorway is to the right, at a 90 degree angle, once you cross the bridge; this would have prevented the use of a battering ram. Very clever.
After the citadel Alden attempted to find the famed Aleppo soap factory. He was being silly and attempting to use a map. What a goof. Finally he started asking people; this works much better. The soap factory was closed, but across the street is a perfectly intact hospital/insane asylum from the middle ages, the "Bimaristan Arghan." Wow, Alden is glad he wasn't sick or an insane person in the middle ages. The patient rooms have very tall 20 foot ceilings, but they have a 4x4 foot floor plan. Overall, gorgeous architecture, and a nice reminder how far modern medical treatment has come. (But don't get Alden started about the faults involved in fMRI or the silliness of the DSM-IV.)
Dinner was acquired again at the hole in the wall place; chicken and rice, etc. Alden splurged and got humus as well; total of $4, including a Miranda soda ("ma fitamin C!").
The next morning: Alden hires a car to drive him out to Qa'ala Simeon. This is a giant Byzantine structure devoted to Saint Simeon, who was something of a huge celebrity in the 5th century. He was a very pious individual- so pious that he lived on a giant pillar, some 18 meters tall. He prevented himself from falling at night by chaining his neck to the pillar. This guy attracted pilgrims to visit him from all over Christiandom. And it got Alden to hire a cabby from Aleppo. After seeing what is left of Simeon's pillar (not much is left due to pillar-chipping pilgrims) and admiring the basillica remains, Alden toured a few of the nearby "Dead Cities" and got inside of a Roman general's tomb. He was Indiana Jones-ing pretty much all morning. The Dead Cities are pretty odd places- they are exactly what they are named. But Alden nearly died with fright when he entered an old church that had a cow in it. Not missing a beat, he screamed, "I win the Cow Game!" The cab driver was confused.
Then, and this was a blast, Alden got to drive the taxi around for a bit through the Aleppo countryside. Built in Iran, the 1.1 liter "Saba" has no airbags, seatbelts, or power anything. But dang, if it wasn't fun to drive. The little 1.1 liter engine doesn't have too much trouble pushing the car around, since it is quite light, probably made out of balsa wood and cardboard. Once he was back in Aleppo, Alden was ready to get gone, so he got the first bus leaving the station.
Important lesson learned: Make sure the bus goes directly to Damascus, otherwise you make stops in Homs and Homa, making the trip hours longer than necessary.
Alden had the front-row seat in the bus, and 30 minutes after leaving Aleppo, the bus smashed into a small blue Datsun pickup truck that swerved infront of the bus to (perhaps) dodge an oncoming motorcycle that was driving in the breakdown lane. The pickup wasn't too messed up, but Alden, like all the adult males, got out to inspect the damage. Loud arguements about the fault of the accident went on for a while between the bus, truck, and motorcycle drivers, and all the adult male passengers. Finally the bus got underway again. Alden, now very exhausted, got a "Zinger" sandwich from Winner's (fried chicken, cheese, and salami), and a bottle of wine, which he drank with a straw (in homage to Mr. Tyler).
Mercifully, most of the souq is covered with arching masonry or corrugated iron. It was above 40 degrees Celsius (that's about 200,000 degrees Fahrenheit, aka "Freedom Degrees"), so the covered aspect of the souq is well appreciated. Alden didn't buy much at the souq; it is mostly household goods. Since Wallmart hasn't made its way to Syria, this is where everyone buys everything. His favorite item (which he did not buy, and now regrets) was a gorgeous leather carrying case for an AK 47, with two side pockets shaped perfectly to hold your spare banana clips. It could have made a great briefcase.
Near the souq is the Aleppo citadel. You would think that Alden is getting sick of castles, but Alden's inner child will NEVER be sick of castles. The Aleppo citadel is on a very commanding hill that overlooks the whole of the city. It has a huge moat, and there is only one narrow bridge to approach the entrance. The doorway is to the right, at a 90 degree angle, once you cross the bridge; this would have prevented the use of a battering ram. Very clever.
After the citadel Alden attempted to find the famed Aleppo soap factory. He was being silly and attempting to use a map. What a goof. Finally he started asking people; this works much better. The soap factory was closed, but across the street is a perfectly intact hospital/insane asylum from the middle ages, the "Bimaristan Arghan." Wow, Alden is glad he wasn't sick or an insane person in the middle ages. The patient rooms have very tall 20 foot ceilings, but they have a 4x4 foot floor plan. Overall, gorgeous architecture, and a nice reminder how far modern medical treatment has come. (But don't get Alden started about the faults involved in fMRI or the silliness of the DSM-IV.)
Dinner was acquired again at the hole in the wall place; chicken and rice, etc. Alden splurged and got humus as well; total of $4, including a Miranda soda ("ma fitamin C!").
The next morning: Alden hires a car to drive him out to Qa'ala Simeon. This is a giant Byzantine structure devoted to Saint Simeon, who was something of a huge celebrity in the 5th century. He was a very pious individual- so pious that he lived on a giant pillar, some 18 meters tall. He prevented himself from falling at night by chaining his neck to the pillar. This guy attracted pilgrims to visit him from all over Christiandom. And it got Alden to hire a cabby from Aleppo. After seeing what is left of Simeon's pillar (not much is left due to pillar-chipping pilgrims) and admiring the basillica remains, Alden toured a few of the nearby "Dead Cities" and got inside of a Roman general's tomb. He was Indiana Jones-ing pretty much all morning. The Dead Cities are pretty odd places- they are exactly what they are named. But Alden nearly died with fright when he entered an old church that had a cow in it. Not missing a beat, he screamed, "I win the Cow Game!" The cab driver was confused.
Then, and this was a blast, Alden got to drive the taxi around for a bit through the Aleppo countryside. Built in Iran, the 1.1 liter "Saba" has no airbags, seatbelts, or power anything. But dang, if it wasn't fun to drive. The little 1.1 liter engine doesn't have too much trouble pushing the car around, since it is quite light, probably made out of balsa wood and cardboard. Once he was back in Aleppo, Alden was ready to get gone, so he got the first bus leaving the station.
Important lesson learned: Make sure the bus goes directly to Damascus, otherwise you make stops in Homs and Homa, making the trip hours longer than necessary.
Alden had the front-row seat in the bus, and 30 minutes after leaving Aleppo, the bus smashed into a small blue Datsun pickup truck that swerved infront of the bus to (perhaps) dodge an oncoming motorcycle that was driving in the breakdown lane. The pickup wasn't too messed up, but Alden, like all the adult males, got out to inspect the damage. Loud arguements about the fault of the accident went on for a while between the bus, truck, and motorcycle drivers, and all the adult male passengers. Finally the bus got underway again. Alden, now very exhausted, got a "Zinger" sandwich from Winner's (fried chicken, cheese, and salami), and a bottle of wine, which he drank with a straw (in homage to Mr. Tyler).
Saladin's Castle & the 3:40 Local to Aleppo
Alden awoke well rested from a night of deep Tylenol PM induced slumber and checked out of "Hotel Riad" with the goal of seeing Saladin's Castle. A quick taxi ride to the minibus station, and the adventure of finding the correct "service" to Al Haffa. It didn't take too long, and for about 40 American cents, Alden was off to a wee little town 45 minutes outside of Latakia.
Arriving in Al Haffa, Alden (the only non-Syrian on the servica) was quickly bombarded by taxi drivers to take him to Saladin's Castle. They wanted at least 400 Syrian pounds (around 8 dollars) for the 7 kilometer drive, so Alden bluffed, and said, whatever, he would just walk there. This is difficult to bluff, since it was really hot already, and the walk is rather a gruelling down/up a huge valley. But then a guy on a motorcycles offered the ride for 100 syrian pounds. Sure, why not. So Alden hops on, and the motorcycle tears off like a bat out of hell. Then, just when Alden and his driver are far enough away from the town to make walking back a real hassle, the driver wants to renegotiate the price. First he says 200. (Note: It is very difficult to bargain or negotiate from the back of a motorcycles.) Then the driver wants 300 because he will need to wait for Alden to visit the castle. Given the precarious nature of the motorcycle speeding through the valley's switchbacks, Alden finally agrees to 300, if only to get the driver to please pay some damn attention to the road. Every few moments the driver would double-check that 300 would be the agreed fare, and Alden's only means of convincing him was with a further increase in volume. But motorcycles are fun, and Alden is ok parting with $6 to get to the castle (and back).
Saladin's Castle was simply amazing. Alden was the only tourist at the site, and he explored everywhere, especially the very dangerous-to-climb closed-off areas. The ticket salesman went back to bed after letting Alden in, so with this freedom Alden got to the top of every wall and tower he could.
Please note: http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/going_to_tops_of_things?utm_source=onion_rss_daily
The castle overlooks heavily wooden ravines with some very steep drops; just incredible. An hour of sweating and photography and Alden was ready to head back to town. The price was again confirmed at 300, and then the driver wanted to talk politics... Speeding back to town, the driver listed the Georges that he liked, even though he didn't care much for George W. Bush. George Foreman (of grill fame) was his favorite George. Alden couldn't really disagree with that.
Once back in Latakia, Alden went to the train station to purchase a ticket to Aleppo. Alden splurged and spent 70 pounds to ride in first class (about a dollar and a half...). This train ride was recommended by Alden's out-of-date Lonely Planet and several other folks Alden has talked with.
And indeed it was worth it. A four hour train ride through amazingly scenic northern Syria. It starts to look like southern Spain- very pretty- lots of little trees in a row, olives perhaps? The train left on time- two minutes early, actually- but Alden was of course at the station half an hour ahead of time. In Aleppo, Alden attempted to bargain down a room at The Baron Hotel, but this time his charm didn't quite work. So he settled for a rather nice clean room at the nearby "Tourist Hotel," which was highly rated by his out-of-date Lonely Planet. This hotel is in the (very classy...) tire district of Aleppo. Tires for cars, trucks, tractors, anything with wheels. But his room was in a quiet section of the hotel, and Alden brought a bunch of ear plugs with him, anyways. (Which is good, since most Syrians ascribe to the "Honk First, Break Second" style of driving.)
Once settled in his hotel, Alden began to seek out food. He found a hole in the wall joint that serves fried chicken and the best rice he has ever had, ever, to a primarily dishdasha wearing crowd. Alden witnessed double-digit health code violations, but dang, that chicken was GOOD.
Alden was then off to The Baron Hotel to get a drink. The Baron Hotel has had many notable guests over the years: T.E. Lawrence, Charles Lindbergh, Agatha Christie, and Alden's favorite Roosevelt, Teddy. And now Alden.
Arriving in Al Haffa, Alden (the only non-Syrian on the servica) was quickly bombarded by taxi drivers to take him to Saladin's Castle. They wanted at least 400 Syrian pounds (around 8 dollars) for the 7 kilometer drive, so Alden bluffed, and said, whatever, he would just walk there. This is difficult to bluff, since it was really hot already, and the walk is rather a gruelling down/up a huge valley. But then a guy on a motorcycles offered the ride for 100 syrian pounds. Sure, why not. So Alden hops on, and the motorcycle tears off like a bat out of hell. Then, just when Alden and his driver are far enough away from the town to make walking back a real hassle, the driver wants to renegotiate the price. First he says 200. (Note: It is very difficult to bargain or negotiate from the back of a motorcycles.) Then the driver wants 300 because he will need to wait for Alden to visit the castle. Given the precarious nature of the motorcycle speeding through the valley's switchbacks, Alden finally agrees to 300, if only to get the driver to please pay some damn attention to the road. Every few moments the driver would double-check that 300 would be the agreed fare, and Alden's only means of convincing him was with a further increase in volume. But motorcycles are fun, and Alden is ok parting with $6 to get to the castle (and back).
Saladin's Castle was simply amazing. Alden was the only tourist at the site, and he explored everywhere, especially the very dangerous-to-climb closed-off areas. The ticket salesman went back to bed after letting Alden in, so with this freedom Alden got to the top of every wall and tower he could.
Please note: http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/going_to_tops_of_things?utm_source=onion_rss_daily
The castle overlooks heavily wooden ravines with some very steep drops; just incredible. An hour of sweating and photography and Alden was ready to head back to town. The price was again confirmed at 300, and then the driver wanted to talk politics... Speeding back to town, the driver listed the Georges that he liked, even though he didn't care much for George W. Bush. George Foreman (of grill fame) was his favorite George. Alden couldn't really disagree with that.
Once back in Latakia, Alden went to the train station to purchase a ticket to Aleppo. Alden splurged and spent 70 pounds to ride in first class (about a dollar and a half...). This train ride was recommended by Alden's out-of-date Lonely Planet and several other folks Alden has talked with.
And indeed it was worth it. A four hour train ride through amazingly scenic northern Syria. It starts to look like southern Spain- very pretty- lots of little trees in a row, olives perhaps? The train left on time- two minutes early, actually- but Alden was of course at the station half an hour ahead of time. In Aleppo, Alden attempted to bargain down a room at The Baron Hotel, but this time his charm didn't quite work. So he settled for a rather nice clean room at the nearby "Tourist Hotel," which was highly rated by his out-of-date Lonely Planet. This hotel is in the (very classy...) tire district of Aleppo. Tires for cars, trucks, tractors, anything with wheels. But his room was in a quiet section of the hotel, and Alden brought a bunch of ear plugs with him, anyways. (Which is good, since most Syrians ascribe to the "Honk First, Break Second" style of driving.)
Once settled in his hotel, Alden began to seek out food. He found a hole in the wall joint that serves fried chicken and the best rice he has ever had, ever, to a primarily dishdasha wearing crowd. Alden witnessed double-digit health code violations, but dang, that chicken was GOOD.
Alden was then off to The Baron Hotel to get a drink. The Baron Hotel has had many notable guests over the years: T.E. Lawrence, Charles Lindbergh, Agatha Christie, and Alden's favorite Roosevelt, Teddy. And now Alden.
Kasab & Latakia
7/17:
In the morning Alden finally got around to visiting the Sayyid Rouqaya mosque. It is right next to the house he was staying in, and it was a sight to behold. Funded by the Iranians, it looks like something out of Las Vegas. There was some singing going on, which was a little crazy to watch. Speaking of singing, in the evening Alden went back to the Citadel for another concert. Pink Martini was playing. This is the band that does the hilarious song, (in French), "I don't want to work, I don't want to eat, I just want to smoke." Alden has always liked that song- it is so very French; it was fantastic to see it played live. Good times were had.
Then at 4 am on 7/18:
Alden was awake (somehow) and heading to the bus stop to head up to Kasab. This is a town in the most northwest corner of Syria, just below Turkey. Alden headed up with the following crew: Rahit (from London-ish), Sara (who baked amazing cookies), Sophie ("The worst Canadian ever" who packed for the weekend by using three purses), and S. (A great Syrian guy, who brought the Nargila). Kassab is a mostly Armenian village of roughly 3000 people. It is amazing- it is in a temperate region of Syria- i.e. there are trees! and it is green! The bus ride was 4 hours to Latakia, and the driver smoked despite the numerous no smoking signs. whatever. Then a little "Service" minibus taxi up to Kasab. The little bus sped around narrow switchbacks and mountain roads way too fast to even be considered remotely sane. But Alden et al. arrived alive.
Adlen spent the afternoon on the porch of their rented apartment drinking several too many Lebanese beers (Almaza- "The Diamond) and smoking Nargila. The view was spectacular. Dinner was on the roof of the one major hotel in town, and when heading back to the apartment, they ran into the greasy landlord who finally returned their passports. They were sitting on the dashboard of this car, which Alden has always considered the pinnacle of security. Geeze. Alden was then in bed (which was almost long enough for his mammoth-by-Syrian-standards frame) to prepare for...
7/19:
The crew headed to the same restaurant where they had lunch the previous day to attempt to get breakfast. A waiter sits them down and brings out bottled water and a box of napkins (both which you pay for...). Then after a nice long wait they are informed that the restaurant doesn't actually serve breakfast. Great, thanks for the water, but Alden needed some breakfast. So the crew heads next door, where the power is out, but they have croissants! We don't care that the powers is out- give us the croissants! Alden is a patient guy, but less so when he is hungry in the morning. Syrian restaurants always seem to have dozens of extra people working in them than would be needed, but this does not mean that things get done quickly. Alden nearly reaches behind the counter to grab a damn croissant himself, but finally it arrives.
After breakfast the crew headed out to the Fromloq Forest for an hour of hiking. It could have been West Virginia; it was so perfectly green. On the way back to the hired taxi, Alden, walking in front, nearly stepped on an 8 foot long snake, as thick as his arm. Alden screamed, and the snake slithered away. It was later confirmed that the snake wasn't of a poison variety, but indeed it was still terrifying at the time.
From the Forest to the beach! An amazing drive from Kasab down a narrow valley with crazy switchbacks to a very little rocky beach, where Syria hits Turkey. So Alden immediately jumps in the water, and a 300 meter swim later, he was in Turkey! The Syrian side was rocky, but there was lots of picnic goers hanging around, and a few people swimming. No one on the Turkey side, where the beach was nice and sandy (that's how you know where Turkey starts, the rocks immediately end). Alden had heard that there are guards to prevent this unauthorized swim between Syria and Turkey, but Alden was unbothered.
Lunch was a bit south, right on the beach. Alden split from the group at Latakia, where he will spend the night. The rest headed back to Damascus, since they have jobs/classes/obligations. Tomorrow Alden will try and find his way to Saladin's Castle and then to Aleppo. He is staying in a hotel that is twice as expensive as his out of date Lonely Planet guide said it would be, but it has clean beds and air conditioning! Alden hasn't slept with AC since arriving in the Middle East, and $20 is a fair price for this, no? Latakia is a port city, and it is a bit extremely humid, so the A/C will be nice.
Side note 1:
Alden often wonders, "Why isn't it socially acceptable for men to wear shorts around here?!?" It is so damn hot, and Alden's pants (the only pair he brought with him!) zip into shorts... Alden looks even more like a Gringo as his light gray t-shirt goes dark with sweat in about .03 seconds. The sweat drenching would be delayed if he could zip off the legs of his pants and turn them into shorts. Alas, it just can't be like that.
Side note 2:
Alden's been going to Hammams. These are great ways to clean up, since a hot water shower is usually a very tall order. They also involve receiving 1) a scrub-down and 2) a massage. The scrub-down is typically given by a fat little man who uses a cheesegrater and some soap, and nearly makes Alden bleed. This is followed by a massage given by the large man in booty shorts. Alden didn't even know his bones could crack like that. Wow, the whole thing feels amazing, once it is over.
Side note 3:
Alden learned things about Canada this weekend from Sophie. Mainly, that Canadians call hats "touques." This, Alden is convinced, is a Canadian shibboleth. This has been duly noted just in case Alden is drafted into the military when Pres. Obama invades Canada to get their inexpensive generic drugs.
In the morning Alden finally got around to visiting the Sayyid Rouqaya mosque. It is right next to the house he was staying in, and it was a sight to behold. Funded by the Iranians, it looks like something out of Las Vegas. There was some singing going on, which was a little crazy to watch. Speaking of singing, in the evening Alden went back to the Citadel for another concert. Pink Martini was playing. This is the band that does the hilarious song, (in French), "I don't want to work, I don't want to eat, I just want to smoke." Alden has always liked that song- it is so very French; it was fantastic to see it played live. Good times were had.
Then at 4 am on 7/18:
Alden was awake (somehow) and heading to the bus stop to head up to Kasab. This is a town in the most northwest corner of Syria, just below Turkey. Alden headed up with the following crew: Rahit (from London-ish), Sara (who baked amazing cookies), Sophie ("The worst Canadian ever" who packed for the weekend by using three purses), and S. (A great Syrian guy, who brought the Nargila). Kassab is a mostly Armenian village of roughly 3000 people. It is amazing- it is in a temperate region of Syria- i.e. there are trees! and it is green! The bus ride was 4 hours to Latakia, and the driver smoked despite the numerous no smoking signs. whatever. Then a little "Service" minibus taxi up to Kasab. The little bus sped around narrow switchbacks and mountain roads way too fast to even be considered remotely sane. But Alden et al. arrived alive.
Adlen spent the afternoon on the porch of their rented apartment drinking several too many Lebanese beers (Almaza- "The Diamond) and smoking Nargila. The view was spectacular. Dinner was on the roof of the one major hotel in town, and when heading back to the apartment, they ran into the greasy landlord who finally returned their passports. They were sitting on the dashboard of this car, which Alden has always considered the pinnacle of security. Geeze. Alden was then in bed (which was almost long enough for his mammoth-by-Syrian-standards frame) to prepare for...
7/19:
The crew headed to the same restaurant where they had lunch the previous day to attempt to get breakfast. A waiter sits them down and brings out bottled water and a box of napkins (both which you pay for...). Then after a nice long wait they are informed that the restaurant doesn't actually serve breakfast. Great, thanks for the water, but Alden needed some breakfast. So the crew heads next door, where the power is out, but they have croissants! We don't care that the powers is out- give us the croissants! Alden is a patient guy, but less so when he is hungry in the morning. Syrian restaurants always seem to have dozens of extra people working in them than would be needed, but this does not mean that things get done quickly. Alden nearly reaches behind the counter to grab a damn croissant himself, but finally it arrives.
After breakfast the crew headed out to the Fromloq Forest for an hour of hiking. It could have been West Virginia; it was so perfectly green. On the way back to the hired taxi, Alden, walking in front, nearly stepped on an 8 foot long snake, as thick as his arm. Alden screamed, and the snake slithered away. It was later confirmed that the snake wasn't of a poison variety, but indeed it was still terrifying at the time.
From the Forest to the beach! An amazing drive from Kasab down a narrow valley with crazy switchbacks to a very little rocky beach, where Syria hits Turkey. So Alden immediately jumps in the water, and a 300 meter swim later, he was in Turkey! The Syrian side was rocky, but there was lots of picnic goers hanging around, and a few people swimming. No one on the Turkey side, where the beach was nice and sandy (that's how you know where Turkey starts, the rocks immediately end). Alden had heard that there are guards to prevent this unauthorized swim between Syria and Turkey, but Alden was unbothered.
Lunch was a bit south, right on the beach. Alden split from the group at Latakia, where he will spend the night. The rest headed back to Damascus, since they have jobs/classes/obligations. Tomorrow Alden will try and find his way to Saladin's Castle and then to Aleppo. He is staying in a hotel that is twice as expensive as his out of date Lonely Planet guide said it would be, but it has clean beds and air conditioning! Alden hasn't slept with AC since arriving in the Middle East, and $20 is a fair price for this, no? Latakia is a port city, and it is a bit extremely humid, so the A/C will be nice.
Side note 1:
Alden often wonders, "Why isn't it socially acceptable for men to wear shorts around here?!?" It is so damn hot, and Alden's pants (the only pair he brought with him!) zip into shorts... Alden looks even more like a Gringo as his light gray t-shirt goes dark with sweat in about .03 seconds. The sweat drenching would be delayed if he could zip off the legs of his pants and turn them into shorts. Alas, it just can't be like that.
Side note 2:
Alden's been going to Hammams. These are great ways to clean up, since a hot water shower is usually a very tall order. They also involve receiving 1) a scrub-down and 2) a massage. The scrub-down is typically given by a fat little man who uses a cheesegrater and some soap, and nearly makes Alden bleed. This is followed by a massage given by the large man in booty shorts. Alden didn't even know his bones could crack like that. Wow, the whole thing feels amazing, once it is over.
Side note 3:
Alden learned things about Canada this weekend from Sophie. Mainly, that Canadians call hats "touques." This, Alden is convinced, is a Canadian shibboleth. This has been duly noted just in case Alden is drafted into the military when Pres. Obama invades Canada to get their inexpensive generic drugs.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Johnney Clegg
The fine city of Damascus has decided to take upon the role of the "cultural capital" of the Middle East with a renewed effort! Starting this week there will be a nightly show at the citadel in the old city, shows featuring bands from around the world. Last night Alden got his grove on at the kick-off show, featuring South African sensation Johnny "The White Zulu" Clegg. (For those of you unfamiliar with Johnny Clegg's work, he was huge in the late 80's and early 90's, and he still knows how to party...) The concert was a blast, with several thousand young peoples, predominantly ex-pats, crowding the citadel. Good times.
The citadel is a pretty odd place- it is right smack in the heart of downtown in the old city- but it isn't open to the public yet. Damascus opened it up for concerts only recently, and until the mid 80's it was still used as a prison. Amazingly cruel place for a prison, in Alden's opinion, as it is right next to the huge souq. It is probably on par with Alcatraz, where prisoners could still hear the sound of girls laughing when the wind was right. Being locked up while listening to the shopping crowds would not be enjoyable. (Alden, for one, laughs with joy each time he consumes Bakdash icecream in the souq)
Side note: Alden really, really, wants to try some of the blackberry juice that is sold by the guys in the souq, dressed up in traditional Turkish-ish garb with the giant brass juice thing on their back. But he hasn't. The juice is ice cold, and it would be so very delicious, but it is ice cold because of the ice in it... And Alden is not so keen on consuming too much public source water. But man, it looks so good. Good job Alden, for showing such good restraint.
Alden's been taking it easy the past few days with some low-key sight seeing and shopping excursions. Of note: Azem Palace. Alden really likes the old city Damascus house styles, and he plans on having a central courtyard with a fountain some day.
Tonight, Alden will be back at the Citadel for another concert, and then early tomorrow morning he will head up to the most north-west corner of Syria for some beach action. Then to Aleppo, where he plans on staying at "The Baron Hotel," which has a framed bar bill of T.E. Lawrence at the bar. Excellent.
And now, today's random thoughts:
Alden loves the tourists in Washington D.C. Really, he does! (You know the types: running around in fanny-packs, jean shorts, and wearing the amazing things one can purchase from the street vendors: pink CIA sweat-shirt or the "FBI witness protection, 'you don't know me'" t-shirt.) Alden has always thought that tourists walk like crazy people. They will all of a sudden stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk or crosswalk, with no regard for other human life, blocking the flow of human traffic, to stare at something shiney. (Alden makes a game of this when he goes on runs on the mall, "tourist dodge.") When Alden is abroad, and often lost, he always makes a point of not stopping in the middle of the flow of humanity to read his out-of-date Lonely Planet (which just screams "mug me!"). Well, and Alden confirmed the following observation with several Damascus-dwelling Americans: Syrians walk like tourists.
Alden, at 6 foot 2, sort of towers over the swarming packs of devout little old ladies that go the mosques near his house. And if he isn't paying extremely close attention, he will crash into an Abaya wearing grandmother who has stopped right in front of him while Alden was looking for some Shwarma or Orange & Carrot juice. So far, Alden hasn't knocked anyone to the ground, but there have been many close-calls.
Final thought: Such a sham.
The traditional Arabic term Bilad al-Sham (Arabic: بلاد الشام , also transliterated bilad-ush-sham etc.) is a name for the whole Levant or "Greater Syria" region that today contains Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel, and the Palestinian territories. (Ok, that was entirely taken from Wikipedia.)
So the term "Sham" is used everywhere in Syria. There are lots of horrible little cars, made in Syria out of Iranian parts, called "Sham." And Syria is starting up a low-cost airline, called "Sham Air." Tragic, but using "Sham" in a car, or airline, name doesn't make it very appealing. Tragic indeed.
The citadel is a pretty odd place- it is right smack in the heart of downtown in the old city- but it isn't open to the public yet. Damascus opened it up for concerts only recently, and until the mid 80's it was still used as a prison. Amazingly cruel place for a prison, in Alden's opinion, as it is right next to the huge souq. It is probably on par with Alcatraz, where prisoners could still hear the sound of girls laughing when the wind was right. Being locked up while listening to the shopping crowds would not be enjoyable. (Alden, for one, laughs with joy each time he consumes Bakdash icecream in the souq)
Side note: Alden really, really, wants to try some of the blackberry juice that is sold by the guys in the souq, dressed up in traditional Turkish-ish garb with the giant brass juice thing on their back. But he hasn't. The juice is ice cold, and it would be so very delicious, but it is ice cold because of the ice in it... And Alden is not so keen on consuming too much public source water. But man, it looks so good. Good job Alden, for showing such good restraint.
Alden's been taking it easy the past few days with some low-key sight seeing and shopping excursions. Of note: Azem Palace. Alden really likes the old city Damascus house styles, and he plans on having a central courtyard with a fountain some day.
Tonight, Alden will be back at the Citadel for another concert, and then early tomorrow morning he will head up to the most north-west corner of Syria for some beach action. Then to Aleppo, where he plans on staying at "The Baron Hotel," which has a framed bar bill of T.E. Lawrence at the bar. Excellent.
And now, today's random thoughts:
Alden loves the tourists in Washington D.C. Really, he does! (You know the types: running around in fanny-packs, jean shorts, and wearing the amazing things one can purchase from the street vendors: pink CIA sweat-shirt or the "FBI witness protection, 'you don't know me'" t-shirt.) Alden has always thought that tourists walk like crazy people. They will all of a sudden stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk or crosswalk, with no regard for other human life, blocking the flow of human traffic, to stare at something shiney. (Alden makes a game of this when he goes on runs on the mall, "tourist dodge.") When Alden is abroad, and often lost, he always makes a point of not stopping in the middle of the flow of humanity to read his out-of-date Lonely Planet (which just screams "mug me!"). Well, and Alden confirmed the following observation with several Damascus-dwelling Americans: Syrians walk like tourists.
Alden, at 6 foot 2, sort of towers over the swarming packs of devout little old ladies that go the mosques near his house. And if he isn't paying extremely close attention, he will crash into an Abaya wearing grandmother who has stopped right in front of him while Alden was looking for some Shwarma or Orange & Carrot juice. So far, Alden hasn't knocked anyone to the ground, but there have been many close-calls.
Final thought: Such a sham.
The traditional Arabic term Bilad al-Sham (Arabic: بلاد الشام , also transliterated bilad-ush-sham etc.) is a name for the whole Levant or "Greater Syria" region that today contains Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel, and the Palestinian territories. (Ok, that was entirely taken from Wikipedia.)
So the term "Sham" is used everywhere in Syria. There are lots of horrible little cars, made in Syria out of Iranian parts, called "Sham." And Syria is starting up a low-cost airline, called "Sham Air." Tragic, but using "Sham" in a car, or airline, name doesn't make it very appealing. Tragic indeed.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Bortucal & jezar juice
Alden made an amazing discovery today: bortucal & jezar juice. He's seen it everywhere, and from the picture on the glass he really wasn't sure it would be remotely drinkable.
1. Bortucal = Orange (so far, so good- Alden loves orange juice)
2. Jezar = Carrot (Whiskey Tango Farley?!?)
So Alden had to finally give this a try. Yeah, so it is great. Who'da thunk it?
In other news, Alden hasn't been ripped off by a taxi in days. This is pretty good. "Izze yemkin, al adad?" ("Is it possible, the meter?") Way to go, Alden.
Alden went on a minor shopping adventure today. He nearly bought a small antique navigation tool of sorts, (with a twisting map of the stars and little arabic script! so cool!) until he found out that the price was in dollars, and that he hadn't noticed an important decimal point.
By the way, Alden has had new living arrangements the past few days. He has a been in a house with a classmate from school. It is a large, gorgeous classical Damascus house with two spanish girls, three american guys, two american girls, a guy from london (maybe?), and a little feral kitten that attacks everything, all the time. The house has a central courtyard type situation, with a goldfish pond, and a great rooftop. It is quite nice, and this will be Alden's base of operations for the next couple weeks, although he is planning on heading to Beirut this weekend, then up the coast, back into Syria to Aleppo, then back down to Dimashq. But the nice this about backpacking (aka being a vagrant) is that this can all be changed at a moment's notice.
1. Bortucal = Orange (so far, so good- Alden loves orange juice)
2. Jezar = Carrot (Whiskey Tango Farley?!?)
So Alden had to finally give this a try. Yeah, so it is great. Who'da thunk it?
In other news, Alden hasn't been ripped off by a taxi in days. This is pretty good. "Izze yemkin, al adad?" ("Is it possible, the meter?") Way to go, Alden.
Alden went on a minor shopping adventure today. He nearly bought a small antique navigation tool of sorts, (with a twisting map of the stars and little arabic script! so cool!) until he found out that the price was in dollars, and that he hadn't noticed an important decimal point.
By the way, Alden has had new living arrangements the past few days. He has a been in a house with a classmate from school. It is a large, gorgeous classical Damascus house with two spanish girls, three american guys, two american girls, a guy from london (maybe?), and a little feral kitten that attacks everything, all the time. The house has a central courtyard type situation, with a goldfish pond, and a great rooftop. It is quite nice, and this will be Alden's base of operations for the next couple weeks, although he is planning on heading to Beirut this weekend, then up the coast, back into Syria to Aleppo, then back down to Dimashq. But the nice this about backpacking (aka being a vagrant) is that this can all be changed at a moment's notice.
Bosra
Alden woke up yesterday needing some solo time. He took a taxi to a bus station he had never been to, and purchased a bus ticket to Bosra.
Bosra is about 2 and a half hours south-east of Damascus. It is the site of (an amazing) Roman amphitheater.
Alden's bus didn't leave for an hour, so he hung out in the bus station, attempting to read while little kids attempted to sell him "Bebsi." (Side note: Alden never drinks soda, unless it is Coke with Jack, but he has enjoyed drinking "Miranda" here in Dimashq. Miranda is an amazing orange Fanta type drink with "fitanmin C." So it is healthy, right?)
Alden was the only tourist on the bus, which charged down the highway with impressive agility and speed. Arriving in Bosra, Alden followed the Lonely Planet's advice to obtain a ticket home, since the return bus in the evening fills up sometimes. It is a good thing he did; the bus left at 5:30, not 6:00, as Lonely Planet said. (Although, knowing Alden, he would probably get to the bus stop half an hour early anyways, and he would have been fine...)
Walking through Bosra, which is a town of maybe 500 people, Alden found the Amplitheater, which is surrounded by an Arab fortress. Alden sweet talked his way into yet another student ticket (20 cents rather than a dollar or two). Having been too lazy to obtain a ($25!) international student ID, Alden has managed to use his regular student ID with a 100% success rate. Alden's a charmer.
Bosra's amplitheater is amazing; Alden startled the only other tourists (a nice Austrian couple) with his loud, "DAAAAAAMN!" With several hours to spend exploring the Roman ruins, Alden took his time meandering around.
Upon his return to Dimashq, Alden got a steak and a bottle of wine at Naranga. It was a good day.
Bosra is about 2 and a half hours south-east of Damascus. It is the site of (an amazing) Roman amphitheater.
Alden's bus didn't leave for an hour, so he hung out in the bus station, attempting to read while little kids attempted to sell him "Bebsi." (Side note: Alden never drinks soda, unless it is Coke with Jack, but he has enjoyed drinking "Miranda" here in Dimashq. Miranda is an amazing orange Fanta type drink with "fitanmin C." So it is healthy, right?)
Alden was the only tourist on the bus, which charged down the highway with impressive agility and speed. Arriving in Bosra, Alden followed the Lonely Planet's advice to obtain a ticket home, since the return bus in the evening fills up sometimes. It is a good thing he did; the bus left at 5:30, not 6:00, as Lonely Planet said. (Although, knowing Alden, he would probably get to the bus stop half an hour early anyways, and he would have been fine...)
Walking through Bosra, which is a town of maybe 500 people, Alden found the Amplitheater, which is surrounded by an Arab fortress. Alden sweet talked his way into yet another student ticket (20 cents rather than a dollar or two). Having been too lazy to obtain a ($25!) international student ID, Alden has managed to use his regular student ID with a 100% success rate. Alden's a charmer.
Bosra's amplitheater is amazing; Alden startled the only other tourists (a nice Austrian couple) with his loud, "DAAAAAAMN!" With several hours to spend exploring the Roman ruins, Alden took his time meandering around.
Upon his return to Dimashq, Alden got a steak and a bottle of wine at Naranga. It was a good day.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Alden's old but still likes castles
Three days ago Alden turned 24 years old. He celebrated with dinner at a restaurant in the Christian quarter of the Old City. There was garlic bread, steak, crepes, ice cream, and wine and Arak. He then headed to a party, and eventually made his way home, but only after he met folks that were heading to Krak de Chevaliers the next day.
The logistics were hilarious and it is worth testing the patience of the reader:
Roll out of bet at 8 am, and head to Bab Touma to meet an Arabic classmate (near old city). 1st taxi wouldn't use his meter, second would. Alden met Nate at Bab Touma, but it took three taxis before one was will to use his meter to get to Pullman garage ("Meter broken" and "no meters on Fridays" are lies).
Also, it should be noted that it is impossible to find a sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich in Syria, and Alden really needed one the morning after his birthday...
Catch bus at Pullman garage to Homs, Syria. Two hour bus ride to Homs. Take a minibus into town, and get the run-around for an hour before taking taxi back to the Homs garage. Alden and Nate needed a minibus to drop them off near Krak de Chaveliers, and no one was able to help Alden find a ride. Finally, a minibus takes Alden and Nate towards Tartus, and dumps them on the side of the highway, no castle in sight.
Alden's a little big to ride in these minibus taxis, so it was nice to be able to stretch, but less nice to be stranded on the side of a Syrian highway. But luckily Nate's friends, L&L were at a hotel relatively nearby, and they picked the two guys up and beat a fast path to the hotel (with bar) where Alden would stay.
Hotel Francis is at the top of a mountain that overlooks the valleys towards the sea. Stunning views with a pool (and a bar). The hotel was in a Christian and largely autonomus region of Syria. There is no central government (overtly, anyways). The road and irrigation are funded by the locals, and there are no police. Many of the families have family in America, and (for the hell of it?) put American plates on their cars (California and Texas have been seen in the past).
Into this gap steps Khasan, who is looks like he would have played on the line in college if Syria had American Football. Nate's friends L&L (one when to Alden's school, the other does IT work/runs the Syrian chicken industry) are good friends with Khasan. Khasan runs Hotel Francis (which has a bar), and is basically the Tony Soprano of the village. Alden et al. would be relaxing with Khasan, who would need to leave every once in a while "to solve problem."
It came out that Khasan had taken L&L bird hunting during their last visit to Hotel Francis, but L&L weren't very good shots. Alden mention he enjoyed shooting, and immediately Khasan requests Alden join him the next morning. L (of L&L) bets Khasan would beat Alden, Nate takes the bet.
The next morning Khasan drives Alden, Nate, and L&L out behind Hotel Francis (which has a bar) near a pond. Before Alden has even taken the safety off his Russian-made 12 gauge pump-action, Khasan has downed 3 birds! But Alden catches up, and with several thousand Syrian pounds on the table between Nate and L (of L&L), Alden and Khasan are tied at 6 birds each. (Alden couldn't take a few shots that he would have made b/c Khasan had to take a few calls on his cell "to solve problem.") With Alden and Khasan tied at 6-6, each only has one round left. Alden spots a small, fast, agile little bird and downs it! It is up to Khasan (who seriously resembles Tony Soprano in so many ways) to tie Alden with his last shot. But he misses! Khasan was a good sport about it, but nearly crushed Alden's hand when they shook to leave for Krak de Chaveliers...
Krak de Chaveliers:
There isn't much to say about Krak de Chaveliers. Basically, it was the coolest thing Alden had ever seen. Google it. It is amazing. T.E. Lawrence called it 'the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world.' And he was right. Those crusaders did not mess around.
After running around the most amazing castle in the world for a few hours (which only had a dozen or so other tourists visiting) it was time to head back to Damascus. This time Alden and Nate got a ride, with L&L.
It was a successful trip.
The logistics were hilarious and it is worth testing the patience of the reader:
Roll out of bet at 8 am, and head to Bab Touma to meet an Arabic classmate (near old city). 1st taxi wouldn't use his meter, second would. Alden met Nate at Bab Touma, but it took three taxis before one was will to use his meter to get to Pullman garage ("Meter broken" and "no meters on Fridays" are lies).
Also, it should be noted that it is impossible to find a sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich in Syria, and Alden really needed one the morning after his birthday...
Catch bus at Pullman garage to Homs, Syria. Two hour bus ride to Homs. Take a minibus into town, and get the run-around for an hour before taking taxi back to the Homs garage. Alden and Nate needed a minibus to drop them off near Krak de Chaveliers, and no one was able to help Alden find a ride. Finally, a minibus takes Alden and Nate towards Tartus, and dumps them on the side of the highway, no castle in sight.
Alden's a little big to ride in these minibus taxis, so it was nice to be able to stretch, but less nice to be stranded on the side of a Syrian highway. But luckily Nate's friends, L&L were at a hotel relatively nearby, and they picked the two guys up and beat a fast path to the hotel (with bar) where Alden would stay.
Hotel Francis is at the top of a mountain that overlooks the valleys towards the sea. Stunning views with a pool (and a bar). The hotel was in a Christian and largely autonomus region of Syria. There is no central government (overtly, anyways). The road and irrigation are funded by the locals, and there are no police. Many of the families have family in America, and (for the hell of it?) put American plates on their cars (California and Texas have been seen in the past).
Into this gap steps Khasan, who is looks like he would have played on the line in college if Syria had American Football. Nate's friends L&L (one when to Alden's school, the other does IT work/runs the Syrian chicken industry) are good friends with Khasan. Khasan runs Hotel Francis (which has a bar), and is basically the Tony Soprano of the village. Alden et al. would be relaxing with Khasan, who would need to leave every once in a while "to solve problem."
It came out that Khasan had taken L&L bird hunting during their last visit to Hotel Francis, but L&L weren't very good shots. Alden mention he enjoyed shooting, and immediately Khasan requests Alden join him the next morning. L (of L&L) bets Khasan would beat Alden, Nate takes the bet.
The next morning Khasan drives Alden, Nate, and L&L out behind Hotel Francis (which has a bar) near a pond. Before Alden has even taken the safety off his Russian-made 12 gauge pump-action, Khasan has downed 3 birds! But Alden catches up, and with several thousand Syrian pounds on the table between Nate and L (of L&L), Alden and Khasan are tied at 6 birds each. (Alden couldn't take a few shots that he would have made b/c Khasan had to take a few calls on his cell "to solve problem.") With Alden and Khasan tied at 6-6, each only has one round left. Alden spots a small, fast, agile little bird and downs it! It is up to Khasan (who seriously resembles Tony Soprano in so many ways) to tie Alden with his last shot. But he misses! Khasan was a good sport about it, but nearly crushed Alden's hand when they shook to leave for Krak de Chaveliers...
Krak de Chaveliers:
There isn't much to say about Krak de Chaveliers. Basically, it was the coolest thing Alden had ever seen. Google it. It is amazing. T.E. Lawrence called it 'the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world.' And he was right. Those crusaders did not mess around.
After running around the most amazing castle in the world for a few hours (which only had a dozen or so other tourists visiting) it was time to head back to Damascus. This time Alden and Nate got a ride, with L&L.
It was a successful trip.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Old City exploration
(Note: This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but the internet went out... luckily it was saved!)
Today Alden got up nice and early to explore the Old City in Damascus before it got too hot outside. The Old City is very old. And large! Winding through the souq and a few of the many residential areas took all morning, including a visit to Umayyad Mosque (which is the resting place of St. John the Baptist, one of Alden's favorite saints). Several notable Alden victories today:
Victory #1:
A Syrian sim card for his phone. As his Jordanian sim card wasn't working so much, a new one was needed. Alden managed, in Arabic, to get a Syrian card. (This involved an application and a thumb print. Totally Totalitarian)
Victory #2:
Finding an ATM that works. Alden was more than a little concerned that he was completely screwed, and would have to retreat back to Jordan earlier than anticipated due to a slight lack of cash.
Victory #3:
Dinner on a roof top for less than $10. "Lalia," a classy joint, (so classy that it had sugar packs with "Lalia" printed on them) is right under a minarette belonging to Umayyad Mosque. The evening call to prayer was quite loud. Alden enjoyed his honey mustard chicken with a fellow backpacker.
Victory #4
This is an anticipated victory: Alden's going to bed early. Alden is sleepy and just wants to crash. He is about ready to beat the little kid that is spraying him with Windex while he sits at the internet cafe, and it is time for Alden to shower, take some tylenol PM, and insert his ear plugs.
Today Alden got up nice and early to explore the Old City in Damascus before it got too hot outside. The Old City is very old. And large! Winding through the souq and a few of the many residential areas took all morning, including a visit to Umayyad Mosque (which is the resting place of St. John the Baptist, one of Alden's favorite saints). Several notable Alden victories today:
Victory #1:
A Syrian sim card for his phone. As his Jordanian sim card wasn't working so much, a new one was needed. Alden managed, in Arabic, to get a Syrian card. (This involved an application and a thumb print. Totally Totalitarian)
Victory #2:
Finding an ATM that works. Alden was more than a little concerned that he was completely screwed, and would have to retreat back to Jordan earlier than anticipated due to a slight lack of cash.
Victory #3:
Dinner on a roof top for less than $10. "Lalia," a classy joint, (so classy that it had sugar packs with "Lalia" printed on them) is right under a minarette belonging to Umayyad Mosque. The evening call to prayer was quite loud. Alden enjoyed his honey mustard chicken with a fellow backpacker.
Victory #4
This is an anticipated victory: Alden's going to bed early. Alden is sleepy and just wants to crash. He is about ready to beat the little kid that is spraying him with Windex while he sits at the internet cafe, and it is time for Alden to shower, take some tylenol PM, and insert his ear plugs.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Dimashq!
Alden has arrived in Dimashq. He is exhausted; witty commentary will thus be limited. He found a nice little "funduq" downtown near the huge souq. A brief tour of the souq and Alden found an ice cream place. Alden likes ice cream on hot days.
Alden finds Damascus very foreign, and now he is completely solo in his travels. Indeed, he is exhausted; he will sleep well tonight.
Alden finds Damascus very foreign, and now he is completely solo in his travels. Indeed, he is exhausted; he will sleep well tonight.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Wadi Mujib!
Alden went canyoning at Wadi Mujib today. He found it amazing.
Wadi Mujib is a fantastic narrow and very deep gorge that drains into the Dead Sea. It is in a nature reserve nearly a kilometer below sea level. The trail involved clamoring over rocks in a stream that varied from 1 foot to 5 feet deep. This "trail" was nearly entirely under water, and it ended at a 100 foot waterfall after 45 minutes or so of very leisurely walking. Good times, although Alden can't ever complain when he is running around in his silky patagonia boxers, sans pants.
Jordan is so dry his soaked tennis shoes were dry in just a couple of hours!
Next for Alden, it was up to Mt. Nebo by way of the Dead Sea Panorama. Pretty views all around. Mt. Nebo was from where Moses saw the Promised Land, and promptly died. While indeed breathtaking, Alden didn't die.
To get off of Mt. Nebo Alden took a cab with a true con artist of a driver. He first mocked Alden's beard, then attempted to get Alden's sister's phone number, because he "wants a Green Card to work USA" as a driver. Alden's sister shouldn't worry; he gave the driver Foxy's number instead. JK!
Dinner in the town of Madaba, (Humos Libani is making Alden fat), and then a local bus back to Amman. Less than a dollar for the 45 minute ride.
Tonight's Random Observations: Alden is terrified watching all the little European (and Chinese!) cars tempting fate, and oddly the cops are cruising around in huge Ford Crown Victorias or Chevy Trailblazers.
Alden is still not used to riding in the front seat of a cab. He ALWAYS wears a seat belt. (Woman, if alone, ride in the back.) Catching a cab near the bus stop isn't a good idea: Alden looks like a Gringo, and the cabbies try to rip him off. "Meter crazy" or "meter broken," yeah, Alden will just walk then, thankyouverymuch.
Alden is going to attempt to score shotgun for the drive up to Dimashq... and luckily he has a random family friend connection to help negotiate a fair price, inshallah!
Wadi Mujib is a fantastic narrow and very deep gorge that drains into the Dead Sea. It is in a nature reserve nearly a kilometer below sea level. The trail involved clamoring over rocks in a stream that varied from 1 foot to 5 feet deep. This "trail" was nearly entirely under water, and it ended at a 100 foot waterfall after 45 minutes or so of very leisurely walking. Good times, although Alden can't ever complain when he is running around in his silky patagonia boxers, sans pants.
Jordan is so dry his soaked tennis shoes were dry in just a couple of hours!
Next for Alden, it was up to Mt. Nebo by way of the Dead Sea Panorama. Pretty views all around. Mt. Nebo was from where Moses saw the Promised Land, and promptly died. While indeed breathtaking, Alden didn't die.
To get off of Mt. Nebo Alden took a cab with a true con artist of a driver. He first mocked Alden's beard, then attempted to get Alden's sister's phone number, because he "wants a Green Card to work USA" as a driver. Alden's sister shouldn't worry; he gave the driver Foxy's number instead. JK!
Dinner in the town of Madaba, (Humos Libani is making Alden fat), and then a local bus back to Amman. Less than a dollar for the 45 minute ride.
Tonight's Random Observations: Alden is terrified watching all the little European (and Chinese!) cars tempting fate, and oddly the cops are cruising around in huge Ford Crown Victorias or Chevy Trailblazers.
Alden is still not used to riding in the front seat of a cab. He ALWAYS wears a seat belt. (Woman, if alone, ride in the back.) Catching a cab near the bus stop isn't a good idea: Alden looks like a Gringo, and the cabbies try to rip him off. "Meter crazy" or "meter broken," yeah, Alden will just walk then, thankyouverymuch.
Alden is going to attempt to score shotgun for the drive up to Dimashq... and luckily he has a random family friend connection to help negotiate a fair price, inshallah!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
That is NOT an ice cream truck
At an ungodly hour in the morning Alden has been routinely awoken by what he thought was an ice cream truck. The familiar tune emiting truck was not an ice cream truck, but rather a propane truck.
Also, as Team Awesome warned, Alden has noticed many cars wait until it is way past dusk to turn on their headlights. This makes it tricky for your average pedestrian to cross the street, which is a dangerous game to begin with... The reason? Jordanians are under the odd misconception that using your headlights wastes gasoline.
While Alden has been walking quite a bit every day, he is worried he might put on weight given the silly amount of food he's been eating. This is only a problem in that Alden only brought one pair of pants. For example: for less than 5 dollars, Alden stuffed his face at a random Chinese restaurant yesterday for lunch. The place had a New York Times review from 1981 on the wall, so it couldn't pass that up. This place was just off awesomely named "Rainbow Street," which has several gun shops. (At Jordanian gun shops one purchases bullets like screws at a hardware store- if you only need a few, they are placed in a cute brown paper bag.)
Alden just heard one can purchase old Iraqi Dinars with Saddam's face on them down in the "Balad" (the old part of town). Alden got very lost just wandering around yesterday, which was quite a bit of fun; he will probably do that again today.
Also, as Team Awesome warned, Alden has noticed many cars wait until it is way past dusk to turn on their headlights. This makes it tricky for your average pedestrian to cross the street, which is a dangerous game to begin with... The reason? Jordanians are under the odd misconception that using your headlights wastes gasoline.
While Alden has been walking quite a bit every day, he is worried he might put on weight given the silly amount of food he's been eating. This is only a problem in that Alden only brought one pair of pants. For example: for less than 5 dollars, Alden stuffed his face at a random Chinese restaurant yesterday for lunch. The place had a New York Times review from 1981 on the wall, so it couldn't pass that up. This place was just off awesomely named "Rainbow Street," which has several gun shops. (At Jordanian gun shops one purchases bullets like screws at a hardware store- if you only need a few, they are placed in a cute brown paper bag.)
Alden just heard one can purchase old Iraqi Dinars with Saddam's face on them down in the "Balad" (the old part of town). Alden got very lost just wandering around yesterday, which was quite a bit of fun; he will probably do that again today.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Days one and two!
Alden is still alive after two days!
Day one: Alden pays Gringo price for a taxi downtown and gets up on the Citadel and the Roman Amplitheater. These are the old-timey sights that you got go see as a foreigner in Amman. Also, it was really hot. Alden wandered around a bit- good, but sweaty, times. He realizes he paid too much when he takes a cab with a meter back to meet BK (aka "Da Ampersand").
Fun adventure: Getting a cell phone to work. Alden's Arabic is alright, but there was a considerable amount of vocab about "sim cards" and such that Alden didn't know and was very tricky to pantomime. But worked out in the end- Alden's got digits!
Evening: Books at Cafe- a great rooftop restaurant/bar with amazingly good BBQ "Chicken Chunks" and beer. And Nargileh. But the waitress didn't quite understand what Alden et al. wanted until they asked for "Hubbly-Bubbly." Best flavor, rather unexpectedly, was Watermellon-Mint. This was a good time; Alden was joined by FZB, who just gradumacated from SAIS and appears to be working for a CIA front organization (JK!) in Kurdistan (not JK!). Alden really wants to visit Kurdistan. But this is a big "rabooma" or "mumkin" ("Maybe").
Day two: The 4th of July at the Dead Sea
An only slightly hung-over Alden, BK (aka "Da Ampersand") and roommate (Mark) headed to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is very salty. Alden enjoyed himself, but he found floating in the hyper-salty sea a quite odd experience. It would have been better with beer, but this is Jordan, and Alden went to a public beach. No beer. But an all-you-could-eat buffet.
Having taken a taxi to the beach, Alden and folks were a bit stuck. There were taxis, but they seemed to all be hired. Flagging a taxi was thus impossible. An hour's drive away, this was going to be a very long walk back to Amman. Luckily a really beat-up cargo van picked Alden and folks up and tossed them in the back for 1 JD per head for the three very salty beach-goers. The three got left at a wee-little truck stop, where refresments were consumed. (It was still hot.) En route to the wee-little truck stop Alden saw a cow, and he thus won the cow game.
More waiting until a 2006 Honda Civic pulled up. Alden noted that this is the same car he drives back home. There were two empty seats, and the individuals inside allowed the team to join them, and refused payment for the ride back to Amman. With BK (aka "Da Ampersand") on his lap, Alden et al became friends with the Jordanian, Palestinian, and Chechnyian in the Civic. The Chechnyian was the most talkative, giving Alden all the advice he ever needed on how to pick up Russian women in the various cities in the Middle East.
Lessons learned: Hitching a ride in Jordan=Fun Times.
Alden also noted the differences between the 2006 Civic he rode in and his own. Mostly, with Jordanian-levels of honking, the horn and steering wheel were quite worn down after only two years.
Alden has a safety suggestion for cars in Amman: Since everyone honks and blinks their lights (all the time, at the same time) to gain attention, the lights really ought to be rigged directly to the horn. It is impressive, but probably dangerous, to honk and flash one's lights while smoking, down-shifting, talking on the cell phone, eating candy, and informing Americans the ways of Russian woman, all at the same time.
Tonight, a slightly sun-burned Alden plans to enjoy a James Bond marathon. Hopefully he will not be rudely awoken by the dueling cats and/or a rooster again. Seriously, those three should start a band. Their harmonies were amazing.
Day one: Alden pays Gringo price for a taxi downtown and gets up on the Citadel and the Roman Amplitheater. These are the old-timey sights that you got go see as a foreigner in Amman. Also, it was really hot. Alden wandered around a bit- good, but sweaty, times. He realizes he paid too much when he takes a cab with a meter back to meet BK (aka "Da Ampersand").
Fun adventure: Getting a cell phone to work. Alden's Arabic is alright, but there was a considerable amount of vocab about "sim cards" and such that Alden didn't know and was very tricky to pantomime. But worked out in the end- Alden's got digits!
Evening: Books at Cafe- a great rooftop restaurant/bar with amazingly good BBQ "Chicken Chunks" and beer. And Nargileh. But the waitress didn't quite understand what Alden et al. wanted until they asked for "Hubbly-Bubbly." Best flavor, rather unexpectedly, was Watermellon-Mint. This was a good time; Alden was joined by FZB, who just gradumacated from SAIS and appears to be working for a CIA front organization (JK!) in Kurdistan (not JK!). Alden really wants to visit Kurdistan. But this is a big "rabooma" or "mumkin" ("Maybe").
Day two: The 4th of July at the Dead Sea
An only slightly hung-over Alden, BK (aka "Da Ampersand") and roommate (Mark) headed to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is very salty. Alden enjoyed himself, but he found floating in the hyper-salty sea a quite odd experience. It would have been better with beer, but this is Jordan, and Alden went to a public beach. No beer. But an all-you-could-eat buffet.
Having taken a taxi to the beach, Alden and folks were a bit stuck. There were taxis, but they seemed to all be hired. Flagging a taxi was thus impossible. An hour's drive away, this was going to be a very long walk back to Amman. Luckily a really beat-up cargo van picked Alden and folks up and tossed them in the back for 1 JD per head for the three very salty beach-goers. The three got left at a wee-little truck stop, where refresments were consumed. (It was still hot.) En route to the wee-little truck stop Alden saw a cow, and he thus won the cow game.
More waiting until a 2006 Honda Civic pulled up. Alden noted that this is the same car he drives back home. There were two empty seats, and the individuals inside allowed the team to join them, and refused payment for the ride back to Amman. With BK (aka "Da Ampersand") on his lap, Alden et al became friends with the Jordanian, Palestinian, and Chechnyian in the Civic. The Chechnyian was the most talkative, giving Alden all the advice he ever needed on how to pick up Russian women in the various cities in the Middle East.
Lessons learned: Hitching a ride in Jordan=Fun Times.
Alden also noted the differences between the 2006 Civic he rode in and his own. Mostly, with Jordanian-levels of honking, the horn and steering wheel were quite worn down after only two years.
Alden has a safety suggestion for cars in Amman: Since everyone honks and blinks their lights (all the time, at the same time) to gain attention, the lights really ought to be rigged directly to the horn. It is impressive, but probably dangerous, to honk and flash one's lights while smoking, down-shifting, talking on the cell phone, eating candy, and informing Americans the ways of Russian woman, all at the same time.
Tonight, a slightly sun-burned Alden plans to enjoy a James Bond marathon. Hopefully he will not be rudely awoken by the dueling cats and/or a rooster again. Seriously, those three should start a band. Their harmonies were amazing.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The most wonderful thing about Tiggers...
Alden has arrived in Jordan. The flight was via Paris on everyone's favorite airline, Air France. With a fist-full of sedatives Alden managed to get some sleep en route to Paris. CDG airport was a mess compared to Dulles. (Side note, the girl checking Alden in at Dulles had his EXACT same birthday, year and everything. However, this, plus flirting, was still not enough to get bumped to business class.)
The flight from Paris to Amman was made easier by Alden's ability to charm a flight attendant into letting him sit in the emergency exit row. This served two functions: Alden's knees were saved, as was the life of the little brat Alden had been assigned to sit in front of. The kid had a "tickle me Tigger" that he was bashing, non-stop, into Alden's seat, so to play "The most wonderful thing about Tiggers, are that Tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs! There're bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, FUN FUN FUN FUN FUUUUUUUUUN! THEEEEEEE most wonderful thing about Tiggers, it that I'M the only ONE!" Alden didn't like that.
Alden arrived in Amman at sun set. He was a little worried- the pilot said the temperature was 43 degrees, which is about one thousand degrees Fahrenheit. It was actually about 70 and breezy. Alden met up with BK (aka "Da Ampersand") and crashed at his place. Today: explore Amman. Tomorrow, the Dead Sea.
Alden's first important lesson learned thus far:
Jordanian wall sockets have on-off switches. To charge a cell phone, for example, turn the wall socket to "ON."
The flight from Paris to Amman was made easier by Alden's ability to charm a flight attendant into letting him sit in the emergency exit row. This served two functions: Alden's knees were saved, as was the life of the little brat Alden had been assigned to sit in front of. The kid had a "tickle me Tigger" that he was bashing, non-stop, into Alden's seat, so to play "The most wonderful thing about Tiggers, are that Tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs! There're bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, FUN FUN FUN FUN FUUUUUUUUUN! THEEEEEEE most wonderful thing about Tiggers, it that I'M the only ONE!" Alden didn't like that.
Alden arrived in Amman at sun set. He was a little worried- the pilot said the temperature was 43 degrees, which is about one thousand degrees Fahrenheit. It was actually about 70 and breezy. Alden met up with BK (aka "Da Ampersand") and crashed at his place. Today: explore Amman. Tomorrow, the Dead Sea.
Alden's first important lesson learned thus far:
Jordanian wall sockets have on-off switches. To charge a cell phone, for example, turn the wall socket to "ON."
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