round 2 in the city of jasmine

Went back to Amurrrica, got myself a Cosi asiago bagel with cream cheese, some Thai food, plenty of memorable DC moments... now back to the grind in Damashq.

I've come back to the exact same city, but a completely flipped around life. I'm in a new apartment (a new crazy landlord?), new people, and new choices of tutoring vs. classes, teaching vs. maybe a few new opportunities? And I feel like I had to say good-bye about two minutes after saying hello to all of those people back home who matter most. But while the plane ride back to Syria may have consisted of some tears and “Black Balloon” on repeat, all it took was a walk through an Old City alley for me to realize how happy I am to be here for four more months. I think this is where I'm supposed to be right now.

Last night, my friend (now room mate!) Kate and I had dinner with an incredibly personable, gay Australian man who works as an archaeologist here. The dinner was made up of great conversation, ranging from topics of the security around the Golan Heights to the style of our mutual Swedish friends. The part that really stuck with me though was our discussion of sexuality and gender, the connotations of which drastically verge when comparing Syrian and Western culture.

The concept of sexuality here is completely turned around from the idea that my own American culture has ingrained in my mind. Syrian men seem to spend more time primping than women, their hair wet with gel, their pointy leather shoes shiny, their clothes too tight and bedazzled. And this must seem sexy to at least a fair amount of women here! Oppositely, so many of the women here are stunning, yet instead of noticing the natural beauty of the Syrian women all around, men choose to stare, mouths open, at the Western women who pass by. I could be wearing an oversized turtle-neck with no makeup and still get more attention than the stunning bronze-skinned women walking next to me.

Though a Syrian man would most likely flaunt a relationship with any Western woman, it seems so many other relationships breed second lives here. Speaking to Kate's Australian friend about his experiences with both waiters who hit on him and Syrian women who use him as a secret confidant, it became even more clear how little the surface really shows. Homosexuality, or at least homosexual sex between men, is clearly present, no matter how undercover it is. A Syrian man might have a second life with a male partner. A Syrian woman might have a second life revealing her fantasies to Western male friends, who her Arab girlfriends will never meet nor hear of.

A friend of mine recently spoke to me very convincingly of a “third gender” in the Middle East: western, primarily white, women. I can speak from simple experience... my outward appearance has never mattered more. In addition to any stigma that comes with being a woman, “Western” seems to translate in so many people's minds into “sex.” I know that I am looked at as a prostitute most of the time when I walk down the street without a man by my side. When Kate and I walked home from our dinner with her Australian friend, it was quite late at night, though our walk home was in one of the safest and most liberal areas in Syria, and was well lit. Every. Single. Car. Pulled over as we passed. And the men inside of the cars would hiss intently for us to come over and have sex with them.

These are all harsh generalizations, and I've met so many wonderful people who have proven them wrong. For every frustrating moment, I've had a million wonderful experiences. But in my day to day life, being female has never been a bigger part of my identity. At the moment, none of this is coming from a bitter or broken place; it's just where my mind's been at.

from sunrise at the lincoln to sunset in damascus

a) Happy Birthday Xochhhhhhh! Lovelovelove

b) Yesterday was my first class at the UN Relief Works Agency. I was teaching at the UNRWA field office; there were around fifteen 30 to 40-year-old's, from both Palestine and Syria, who were trying to improve their spoken English. My “teaching” was just mostly prompting discussions and conversations, and then a little bit of grammar and sentence structure.

All of the women in the class were incredibly friendly and respectful, even though they were all tens of years older than me. The men in the class were nice too, for the most part, though at times overly nice. When I asked for everyone to briefly introduce and describe themselves, one man instantly made clear that he was single and was looking for a wife. Another man, who was married, was also very forward. He was talking to some of the others about me in Arabic, but I understood everything that he was saying. When one of the women in the class pointed out that he was already married, he responded with “Yes, but my wife is getting old.” He later pointedly commented that the best way to learn English would be to marry an American girl.

The teacher before me was from Holland, so most of my class' discussions were centered around me being from America. One man was very upfront with his opinions about America, and persistently asked me to share my opinions about various situations. He asked about the reasons for the relationship between the U.S. and Israel, about Americans only following what we are told by our media, about racism within America, and discrimination against certain religions. I tried to prompt discussion with all of these questions, but it kept on veering to political opinions and views on the media. Only this one man had any interest in pushing these subjects, and I definitely felt inappropriate prompting political questions. I just kept on repeating that the range of opinion in the U.S. is great and that of course the government's actions do not represent the opinions of all Americans. I tried to bring up the idea that even I as an American am discriminated against and looked down upon by certain people, sometimes in Syria. We spent most of the two hours talking about daily life, cultural differences and traditions, and television. A different man insisted that women do not listen to or watch the news ever, because it simply doesn't interest them. The women in the class, of course, were defensive and tried to convince him otherwise, but he became agitatedly unmoving about his idea that woman only were interested in watching soap operas.
The culture in classrooms is also very different in terms of answering cell phones. I know from watching a few of the Libyan students at Damascus University pick up their cells in the middle of class, and from talking to friends from Jordan who had witnessed the same thing, that answering phones in class is fairly common. About ten cells were answered in the two hours I was trying to teach.

c)Daniela and her friend came to visit, and being around her always makes me feel so positive :) but at the same time, many of my friends from Damascus have left in the last week. Adam's family arrives in Damascus in a matter of hours... this part of my year is really winding down.

Some of us went back up to the top of the mountain again, to watch the sun go down over the city. It really does give you the same feeling as watching the sun rise at the Lincoln Memorial... you just end up feeling so small, and thinking about life and the people you care about... looking at the orange and maroon clouds collide with the tops of the Damascus buildings gives me the same feeling of home as watching the sun frame the Washington in the early-morning distance. I'm glad that I don't have to say good-bye to this city indefinitely quite yet.

christmas in the air?

First of all, so much love for Jess. She left Damascus a week ago, and it's not the same. There have been so many laughs and great times with this girl... she is one of the sweetest and funniest people I've ever met. Beyond excited for London oh TEN!

Christmas is in the air in Damascus... ironically? Most of the streets that I walk down, at least in the Old City and the area around Sharia Baghdad, are filled with shops selling ornaments, wreaths, and Santa hats. There are mini Christmas trees next to posters of Al-Assad's face. It's a lot of Christmas cheer for a city with a 10% Christian minority.

Lately, I feel like I've been having more serious discussions with my friends, mostly veering towards cultural differences. I've had more talks of religious tensions, the treatment of women, how events are framed in both Western and Syrian news sources. The honeymoon period of living here ended a while ago, though I still love this city. I feel like whenever I'm in a group of women my age, we end up talking about our many similar harassment experiences. Everyone who I talk to seems to feel the same way... whether it's someone touching you on the street, following you in a car, or just the constant intense staring, the harassment has, understandably, worn a lot of girls down. After four months, I can sadly see that I am more constantly on edge. I know, from stories and much personal experience, that harassment in Damascus is much less prevalent than in most Middle Eastern cities, but it is still grating. I've started walking most places with my ipod just so I don't hear as many comments.

One month from today, I'll be back in the district! Instead of walking down the street eating falafel from a stand, next to a car blaring music with lyrics like “Habibiti, ya albi, ya amri”... I'll be eating Chinese food with my girls listening to some ridiculous rap song near the monuments. I could not be happier for this brief return to normalcy.

Sayyida Zeinab...

BBC News- Damascus bus explosion kills three people
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8392369.stm

There has been a lot of confusion about what actually happened yesterday... it went from a terrorist attack with the extremist group already pegged to a tire explosion. It's still not clear, from the media or the government officials, but ultimately it's just incredibly sad that several people including a 13-year-old boy were killed. And I'll just say that not many tire explosions cause the type of destruction that was seen at this gas station, especially on a Shia holiday in front of a holy Shia mosque.

transatlanticism

Last week I sort of had a moment, when I was watching “Lost in Translation." It's such a good one... but shit. I was watching it in a basement in Syria, where I've been for over three months, not three days. And where my problems aren't elliptical machines that are too advanced or being confused by sushi similarities, but the lack of running water one day, and electricity another day. It's just ironic to watch something about cultural differences and isolation during a week trip to Tokyo when you are sitting in the middle of a Syrian winter feeling kind of burnt out.

Props to Myles for figuring out how to fix the electricity... finding copper wire in the Chinese Cultural Center, shaving it down, going into this random room of our building and somehow reconfiguring the fuses?? Without electrocuting himself? Major props.

A few days ago I went to this beautiful monastery called Marmousa with Myles, Kate, and a bunch of Kate's friends and room mates. It was in this mountain around two hours outside of Damascus, built into the rocks of a cliff, and surrounded by nothing but vast desert. It took us a while to climb up the steps to the church, but upon reaching the building, you overlook the most surreal view. The deep red desert sand and blue cloudless sky, with the moon out in daytime. It was stunning, but we've seen so many absolutely indescribable and stunning things here, that I wouldn't think it would affect me all that much. It completely did; it was just so peaceful and endless. The monastery was set up so that you can stay overnight for free if you just pitch in washing dishes or cleaning a bit. And the church was one of the most comforting places I've ever been. It had these old, brightly colored paintings on the wall, none of which had been renovated. Most of the paint was chipping away, but it was just so homey and unintimidating. It was small too, so only a few people were in it. No one was quiet because of rules or necessity, we were just quiet because we wanted to be respectful. Someone was in the corner reading, and cushions were set up along some of the edges to sit. After we explored and were waiting for Kate's friends to come back, I went back in by myself and sat in front of this tin tray with candles in it. Most of them were just melted wax lining the bottom, but 11 candles stilled burned... I just sat there for a while and thought about my family. My whole family, friends included. There are people back home who I've been thinking a lot about, from those who have recently died to those dealing with family sicknesses to those who are just so strong in everything they do. I've never been religious, though I've always had my own sort of spirituality... I can count the times that I've prayed on one hand, but this was one of them.

Probably not any time in the immediate future, but maybe in a few years, I would love to go back and stay there for a few days. All you would need are some books and maybe a journal and a camera. I feel like you would just be able to sit for a week and write poetry.

Speaking of being thankful for friends and family... We actually had a really nice Thanksgiving last week. We went to one of Myles' friends' houses, with a bunch of other Americans... and actual Thanksgiving food! Not gonna lie, Myles and I made the most EPIC stuffing ever... we were scared all day that it was going to be a complete failure, but it was actually really good... someone may have said it was the best stuffing he'd ever had... shockingly enough haha.

fi kahera

Cairo to visit Sarah!
Had a brief stop in Jordan with Kate, got to see Dani and Andrew (always so much fun!)... then after frantically deciding that buying plane tickets was easier than a 30 hour bus/ boat ride, we went to misssssr! The night we got there, it was the last Egypt-Algeria soccer game, and Egypt had to win by two goals to even re-play Algeria and have a chance in moving on towards the World Cup. We watched it in an outside sheesha cafe with Sarah and a bunch of her friends. Everyone was showing more Egyptian pride than any sort of nationalism I've ever seen, with face paint, chants and screams, capes made out of flags... everything around us was red and black and yellow and white. Even the cars were painted, or had kids hanging out of them holding flags; all of them were honking one distinct cheer. Sarah and I joined in with the face paint and cheers, and I completely caught the nerves of everyone around us when it seemed like Egypt would only win with one point. Then in the last few overtime minutes, Misr scored a second goal, and the whole city erupted. My only comparison to the hours that followed is D.C. after Obama was elected last year, with chaos in the streets and complete joy spilling over in front of the White House. Thousands and thousands of people filled the streets of Mohandiseen, with torches and fireworks, more flags, cheers of “Misr!!” echoing everywhere. I can't imagine how crazy downtown must have been. People covered the street, and spilled out of the cars that managed to drive by, or just sat on top of them. We saw one car slam into another, causing maybe ten kids sitting on top of it to jolt into the street. The fireworks swirled everywhere, low to the ground, showering everyone in sparks... but it was a beautiful night to be a part of, and no one around us was hurt at all. The chaotic street celebrations lasted hours longer than I thought they would.

Over the next few days, Myles, Adam and I visited the Citadel and pyramids and Coptic Cairo, all of which I have been to before, but they never lose their power. You never feel any less small when you stand looking over the edge of the Citadel, seeing the Giza pyramids miles away, and the mosques of Cairo intermixed with the buildings and streets. It was nice to be with Myles and Adam for their first time in Cairo, seeing all of this. It's also bizarre how well some people remembered me from my last two trips to Egypt. One of the store owners in the Coptic area said that we were “old friends from the last few years.” Even weirder, some guy who worked at the Citadel not only remembered me, but knew it was my third time visiting the Citadel, because of my blue eyes.

Possibly the most epic moment of the trip was riding horses in front of the pyramids at night... I didn't know until that night that horses scare the shit out of me. It was dark when we got to the pyramids. The four of us, as well as several of Sarah's friends and a few guides, piled onto these Arab horse and were simply told to start riding. So we went off into the Sahara desert, with no instructions, and I had never even sat on a horse before... yea. My horse was partially blind, and kept on trotting away from the rest of my group. I learned, after several border-line panick attacks, that every time it lowered its head, it would begin to go faster. Definitely had a moment when I realized that if it wanted to, the horse could just start running into the dark Sahara, and I really had no way of stopping it. Most of the way to the campsite, Sarah and I were just frantically saying “Shway shway, habibi!” and “Mish bisora!” because at the time it seemed to make sense that speaking Egyptian Arabic to the horses would get them to do what we wanted? Then on the way back, one of the horses started bolting forward, and got the others to gallop unexpectedly as well. Next thing I know, I see one of the horses running figure eights up and down the sandy hills with Sarah's friend on it screaming “It won't stopppp!”... and I see Adam walking towards us, after being thrown off of his own horse, with wild dogs approaching... Myles' horse was also crazy, trying to kick all of the others. I managed to not freak out at the end when my horse broke into a gallop across a field and had to stop short to prevent us from crashing into a wall. Altogether, it was an, ahem, interesting introduction to horse riding.

We had some really fun nights out, at the Cairo Jazz Club, a second Egypt-Algeria soccer game (Egypt lost... sad), and of course I got to see my girl Sarah and my friend Steph, and meet some really cool people. And we finally ate American-style food, which we have been intensely missing... bagel sandwich. Omlette. Pancakes. Oh man.

Sarah came back to Damascus with us, after a brief but eventful stop in Jordan again. Adam lost his passport, and there was a definite hour of panic when we tried to figure out what to do. Our airport cab driver ended up calling Kate's hostel and bringing it back to him for some money, والحمد لله. We spent a longgg time on the Syria-Jordan border in the middle of the night while Kate, Adam, and Sarah tried to get new visas. Finally, after a solid four hours and a few drinks from the duty free store, when went back to Damascus. Went to the Omayyad mosque, and to the top of the Jebel at sunset, two things that I am SO happy to have finally done, and shocked that its taken me this long to get to. I wish Zahara could have stayed here with us :( She is greatly missed.

Also... we moved. Long, complicated process that may or may not be over yet... we have a really... eclectic?... new apartment in the basement of a building on Sharia Baghdad. It has a little courtyard where three massive cats hang out, and is covered with blue paint, about 12 couches, and fake flowers. We live about 20 minutes outside of the old city, so it's still easy to go back and visit our old stompin' grounds.

what? it's cold in syria?

So. Context of my life right now: it's pouring out and freezing; I of course didn't anticipate either so have no warm or waterproof clothes or shoes. Soaking wet from walking home from the bus stop. When I get home our gas tank is empty, so we can't cook or heat water. My room, which is realistically a closet-sized shack with a broken window on our building's roof, is not only heatless but it is now leaking. We have no entertainment: no dvd-player, no new books, and no games. We now basically have no way to dry ourselves, warm ourselves, or cook. So I am sitting curled up on a bed in Syria, basically unable to leave my room, a cup balanced next to me to catch to rain drops that would be on my pillow, finishing the seventh Harry Potter, which i've already read this month, and eating blue cheese dressing with a fork (though to be honest I couldn't be more thrilled to have finally found this). Good times, good times...

Going back and forth between feeling like I could live here forever and really missing home. I had a moment in a cab yesterday, when I was coming back from shopping at Sham City Center, the western supermarket (finallllly have some peanut-butter and soup!), and I was looking out of the window at all of the specks of light that cover the mountain next to the city. And I realized that I could really live here. For more than just 8 months; I could see myself getting a job here in the future. It's such a simple thing, but I know that when I get back to the U.S., I am going to miss the mosques. They bring such intricate beauty and tradition to the city. Whenever you drive around in a bus or cab, you drive by tens of sparkling teal and ivory mosques, though they may neighbor a market or hotel or even Costa Coffee. And when you walk on the streets, you see girls wearing 4-inch red heals with a matching Chanel hijab next to women in covered completely in black clothe. There is just such a richness to the culture of Damascus that I love, and such diversity. Even the terrain of the city itself: the Jebel, with scattered buildings covering it, towering next to the city; the viney allies of the Old City; the desert-rimmed highways of Mezzah. The only constant pitfalls to my life here are the slightly lessened living standards, the language barrier, and the harassment that comes from being a woman. The living standards and language barrier just cause me to push myself, and in my opinion, everyone can use more of that... The harassment comes and goes, at varying levels, and never gets any easier to accept. But it has given me a sort of anger that has if anything has led to empowerment, and the hard-set idea that every woman is entitled to complete respect. This empowerment is only enhanced by the strength and sassiness and opinionated demeanor of every woman I've met here.

The tough part is really missing my friends and family. In the last week, three of my very best friends had their birthdays, two of them having their 21st birthdays. It sucks not to be back with them. That, compiled with being sick and therefore emotional for the last few days, has really made me long for everything I'm missing. Sitting in my best friend's basement for hours, walks around the National Mall, random texts about music lyrics, laughing at our own awkwardness, eating Chinese food or soy buffalo wings and making lists :) Haha, no better moments in the world than these. I just miss beeeeing with all of my best friends, and talking to them. Could not love them more <3