A massacre on the beach
23.12.2004 | Aqaba, Jordan
Morning in a beach close to Aqaba. The sun came out and started peeking over the hills that seem to rise out of the sea and then extend further towards east and the desert. The rays of sun are hitting the windscreen and it's becoming hot. I draw the curtain away and look outside, when I catch sight of dead bodies, lying there helplessly, under the window. Three corpses, being warmed up by the mild morning sun.
EXODOS…
21.12.2004 | Aqaba, Jordan
Before the border I stopped at the gas station and filled up everything I had. First in the place where everything is dirty on the floor and you have to be careful not to fall and then the other place, where it smells of acceleration. That’s where I also carefully cleaned the fuel tank hole with petrol. I only paid about 18 euro for 50 plus 35 litres. It was eleven in the evening. Perfect, I'll make a full use of the Syrian insurance and take out the Jordanian one with the beginning of the new day.
Let’s talk about sex... And the cafeteria got empty in a second. Well, almost.
20.12.2004 | Damascus, Syria
Shireen studies English literature. She's in the second year and her English is more or less at grammar school level. But she's a very nice young girl, wearing – would you believe it? – white boots and a tight mini skirt that makes walking through a door behind her close to indecent. Me and Alexander sat down with her one day after the course in the cafeteria – we were invited to sit down by a friend of Alexander's, who's in his final year of English literature studies. Of course, the conversation led to the prohibition of accepting guests of the opposite sex in the apartment and the moment came when we had to clearly define and explain the difference between “girlfriend” and “female friend”.
Holidays
16.12.2004 | Damascus, Syria
Today we finished the November-December course and I started putting my things together, because tomorrow or the day after I'm finally going to the coast to warm up my bones (today it was 2°C in the morning) and ride the KTM in the dust of the Wadi Rama sandbox.
Skiing in Lebanon
12.12.2004 | Faraya Mzaar ski resort, Lebabon
It's dark outside and we're climbing towards a ski centre at 2000 metres of altitude. The melody coming out from the throat of the Lebanese singer Majida Rumi is filling the inside of the car through cables that are sticking out of everywhere. The wipers are smearing the occasional snowfalls to the windscreen of an old Mercedes that jerks every time when shifting from second to third gear going uphill.
“It's going to be cloudy tomorrow,” says Ghanim, and takes a lady that was standing alongside the road inside my private cab.
“Women aren't supposed to stand alongside the road at night, that's why I took her in.” Of course she pays for the ride after a couple of kilometres, when she gets out.