This machine isn't meant for the city!
6.12.2004 | Damascus, Syria
One of the advantages of the kickstand of the bike is that you're able to sunbathe - I've even fallen asleep on it - or you can watch the stars in the clear, cloudless sky. There's darkness all around, I feel the horizon somewhere far in front of me, where two equally dark worlds meet - the dwellings of falcons and the desert mice. Silence. There's only a gentle breeze singing around my ears and foretelling the oncoming cold. And the distant noise of an aeroplane - third in the line of blinking lights - that is getting lost somewhere far on the left, under the rising Orion. Where is it headed? Where are all the crews on another routine journey flying to, where did they take off from, are they munching on their sandwiches and sipping their coffee yet? Syrian, Indian, Royal Jordanian... Emirates? The Casio points 115° from the true north. Baghdad? No, not that. Tehran? Madinatu Kuwait? It's getting chilly. There goes another silver bird above me.
Volunteers run
1.12.2004 | Damascus, Syria
Friday morning we're supposed to run a mini marathon (4 km) to promote voluntarism in Syria (I imagine they don't know what that means here). Friday with Muslims is equal to our (Lord's) Sunday, while Saturday in Syria is like ours. The very staunch Muslim countries like Libya and the United Arab Emirates, and probably Iran as well, have Thursday and Friday off in order to have enough time for preparations for Friday midday prayer, the most important one in the week. And Friday at eight in the morning we're supposed to run on the streets of Damascus. (Half an hour later the outside temperature is about 7°C.) And after, like two British girls from the English Department enthusiastically promoted, we're going directly to a party, all sweaty and out of breath, where we'll mingle with the locals (they’re searching for promotion victims among them as well). That's probably a good thing also because otherwise it's hard to find locals.
No girls
28.11.2004 | Damascus, Syria
Nothing new in Damascus today and yesterday, except for a horrifying traffic jam on the way home from the university. It's the first weekday so it took me more than an hour for the road that usually takes fifteen minutes.
Syrian off-road
26.11.2004 | Damascus, Syria
- Okay. And what are these?
- The thermometer and the voltmeter.
- Hmmm. And what do you have in this pocket?
- My car and apartment keys, see?
- Good. What about this one?
- My mobile.
- Let's have it.
He was already holding the satellite phone, my digital camera and Freitag's miserable map of Syria. Fortunately I forgot the GPS at home, otherwise things could get even less pleasant.
- Turn the bike around and let's go to see the commander.
It's cold
25.11.2004 | Damascus, Syria
I'm wrapped in a double sleeping bag (there's a winter one inside the summer one), and my little hands and fingers on them are being warmed up by an infra red heater in my new dwelling. The temperatures here are abnormally low – yesterday morning the lowest was 1.7°C and today it is almost 7°C. Even in January, when the temperatures are at their lowest, I hear they normally never fall under 5°C. The houses here testify to that: windows with single glazing and lousy thermal insulation. The bathroom is also cold.