oh dear. last day.
Today is my last day here. I spent part of the morning running errands. I picked up some linen pants and skirts I had made from the tailor, who really nicely told me to contact him if I ever need anything, even when I'm not in Syria. I got my morning juice and said goodbye to my friends at the juice store, then hopped on a service to meet one of my friends at his store in the Old City.
While waiting for the service I noticed a young Syrian man staring at me and thought 'This guy might be trouble'. I felt like I had been on a service and had him stare at me before. He got onto the service and stared at me the whole time. I ended up jumping out of the service just before the driver pulled away from a stop and the guy, seeing that I was getting out, jumped out, too. Then he followed me and asked if we could walk together for a bit as I dashed across a busy street, dodging minivans and taxis careening across the intersection. I turned to him and said flatly 'No, I have an appointment in 10 minutes. Sorry'. This guy was persistent. He kept following me saying 'Can we just talk for a bit? Give me you phone number!' I said 'I'm leaving tomorrow!' To this he said 'Well, let's get together tonight!' 'Enough!' I snapped. 'Go away!' He asked for my phone number again.
I had a mission. You see, I wanted to snap some photos of the sheep that graze on dry dirt near the Old City, and I wasn't going to let this loser stop me from it, so I stopped in front of the sheep and snapped away. I took video. He asked me what I was doing and I ignored him and set off for my friend's shop. He kept calling after me but eventually finally figured out that I had no interest in talking to him and stopped.
Recounting this story to a male, Syrian friend later, he asked why I didn't slap the guy who followed me. I said I didn't know why but I thought that insulting him would have been good, and I didn't do that, unfortunately. It's really annoying to be followed and to have someone be very persistent.
I did eventually get to my friend's shop, where, tuckered out from the heat, I collapsed on a chair and we sat talking for a while. He asked me for advice about his girlfriend. She's British and headed home in a few days; he just got rejected for his British visa yesterday, so they don't know when they'll see each other again and he wasn't sure if they should stay together until it's possible for them to see each other. I gave him the only advice I could think of, which was that if he really cares about her and thinks that their relationship is want he wants, then he should try to make it work.
We ended up going to his brother's store, where we drank tea and chatted with his brother for a while. Then we parted ways and I went to the Omayyed Mosque. Kids were chasing pigeons in the courtyard, men were sleeping in the mosque, and it was bright and sunny and glorious.
I then went to another friend's shop and, feeling a little shaky from the heat and possibly from thinking about the idea that I'm leaving tomorrow, I sat down for a minute. Realizing I hadn't eaten anything other than a banana and juice the whole day and it was already four, I picked up some schwarma and orange juice and sat in the shade outside my friend's shop to eat.
So tomorrow it's off to my parents' house in the US, where I'll be for just over a month before I go to London for my graduation and possibly to stay. I'm not sure where my next home is. I hope that it will be as good to me as Damascus has been.
No, I Can't Stay Here Longer
Even though I wish I could, I can't stay here any longer. I have to go back and find a home and find work. Hopefully I will be back here soon and then I can hang out with anyone who wants to meet up with me and we'll go to Seidneyya, Aleppo, even Deir-e-Zur. Yes, even Deir-e-Zur, the place where I was attacked with a radish leaf.
A Little Adventure
After my usual stop at the juice place this morning I went to a souk in Ruknedin to buy some movies. On my way out I stopped at my friend's friend's dry goods shop to say hello and he invited me to sit down and hang out with him. We chatted for a while, me in Arabic, he in English, about his work, learning languages, and his future. Last year he married a British-Pakistani woman who was studying here and, though she's moved here, she's eager to go back to Britain and for him to go with her. He pointed out that moving to Britain would be a huge move for him economically. Here he works at his father's shop, which is well-established and in a good, busy location. It's a business that's worth a lot of money and one that his father spent much time building up.
In Britain he'd have to find work with people he trusted, save money to possibly start his own business, and simultaneously try to save money to visit Syria. He sighed and said 'It would take me five years if I saved all the money from my work and ten years if I saved half". He said that there are about a thousand questions he must find the answers to and he has to think many nights about this. He's in love with his wife but leaving Syria would be enormously difficult for him. His life is so family-oriented, he's well established here, and, as he pointed out, he has so many people here he trusts.
He asked me if I had eaten and I said yes, I had some eggplant and juice. He laughed and, while I was paying attention to the tea he had poured for me, he gave his friend money to go get zaatar for us. His friend showed up with piles of freshly baked bread with zaatar and he handed me a piping hot one, insisting that I eat with him. I sat there munching my zaatar as he helped customers.
His brother came by the shop and all of a sudden he said 'Okay, let's go!' I asked him where we were going and he said I'd see. I shrugged and followed him out of the shop and through some alleyways. He told me we were going to go to his house. We ended up at his family's house, not the house where he and his wife live, and I was quickly invited to eat lunch with his sisters. Despite having told her that I had already eaten (twice by this point), his younger sister insisted that I eat. She gave me a large piece of flatbread and I gave in. While I was eating she asked me how old I am. She guessed I'm 22, but upon finding out I'm 28, asked if I'm married. I said no and she said 'Why not? You're 28!'
Lacking the word for 'goal' in Arabic, I couldn't tell her that it's not everyone's goal to get married; I suppose I could have told her that in American culture, not everyone wants to get married. She then asked me if I'm Muslim and, when I said yes, she looked at me in shock and said 'But why don't you cover up when you're outside?' I tried to explain that, in America, not many women cover up. Even though she's only fifteen, that girl certainly moved quickly with the questions. It was very Syrian.
After a while I thought I should leave, so I thanked my friend for inviting me over and thanked his family for the delicious food and then left. I stepped out into the sunlight, still a little dazzled and thoroughly delighted by the idea that I could go to the shop of a friend of a friend and end up being invited to his family's house for lunch. Never mind the culture shock he would have in Britain, I'm going to be shocked when I go to the US and things like this don't happen.
The Unexpected, as Always
Today I went to the hammam for the last time. It was so relaxing but also sad knowing that I won't be able to indulge in a good steam, sauna, and scrub for a long time. The woman who scrubbed me and my mom when we were there a few weeks ago was there again today and she asked about my mom, about how she is doing. She's not only thorough with her scrubbing; she's also really nice. Since this is one of the few times in my life when I've been able to do so, I gave her a really generous tip. She definitely deserves it.
While at the hammam I was thinking about how comfortable women here, the women at the hammam are with their bodies. Hijabed woman walk into the hammam and go into the hamman in just their underwear to be scrubbed really thoroughly by other women. In a society where quite a few women cover up, it's nice to see women so comfortable in their skin.
Afterwards I got juice, met my friend in the souk, and headed to pick up some items my parents had ordered while they were here. While we were at the store one of them men there handed a photo album to my friend and, thinking that it might be an album of pictures of his family, I moved my chair next to his to look. These were not family photos. It was an album of women in belly-dancing costumes. The man makes them and wanted my friend to buy them from him.
We headed back to his shop and, while sitting outside, we saw a little boy no more than 3 years old wandering around. He and my friend exchanged hellos and the little kid kept walking. Despite having been here seven months and knowing that Damascus is a safe city, I was still a little surprised. I love it, though. I love that little kids can wander around by themselves. Even better, about ten minutes after the kid walked past, the shopkeeper I usually buy water from walked by, holding the kid's hand. It turned out he was taking him home. The little boy was lost.
Walking to the internet cafe, I saw that a lot of stores were empty, as many shopkeepers had gone for the afternoon prayer. Some stores were locked while others were just empty. I had several people point out to me that it's not just the police presence that makes Syria so safe, it's also that Syrians have a strong concept of family and they value the idea of community. While I still think that the police presence greatly adds to the safety here, it's absolutely right that Syrians just see their society in a different way than we in the US or Europe see society. That's what makes is possible for little kids to wander around the streets of the souk by themselves and for shopkeepers to run to the mosque to pray, leaving their shops unattended.
Things in Syria are changing; I've seen a lot of changes since I arrived here in November. More about that tomorrow.
The Unexpected, as Always
Today I went to the hammam for the last time. It was so relaxing but also sad knowing that I won't be able to indulge in a good steam, sauna, and scrub for a long time. The woman who scrubbed me and my mom when we were there a few weeks ago was there again today and she asked about my mom, about how she is doing. She's not only thorough with her scrubbing; she's also really nice. Since this is one of the few times in my life when I've been able to do so, I gave her a really generous tip. She definitely deserves it.
While at the hammam I was thinking about how comfortable women here, the women at the hammam are with their bodies. Hijabed woman walk into the hammam and go into the hamman in just their underwear to be scrubbed really thoroughly by other women. In a society where quite a few women cover up, it's nice to see women so comfortable in their skin.
Afterwards I got juice, met my friend in the souk, and headed to pick up some items my parents had ordered while they were here. While we were at the store one of them men there handed a photo album to my friend and, thinking that it might be an album of pictures of his family, I moved my chair next to his to look. These were not family photos. It was an album of women in belly-dancing costumes. The man makes them and wanted my friend to buy them from him.
We headed back to his shop and, while sitting outside, we saw a little boy no more than 3 years old wandering around. He and my friend exchanged hellos and the little kid kept walking. Despite having been here seven months and knowing that Damascus is a safe city, I was still a little surprised. I love it, though. I love that little kids can wander around by themselves. Even better, about ten minutes after the kid walked past, the shopkeeper I usually buy water from walked by, holding the kid's hand. It turned out he was taking him home. The little boy was lost.
Walking to the internet cafe, I saw that a lot of stores were empty, as many shopkeepers had gone for the afternoon prayer. Some stores were locked while others were just empty. I had several people point out to me that it's not just the police presence that makes Syria so safe, it's also that Syrians have a strong concept of family and they value the idea of community. While I still think that the police presence greatly adds to the safety here, it's absolutely right that Syrians just see their society in a different way than we in the US or Europe see society. That's what makes is possible for little kids to wander around the streets of the souk by themselves and for shopkeepers to run to the mosque to pray, leaving their shops unattended.
Things in Syria are changing; I've seen a lot of changes since I arrived here in November. More about that tomorrow.
Little Piddly Things
The problem with leaving a place is that you always end up with little piddly things to do. Today I have:
-exchanged photos with one of my good friends
-bought olive soap for my mom
-picked up a Koran pendant for a friend
-studied
I have about twelve other things that are still on my list of things to do, of course, stuff like 'pick up things from tailor', and 'buy Arabic movies'.
Job Hunting, More on Leaving
I'm looking for a job. It's not the easiest thing to do from Syria (slow internet connection, problems accessing job sites, and of course the conflict between how much time I should spend on job hunting and learning Arabic). Part of my problem is that I left my job as a journalist to get a Masters in International Studies and while I really want to work in security analysis, doing research on the Middle East, or working on US foreign policy, I don't always feel that journalism wasn't the place for me.
I belong to a professional organization for women who work in or are studying international security. It's useful for job listings, events, and contacts, Last summer when I was thinking about whether or not I should move to Damascus to learn Arabic I wrote to a woman who gave me really good advice; feeling at a bit of a dead end recently, I wrote to her again and she again gave me some stellar suggestions and even put me in contact with Peter Singer, someone whose work I really admire.
Of course, this made me think about the professors I've asked for job advice who, though we get along well and they were enormously supportive of my dissertation work, have not been so helpful when it comes to looking for jobs. I think this is partly because their careers have been so focused on academics that they just can't give me terribly relevant advice about how to go about looking for a job or where to look.
The other thing I've been doing, of course, is studying. I had a lesson with my tutor this morning; we went over relative pronouns and read some texts. I told him that I'm sad because I know I'm leaving Thursday and he asked me if I'm going to come back. This is, I think, the most difficult part about leaving. I know I will be back, but I don't know when (there are so many factors involved in this: I need to find a job, if I end up working in the US, Syria is a long way to travel from there, flying to Syria is not cheap). I feel that the other places I have left have been much easier to go back to. Chicago, London, small towns in Germany, somehow I've made it back to my other homes.
The other difficult part about leaving is that it's so difficult for Syrians to get visas to go to the US or to the UK, so I don't know if or when my Syrian friends will be able to visit me. Even if they do get visas, it's terribly expensive for them to travel. Making friends from Indonesia, Taiwan, and Syria over the past two years, I've learned to remember that traveling is difficult for many people.
Yesterday one of the guys at my favorite juice place, Abu Shaker, looked sad when I said I'm leaving and don't know when I'll be back. He suggested I open a branch of Abu Shaker in the US. It's all fresh, fabulous juice; I can't imagine how phenomenally expensive it would be in the US, but it would definitely work. Juice here is about a dollar for a liter of amazing, fresh, made to order tastiness. In the US I'm sure a liter would be at least six dollars. I'm really addicted to the juice; lately I've had to get it every day and today I just caved and bought an enormous bottle of the stuff. I don't know how I'll survive in the US. I think I just won't be able to drink juice. That said, it's nice to enjoy what I can while I'm here, so tomorrow I'm hopefully headed to my favorite restaurant, Beit Shammi, for some tasty lamb and some lemon and mint juice.
Lazy Friday
Fridays in Damascus are the equivalent of Sundays in the US or the UK. Friday prayers are especially important, shops are closed, people have the day off, and since Thursday is the big party night here, many of my friends and I spend the day lazing around, studying, eating a big lunch or brunch, and enjoying some calm.
Today I woke up ready to do some work, so I sat down with my textbook and studied vocabulary while eating Syrian flatbread and some honeycomb honey. I turned the tv on to an Arabic music channel and watched several videos of Gulfi, probably Omani or Bahraini, singers in gallabieh (the long, white robes worn by many male Gulfi Arabs) dancing around with other men in gallabieh and waving and twirling sticks or rifles. These shots were intercut with shots of women with straight, long hair leaning forward and moving their heads around so their hair swirled around them. They're interesting videos not because of their production value but because they're different from Lebanese or American or European videos. Women are objectified in a completely different way: in one of these videos one of the women was shown drawing a veil around her head very slowly. Men are shown dancing arm in arm with friends, something foreign to American and European videos. They're fascinating to watch for a few minutes.
Around 1 several friends and I went over to a friend's house in the Old City for lunch. She had prepared a massive amount of delicious food and we sat around eating and talking about politics and the media for a few hours. She lives in an old house, renting a room from a fifty-something woman who has never married.
It's one of my last days here so, while walking to this internet cafe in order to do some work, I looked up at the beautiful old houses, some of them crumbling, and tried to appreciate everything I've seen for seven months just a little bit more. The houses lean in and almost touch each other in the alleyways, people leave their doors open to let in whatever breeze might be blowing by as they smoke nargileh, and strains of Arabic pop float through the streets. I miss seeing these things sometimes when I'm walking purposefully, so it's nice to have a somewhat imposed day of laziness so I can enjoy some of the things that make Damascus pretty.
The Unexpected, as Always
Today I went to the hammam for the last time. It was so relaxing but also sad knowing that I won't be able to indulge in a good steam, sauna, and scrub for a long time. The woman who scrubbed me and my mom when we were there a few weeks ago was there again today and she asked about my mom, about how she is doing. She's not only thorough with her scrubbing; she's also really nice. Since this is one of the few times in my life when I've been able to do so, I gave her a really generous tip. She definitely deserves it.
While at the hammam I was thinking about how comfortable women here, the women at the hammam are with their bodies. Hijabed woman walk into the hammam and go into the hamman in just their underwear to be scrubbed really thoroughly by other women. In a society where quite a few women cover up, it's nice to see women so comfortable in their skin.
Afterwards I got juice, met my friend in the souk, and headed to pick up some items my parents had ordered while they were here. While we were at the store one of them men there handed a photo album to my friend and, thinking that it might be an album of pictures of his family, I moved my chair next to his to look. These were not family photos. It was an album of women in belly-dancing costumes. The man makes them and wanted my friend there is nothing like hands on.
I don't have Adwords Analyzer or CBMall. I just search the products at clickbank. I do check out the free overture search tool at times and I will read any free info I can get. Other than that I keep it simple. Reread Googlecash and highlight things you might think will be important. You can always refer back to these notes and highlights.
I think all your other questions have been asked and answered on my blog. You really are in the right direction by doing. Keep working on your campains and remember to do what is outlined in Googlecash as far as limits go. If one doesn't profit, move on. If you stick with it, you Will hit one, you have too : )
Keep in touch and visit my blog for updates.
Regards,
Diane
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Keep working and never give up. Remember, I did 80 test before hitting it big. You have to jump right in like Gordon did. Hands on is the best way to learn. Don't put things aside, just do it. And never doubt your own success, why would you do that? Have the confidence to know this does work and certainly if I can do it, YOU can too.5E*^*^*^*^*
Keep working and never give up. Remember, I did 80 test before hitting it big. You have to jump right in like Gordon did. Hands on is the best way to learn. Don't put things aside, just do it. And never doubt your own success, why would you do that? Have the confidence to know this does work and certainly if I can do it, YOU can too.
Syria, habibi
Some people have asked me how living in Syria has been. I'm not sure how to answer a question like that. Living here is phenomenally fascinating. It's completely different from any other place I've lived, and learning a new alphabet and language so I could get around here has been challenging.
There are many things that I like about Syria. People here are really friendly and welcoming, even in the face of all the hardships life here brings and even to Americans. It's impressive to me that many people here are careful to make a distinction between Americans and their government, something that many Americans fail to do when thinking about the Middle East. It's shameful to me that fellow Americans speak so harshly about the Middle East when they know so little about it.
I like that it's relatively safe here, that I can walk around without fearing being mugged or attacked, even at night. I realize that this is because of the everpresent police force and that's discomforting. It's one thing that makes living in Syria sort of wistfully difficult. I want to walk around at night but I don't know if I'm willing to permanently live with such a police force.
I like living in Damascus, a city with so much history. It's the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world and it shows in the Roman ruins that dot the old city and in Straight Street, the street on which, in the Bible, Saul has an encounter with God, changes his name to Paul, and becomes an Apostle. Today it's lined with restaurants, shops, and houses. It's difficult to live here and not to think about religion, history, and how the thousands of years of history shape the way people here think.
There are things I will not miss about Syria, though. I will not miss men staring at me and making comments (such as the man next to me at the bank this morning who looked at me appreciatively and said 'So chic'. I had to supress my laughter, as I'm currently wearing black pants, a lime shirt, and some red and white socks with my black sneakers, as I got tired of rummaging through my suitcase looking for clothes that matched). It really is bothersome that men feel free to stop and stare at foreign women here. There are definitely double standards for foreign women. Whereas it would be awful for a man to whistle at a woman in hijab and just damning for him to touch her, as I've experienced, somehow it's okay for men to reach out and grab foreign women.
I won't miss the sadness of knowing the paradox of Syrians being such hard workers and having so much potential and the feeling that I get from some of my friends that there is little hope here. Syria is a beautiful place and, while it's difficult to predict what will happen, it's sad to think that there are people here with so much talent who might never get to use it.
Living in Syria has been fantastic. I'll definitely be back. No Inshallah about it.
One More Week
I have one more week left in Damascus and I'm finding even writing about leaving difficult. I didn't know what I expected when I came here and I'm not sure I know what to expect when I leave. It will, I imagine, be a bit of a shock to return to the US from the Middle East after 7 months, especially after being in a country free of the American consumerism that has spread across the world.
Smoke This
Two nights ago I went out to dinner with some friends for a good friend's birthday. We went to Ararat, a Chinese restaurant in the Old City. Yes, this is Syria. It used to be an Armenian restaurant and I guess when ownership changed and it became a Chinese restaurant they decided to keep the name. Just as there's something odd about seeing a McDonald's in a 600 year old building in Germany (go to Celle), there's something strange about seeing a Chinese restaurant in a wobbly alley in the Old City in Damascus.
The interesting part about this story is not the Chinese restaurant, though. The interesting part is the smoke. I've lived here for seven months now and this, combined with my previous 13 odd months in London, has somewhat acclimatized me to smoke. To give you an idea of what smoking means here, Syria is a place where my teacher made us have a discussion about the pros and cons of smoking for your health. Cigarettes cost about a dollar a pack here and you can smoke everywhere: schools, restaurants, and hospitals. Yes, hospitals.
I'm a strict non-smoker, I've never smoked, I never will. I've learned to deal with people smoking, which is fine. Though I don't smoke and really don't like smoke wafting around my face, people have a right to smoke.
At this restaurant, though, something was wrong with the ventilation and my eyes were burning from the smoke. I mean hurting so much that I was not only tearing up but I could barely open my eyes. And everyone except for me and one friend smoked, in shifts, it seemed. I asked if people could stop smoking because my eyes were really hurting and apologized profusely and one of my friends actually got annoyed with me for asking him to stop smoking. Another friend suggested that perhaps I sit at another table or go outside.
Had it not been my friend's birthday, I would have gotten up and walked out. I couldn't believe that my friends were being so obnoxious. It's not as if I was asking them to stop smoking just because I don't like smoke; the smoke was actually burning my eyes. I understand that smoking is an addiction but I don't feel that asking someone to stop smoking for an hour is a huge imposition.
Although I like Syria, the fact that there's far less smoke in the US is one reason why I will be glad to go back there. I like non-smoking sections in restaurants, I like that you can't smoke in bars in California and New York, I like that you can't smoke in hospitals. And as much as life in Syria can be nice, the ever-present smoke is awful.
