Middle East Trip: Day 2

Day 2: Arrival

After layovers in Atlanta and Prague we touched down in Damascus close to 23 hours after taking off from XNA. The flight in from Prague was only half full: Syria is not a prime travel destination I’m thinking. I would later learn that the American Embassy has only reopened this past spring for the first time since 1984. As Americans traveling in Syria we were going to appear a bit of a novelty. Almost immediately my senses were overwhelmed with sights and sounds that were new and novel. At the airport many men and women wore traditional clothing including burqas.

We all stayed close together as we passed through customs. In one line a middle aged Syrian in contemporary clothes turned around, looked me over from head to toe, looked back my eyes, smiled and said: “Hello”. I immediately felt a bit more at ease. Wahid and Laila soon found us after we cleared customs with warm greetings. We were all touched when we saw the mother of an Iraqi family that traveled with us on the plane run up to her father joyously, even falling to his feet and hugging them as they greeted. For me it was an untold story. I wondered if the trouble in Iraq had played a role in splitting up their family, or of keeping them separated for some time.

Wahid got us loaded in a mini-bus. I was cautioned not to take pictures at the airport; it might be deemed sensitive for security reasons. Soon we were rolling through the streets of Damascus, the luggage piled precariously in back and Carol at times propping herself again the pile to keep it from descending on top of all of us.

Bloudon is a resort town in the mountains west of Damascus, about an hour away by bus. The town is warm but breezy when we arrive, and we are quickly taken in and led to our rooms, which are clean if modest. We are without air-conditioning, just a large ceiling fan, but we have a porch and windows to help ventilate. The staff deliver two towels, four 1.5 litre water bottles and a roll of toilet paper to the room I share with Jonathan Holder. Dick Nelson is on the one side of us, Rodney and Carol Holmstorm on the other side.

We have dinner at the outdoor restaurant downstairs which is all unfamiliar but tasty food to me. Tired from the traveling (I only slept a total of maybe 4 ½ hours on the plane) and wanting to be fresh for the morning start of teaching, we headed off for bed. Not that good of an idea. Because of Ramadan, the heat and the resort atmosphere, Bloudon only starts to really come a live at sunset. Our first night was probably my worst as far as sleep. I was repeatedly awaken by loud motorcycles racing through the streets in front of the hotel. I was later told that was probably Saudi’s who like to vacation in Bloudon. I was also awaken by some sort of firework/sparkler that sounded like wood burning. I woke up wondering where I was, then thinking the hotel was on fire and panicking a bit when I remembered they had not returned our passports. I had visions of me running out in the streets in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but my athletic shorts and without my passport and knowing no Arabic. I quickly realized it couldn’t be a fire because there is no wood in the hotel to burn: all stone, concrete and tile.Although it was at time light and fitful sleep, I went back to sleep and it felt good.