Paul Reid | Journal

Turkey

paul — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 13:37:47 -0800

I arrived in Turkey on October 28, and stayed for about one and a half weeks. It’s taken me this long to write an article about the last destination of my Middle East tour. A lot has happened since.

Entering Turkey was like entering a completely different world. Crossing the border from Syria completely transformed the entire trip. Arid, hot landscape transformed into mountainous, lush greenery. Suddenly everything was new and clean. But the most difficult change was the language!

This article is part of a series of nine articles describing my Middle East trip during the fall of 2009. The journey lasted almost three months and included seven countries: Yemen, Oman, Sudan, Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and Turkey.

Turkish

The Turkish language is unique in that it was totally a modern creation in 1928 to suit the ideological bent of Ataturk. Originally comprised of a large portion of Arabic and Persian words, it was written using Arabic script. Virtually overnight, the language was recreated into a “purely” Turkish language written with Latin characters.

I had my first exposure to the language in the best way possible. Just before entering Turkey, I traveled with a friend I met at the monastery in Syria. He was born in Turkey, spoke Arabic quite well, and lived several years in the US. With my background in Arabic, it was great to learn from an English speaker how Turkish relates to Arabic and Farsi.

Still, I was completely unprepared when I arrived in Turkey. Almost no one spoke English or Arabic! I couldn’t believe that more people spoke English in Egypt than in Turkey, a country that is trying to woo it’s way into the European union. I’m not complaining, though. I love to visit countries where English is rarely spoken. It was just an unexpected shock to me. After a while I adapted. Now I want to learn Turkish.

Izmir

I made a last minute change to my itinerary, preferring to visit friends in Izmir before arriving in Istanbul. I was thankful for the chance to adapt to the Turkish culture and language while staying with friends. While in the area, I traveled to the picturesque coastal village of Foça (pronounced “Focha”) with a friend studying video at a university in Izmir. We had a great time gathering source material for his class.

Activism

Next I traveled to a tiny village between Izmir and Istanbul to visit a sailor friend I met in Yemen. He lives in community where the members are focused on sustainable living and caring for the environment. They live in a beautiful spot overlooking the Mediterranean. We had some amazing food together, including Pekmez and other Turkish foods. It was also here where I learned the importance of the two–kettle approach to making tea.

While there, I had the unique chance to meet a small group of Greenpeace activists who were climbers in the organization and had actually participated in “actions”…sometimes resulting in jail time. I was intrigued by these gentle people who felt so strongly about the environment that they were willing to literally scale entire buildings and risk so much to create awareness of the environment. With all of the atrocities going on in the world, there are many ways to get involved in creating positive change. I wanted to know why this cause deserved a higher risk than others. I believe a person should consider carefully how they spend their time. If someone is willing to risk so much for a cause, they should be able to articulate why in such a way as to convince me to join their cause. Unfortunately the group left before I had a chance to have my question answered.

Istanbul

Istanbul was my final and possibly my favorite destination of the whole trip. Every day I had a chance to do something enriching. I attended the 11th International Istanbul Biennale entited, “What Keeps Mankind Alive?” (Oddly enough, the content was actually mostly full of political statements.) I visited the Mimar Sinan University of Fine Arts, hung out with artists and designers, and even saw some of the famous sights.

Özçay Visit

By far the highlight of the time in Istanbul was the chance to spend time with Mehmed and Osman Özçay. Mehmed is arguably the best calligrapher in the world, and the family is famous for it’s contribution to the arts for several generations. Upon entering the studio, I noticed the door, appearing normal from the outside, was a foot and a half thick! We were entering a “safe” containing his works, which can sell for $25k at high end auction houses. During my visit, the Minister of Culture from the United Arab Emirates called to chat. These men are known all over the world.

But it wasn’t always this way. Mehmed toiled away at the art of calligraphy during a time when it was considered old and dusty. Now that calligraphy is once again respected for the incredible art that it is, we can thank Mehmed for bridging the gap during a low point in the art.

The visit was made possible by Irvin Schick, the most knowledgeable person of Arabic calligraphy I have ever met. Initially he explained he was going to act as a translator for us, since Mehmed was unsure of my Arabic ability, and I spoke no Turkish. But I soon realized he was every bit as gifted an individual as the Özçays. A professor of applied mathematics along with a whole string of other “interests”, Irvin’s humility belied his giftedness. Yet he took it upon himself to inundate me with information about the art of calligraphy. His eyes lit up when explaining anything related to the art.

We spent much of the day together. Irvin met me on the European side of Istanbul, and we traveled together to the Asian side to meet the Özçays in their studio. We also spent the evening together at the studio of another Turkish artist gifted in both calligraphy and design. Just that one day together would have made the entire trip to Turkey worthwhile.

The most touching part of my visit was the way everyone treated me. Despite their business, each person was gracious to take time answering my questions. It was as if I were the dignitary blessing them with my visit. Yet I can say emphatically, “the honor was all mine.”

Thank you, Irvin, for all of your help and advice. Thank you, Mehmed and Osman, for your dedication to the art of calligraphy, and taking so much time to talk with me. Thank you, Istanbul, for such a captivating end to my tour around the Middle East.

Syrian Hospitality

paul — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 01:38:33 -0800

Once again I find myself without adequate time to write about my trip. I’m now in Turkey, but I know if I don’t write something here about Syria it just won’t happen.

Entering Syria was not as bad as I expected. Officially, I was supposed to visit a Syrian embassy to obtain a visa prior to my arrival. But not knowing the exact dates of my arrival, I didn’t want the headache of explaining the date change when I arrived. And honestly, the main reason I didn’t want to obtain a visa prior to arrival was to avoid the outrageous fee. (near $200?)

Instead I just showed up. I felt like I had a good story…living in Yemen…long journey…etc. Not surprisingly, the officer who I met at the border raked me over the coals a bit. I did everything I could do to make the process easier for him. Still, I had to wait three hours at the border while my taxi left me behind. Yet as I sat there, I reflected on my conversations with my Sudanese friends. I had complained about the “expensive” fees for American’s to enter Sudan. ($150) Yet the reality is, any inconvenience I may face while traveling pales in consideration of what so many others face. For example, my friends in Yemen must pay around $100 just for a US visa application which will likely be denied! As I considered these things while sitting at the Syrian border, I found myself hoping they would hold me there just a little longer.

Eventually they granted me an entry visa…for sixteen bucks. Then I hitchhiked and took buses to Damascus.

Damascus

Damascus was beautiful and I enjoyed every day there. But I did see plenty of other tourists there, and it’s mysterious attraction seemed to fade somewhat. I have a hunch that the best experiences in Syria remain in the small villages. Still, Damascus is a great place just to wander and discover new alleyways…and eat! I found myself wishing all the time that I was hungry again.

While in the city, I met the calligrapher, Ahmed Albari. Traveling with him to his studio, he would point out, “I wrote the script on that mosque” and “that one too”. His hospitality was just as one would expect from a Syrian.

Deir Mar Musa

A couple hours north of Damascus lies a monastery in the mountains near Nebek. There’s a lot to read about the place online so I won’t go into depth here. Unfortunately, it has turned into quite a tourist spot. When I arrived there were a couple TOUR BUSES lined up in the parking area below the monastery. But the folks I met during my couple nights there were quite friendly, and we had some awesome conversations.

My favorite part of Mar Musa is the library. I’d love to design a library like it in my home one day!

Menbej and Abdul Galil Elayaan

Probably my most memorable time in Syria was the time I spent with Abdul Galil Elayaan in his home in Menbej, about an hour and a half outside Aleppo. He is a highly skilled calligrapher who I first met in Damascus, but who insisted I visit him when I passed through Aleppo. He really showered me with so much friendliness and hospitality. He took me all over Damascus pointing out various calligraphy styles, and also invited me to his calligraphy class in Menbej. The night I stayed with him in his home, we stayed up late at night talking and working on his projects.

As I prepared to leave Menbej, Abdul Galil would repeatedly ask when I was returning, insisting that I return to stay and learn calligraphy from him. I must say I’m still contemplating the idea! But the most touching part of our parting came with our final cup of coffee. His son, maybe 7 or 8 years old, pointed out their jasmine bush on the terrace. When he saw that I was pleased with the powerful smell of the flowers, he began to pick every one of them off the bush. I stopped him from doing so, but in a perfect display of hospitality and creativity, he arranged them around the dish holding my coffee cup. His father smiling in approval.

Egypt and Jordan

paul — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 01:52:34 -0700

Travel can be a full–time job. While trying to maximize my time in each location, I end up compromising updates to my website. Each update tends to arrive a bit late. I am writing from Damascus, Syria, where I feel like I resonate with an excerpt from a guidebook:

“Legend has it that on a journey from Mecca, the Prophet Mohammed cast his gaze from the mountainside onto Damascus but refused to enter the city because he wanted to enter paradise only once—when he died.”

This place is incredible…I feel so at home here. Granted, I only arrived yesterday evening. But I have received none of the hassles from Egypt with minimal congestion, and endearing friendliness. And the Old City is spectacular. I see several tourists, but it is still charming. The food is even better than I expected.

I thought this article was about Egypt and Jordan?

Right. So let me attempt to briefly summarize them.

Egypt

In short, I liked it better than I expected. I arrived in Egypt with my fists drawn—ready for a fight with touts, liars and scoundrels. I did receive a bit of hassles from bad guys, but it was not as bad as all the stories I’ve heard. And surprisingly, my worst hassles were in Aswan, then Luxor, THEN Cairo. I expected the opposite. Many people in Cairo were so friendly. And Luxor was not so bad either.

“Immense” Luxor

I enjoyed Luxor and was totally unprepared for how incredibly huge the monuments would be. I kept saying to myself, “I’m never going to use the word ‘immense’ again in my life.”

Yet, as immense as everything was, it was still not large enough to conquer mortality. And this fact left the larger impression on me. For as enduring as the monuments are, they are still just the stuff of this Earth. Humans try so hard (at such a great cost to human life!) to “live” forever, yet all our attempts are futile without placing our trust in the Eternal.

Luxor, you’re big. But you’re still crumbing.

Buzzing Cairo

Life in Cairo is a whir. Everyone and everything is in motion. Yet, there is a warm friendliness to the motion…something I find lacking in almost all other major cities. It seems that people are all running at break–neck speed, but they can still take time to sit and have tea with you. I found myself surprised that I was really enjoying the big city.

Still, every day spent in Cairo seemed to wear away at my soul. I am a mountain man, not a city slicker. Cairo seems to be the New York of the Middle East. I thrive in creative, collaborative environments, but the constant press of human, animal and machine mingled with cigarette smoke (everywhere) in unfathomably confined spaces really took it’s toll on me. Many wonderful people I met in Cairo insisted that I stay…that I continue Arabic and get a job. And knowing that people make the place, they we’re tempting me. But inside I now know I could never live in Cairo unless by Divine providence!

I also learned a valuable lesson a little too late in Cairo…establish your primary artist contacts and develop those first, then see sights. My time in Cairo seemed very inefficient. By the time I left, I was trying to establish connections, but the short notice did not allow for personal visits. I left quite disappointed with myself.

However, the time wasn’t entirely lost. The highlight was a visit with Khodeir Mosied Alborsaidi, one of the foremost traditional calligraphers in the world. For the Arabic nerds reading this, he was the one that wrote the cover calligraphy of the Hans Wehr dictionary (though I would say it’s a sad implementation of his work by whoever designed it). His studio has such an enormous amount of work, one could spend years viewing and analyzing everything. Khodeir even wrote a very touching note in my journal.

Conversation was also the highlight of my time in Cairo. Eslam, my host in Dokki who allowed me to stay with him for several days, offered a wealth of incredible feedback and perspective on the Middle East. My last day in Cairo was also priceless, as I spent the time with Adham and his friends, who graciously took me on a personal tour of the city. But more important than the tour was the rich conversations about religion, culture and true submission to God.

Was that Sinai?

I think I visited Sinai. I mean, it was on my itinerary. But I moved in and out so fast, the memory is already fading. Take a look at my route:

Wednesday

11:00am: Depart Cairo by bus
This was supposed to be 7 hour bus ride, but we arrived 3 hours late
9:00pm: Arrive in al–Malga (town near Mt. Sinai)
I got out of the bus with another couple who were booked in St. Katherine’s monastery guesthouse (at the base of Mt. Sinai) so we could share a taxi. Arriving after everything was closed, we were treated like anything BUT guests. While trying to work out passport issues, the couple (growing weary by the moment) was not permitted to eat their food (growing cold) until everything was worked out. I also was not permitted to buy even snack food for the longest time for the same reasons. I had a very poor meal on the bus and really needed a solid meal before climbing the mountain. They finally let me buy a few things.
10:45pm: Began climbing Mt. Sinai
I didn’t want to stay in a hotel just for a few hours, so I had decided to begin climbing the mountain when I would arrive. (I knew this would require me to haul my whole pack up and down the mountain, but it wasn’t any heavier than the pack up Rainier.) However, I didn’t expect to start so late! But ironically, it was a priceless experience. Imagine climbing Mt. Sinai BY YOURSELF in the almost full moon light in silence. It was an experience I will never forget.

Thursday

12:00am: Summit Mt. Sinai
4:00am: Awake to pilgrims singing and making commotion.
5:00am: Pray in the masjid on the mountain
7:00am: Descend the mountain
This, quite unlike my experience going up, was a cattle drive. Bleh.
8:30am: Begin to look for transport to Nuweiba
My primary goal was to find transport to Nuweiba because I needed to catch the ferry to Aqaba the same day. Transport in Sinai, unfortunately, is unlike the rest of Egypt and Sudan. It’s just tourists. So finding someone to give me a lift other than a private taxi (read: $$) was tough.
10:00am: Bus to Dahab
I ended up hitching a ride with a group from Dahab (on the way to Nuweiba) and became engrossed in conversation with a “secular zionist Israeli”. Not realizing I wanted to get to Nuweiba asap, the driver suddenly told me to get out and find a car going the opposite direction to Nuweiba. Tragedy struck when this happened, but I’ll mention that below.
1:00pm: Book a ticket on the 3pm ferry to Aqaba, Jordan
3:00pm: Uh, was that supposed to be a 3pm ferry?
4:00pm: ABMarine doesn’t really stress timeliness
5:00pm: Hey, the “fast” ferry is moving.
6:00pm: Was that supposed to be a 1 hour ferry?
8:00pm: Arrive in Aqaba, Jordan and take taxi to Petra
10:45pm: Arrive in Petra, begin searching for hotel
11:00pm: Check–in to hotel

So in exactly 36 hours, I traveled from Cairo, climbed Mt. Sinai, spent the night, traveled to Nuweiba, took the ferry to Aqaba, Jordan, a taxi to Petra, and checked into a hotel there.

Sad News

The tragedy I mention above involved my journal. In the flurry of activity getting out of the bus, I left my treasured journal in the door of the bus. It contained some priceless perspectives of my friends along the way, and it really opened up doors for me with so many people. I am currently trying to locate a person in Dahab who can go to the bus stop to look for the journal. I think I’ll buy another in Damascus, but the time put into the first one will be lacking.

Jordan

My time in Jordan was short. Most of my time was spent hiking in and around Petra. Most people recommend visiting the park in two days instead of one, so that’s what I did. I spent the Sabbath on my second day hiking in the surrounding mountains. And the mountains are stunning! They reminded me of Moab, Utah with the variety of strange shapes and forms. I would sit for awhile on a shaded ledge and just gaze. Sometimes the only way through a canyon would be to climb through a little cave! I think I found that day more incredible than the prior day looking at monuments. I also ran into a few simple tombs and found evidence of human activity, but it was more amazing to me because I felt like I was the archaeologist discovering it for the first time, rather than with hordes of crowds. It was just me, a bunch of food and water, the scriptures, and my uke.

Amman

Intending to only pass through the city, I felt like I was more productive here in 12 hours than my entire week in Egypt! I met artists, visited a couple galleries, had valuable conversation, watched a film screening, ate some good food, and even saw some Roman ruins! But the most amazing discovery I found in Amman was at the “House of Artists” (Dar al–Fanun) where I found my dream library. I would seriously consider flying to Amman again JUST to visit that library and read. Thousands of rare and out of print books on Islamic art and calligraphy were free for the reading.

I hope to update the website sometime around November 1st with an article on Syria, but check for Facebook and Twitter updates before then.

Journal: On Nasser Lake Ferry

paul — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 14:00:00 -0700

This article is taken from a notebook journal entry.

Time: 7:00am Saturday, September 26, 2009
Location: Sitting on the top deck of the ferry from Wadi Halfa to Aswan

Last night I slept on the top deck of the ferry. The weather was great and stars were amazing. Orion was on our starboard side. I had some of the most meaningful conversations with two new friends, Moamer and Amjad…both Sudanese. Moamer is actually of Moroccan Jewish descent, but said “When the Mehdi came to Sudan, they told us to convert or die, so my family became Muslim.” We had an amazing, wonder–filled conversation last night as we looked at the stars and asked questions like, “why Did God create humans?” as we looked at the stars and considered how infinitely small yet significant we are.

It is Sabbath and I will once again be in a difficult situation when we land in Aswan today. I don’t think the Egyptian officers will be too understanding of my Sabbath convictions and allow me to pay for my visa later. I thought I could take care of it in Halfa, but the Egyptian embassy was closed for Jummah.

I am realizing too much has already happened to catch up. The last couple of days, however, deserve special mention, so I’m going to bounce around, chronologically.

Thursday night, after we finally arrived after dark in Abri, I was tired, hungry and thirsty. I felt very alone as people completely ignored me when I arrived…I felt like they saw me as a piece of cargo to be unloaded. They’d say “hey German” pantomiming like I’m retarded, and I’d say “I have a name. It’s Nooradeen.” No response. Not one person greeted me…though I said “Assalam aleykoum” several times. At one point, I guess I had enough, because I told one guy: “Look, I just arrived here. I’m a guest and tired and thirsty, but not one person has greeted me.” He just shrugged. Fitting.

Now imagine what happens next.

I drop off my things at the town’s only lokunda and race off to grab some water before the little shops closed. The call to prayer went off, and I felt compelled to go instead to the masjid and pray.

I arrive, and while washing, a guy named Zakariya (from Saudi) gave me a hearty greeting. I was so thankful, I told him so. I enter the prayer hall. Immediately I notice men that appear distinctly Pakistani with very long beards and even longer faces. The obvious occurred as I was out of place. I satisfied their first burning questions (Where are you from? Are you Muslim? What on Earth are you doing here?) before prayer. After prayer, I got up to leave (Having been in similar situations before, I knew the inevitable and was not up for an all–nighter.) and the man next to me insisted I sit for “three minutes only” while another began reading from Hadith. I complied. Sure enough, it was only a short read and I greeted them and got up to leave.

But I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. They caught me at the door and we began talking again. It’s necessary to mention just the appearance of these guys would scare most non–Muslims to death. The guy with whom I spoke at the door had absolutely the most fantastic beard I have ever seen. It extended to his navel and was just turning gray with tinges of henna. At one point, I told him what I thought of his beard and he ceremoniously kissed my forehead.

They were here for dowah (calling people to Islam, or submission to God), but having spent eight months in a tiny village in northern Sudan, the obvious question is, to what are they calling the Muslims in this area? This is the land that harbored one notable international character, and most people would probably be quick to jump to assumptions. But the fact is, assumptions are often wrong no matter how conclusive the clues. And even now I avoid judging them.

Despite many pleas to stay and sleep in the masjid with them, I decided to leave. They offered everything I wanted at that point: Food, water, rest, deep conversation, and most important, friendship. I knew finding any transport to Halfa in the morning would be hard (Jummah) and my main focus was to catch the Friday ferry. However, I told them I would come to pray with them for the 5:00 am prayer, insha allah. And I meant it.

Be it an accident or divine providence, the call never sounded, though I was awake and praying in my outdoor bed at the lokunda.

Journal: Journey across the Nubian Desert

paul — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 14:00:00 -0700

Time: 1:20pm Thursday, September 24 2009
Location:In a “boxi” (Toyota Hilux pickup with covering in back) on way from Dongola, Sudan to Abri, Sudan

This is probably as good a time as any to start the journal I have been procrastinating to start since I arrived in Sudan. Really I have nothing to say about the Phoenicia except that I will probably appreciate it one day. Once in Sudan, my perfectionistic side made writing difficult. My ideas for making a beautiful journal are out the window. People don’t seem to put the care and focus into their entries as I would have liked. I pictured meeting wise, old sages writing their epic tales and sharing their careful, balanced opinions from a quill pen in a mystical, smokey old room. Instead, I either can’t find people literate enough to write, or the ones that do merely jot an idea down, as if they were fifth graders trying to fullfill an assignment before recess. I’ve met a few “thinkers” who seem quite inspiring in their ideas, but they seem to prefer communicating orally. This, of course, makes sense in a n Arab society. The real travesty is my inability to understand them fast enough to record their thoughts. I fear, too, that the introduction of TV, radio, and other modern technology is turning the super–human collective memory of the Arabs into a mushroom. They don’t appear to care about retaining the wisdom and history of their forefathers. I think they do see the value in it, but I presume (perhaps wrongly) they think it just comes automatically. When they realize the stories are dead and gone it will be too late.

The setting in which I write is about as close to an excerpt from the tales of Ibn Battuta as one can get anymore. No one travels across the desert in camels anymore. Instead, there are 15 of us packed into a “boxi”. Three are sitting in the cab, while 12 of us are spread out (or, rather crammed in) between two benches in the bed. There were 11 of us at first, but we picked up a guy along the way.

Each bench is designed for five, but the new guy and a young girl make the fit just about right. The girl is spread out and sleeping on top of all of us. Most of her is right in my lap. My legs are numb, but as I look around me, I think I have the best position out of everyone, so I can’t complain. We are all surrounded by a metal frame supporting our luggage and protecting us from the sun…though not from the hot wind and sand billowing through the back. When we left Dongola, I was told this was a six–hour journey to Abri, but the guy next to me is hoping it is closer to five. At the current speed, it feels like we’ll arrive closer to 12 hours. But the odd thing is I wouldn’t trade this for the world—contrary to my feelings aboard the Phoenicia.

[We have just stopped at a “rest stop.” It is a thatched hut with nothing else in sight. There are six, 50–gallon drums and three large clay pots/jars filled with murky water from which the people drink. I asked the proprietor of this establishment whether the water comes from a nearby well, but there is none. Instead, they truck in water from the Nile. I find it amazing they also have two electric coolers/refrigerators with semi–cool drinks inside. I’d ask how they obtain the electricity, but I’d rather not stir up any suspicions. They’d probably think I’m a spy. There are also mats spread out for folks to pray on them. Just sitting in the shade seems 10° cooler. We’re back on the road and I found out they have an old generator behind the hut.]

Perhaps I should work backward in writing my experiences, since so much as transpired. I am on my way to Abri, the last major town before the border town Wadi Halfa, where I hope to catch the ferry to Aswan, Egypt. This morning I was actually in another “boxi” headed to nearby Kerma, but as we set out, I got to talking and found out the transport from Kerma to Wadi Halfa is nine hours. The ferry leaves tomorrow (Friday) at 5:00 pm. I was going to miss the ferry! So I stopped the Boxi and took a rickshaw back to town. The direct Boxi to Halfa had already left so I’m getting as close as I can to Halfa today. The locals assure me it will only take two hours to arrive in Halfa from Abri, though my guide book says six hours. I’m going with the locals since the paved roads are relatively new and the guidebook is two years old.

I must admit I couldn’t wait to get out of Dongola today. The Lonely Planet guide says of Dongola: “Famous for it’s palm groves, the relaxed little town of Dongola is full of character and boasts good amenities.” If Dongola is LP’s version of character, I can’t imagine a place they would describe as without character! Before arriving, I had fabulous ideas of a quaint village with pleasant Nile–side views and lots of shade, but instead I found a town completely devoid of character. All the hotels/lokundas were full except the worst one, and they charged 50% more (a whole US dollar! :) ) for a lokunda.

[At this point, we lost our paved road, which wreaked havoc on the truck. We had to stop a few times to fix or repair various things grinding, rattling or breaking off. Once someone’s luggage fell off and we had to retrieve it. One of our stops was in a tiny village with a gorgeous grove of palms next to the Nile. I kept thinking, “Perhaps the LP writer thought this was Dongola? While there I was the source of great amusement to the kids—one of which was a joker doing his best attempt at alien babel–talk while the others laughed. One girl asked for a “Qalam” (pen/pencil) which I was pleased to find again outside Yemen. I gave a whole box of pencils without a thank you. One came back asking for a gift. By the time we arrived in Abri, we had been traveling over eight hours. I’m convinced that if I were a Toyota pickup, the last place on Earth I would want to live is Arabia, where the motto is… “As long as you’re still moving, no need for preventative maintenance.]

I used a rickshaw (sometimes called a “Tut–Tut” to search for a room. During the ride, I witnessed a classic moment as my driver pulled over, took out a pair of pliers, opened the engine hatch behind me, and proceeded to whack away with a vengeance. Satisfied, he got back in and we were off again.

Like every other place in Sudan, Just when I had written off Dongola as a waste of time, it changed. I decided to splurge once I found out about a nice Egyptian restaurant not in the old town. It turned into a fun evening as I met and talked with Farsi and other folks. We discussed religion and language mostly. Farsi speaks Nubian and said it was the only language his mother speaks. They live near Kerma.

Sudan - Khartoum to Karima

paul — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 14:00:00 -0700

I sense that Sudan is a country that requires a long visit, perhaps even a year, to have a fair, balanced perspective. While in Sudan, I really fought the inclination to judge a place immediately. No sooner had I written off a place as unfriendly and inhospitable, someone would invite me into their home. I’m a little ashamed to say that I usually didn’t like most places at first, but then over time they would really grow on me. This reaction is quite unlike my experience in Yemen, where I connected and loved the place and people instantly. As in any place, I have had my moments in Yemen where I want to tear out my hair in frustration. But Sudan appears elusive to me. It didn’t attract me immediately, but over time I sense my feelings changing. This should be evident in the fact that just as we took off on the ferry from Sudan, I called everybody I met along my journey to say goodbye. I really sense that the Sudanese people could really be true, deep friends. Actually, I sense that they would eventually show me I know nothing about friendship.

And that’s something that has caused me to ruminate as well. What is true friendship? Is it mere shared experiences between people of mutual interests? Or is it more? Too often I sense time with friends is rushed. True friendship takes time. Perhaps I sense a special friendship with the Sudanese because that is exactly the thing they DO have. Time. Perhaps some of us should live a simpler and even more uncomfortable life in order to have more time to give to our friends?

Hospitality in Khartoum

My time in Khartoum was really blessed. I was the guest of the ADRA Country Director and his wife, who really did their best to make my stay as enjoyable and productive as possible. Later, as I traveled north of the city, I would reflect on their hospitality as I met others along the way. Arabs love to say their culture is unique for it’s hospitality. And it is true that there are many aspects to Arab hospitality that outshine other cultures. For example, when a person visits an Arab in their home or even on the street, they will almost always receive an invitation to drink together. Arabs love to be generous with their means…often meager in places like Sudan.

But I must say that there are many aspects of hospitality in Western society that are overlooked. And my time in Khartoum is a prime example. I was treated like a son and felt welcome the entire time…despite whatever added burden I became to them. Not only this, I have had countless experiences in the US where people offered their homes, tables, cars, time and love to me. And I think that I, along with many Americans, downplay our culture and say that we have a lot to learn. But it really comes down to perspective. What may be considered rude in one culture is not an issue in the other. In an upcoming article I will write about my time in Abri, Sudan. I was so frustrated and lonely when I arrived in the small village. No one even greeted me and they even seemed to go out of their way to ignore me. But when I entered a restaurant, I finished my meal and someone had paid for me. I didn’t even know who it was. It’s weird…how do I react to the town? Is it hospitable or not? Hospitality is a multifaceted concept.

Downtown visit

The second day I was in Khartoum, I set off for the downtown area. I wanted to break the fast with people somewhere. As I set off on a bus, I tried showing my map to people but to my amazement, not a single person knew where we were on the map. None of them could even find the Nile river! (This, I found throughout the country, even by some educated people. They just don’t use maps.) I was a bit alarmed since I rely on my ability to know where I am in a foreign place in order to find my way back home. But it all worked out. I met some awesome guys in “Souk Afrengi” and “Souk Arabi” that provided several hours of conversation. I wished several times I could take a picture, but pictures in Khartoum can get a person into trouble. So I have almost no pictures of my time there.

Later, I traveled downtown with the ADRA Yemen Country Director—a Sudanese himself. It was really great to hear his stories about growing up in the city and learn about various places along the way. In one place, we just walked right into someone’s home while the guy was sitting on his couch watching TV! It turns out they were old friends. He, a Muslim, brought out drinks for us and was very surprised to learn that I was fasting. He drank my drink instead!

SED program

While in Khartoum, I had the chance to visit a few ADRA projects. The first was the SED (Social Enterprise Development?) program located about 45 minutes outside Khartoum. We visited what appeared to be “the projects” of the city. It was featureless area covering an enormous amount of land. By featureless, I mean just that. There truly was nothing to see, but perfectly straight rows of tiny, square, mud–brick houses as far as the eye could see. In most places, not even a tree, bush, or blade of grass could be seen. I really sensed here my blessings profoundly. The ADRA team here works with locals to train the people to use their resources to improve their lives. I was impressed with the team leaders that I met. One woman insisted that she marry me. I smiled and said, “Uh, thanks, but it’s not possible because…” But couldn’t think of a reason fast enough. The group laughed.

Umjawasir

ADRA Sudan also has a project about three hours north of Khartoum in the middle of the desert. They drill wells for the people to irrigate their farmland. The project has had great success. I heard a story that even airplane pilots talk about flying across the desert and can’t believe the green patches they see.

Here too, is a vast, barren area. But for some reason I felt much more at home here than in the SED program. It was still wild and free. We even visited some wells that were hand–dug generations ago. I felt like I was visiting Jacob’s well!

Karima and Merowe

After my time in Khartoum, I set off by bus for Karima, a small town on the Nile far north of Khartoum. I was fortunate to benefit from the new roads constructed by the Chinese. It was not too long ago that one had to make the journey by truck along rough tracks of sand. What would take a long day years ago now only takes about four or five hours.

Karima was a beautiful village. I especially enjoyed walking through the palm groves along the Nile. It appears to be the vacation spot for all of Sudan, too, since there are several pyramids from the Nubian days and a mountain called “Jabal Berkal”. I arrived just at the end of Eid (basically like Christmas holiday season in the US) and the place was FULL of Sudanese. I’m probably in many a photo album (or mobile phone) as everyone unabashedly took pictures of me, giggling with glee. I was the only non–Sudanese there, that I could tell.

Well, I should say I saw a caravan of foreigners making their way in their Landcruisers. They were staying in an outrageously expensive hotel in town. My hotel was US$2 per night. Theirs? My slightly old guidebook says US$175 per night. I was happy to be in my very dirty “lokunda” though. I felt so much closer to the people.

I spent most of my time walking and hiking. I covered a lot of territory in unbearable heat. I spent over twice as much money on water as I did on my hotel per day! The locals actually use conveniently placed clay jars in the shade, filled with water from the Nile. But the water was murky at best. I’d probably adjust to it if I lived there, but I certainly didn’t want to get sick this early in my journey.

All–time worst beard trim

I’m not carrying a knife to trim my beard because I want to be able to carry–on my bags for flights. So after awhile my beard gets unmanageable. I met an Egyptian barber and he gave me a trim. He started off with my head tilted far back and I knew he was going too far, but I said to myself, “Let him do whatever he wants.” I felt so disgusted with the result that I almost had him just shave it right off. To me, I prefer the mountaineer look. This felt more like a cross between a wife–beater, pimp, arrogant western film badguy, and womanizing sleazeball…everything I hate. I never thought I was so particular about it. I took a picture and I think you might agree. When he finished, he refused “payment” but insisted I give him a “gift.” His broad smile grew more sinister as he really started to put the pressure on. I considered it a warning of the land where I was headed just north. Egyptians unfortunately have a reputation. The thought of arriving in Egypt alone is not a pleasant one.

You can view some related videos here.

Two weeks hard time aboard the Phoenicia

paul — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 05:51:17 -0700

I’m trying to think of a way to describe the last two weeks aboard the Phoenicia. Honestly, “imprisonment” is the only word that comes to mind. I’m trying not to consider it all a big mistake. Perhaps I am just reeling from the whole experience and making a hasty analysis. I have never actually served time in prison, but this experience is the closest I have ever come to incarceration. I don’t want to sideline the privilege to crew the Phoenicia during it’s journey around Africa. But I have never felt so powerless and confined to a place in my life. Not only that, it robbed me of the chance to see Oman as well as Juba and Darfur in Sudan.

Initially the plan was to depart Aden, Yemen August 25 and arrive in Salalah, Oman September 4. But there were numerous issues with the boat which delayed our departure. Setting out on August 30, we anticipated a six day journey. In the end, it took almost two weeks! Little or no wind attributed most to the delay, but human error also played a factor. When we finally arrived in Salalah, we had lost power to run the electronics and the motor.

Seasickness

Three of us became seasick almost immediately after leaving Aden. Even one of the older, seasoned Indonesian sailors threw up twice. However, my sickness was the worst. In the first 24 hours I had thrown up five times, the last time actually vomiting solid food. (quite frightening) It was miserable, but I was determined to kick it. Immediately after throwing up, I would drink and eat again to regain the lost nutrients. At one point, I laid down exhausted with my head resting on the deck, covered in watery grime trying to escape the heat. In those conditions, it can be hard to keep a positive outlook. Fortunately my nausea improved on the third day, though it would return again throughout the trip. It was only the last night on the boat that I was barely able to sleep below deck, due to the noxious fumes and smell of the diesel motor. Instead, I spent my nights on the upper decks, waking each day to drenched clothes from the moist air.

Dirt, Grime and Sludge

Before meeting the crew in Aden, the captain told me, “Bring clothes that you don’t mind throwing away.” I had no idea how serious he was. The entire time I worked on the boat was a losing battle to stay clean. In the end, I simply gave up. Every surface of the boat is treated with a tar-like waterproofing sealant. Engine oil, diesel fuel and noxious fumes pervaded everything. I decided early on that any clothes I wore would be destroyed at the end of the trip, so I chose only a few clothes to contaminate, the rest I sealed up in my pack. But still, my entire pack and it’s contents now reek of the smell.

I have been dirty plenty of times before, camping and hiking in various back-country environments. But normally I am a neat freak. I like to have everything clean, especially my hands. I’m the guy that takes a knife and carefully scoops out honey from a jar in just the right way so that none of it goes over the edge. Imagine someone like me in an environment like this…as I watched others take the honey jar and just dump it, wipe the sticky edge with their finger, and lick up the residue. I watched as other crew members would take a dirty plate of food and swish it around in a bucket of stale, soapy water, then put it on the “clean” rack. At meal times, my dishes always required some kind of wiping. But what does one use to wipe? We quickly ran out of paper towels or tissues, and every surface of the boat was slimy. I was fighting a losing battle and knew it. I realize manly men like to be grimy and sharing grit is a fun way to share in communal male bonding. In this case, I ain’t a manly man.

To wash, we bathed from sea water in a bucket. Just this morning I took my first real shower in about three weeks. I couldn’t believe how filthy I was. I had never been this dirty in my life. It was as if I had an extra thick layer of crusty flesh all over my body. Sorry to be graphic, but wow, that’s sick.

Daily life

I should move on to lighter things. I don’t mean this article to be a rant!

You might be curious to know what one does for days and days at sea. It is actually more tiring than one expects, so during the times when you are not working, all you feel like doing is sleeping.

The crew was split into two watches:

Watch A

Philip (ship captain)
Dirman
Me

Watch B

Doug (watch leader)
Sulhan
Aziz
Warren

We divided each day into setup five watch cycles, and each team would alternate. The nighttime watches were given 6 hours each to give the crew more time to sleep. So the schedule went as follows:

8:00am—12:00pm (4 hrs)
12:00pm—4:00pm (4 hrs)
4:00pm—8:00pm (4 hrs)
8:00pm—2:00am (6 hrs)
2:00am—8:00am (6 hrs)

The times at the helm were quite enjoyable because it gave me many opportunities to talk with Philip a lot and learn from him. The long night shifts were the most difficult to stay awake. Often Dirman and I would often sing to keep ourselves awake. But in my exhaustion, I often really enjoyed those early mornings as dawn appeared and I could just sing away.

Paradoxical views

While at the helm with Philip one night after a few days of little or no wind, and our arrival looming further, I confessed to him that I had never felt more imprisoned in my life. We discussed how funny it is that people hold paradoxical views toward sailing. Some feel set free, while others feel imprisoned. As I pondered my feelings further, I realized that normally I am one who feels set free when sailing! But take away the wind (the actual sailing part!), throw in a lot of grime and nausea, keep extending your arrival date, and the feeling can suddenly reverse itself. Take any activity that you enjoy and when forced to continue doing it, the thing is no longer enjoyable.

While on the ship, I updated the Phoenicia website blog. You can read it here.

One really awesome part of the trip was the wildlife. You can see some pictures of the birds that hitched a ride in the gallery. Also, I have a video of the whale we saw below. Unfortunately I couldn't capture the sea boiling with what seemed like a hundred dolphins one morning. What an amazing sight!

The Phoenicia finally arrived in Salalah late Friday night. Saturday morning after clearing immigration and customs, I was whisked off to the airport to try to catch my flight that had been graciously delayed by the airline. (While on the boat I was able to send a message via satellite phone to the ship team in the UK, who kindly contacted the airline and rebooked my flight.) In less than 24 hours, I was in Khartoum.

But it was too late.

The organization I am visiting here, ADRA, could not change my travel permit with the Sudanese government, and therefore could not book a flight for me to visit Juba in southern Sudan. Not only that, my original plans to visit Darfur were dashed for the same reason. Now, it looks like I am confined to only visiting projects in the Khartoum area. I am still going to try to work something out to visit Darfur, but it is not likely an option anymore.

Still, I’m so happy to be in Sudan. I am already meeting people and hearing interesting stories about their culture.

I’m still updating the Google calendar when my itinerary changes, so you can continue to follow the rest of my trip there.

The following are some videos taken aboard the ship. I honestly didn’t really have the enthusiasm to record much while we sailed. I didn’t write hardly anything in my journal either. Bleh.

Phoenicia Leaving Slipway in Aden from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

After days of delays, the Phoenicia finally leaves the slipway (dry dock) for Salalah, Oman. You can't really tell here, but they yanked us out so fast it felt like an amusement park ride.

Phoenicia leaving Slipway - Pt 2 from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

This was after we cleared the slipway. Shortly after taking this video, we had some very tense moments as the Yemeni coast guard kept yanking the boat around like cowboys. We came dangerously close to the rocks and they almost rammed the boat with theirs. They had no respect for the type of boat it was, treating it like a steel hull.

Motoring while leaving Aden from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

Here we are motoring as we leave Aden.

More motoring from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

More motoring before sailing.

Testing the LRAD from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

Here Philip is demonstrating the LRAD (Long Range Acoustic Device) to the Phoenicia crew. The LRAD is designed to incapacitate pirates/attackers by the use of high volume directed sound waves. Fortunately we didn't have to use the device on anyone.

Dirman catches a fish from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

Dirman caught a beautiful Dorado fish for the crew. The fish actually changed colors like a chameleon!

Break from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

Somewhat boring video. I wanted to capture the rocking of the boat, but you really can't tell how strong it really was.

Morning Sail from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

My favorite time aboard the Phoenicia was during the sunrise. There is no way to describe the feeling of watching the sky change from black to hues of pink and blue.

This is the only video I have that somewhat simulates the motion of the boat while sailing.

Here we don't even have the main sail up...unfortunately this became the norm toward the end of the journey.

Aziz making lunch from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

This is a somewhat humorous video. It takes some practice to learn how to cook on a swiveling stove! You should have seen it was the boat was REALLY rocking violently.

A Whale from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

A whale was one of the highlights of the marine animals we saw. Before this video was shot, you could even see his tail fin. Beautiful surprise.

ME Tour Begins

paul — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 05:22:25 -0700

I can’t believe this is really happening. I am now in Aden, Yemen about to embark on this whirlwind tour of the Middle East. As I wrote earlier, this trip is long overdue. However, some major details about the journey have changed…warranting an update here.

Map showing Paul’s Middle East tour. Click the image above to view the updated itinerary.[NOTE: Blue lines are overland routes, and red lines are water routes.]

The main update is the itinerary change. I’m now spending three weeks in Sudan! Initially wanting to focus my attention on networking with artists and designers throughout the journey, I didn’t plan to spend much time in Sudan. But it’s an amazing country and some really incredible opportunities are likely to open up—namely a visit to Darfur. Just getting a visa into this country can be difficult at times (Crew on the Phoenicia tried several times for weeks without success.) and to have an escort throughout the country in the most difficult to reach areas (might travel by helicopter!) is a priceless opportunity. However, my visa application has still not been approved, so we’ll see.

Another change is instead of visiting Luxor, then crossing the Red Sea from Hurghada to Sharm el Sheikh, I’m skipping Luxor and the ferry to head straight to Cairo. Yes, I know. I’m crazy to pass up the “Valley of the Kings” and everything in Luxor, but I had to trim somewhere. I’ll just do all that when I’m an old geezer. This trip isn’t about seeing the sights so much as it is to network and listen to people.

Another sad change is the sea crossing by yacht from Istanbul to Egypt. I really needed that time in Syria and Turkey, since I added another week in Sudan.

The Journal

I’m excited to mention I will be keeping a journal along the way. It is titled “رحلة في ثقافة الشرق الاوسط” (“Journey into the Culture of the Middle East”) I will be sketching and writing about details along the way, as well as asking questions. I thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to ask people in all these countries the same questions?” So that’s the plan. So far it has been hard to get Yemeni’s to write down their answers…they usually prefer to talk than write. But we’ll see. It’s going to be a ton of work to translate it all into English, but good for my العربية.

These are the five questions I finally decided to use:

Share a proverb from your people
اعط مثل شعبي من بلادك
What is something unique about your culture?
ما هو الشيء الذي يميز ثقافتك عن غيرها؟
What can you do to promote peace in your sphere of influence?
ماذا تستطيع ان تفعل لكي تدعم السلام في المحيط الذي توًثر فيه؟
What is true Islam? Don't mention one of the five pillars, and please quote an ayat (verse) from the Qur'an to support your answer.
ما هو الإسلام الصحيح؟ و لا تذكر الاركان الجمسة. و دعم إجاباتك بايات من القران الكريم.
If you could change one thing in the world what would it be?
اذا استطعت ان تغير احد الاشياء في العالم فما هو؟

Here are a few pictures of the journal. I decided to burn the design into the notebook, but it took forever and the effect was not as dramatic as I hoped (like the burnt look in wood) so I abandoned the idea once I finished the map. I also messed up on the cover, but covered up my mistake.


Journal Cover	Cover Detail	Back Cover

Map CU - Arabia	Map CU - Sinai	Map CU - Yemen

The Boat

So I am now in Aden getting ready to depart on the Phoenicia this Tuesday. I was on the boat yesterday and was quite impressed with it. It is bigger than I was expecting and quite complex. There are all kinds of tools, mechanisms and procedures for everything. I am learning things like “This is a fire pump.” and “This toolbox is for…” and “Don’t sit too close to the radar or you’ll get blasted with radiation and become infertile.” I hope we get to play with the LRAD gun. Monday we learn a bunch more, including a session on pirates. I’m a little disappointed we don’t have a plank to walk. Arg.

I also met the crew today and am looking forward to spending more time with them. The expedition leader, Philip Beale, is quite knowledgeable about sailing and instills confidence. I will be the first American crew member. The breakdown is as follows:

One Aussie
Two English
Three Indonesians
One American (that’s me)
Any Yemeni we can convince to join us

The three Indonesians were with Beale on his previous expedition, and Beale described them saying, “We go back a long ways. These are the finest sailors one can find.” I look forward to learning from everyone on the ship.

The interesting thing is that I am the only Sabbath–keeper and vegetarian on board. I will also be joining one of the crew members fasting Ramadan. I’ll probably be playing my uke and sing songs about Jesus. I’m sure to be the source of confusion as they try to figure me out. :) Actually, Aziz and I may not fast the whole time. The Qur’an gives allowance for travelers, which we certainly are, and we may need the water and food for energy during the day. We’ll see.

I was also assigned the task of updating the ship’s daily online blog. There is a satellite phone on board and I will send the updates to the UK office who will update the website. So do check it out during our voyage, Aug 25 — Sept 4.

View the initial pictures I took of the boat here.

Calendar

I am embedding an online calendar here, which will update each time you visit this page. Any last–minute changes to the plan will be reflected here, so you should always know where we are. You can also click the following link to view it separately. Feel free to share this link as it is publicly viewable.

Paul’s Middle East Tour Calendar

Prayers

I would appreciate your prayers during the trip. It will certainly be difficult at times and full of challenges. However, I would also appreciate your prayers for Meriah.

Meriah is the daughter and first child of my dear, close friends Adam and Crissy. Crissy gave birth to Meriah on Tuesday, Aug 18 but Meriah aspirated merconium fluid and the initial prognosis was very grim. (It has been hard at times to be excited about this trip when I know that those whom I love are suffering.) Since that time, it has been an emotional roller–coaster as she changed from a comatose state to reacting to stimuli to opening her eyes. There is concern that she has most likely suffered severe brain damage. But I believe in miracles. And I’m asking those who also believe to pray for her. Stay updated by visiting the No Less Days website.

Want to Stay Posted?

You can do one of the following:

Register on this website and choose to be notified of updates
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Video tour of my home in Sana'a

paul — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 04:40:52 -0700

This is a very informal journal article. I just thought you’d enjoy a little visual tour of the Old City on the way to my house. It would be nice to plan and record this a little better, but I will be traveling soon and wanted to give you a chance to see where I live before I leave.

View the image gallery here.

Videos

Keep in mind, taking videos from a camera while walking is a very difficult thing to do. But you get the idea. Many thanks to my housemate for taking the video while he was just getting over his sickness!

There is a lot more to the Old City! I just took a more direct route because I didn’t want the video to be too long and have an enormous file to upload.

Old City of Sana'a Tour - Part 1 from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

PART ONE
A very informal walk through the old city of Sana'a, Yemen. Really would have liked to plan this better, but I thought some folks would enjoy even a rough take.

PART TWO
For some reason the camera stopped the video in part one, so here we pick up just the last minute or so near my house.

Old City of Sana'a Tour - Part 3 from Paul Reid on Vimeo.

PART THREE
This is a tour of my home.

Upcoming Middle East Tour

paul — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 04:17:57 -0700

Exciting times, these are. I thought I should write an update on the things that lie ahead.

Having spent two and a half years in Yemen, I am beginning to know the culture well. I have tried to be very intentional about spending my time with Yemeni’s to learn how they think and live. Before my arrival, “I longed for a time, which I was sure was not very far away, when my horizon would be widened by looking through the eyes of another.” (Margaret Bourke–White) Indeed, it brings joy and pain to see the world through the eyes of another. But a sacred duty.

Yet through all my experiences in Yemen, a nagging sense has pervaded me. I may have a better understanding of Yemen, but can I truly say I understand the Arab society and culture? Yemen may technically be “Arab”, even the very roots of Arabia, but the reality is most of Arabia is far removed from the Yemeni way of life.

So I’ve decided to do something about that.

Next month I will begin a whirlwind tour of the Middle East. And quite incredible circumstances will begin my journey.

The Phoenicia

A couple weeks ago I met a family of five from Ireland/Aussie that have spent the last five years sailing around the world. (Nice way to homeschool, I might add!) Their boat ran aground off the coast of Yemen, and through a friend, we met up in Sana’a. We really enjoyed our time together, and in the process explained to them my love of the sea and sailing. They insisted I contact their friend, Philip Beale, who has a “boat” in Aden.

Map showing route from Aden to Salalah. Click the image to view it larger.

That boat is the “Phoenicia”. A replica 600BC sailing ship circumnavigating the continent of Africa. Leaving Syria last year, it has already received a bit of press, including a BBC film crew who documented part of the journey. After the expedition is completed, the ship will spend some time in the British museum in London.

So I contacted Beale. And he said “yes”.

Well, actually he said “you sound an ideal candidate to help us crew the ship up to Salalah!” Wow. Despite the fact that my sailing experience is minimal, I’m in.

I won’t be circumnavigating Africa. Rather I will sail from Aden, Yemen to Salalah, Oman. There are still a lot of details to cover, but the plan is to leave August 25 and arrive in Oman 10 or so days later. Once in Oman, I hope to visit Muscat, but I may not have time because of my next plans…getting to Sudan.

7/18 UPDATE:

Sam sent a link to some videos of the ship's journey so far. Here they are:

Sudan

As a member of the ADRA Yemen board, I will be traveling to Sudan for a board meeting in Juba, located in Southern Sudan. ADRA Sudan is hosting us, and I intend to arrive a little early to design some print materials. Then during my stay, I hope to have a chance to travel around a bit.

Egypt

From Khartoum, Sudan, I intend to sail up the Nile river to Aswan, Egypt—a three day journey. From there I travel to Luxor and the Valley of the Kings. Next I travel to Hurghada where I will take a ferry across the Red Sea to the Sinai peninsula.

While in Sinai, I will stay at a monastery below Mount Sinai. I will also pass through Dahab, a cheap dive paradise. Unfortunately I won’t have time to get a dive license. And that isn’t the purpose of my trip anyway.

Map depicting my travels from September until November. Click the image to view a larger version.

Jordan

From the Sinai peninsula I will take another ferry to Aqaba, Jordan and make my way up to Petra. I don’t intend to spend much time in Amman, but may take a short trip to the West Bank. From there I will make my way to Damascus.

Syria

Damascus! This will be the highlight of my journey. For years I have dreamed about visiting this amazing city and see firsthand the famous Syrian hospitality. I will search for artists, calligraphers, photographers, musicians…anything related to the arts. I may even make plans to live here!

Deir Mar Musa

Just north of Damascus is another monastery called Deir Mar Musa in the desert mountains with a neat story. Their focus is interfaith dialogue between Christians and Muslims, and they welcome visitors!

I will also visit the city of Aleppo in northern Syria, famous for it’s sprawling souks (markets) and lively culture.

Turkey

If time permits, I will make the long journey to Istanbul. At the crossroads of the arts and cultures of East and West, much has been written about this amazing city. Unfortunately it is no longer the “bargain basement” deal it once was. My meager backpacker budget won’t allow for a long stay. But we’ll see.

Sailing from Turkey back to Egypt

My friend Sam lives near Istanbul with his family. I am also trying to work out arrangements to sail across the Mediterranean to Egypt. Most sailors are traveling North–to–South this time of year, so it shouldn’t be difficult to find a boat needing a crew.

My intentions

This isn’t a leisure package tour. I don’t intend to sip vege–martinis on my beachside villa. Really, when I think of a trip like this, I’m excited about the people I will meet. I might have Petra on the itinerary, but I can predict that it will mean nothing compared to the stories I will hear from people along the way. I want to learn and be enriched. I want to hear stories and be immersed. In particular I plan to meet artists and designers. There is a lot of great art being created by unknown artists around the world. I’d like to find them. I’d like to do a lot of networking and potentially find some good work partnerships involving peacemaking or bridge–building. The reality is, a trip like this deserves a year, at least. But since my funds will not allow for such a long journey, I’ll try to pack it all in by the beginning of November.

Needed!

I have a big request. Help a guy out. :)

I’m sailing on a replica Phoenician ship. I’m visiting some of the most amazing places on Earth. I need to gather stock images along the way. The travesty is, the only camera I own is a point and shoot. It takes decent pictures, yes. But I need a digital SLR and a couple nice lenes. I say “need” knowingly. A LOT of you folks have your fancy DSLR cameras, and you don’t even know how to use them. :) Ok, you use them, but you take pictures of your kids swimming in the tub. Great for you. Really. But I NEED this.

The good news is someone has offered to send their camera and a nice prime lens, but the camera is broken. We intended to fix it, but there isn’t enough time for various reasons. So if you have any of the following, or something similar, would you consider loaning it to me? Your camera (and your kids in the tub) will be forever grateful. The images will be put to good use. Trust me.

Needs:

A Canon SLR camera (must be digital, not film)

With VIDEO capability (Canon 5D Mark II is first choice)
Digital Rebel Series

Lenses (need to be Canon EF not EF–S)

50mm fast (1.4) prime lens Check! Someone has offered this.
Fast wide angle zoom or prime (biggest need)
A zoom lens with image stabilization

I’ve put these things up on my Amazon wishlist too.

The main challenge with this is shipping and time! Fortunately I have someone leaving from Washington DC who is happy to bring these to me when he leaves for Yemen, but he needs to have the items no later than Friday, July 31.

Want to come along?

Finally, it would be so much more fulfilling to travel with you! If you have an interest in the Middle East, art, design, calligraphy, Arabic, and good food, why don’t you take a break and be enriched? Come for all or part of the journey. Some parts, like the sailing trip from Turkey to Egypt would be more difficult with two people, but anything is possible.