Big boys
Heureka!
Just after I wrote the text below, I found a secret way of getting photos on-line. I won't tell you what it is, because it's a secret. But the below was true when I wrote it... so read away!
Well, the Syrian government is still cracking down on my blog photos, so presumably until I cross over to Jordan in a few days, it'll have to be all text and no fun...
Or is it Mr President himself, Assad Jr, who is doing the cracking?
Coming over the Turkish border was moving from the Ataturk cult to the Assad cult - both are definitely countries with "big boys". In Turkey pictures of Ataturk, father Turkey (did he coin the name from Father Christmas I wonder?), were everywhere - on calendars, on jigsaw puzzles, on posters. It was easy to see when we crossed over to Syria, since Ataturk's stern and determined face was replaced by the rather chinless visage of Assad Jr, president of Syria.
Whereas daddy-Assad was apparently a bit of a ruthless (can I say the D-word?) - erhm, power figure, his death left Junior holding the baby. In the photos, JR seems a bit baffled, embarased by all the attention, rather than the stern captain of the Syrian fleet. I even managed to get a live look at him today on arrival at Damascus. Well in fact what I saw was a cordoned off square, blue-clad school children in a row screeching his name and finally a dark mass of security men and video cameras. Somewhere in there was the big Junior himself.
First impressions of Damascus are very favorable. And the hospitality continues to exceed itself. This time I was not only led to my hotel from the bus, but also had my backpack carried for me the whole way.
It also feels good to get out of Palmyra, which was the first touristy place I have been to in Syria. Since it's low season, the restaurant and hotel owners were very proprietary towards the few tourists around, to the extent that if you ate once at a restaurant, but failed to return to it for your next meal, you had to go around the block to avoid walking past that restaurant, or you would get an earful of complaints from the owner (or an earful of Beduine-style massage fingers if nothing else). Damascus has a very different vibe, where life goes on irrespective of the tourists, not due to them.
Or is it Mr President himself, Assad Jr, who is doing the cracking?
Coming over the Turkish border was moving from the Ataturk cult to the Assad cult - both are definitely countries with "big boys". In Turkey pictures of Ataturk, father Turkey (did he coin the name from Father Christmas I wonder?), were everywhere - on calendars, on jigsaw puzzles, on posters. It was easy to see when we crossed over to Syria, since Ataturk's stern and determined face was replaced by the rather chinless visage of Assad Jr, president of Syria.
Whereas daddy-Assad was apparently a bit of a ruthless (can I say the D-word?) - erhm, power figure, his death left Junior holding the baby. In the photos, JR seems a bit baffled, embarased by all the attention, rather than the stern captain of the Syrian fleet. I even managed to get a live look at him today on arrival at Damascus. Well in fact what I saw was a cordoned off square, blue-clad school children in a row screeching his name and finally a dark mass of security men and video cameras. Somewhere in there was the big Junior himself.
First impressions of Damascus are very favorable. And the hospitality continues to exceed itself. This time I was not only led to my hotel from the bus, but also had my backpack carried for me the whole way.
It also feels good to get out of Palmyra, which was the first touristy place I have been to in Syria. Since it's low season, the restaurant and hotel owners were very proprietary towards the few tourists around, to the extent that if you ate once at a restaurant, but failed to return to it for your next meal, you had to go around the block to avoid walking past that restaurant, or you would get an earful of complaints from the owner (or an earful of Beduine-style massage fingers if nothing else). Damascus has a very different vibe, where life goes on irrespective of the tourists, not due to them.
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