Tag Archives: Middle East

Petra with Bedouins

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Petra has been my dream since I was a wee girl. In my mind, it was a dreamy place with eerie beauty, secret kingdom inside rocks. Later, I sat hours and hours in the university lecture halls, listening professors and archaeologists (one of whom even looked like Indiana Jones, and to whom all the girls had a hidden crush) telling about the wonders of Petra. And now, finally FINALLY I have seen it with my own eyes.

I must admit that I was scared to go in there. I expected so much, and usually when you have high expectations you might disappoint bitterly. I knew it was a highly touristic place with a lot of locals trying to sell stuff, but I tried to keep my humor. As Lonely Planet even reminded: the Bedouins have lived in the area for centuries and have their right to be in there. After all, despite the tourist masses and sellers, I managed to see the place without all of them, with my inner eyes.

In the Siq, the narrow magical gateway, a local guide played from his cell phone the theme of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (which has been partly filmed in Petra). The tune echoed from the rocks around us, and it was actually rather funny. And when I saw the Treasury opening from the Siq, I even had tears in my eyes. (A photo of Treasury is in maikulian.com)

I don’t even try to describe how it all looked like. I simply don’t have words for that. I will upload some photos later, but as even TE Lawrence wrote home in 1914: “You will never know what Petra is like, unless you come out here… Only be assured that till you have seen it you have not had the glimmering of an idea how beautiful a place can be.”

One of the best descriptions, however, is made by an Italian chef called Giorgio, who worked for the Victorian era English poet and painter Edward Lear while he traveled in Middle East. “Oh, Signore, we have come into a world where everything is chocolate, ham, curry-powder and salmon”, Giorgio remarked. Can you say it better?

We had bought two days tickets (for 26 euros per piece, not cheap in there!) which was truly needed. The area is huge, and I wanted to see it in my own pace – well, I could have spend there weeks I guess. Good idea is also to rent a donkey from the Bedouin boys, but you have to bargain hard.

We made friends with one of the boys, Muhammad, 13. He had his own donkey business with two well kept beauties. Impressively, he goes to school in the mornings but spends his afternoons and evenings renting donkeys to tourists. The money he gets, he said, goes to his mum to help the family of six siblings, and actually he has two mums, as many Bedouin families have. Muhammad had a laugh when I teased him if he is going to rent his donkey to the Jordanian king who was due to visit the site same night. “No, the king has a car”, he replied. “But why he couldn’t have a donkey?” I insisted. Muhammad rolled his eyes: “Because he is the KING!”

Muhammad and his donkey Jackass

Muhammad and his donkey Jackass

Because the king came, we were kicked out the site at 5.30 PM. Which was probably good, since I was exhausted, and ended up to be fully asleep at 9 o’clock. We had been planning to get up next day early to see the sunrise in Petra, but just couldn’t get up. I felt like dying, only my will-power to see more got me to move. I couldn’t understand why I felt so tired. All my muscles, joints and bones hurt.

In the entrance, we surprisingly met a Finnish tourist group. We had a nice chat with some of them, they were on a day trip from Eilat, Israel, and the first tour group in the area since the second Intifada started.

While I was letting my inner archaeologist out in the Urn tomb, Sasi was waiting down and had company. A teenage Bedouin girl obviously had quite an interest on him, since he looked like a hugely popular soap opera star, or so the girl claimed. Interesting enough, the Bedouins seem to have all the modern luxuries like satellite TV’s. The girl liked Sasi’s green eyes so much that I almost could see her eyes as shape of hearts, and I teased Sasi the rest of the day about that.

One of the highlights of my Petra visit was the church where archeologist had find carbonated papyri archives, and which the Finnish archaeological team had researched since the end of 1990s. Was nice to see the place which I had studied years ago.

Then we decided to get up to the Monastery. The state I was, I knew that I couldn’t climb up the 800 steps, so I rented a donkey to get me up. Easier said than done. The furry creature clippety-clopped up the steep steep stairs, his hoofs just next to the gorge. At the moments, I had to close my eyes and just trust that he wont slip. I have a huge respect now on these animals, and refuse to use the word donkey in the meaning of a stupid person anymore!

As I waited Sasi to climb up, I had a chat with a Bedouin girl. I asked if she was married. “I am 18!” she snapped to me. “I want to keep my freedom, I don’t want to get married yet!” When I said I don’t have kids yet, she agreed: “No need to make babies young. Better to live first.” It seems to me that Bedouin girls might have more freedoms than Arab girls usually. At least I hope so.

Up in the Monastery we had yet another talk with a young Bedouin guy who introduced himself as “Caveman”. He lived up there in a cave, and also accommodates tourists in there (21 euros per night per person, I recommend). He also thought its pointless to get married young. “There are plenty of girls, both local and foreign, to have fun with”, this handsome guy claimed. He said he liked to live in there, because life is free. Freedom, it seems, is highly important for Bedouins even in the modern world. I understand completely, since what else we backpackers are than a sort of Bedouins.

Oh, by the way, there is a plan of another American movie to be filmed in Petra. There was a movie crew taking notes and measures of the Monastery, but they couldn’t tell us which movie it will be, because “we would end up in prison if we would tell and violate the contract”. Anyhow, it has to be something big since the king himself had invited them as his guest and sent his helicopter to pick them up.

We spent so much time with the Bedouins up there that it was almost dark when we were down in the valley. Everyone else had left already, and Petra was all ours in the light of rising moon. Once in a lifetime experiences. Well, it almost turned to a nightmare when we entered the Siq which was pit-dark already. I had my small head-light, but other than that, it was dark dark place, except the few occasions when the moonlight reached the bottom of the gorge. It was like walking underworld, quiet, dark and spooky.

Sasi in the Underworld

Sasi in the Underworld

When we finally get through the Sig and up the hill to the entrance, I was so relieved I almost cried. Not that I was so scared but the fact that I have probably never in my life been so physically tired. Back in the hotel, we got the explanation: I had almost 39C fever. It continued for 3 days, and we never quite find out why. I think it was simply my body saying: enough walking in the ruins, tens of kilometers per day. As Sasi had prognosed before: “Your love of history will kill us one day”. Well, it almost did. But it was all worth it!!

Maiku, still alive

A serious adventure!

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It has been a long time, shall we?!

Shall we do what? you might ask. Well, we were in a mall, and you might wonder now why you go to a mall in such an awesome country.

Reality is, after our Syria trip and our experience in the Syrian-Jordanian border we decided to take it slowly for a few days in Amman. Amman is a city like no other in the Middle East.

You can say it is similar to Beirut, but more organized, more clean, and more in love of it’s politicians (The King). We thought that a day or 2 will make us feel better there, but then we ended up visiting the roman Jerash and looking at the beautiful oval Agora. After all, with Maiku you cannot miss a place!

Maiku is exhausted at the time being, I think she has never seen so much ruins in her life on a row, neither have I. We visited Jerash on a day trip, oh and that was an expensive visit. It seems to us that Jordan is not a backpacker destination since its prices are more expensive than in Syria and even in Lebanon.

We let ourselves go wild and do more than we could, then we figured that we needed rest, so we headed to a second hostel (the first one was truly a shithole) and just slept and slept, and then we went wilder than anytime ever on our trip – in 20 days we had never been in civilization neither ate anything else than Middle Eastern food (Syrian version was awful) so we headed to get some “Freedom Fries Land” aka McDonald’s, you might say we are evil but it was necessary for us to do something different back than. (Talk just on your own behalf, Sasi, adds Maiku, who had to compromise after forcing him to go through so many ruins!)

Well, our Big Mac was located not exactly on the road but in a small heaven called Mecca Mall, where you can find any Western product or chain you dream of.

The story of Petra will be soon published by Maiku.

Sasi, in the middle of the desert!

Tourist pollution

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Damascus and much needed rest. Thanks to our Finnish friend S (and the future hairy male immigrant; four-legged though), we could just sleep, eat and enjoy their excellent company – and not to forget Finnish women magazines, oh Heaven!

From Damascus, we did also a 2-day trip to Palmyra Roman ruins, which are in the Syrian desert. The ruins themselves were of course magnificent, but the town around them not so much. It is a small town which sees way too much of tourism, and people’s attitude is… um… shitty.

I don’t mind too much of kids shouting photo, photo, except when EVERYone of them we walk by does that. Not to mention the kids trying to sell postcards/cheap jewelery/”authentic” handicrafts etc. Their older brothers and fathers on the other hand are trying to insist to come to their restaurant/hotel/taxi etc. And I mean, EVERYone of them does that. It was virtually impossible to walk on the main street of the town.

What comes to so called tourist facilities in the town they were non-existent. All the hotel personnel in every places we went to ask the prices were really arrogant, and waiters in the restaurants and coffee-shops were rude. Am not asking for any special treatment, just basic manners like saying hello and not throwing the plate to the table (expensive and almost uneatable food on top of that). I had constantly the feeling that someone is going to spit on my face, so bad it was. And of course, the verbal sexual harassment and suggestive looks were constant even if I was with my Arabic-speaking husband (this didn’t happen to me anywhere else in Syria, by the way – curious looks, yes, but not harassment).

We came to a conclusion that it is because of tourism. It is always the worst in the places which huge amount of tourists go to – tourists with thick wallets. They give impression that all the Westerners have huge amounts of money and are easily to be ripped off. It is truly a shame that Palmyra is like this, since it is the place most of the tour company tourists go to, and it really gives a bad image of Syria. Syrians are friendly, kind and hospitable people, not rude assholes like in Palmyra. I highly suggest to go to Palmyra only to visit the ruins, not to overnight in there.

Also, we had a long conversation about the Arab male manners with S in Damascus. That is something we unfortunately cant have much of effect, so we just have to tolerate the occasional harassment (which luckily is not so bad in Middle East as it is in India).

But the curious thing, we thought, is the dressing habits of some Western female tourists. It is not that they dress too sexy, just the opposite. For example, I was in Aleppo dressed in a normal way – modest t-shirt and jeans – and two European female tourist looked at me much much angrier than locals have ever done. They themselves had long tunics and skirts on them.

I, and also S, who both have more experience about the culture in Middle East than occasional tourist, we just think it is stupid. We have seen tourists even wearing head-scarfs, which is the peak of it. It is not our culture to wear it, and quite many of the local women don’t also wear one. Especially in cities like Aleppo, Damascus or Amman, which have huge Christian minority, its totally unnecessary to dress up like in Iran. Locals dont respect tourists more, actually they laugh at them – believe me, I understand what they say behind your back!

I also think it is a sort of racism not to be able to see the diversity in Middle East. Furthermore, it can actually harm the local girls who want to dress like – well, Britney Spears (and yes, you see girls like this a lot in Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, and I suppose in Egypt, too). If they choose to wear clothes like that, let them do that.

Of course, am not saying that we should wear hot-pants or mini-skirts since, unfortunately, that is asking for trouble in here. But modest Western clothing in the cities is not an issue. In the countryside, especially in the Bedouin areas, am wearing long sleeves and long skirts, too.

Maiku, who finally had to get rid of her favourite pair of jeans since they broke fourth time. Bohoo!

Blessed to see the world

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When you travel in countries like Syria and other Middle Eastern ones, it is funny how you discover that you are really lucky to live elsewhere and be part of a society that gives u the chance to see the world. It’s a chance to drop it all, and travel with the wind.

Well, we know that there is a cost for that and it is called to be on credit but, then again, what is money for if you do not take the risk. A risk that is high when you travel in Europe. We have been seeing the difference while traveling in Syria; cheap traveling is so much easier here.

We went on from Homs to Hama and then Aleppo. I could say Aleppo is truly a medieval city, with its souks and citadel which unfortunately we couldn’t see because it was closed for a private event related to the Eid. As a traveler, you don’t feel like you are visiting a city in the year 2008 but as if you were a visitor to an old fortress, an old world.

Aleppo is huge but definitely beautiful: culture, history, soap, silk, citadel, mosques and churches, new town and old town – all are things to discover for sure. The best tips we could give you is, as even Lonely Planet said, drop the guidebook and loose yourself in the street of the old town and the street of Al-Jdeideh, the new town from 16th century.

I can assure you that Syria has been the safest country to travel. Nobody interferes with you and you can have it all, you can see outstanding places, taste sublime Aleppan cuisine (like cherry kebab – yummy!) and wonderful sweets, and shop until you drop.

We have discovered a lot on our way through the Syrian coast and those major cities and the awesome historical points of interest around them. We have met good-hearted people of the countryside welcoming us, we hitch-hiked with trucks, sheep and in back-trunk, and I can assure all the ones sitting in their offices reading this blog that this trip is a must do. Get the heck out of that bubble and go see the freaking world before you are too old to carry your bags (am referring to me and Maiku and our heavy bags :) )

Last night, we took a night train from Aleppo to Damascus which was a good choice, the first class for the price of 3 USD was a heck of a comfortable place even though old and rusty and a bit noisy, but it gets you to your destination.

Syria is not so closed country as much as the Western media tends to show. It has nice and hospitable people. You just got to speak some Arabic and watch out from the taxi drivers. Well, they are assholes everywhere.

Sasi loving it!

Dying donkeys

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The easiest way to move around Syria is hitch-hiking, it seems. People are really willing to give lifts, and even more so if you are foreigner. Of course, its easier for us since my beloved husband is native Arabic speaker. So we have had quite interesting drives around.

In Homs, we got a lift of a father of fifteen(!), who was smuggling petrol from Syria to Lebanon. It is more expensive in there, so it is huge business in the villages on Lebanese borders. Although the prices have risen in here too in the last months, so the profit is not so good anymore. But the smuggling is a problem for the Syrian economy so the regime tries to control people buying petrol on border villages. So this guy used us to buy some more to say that he was taking us to Hama. He didn’t, obviously.

Hama is a cute small town between Homs and Aleppo, on Orontes river banks. Their major tourist interest are the Norias, huge water wheels which take back to 14th century. Problem, nowadays, is though that Homs is taking all the water, so there is no more water in the river for the wheels to work anymore. And around the town, there is plenty interesting things to see.

We hitch-hiked to another citadel, Musyaf. Musyaf is another stunning example of Syria’s wonderful  Crusader castles, but its better associated with the Assassin (Ismaili) sect of Islam – the mysterious Shiia Muslim sect which gave the word assassin to English language. The Ismailis captured the castle after the Crusaders in 1140, and had guerilla warfare against the Syrian Sunnite leaders. Saladin tried to siege the castle but called it off after an incident in his own camp. In the camp, surrounded by Saladin’s guards, Saladin woke up in the middle of the night and saw a figure of a man slip out of his tent; there was a dagger and note at the foot of his bed – a warning from the leader of the assassins. Warning was enough, and they reached an agreement.

It had incredible dark corridors, secret chambers and tunnels. I really enjoyed adventuring again, and imagining the times past. Atmosphere was truly spooky, and once again I got almost heart-attack with the shadows. I was lighting my way in one of the pit-dark chambers with my camera flash when I saw a shadow in the wall which was empty two seconds before. One missed heartbeat later I realized it was my own shadow casted by Sasi’s camera flash. But oh man were all my hairs up. I think I might have a bit too vivid imagination sometimes.

Some part of the hitch-hike from Musyaf to Apamea ruins we got from a local science teacher, a Christian man who was also a human rights activist. Another interesting chat on the way.

Apamea, Afamia in Arabic,  is an old Roman city. It used to have population of half of a million, so it used to be a big and rich city. It was most famous in the Ancient world by its excellent horses and war elephants. We were able to explore the ruins almost alone, only guided by a gentle local maiden – with four legs. This incredible intelligent dog actually showed us the way to the cathedral ruins when we asked her nicely, and accompanied us the whole afternoon, until the thunderstorm started and we had to find shelter from the ticket-sellers booth. Luckily, we didn’t need to wait for long to see a car; and we managed to get a lift from there all the way to the door of our hotel in Hama - offered by Ukrainian tourist couple.

Next day and new adventures. This time our way toke us to the Dead Cities in the midst of the Syrian countryside, truly in the middle of nowhere. These Byzantine era Dead Cities were abandoned in about 6th century, and no one quite knows why. They are still standing almost like back then, and once again we had really good time playing Indiana Joneses.

The way back was interesting. First we jumped on the back of a pick-up lorry of a sheep farmer. I think the sheep have been in the back recently since I smelled like them even back in Hama. On the other hand, the smell could have also stucked me on the next lift which we got from a local veterinary doctor. The last drive was the most interesting, though. On the Aleppo-Hama highway, we stopped a huge truck with two trailers. The driver kept us entertained with his stories of driving the truck to Iraq during the both wars. At present, he said, its too dangerous business though.

Now we have been in Aleppo for a few days. I must say all our adventurers have started claim their prize. We simply cant walk properly at the moment so sore are our feet. We are exhausted, simply. Sasi was laying on the hotel bed the other morning making sounds between sneeze, laugh and cry, and I told him he sounded like a dying donkey. Then I got hysterical burst of laugh, which I just couldn’t stop before I almost suffocated. Tears rolled down my cheeks but I coudn’t help it, I just kept laughing and laughing. After I got a bit to my senses, I called off all the plans of the day. We needed serious rest.

Very tired Maiku