Tel Aviv - Israel

I must make an apology to my lovely friends in Tel Aviv for seeming to forget about them entirely. Indeed that's not what happened at all, in fact, Tel Aviv was absolutely one of my favourite places and experience on my trip and maybe because it was such a big deal, I bypassed it in my blog. So here goes...

I'd been in Israel for about 1 or two weeks when I got to Tel Aviv. So far I'd loved the experience and found it really interesting. But it wasn't until Tel Aviv that I felt like I was in and amongst it. My beautiful friends Katie and Omer had me at their house near the lovely Masaryk Square for about 2 weeks. I wont tell you about the city, or its buildings, the streets or the beaches, to me, those things were a give. Those things are the material and they exist everywhere, but I will tell you how this beautiful city challenged me and the things I thought I knew.

I really had some time to consider the situation between Lebanon and Israel while I was there - how I felt about it, what it meant, whether there was any sort of hope and I began to question what was happening more and more. The longer I stayed, the more I felt at home. That was a strange thing in itself and sometimes brought up issues for me around feeling patriotic towards Lebanon and my family although beginning to understand a different side of what was going on. It always comes back to the same thing for me. People are people and for the most part in this world, we appear to follow our governments and their ideals. This is in fact so untrue - particularly of Tel Aviv. I'm not sure if it was a risk I was taking, but I told most people that I met what my background was. This generally brought on interesting conversation and I began to find, particularly in the younger generation, that no-one agreed with what was going on, and that killing people in a fight for land was not something that they wanted. This is the same for the younger generation on 'the other side' in Lebanon.

I think what people need to understand about the conflict and the way people are dealing with it - from the conversations I have had.

When there is conflict that threatens you or your family, you will try anything to be safe. Sometimes, that may mean supporting the people that in essence are creating that conflict but are also your only protection against it. What a way to live. For most of us, particularly those who live in Australia, we have no idea, i repeat, no idea what that feels like. We live a safe and sheltered life and don't have reason to think that a rocket may come plummeting into our house at any time. So while people may not agree with the politics, they are still protective. There are also many more factors than the news lets on - we are spoon fed information and it is only the information that the governments want us to know, so they can go and do their dirty work behind our backs. I think this is true for Israel and Lebanon. There is much more to understand but what I got from the experience was that these people look just like me! I was mistaken for an Israeli on several occasions. There are mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, children, grandchildren, weddings, birthdays, deaths, and births the same in both countries. The only difference is that the people living in these two countries don't know each other and are closed off from the ability to connect - this is politics way of forwarding its agenda to get what it wants. As long as people think that the other side are the enemy, they will continue to think that way. I got to see it from a different perspective - I am one of the lucky people - I now know more than I ever did and want to do what I can to bring these two sides to more of an understanding by sharing what I know.

I stayed at Kibbutz Nir Oz, with my friend Katie. This was possibly one of the most important experiences of my time there. This particular Kibbutz is situated right next to Gaza, and by right next to, I mean, there is a field that separates the two. You could hear machine gun fire off in the distance and I was told stories of how people had been shot when working out in the fields. Fair enough, those things i'd assume are a given. They were in the process of building bomb shelters on the back of each Kibbutz dwelling - but they did so with a fair amount of indifference. You see, for the people that live there, those risks and dangers are a part of their life. From the people that I spoke to, you never got the sense that they lived in fear or were waiting for something horrible to happen at any moment. This is their life. This is how they live, and they live each day as it comes, because when you live in a place like that, there is no other way to live. I will treasure my experience there and the people I met who shared their time and stories with me.

My friend Zev asked me one day if there was any hope (for Israel and Lebanon)... I told him that as long as we are trying to conquer the divide, as long as we continue to be the beginning of the future even simply through our friendship and conversations, of course there is hope. There is always hope.

Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman

LONDON!

I had one day in London in transit on my way to New York. At least that's what I thought. So - I tried to pack in as many things into a day as I could.

First I decided to be a super tourist, something I haven't really done so far on my travels. I got the double decker bus that does a hop on - hop off service throughout London, either with a tour guide or an audio tour. Really it's quite cool. Not as cheap as getting a rail pass for the whole day, but well worth it because you get to see all the main things in the city. I'm usually rather bored by monuments and buildings and such, but I didn't mind it so much in London. All I kept thinking was, 'this place is huge, and really really old'. On one of my bus trips an Irishman sat next to me and we got to chatting. We got told off by a sour faced woman who said she wanted to hear the tour guide. I quite nearly told her to get a hearing aid but thought better of it. So, with a new companion for the day, I saw it all. Big Ben (which is actually not called Big Ben, that's the name for the bell inside that only chimes on the hour) River Thames, on which we took a free cruise and were thoroughly entertained by one of the boat operators who wasn't really a tour guide, but did a better job than most I had for that day. He made several jokes about the English keeper who dropped the ball in the US vs ENGLAND game last week - not bad at all. Buckingham Palace I have to say - was a bloody disappointment. Nothing really to see... a big building that was nothing special, and I missed the changing of the guard which was probably the best thing going for it.

There's a really great vibe about London. There's so much going on and so many people everywhere with different faces, skin colours, accents, attitudes, clothing, and personalities. There's something I find really endearing about London and I'd definitely love to come back and really get to know it properly. Seems like my kind of place.

In other news - I must have left my brains at home because since I left i've been doing all sorts of stupid things. I booked a return ticket to Heathrow Airport only to realise later that I'm not flying out of there, hence I didn't need to get a return. *waste of money #1

I also went to the Airport this morning - all excited and ready to go to New York, and when I went to check my booking, I noticed the date said the 17/6 and obviously today is the 16/6 - so I had a lovely morning trip with all my baggage for nothing, not to mention the train ticket I bought. *waste of money #2

and lets not forget that I booked accommodation in New York for the 16th - *waste of money #3

I think that's a job well done, don't you?

Barcelona: When your bag seems smaller and the soles of your shoes thinner...

Travelling can be tough sometimes. The hardest times are when you meet someone who you can share your mind with, someone who won't just ask you where you are from, someone who may not even ask your name until 2 hours into a conversation and then they leave just as soon as they have come. Those are the days that I feel the most lost. Just when I feel that I have found my feet and the city is mine to do with what I will, I fall over only to find that I have no idea where I am.

A few of those moments combined made me realise that traveling isn't really about seeing cities or monuments or churches or streets, its about meeting people and finding parts of yourself in them and in the places that you may visit. At first I couldn't work out why going to see the big tourist things wasn't making me happy or giving me any satisfaction. I can stare at a castle that was built thousands of years ago until my eyes dry up but it is never going to understand me or want to know why I came all these miles across the sea to explore people.

Cities are just cities. You can make of them what you will but the biggest of them all are just churning money in and out. The charm has been lost in cities like Barcelona where people mostly go to drink and take as many drugs as they can find from the Pakistani men selling out on La Rambla. Tourists bleed all the sweetness from the culture with their English and lack of understanding for anything of meaning. You could come here for 6 months and not have to speak a word of Spanish or Catalan. Maybe I don't understand the city but I think the problem is that this city doesn't understand me.

I have no real reason to be here. I'm not learning anything of culture and the struggle to meet like minded people here is sometimes too much. Made harder by missing the people that do make a difference. Travelling is brilliant when you are doing things you would never do at home, when you are seeing things you would never see at home, even when you get to be a person you would never be at home.

What travelling teaches you most is that your friends, the good ones, are very special people indeed. Special to your life and special each in their own way. Those friends that really listen, the ones that will let you put your heart on the table and watch it pulse without squirming. There aren't many people like that around.

At least I always have my guitar.

The Horse Farm - Tobarra

I couldn't post this because I didn't have wi-fi at the time - so it's really a post from about a week ago. enjoy! xx

I’ve been in Tobarra for a week and a half now – and what a whirlwind it has been. I arrived thinking that this horse-riding ranch would have a lot of life in it and there would be a few people working there. All I really knew was that I got to do some work with horses and some gardening, and that I would be living in an apartment in the local town which was about 1.5km from the farm.

When I arrived, there was a Swedish girl Martina and an Italian guy Simone who were living in the apartment, and on the first night, I met Juan who is a family friend of the farm owners who has taken to coming to the apartment to cook for the wwoofers. This was and is one of the best parts about being here. I have eaten several meals of traditional Spanish food cooked by Juan and in the time I have been here, learned more Spanish than I thought possible. It was great the, because both Martine and Simone both spoke Spanish, so they could translate for me. Juan speaks no English whatsoever.

The first day was really great. I was so excited to see all the animals, especially the horses. There are 40+ horses, chickens, roosters, 2 geese that we have named Harold and Bert, 1 Goat called Carmen, 4 dogs – 2 of which are half wolf and of course the people who run the farm. They are an English couple by the name of Sue and Richard.

After a couple of days, I started to notice that there was something that just wasn’t sitting right about the way things were run – and that I was pretty much going to be cleaning horse shit every day that I was working for at least 2 or so hours. This was not what I had in mind at all! Everyday we spent an indeterminate period of time searching for Sue or Richard to tell us what to do next. There were many an instance where they would say one thing and then do another, or just promise things that never came true. We found out from Juan that no-one had been in their house in 6 years, although he had invited them to his home several times, he had never received an invitation back. Before I found this out and on my first day, after milking Carmen, I knocked on the door of the house and after no answer, went inside to put the milk on the kitchen bench. They never saw me, or said anything, but I got the distinct feeling that, that day I had gotten away with a one time steal into the house.

Simone left after a couple of days and it was just me and Martina. We got along like a house on fire, and to be honest, the fact that we had each other was the only thing keeping us sane. We would work as fast as possible to get out of there and go home to eat lunch, drink a beer, and sun ourselves on the terrace. We even went out on the town on Saturday night to see what it was all about. The answer was, not much! No-one in Spain really goes out until 1-2am so there wasn’t a lot happening, and even then, had we waited til that hour, I don’t think much would have changed. Then it was time for Martina to go back to Sweden, a really sad moment, considering I wasn’t really too pleased with being at the farm, let alone without her company. There was supposed to be another wwoofer coming that day, so I thought I would at least wait it out and see what she was like while still deciding how to tell Sue and Richard that I wouldn’t be staying a month and that I would be leaving.

I worked two days on my own, cleaning out 15 cages of shit, which is usually done by two people. Sue left me on my own to do this, said she was coming back and never did. Once I finished, she drove me back to the apartment, and not once did she mention having left me to do all the work on my own. These people are crazy and not to mention rude. After living here for 6 years, they speak horrible Spanish. Worse Spanish than what I have learned in the last week, and they consistently complain about the Spanish, saying that they are selfish people and the like. I don’t understand what they are doing here if they hate it so much, but I hope they get their own and I don’t come across more people like them.

After doing the same thing the next day, I had had more than enough. By this stage I had worked 8 days straight, when I was supposed to work 5 out of 7 days a week and I was up to my ears in shit – almost literally. I told her that afternoon that I wouldn’t be staying a month and it wasn’t working out for me. So I have had a couple of days off, and go back to work tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave them high and dry, it’s not really right. Even though they are weird and I shouldn’t really care. I’ll be here until the next wwoofer gets here and has a couple of days working and on the 8^th of April, I’ll be out of here.

What I haven’t mentioned is that at present it is Easter in Spain – and everyone goes crazy around this time. In the town that I am living in, they are enjoying a 104 hour festival of NON STOP DRUMMING! You have never heard anything so insane in your life. If you go outside and stand in one stop and listen, you can hear people playing contradicting drum beats whilst walking right past each other. It goes on, all day and all night. No stopping. Lots of drinking. LOTS AND LOTS of drinking! And although it is hard to get to sleep at night, I think I might be going mad, and I don’t quite understand the significance, it’s a new experience. But I mean really…what happened to Easter Eggs? If you are reading this, you need to send me a Cadbury Cream Egg…that would make me most happy. I know I don’t have an address, but that can be arranged…

So I have 5 days left here and now that I can see there is an end in sight, I’m going to try and make the most of my time and enjoy the horses and the animals.

Spain - Sevilla and Granada

I’d spent two extra days in Morocco, mostly because I couldn’t get a flight out and you could say that I was more than ready to get out of there and onto Spain. Although it is one of the not so prosperous EU countries, Spain was still going to be fairly different from the Middle East. Well sort of.

I was leaving Marrakech for Sevilla rather early in the morning, and sadly enough I had to say goodbye to the kitten that was sleeping in a basket under my bed. Hold on, let’s backtrack for a second.

The night before I was due to leave Marrakech, I was heading out to get some food with a group of Germans from the Hostel, when whilst walking through the closed markets, we saw a tiny kitten. Now, in most of the Middle East, Morocco especially included there are a lot of stray animals, mostly cats. Anyway, being a girl, I am a sucker for small animals, and I picked her up at which point she climbed up my jumper to my shoulder and refused to get off. I realised then that her eyes weren’t even open yet, she must have been born in the last day or two. Not having the heart to leave her in the freezing cold, I carried her around for the rest of the night in my jumper, and we eventually managed to get her some milk, which we fed to her in a water bottle cap. According to the Germans, they had been in a shop just around the corner from where we found her earlier that day, and had seen a cat that had kittens. We decided that the next morning they would cunningly try and put her back with her mother. So, we snuck her into our hostel and she slept in a basket on a combination of my scarves under my bed. Like a worried mother, I woke up several times in the night to check that she was okay, which she of course was. I attempted to come up with several plans to smuggle her into the airport and take her to Spain with me, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I left her in the care of the Germans and took off to catch my plane.

At the airport in the line for customs, I met some Americans (I really love that I can just rudely classify people into groups of their nationality) who I spent my time waiting with. Turns out they were also going to Sevilla and one of them spoke fluent Spanish. This was rather helpful in general being that Spain would be the first country that I was visiting where I couldn’t speak any of the language. Once we arrived, we met a Canadian/New Zealand couple, who happened to be going to the hostel I was staying at - funny how even when you’re travelling the world can be so small – so we went on together. It was absolutely freezing in Sevilla. Apparently about 10c lower than what it should have been for that time of year. Not great! But the city? Stunning.

It was the first time travelling so far that I arrived in a city and really thought it was beautiful, craning my neck to get a better look at the architecture, which was centuries old. In comparison to Australia where we only have natural sights that are that old, it was really something new for me. Unfortunately for me, I got really sick while I was there and aside from walking around the city, I didn’t get to go into the Cathedral – but looks like I will be doing that later on. We were walking along the river one day and saw that there were dozens of padlocks on the bridge with couple’s names written or engraved on them. I have no idea of the significance but hopefully I get to find out at some point – but it was a very interesting sight.

After 5 or so days, it was time to leave the home of Flamenco (which I also didn’t get to see) and head to Granada, the place that I had been told by many people to go and see. It took me about 5½ hours to get there by bus and then a lovely hike around the city, getting absolutely lost trying to find my hostel. I’d been recommended to stay at the Rambutan hostel – which was apparently hard to find but worth it. I can now attest to the degree of difficulty in finding the place and I would suggest that if you have 30kg of baggage then, perhaps get better directions than I did. However, when I did arrive, it was indeed worth it. It is in the upper older parts of Granada with a beautiful view of the Alhambra and the city. There is the stunning St Nicholas lookout which at most times of the day is filled with artisans selling their wares or just full of people in general playing music or hanging out.

After a couple of days I caught up with the Americans that I had met at the airport. Turns out they were doing Granada over the weekend. So I tagged along with them and some friends of theirs and we went to a Spanish Short Film Festival, which was really great. The first film had subtitles, but for the rest of the time, I barely understood a thing, but thoroughly enjoyed myself. It was nice to be out with a big group walking around the city. A very different feeling from walking around on your own, wondering if you would look like a loser going to eat Tapas on your own. It was mostly nice to feel like I was a part of the goings on of a city, not just as a tourist, but feeling like an insider.

Granada was a slow place for me, in the best way. I didn’t make myself do a lot and spent a lot of time hanging out with various people from the hostel, including a new group of Germans who were a band on holidays together. We shared some songs and beers etc, and they invited me to come to Berlin to stay with them, and said that they would book a gig for me as long as they had enough notice before I came. Extremely exciting stuff. There are a lot of places that I want to see in Europe, but when you meet people from a country and they invite you, you really know it will be different than trying to make your way around as a tourist. I’d also just noticed that one of my favourite Australian artists Sia was doing a tour of Europe and playing in Berlin. So the two things coincide and looks like in May, I will be in Germany!

After 9 days in Granada, it was time to head to the small town of Tobarra, 7 hours north of Granada, in which I would be living in for approximately a month whilst working on a Horse-Riding ranch as part of the WWOOF program.

Marrakech and Essaouira

Apart from the first couple of days that were a bit stressful, the rest of my time in Marrakech was great. The stallholders do get on your nerves, but it you try to get on with it as much as you can it helps.

I visited the Tannery with some friends I'd met at the hostel, and it was well worth the half an hour it took us just to find it. It smelt absolutely horrible!! They don't use any chemicals on the leather, instead they use pigeon faeces to clean the hides and then they treat them later on. There wasn't a lot of colour as I was expecting, they hadn't dyed anything yet, but we still got to see the whole process plus a few interesting characters along the way. In the end, I bought a bag made from camel leather - which I later sent home because I couldn't have more than 2 bags on my Ryanair flight.

The Old Madersa (School) was fascinating and I spent much of the time there taking photos and marvelling at the architecture. Compared to some of the other things I have seen it was rather small, but was well made up for in other ways!

The Museum was also really beautiful and mostly so because of it's architecture like the Madersa, and had a photo exhibition that must have been really old, but was well worth a view.

I met a really lovely couple at my hostel who were hiring a car and taking a road trip to a beachside town called Essaouira. We drove for about 3 hours to get there, and what a beautiful town to see! Compared to the bustle of Marrakech, this fishing town was so much more peaceful. We ate fresh fish for lunch for not very much money. They sell it all by the kilo. I bargained hard for a big warm white jumper and managed to get it for 10EUR, rock bottom price, gotta be happy with that! Eventually we headed back to Marrakech, only to be stopped by the police for "speeding" but they had no way to prove it and were basically trying to extort us for money. After them threatening to send one of us to Jail for speeding we gave them the equivalent of 20EUR which was half of what they wanted, said we had no more and eventually, they let us go... Phew! Close call! On we continued until we reached Marrakech and whilst making a turn - apparently the wrong way, when there were no signs saying so, another police officer stopped us and attempted once again to extort money out of us, at which point we told him that we'd already been stiffed of all the money we had! So, once again, by the skin of our noses, we got away with it and somehow felt glad to be back in crazy Marrakech.

Before Morocco, I was so excited about the food and how good it was going to be. Turned out that most places I ate were really very average, nothing special to speak of, except for the last place that was recommended to me. I ate there the day before I left and was so glad I did, because otherwise my idea of the food in Morocco would have been that it was terrible, which is not true at all.

The restaurant is called Terrace Des Epices and is nestled right in the middle of the markets in Marrakech. It will take you on a few twists and turns to get there, but walking up the stairs you are met with an open terrace with modern Moroccan furniture and friendly staff. The price for a Tagine is almost double what you would pay for your entire dinner at the market night stalls, but it is worth every dollar, coming in at around 11EUR. I had a Lamb Tagine with currents. The meat was falling of the bone, the currents were juicy and it was perfectly spiced. I can now understand why people go on and on about Moroccan food. If you were eating like this everyday, I think you're entire experience of the country would be very different.

So the next morning I said goodbye to Morocco and Marrakech and made my way to Sevilla in Spain.

J-Town

Jerusalem has a really crazy energy about it. Really, how is it possible for it not to? As one of the holiest cities in the world, it is rather full of tourists and for me that wasn't so holy. At times it might as well have been America for all I knew. You could literally walk down the street and hear nothing but their accents for ages. That being said, so many different people from Christian, Muslim and Jewish faith from countries all over the world make pilgrimage there. There are some amazing architectural structures, and in the cobbled streets of the Old City there is still an old Souk which has shopkeepers trying to convince people to come in and buy something.

Once we had arrived there, we dumped our things at a friends work and made our way down to the Old City. Doing the traditional Jewish thing, we ate bagels and then, doing the traditional 'jess eats lots of food thing' we followed that with a burger, without cheese...did I mention there was no cheese? Who eats burgers without cheese? Moving on...

We spent a while looking around and finally we get to an open outdoor area and a few hundred metres away from us is the Western Wall. It is sometimes referred to as the Wailing Wall or the Kotel and in Judaism, the Western Wall is venerated as the sole remnant of the Holy Temple. It has become a place of pilgrimage for Jews, as it is the closest permitted accessible site to the holiest spot in Judaism, namely the Even ha-shetiya or Foundation Stone, which lies on the Temple Mount. At the site of the wall, we found it was separated into two sections, one for the men, and one for the women. (the women's section was smaller of course, about a 1/4 of the size of the mens.) In the stone of the wall there are tiny crevices which are filled with tiny balls of paper that carry written prayers. You can't even begin to imagine how many of these there are. The wall is magnificently huge and nearly every space has been filled with these prayers.

Fun Fact: The Israeli Telephone Company has established a fax service to the Western Wall where petitioners can send notes to be placed in the Wall. Hilarious!

So after all that excitement we went out for a beer down near Jaffa St - which is one of the main ones that runs through the city. Really it was quite cheap - something like 10NIS for a beer which is about half the usual price. Plus free popcorn. More bars should do free popcorn. I got my nose re-pierced, as I'd lost my nose ring in the Bedouin Tents earlier in our trip. By lost I mean, I think the women saw the shiny pretty thing and took it...nothing against Bedouins at all. What you have to know is that they don't have much - so for them, anything that I had in my bags was really something special. They even wanted some of my panty liners. Go figure!

I did start to get sick after a couple of days and so didn't really feel much like going out to see things. We did however go to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre just before I left for Tel Aviv. It's a rather ominous place, and we managed to arrive just as there was a service/prayer. It was an interesting thing to be a part of and the singing always sounds so beautiful in such big churches with great acoustics. There was also some amazing carvings in the wall of crosses - there were hundreds of them - which can be seen in one of the pictures above. There were lots of people in the church and you know what it's not really the kind of place that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy but it is amazing and the paintings and artwork in there are amazing. We really didn't stay long but it is the kind of place I'd like to go to again and look around properly.

In other news I ate some really sensational Ice Cream, Milk Duds and went to the Dead Sea, but that's a story for another time...

Marrakech - First Days

I arrived in Marrakech at about 11am after a 3 hour flight and barely any sleep for a day and a half. In a rather delirious state I then had to find my hostel which I knew would be difficult being that it was in the middle of the markets. I walked for about 40 minutes with men making comments and hissing under their breath before asking for directions and eventually made it with the help of some guy who was rather unimpressed that I didn’t give him any money for showing me where the hostel was. Truth be told, I didn’t have any small change on me but I don’t think he believed me. After getting the welcome talk from the hostel manager and a map to get around with, I went up to the rooftop terrace which I’d so be looking forward to seeing and sat down for a few minutes. The prayers started going off in every which direction and with my lack of sleep and being alone for the first time and back in a Muslim country, I was starting to go a bit mad. I did wonder what I was doing here and if I was nuts to have come on my own.

After a nap I felt a lot better and went off to the Jemaa El Fna Square to get some food. I ordered a Tagine of Chicken, preserved lemon and olives (in French) and finally had a moment to sit and watch what was going on around me. The square is really big and is full of things I wouldn’t have imagined. There are monkeys and snakes, women all over doing henna tattoos, street theatre (but mostly in Arabic for the locals), acrobats, food stands, men dressed up in old formal dress and more. This was only during the day. I later met some lovely girls at the hostel and at night we went back to the square, which had turned into a rows and rows of huge tents with tables and benches each one sectioned into different food stalls. They all pretty much serve the same thing except for the local stalls, which serve sheep’s head. I can’t say I’ve tried it, it looks absolutely disgusting and I don’t care how much credit I would get, I think I had enough trying sheep’s intestines in Syria.

The next day I spent attempting to find the Jewish Quarter (which never happened) and the Baha Palace (which was closed). I did however find the spice markets and that was quite intriguing. A little discerning considering I was on my own and there weren’t a lot of other tourists around, but I figured it was okay. I went into one guys spice shop where he proceeded to show me nearly everything in the shop. I bought some perfume – had a quick and somewhat wrong photo with him and attempted to get out of there as quickly as possible. I wouldn’t put myself in a situation like that again, it was most unpleasant and I’d warn other young women travelling, that no matter how nice someone seems, the men in Muslim countries have a warped sense of Western women and what rules are okay to bend. I got out of the situation just fine in the end, but even though I’m quite confident and usually have pretty good instincts, I ignored my first instinct, which said ‘do not go into the shop - stay outside’. I’ve learnt for next time.

So needless to say that turned my day around a little and I was feeling a bit vulnerable after that – not a good way to be in a Moroccan market. I wanted to get a Henna Tattoo and found some women doing them and was pulled over to a seat by one of the older women to another one who was doing the tattoos. I asked how much it was to begin with but she sort of ignored me and I was a bit fragile and couldn’t really be bothered pushing it, and at the end I had (and still have) what looks like a children’s drawing on both sides of my hand which they attempted to charge me 300MAD ($40AU). After arguing with them for a while I gave in and gave them 200MAD ($27) and figured that that day must not have been for me and I should give in.

Jordan Fail - Israel Win!

We had planned to go to see a few things in Jordan, including Petra and Wadi Rum. I was really excited to go driving a 4WD through the desert, but turns out it was not to be. Would you believe that in one of the hottest countries that I have been to, it was snowing! So in our attempt to get to Petra, we got 3/4 of the way and had to turn around and go back because the roads were blocked. That made our decision to go into Israel earlier rather easy - so that same day, we got a taxi to the border. We were expecting to get questioned for a long time or at least I was, considering the stamps that I had on my passport. It took about 3 hours worth of questions, searching bags, and waiting for us to get through (and with a great sigh of relief) we set of to Kiryat Tivon to stay at Zevs Uncles house.

Kiryat Tivon is a beautiful little town which I eventually had the pleasure of staying in twice. However with Phoebe, Zev and now Podge in tow, we all stayed in one room at Davids house which was really lovely. We cooked food and drank wine and spent a little time winding down from Syria. We also went to Nazareth and to Akko which is a seaside town. We went to Haifa as well and saw the Bahai gardens (I nearly died climbing to the top) but it was absolutely stunning and actually reminded me a lot of Lebanon being that it is a port city.

Once we left Tivon we went and stayed with some other relatives of Zevs for a night at a Kibbutz called Beit Ha`Emeq. They grow Bananas and Avocados. We were shown around the place the morning after we got there and we were allowed to pick Avocados that had fallen off the trees. I'm pretty sure we ended up with about 8 or so that we took with us.

Then off we went to another Kibbutz to see a friend of Zevs and stayed there for a night as well. We ate home made Shakshouka at Tehilas and then went out for a beer. We also went to see a friend of Zevs in the area the next day in the Arab village that was right next to the Kibbutz. It was such a wonderful experience. He took us to his mothers house for coffee and we sat talking for a quite a while. His Mum also gave Phoebe and I scarves each that she had brought back from Mecca. He does some really fantastic work with kids in this village and he showed us around the new building for the youth programs that he runs which was just so impressive for a town like theirs where people assume that they all do nothing but cause trouble. Definitely a highlight.

Somewhere in there we did the Rosh HaNikra Grottoes which border Lebanon. We watched a fantastically terrible information film about the history of the area and the train line that used to run right through into Lebanon but was blown up by the British for fear of an attack years ago.

We then headed to Tiberias where we got a hostel for a couple of nights. Tiberias is a city on the western shore of the Sea of Galilee, Israel. Since the sixteenth century, it has been considered one of Judaism's Four Holy Cities with Jerusalem, Hebron, and Safed. According to Christian tradition, Jesus performed several miracles in the Tiberias district, making it an important pilgrimage site for devout Christians. Tiberias has historically been known for its hot springs, believed to cure skin and other ailments, for thousands of years. We went to these hot springs and although they didn't really cure me of anything besides maybe sore shoulders, they were really beautiful and a nice way to chill out after running ourselves ragged.

Finally we arrived in Jerusalem.

Attempting Jordan

By the time we were on our way to Jordan, I was really looking forward to getting out of Syria - that being said, Jordan probably wasn't going to be different enough to make me feel better. So we went to get a bus to Amman from Damascus.

Note: If anyone says that there isn't a bus, or they have all finished for the day, or they don't go to where you want them to go and you have to take a taxi...it's a lie. It's always a lie. Basically you can assume that what most people tell you, the truth is the opposite.

So we get to the border of Jordan and Syria and as i'm trying to get my papers done, I get asked why there isn't a stamp on my passport? Well, I'd entered Syria on my Lebanese ID card which meant that I didn't have to pay and it was less hassle (or so I thought) but it also means that I didn't get a stamp on my passport and I couldn't exit into any other country, only in and out of Lebanon and Syria. So they said that they would call the boss and see if he would let them stamp me through anyway - but in true Middle Eastern fashion he was having a nap (at 5.30pm) and so I would have to wait until he woke up to hear the answer. So Phoebe and Zev went on without me and I sat at the border not knowing what was going to happen, completely on my own, in the country that I was trying to get out of as fast as I could.

After waiting for an hour and paying 10SYP to use the toilet, the boss said that he couldn't let me in and I had to go back to the border of Lebanon and Syria, get stamped out and then back in in order to get across to Amman. This sounded rather a ridiculous feat. It was already 6.45pm and I had no idea what to do. I thought about going back to see my Mum and flying into Jordan, but I figured that would cost too much and waste a lot of time. So for $110US I got a taxi whose driver said he would take me to the border of Lebanon and then back into Jordan to Amman. Pretty good deal I think although it wasn't the easiest of trips.

I was waiting in the taxi for about half an hour while the taxi driver was on the phone and then when I thought we'd set off, he stopped again to unload about 50kg of Tobacco that I imagine he was trying to get across the border or something. The whole thing was super dodgy and all the while I was sat there wishing we were on our way so I could just get to Jordan.

In the end, it took 7 hours, two taxi drivers, several marriage proposals and a cup of coffee for me to get to Amman at about 1.30am. I've never been so happy to make it somewhere in one piece.

Crusader Castles, Roman Ruins, a Ghost Town and Damascus

Crac de Chevalier was our next stop and is an ancient castlebuilt by the emir of Homs in 1031, but it was the Crusader knights who, around the middle of the 12th century, largely built and expanded Crac into its existing form.

Castle Review: they are old, have lots of stone, people used to fight in them, and now they don't.

We then made our way South to go to hot springs and stay out with the Bedouins for a night. If you've never been to a hot spring, then you won't be able to imagine the overwhelming egg smell from the sulphur - eventually you get used to it and it's well worth it! We were out in the middle of nowhere, and the Bedouin man of the family turned the springs on for us and we drank and were merry in sulphurous water for a few hours. For a Bedouin tent, they must have been doing okay seeing as they had a television and a huge dish for cable right outside the tent - really quite hilarious!! We spent the rest of the night sitting with the Bedouin family, whose roles we were never entirely sure of. There was the Man, his mother, and two other women, and a little girl and boy. I attempted to play guitar, only after breaking a string, and the Bedouin man pulled out his homemade 'tin with one string' instrument' and what an interesting night we had.

After that we went on to Palmyra which has Roman ruins, dating largely to the 2nd century AD, cover some 50 hectares and have been extensively excavated and restored. It's really something to behold, and it just goes on and on and because they have excavated so much of it, you can really see the spread of the city and begin to imagine what it would have looked like.

The town itself however is really very strange. Being that we were in a tourist supported area in the middle of winter, it was like a ghost town. Competition is fierce and everyone tells lies and stories about restaurants, hotels and anything else they can. Basically the idea is, that if you ask someone where a good restaurant to eat at is, and they suggest you definitely don't go to xxx then, go there!! It's the kind of place that you come to see the ruins, realise how creepy everyone is, and want to get out of there as soon as possible.

Next we had Damascus, which I barely saw any of. We ran around when we got there trying desperately to find some accommodation, but most of the good hostels were full. We eventually found the most seedy and feral place I have stayed in so far, and made home there for a few days. I went out on the first night for a tea with a german guy that we'd met and looked for accommodation with, and managed to get really sick, so for the rest of Syria I pretty much stayed in the hostel in bed and tried to get better. In reality, by this stage, I was rather over Syria and wanted to get out. I think I'd had enough altogether - so after a couple of days, we were heading to Jordan.

We all live in Aleppo Syria...

Aleppo now seems like a distant dream. When you take too long updating your blog, reminiscing over anything seems like retelling stories from years past. However, my memory seems to serve me well and as my first proper destination, Aleppo did not disappoint me.

We arrived in Aleppo at about 8pm after a long day of bus's, borders and visa's. By this time it was already dark and we were hungry and hopeful that it wouldn't take too long to find our hostel. However, walking through the streets for 15 minutes, we managed to find our way to the Clock which sits in the main square of Aleppo. We were taken in by the spice stands and men shouting to us "welcome welcome" and soon, our packs didn't seem so heavy and I started

squealing with excitement. That first half an hour was true to the rest of our stay in Aleppo. It was intriguing, exciting and also held many many secrets. We finally managed to find our hostel, which I'd booked with my Mum via a very dodgy Skype line through a young boy who wasn't extremely clear, for all I knew we were going to be staying on a rooftop. But we were lucky and we made it to our room and dumped all of our things before going for a beer with the hostel owner and a lovely older English couple at the Baron Hotel. The Baron Hotel is the oldest hotel in Syria and has had some rather notable guests stay there in its time, including Lawrence of Arabia and Agatha Christie. Now it just looks like a rather old Hotel that hasn't been looked after for some years, but the beer was good and we managed to wind down from our long day.

Aleppo is a very loud city. Every morning that I woke up there it was to strange sounds of men shouting, roller doors opening and closing, and Phoebe even said that one morning she woke up to the sound of a man screaming like someone was pulling his teeth out. It was also bitterly cold. Being that I was in Lebanon for 6 weeks in "Winter" where the weather was an average of 18-24 degrees, it was a rude shock to get to Aleppo where the puddles on the street froze overnight from the cold. It was the kind of weather where you wear all your thermals, your jacket, scarf, beanie and anything else you have, but it's still deathly cold. That didn't stop us from getting around and exploring the city, and what a city to explore.

The Old City

If you want a recommendation of somewhere you should definitely visit, then the old city of Aleppo is most definitely one of them. I'd seen a few souq's (markets) before but nothing really compares to the Souq in the Old City. Long alleys running in every which direction covered by ancient stone archways where the men who own the stalls will try almost anything to get you to stop. In order to get the best out of any experience in a souq, you need to be up on your bargaining game and learn the 'walk away'. The 'walk away' is something Zev taught me about bargaining. Basically the idea is, that they suggest a price to you, and you can try and work them down, but if it's not working, then you say "okay, no worries, thanks very much" and turn to walk away. This is usually a part of the bargaining dance and if they are interested in your business this is the point at which they will start yelling lower and lower prices out after you. We had an interesting experience with a rather aggressive stall owner. Zev was bargaining for scarves and did the walk away and the man was coming after us yelling out prices, but all the time getting more and more frustrated until he got quite angry and we had to push our way as quickly as we could through droves of people just to get away from him. We also met a rather interesting guy at another scarf stall who had a lot of 'australianisms' to share with us, being that he had some family living there. I bought some beautiful things at the souq and could have bought much more had I had the means or the luggage space.

Originally we only intended to stay in Aleppo for 2 days. All in all, I think we ended up being there for 5 - which says something about the city and it's charms. We went to the beautiful Citadel and attempted visiting the soap factory about 7 times with no luck (Aleppo is very famous for it's Soap) but we did get to see the old Mental Asylum.

Aleppo is most definitely somewhere that I would like to visit again. One visit to that souq really isn't enough. There is another side to Aleppo, and Syria in general. For a western woman, it can be rather an exhausting experience. You are stared at absolutely everywhere you go. Men have no hesitation in making comments about your appearance or making their interest in you known, and you can't really trust anyone. Everyone is out for a dollar, and the Syrian Government has done a really good job of getting everyone under their thumb. There are lots of things that can go wrong, and money is the only way to get you out.

Speaking of being out for a dollar, here is a perfect example...

I wanted to buy an Oud, which is a Middle Eastern string instrument that is cross between a guitar and a violin. One night an older Syrian man who was a singer came down to the hotel to visit the owner, and ended up singing for us and I had a good chat with him. He seemed really genuine and when I mentioned wanting to buy an Oud he said he knew someone who made them and could take me to see a few the next day. So the hotel owner said he would take me there. We catch a cab to some really seedy part of Aleppo where I notice there's a dumpster on fire and dodgy looking people everywhere, and we wait for this guy to come. We find what we think is the Oud shop, but the guy doesn't come on time, we all get confused about where we are meeting, we spend a long time running around in circles, and eventually end up right back where we started off at the first shop. The mood was pretty sombre, and to be honest, I was so excited about buying an Oud and these people were very stern and straight down the line. They quoted me SL9,000 which went up to SL14,000 about 5 minutes later, and although I understand Arabic and it's harder for them to get things past me, I also have trouble understanding their dialect. I could feel that something dodgy was going on, and I asked my hotel owner what he thought. He discretely said to say no thanks, and I had to explain that I wanted to think about it and we would talk the next day. Turns out, the singer was trying to get a commission off me buying that Oud, and what I hadn't noticed was that they were writing prices down on a piece of paper which my friend had noticed.

In the end, I went down to a music shop right near the hotel where I met a really lovely man who had an honest face, gave me some really good advice, and even gave me a couple of free lessons and a discount. There are still good people in the world.

Long Time

So I know it's been a long time since I've blogged, and a lot has happened since the last once, but keep checking I'll post new stories and adventures this week, now that I have proper internet. Much Love xx

The Cedars

Took a trip to the Cedars with Phoebe and Zev and our lovely driver Fouad who can barely speak a word of english, used to be in the army and was once known as "Father of the Skulls".

It was really shitty weather, pretty much rained the whole time that we were out, but it made for a cosy ride in the 4WD and besides, anyone with a name such as our drivers had to be of interest. He's a rather hyperactive man, almost like a 5 year old, but that was really good for us because it meant that he had a lot of energy to be taking out into castles and up and around lots of different small sites around and on the way to the Cedars.

We started the day off at Mussaylha Fort which was built around the 17th Century. Being that it is Winter in Lebanon and most tourist sites are closed, we got the keys to this one and went in on our own. It wasn't as big inside as it looked from the outside, but there were underground bunkers and stunning views from the top. After that, we went and ate a traditional Lebanese breakfast of Kneffe be Jeben which is made from cheese and served in Kaek which is really firm thin bread covered in sesame seeds and then topped with sugar syrup. If you ever get the chance, get your hands on some. You can find it in Australia at Balhas Bakery on Sydney Road in Coburg.

So, being that I'm in the Middle East, I've wanted to get some photos with soliders and or a gun since I got here, but it isn't really the done thing. We asked dear Father if he knew any way that we could get photos and turns out he knew someone in a small village that was on our way. We got there and managed some awkward minutes sitting with these soldiers in a room around a heater. By this stage, we're getting up into the mountains and it's getting pretty cold. He asked them if we could take some photos and they obliged. I have never laughed so much at the ridiculousness of watching my two friends holding an AK-47 for photos and then having to hold one myself and look like I knew what I was doing with it. We got a few photos here and there within the place and with some of the soldiers too and I don't think we could have been happier with the outcome. The slogan for the day and the rest of our trip here has become "Only in Lebanon".

Eventually we got up to the Cedars of Bcharre and it was very cold and wet and most of the kiosks were closed. It was so closed that a store keeper urged us to climb the fence to go in to the park to see the Cedars. They are beautiful tall and some very old (200 years) trees. We didn't last very long in the rain, and we were hungry so we got on down the mountain again to get some food.

I've had an interesting time with going out to eat here. Not much luck in the first few weeks - ate some terrible food, but since then my luck has changed. We went out for Mezze in a town called Batroun and then called it a day. All round success I think.

Piece of Cake for a Riot?

Went out to Beirut today with mum - went shopping and out for lunch was really very nice and at times it was reminiscent of Melbourne, that is except for all the Lebanese people everywhere! ha

So we went down to this cake shop to pick up a cake we'd set aside earlier in the day (being that I love cake and all) and we're waiting for a taxi outside the cake shop in Achrafieh in Beirut and seems I didn't notice that a crowd of men was gathering. By the time I noticed, all hell had broken loose. I'm not sure exactly what the story was and I've heard a few that don't make much sense, but all I could see was about 30 men crowded around an expensive silver mercedes with a female driver and not letting her pass. That didn't go so well, and she tried to drive out through them, at which point they started beating her car and running after her. Meanwhile a little to the left a fight breaks out amongst a group of some of the men and there are police sirens, but not police cars, there are soldiers standing around but they are heavily out numbered by the men causing trouble, therefore they are doing nothing to help the situation but staring at the sky thinking about god knows what. Who knows what happened after that and whether it got worse or better. Thankfully for Mum and I our taxi came and we got out of the mess as quickly as possible.

It was an interesting situation to be in. Really rather scary because you have no idea what is going on, and also because there were so many people involved, and unlike in Australia it had nothing to do with late night drinking. It was at 6pm in the evening in a crowded area right near a shopping mall that was filled with families and children. Just goes to show how quickly things can turn and the differences in culture...to see who would band together with who. The woman in the car got out at one point which was a stupid thing to do, considering she was surrounded by men who were attacking her anyway - but she managed to get back in and try and drive off...(which could have been comical from an outsiders point of view, because the traffic in Lebanon is so bad, that you can only really "drive off" for 5 meters...) had she not gotten through that traffic, this may have been a different story entirely.

I'm just glad my cake got out okay.