Pyramids & Fatimids


Cairo :: Egypt

Day 243 and it all started to sink in.

Places: Edfu, Aswan, Abu Simbel, Kom Ombo & Cairo.

Coolest thing I did: Spent 2 days with 3 very good friends on a felucca on the Nile.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Coptic cathederals sometimes have an anamatronic Mary out the front.

The banknotes in Egypt all have two sides (der), one showing things from the Ancient Egypt people think about (sphinxes and whatnot) and the other side showing the current, more Muslim present. It amazed me that it's so possible to forget that you are actually in a Muslim country here. We managed to change that by going to Edfu. The temple at Edfu was built by the hiers to Alexander the Great's empire in the Pharonic style so it's the last and most intact of all the temples we've seen. We spent the afternoon checking this out, but found ourselves stranded in this small town due to the fact you can't just get on a bus aanywhere south of Luxor. Due to the Luxor massacre of tourists in 1997, all tourists have to travel in a twice daily convoy so we had to wait for the next morning. This meant staying in one of the scummist hotels on my whole trip (thought the breakfast was outstanding) and trying to amuse ourselves. We walked through the chaotic souq and were helped to purchase bananas by a bloke who ended up inviting us back for diner at his nearby house. We broke the daily Ramadan fast on his bedroom floor with his wife and young son (3 years old), who was pretty happy with the new attention. He then took us out to old man coffeehouse to play dominos and smoke shisha pipes. We found out women like Yvette look pretty out of place there, shisha that the Arabs smoke is way stronger than the stuff they give the tourists and some of these blokes play way too much dominoes.

On the way home they took us to see the local Coptic church and it was something else. Chandeliers inside and on the outside an anamatronic statue of Mary, complete with angels who flap their wings. Pretty cool stuff.

The next day was supposed to be watching the Rugby day (and all you Poms can keep your bloody opinions to yourselves) but instead we spent it at a military checkpoint waiting for the convoy. Rather confusingly, one of the soldiers made a bouquete of flowers which he gave to Tim, rather than Yvette. We think Tim has that special something that attracts Arab men. The elevator guy in the hotel in Luxor also called him beautiful on more than one occasion.

We found Aswan to be a nice place, but the hassle factor is a bit higher than Luxor. This is the place to get on a felucca and the felucca-pimps (the guy whose English is the best tends to outsource the actual sailing to his brothers/cousins/nephews) are always trying to get you into a boat everytime you walk past. We managed to get a day trip which the guy got a bit too pushy with the wanting a tip at the end and got very upset when we tipped the guy that drove the boat and not him. Something to watch for.

Thanks to Lee's arrival from Cairo we moved from the budget digs across town to the New Cataract Hotel. It's the more modern annex to the Old Cataract, where Agatha Christie wrote a couple of novels. On Tim's birthday night, when we were putting away cocktails in the Old Cataract bar the bartender got us up to see the suite where she stayed. For $US600 a night you can have a Nile view from either her writing table or the bathroom where she did her business (which is the size of most appartments I've ever lived in). The treat of this luxury was a good end to my staying in hotels for this trip. Lee get's residents rates so we could split the cost of the 2 rooms between 4. Knowing these expat teachers has it's perks.

We did a very early convoy (4am) to Abu Simbel to see THE temple in Egypt. This is worth the effort just to see the four (well 3 and a half now) seated Ramses II colossi guarding the front. When the Nile was damed in the 60s the whole thing was cut into big pieces and relocated to higher ground. You wouldn't have a clue from looking at it. Amazing stuff.

The next day we left our new comfortable digs and got on a felucca for 2 days. This is a smallish, canvas sailed boat and despite that description, we found it the perfect size for us and the three crew. They couldn't remember our names so the gave us Nubian names, of which they could then only remember Tim's. I can't remember what the called me. Anyway, it was 2 days of cards, reading, watching the nile go by, drinking beer, drinking vodka, smoking shisha and singing very badly and knowing the words to not many songs. I think between us we never managed to sing a song all the way through. This amused the Egyptians no end.

After an overnight train ride we moved into Lee's very nice house in Cairo's expat friendly Ma'adi district. We're seeing what expats do with their time (drinking seems popular) as well as ticking some boxes on the tourist trail.

The Pyramids are big, pointy and old. There's nothing that hasn't already been written about them at some point in history that I could add.

The Sphinx, however, suffers from the Mona Lisa Syndrome. There was a whole lot of "is that it? I thought it would be bigger" going on.

It's become very real that I'm going home soon this week. I've just confirmed with (ironically enough) Romanian Air Transport my flight at stupid oclock tomorrow morning and there's now less than a week til I'm on the flight back to Australia. Good Lord.

Hot & wet


Luxor :: Egypt

First some water, then some desert with big rock things in it.

Places: Dahab, Hurgurda & Luxor.

Coolest thing I did: Regained my love of diving.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Too many things. I learned how to make a Karnak temple. It takes alot of time, slaves and mud bricks.

After the tense edge of Israel, Egypt was a nice change. Well, when I say Egypt, I mean Dahab. The only thing of note on my way in was it was so quiet at the land border with Israel that I had to wait 10 mins while they warmed up the xray machine to scan my bags. Oh, and the border guard had no idea where Aqaba was, even though we could see it from where we were standing.

Dahab was and wasn't what I expected. It was once a Bedouin village that a few people used to stay in and get stoned alot. But that was before anyone I've ever met went there. It's lost it's hippy edge and now is a beach front of identical cafes, cheap hotels and dive clubs. It is, however, not as bad as it sounds from that last sentence. People are friendly without being overbearing, you can spend an afternoon doing nothing if you want and no one cares if you eat or drink during Ramadan.

I think I've also been feeling alot less tense because of the presence of familiar faces. On the day I arrived in Dahab, Tim came down from Cairo to meet me. He'd been there the week before to get his dive license so he'd negotiated good prices for dives, hotels and the like in advance. Everyone at the hotel knew who I was and why I was there so it was nice. They were good to us, and it seemed not only because we gave them enough money to educate another 3 generations of their children. A couple of days later, I also managed to get a cab out to pick Yvette up from Sharm airport so there are now three of us wandering about Egypt. After months of hardly seeing anyone I know it;s good to have all these familar faces again.

The diving in the Red Sea is as good as anyone had led me to belive. I was in two minds about going diving again after a four year gap but it all came back to me very quickly. We did six dives over the days we were there and it was all as good as anything I did on the Barrier Reef. My favourite was a spot called the fishbowl, where you go into a cave and all these schools of little glass fish (clear ones you can see the skeleton of) swim around you, lit by shafts of blue light from the outside. If you dive (or have four days to learn) this is the place to come. I'm back loving it again and can't wait to get another chance to go.

The day before we left we decided to climb Mt Sinai at night and watch the sun rise over the desert. This is a good idea, except you don't start climbing until 11pm and it's bloody cold. We made it to the top before 3 so decided to have a sleep at the top and wait. We rented some matresses, lay down in our sleeping bags and shivered to sleep. We were awoken by the sounds of the several thousand (ok, I probably exadurate) Russians that had come up on tour busses behind us. They seem to have the same lack of personal space skills as they do at home so there were Russian women walking on us where we slept. The sunrise was spectacular, but the lack of sleep made the monastery where the burning bush less impressive. All three of us had a case of the angries and all those Russians didn't help when we got down there. It was a bit of a write off of a day.

We caught the ferry to Hurgurda on the other side of the Red Sea that afternoon. We manged to get ripped off by a taxi driver and wander around yelling "NO!" everyone who spoke to us while we looked for a place to stay. Thank god we all slept well and were in a better mood the next day.

We caught the bus to Luxor and that's been all good. Luxor is nothing short of amazing. Temples you can't see over, big tall statues of gods and lots of picture writing. This Ramses bloke was a bit of a raving ego maniac and seems to have decided to put 12 m tall statues of himself up everywhere, which make for good pictures.

We saw alot of tombs where the highlights are the carvings and paintings on the walls. And the odd stone coffin. We even saw into a burrial chamber where the remains of the Pharohs kids were still in there, one with his mummified guts hanging out. At bit gross, but I took a picture anywho.

I think Yvette was laughing at my Egyptian maths jokes (does anyone know their bird times tables? Bird times eye is bird, bird time hook is water) just to be polite. I thought I was being rather witty.

When you go to the west bank of the Nile here, the best temples are those in the Valley of the Nobles, where they burried scribes, high priets and other blokes with alot of cash. These tombs haven't had many tourists in them and as a result the colours on the walls are still intact without restoration. Tim told me this and I didn't belive him. You won't belive me either and you'll go around the Valley of the Kings with all the other tourists, just like I did. It's good to carry on a tradition.

The temple at Karnak is the big one. It's the most intact and the guide we got made it a whole lot better. I have to say I'm adverse to guides since Morocco and all those blokes who took me around without knowing anything more than I did, but the others convinced me in the end. This bloke knew lots of stuff and we learned a very small part of it for the princely sum of 5 pounds sterling. You can't get over the scale of some of these things. As a result I reckon given several thousand tonnes of stone, lots of mud bricks and close to a million migrant labourers I could build the exact same thing in Doonside. I'm considering it as a project for when I get back home.

The concept of "Back home" is now a bit too close and it scares me. What will I do when I don't have to pack all my stuff into a backpack every morning. I can't remember what that was like.

From here we are off to the South (which they confusinly refer to upper egypt) to see more old stuff. We're meeting Lee too, which is yet another familiar face to add to the group. Then it's back to London on the 3rd of December, via Bucharest. So I will get to visit Romania after all, even if it's only for the time it takes to change planes. All the Londoners brace yourselves for a imminent Steviling. Sydney gets its turn the week after.

Holy and that


Eliat :: Israel

Drinking, floating, crap places, new religions & lots of funny hats.

Places: Tel Aviv, Nazareth, Haifa & En Gedi.

Coolest thing I did: Floated in the Dead Sea. What a tourist.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Ultra Orthadox Jews (the ones with strange hats and ZZ top beards) don't have to serve in the army, despite the fact they are the key party pushing for forced military service. Hmmmm...

Tel Aviv was a breath of fresh, secular air after Jerusalem. Not only did I manage to get drunk, but I got on a surburban bus and no one blew it up. Hooray! There is a serious side to this. I just got back from a backpacker drinking joint called Mike's Place and was talking to receptionist at the hostel. She joked that the owner gave discounts to Hizbolah, and the reason for this was two blokes who walked into Mike's Place and blew themselves up stayed in that very hostel. That's a bit close to reality for me. The fact people were so blaise about the whole thing made me realise the violence has dulled people's reactions to things like death. There is also the story of a bloke who stayed in the hostel for 3 years, woke up one day with a headache, went to hospital and wound up dead. They refered to that as him checking into the big hostel in the sky. I also noticed that once people get out of the army in Tel Aviv they all become left wing pacifists and very non religious. It's all the return disporates that walk around with yamakes and learn Hebrew. The Israelis born here seem to just want a normal life.

So, I went to see the home place of Big JC, Nazareth. I don't recommend it. Not only is it a complete pain in the arse to get into and out of, but there is nothing there of any religious significance. The church of the Assumption (where Mary supposedly got the word she was up the duff with our saviour) was only rebuilt in 1970, so there's older churches in Sydney. A complete waste of time.

Haifa was something a bit different. There are Jewish, Arab and Christian communities living shoulder to shoulder without too many issues (only one bombing in the current uprising). There is also the Shrine of Bab. I had no idea who Bab was, so I asked. Bab was a Baha'i. I had no idea who the Baha'is were, so I asked. Baha was a bloke who was supposed to be the messiah who showed up in Persian (modern Iran) in the 1800s. He was the last prophet, and they recognise Mohammed and JC as prophets too. This didn't go over well with the Persian authorities and Baha got martyred. Bab was a later disciple who also got martyred. They moved his remains to Haifa and built a big shrine and some nice gardens. Besides this, Elijah's cave is the other big attraction. It's a nice idea, but it probably wasn't the cave Elijah hid in and today it kind of smells of urine. Still, one more holy thing to tick off.

I was quite pleased with meeting some liberal thinking young Israelis on Tel Aviv. I was starting to wonder if everyone my age in this country wanted to knock down the Dome of the Rock and build a Third Hebrew Temple in it's place. Yeah, that'd bring peace to the Middle East. Seriously though, there are enough people who are sick of bombings, compulsory military service and are not so one sided that they can't see that maybe the root of the Palesitinans complaints are not so unfounded. I learned alot about what people learn in school (that God gave them the promised land and it's ok for that reason to kick the Arabs out) and who says what in the whole thing. I was amazed to learn that the kids of the hard line, ultra orthadox jews don't have to do military service. So people who don't belive this is the right way to solve things fight for people who do that don't have to send their kids to fight. That really annoyed me. I also found out most Israelis have no idea why the hell anyone would want to come to Israel as a tourist. That explains why everyone in Jerusalem looked at me like I had 2 heads when I told them I didn't have Jewish roots, I was just looking around.

The whole kibbutz thing amazes me. There are no end of young Westerners willing to work for nothing but food and board in these communes. You hear about settlements in the West Bank and Gaza, well these were the forerunners. When the government was encouraging the European Jews to come into the country after the holocaust, they settled them on Arab villages abandoned during the war of 1948. They were set up to be self sufficient, though that's changed alot since, now quite a few of them engage in commercial farming and high tech manufacturing. A generation of Westerners have volunteered to work for nothing on these things, and I can't figure out why. I guess it's like summer camp for 20 somethings except you have to do arts and crafts for 8 hours instead of 2. Add to that the political wrongness of the whole thing and I don't think I'll be doing my part for kibbutzhood anytime soon. I do, however, seem to be the only one.

I've had a good time here, but I think I'll feel a whole lot more comfortable once I'm over that border into Egypt tomorrow. This place still has far too many problems to make you feel relaxed here. I'm getting sick of having my stuff searched everytime I enter a bus station, supermarket, shopping mall or falafel stand. I'm currently sitting 2km from Aqaba in Jordan and 3km from the Egyptian border. After my last effort crossing a land border I've decided to give myself a whole day to do it. Here's hoping that's enough.

The Jerusalem syndrome


Jerusalem :: Israel

I will not bitch about Israeli customs. I will not bitch about Israel customs. I will...

Places: Jerusalem.

Coolest thing I did: Saw the Dead Sea Scrolls. Or some of them anyway.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Falafels are better in Israel than even in Lebanon. Viva life!

Ok, I lied. It took me 10 mins to get out of Jordan and walk to the Israeli border. It took 20 mins for an army of babes (due to compulsory military conscription for both sexes there are alot of very fit women with guns walking the streets of this country) to dismantle my luggage and go through my dirty underwear. These things I can understand. It then took 1.5 hours from the time I handed over my passport to the time I got a stamp. Any explaination? No. I just stood in the sun at the window and waited. Whenever I asked what was going on I got told to stand to one side. Man, was I pissed off at the other end. I think they made me wait 30 mins for every Arabic country I'd visited. Arse.

Jerusalem. So much history, most of it involving words like "bloody" and "destruction" and sometimes "religion". As home to the three biggest monothesic religions in the world, and being in a stategic crossroads between empires for a very long time, little Jeru has been destroyed by many interesting peoples. While some were good and left the people alone to do as they pleased, the owners of the big J have included Canaanites, Egyptians, Hittites, Mesopatamians, Hebrews, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Macedonians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Persians, Byzantines, Arabs, Crusaders, Egyptians, Turks, Britans and finally Israelis. That's alot of people.

There's too much to detail, read your guidebooks. Every spot in the city has a shrine to something or other and it has to be said the Christians are the most over the top about it. Here's the church where Mary was born. Here's the one where she died. Here's the one where Mary's mum Anne was born. Here's the chruch where Jesus stubbed his big toe. It goes on and on. My favourite story is about the Church of the Holy Sepulture. It's the church the Byzantines built when they converted the Roman empire to Christianity. Constatine the emperor wanted a tour of the big event spots of Jesus' life. He was, after all, the emperor of Rome, and that means you pretty much get what you want. He sent his mum to check it out for him. The local priests didn't know where the big J had been buried and they told Mrs Constatine so. Knowing an answer like that was going to get someone thrown to the lions, she had to come up with something. She had a dream the spot was under an old Roman temple (which makes no sense because the big J was buried outside the city walls) so they did some digging. Lo and behold, they found a lot of wood. "Pieces of the true cross!" they decided. When Consta showed up he was so impressed he founded the chruch that has been there in some form ever since. A couple of hundred years ago an Greek was digging in his garden just outside the walls and found a stone tomb that had never been used. Nearby, archeologists found a hill with the shape of a skull visible on it's side, matching Golgotha in the bible (meaning place of the skull, where they nailed Big J to the Cross). The C o E recognises this place as the probable Sepulture, whereas every other Christian sect has too much riding on the original church. So illustrates how irrelevant religious tradition is. Who cares where he was burried?

I also find the Muslims claim to the Dome of the Rock pretty tenuous too. Jerusalem is never named, only that Mohamed went from the "big mosque" (mecca) to the far mosque (Jeru?) on his winged horse? Oh come on...

Anyway, say what you want about the past, the Jews are firmly in control now. I mean that as no understatement. There are police and troops on every corner practically, and thanks to the 18-22 band for conscription, most of them are boys and girls with very big guns. The entire population, from my parents age down has spent 4 years in the armed forces and retains a bloody great big firearm in their house or on their possesion. I have to look at all this and wonder how they live in this state. I don't want to get too deep into politics, but surely the current actions of the government here are going to prolong the time these people must live in this constant state of fear. The trouble is, it seems to be accepted as normal. It's quite simply terrifying.

The hostel I'm staying in (oddly enough, the Petra Hostel) is a study in Jerusalem Syndrome. This is the name given to people who come to this place and go a bit over the top religious-wise. Psychiatrists have named it it's that common. There are South Africans learning Hebrew, more devout Catholics than you can poke a stick at and a whole lot of African Jews that quite simply scare me a little. I've not had a conversation that dosen't dive into the deep end of someone's beliefs very, very quickly. While I'm all for freedom of religion, I'm a child of the Western al-la-carte style spiritualism that's so common today. Anyone who holds views that are this extreme make me uncomfortable. It's a good learning experience to watch but man, I'm quite keen to get into the secular world I've been promised in Tel Aviv.

I've had to put into words more than once my views on the "solution" to this countries problems. Everyone wants and opinion and many won't let you just be polite and say "hey, not my bag to tell you what to do". I'm quite a big fan of states founded with no ethnic or religious grounds, because that's what I see working in Australia. This is NOT a popular view here. Everyone want's you to say either "2 state solution" or one of the sides is right and should wipe the other one off the face of the Earth. I find this later view particularly worrying coming from the Jews. Ever hear of the Nazis? What did they do to you? Egads.

Having said all this, Jerusalem is unique. I'd say, seeing as some 2/3rds of the Earths poluation have been aligned with one of the religions represented here at some part of their lives should visit it. If nothing else it gives you a first hand view of the realities on the ground all that history has brought this part of the world. Not alot of it is good.

The truth about Bedouins


Aqaba :: Jordan

Lots and lots of places starting with the word "Wadi".

Places: Damascus, Amman, Jeresh, Petra, Wadi Araba, Wadi Rum & Aqaba.

Coolest thing I did: Petra. Say no more.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The snorkeling on the Jordan side of the Red Sea is better than the diving.

The trip from Beirut to Amman via Damascus should take 4 hours. It was closer to 12 for me. After getting on a bus that was 2 hours late, being held up as a family got turfed from the bus for not having papers, being dumped in the outer reaches of Damascus and having to make my own way to the bus station I ended up having to share a taxi to Jordan. This was ok because 2 of my fellow passengers were Jordinians who helped me out, but we were stuck at the border because our other taximate, a Syrian was trying to take too much booze and alcohol into Jordan and wanted to try and sell it at the border instead of dumping it. Gah.

Amman is a big city. Jeresh has ruins. There's not a whole lot more I can say really. I did, however, managed to arrive at the start of Ramadan and that makes cities a less fun place to be in. Even if you can get food during daylight hours, you can't eat it without people calling you insensitive or spitting on you. On the upside though, the huge meal that takes place just after sunset prayers is something to behold. Most of the cafes drag rows and rows of tables out into the streets and blokes line up shoulder to shoulder to tuck into their first meal of the day. I say blokes because I didn't see any women that weren't tourists. Apparently it's more common to eat at home during Ramadan and it's only the workers and shopkeepers who can't make it back in time that eat on the street. Those and us hungry infadels.

It was on the bus from Amman to Petra that my trip started to get interesting. I met a couple of Japanese guys Keisuke & Shigeru while we were waiting for the bus, and soon were also talking to a yubbie (Young Urban Bedouin) named Ahmed. His family used to live in caves in the ruins in Petra until the goverment built them a village 15 years ago and moved them out. He offered to let us stay on his parents floor, which was cool.

Lets say something about staying with the Bedouins. From what they've told me if you are sleeping in a tent in the desert these days, you are staying with the Disneyland version of the locals. Most of them live in concrete houses with running cold water. Ahmed's family showed us great hospitality, but the conditions became cramped when the three of us were added to their already expansive family (at least 10 siblings!). His parents can't speak English, his father is partially deaf from time spent in an Iraqi jail during the Iran-Iraq war (long story), but they managed to grin at everything we said. For the cost of food we were shown a great deal of love. Ahmed's older brother also showed us a copy of National Geographic from 1998 where his mother is shown cooking bread for the photograhpers in the desert. It's nice to stay with famous people.

Petra is amazing. Even Indiana Jones movies don't prepare you for the legacy that the little known Nabeatens left here. Natural formations of sandstone in many red and yellow hues gave these arabs a plethora of soft stone to carve in. At the peak of their rule here, they carved massive stone temple and tomb fascades into the cliff faces, quite often exposing bands of contrasting colour that only adds to the effect. While much restoration work is going on, I found the tombs that had been left to the elements more amazing. The Nabeatens used to control the trade route between the Greek and Arab worlds, making them pretty big wigs in their time. They tamed the conditions by carving water resivouirs into the tops of the cliffs and designing a system of drainage that wouldn't be seen in Rome for another couple of hundred years. Pretty cool stuff. However, the Romans weren't real keen on competing powers so took over Arabia and moved the trade routes by force. The place fell into ruin until a Swiss bloke in the 1800s stumbed onto it. Then some other stuff happened and then Harrison Ford came here to play Indiana Jones. I've skipped some bits but you get the gist.

We were taken out to sleep under the stars in the desert of Wadi Araba. This involved 2 Bedoiuns, 2 Japanese and 1 Aussie all drunk on Arak (kind of like Turkish Raki) in a jeep. The more famous desert of Wadi Rum is more spectacular but to get to Wadi Araba you drive through some spectacular basalt mountains and then sleep on proper sand dunes, as opposed to the stoney kind Rum has. You also get the nice fact that it's very hard to get to and we had the whole place to ourselves.

After a second day in Petra (you could spend a week there easily) we hooked up with Ahmed's cousin Jafar who took us to the aforementioned Wadi Rum. He hoons around the desert like a man possessed and the fact that we'd already polished off some whiskey kind of helped his confidence. Like most Jordinians I've met, he's got a pretty lax attitude towards the Holy Month of Fasting. Due to being a bit late we jetted around the famous rock formations at top speed. These include a Sphinx, Romeo and Juliet kissing, two stone bridges and a sheer cliff where stones to build houses were cut from still showing ancient Aremaic, Hebrew and Arabic inscriptions. It's there that we watched the sun go down over the almost lunar landscape.

Due to Keisuke freezing his arse off the night before, he was not too keen to sleep out under the stars again, so Jafar took us to a "Bedouin Tent" his father's cousin ran for the tourists. There we met, well, tourists. While both the boys from Japan and the Arabs were good to me and lots of laughs, sometimes you have to converse with native English speakers just to keep your sanity. I get the feeling that these guys were paying hand over fist for the privilege of sleeping out there. Like I said, it's Bedouin Disneyland.

Later the next day we stopped off a Jafar's place in the Bedouin village on the Red Sea port of Aqaba, so he could change. Like the one in Petra, the government resettled the Bedouin in concrete houses, but these seemed a bit less shabby. Perhaps all those rich divers pay better.

Speaking of money, the understanding I came to with both our guides was obviously not extended to the Japanese guys. Whilst I came out of the whole encounter a whole lot better than if I'd had to organise all these tours and accomadation seperately, the yubbies were sure to make sure I was alone before we haggled over the cost of things. I pretty much got away with food and peterol money plus a few extra Dinars. I could see from the looks on the Japanese boys faces later on that a very valuable lesson had been learned about negotiating price before embarking on a trip. It's one thing to be offered free accomadation, but there always has to be an angle. These guys don't have other jobs so have to make their money from the tourists. How much depends on the tourist. It is definetly a sliding scale that does not favour East Asians. I found the continued overt racism a bit hard to deal with, but I have to admit I was treated like a king so I was a little more forgiving that I would normally have been. Looking back I was probably a valuable part of their scam from the start, as if I'd not gone with Ahmed in the first place I doubt the other guys would too. Still, I think what they paid for was a life lesson. And before the bill came out, they were having a ball.

Aqaba is amazing. We staying at a campsite over the road from the main dive beach and you would walk out of your hut, over the road then onto the coral. At maybe 10m offshore, the coral is good, at 20m offshore it's on par with anything I saw on the Barrier Reef. I saw so many kinds of fish, eels and even a turtle. Add to that the dropped a Russian tank (the treaded kind) down 5m 20 years ago and you have something unique. The tank is too small to swim into, but the doors have been prised open and the hatches removed. The magazines for the main guns are even still in place. The coral is starting to take over, and in another 20 years I think it will look even more bizzare.

So, I'm off into "occupied Palestine" just as soon as the Egyptians visa my passport. I've met enough people who have just come from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem to put my fears at ease, but I still can't help but be a bit worried due to fact the word "bomb" gets used alot in news stories about the place. However, it would be a shame to have come all this way and not done it.

Such a little country


Beirut :: Lebanon

What's good about Lebanon.

Places: Beirut, Baalbek, Sidon, Tyre & Tripolli.

Coolest thing I did: Saw the best Roman ruins ever at Baalbek. Better than Rome.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The Phonecians used to bury statues of their babies when they belived the gods had healed them. The Museum here has loads of marble statues of little fellas.

Lebanon is an interesting place. Thanks to the massive amount of bombing that went on during the civil war and Israeli incursions of the 70s and 80s, much of the city of Beirut has been rebuilt over the last decade. This gives the place a very glitzy feel, even if most of the people here live below the poverty line. There is a definite dual ecconomy here, with young, well-to-do things spending up big in the boutiques whilst even a 10 min walk into the suburbs will yeild people with dirt dreadlocked beards living in bombed out shells of buildings. It gives some interesting cultural clashes. I spend a whole day buming about in cafes near the university here and I found most of the young arabs speak English to each other in a think American accent whilst watching Egyptian pop music on MTV. There are groups of girls wearning about 10kg of gold each, sunglasses inside whilst smoking apple tobacco through waterpipes. I was told by a Lebanese Canadian staying in our hostel that it's just not seen as cool to be too arabic.

Like most of the Middle East, the things to do are see old ruins and learn things about the people of the country tou are in. I'll start with the ruins.

Baalbek has the best Roman ruins I've seen ever. And I've been to Rome. The site itself is made even more impresive by the fact the foundation of the temple is shrouded in mystery. There are huge stones that form the base of the temples that people can't agree on the origin of. Some people say Babylonians, other Assyrians. Some say little green men. Anyway, they were ancient before the Greeks or Romans took over Phoneica (the old name of the lands that make up Lebanon). None the less, the temple of Baccus there has survived wars, floods and earthquakes to remain mostly intact. Before the whole PR debacle of the first world war, the Kaiser of Germany paid for it to be excavated and there is a plaque commemorating his visit in 1898. It was taken down by the French after WW1, bought by a hotel owner who kept it in his lobby until the 70s and finaly rehung in the temple after the civil war when the Krauts gave the Lebs more money for restorations. The Germans really are paying alot for the bad press all those world wars gave them.

Tyre and Sidon are in the bible. There are ruins there, but they aren't very impresive. However, Tyre has one of the biggest remaining Palestinean refugee camps in Lebanon. That was an eye opener. Guarded by Syrian troops, the place is a shanty town surrounded by barbed wire and anti tank traps. For the first time in either Syria or Lebanon I felt a bit threatened. These people have had a bad run of things over the last 50 years and they aren't too keen on Westerners wandering about looking for ruins. While I can understand their frustrations with the world, it dosen't make me feel anymore comfortable when people start yelling at me for no apparent reason. At least the Syrians had all the guns, so nothing too bad could happen.

I have made myself a promise not to write anything about Israeli-Palestinean politics here. It's too complex and I'm no expert. It's one thing to give opinions with impunity about the politics of the Byzantine Empire, people are not likely to contradict you. However, everyone here knows way more about modern Middle Eastern politics than I do and aren't afraid to express it. I'm a bit sick of hearing about baby eating Israelis and their conspiracy to take over the world.

I was shocked to see soldiers on nearly every street corner armed to the teeth with assult rifles. I was even more shocked to find out most of them are Syrian. Since the Lebanese government asked for Syrian help during their civil war Lebanon has become a vassal state of their cousins over the border. It's never a healthy sign when there are UN staff and foreign military personel walking the streets of your country. In the near future, the Lebs will have to do something to regain their country.

So, the nightlife. Beirut is one of the only places in the Middle East with a nightlife and they know it. I restricted myself to one night out on the town and I think I'm going to have to award myself the "take a long hard look at yourself" award this morning. Beers cost 5 (british) pounds and spirits are 10, so it was all fancy stuff last night. I haven't been at my peak since I've lost alot of weight and have barely drunk since Budapest, but last night I was a shell. Add to this the fact the bartender was very generous with his servings and I made a bit of a dick of myself. I don't have real solid memories but I do recal running out of the bar screaming without paying my bill. I also left a snail trail of vomit pretty much up to my bed in the hostel and managed to wake the whole building trying to get into an unlocked door. Clap clap. It won't be the last time I say this, but I'm getting too old for this shit. Not so much because of the fact I can no longer hold my alcohol, but because I care when I make a fool of myself. I can no longer build up my self respect only to have it dashed on the rocks of wastedness repeateldy like I used to.

This may also explain the crimes against spelling, grammar and the truth in this entry. I can't be arsed editing this morning. Right, I'm off to crawl into a corner and shake for a while.

Little bits of Damascus


Beirut :: Lebanon

My best day was my last one. Also, the severe differences on crossing into Lebanon.

Places: Damascus & Beirut.

Coolest thing I did: Watched an old bloke tell stories in Arabic whilst drinking tea and smoking the narghila.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: "If you don't have a girlfriend, you can use prostitutes. They are very pretty but expensive." - Direct quote from a tips book written by travelers visiting a guesthouse in Damascus.

My last day in Damascus turned out to be one of the best ones in all of Syria. I was pretty much over the place and decided to start my last day with a sleep in. This was a good idea, as it allowed my ever ill guts to settle. I then had a light breakfast and negotiated a haircut and shave with the bloke at the end of the street my hotel was on.

The old bloke must have been about 70, with no teeth showing and dentures that were missing about half the replacements. He used hand clippers with his partial arthritis to give me my second haircut of the journey, the first being in Morocco 6 months ago. The #2 all over finished, he then began with what was a very shaky hand on a cut throat razor shave, which worried me a bit. However, he managed the whole thing without cutting me once and was overjoyed when another regular customer of this came in and could translate for him. He managed to get some basic information out of me and was instantly my best mate. Everytime I walked past from then on there would be that toothless grin, and invite for tea or at least a "Salam" (which means hello/welcome).

I did more tourism, seeing mosques, palaces and churches. I took my own pace and managed to meet a Shia from Iraq who tried his best to convince me that it was now safe to visit. He pointed out what they needed more than ever there was tourist money. I pointed out people are still getting shot for looking like westerners, especially with the US military style haircut I'd just got. The last thing I wanted to do was wander the streets of Baghdad looking like a US marine off duty. My bravery dosen't extend that far.

I spent the afternoon reading the paper at a cafe near the Omayyid Mosque, the key landmark of the old city. After a couple of teas I decided to do what the locals do and smoke a waterpipe of apple tobacco, the narghila made famous by Jabba the Hutt. Whilst sitting there I struck up a conversation with two 20 year old Syrian blokes who have just entered the I.T. industry and have wide eyed dreams of going to work with one of their older brothers in Las Vegas. With a vast knowledge of Western music (via mp3 downloads) and basketball I had one of the more close-to-normal conversations of my trip. They told me narghilas had only become trendy again recently, and used to be only for the old blokes. They also mentioned they liked to fill the thing with whiskey instead of water for added effect. Thought the translation was off, I think they also soak the tobacco in LSD as well sometimes. I don't trust that stuff, and as a result don't know the chemistry well enough, but I don't think that would work.

While we were sitting there, this old guy in a fez gets up on a special chair looking over the cafe and takes up a sword in one hand and a book in the other. The boys explained to me he tells stories of Arab history every night to great effect. While it was quite confusing (as it was all in Arabic), he likes to yell alot, bang his sword on a metal table to cheers from the crowd and often has them in stitches. I think he was making an example of me by pointed at me everytime he mentioned "infadels" (which made everyone laugh), but it was in no way anything but a bit of fun. I loved it.

One thing I liked about Syria is all the hotels and guesthouses catering to backpackers have bound exercise books where travelers can write tips to each other about everywhere between Istanbul and Cairo. They range from very useful to side splitingly funny to illegible to political. I tend to find anyone who picks a forum like that to tell their political views only picked them up 10 minuites ago. My favourite onesider was a tip telling people not to go to Israel and thus "...give money to Sharon (the butcher) to kill Palestinean babies." Anyone who has been following Middle Eastern politics for more than 10 mins knows Sharon's nickname is "The Bulldozer", not "The Butcher". Ametuers.

Here's a tip, if you go to Syria, you fill out a card of your personal details like in every country in the world. Keep this, don't throw it out like I did. While it only costs $US2 to replace at the border, it sends bus drivers into fits and they threaten to not let you on their bus because they think you will hold it up.

Another tip, everytime you are in a toilet that has paper in the Middle East, steal as much as you can carry. While I know this is probably why most don't have paper, you don't want to be the last one sitting with no paper when the music stops. It's a dog eat dog world.

Today, I got to Beirut. It's a stark contrast. You can get papers published today in English (instead of 5 days ago), the food places are more recongnisable and clean & people seem to have money. Seeing as they are coming out of a huge civil war and have been the victims of a proxy war waged between Israel and Syria for the last 2 decades, things feel better here. While that unstopable Syrian hospitality isn't as strong with the hip, urban Lebanese here, it feels a whole lot less repressed. While Assad the younger ni Syria has been far more liberal than his papa was, there's still a certain tension in the air. Despite the fact half of Beirut's buildings are still waiting to be rebuilt, and the cops look like soldiers, it feels so much safer.

The only place I can compare to Beirut is Sarajevo, and even then it's hard to make. There are loads of buildings still in a state of ruin here, but instead of faceless communist blocks like Bosnia, the buildings here are shells of beautiful French-Arabic townhouses and shops. The eyesocket windows are all covered by twisted wrought iron balconies. In some cases, shops have opened up on the ground floor even if the next 4 are a hollow shell. Trendy cafes have been built next to bullet pocked shells. Seeing as Beirut itself stopped being involved directly in the wars in the 80s, it's taken a long time to rebuild, but it's getting there. It's nice to see alot of restorations rather than ultra modern concrete things. It will help avoid another Skopje (my absolute least favorite capital in the world).

Alot for such a small gap, but I had a very good last couple of days. I didn't want to get them lost in stories of weak bowels. Things are most wonderful.

Real cool old stuff


Damascus :: Syria

However, Israel should have picked a better time for their cross border incursions. First time in 30 years they've been into Syria and I just happen to be here.

Places: Palmyra & Damascus.

Coolest thing I did: Found the nightlife that the Lonely Planet said didn't exist in Damascus. Oh, and Palmyra was pretty good too.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The King of Spain is going to be here this week.

Sorry if I don't edit this too much, the stupid computer keeps changing back to Arabic on me.

Syria continues to surprise me. I thought the worst possible thing that could happen while I was here was more bad mouthing of the evil Syrians by the Yanks and military incursions by Israel. Instead of people burning Westerners in the street, as the helpful travel advice from the Australian government suggests, there is a stream of intelligent discussion on the thing. Papers debate everything, the TVs are on the news all the time and you can sit in a barbershop, bus or tea house and get a heated conversation on events. Still, it makes that whole Jewish US conspiracy theory I talked about last time a little easier for them to belive. Why does Mr Bush keep opening his mouth on TV?

Anyhow, back to the tourism. Palmyra is something spectacular. You want to see ruins? How about a desert landscape dotted with Assyrian burial chambers, muslim castles, Babylonian temples and streets of Roman ruins you don't see in Rome itself. It's also in the middle of nowhere, so despite a few tour busses everynow and then, you have the place to yourself most of the time. While I was feeling a bit ruined-out I have to say this was well worth the trek out to the desert to see. As the stone has all yellowed and decayed by the constant ravages of 1500 years of desert weather it is an eerie place that has to be seen to belived, especially at sunset. For once, when the Lonely Planet told me "If you have to see one site in the country..." it was telling the truth. I'd use my usual line of words not doing it justice, but neither do the pictures I took. It's too big to even photograph well.

Due to my continuing stomach bug woes (and I'm not alone, you should see the state of the shared squat toilet in the hotel, eeewww) I was quite wrecked when I got onto the bus for Damascus and wanted nothing more than to sleep. However, as I got on two very enthusiastic young blokes (one turned out to be a Palestinean born in Syria and the other a local) waved for me to share the back seat with them. They were two weeks away from an English exam they had to pass to go and work for the Syrian Petroleum Company. They were also very happy when they heard my Australian accent as their English teacher was also from Sydney and it was easy for them to understand me. They wanted to discuss anything and everything, and it put me in an excellent mood. I dare say they will be going to work in 2 weeks with no problem, judging by how much they were trying to get every sentence correct. They also got me onto the minibus into town from the bus station and dropped me off in front of my hotel. It would have been a whole lot harder myself and I couldn't thank them enough, especially with my crook guts.

So Damascus is everything Aleppo is not. It's a city that houses 3 million at night but swells to 7 million as everyone pours in to work. It is a huge modern city with one of the world's oldest constantly inhabited old cities smack bang in the middle of it. In fact, it's only real contender to the title is Aleppo, so Syria is pretty old. The old city has the stuff you expect mosques, palaces, souqs and whatnot, with the most notable thing being the resting place of Saladin (whose story I told last time).

When I got in, I managed to meet up with Paul, who I was traveling down from Istanbul with again. He and a couple of other blokes were on their way out on the town, of which I was skeptical. A big night out here is tea, a hookah pipe and bed by 11, so I didn't like their chances of finding anywhere to drink that didn't have it's fair share of Romanian prostitutes as clientele. After following some dud leads, talking to the younger blokes on the street and by the good graces of a Syrian guy who lived in Texas, we found ourselves in a fairly exclusive looking club. Drink prices made it feel more exclusive that it probably was. However, western fern bar decor and a mix of Egyptian and Western pop had loads of non-be-headscarfed girls and guys all drinking and dancing away. I dare say they weren't real happy with a bunch of ragged looking backpackers casing about the joint, but they did let us in. I should have had a shower and shave after truding around the desert all day. Ooops.

They rest of the guys and out much bigger party left a big later to go onto another club. I decided to give it a rest (I spent more time in the toilet than on the dance floor) and go back early. The story I heard this morning involved cocktails that were 3/4 alcohol, barfights that involved bleeding and military looking police with assult rifles. I'm pretty glad I wasn't there to be Stevil in a situation like that, seeing the inside of a Syrian jail is not on my list of things to do here.

As it's Friday today (the muslim equivalent of Sunday) most things are closed, so the bulk of my tourism will be tomorrow. I thought I'd have a quite day today reading the papers, but the newest English newspaper is 4 days old and the news magazines I saw in Greece, so we're talking 3 weeks back. I've been told that's so the censors can tear out any pro-American takes on Middle Eastern politics, but I've seen no evidence so far. Instead, I just looked at the pictures in the Arab newspaper instead. I also wanted to see something of the Rugby world cup, but no one even seems to know what rugby is here. I don't usually get these urges for the comforts of home, but not holding in food is making me feel a bit weak and washed out. I hope it improves.

I think I will be off into Lebanon on Monday or Tuesday.

Safe as houses


Hama :: Syria

Pleasant surprises all round.

Places: Aleppo, The Dead Cities, Hama & Crac des Chevaliers.

Coolest thing I did: Took the taxi out to the ruined Byzantine cities in the desert around Aleppo.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: You can turn a single entry visa into a multiple entry one by writing "TWO" over the "ONE" printed on it. That's all the woman did when I got a dual entry and paid extra for it.

So, what do you know about Syria? If you are like me, you'd half have in the back of your mind that it was some kind of totalitarian military dictatorship full of terrorists and the like. It has a pretty bad rep, but just getting here, I've had to change that perception. It's a truly amazing place, made all the more so by the fact that there are not hundreds of Aussies getting drunk everywhere like there are in Turkey. I think the novelty of Westerners is still setting in here, because you don't get ripped off as regularly as you do in Turkey and everyone is so nice. I mean, very, very nice. People have been stopping me in the street asking where I'm from, do I need any help and then if I say no, just saying "welcome to Syria". In Morocco or Turkey, this would be a prelude to wanting to sell me a carpet. It's a nice change.

The other good thing is it's stupidly cheap, even more so than say Poland or Slovakia. This is due to the fact that people are pretty poor here, and mass tourism hasn't arrived yet. I've been here for 5 days now and I'm still on my first 50 euros! Having said that, I have been pretty sick from eating something (I'm not sure what) and I spent most of yesterday in bed with a fever and diarrhea (too much information?) and am avoiding too much of the stranger local food. I was having a pretty good run up until now, but I think yesterday's rest did me good. I think the heavy run from Greece into Istanbul the direct to Syria was taking it's toll a bit.

So, what's there to see? Well Aleppo isn't a real pretty place. It has some spectacular things in it (a mosque built under the first Muslim dynasty, a cidatel that's never been captured) but as a settlement that's been constantly inhabited for close to 10,000 years, all the layers are showing their age. Add to that some genius French city planner decided to run straight roads through it and destroy much of the old town hasn't helped. Add to this the fact that the Ba'ath party have been in power for long enough to turn it into a pseudo socialist paridise (ie lots of concrete and posters of President Assad everywhere) and it's probably seen better days. Still, the people are very nice and you make do. The souq here is a whole lot more real than the one in Marrakesh, as it seems to sell nothing a tourist could want. With motor cycles and donkeys running back and forth through the winding, irregularly paved streets you find yourself looking over your shoulder alot.

Myself, Paul (whose been traveling with me since Istanbul) and another bloke from the hostel hired a taxi off the street to take us out to some of the Dead Cities outside Aleppo. As this is the land crossroads from Istanbul (old Constantinople) into the Middle East, it used to be a a strategic point for the Byzantine empire. Many old cities and churches were built in the first 600 years after Christ but fell into ruin during the reign of the Turks, due mostly to a move to sea bound trade. This has left several hundred ruins all over the desert here, which you can see by day trip from Aleppo. The most famous is St Simeon, which is a huge Orthadox chruch dedicated to a monk who lived on top of a pillar. It's a long story.

Our taxi driver, Mad Mohammed was pretty good to us, even though the inspector at St Simeon reckons we were getting our ride around for about half of the going rate. He didn't mind waiting as we wandered around and took photos of the overgrown pillars and arches like proper tourists. However, driving with him is an experience. His use of the horn was not at all sparing and wild gesticulations at other drivers, usually with both hands were a little nerve wracking. He spoke next to no English but was highly amused by us knowing the words falaffel and kebab. He'd yell "falafel kebab!" at the top of his lungs and go into giggling fits for minuites on end.

I'm currently in Hama, which is famous for having water wheels in the river. That's it. Water wheels. It's also within striking distance of Crac des Chevaliers, the best preserved of the Crusader castles and possibly one of the best remaing castles in the world. It comes from the time when the hordes of Catholic Western Europe managed to retake much of modern day Syria and Israel/Palestine from the armies of Islam. When much of the Byzatine empire was taken from them by these uppity arabs, the emperor of the East asked the pope in Rome for a hand. He proclaimed a crusade to reconquer the holy land from the Muslims. The first 2 crusades were hapazard affairs, but managed to get a foothold into much of the coast. The real thing started with the 3rd crusade, which pitted the armies of Christianity under Richard the Lionheart of England (of Robin Hood fame) against Saladin, a Kurdish warlord. Unlike the resistance they'd met before, Saladin's army were professionals and this showed in the stalemate that ended the conflict. Big Ricky Lionheart knew he could retake Jerusalem, but did not have enough me to garrison it. This was the peak of the crusades and it ended with the reconquest by the Muslim armies. Crac des Chevaliers should have had 2000 men in it but had 50 when the Muslims arrived. They could have held out for 5 years, but abandoned it for safe passage. It was never taken and thus is in immaculate condition (with minor restorations over the years).

Saladin does play a big part in the Arab psyche too. Witness the fact that many of the propaganda posters in Iraq showed Saddam dressed as Saladin on horseback, holding off the Crusaders, which he equates with the armies of "Little Bush".

While everyone here likes to have a talk, it can turn quickly into politics with no warning. This is not such a problem, it's good to hear the other side of the story, but the following themes keep reoccuring:

• America is controlled by a Jewish consipracy.
  
• The Arabs have been persecuted by the whole world, whcih is why they are so poor here
  
• Only those with military power can shape their own desitinies.
  
• The recent history of the middle east is a divide and conquer tactic by the West.
  

Given this is a totalitarian state, there are secret police and state controlled media, it's easy to see how these conspiracy theories form, but I'm amazed at how uniformly accepted they are. Like anywhere, governments look for someone to blame when their own ineptitude gets them into trouble (look at the Australian government and those evil migrants), but we tend to have a liberal media to allow us to make more informed decisions. This makes George and his Axis of Evil making just that much more dangerous. People here are not hating their government more than America because they brought sanctions upon them.

Right, I think I've had to change of plan. I don't know how much I trust this multiple entry visa I've been given, so I'm going south to Damascus and seeing everything else I want to see in Syria before going into Lebanon. That way, if I have issues with my visa I can get a transit one at the border and go direct to Jordan.

How to cook a Syrian visa


Istanbul :: Turkey

Straight puttin' it down for Anatol-I-Ay.

Places: Istanbul.

Coolest thing I did: Realised I'd missed the best bits of Istanbul last time and got to see them for the first time now.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Australias are the biggest beetroot consumers in the world (thanks Khim, you're a babe). We even beat Borsch land, or Russia as the locals call it.

Man, do I hate 22 hour bus rides or what? Thank God it only took 20 instead of the advertised 22 to go from Athens to Istanbul. Bring a very long book and don't expect too much in the way of sleep. Every 3 hours the stupid driver decided he was going to turn on the lights and stop the bus because he wanted a smoke. Bastard.

So, here I am, back in old Constantinople. The best thing about being here this time is I don't have to rush about and do all the touristy stuff like I did last time I was here. I've seen the Grand Bazaar, Palace and all the mosques, so I'm working more on my kebab eating skills, hookah pipe smoking skills and cosuming beer that is far cheaper than in Greece. Thanks to the fact they've slowed inflation from 120% last time I was here to a mere 30%, things still cost roughly the same as they did last time. Kebab is still 1,000,000. Viva life.

My big adventure so far has been attempting to aquire a Syrian visa. One of the blokes in the hostel wanted to do the same, so we split a cab as it's miles into the suburbs. Not only did the taxi driver decide by Syria we meant the Czech Republic, but no one on the street could tell us where the address was, even though it turned out to be on the next street. Not only that, but when we did find it, we discover that you need a "letter of introduction" from your embassy. So we catch a bus to the Australian consulate, which is even further away and managed to bay about 20 euros for a piece of paper that has exactly the same information on it as my passport. So by this time, it's too late to go back and I have to return to the Syrians tomorrow. Oh, how I love bureaucracy. I'm almost afriad to ask what extra I'll have to do to get a multiple entry one if I want to visit Lebanon and go back through Syria to Jordan. That may go into the "too hard" basket.

However, I'm loving Istanbul again. This time there's less being hassled on the street as I know it's ok to say "no thanks", then "I said no" and then swear if necessary. The usually give up after that. I've also, quite by accident, seen some of the best views of the huge Ottoman mosques rising out of the skyline over the Bosphorus, which I didn't see last time. I think this place is unique in that regard. I tried to see similar things all over Morocco, but nothing comes close to that silhouette of minaretes rising over urbania like this place has. It's made me decide to stay on a few more days and just do not too much. I may even go rile up the carpet sellers, just to see how small a price I can get. I don't want a carpet, just to play the haggling game.

So, if all goes well, I'll be off to Syria later this week. I've met an Aussie whose just done my trip backwards (Egypt up to Istanbul overland) and he's reassured me over my (slight) fears of suicide bombings in Israel (or Occupied Palestine as the Syrian visa form calls it). He said he felt "safe as houses" the whole time he was there, so I do feel a bit better. Before him, I'd not met anyone who'd been there in the last 2 years, and in the Middle East, that's a lifetime.

By staying at the world famous Orient Hostel, I'm surrounded by Aussies for the first time in recent memory. Besides a few token Kiwis and Canadians, I haven't seen anyone else (except the Korean dude I was on the bus with from Athens). I think this may be due to the fact Americans now have to pay USD$100 (!!!) to get into Turkey. Man, I bet you they vote for the other guy now (or girl, I'm putting money on Hillary Clinton running for president next year, mark my words).

Short, but not so much time has passed since last time. Right, I'm off to happy hour (which goes for 3 hours...God I love this place).

Lots of old stuff


Athens :: Greece

Theres alot of this Greek history stuff.

Places: Litohoro (Mt Olympus), Kalambaka (Meteora), Athens, Delphi, Nafplio, Mycenea, Sparta, Mystras & Olympia.

Coolest thing I did: Ran a lap of THE olympic track the ancient Greeks used. Don't ask my time.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The greeks have more than one word for love. Awww. Agape.

This has been a big couple of weeks. I won't go into the usual tirade but rather treat each spot separately. Here goes:

Litohoro: It appears that the Greek gods got sick of their old home on Mt Olympus and decided to leave it to hikers and skiers. While I didn't do the 2 day hike to the summit (time is starting to get the better of me) I did go half a day to the point where you can see all of the 7 peaks of the mountain. It was made a bit better by the fact that there were no other tourists that got off my bus, so I wasn't surrounded by flash bulbs everytime I turned a corner. This has become a problem in places I've been since.

Meteora: This has to rate as one of the best places I've been, ever. Full stop. Scientists think (how come they never know, always think?) that the huge stone pillars that make the place unique were formed by the rushing water of an ancient sea that isn't there anymore. Thanks to the marauding Turks (always marauding those pesky Turks) the Byzantines decided it would be a cool idea to put their monestaries places that were hard to get at. So they built them on the top of the sheer stone pillars that dot the landscape at Meteora. If you are a photographer, you'll be in heaven when you see this place. Turn a corner and you see something that looks just a whole lot cooler than the very cool thing you just saw. I can't do this place justice in words, you have to see it. It is, however,easily accesed by tour busses. I walked the 17 km round trip to see all the 6 monestaries that still work, but it involves sharing it with the teeming hordes who caught the bus up. I don't usually get on my high horse about mass tourism, but this place would be so much cooler if it was only accessible by foot trail. At least my photos the stones wouldn't look like anthills.

Athens: Last time I came to Greece for my go-to-the-islands-and-get-drunk trip, I was in Athens for a total of 6 hours. It managed to leave me with a severe dislike of the place. That has now moved up a couple of notches into the low hatred level. How on Earth this place expects to host an Olympics next year is beyond me. The roads are chaos, there are two seperate bus stations linked by suburban busses where the signs are only in Greek (which most tourists that show up next year won't speak) and take a good 30 to 40 mins to reach from the centre. Add to this the fact there seems to have been super inflation since drachmas became euros and I'm not real enamoured of the place. Still, I only stopped here due to the fact it's the transport hub for the rest of the country.

Delphi: This was the best classical site I saw, despite promises of Olympia being better. You just can't beat it for location. The main temples and stuff overlook a huge rift in the mountains that open up to the sea. Even if there was nothing old and Greek here, this would be the place to come for scenery. The temple of Athena, where the Oracle used to do her thing is the pick of the bunch. I like the story of the oracle. Just say you're an ancient greek bloke, let's call you Jason. You want to go nick some golden fleece, but your mates, the Argonauts, aren't so keen. The best thing you could have done is gone to the Oracle and asked to check out if the trip would all be cool. She'd then gut a chicken, read the bits inside and say yay or nay. For the rest, read the ramblings of an old blind Greek guy called Homer. Who is not Bart's Dad.

Nafplio/Mycenea: This is a nice combo. Nafplio is an old Byzantine/Venetian town that has been restored to tourism level pristinedness. It's nice, but not somewhere you'd stay unless it wasn't the best place to stay to see Mycenea. Crete was the first place in Europe to have culture, but Mycenea was the first place on the mainland to do so. Now it's been stripped of most of it's treasures, which are in musemums, but it's a pretty cool place to visit none the less. It's the supposed home of Agamemnon, who was the bloke who led the Greek armies to attack Troy. Don't worry if you don't know the story, it's going to be a movie staring Brad Pitt next year. Urgh.

Sparta/Mystras: Sparta was the other big city state in ancient Greece, alongside Athens. While Athens is now the capital of the new country, Sparta hasn't got much to offer. No real ruins either. But it's 30 mins from Mystras, which is way cool. It was an old hill fort and town during Byzantine times and was the last place to fall to the Turks, even outlasting the old Captial Constantinople (Istanbul today). What's left is an impressive amount of ruins clinging to a hillside with one restored, operating Nunnery. Again, only pictures can do it justice.

Olympia: Prepare to be underwhelmed. It is a good site with some interesting things, but overall it's alot of rocks arranged with some imagination. The best bits were the coloums that used to line the temple of Zeus, which have been lefted in their toppled state, and the cleared olympic track, which, as I said earlier, I ran around. Man, you don't run for 6 months and this can be very tiring. I think I've lost alot of fitness. OK, maybe I'm being a girl. Anyway, the town of Olympia is a single street of tourist shops. This dosen't make for a huge Saturday night. I spent most of it playing the card game arsehole and talking about things travelers seem to talk about. These consist of where I've been, where I'm going, visas, train passes, showering in your thongs (flip flops for you Northern Hemispherers, not underpants) and tales of extreme stinginess. While this can been cool for your first month on the road, it's now approaching 6 months and I'd love to have just one conversation about something more meaningful, or even just different.

So, here I am, back in Athens. I have felt the bruising pace of the last couple of weeks should have been taking more toll on me, but if anything I feel better than I have in at least a month or so. I think it's been helped by the endless supply of Greeks who have been willing to talk to me about their life, even with no provocation at all. I've met expat Greeks who live all over Europe, North America and Oceania, most of them well over 50. I've found the expats to be rather open minded, in contrast to the younger types I met in Thessas, most of whom had never been overseas before. More proof that travel broadens the mind. However, the reality of the whole trip is now reaching me. I have now fixed dates for when I will be in Egypt and when I'm flying back to the UK, so I know exactly how much time I have left. I've also decided to go overland to Egypt, as Syria, Lebanon and Jordan sound safe enough. I'm a little concerned about the regular suicide bombings in Israel, but I'm going to take that decision much closer to the time. At the moment I'm leaning towards going there, leaving enough time to do so. We shall see. Now it gets pretty interesting. Tomorrow I'm off to Istanbul, so I should be out of Europe by the time you next see something here.

A stark contrast


Thessaloniki :: Greece

Wow. The EU does seem to work.

Places: Bitola, Niki, Florina & Thessaloniki.

Coolest thing I did: Joined the locals in Florina by sitting in a cafe and watching market day go by.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The Greeks actually use the term FYROM for the country directly to their north, which they pronounce "Fi-rom".

International relations in the Balkans can make for some interesting journeys over borders between neighbours who hate each other (bearing in mind every country has been at war with every other country it borders down here). My trip from Orhid to Thessaloniki is 180km as the crow flies or 200 ish km by road. I took a minibus from Orhid to Bitola, took a 5 euro taxi ride to the border at Niki, walked over the border (despite being questioned over both my Bulgarian & Turkish stamps in my passport), hitchhiked to the nearest town, Florina (thank God I got picked up by a helpful Austrian Jehovahs Witness and his 2 young kids, thanks Christan, you're a dude) and then took a bus to Thessaloniki. Round trip time? 9 hours.

However, as a side bonus I did get to wait in Florina on market day. Despite having very similar attitudes to their neighbours in the North about how laid back to live life, it's immediately obvious there is a whole lot more money around if you are Greek rather than a FYROMian. I managed to be there on market day and the whole town seemed to be out. It's home to a rather large university so many of the cafes were filled with students who probably should have been in class. I have to say something else too, there is something in the water here. There is something abnormal about all these skinny girls with huge breasts. They are all either on track for massive weight gain or lower back problems in later life.

You would have to be pretty generous to call Thessaloniki pretty. Most of the waterfront has been converted into Greece's second largest industrial port and only Athens (if memory serves me) has a more hotch potch collection of high rise spreading back to the horizon. At least it's not as polluted.

However, it has a cafe scene that would put anything else I've seen, including Rome, to shame. There are rows of ultra hip cafes and bars that must have employed many, many interior designers. It seems to be the done thing to get very, VERY dressed up and sip either one cocktail or an iced coffee for a very long time. And with the prices most of these places charge for a drink, I'm not surprised. The other option of drinking 80 euro cent Amstels from the kebab shop on the square has been far more appealing to me. It seems here that the best thing to spend money on here is to be seen, and that isn't cheap. They probably aren't too keen on all these grotty looking backpackers sitting on their ruins drinking out of the can.

I'm finding my dealings with the young Greeks my own age and under a bit harder than I thought. Sydney has a huge Greek community, and like most immigrant groups to Australia, are as open minded as anyone else. Even in former Yugoslav war zones I've found people weary of politics and unchecked nationalism, in places where wars were fought over these things in my lifetime. However, all the students I've met here have been blatantly anti American, anit Turkish and uphold the FYROMians are after all their land. No debate, all these things are taken as fact. If theres nothing that gets me riled it's people who won't defend their shaky positions with some kind of logic. I haven't met even a representative number of locals, but students are usually open to debate or friendly conversation. This perplexes me a little.

So, things have been a little easier on me here. The fact there have been tourists here for hundreds of years means I'm not having much trouble with getting around or finding things. I did love the challenge of the Bosnias, S &Ms and Macedonias of the world, but sometimes you need a break. With the Middle East coming up in less than 2 weeks, I need to get my head together a bit. After a break here, I'm off to some old famous Greek things tomorrow.

The good, the bad and the ugly


Orhid :: Macedonia

After she bled on me, I decided to take the room.

Places: Belgrade, Skopje & Orhid

Coolest thing I did: Talked to the locals about things. Everyone here knows someone from Australia.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Sociologists belived the Macedonians were ethnic Bulgarians as late as the 1930s.

After the Romanian visa debacle I decided to use the return ticket I had to Belgrade (for some reason a return to Budapest was cheaper than one way) and overnight there before heading south to Macedonia. I have to admit, I was not prepared for Macedonia. One of my oldest friends (since 5th grade) is from Macedonia and I had a rosy picture of the place because I knew someone from there. This may have meant I was not prepared for a country that just dosent get a whole lot of tourists. As a result, I got knocked for six a bit on my arrival here.

Just to get a point across before I start, I'm going to call the country Macedonia, even though it's real name is the "Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia". The Greeks wouldn't recognise the country unless they changed the name from "Macedonia". Despite this, the locals (the FYROMians I guess) quite cheekily call it Macedonia anyway. So will I.

So, I learnt from that tome of unchecked facts, the Lonely Planet that I could get a visa from the border. What they didn't mention was you had to pay 900 Macedonian denars for it, despite the fact you can't exchange MKDs outside the country. Hrmmm. As I had only Yugoslav dinars (which they don't take) I had to dig through my bag for any left over currency. I finally found 10 pounds in my shorts, which they took at a kind of unfair exchange rate. Want to make yourself unpopular with a bus full of people? Try holding the bus up for half an hour at the border. Ooops. I did, however, get much better treatment when I told the border guards I was going to stop in Macedonia, not just jet through to Greece. So the lessons are always have Euros handy and always flatter the country you are about to enter. Shave too, something I hadn't done in about 2 weeks.

Skopje (or C-K-O-square with no bottom-J-E as it's known to the Serbs and FYROMians) is possibly the most arse slappingly hideous "city" I've ever seen. I usually try to find the bright side of any place, but Skopje is a hole, pure and simple. There was an earthquake in the 1960s and all the aid money went to building the worst space age grey concrete monstrosities that the products of communist architecture school can produce. Grey concrete goes stained and ugly very quickly, and without money to keep up all these blights on the landscape, the place is stupendifyingly (is that a word) ugly. Somehow, they have managed to combine impracticality and hideousness in each one. Add to this that most of the rest of the city isn't high rise, it looks like a failed architectual grave yard.

Cheap accomadation isn't around. Not that many people visit the place, for obvious reasons, so there are only hotels that charge a small fortune to anyone unfortunate enough to get stuck there. I also got stung slightly by the taxi mafia. Skopje has no public transport that goes anywhere useful, so I was accosted by a young bloke who spoke good English and offered to take me to the hostel. He told me it was 6km away and would do it for 1000MKD (about 14 Euros). I looked on my LP map and saw it was about 1km, but those maps quite often have a warped sense of scale. I worked him down to 600MKD (10 euros), even though I didn't really want a ride. When he got to the hostel (which was full anyway) I handed him a 1000 note and he said he wanted 6 of those. I told him we agreed on 600 and he told me his English wasn't so good. I got out of the taxi and told him we should go into the hostel and have the owner adjudicate. I was pretty sure he would chase this bloke off for trying to change me 100 euros for a ride that did turn out to be about 1km. I was by this time pretty riled, so exited the taxi and removed my baggage. He asked me if I had a problem I wanted sorted out. Now, I'm not a real big guy, but he was a runt so I mentioned to him his mother was of ill repute. Then I told him if he wanted any money at all he would have to produce my 400 change before I would hand him over the 1000. He did this and drove off yelling possible unice things to me in Macedonian.

At least the hostel owner was willing to call his mate who had a hotel in town that was a mere 25 euros a night. His mate came and got me, which I suspected meant I was being as fleeced as I thought I was. Putting all this in context, I wanted nothing but to be out of Skopje, never to return. I was of half a mind to go right to Greece.

So, Saturday night in Skopje is kind of a mess. There's one row of cafes where everyone hangs out. The street is supposed to be pedestrianised, however new paving is being put down so young blokes speed through in their ancient Yugos and do burnouts in the dust. All cars here must play Beyonce and JayZ at top volume by law.

My arrival to Orhid almost killed Macedonia for good for me. When I got off the bus, and old lady and an old man were both arguing to try and get me to stay at their place, Croatia style. Though I saved YB from this, in these situations I like to get the two parties to auction off their wares. It never got to this. The old bloke got angry and backhanded the old woman over the face with his signet ring. This opened up a huge gash on her face and I had to look on in horror as the blood started rushing out of their face. Though I helped her clean up and went with her (I didn't like the idea of giving money to this woman hitting monster), I was secretly thinking "get me out of this lunatic asylum". She turned out to be very nice, cooking me breakfast, giving me tourist advice and telling me about her sister in Melbourne.

Orhid isn't Skopje. It's been one of the highlights of my whole journey. It's a crystal clear lake with a whole lot of history. It was the place where disciples of Sts Cyrill and Methodius set up show to teach people the Cyrillic alphabet. The two brothers from Thessaloniki were charged by the church of Constantinople to convert the Slavs to Christianity before those pesky Catholics did it. So Cyrill, being a bright spark, invented a new alphabet to write the Slavic language in to teach it to the new Slav priests. So it's his fault this place is spelled C-X-P-backwards N-little house on all the bus timetables. There are a whole lot of Orthadox churches, as a result, sitting quite photogenically over the lake on cliffs and stuff. All very nice.

The other old site is the castle of Simon, who was the Tsar of the Bulgarians at around 900ish AD. Bulgarians you say? Yeah, Macedonia was the centre of the first Bulgarian empire, and the castle he ruled from at Orhid is being restored now. Now, this is a bit of a sticking point. When the Russians decided to liberate the Bulgarians from Turkish rule in 1878, they forced the Turks to give the Bulgarians 60% of the Balkan peninsula as their new homeland, including Macedonia. This was the extent of the land holdings of the Bulgarians at their peak. This rankled the Western European powers (England, France, et al), who made the Bulgarians give Macedonia back to the Turks. All land claims and two wars have been fought over this ruling. Neither side is happy, and I can see it flaring up again in the future. Add to this the scientists of the early 20th century went around saying the Macedonians were Bulgarians under another name. Eeeks. Let's just say Balkan politics can be best explained that everyone thinks everyone else is in their land.

However, at every turn I have been reminded that what politicans say does not always reflect the will of the people. Most people I meet have been more willing to talk about their relations in Australia, which everyone seems to have. It appears most of them are ecconomic migrants from the former Yugoslavia. I also met one bloke who was perplexed as to why the Australian government wouldn't give him a tourist visa to visit his family. I told him I was perplexed about the same thing. It helped keep me out of Romania. Stupid Xenophobic government.

So my breakneck course in Balkan politics and history ends here. Tomorrow I'm going out of my way to avoid going back to Skopje by crossing into Greece the hard way.

Best laid plans


Budapest :: Hungary

"Unintended travel plans are dancing lessons from God." - Kurt Vonnegut

Places: Budapest

Coolest thing I did: Saw the right hand of St Stephen, the founder of Hungary (1000 plus years old!).

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The last song Johnny Cash did was a cover of the 9 inch nails song Hurt. How bizzare is that?

The twin cities of Buda and Pest have not failed to live up to the high standards I was only guessing at last time. It dosent look like I'm going to get to see any other places in Hungary, but this looks like the pick. I would rate it as one of the best capitals I've seen in all of Europe, and that's saying something. Despite being on the wrong side in 2 world wars and living through 45 years of communism, Hungary has managed to centre it's economic recovery on this one city, and it shows. Every corner seems to have a statue or building worth photographing.

Which is handy, as the nightlife here is starting to take me over a bit. It helps when you just randomly point cameras at things in a mildly hung over state that you are probably going to hit something worth photographing. It's been a while since I've been in such a lively city, and my liver hurts a little. Still having a ball.

So, where do I start? Let's start at home. The hostel I'm staying at is an old appartment in downtown Pest that is run by three young Serbian blokes who take it in turns so the place has someone sitting in the kitchen smoking spliffs 24 hours a day. They somehow manage to make sure there is a new hip hop CD in the stereo constantly throught the day and keep the place spotless. Free internet and laundry is also helping a lot. This kind of behavior has, however, gathered a clientel that isn't afraid not to sleep too much. If people are not our partying or eating, they are in the kitchen at all hours making merry. It's a good thing I'd rather join them than beat them. Most people who are in Budapest for things that don't include testing the 24 hour nightlife don't last past the first night.

I have witnessed possible the most heroic effort of self destruction ever though. Three Belgian blokes who are in my room have put in several nights in a row that have started mid afternoon and ended the following mid afternoon. It takes an incalculable amount of stanima to consume beer for that period of time. Then again, Belgian beer is stupidly strong, so maybe they are a bit more used to it. I feel safe leaving them sometime just before sunrise and witnessing the results than consider what kind of result that treatment would have on my body. Still, much fun had by all.

The city itself does look alot like Prague. There is a castle on a hill overlooking a bridge in almost the same positions as the one in the Czech capital, however the wider streets mean there's less space to cram tourist stalls together like in Prague. This is a good thing.

The Hungarians are really called Magyars, and came to Europe just over 1100 years ago. They were the last migration into Europe and were converted to Christianity by their king in 1000 AD, Stephen. I like that. There's statues of him all over the city and my ego won't let me not take pictures of them. His right hand is also in the main cathederal, and if you put a coin in, the glass around it lights up so you can see it better. I was hoping for music, but alas, there was none.

In the middle years, the old neighbours of the magyars in central asia came back to haunt them. The mongols (being mongols) under Mr Kubla Khan (Gengis' grandson) did a whole lot of rape/pillage/burning work to the Hungarians, then after a breif respite, the Turks came and conquered them. While this was probably bad for the Hungarian on the street, they did do one good thing. Baths. Budapest lies on a natural fault line and there are heaps of thermal springs in the city. Some of these now have posh bath houses built over them, and one of them is quite afordable. I spent an afternoon soaking in mineral springs inside a building that looks a whole lot like an Austrian palace. This is pretty cool. It's also likely to put you to sleep if you have been going out as much as I have. I found myself nod off in the sauna more than once. Still, an excellent way to unwind.

So, the Austrians kicked out the turks and took over Hungary for a while. By the end of the World Wars, having sided with Germany both times (d'oh!) the Hungarians found themselves without much of their old lands and under the rule of a friendly communist dictatorship. When ever the locals refer to this "liberation" they always make inverted comma signs with their fingers. The Russians showed up and stayed for 45 years. Not much was making them leave. After Uncle Joe Stalin died, the Hungarians were the first communist state to try free elections and pull out of the Warsaw pact, in 1956. This did not end well, with the uprising being crushed by the Red Army. This showed the world what the Warsaw pact was really about. In order to protect their lands during a land war in Europe against Nato, the USSR set up a ring of communist regiems around them, calling this "alliance" the Warsaw Pact. Everyone who tried to get out of it (before Poland in 1989) ended up getting tanks driven over them. People still, for some reason, hold a grudge over this.

So, while everyone else in Eastern Europe was pulling down statues of Uncle Joe, Lenin and Marxy, the Hungarians put them all in a park outside the city so tourists can take photos and feel ironic about it. This is worth doing, however it takes 2 busses way out of town into the bush, and the bus stop isn't well marked. I missed the stop and had to walk 3km back from the next one. Don't attempt this if you are perpetually hung over, it will only make you angry. However, the statue of the soviet soldier that used to stand over the city is worth the price of admission alone.

So, thanks to my own lack of attention to detail, I only realised yesterday I hadn't applied for a Romanian visa yet. I was already on a bit of a time crunch (I'm now looking at the 2nd or 3rd week of October to be in Istanbul), however I only managed to make it to the Romanian embassy this morning. I have to buy a ticket before I leave and print out my bank statement, plus give them 48 hours to process it. Thanks to the weekend, that would put me at next Wednesday at the earliest to be out of here on the morning train to Transylvania. This would them mean either crossing Bulgaria in a day or missing out some of the Middle East/Greece. At this point, I'm more inclined to write Romania and Bulgaria off and head south through Serbia again to Greece. This is a bit of an admital of defeat, and if I had gone to the embassy on Monday, it wouldn't have happened. A bit of a downer, but I'm sure I'll get a chance again one day.

So you don't get my Vlad the Impailer, Nikki Ceausescu or dogs in Bucharest anecdotes next time. You may get ones from Macedonia instead. I have a fresh page to fill and I'm not sure what's going to go on it just yet.

The other side of the argument


Budapest :: Hungary

At home with those nasty ol Serbs.

Places: Belgrade and Budapest

Coolest thing I did: Saw the place they laid Tito to rest.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: No one in Serbia Montenegro thought anyone would make fun of the new initials of their name.

Before I start, I recently dubbed Croatia the new Greece. Well from the afternoon I have just spent here, I've decided that Budapest is the new Prague. I will explain more later. Just know it's good, and has lifted my spirits somewhat after all that war talk.

So, despite everything that the Bosnians and Croats told me in Sarajevo, the Serbs don't look, talk or even act very differently to them. In order to go to Belgrade by bus you have to cross the border into the other part of Bosnia, Republic of Serbska which is the bit the Serbs got control over after the Dayton Agreement. From the outset, you notice that not much is different, except maybe that there was less aid money to rebuild it, so it's got a few more bombed out buildings. Try telling that to all the people who looked at me like I was insane when I decided to tell them m next stop was Belgrade.

Belgrade, after all this hype, is a bit of a let down. Despite Nato's best efforts in 1999, there are no scars of war visible in downtown Belgrade. The locals are understandably still a bit pissed off with the Yanks, but telling them you are Australian is more likely to get them to tell you stories of their cousin in Melbourne than have them spit on you. I didn't meet any Americans, so I don't know how they are treated, but all the talk at the bars didn't look good for them. Understandable when most people remember cruise missles blowing up their bridge to work a few years back. The bars, however, are another thing. The place is like any other European capital, however it's not real geared up for tourists. There are no hostels, very few tourist shops, and even buying postcards was a chore. I loved it.

The castle itself, it's a castle. Seen one, seen them all is how I'm feeling at the moment. What they do have is a military museum that has the added currency that it lives up to it's claim of having all of Yugoslavia's military history under one roof. The hunters rifles with KLA (Kosovo Liberation Army) carved on the butts and the peices of a downed US Stealth Fighter (which the Yanks claim to this day never was shot down) are pretty cool. Exhibits about WW2 are one thing, but I can relate so much more to things I remember seeing on the news.

I was told to avoid politics as a conversation topic, but this is only true if you aren't willing to hear both sides of the story. Let's start with the whole breakup of Yugoslavia thing. The way the Serbs see it, both sides had a hand in ethnic cleansing in both Croatia and Bosnia, however they don't point out the non-Serb ones were mostly revenge killings. As Yugoslavia was a soverign country, the UN stayed out of it's affairs. The Serbs point out none of the independance referendums were legal, even if they pointed out the will of the people. I still agree with the use of force by the UN to break up conflicts, but with all sides chomping at the bit to have another go at each other, I think the region could be in for more turmoil when the Nato troops finally leave.

I saw 2 graves when I was there. The first was of a bloke called Tsar Stephen Dusan (lets call him Steve). Steve is laid to rest in a Serbian Orthodox Catheral that is supported by 4 giant granite pillars. This is more impressive than it sounds. You'll just have to belive me until you all go to Serbia. Steve was an important bloke in Serbian history, because he lost the country to the Turks. Thats right, lost. At the battle of Kosavar Polje (which is part of the problem that sparked the last war in 1999) the Turks routed Steve's troops and ushered in 400 years of rule from Constantinople, starting in the 14th century. Aussies and Kiwis can think of it as kind of like the Serbian Anzac day.

The other bloke was Tito, who was the friendly dictator who both led the Partisan army that fought the Germans in WWII in Yugoslavia, but ran the Socialist Yugo for nearly 40 years. At the beginning of WW2, the Germans managed to set up a facist puppet state in Croatia and set the local facists loose on the Jews and Roma. They took things one step further and decided the Serbs should be sent to the camps too. This steeled up resistance from all the peoples of Yugoslavia and allowed the Partisan army, led by the communists of Tito's party, to become one of the fierces underground movements in the whole war.

After the war, Tito became head of state of the new Yugoslavia and held the country together for the rest of his life. This was no mean feat, and he used both a hybrid free marked socialist system (dont ask me to explain how that works) and a pandering to all the various minorities in the country to keep it all working smoothly. After his death, it became clear his policy of soliciting aid and loans by being friendly commies (they split with Stalin in 1948) would no longer work and the financial crisis that followed still haunts the former Yugoslav republics today.

As a testament to the man, he now resides in a guarded white marble mausoleum looking out over the city. Compare this to Romanias meglomaniac, who they shot and dumped in a ditch somewhere. A tip, dont try and walk there. It takes ages. Bloody Lonely Planet maps.

Post Tito is when the problems started. Another place I saw was the Serbian Academy of Sciences. These guys decided in 1986 to publish a paper saying the best way to hold Yugoslavia together would be to promote Serbian nationalism. Clap, Clap. Milosovic took this up as his cause when he came to head the Communist party in Serbia, and the rest is violent, bloody history. While Big Milo is at the Hague, his wife still resides in the official residence of Tito (which he never lived in) right next to his grave.

So, after nearly four weeks, my tour of Yugoslavia ends. I'm considering going to Macedonia, with a possible day trip into Kosovo later on, due mostly to the fact that one of my oldes mates is a Macedonian living in Sydney. When we were 10 he introduced me to the concept that Yugoslavia was a country set on it's own destructive course by telling me the nationalistic ideas his Dad had told him. I made the mistake of telling him Macedonia was in Greece (well, it partially is) and over the following years of high school, I took more notice of the conflict in the Balkans than I otherwise would, with his Dad chaneling opinions to us via him. This also introduced me to the crux of the problem. Everyone agrees that all the former Yugoslav lands should be demarked by historical borders, just no one can agree on the date. With so many empires, including Greek and Bulgarian ones, moving back and forth over the Balkans in the last 2000 years, everyone tends to pick the height of their empire as the grounds for their current land claims. With that in mind, compromise is the only solution. Try telling the locals that.

One last note. The Name. In what must be the worst editing decision since Osama Bin Ladens boys put blameless Norway on it's list of infidel countries that must be destroyed (I can see OBL raging around the cave yelling "Denmark you falafel for brains, not Norway!), no one noticed that the initials of the country are now S and M. Giggle. They should have gone with M and S. At least we could have only made underwear jokes, instead of ones involving horse whips.

On that, Im off to see what Budapest serves up as a Saturday night.