Salaam

The town of Baalbek is the site of the incredible Roman temple complex of Heliopolis, which includes the largest existing Roman columns in the world (an therefore an obvious must-see by my criteria of sight-seeing!). The region is also in the heartland of the Hezbollah group, and once again the immediacy of the conflict with Israel was strongly apparent. The straight highway approaching the site through the Bekaa Valley was lined with images of the Hezbollah fighters lost in the conflict, and also large roadside advertising dedicated to glorifying their struggle and achievements - and finally a propaganda tent set up at the entrance to the site itself held further information on the Hezbollah position as well as personal belongings of the men and boys killed in the conflict.

Once inside the temple site however, the outside world and it's current round of troubles seems to fade. Here was stone that had been in place through over two millenia, and had seen dozens, hundreds of problems like it, and will doubtless see hundreds more. The only thing to break the solemn peace of the ruins is the occasional fly-over of a patrolling helicopter, but even that could not distract from this monumental complex - a brilliant final taste of Lebanon and the Middle East, a part of the world I cannot wait to return to, and that I hope will find itself in an increasingly peaceful state over the coming years.

Rosaries in the sunset

Take a hike on the holy side

Wadi Qadisha (the Holy Valley) is one of the most sacred parts of Lebanon to the Maronite Christian faith. With one of the last remaining copses of Lebanese Cedars near it's head, and a promising day's-worth of hiking through gorgeous mountain terrain, we expected a great day. It was not without it's surprises. Having wandered through the ancient and majestic cedar trees, we were dropped at the village at the very top of Wadi Qadisha, Bsharri. Relying on some fairly loose directions from a guide book, we then proceeded to plunge down the steep steps through the village and out the other side onto what degraded very quickly into little more than a goat path - something which became a theme as the day went on.

Picking our way down, with several enforced back-tracks, we made the first monastery, carved out of the rock wall of the gorge. These places of isolation were selected not only for their conduciveness to monkish activities such as prayer and meditation, but also due to their inaccecessibility for enemies - at the time of their foundation, the Maronite monks belonged to a branch of Christianity persecuted by their powerful Byzantines neighbours. What remains are incredible, and still operational, remnants of a fascinating period of time - here a small of Christianity aligned with the far-off Catholic church survived in a region where it was not only unwelcome to other Christian faiths, but soon became completely dominated by Islam.

What we hadn't taken into account was that the day we had chosen to make this hike was the Assumption of the Virgin (celebrating Mary's elevation to the Top Floor) - one of the holiest days of the year to the Maronite faithful. So with extra-special-uncomfortable-tourist-respect we continued on our way through this amazing outdoor gallery of Middle Eastern christianity, down onto the valley floor to continue our hike to our eventual destination, the Monastery Saint Anthony de Qozhaya.

The valley floor is accessible by car, and we were therefore presented with a much clearer route for us to follow. It was also quite busy with Lebanese families taking time over the holiday (in the literal sense of the word) to spend with each other picnicking or lunching at one of the lovely riverside restaurants. When we stopped at one of these for lunch and took a table in one corner of the deck overlooking the valley below, it was politely pointed out to us that we had taken a table reserved for family celebration - two cheerful banquet-table loads of whom were next to us. The staff needn't have bothered requesting us to move in the end, as within 30 minutes we had been absorbed into the family's celebrations - on the invitation of a matriarchal grandmother, who was clearly the oldest there, and even more clearly the life and soul of the party. An hour or so of Lebanese dancing and chatting in bad French later (well, mine was bad - the other members of the party were native speakers, and French is the second language of Lebanon) we exchanged farewells and continued on our way - amazed at our good luck in finding what had been one of the absolute highlights of the whole trip.

The final leg of the trip proved the most challenging - deteriorating paths meant that we had to forge our own at times, sometimes virtually climbing vertically to pass certain areas, and often pushing through thorns to go forward. Becoming increasingly unsure of our location and selection of route, we finally made it to a village - via the chicken coop at the rear - to find, upon asking a local for directions, something I was certainly not expecting. Having attempted French and not knowing much Arabic, I began to despair at finding out the route onwards to the Monastery - until on in desperation trying to ask in English I received an answer in a broad Lebanese-Australian accent! "Aw mate, yeah, for sure I know the way - it's just down that way, round to the right, 30 minutes easy" - as it turns out his cousin lived in Sydney, and he'd spent 6 months there learning English, in possibly one of the most specific and instantly recognisable mini-dialects there is.

With one member of the party flagging badly with stomach problems, we managed to make it (I think the accent was not the only thing our friend had picked up in Australia - the time required had been understaded in a typically Aussie way, as we made it there a good hour later over some very rough terrain), to be greeted by the magnificent site of the monastery bathed in the glow of the lowering sun. As we arrived, so were hordes of Lebanese Christians, dressed in their finest, for the official observation of the holiday - and, after having had a look around, we left them to it and returned, exhausted and satisfied, to the coast.

Lebanon

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had never been so close to a country with an active war zone - well, here I was in one. Lebanon's recent history has been a very difficult one, and the recent conflict between Israel and the Hezbollah group has left it reeling in many ways. The first evidence of the impact of the war was the fact that we were forced to take a fairly circuitous route down to the coast, as bridges on the Damascus-Beirut motorway had been targeted by Israeli air operations. We drove under one of these, with tangled steel protruding from the shattered concrete. Checkpoints throughout the journey, usually including an armoured vehicle or two (another first for me) were further signs of the state in which the country existed.

However, that which truly drove home the impact of these events for me was reaching Beirut itself. Planning on going out for a night out in the "Paris of the Middle East", we were shocked to find the entire central business district deserted at 8:00 PM. Café-lined streets, along which, Mo told us, it is usually impossible to find a seat, were only accessible via armed blockades. While we could enter, it was clear that a curfew had been set due to political unrest. Just outside the city centre, the base camp of the protesters (many homeless due to the war in the south) was the most lively spot in the area. This was a truly eerie experience, and a glimpse into a world to which I have had very little exposure.

Much of which I saw in Lebanon was far more heartening. Trips to beautiful seaside towns and gorgeous mountain national parks (where the last of the Cedars of Lebanon, pictured above and featuring on the national flag, cling to existence) had us seeing a country where people know how to enjoy life, and are always eager to welcome strangers in to enjoy it with them. Here is a place that has a huge amount going for it, and I feel quite privaleged to have experienced it while so many others are avoiding what is essentially a safe (as long as you exercise common sense in staying away from dangerous areas and being sensitive to the problems in the region) and hugely appealing country and people.

Watch out, they spit

Was it early?

Yup.

This shot, taken of the desert near Palmyra as we waited for ruins to be lit up by the sun, for some reason brought to mind some of the imagery that has come from the region during the Gulf Wars. I can imagine oil wells burning on this landscape, and that the dust cloud is being thrown up by the wheels of a patrolling Humvee.

This was the closest I have been to country which is effectively an active warzone - less than a couple of hundred kilometres from the border. It was a sobering thought, and having seen the bustling life of Damascus, to which the Baghdad of 20 years ago was a match, it is hard not to be reminded of the part played by my culture in the devastation of such an important and historic part of the world. May it recover soon and become a thriving part of this lovely region once more.

Crossroads

The tetrapylon in the centre of Palmyra represents more than just the hub of this once-grand oasis city - as the major trading post of the region, this would have represented the centre of local human activity for hundreds of years. It's hard to imagine the feeling of relief that must have been felt by the caravaneers upon entering the city and following the cobbled street past this grand square on their way to pay tribute to the gods for their safe passage.

Columnation

The central colonnade of Palmyra is truly incredible - and originally would have stood with a double level of columns the whole length. Now it is mainly only the first level that remains - but in such an amazing state of preservation that it easier here than almost any other roman ruin I've visited to imagine how it once looked, with stalls lining the street and carts wearing grooves in the cobbles.

Just deserts

Sometimes the most uncomfortable moments produce the most rewarding - fighting off a dodgy belly, due to some incautious choices of cuisine, to rise at 4 AM and catch a taxi to the top of the mountain above Palmyra was one of these. Below us spread the incredible vista of the site of the Roman city, one of the largest archaeological sites in the world, glowing in the sunrise. To the west, cradled in dunes, stood the tower tombs, holding generations of families in their mysterious walls.

It's moments like these that makes lugging around stupidly heavy gear, and looking like a complete tourist, seem all worthwhile.

A fine Krak

T.E. Lawrence called it the "the most wholly admirable castle in the world", David Attenborough wandered through it expounding with his customary enthusiasm and british-ness on the virtues of it's defenses - and now it's my turn (who knows, if I do it well enough, maybe I'll be offered a knighthood too??)

The Krak des Cheveliers was the largest of the Crusader fortresses, manned in it's heyday by up to 2000 Knights Hospitaller (still about and led by what other than a Grand Master Friar) and never breached by hostile means. Now, it is the most amazing place to get lost in. Armed with a torch and an uncontrollable desire to see every nook and cranny (born I'm sure from my fascination with Lego castles as a pup), I spent hours exploring this incredible relic of medieval European conquest.


From the huge stables built into the outer walls to the massive keep, from dank and dungeon-like underground passages to Turkish baths (a later addition), the Krak is an astounding feat of engineering, executed by an expeditionary force effectively a world away from the homes they had left. This was an integral part of the kingdom carved out of the holy land by the invaders, and built on a scale I've seen nowhere else - driven by necessity for sustained periods of isolation from aid while surrounded by hostile armies and nations.

All in all, just the thing to keep a boy out of trouble for half a day!

Garden of Eden

Well, I figure if it was anywhere, it was around these parts...

Water pipes

Full circle

It was in Hama that I started having flashbacks to a David Attenborough documentary on the history of the human race and their interaction with their environment in this cradle of civilisation that is the Middle East. The huge water wheels of Hama was one of the striking images from the series that summoned memories from almost two decades ago, through the rather blurry filter that my long-term cerebral storage facility is blessed with. If only they made memory cards for your brain...

At any rate, the wheels are incredible - having a brilliant lunch of mixed mezzes in an open air restaurant by the river with two of these 14th century monsters groaning as they gracefully (and noisily) revolved I think goes down as one of the best meals of the trip.

Au revoir Damas

I'll leave Damascus with one last image, that of the interior of one of the great souks (markets). If the mosque is the heart of the old city, these are the veins along which flows the lifeblood of the city. Perhaps a little dramatic, but it's hard not to wax poetic about a place like this.

The holes in the roof, through which shafts of light stream down onto cloth sellers and spice stalls, are bullet holes, marks of the troubled history of the place. The souks themselves are divided into different areas according to the goods being sold, in the kind of ordered chaos which seems bewildering at first - until you commit yourself to getting totally lost amongst it, when simply becomes wondrous.

My memories of Damascus are extraordinarily vivid, even though half the time I spent there was in the throes of food poisoning ("Bedu Belly"). Of all the places visited during this trip, it's Damascus that has the greatest pull to return and see again - it's not a case of whether I'll be back, it's one of when.

Streets of Damas

Damascus is a city of hidden wonders - a street such as that above can hold any number of unexpected delights. Behind the bland appearance of many of the streets lie workshops (khans) and coffee houses (ahawi), turkish baths and mosques. The coffee house below is typical - a gorgeous courtyard, open to the elements except for a cloth sail which can be pulled over the block the mid day sun, full of locals and visitors - all enjoying strong black coffee or sweetened tea, perhaps with an argileh pipe, over which is dissected the day's finds and bargaining in the souks.

Arabian nights

While Damascus is a city with a huge amount of history, it is also a modern capital, and outside the old town is reminiscent of many others. The traffic through the roundabout, seen from the hill above the city (see reverse shot up the hill from our hotel below), is constant and completely manic - the road rules being something along the lines of "first in, best dressed".

Traffic regulations in general, or rather the observation of them, are what could be called relaxed (if you would agree that driving the wrong way down motorways is a reasonably casual approach). But as seems to be the case in so many countries with such driving habits, everyone seems a lot more relaxed towards one another on the road, despite the chaos - I'd wager the issue of road rage certainly hasn't made headlines in the Damascene dailies.

Artometric

To me, the beauty of Arabic art is in it's simplicity, and often in it's mystery - I have no idea what this was, standing in the courtyard of the Ummayad Mosque. Some kind of sun dial, the pattern of shadows it casts telling you the exact number of seconds until Ramadan (I'm SURE it's possible)? A medieval lightning rod?

Whatever it may be, I'm a huge convert to the Arabic manner of using geometry and pattern in the creation of art, which contrasts with the much less abstract representations typical of so many other cultures, particularly that most dominant one of the west. I'm not sure if Islamic law expressly forbids the depiction of individuals in religious artwork, but the mosques and palaces I visited are entirely, and refreshingly, free of any sort of portraiture or realism in their decorations. The only slight exception was the use of trees in the detail of facades, providing that brilliant combination of green and gold prevalent all over the muslim world.

Damascus!

Even the name sounds full of mystery and the promise of hidden beauty - and this is what Damascus is all about. The city has a very legitimate claim (as legitimate as it can be with so much history involved) to being the oldest constantly-inhabited in the world, and wears it in an amazing blend of the ancient and modern.

The Ummayad Mosque typifies all that is Damascene, and a lot of that which is Arabic - an austere, almost plain exterior counter-balanced by incredible internal elegance and beauty. The courtyard and interior of the mosque is exquisitely calm after the bustle of the souqs outside; a further contrast I couldn't help noticing is that between this place and those other great edifices of religion, the great cathedrals of Europe. While a cathedral is built to impress and almost awe it's visitor with it's solemnity, elaborateness and an almost oppressive quiet, this mosque, while exhibiting all the splendour, felt far more like a community gathering place. No altar, no seating, no specific pieces of art or iconry, and no pulpit from which an individual exerts their influence over the faithful.

No - here is a very public place to which people come for very private reasons. No-one seems unwelcome, despite the many different reasons they are there, and the sense of awe is arrived at through the subtle beauty and geometry of the building and the designs which adorn it.

Well I say no-one is unwelcome... However I think perhaps this woman could have been more impressed by my choice of camera angles. I think she has a point, I probably should have taken more care with making the lines of the mosque intersect with the frame corners a bit better. And that tower does look a bit wonky.

Black and blue

Umm Qais is an amazing place to visit - built on another stunningly preserved Roman town, Gadara. It was here, according to biblical legend, that a herd of swine ran into the Sea of Galilee, having had the demons named "Legion" transferred into their unfortunate piggy brains by an apparant miracle. I'm not sure the pigs would have entirely agreed with that particular classification of the event.

At any rate, you can see from this town the most incredible and literal vista of ancient and modern politics possibly anywhere in the world. From this hill you can look out across the sea around and upon which the most influential individual the world has known (ok, apart from Oprah) walked. Standing in Jordan, on your left lies Israel, on the right tower the Golan Heights, the Israeli-occupied buffer zone which is the focus of the ongoing war between that state and Syria.

Quite oblivious to all of this, the old city made of the marvellous local black stone lies, one of the most striking Roman relics of the region I've seen, as it has for thousands of years. Having existed through many such disputes, and even a few debatable miracles, it's kind of reassuring to know that whatever happens here over this century, places of immense tranquility such as this will exist here - a testament to the incredible tale that is human history, and a reminder that our problems today will one day be just another chapter.

Ah, the serenity

In the hills behind Petra, site of the "monastery" tomb seen a few posts ago, this was an unexpected marvel - a magnificent view over Wadi Haroun (Aaron Valley, so named for Moses' brother who is said to lie buried somewhere in the wasteland).

Note the lack of crowds - this is about as big a group of people as we saw around Petra.

Almost anywhere else in the world, such an incredible site as Petra would be overrun with hordes of sightseers; at the time we visited, we were lucky enough to share it with only several hundred, who were easily swallowed by this immense place. This was something of a theme of our trip; undoubtedly some of the most spectacular and interesting natural, social and historical locations I’ve visited, with none of the usual flood of westerners. This is thanks to the perceived instability and inaccessibility of the region; which I’m not here to dispel. Don’t visit. It’s mine.

Cruise ships of the desert

I'm a massive camel fan (great smelling, great sounding and wonderful temperament, who wouldn't be??), but couldn't bring myself to take a ride with the cameleers at Petra. Something about being constantly pestered makes me even less willing to try it out; I think I'd be far more inclined on my next trip to take a full day camel trek rather than try out the camel thing on a 500 metre strip of well-trodden strip of sand.

Marvellous looking beggers though.

The other other wonder

Petra is considered the site to see in all of Jordan, if not the entire Middle Eastern region. Having recently been voted into the new 7 Wonders of the World, it certainly was high on the to-do list.

We saved it for lucky last while in Jordan, and I have to admit myself absolutely dumbfounded by the place. This is one of those rare places in the world that enjoy the combination of astounding natural environment with beautiful human architecture - and how. The 30 minute walk down the Siq (of Indiana Jones fame), the natural cleft through which those wishing to enter to the city must pass, is an exhibition of amazing geological formations. Into this is carved the evidence of the ancient people, the Nabatians, who made it home, and indeed, in it's prime, one of the most important trading posts in this part of the world.

The site at the end of this gallery of wonders almost belies belief - it certainly belies photography. Whatever I managed to capture couldn't do this incredible old city justice; if for no other reason that imagination can't be applied to a photograph at anything like the level it needs to be to see the truly stupendous nature of this place.

Dead fun

The Dead Sea is as much fun as it looks - and this incredibly warm, bizarrely situated (400 metres below sea level in the middle of an arid desert) is impossible to leave until the salt in the water starts to make you start to sting all over. The presence of US-style resorts here that wouldn't seem out of place in a Hollywood depiction of Miami is strangely at odds with the locals; many of the women retain their body-covering garb while sitting by the pool or paddling in the water down at the beach. Another example of the strange collision of "East" and "West" in the region, but one that seemed to be a hit, as what would otherwise be a very unwelcoming place has become quite a destination for local families and travellers alike.

Enlightening

Once in while, you come across someone who makes what could otherwise have been just another site (while that doesn't really do justice to the brilliance of the sites we saw every day here) into something amazing.

So it was with Ibrahim Smadi, our tour guide at Ajloun Castle, a Saladin-era castle in the north of Jordan. Ibrahim's tour, and the stories he had to share of his time working on archaelogical sites around the region, absolutely brought the place to life. He looked every bit of the retired archaelogical adventurer; a local Indiana Jones now content to take over-enthusiastic visitors through the passages and the past of this beautiful old place.

In the large banquet hall, a brilliant beam of light came in through an old chimney-hole; in the situation, I couldn't resist doing something I've never done before - I asked someone to pose (I hate that word...) for a photo. Ibrahim obliged, and I like to think I captured something of him and the place which will always remind me his amazing tales.

Keystone

The mark of the Order of St John of Jerusalem on a archway standing in the ruins of one of the desert castles we visited. Things like this definitely serve to remind you exactly how much has happened in this region, and how much it has meant to so many. It's pretty easy to forget when you are poking around ruins that these places were once homes and battlegrounds, in which men lived, fought and died a long, long way from their families and birthplaces.

Off the beaten track

The freedom granted by a car and the fact that we had no pressing schedule while in Jordan meant that we did quite a lot of random driving through the desert, in the vague hope that we'd stumble across the desert castles we knew had been left scattered around the region by the various powers that had at one point or another held a serious enough interest in this strip of sand to leave something for curious spirits to poke around in centuries (if not millenia) later.

The fairly casual relationship the Arabic nations seem to have with signage, and geography in general, didn't help; but it did give us an excuse to follow our noses and find all sorts of things (some of which looked like they were from the set of Mad Max...)