Cote D'Azur De Cham Lattakia

Destination 391<br><br>km193'409<br><br>Claudio and me have left Damascus behind us and took a very convenient exit: the lookout on top of the neighbouring mountain.<br>From there we traveled a unusual far distance of many hundred kilometres up north, where we just recognized a major change in the landscape: The dusty desert sand-and-stone environment has made place to a mediteranean-like countryside with grassy ...

... I was! My first encounter of random invitations! Soon after the coach left, Hakim turned to me and informed me I could stay in his friends apartment for free, for as long as I wanted. My guard was up as soon as I walked into the apartment. I never knew how this was possible. Ok, so I have a kitchen, sit-down toilet, hot shower and a bed to sleep in but...what's the catch? Hakim pointed out that the chicken shop down on the corner was good with chicken sandwiches and by golly was ...

... so had to transfer onto minibus number 3 in some random place. <br><br>As were drove the landscape was becoming increasingly greener, there were olive trees and fruit trees sprouting out of the dry earth and we could feel the coast was near. We arrived at a massive minibus station in Tartus, fortunately the a lovely local guy, who had been helping us along the way, put us on a minibus number 4 to Latakia. It was absolutely packed to the brim and I could feel sweat ...

... are quite nice as well. I am exhausted so I spent half of the journey sleeping. When I get to Lattakia it rains. As a good backpacker, I decide not to take a taxi and cover on foot the distance between the train station and the hotel. When I finally get there (after few panic moments due to 1/ my lack of orientations and 2/ the lack of street panels that make orientation impossible), I am totally wet. With such weather conditions, the visit to Saladin castles is ...

... fitting blue jeans.  Suddenly the last four days didn't seem so bad - I felt like I had just visited a Syrian Fat Farm.  It would usually take me a few months to lose this much weight.  I looked in the mirror and noticed how gaunt I looked and figured I had better get out of there before I gave Kate Moss a run for her money.<br>I lugged my suitcase down to the lobby to check out of the hotel and try to catch a bus to Beirut, thinking if I did not ...

... it hoping she would help me. She spoke no English so in my best attempt at charades, I acted out my last 12 hours before becoming to weak and having to lay back down. The lady said something to me in Arabic, grabbed her pale and proceeded to clean my floors and wash my windows then left. That was not quite what I had in mind. A few more hours passed and I was getting no better and now I was ...

... many other free, larger tables. Anyhow, it was a good opportunity to talk with them and I asked lots of questions about the differences in the culture here as compared to the rest of the Middle East. As interesting as that was, I must admit that it was nice to just be able to talk to some women for a change! I've come to the realization that, although women are trouble most of the time ;-), it's quite a lonely ...

Hvis Beirut er Mellemoestens Paris, saa maa Lattakia vaere Syeriens Beirut... Dejligt igen at vaere i noget der minder om Vesteuropa. Kvinderne gaar klaedt som de vil, og boernene raaber ikke laengere efter os... Har besoegt den foerste korsridderborg - meget spaendende, fantastisk beliggenhed og god bevarelsesgrad - selv Hanne ...

Lataqia, Syria 2 1/2 hours south of Antakya, Turkiye. July 15th. No internet in the entire town of Tartous where we came from where we met Shanklish, the aged cheese of cheeses, the king of all edible (edible?) molds and far beyond anything the French could dream of; we have met it and come to the moment of truth (borrowing our hotel owner's term for the moment before you put shanklish in your mouth). It is intense. So much so that one ...

... weeks with her on the mountain in Kingston, Arkansas. Sometimes we would help get the garden going by planting potatoes - yes, we were slave labor but we loved every minute of it. We (the kids) would go on long walks up the mountain and bring back fistfuls of flowers (read: weeds) that Granny would proudly put in a vase in the center of the dinner table. She'd then have to go about doctoring our scrapes, cuts, tick bites and stings. <br><br>She'd load us up in the ...