“A New Beginning”

Why we love him: 

 

 

Al Jazeera

Our visit to Al Jazeera’s headquarters was spectacular. All of my journalism experience has been in television, so this trip above all was particularly special.

Having some experience with Al Jazeera in the states has given me a brief background on how the network was founded, the different issues they’ve struggled with over the years and how they operate as a whole.  Their motto being “The opinion and the other opinion” has enlightened countries in the Middle East on pressing issues that they are faced with everyday.

Our tour guide, Muhammad Hibatuallah, talked about the different obstacles Al Jazeera has had to overcome since first airing in 1996. This television breakthrough evolved from BBC’s shut down of their Arab Television Service, which at the time was the only independent voice for the Arab World. Now, Al Jazeera reaches 130 million households and broadcasts to more than 100 countries.  

Unfortunately, the Bush Administration stamped Al Jazeera as a network for terrorist organizations, thus banning the network from U.S. cable channels. What the Administration didn’t tell you is that the U.S. bombed several Al Jazeera bureaus within recent years, killing two journalists. To this day, Al Jazeera continues to push for free media in their own region while also fighting negative stereotypes overseas.

Al Jazeera is Doha-based, but has many different outlets throughout the regions including Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, and as of July 1^st, The United States. Bravo Mr. Obama.

Rebooting!

Landed in Doha, Qatar late Monday night. Nobody knew what to expect. My first sign of knowing I would enjoy this country came after visiting the women’s bathroom in the airport, which was fully equipped with toilette paper AND paper towels!

(Note: Up until this point, paper towels HAVE NOT existed in the Middle East. You are expected to either let your hands dry freely or use Kleenex, which usually ends up breaking–leaving you with little bits of wet residue that you then have to pick off and dispose of manually. Clearly, this is a very sensitive topic for me. I just don’t understand their theory behind Kleenex tissues.) Moving on.

I feel like I have been talking a lot about hotels in my past blogs, but there is absolutely no way I can go without mentioning our hotel in Doha. It is incredible!

Granted, the city is an accumulation of luxury high-rise buildings and big, fancy hotels that lack any architectural cohesiveness, but hey, I’ll take it.

The 26^th floor has become my new best friend. Equipped with a gym, sauna, steam, Jacuzzi, and pool, this hotel was the answer to all of my prayers. Not to sound high maintenance, but you spend a month traveling through the Middle East with 30 people and you’ll know what I’m talking about. Incidentally, my journey continues on for two more weeks while the majority of the students fly home on Thursday.

Doha, thank you. I needed this.

Ba’ath Party, anyone?

I will keep this short and sweet—the Damascus 800-year old Hammas Bathhouse is one of the more interesting activities I’ve taken part in on this trip. I don’t think one person left the “Baath Party” feeling clean; it was more the other way around. One of my favorite quotes came from Sean when asked by another student how he enjoyed the Bathhouse:

“You didn’t miss out on anything. They boil toilet water and call it a sauna, not to mention, the loofahs they used look like they came from some blonde girl’s weave.”

 At least the bananas were good?

Road trips through Syria

Our five-hour road trip to Aleppo, a city just North of Damascus, made for an interesting experience.  Before leaving Damascus, Osama, our trusty tour guide, made sure the bus was stocked with the daily necessities: bananas, oranges, water, weird Pistachio candy, and movies (some of which were up for debate).

Our first stop was Maaloula, a village that continues to speak Aramaic, the same language as Jesus. Aramaic is considered to be the oldest language in the world and is what Hebrew and Arabic originated from. The little, rural town of Maaloula was embedded into the mountainside. Osama had decided that we were to hike down, through the crevasses and between boulders, to one of the lookout points. The sleepy village was beautiful, but there wasn’t much to see other than St. Serge’s church. We loaded back onto the buses.

Second stop. Krak Des Chevalier, a magnificent stone castle with steep walls, windy staircases, a moat, look out tower, bridges and tons of vacant rooms to explore—every boy’s dream. We spent the rest of the day at Le Krak, exploring many musty passages and dark caves. I don’t know how many times I wished I had a flashlight! It was also nice to relax at the top of the castle, which overlooked most of Syria’s countryside and Lebanon’s snowcapped mountains. I debated hitch hiking or even paragliding to Beirut, but yet again, chickened out. So much for “New York Time’s: Best City to visit in 2009” award.

My sadness was quickly displaced by happiness as soon as I saw our hotel in Le Krak. Sam and I either have the best roommate luck, if there is such a thing, or we were accidentally given Professor Sullivan’s honeymoon suite. The room was your average hotel double—two twin beds, one television, a mini-bar. What blew our expectations out of the water was the size of our balcony, which overlooked the Krak Des Chevalier castle and pool.

Almost immediately, we knew what we had to do.

Thirty minutes later, the majority of our group was on our balcony—cocktails in hand. It wasn’t long until the dance parties broke out, thanks to Caitlyn, Sean and the incredible Britney Spears. The party lasted until the wee-hours of the night. In fact, Sam and I turned off the lights to our room and went to bed before people decided to clear out. What a great night.

The Golan

Israel invaded the Syrian province of Golan Heights in June of 1967 out of religious principles derived from the Torah. The invasion, lasting for seven years, resulted in the Israeli occupation of Golan Heights and the displacement of 130,000 Syrians. The Israeli occupation was never intended to be permanent, rather, the direct solution hinged on the signing of a new truce agreement between Syria and Israel. The occupation has now lasted for decades.

Efforts have been made by the international community to combat Israel’s strong, unyielding presence in Golan. Seven months prior to the United Nation’s 1974 armistice agreement, Syria liberated Quneitra, the capital of Golan. Before returning the land Israeli forces demolished and defaced the lush, agricultural village of Quneitra.

All that is left of Golan are the remains of several decimated buildings, canvassed with bullet holes and graffiti. The broken buildings serve as a constant reminder of the Israeli force and illegal occupation of the Golan.

“This governate has been suffering a lot because of Israeli aggression,” said Dr. Rihad Hejab, Mayor of the Quneitra province.

Nearly forty years later, the remaining region of Golan Heights continues to be occupied by Israel. Today, 33 settlements are homes to the 30,000 Syrians living under occupation.

Excerpt taken from Golan Heights Photo Essay (for full article see the main page)

Insights: Damascus, Syria

Now that I’ve managed to break away from e-mails, online checking and flights home (Woohoo) I will take this rare opportunity of FREE internet access and write for all of you.

By the way, thanks to those who have been commenting on my blog-it’s great to get feedback and I enjoy hearing from you! 

Here we go…

Day One:

Syria, Syria, Syria…where do I start. I never in my life thought I would step foot onto Syrian soil. I think I can speak for most Americans when I say that I knew very little about this country before coming here, all political issues aside. 

The first thing I noticed after stepping off the plane was the green grass and palm trees! After spending nearly a week in busily Cairo, these agricultural images were very exciting to see. Our drive through the outskirts of Damascus was just as beautiful and lush as my first spotting had indicated. Unlike Cairo, Syria was hilly and had a different kind of terrain. I would stretch it as far to say that it resembled Tuscany, Italy, but only slightly.

Regardless, I think I can speak for everyone when I say Syria is a beautiful country and that we were all very happy to be here.

We arrived at our hotel to find that the next few days were loaded with activities. These activities included meeting with ministers, spokesmen and other foreign officials, dialogues and mixers with the students of Damascus University, and of course, a day dedicated to museums, markets, and mosques. We were also informed that we would be taking a two-day road trip to Aleppo, Syria.

Sam and I entered our room and attempted to unpack, but had been distracted by the hallway “Swimming Pool” sign, which directed us down the hall. I will admit that it took us a few moments to realize that the pool was not on the fifth floor, like we had expected, but down five flights of stairs—kind of a disappointing blonde moment for both of us. Needless to say, we were happy to see that a pool did in fact exist, and from that moment on, we were determined to squeeze a few extra tanning hours into our already hectic schedule.

Day Two:

National museum—we learned about all the different kinds of culture, ethnicities, religion, language, and traditions that at one point were found in Syria. Six different countries border the country of Syria: Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel, Iraq, and Turkey, which makes sense of why the country is so diverse. We checked out the first alphabet to ever appear in the world—containing 29 letters.

Back on the bus, a few of us plotted the perfect sneak away trip to Beirut. We discussed with Osama—our tour guide—how to acquire a 24-hour visa and driver who was willing to smuggle a few students to and from Lebanon. However, out of fear of being thrown out of the university, our amazing plan was never executed.

Omayyad Mosque—My favorite of all the mosques, and trust me, we have seen a lot! The vibrant colors and mosaic tiling filled the ceiling and gaps between the archways. Despite the pre-worn green robes we were forced to wear and a bird dropping a load on my arm (which at the time then made me thankful for the terribly smelly, second-hand Muslim garb) I thoroughly enjoyed this mosque. We even had the opportunity to sit through a call-to-prayer, where members of the community gather to pray, or do yoga, however you want to imagine it.

Azem Palace—This beautiful palace was built only steps away from the Mosque. At one point it housed the royal family of Damascus, but on this particular day, the palace provided a peaceful garden area for Northeastern students to relax, read, chitchat, and sun bathe. 

Damascus Market—Again, my favorite of all the markets, and trust me, we have seen a lot! What made this market different from the rest was that for one, the roof was tented, so air could blow freely throughout. Secondly, everything was so cheap! And lastly, we could walk on our own without being constantly heckled by merchants.

We spent the remainder of our day at the market to eat and shop. We found a shady area on the steps of an antique store and had lunch: Shwarma and one cold can of Orange Fanta that I had bought for a total of…oh, 75 cents. For some who are not familiar with Middle Eastern food, Shwarma is a grilled chicken, pickles and mayo Panini-wrap—I know it sounds disgusting, but trust me, it’s unbelievable!

Now, for my favorite part of the day…

After lunch, Colby, Caitlyn and I searched for Arabic ice cream, which we had heard so much about. It wasn’t hard to find, considering it was the busiest shop in the market—jammed packed with locals and baby strollers. When it was finally my turn, I ordered one vanilla ice cream dipped in pistachios. The man gave me a funny look, asked me where I was from and preceded to hand me my change along with a white poker-chip, which I assumed I had to pass along to the next man. Quite the ordeal for one ice cream cone, but I will tell you right now, it was worth it. Arabic ice cream beats the hell out of Gelato, hands down. In fact it was so good, we made it a priority to return the next day for seconds.  

Day Three:

Day three consisted of lots and lots and lots of meetings. Some were interesting, others not so much. We first met with Abd Fattah Amor, the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, or “his Excellency” if you prefer.

We discussed politics, security—both foreign and domestic, international conflict, terrorism, the United States’ role in today’s world, and journalism. Mr. Amor was a very bright man, having studied Mass Media Communication and Foreign Affairs at Oxford University. He recognized the instability and destruction Syria’s neighboring countries, particularly Israel, were causing and the implications these countries will have on Syria and the rest of the world if issues are not resolved within time.

Things to consider.

Mr. Amor discussed the importance of journalism and the lack of journalistic quality from all counterparts involved in the media’s coverage of the Middle East. What struck me by surprise is that he was morally opposed to Western journalism standards and accused the U.S. media for fueling the fire between Eastern and Western countries.

This gave me an interesting perspective on mass media as a whole and what IS credible, moral and responsible journalism. What is considered to be ethical journalism in the Middle East? In a region that is so incredibly divided—culturally, religiously, traditionally–who’s to say what’s credible and what isn’t?

Things to consider.

Although Mr. Amor and I may not agree on everything, I did enjoy hearing his perception of it all. Walking away from the meeting, there is one thing Mr. Amor said that I would always remember: “Tell me what you read, and I will tell you who you are.”

Again, things to consider.

Day three ended and we were all feeling pretty exhausted, but somehow mustered up the energy to head up to Mount Qasyoun for dinner. Luckily, I am no longer afraid of heights because our dinner table was literally on the edge of a cliff—looking out over the entire city of Damascus, glowing in the dark sky. It was an unbelievable panorama and the food was pretty good too!

Garbage City

I would consider myself to be a pretty experienced traveler. I have now visited over 20 different countries and seen many beautiful and historic landmarks in my lifetime. I think that’s a pretty good track record for only being 22 years old, which is all thanks to my wonderful parents, who apparently, have passed along their “travel genes”. 

I will never forget the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower or the Colosseum, nor will I forget the first time I skied the Southern Hemisphere or swam in the Mediterranean. There are some things in life that stand out from the rest and are worth remembering. I am now adding Egypt to the long list of wonderful memories I have had the privilege of acquiring.

No, it was not the pyramids, although they were spectacular, and no, it was not King Tut’s tomb or the magnificent sunset in Luxor or our delicious seafood dinner in Alexandria.

Of all the great things I have experienced on this journey, the one thing that will forever stick in my mind is our car ride to “The Zabaleen”, or for most of you who don’t know, the land of the garbage people.

Never in my life have I been so taken back by an experience, or smell. It is extremely difficult to accurately describe this neighborhood because what we saw was unlike anything anyone could ever imagine, or believe.

The streets were narrow and flooded by a sea of trash. Mounds of waste had built up in certain areas because there was nowhere to dispose of it. Trash was pouring out of windows, buildings, and doorways. This is not an exaggeration. 

The city of Cairo discards a total of 12,000 TONS of trash per day, and of that, the Zabaleen people collect 8,000 tons of garbage everyday. This means that large dump trucks—piled high with loads of trash, are constantly in and out of the Zabaleen community unloading other people’s waste into the arms of families, and to children who are sometimes as young as 6 years old. While we were there, young children were seen knee deep in heaps of filth; sorting trash and digging for material that could potentially be resold for a few extra pounds.

It took an entire day to mentally digest. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had seen and how people could physically and mentally live in this type of environment, and furthermore, CHOOSE to do so. It was heartbreaking. I wanted to give them all of my money, or if anything just a clean shower and a good meal. The entire experience was very emotional, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now. 

As we drove through the windy streets, each alley became more unbearable than the next. The filth and sadness that surrounded our enclosed van made me feel as if I was visiting an exhibit—to be seen, but not touched, and something that you definitely want to be protected from.

The thin sheet of glass stood as an enormous divide between the difference in worlds. It was as if our lives did not function simultaneously in the same universe. Here I am, age 22, choosing to study comfortably abroad in a country that treats its visitors better than it does its own people.

Not to mention, the “Zabaleen” are the quintessential “loaners” of Cairo—thrown to the outskirts of the city and guarded by policemen for one reason: never to be seen or heard. Even having Americans come to visit this area posed a threat, and once Egypt’s governmental officials realized, we were immediately forced out.

Interestingly enough, the Zabaleen represent the majority of the Christian population in Egypt. Many people—even locals, do not know where they live or they feel uncomfortable talking about them. The most recent swine flu scare, which resulted in the slaughtering of 300,000+ pigs (the number is still not fully determined), grossly impacted the people and pockets of the Zabaleen. Because pigs are not allowed in the Koran, the Zabaleen would use the pigs for both food and help with depositing organic waste, which is found in the trash. This more recent political dispute, in addition to the Zabaleen’s extreme lifestyle, gives the Egyptian government more than enough reasons to be weary of the attention. 

For me, this was more than enough reasons to go back to the Zabaleen the following day to write about it….and that’s precisely what I did.

Egypt gives two thumbs up on Microfinance projects

On Wednesday, Colby and I visited an extremely poor neighborhood called, Alyna-Sira. We had planned to meet the coordinator of a non-governmental organization called Alashenik. Alashenik is a non-profit microlending firm. They have helped 5,000 people alleviate poverty within the last 4 years.

Prior to our departure, we realized that we did not have a translator, and that if we were going to be at all successful, a translator was more than necessary. Unfortunately, Professor Sullivan was busy with meetings all morning, but offered to translate for us via telephone. As Wednesday morning arrived, we had no other choice than to grab a cab, charge our cell phones and hope for the best.

This was one of our first “on-the-job” lessons in being a foreign correspondent—learn to speak the language or find a translator before making any other decisions!

The neighborhood of Alyna-Sira was devastatingly poor. As we stepped out of the black, rusty cab and onto the dusty streets, I realized how unbelievably lucky I was for first, everything I have, but also, that I was given the opportunity to experience how the other side of the world lives—in Egypt none the less.

Quick fact: 40 percent of Egypt lives below the poverty line, meaning less than $2 a day. I’d be surprised if the people of Alyna-Sira even had that.

We met Riham Hussein, the coordinator of Alashenik down the road, just a few steps away from the cab.  After introducing ourselves, she asked me what I thought of the neighborhood. Afraid that I would insult her, I politely said after a long pause, “Um. I need to see more of it before deciding.” What I was really thinking was, “This is terrible. How can people live like this? I hope the office isn’t too far away…and air conditioned.”—Typical American.  I was also thinking, “We are going to have such a hard time interviewing this woman without a translator. How will we pull this off?”

Inside Alashenik also took me by surprise. The space was tiny and looked more like a storage closet than anything else. We managed to beeline our way through the giant boxes filled with whicker bags.

After the first few questions, I knew we were in trouble. The interview was turning out to be more of a game of charades than a professional interview. I think Riham also realized the language barrier, but was fluent enough to tell us that her colleague was going to be arriving in ten minutes to translate.

 THANK YOU GOD.

From that point on, the interview was a breeze and everything I could have asked for. We visited the homes of a couple loan recipients and listened intently to their stories—again, with the help of the translator. One woman’s husband receives the loan and buys animal skins, for use in bags/jackets and other purposes. The second family we met has been apart of the loan program for a year and a half. They use their loan of 750 pounds, which they receive every ten months, to fund their in-home convenience store. They hope to extend their store within the next year—depending on whether they receive an additional loan to increase their amount.

Interestingly enough, the United States does not provide funding for Alashenik because they have a zero interest rate program. Riham expressed her future concerns for Alashnik—mentioning that the recession has impacted the funding and donations given to the NGO. Most of the money received comes from private donors, so now that people are clenching their purses much more these days, there has not been a stable amount of money coming in. However, King Hussein of Jordan has just donated $50,000 to Alashenik. Riham’s face lit up as soon as she saw our reactions to what the translator was telling us. You could see that she is extremely passionate in what she does. I cannot wait to begin writing…

I’m still alive…

I know I haven’t blogged in a while, but I have not forgotten about you! I’ve actually been extremely busy running around Cairo finding interesting stories to tell you about!

If you don’t mind, I’m going to backtrack a little.

So I have already told you about the unique experience we had at the soccer stadium, but on that note, I should also mention that we took on Egypt’s premiere women’s team in a soccer game Monday night. As I’m sure you have already guessed—we got our butts kicked, but put up a good fight and even managed to score…once. However, it was a great time and gave us all a chance to blow off some steam and finally exercise!!

Prior to the match, the girls on our trip were debating on what color shirts we were planning to wear to make sure that we were able to recognize one another on the field. Well, we arrived and shortly found out that there wasn’t going to be a problem distinguishing who was on who’s team, as the Egyptian players were fully veiled.

Poor girls, it must get extremely hot exercising with those veils in the summer months.

After the game, we were literally bombarded for photographs and our e-mail addresses—one girl has already written me! Egyptians are very sweet people and eager to learn about American culture. The Egyptian soccer coach told me to move to Cairo and come play for his team, haha. That may have been my dream ten years ago, but for now I’m good with the direction my life is headed.

Note: More posts are on the way. If you haven’t already caught word, internet in Syria is very spotty and many of us have had troubles blogging/receiving e-mail. Make sure to stay tuned.