First Trip of 2006

OK, got some major planning for my next work venture done this week. First weekend of Feb I'll be entertaining some overseas guests for the school, including taking them to Atlanta on Sunday and Monday. Rather than return to Southville, I'm just going to stay in ATL and fly out on Wednesday the 8th. First stop: Dubai. Been getting a good response from the Emirates, so I'm showing up a day early to fit in some extra school visits, then the organized tour of the Gulf Region begins. It consists of Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Kuwait, and Bahrain. The tour will also go to Qatar, but I have had no luck there so I will peal off and stay in Bahrain for an extra day or two of school visits. Numbers are up there and I think I can push them further with more groundwork. After that I have a few free days. I think I'll try to hang out in Dubai for a night or two with my buddy Naser, then fly over to the beach town of Goa in southern India. The first part of the last Bourne movie was filmed there. Then it is on to Mumbai for the India tour. It will also hit New Delhi and Bangalore. A month long excursion overall. Whoo-hoo!

Long Overdue Wrap-up

Yes, it has been over a month now since I returned to the USA. I overlooked writing about Ethiopia because there really was nothing to write about outside of work. What little down time we had was spent within the walled hotel compound. The one item of interest occurred on the flight into Addis Ababa. See, we almost didn't even complete this part of the trip because Ethiopia and Eritrea decided to once again declare war on one another. But, seeing as how most of the hostilities are traditionally at the border several hundred miles away from Addis, the group decided to carry on.

On this flight there were two very suspicious characters. They first caught my attention because they stank so bad. This is saying a lot. Most of my travel is in places were there is not so much value put on one's personal odor. Theirs still managed to offend. Of course, one was seated on my row, though not right next to me. His friend was right behind him. The second thing to catch my attention was how jittery this guy was. He was beyond, "I've never before been on a plane in my life." This was more like "Planes fly by magic and I forgot my magic zebra's foot." He was looking all around, fidgeting, then taking off his jacket, then his shirt (leaving his undershirt on), putting his jacket back on, taking it back off, deciding to also put the shirt back on, etc, etc, etc. I first started to think he was deranged when he started to fiddle with his belt. I first started to think he might be dangerous when he started to fiddle with the sole of his shoe. That is when I gave him the death look. Not a quick glance, like you give to the loud people behind you in the movie theatre, but the look the bouncer gives a guy picking up an empty beer bottle, perhaps intending to use it as a weapon. When he got up to go to the bathroom, I almost followed and kicked the door in. However, nothing happened. No "let's roll" moment was necessary. On the other hand, both men were detained immediately after landing, so I was not the only one to be unnerved by them.

And the trip ended happily ever after. Next stop: the Gulf region once again, and India, once again. That will begin in February. Later in the spring I will go to India again, and hopefully (if I rub my magic Zebra foot enough) Switzerland. Oh yeah.

Classic East Africa: Kenya & Tanzania

From Harare, Zimbabwe we flew to Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania (or just Dar, to those who know it). Here we had two more college fairs and school visits. It was hot, since we were on the coastal plain and no longer the highlands. The college fair at the US Embassy was outdoors. Enough said. Directly from said fair we caught a charter flight to Mombassa and then a dirt strip somewhere east of Mount Kilimanjaro, taking only an overnight bag and leaving most of our luggage behind in Dar with the local high school counselor. We were now in for a real treat: a full day and game drive in Tsavo West national park. The pics say it all.


The horse we rode in on...


Entrance to Finch Hatton's




Boaboab






monkeys






A good example of nature's camo...


Now look closer between mom and dad


hungry, hungry


Hippo from underwater observation thingee


dusk


The accomodations

After our respite it was back to Dar just long enough to get our luggage and then catch a flight to Nairobi. Or at least that was how it was supposed to work. Instead, our flight was downgraded to a smaller plane with no room for our luggage. We had to repack another overnight bag. Therefore, the next day in Nairobi we were stinky and unhappy. We’d already checked-out of the hotel once we got our luggage back, so it was of no use. I decided this was the perfect moment for a group photo:


Juan Camilo makes sweet, sweet love to the camera

Hotel Zimbabwe

Our ambassador: Quite happy with himself

The timing of our arrival was very lucky for the American Embassy in Harare. The ambassador, Dell, had just gotten himself in hot water with the local government. Mugabe, the president and big time a-hole, was actually quoted in the paper as saying, “Dell can go to hell.” Dell was quite proud of it, as this was just the kind of rise he was trying to provoke. He had recently given a widely publicized speech at a nearby university, blaming corrupt and inept governance for Zimbabwe’s economic woes, rather than sanctions and drought, oft blamed by said governance. It sounded as if he was actually disappointed that Mugabe didn’t outright expel him. Instead, the American Embassy threw a party at the house of the director for public affairs. We visiting American education reps were the excuse for the party. It wouldn’t be seemly to throw a party in response to successfully pissing off a dictator.


Party time: one of our own on drums

Once again, the weather was more pleasant than we had right to hope for. Nice and cool. The public fair we held in the hotel was very successful. Very busy. I even found very cool presents for all my bartender buddies back in Southville. I won’t say what they are, because I’m afraid they might be illegal.


What 40 US dollars will get you on the black market in the local almost-useless currency.

First-class Ticket to Dodo-Land

Ah, the weekend. Our first pleasant surprise was that the travel agency in charge of all our arrangements managed to upgrade all of our tickets to business class for the 4-hour flight to the island nation of Mauritius. Mauritius is way, way out in the Indian Ocean, hundreds of miles east of Madagascar. This is the (dormant) volcanic island where once lived the unfortunate flightless bird known as the Dodo. These isolated fowl were so unused to predators that settlers didn’t even have to chase or shoot them. I read that some Dutch guy walked up and bludgeoned the last one to death. Poor little fellas. Why did God make you taste so good?



Disembarking the plane, I felt we had been transported to the Caribbean. The culture however, belongs more to South Asia. Diwali decorations were all over the airport. The air was surprisingly cool, as it has been at all our stops, luckily. We hopped on a bus and drove to the north-west coast – about an hour and fifteen minutes. After quickly checking in to the Hotel Maritim, the tour members were treated to a reception with local school and embassy employees down by the water. Since booze was provided, and there were no activities scheduled for the next day, a group quickly formed towards the end to continue the evening at a nearby bar favored by both tourists and locals.

Drinking here continued apace. Some of our hardier members decided to continue on to a late-night club. I did not. I’d had a lot to drink, but not nearly enough to dance. That would require liquor, which I am still taking a break from, and I wanted to enjoy the next day – our first day off.



I woke around noon. In the lobby I joined our tour leader, an embassy employee, and three fellow tour members. We had been invited to visit the home of a local Franco-Mauritian businessman for lunch. Wow, what a pad. If I ever have the luxury of retiring, I'd like it to be to a place like this. Right on the water, open to the breeze... He also took us out on his boat. This was the French version of what we in the South would call a redneck speed-demon. Way too much horsepower for a narrow 20-foot hull. But, it was fun, in a "Holy shit, he almost killed us" kind of way.

Next day: back to work. School visits and flight back to Joburg.

S.A.

Going from school to school...

On the first official day of the tour we had two school visits and one visit/fair. So, a full day. Bright kids all round. White South Africans, black South Africans, and third country national from many different countries. We drove all over the Cape transferring between the schools and going to lunch at a winery. This is a beautiful region, and the local climate varies drastically as one moves from side to side of the massive Table Mount which dominates the skyline. Overall it is much cooler and wetter than I had imagined, but welcome.


The Cape

Once back at the hotel I decided to take a walk south and east along the coast of the Cape with a rep from Vancouver, Damara. We strode through several waterfront suburbs and wandered into a gathering of the area’s Muslim population at a park. It might have been the end of Ramadan, but I’m not sure. I’m having a hard time keeping up with my own calendar, let alone others’. Overall a good little trek that took us about two and a half hours down and back. Glad I took it – now I feel as if I’ve gotten to know Cape Town a bit, outside the touristy developed part of the waterfront I saw earlier. Too bad we didn’t have more time here to explore. I’ll have to come back.


Table Mountain from the hotel

The next day it was a very early wake-up: 5 am. Then we were off to the airport and Johannesburg, or Joburg for short. We had to be dressed for work, as we did not even stop at the hotel before conducting our school visits and college fair. The school where we held the fair was actually in the middle of hosting a men’s and women’s soccer tournament, so we were able to speak to students from several countries we are not able to visit on this tour.


South of Cape Town

Finally, at around 5:30 pm, we checked into our hotel – the Michaelangelo on Mandela Square. Very posh. Lots of shopping and restaurants directly connected, so no need to brave JoBurg proper, which we have all been warned can be dicey. I had some great Thai on the square.

The city itself is much more American feeling than I’d expected. Reminds me a good bit of Austin, Texas – a medium sized city set amongst green, rolling hills. So far I have not at all felt like I am in Africa, culturally or meteorologically. The weather has been much too pleasant. That might change tomorrow when we go to Botswana.

Ten Hours in Botswana

We woke early this morning, broke our fast, and headed to the JoBerg International Airport. There we caught a prop plane to Gaborone, Botswana. From the air Gaborone does not look so much like a city – more like some buildings and roads mistakenly placed in what is otherwise godforsaken wasteland covered in scrubby foliage (see pic of “airport”). Botswana is sparsely populated – only 1.7 million people in the whole country. And soon it will probably be even more sparsely populated because approximately 680,000 of these people have HIV or AIDS. Yep. That was not a typo. Forty percent. This is not the place to open a singles bar. Or visit one.

Despite these grim statistics (or perhaps because of them?) the school visit was very productive. These kids are pumped about attending university in the USA. After the visit the school’s counselor took us to a couple of shopping locations. I never should have gotten out of the bus. At the first stop I bought all kinds of knick-knacks for people back home – which I now have to lug across the rest of the continent. At the second stop I found a café, bought a beverage, and read my book. The best way to resist temptation is to avoid it.


Fake wildlife outside the airport

Then it was back to the airport for the return flight. The employees there must have thought us eccentric pop-in tourists. As we are preparing to take off there is of course a thunderstorm moving in. This city has been in the middle of a very long drought. Just my luck it breaks now. I hate turbulence.

Re-entering Joberg a funny thing happened. Planes were backed up because of a thunderstorm there as well. The airport bus that transported us from the plane mistakenly took us to the domestic terminal instead of the international due to some glitch. Therefore, no customs procedures. It being after 9pm, many in the group wanted to just go back to the hotel – it was the airline’s mistake, right? However, I pointed out that when leaving South Africa tomorrow, the officials might find it disturbing that we had no re-entry stamp, and that could cause problems. After some bickering, we all trudged to the international terminal to fix things. Good thing we did. It would have been a 3,000 Rand fine if we had not. I am right again. Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah. Really, I didn’t gloat or say “I told you so” but all my travel-mates owe me beer.

Yay! Pictures!

Who is looking at who?

Yes, I exchanged my battery re-charger for a new one that works. All the following pics in this entry were taken at the Two Oceans Aquarium in Cape Town. I walked there from the Radisson Waterfront after I checked in.




Schlepp-on Luggage:
I have been meaning to rant about this for awhile. I HATE the “carry-on” luggage that people drag behind their sorry asses. If it is too heavy to actually carry, you need to check the damn thing, or go to the gym. I believe it is dubbed “carry-on” for a reason. It is small, and convenient, and you carry the damn thing, dispensing with it quickly once you reach your seat. When these people (and I realize many of my travel-mates are these people) drag this shit behind them it creates a serious obstacle, especially when they forget they are taking up three times as much space as they should be, and stop with it right in your path. Every time one of these idiots cuts me off I am tempted to drop kick the thing and see how durable it really is. Then, most of them can’t pull it in a straight line, so when walking the aisle, they snag it at least half a dozen times on the way to their seat. As a finale, if they are feeble, they will then ask for your help to stow it in the overhead – at which point you give yourself a hernia.




So I get to Cape Town the night of the 31st. I have made no reservations. No problem. I found a place called the Road Lodge online. It is right across the street from the airport. Just so happens that a shuttle from the Lodge is picking up someone from my flight. I hitch a ride. It actually is not the hell-hole that it sounds like it might be. I’m in bed a half-hour after my plane landed. Bliss.




I sleep in and try to let my body adjust to local time. Then I get a cab in town to the Radisson. I have a few hours to burn before our first group meeting, so I go down to the Waterfront district, get a bite, walk around, and look at some fish. After I have seen enough fish, and smelled enough penguin poo, I head back to the hotel to meet my travel-mates for this trip. Typical ice-breakers and going-over of itinerary. It’s a killer, by the way. The 14 of us then go downtown to Africa Café and gorge ourselves on traditional dishes served communal style. This means I eat way more than I should, because I don’t even have to ask before eating off other people’s plates – it’s just there for the taking.


We stink!


Then to bed with my distended belly. I seem to be on local time already, so I’m not going to ruin it.

Carnality Catch-up

You know you are flying too much when you start to recognize members of the sky crew. And when they recognize you in return. And remember that you like those snack pizzas and bring you an extra one.

It was good to be back in Southville for a few days, even though I didn’t really feel “home.” Never got settled back in. Did tons of errands, paid bills, and put in way too many hours at the office. But as hard as I worked, I definitely caught up on the playing as well. As I deserved. Southville celebrated Halloween on Saturday night. I crashed some parties and drank some beer, but kept my vow not to shoot any liquor. Therefore, even though I only had two hours of sleep, I was roaring and ready to go on my next trip in the morning. In fact, this sleep deprivation was in no way related to partying. It was to deliberately upset my body-clock, so that when I arrived in South Africa I could re-set it to local time. At least it turned out that way.

The Luck Holds

The last fair was long, real long (7 hours), but went well. Mellow. I was even able to make it to the Bombay Store afterwards, with a couple reps from DePaul, to do some last minute shopping. Once kicked out of the store we took a cab to Tendulkar's (owned by and named for the huge cricket star) for dinner. Also, during the fair, I was interviewed twice, once for print and once for national TV. Wow. Y'know - last trip out I was actually quoted in the Financial Times of London (that's like the European Wall Street Journal). I'm such the world-weary celebrity. After dinner we returned to the hotel and I packed up for the big flight. This is where I really lucked out - the big flight was perhaps only a third full. Everyone had their own section to spread out on and sleep. I also completed TWO crossword puzzles - NY Times and USA Today! I'm on a roll...

Sri Lanka & Delhi Anew

Time for a quick update. The Linden India Tour is over. It was rough. Chennai was a madhouse. Our last stop, Colombo, Sri Lanka, was a welcome change. It was kinda like India, but more mellow, more manageable. Less noise, less chaos. Soothing by comparison. I don't think it is coincidence that the majority of the population here is Buddhist.

Then it was back to New Delhi for the first of two IIE fairs. It was also mellow, though not uneventful. I picked up 6 applications. Good stuff. Tomorrow it is back to Mumbai, then home to Southville. I doubt that my luck will hold out and grant me another pleasant fair.

I can taste the biscuits and gravy... hmmm...

Tattered and Frazzled, as if by Barnacles

I read somewhere that the human brain has evolved, to our great benefit, to not remember pain accurately. For instance, I can remember that it hurt really, really bad when I was young and fell off a boat dock, ripping my abdomen open on barnacles. But do I specifically remember the qualities of that pain, like I can remember specific melodies and pieces of artwork? No way. The reason we have evolved this way is so that we can continue to do things that might hurt us, even horribly. Otherwise, I might never again venture onto a boat dock, and women would all quit after one child.

Likewise, I did not remember how much more trying it is to recruit in India as compared to other countries. Oh. My. God. I am beat. BEAT. It really hit me today. As hard as the Middle East tour was sometimes, India is ten or more times that. Part of the reason is that I am right-brained. Indians, even the artistic ones, all want left-brained answers to everything. They want quantitative descriptions of my university, not qualitative ones. I end up spitting out stats and application requirements for hours on end, with no opportunity to wax poetic on the beauties of Southville or to describe the wonderful events my university sponsors. I have not had time to exercise consistently or eat regular meals, let alone relax or catch up on e-mail (ok, I did finally see the Taj Mahal, but it required 12 hours in a bus, so there). That was the worst part of today - opening my work e-mail, and watching that number in the bottom-left corner climb into the triple digits. Under the Wheel. That is how it made me feel.

But now I am going to bed. I am forgetting the e-mail, and the college fairs still to come. I will wake tomorrow, have breakfast, and then have an e-mail party. If I finish before we check out of the hotel in the afternoon, I might even have a chance to update everyone on the last week.

(If I have bummed you out, go check Molly's blog. She's about to get married, and is sickeningly happy. I got her a cool wedding present in Agra - hope it gets there in time.)

Dirt World

Tuesday was a LONG day. First we had the Embassy visit, which we met for in the hotel lobby at 7:45. Bus did not show until around 9:00, we were finally seated in the embassy around 10:00 for our briefing. It is a little disconcerting when the windows have plaques next to them saying things like: Glass Kills. In case of an emergency stay away from all windows. Nice.

Though we had a nice little meeting, most of the staff had been sucked over to Jeddah to attend to Karen Hughes, Bush’s new appointee as Under-secretary of State for Public Diplomacy. See, she is supposed to do things overseas like improve the image of the United States. Kind of like what all us college reps are doing, by getting students to come over and check it out. Wonder if she knows we are here at the same time? Fulfilling her mission for her? Perhaps she’d like to come to the college fair and show her support? No? Instead she’ll disrupt all our well-laid plans with the embassy by making impromptu PR visits to posts. I guess she took her cue from Bush himself, who rerouted rescue resources from Katrina so that they could show up in the background of his PR appearances. Style over substance…

So ANYWAY, after the embassy we set up our booths for the fair at Al Yamamah College. This was the opening day of a three-day fair. We even had the new king’s brother come and speak. Yes, I did say in an earlier post that it was supposed to be the King, but he too was pulled away by the visit from Karen Hughes (I’m not bitter). Student-wise, it was all guys (girls cannot visit at the same time – day three is reserved for them). And all these guys were interested in was stuff my school does not offer. One even told me my school’s offerings were “bool-sheet.” I’m trying really hard to like the Saudis, but when I get home I think I’ll sell my car and walk everywhere just to deprive them of a few bucks.

After the fair I packed up, said goodbye to Mike, Joseph, and the other tour members, the cabbed to the airport for my flight to Mumbai. It did not leave until 2:30am. I was packed in to a very old jet with a gaggle of foreign workers. It sucked, big time. But I got there, checked into the hotel, napped, went to the organizational meeting, then pigged out with everyone at a local restaurant, Khyber. Dish after dish after dish – it was an incredible feast. Made the past 48 hours fade out (or maybe that was the Kingfisher). Back to work in the morning…

Those pictures I promised...

...can be found below. I managed to get them off my camera and onto the laptop, but still the batteries are dead, so no new ones. I'll figure this out as soon as there's time. The new tour has started, so we are very busy.

Gatehouse to the Emirates Palace

Emirates Palace

"No, I insist, you drive the Rolls."

Joseph chatting up some students in Bahrain

The group enjoying the smoking room

worm's view of the central atrium

Joseph, a young Telly

Yours truly, enjoying a shot of Wild Turkey (yes, it was on the menu).

Mike, of the Rat Pack

A debate...

Hani, Mike and I

OK, camera still has no juice, so no new pics of my own (above is from Mike). Was going to show you the amazing Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi (and still will, en Shallah). If my camera was going to poop somewhere, Riyadh ain't a bad place for it. There is not much to distinguish this place from Amarillo, Texas - a hell-hole I've actually been to. But at least in Amarillo you can drink beer and flirt with pretty ladies. Not in Riyadh. Oh no.

So another digression: over the course of this trip, Mike and I have been debating over what allows you to claim having "been to" a country. I take the simple view that you must at least spend the night, and hopefully eat some distinctive food, try the local beer. Even this is sometimes cutting it close. Best if you can spend a few nights, see some sights, meet some locals. Mike, being an old man with little time left on this Earth (I keed, I keed), argues that simply setting foot in an airport gives one right to claim a country. How lame.

So who is more right? Or do you have your own benchmark? One other rep said you have to brush your teeth there. I thought that was interesting. Please comment... and visit Mike's site to heckle him.

Limbo

Okay, first off, this is not the post I want to make right now. I have some really, really cool photos to show off, but unfortunately my camera is SO out of juice, I cannot even download to my laptop. This would not be an obstacle, except that the battery charger I bought at CIRCUIT CITY (refund requested, if any corporate bastards are reading this) has decided not to work. Therefore, I give you the following anecdote:

Tomorrow our group flies to Saudi Arabia (one of two countries named after a family. What's the other? Discuss). Reps are taking bets over whether or not I will be detained and jailed at the airport due to some of the "artistic" photos in my school's catalog. We shall see. What IS certain is that no alcohol is allowed within The Kingdom (except at the US Embassy, which I hear throws a kick-ass party). Mark (from Toledo) and I decided that due to this we needed a couple or dozen pints of Guiness the night before the journey. Lucky for us, we found out where the only place in town has The Black Stuff on tap. Quite a cosmopolitan establishment it was: our waitress is the first Uzbek I have ever met, and we ended up befriending a gaggle of Australian platform workers. By "platform" I mean OIL platform. These guys travel around the region by barge, maintenancing platforms. They make quite a bit of money, and try to claim as little as possible, so I will not mention any names. What I will say is that I will never again complain about sub-standard accomodations. Anyone in Southville, or Panama City, has seen a container ship pass by, called so for their cargo containers. Guess where these guys are forced to sleep during their stay? If you said on the ship, that is bad, but not bad enough. They are sleeping on cots INSIDE A CONTAINER. That was their excuse for drinking, and drink they did...

Bahraini Confessional

The H4: Oil sheiks have so much money, they use it as a planter.


Today was a good day, and a bad day.

The Good:
Three great visits, to schools catering to natives Bahrainis and other Gulf residents (not-expats). We were all way busier at every school than we thought we would be. At the first I went through materials like crazy, at the second I tried to be stingy, at the third I was just out and told kids I'd send them stuff later. I really felt like I did a great job today, not just representing my university, but representing the USA in general. If I get some apps out of it, even better.

Back at the hotel I took a much needed nap, then logged on and started doing yet more catch-up work. I went through my interest cards and made spreadsheets of students and their e-mails by country and event. Then I started sending them follow-up e-mails. At 8pm I met some other reps at a nearby Indian restaurant for dinner (as if I won't get enough Indian food in the next few weeks). Then I came back to my room, opened my bottle of Lebanese wine, and did more e-mail.


Baggage fiasco: that ain't fitt'n in the back of that truck. We ended up hiring two extra cabs, for luggage.

The Bad:
As I finished my mail and wine (it was a half-bottle), Hani knocked on the door. We had agreed to hit the town together, as tomorrow is the first day we have nothing to wake up for. Let me say this now: hanging out with Hani is not bad. That is not what I mean. Hani is a good guy to sit and talk with, just check out his blog.
What I mean is that I did not enjoy the going out - at all. I must be getting old, or mature, or something. But, at the same time I think that, I realize that I have hated the whole "going out" scene for a long, long time. This is coming from someone who has been a patron, bouncer, barback, bartender, and manager of a bar. Familiarity breeds contempt? And if I hate it, why do I feel compelled to still do it? I don't know. I do know that I feel more comfortable working at a bar than frequenting it. I prefer being an observer. Now that I have my "real" job, I'm stuck on the wrong side. I'm thinking it's time to throw in the towel. I gave up TV, why not going out? Another thing I know is that I enjoyed cataloging my student contacts more than I did exploring the local social scene. Ugh. Here are some more pics:


Early AM: Leaving Oman


Construction of the Bahrain World Trade Center. Deja vu anyone?

BAM! : Beirut, Amman, Muscat

Ah, my club sandwich from room service showed up just as I sat down to write. Now I shall much on French fries and type with greasy fingers. Notes:
1) Internet in the Middle East is spotty, and where available often very expensive. Therefore my posts may be sporadic.
2) Yes, there was a bombing in Beirut while I was there. I was in my hotel when it happened, and wouldn’t have known until the morning, except I had CNN on while I was packing. I still love that city.
3) The pics I promised last post will be spread throughout this entry, often where not related, just to break them up. They are of Baalbek, an amazing Roman site in the Bekaa Valley of the interior of Lebanon. The first of these:

Last time I visited Beirut I went on and on about how much I liked it, so I will try not to repeat myself too much. I will try to be creative and/or specific with my praise.



For instance, I am infatuated with city-states. I always have been. I can remember in middle school, high school, and college being fascinated by ancient Greece and all of its distinct, unique little units; by Renaissance Italy and its scheming, warring neighbors; and by the bewildering mess of pre-unification German principalities and whatnot (Prussia kicked ass!). Even today, I admire the modern-day anachronistic holdouts of Europe like Andorra, Luxembourg, San Marino, and the Vatican.



In the Middle East however, the city-state is alive and well: Lebanon, Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, and the Emirates (all seven). One could even argue that Israel and Jordan are city-states of a sort. There are bite-sized countries, perfect for getting to know in a short period of time. They are intimate and have cohesive personalities, rather than wide varieties in character due to regionalisms. This is not to say they are not complex – just look at Lebanon and Israel. Careers and lifetimes have been spent on studying and trying to figure out these tiny nations. Enough rambling on this tangent…


Notice the people, bottom right, for scale

An illustration of why I am infatuated with Lebanese women, namely, a prospective grad student taking my card at the fair in Beirut:

“This is your name? J----? Mine is Mira.”

“Mira? That sounds Spanish.”

“Yes, I know. It means look. I am nice to look at, yes?”


Those pillars, one more time

The embassy guys offered to take us out on the town after the fair, but we had to decline. Our flight is early (woke at 5am to catch it) and there is much packing to do. Like I said earlier, it was during this packing that I heard about the bombing. Still, no problems leaving in the morning.



Next stop was Amman, Jordan. Jordan has some very cool sites, primarily Petra (you know, the Indiana Jones grail-temple in the final movie), and Jerash (Roman site in the north). I saw both of these on a foreign study trip in college. No time for that this go-round. Our schedule of events started just a couple of hours after we checked in. I thought the fair would be as sleepy as Amman is. No way. It was a tidal wave of students. I think I’ll get some good apps from here.

After the fair a few of us went down the street to a sandwich shop that was open late. Chicken schwarma to die for, cheap. To bed.

The next morning we had to check out before making our school visits, because we would not be going back to the hotel. Had to leave one tour member behind because she was sick (she met us later at the airport). School visits were good. Had a traditional buffet lunch before hitting the airport again: lots of lamb, olives, and hummus.

Erectile Dysfunction (heh, heh)

A bird grazed me with poop as we entered the airport. Another guy got hit hard. It was ugly. Airport pigeons suck.

Inside the Temple of Bacchus

We arrived at Amman airport at 4pm. We did not finish checking into our hotel in Muscat, Oman until 2am. This is why I awoke at 9:20am this morning. We were supposed to get on the bus for a school visit at 9:30. You have never seen a man dress and pack promotional materials so fast.

On the way to Baalbek

The school visit was great (glad I made the bus). I raved about this place on the blog last time around. Sharp, sharp ex-pat kids. I really want to get a couple to my university. Mike, who was set-up next to me, got a good picture of me talking to a very animated Irish/Venezuelan girl. I'll have to get it from him.

Back at the hotel, we had a couple hours to kill before the fair. I went for a 3 mile run on the beach. It felt good to almost kill myself again. The heat was absurd. The only thing that spared me was a good stiff breeze off the Indian Ocean. Back, I jumped in the pool for a bit, then went back to my room for room service lunch and a little computer work.

The fair: steady but nowhere near as hectic as the last two. Now I'm going to try to take care of some email and hit the sack.



That is a cross-section of a fallen pillar that I am stretching my 6'3'' body across. Romans = Bad Ass Ancient Engineers