My New House

As promised, I have some pictures of the house I moved into about a month ago. The inhabitants are Hany and I, and Hany's cat which is named "Bajj." According to Hany, he came up with this name somewhat randomly, not thinking it was a word, but later found it is the Arabic word for a certain species of wildcat, so the naming was all the more appropriate:

Sometimes Bajj gets upset, and in general wants to play 24 hours a day, and by playing I mean biting you or attacking with claws.

Yes, I am allergic to cats, but this is something I have to put up with. It's best if I play with budge with a layer of clothing in between, such as with my feet, but only if I have socks on.


Below are some pictures of the house. I don't have the time to do a proper shot of my room, so I combined a bunch of distorted images to give you a general idea of what it looks like:

And here are the various other rooms:

Class Trip to Bosra

Two Fridays ago, we took our third class-trip and visited the city of Bosra in southern Syria. Like Damascus' and Aleppo's Old Cities, Krak des Chevaliers, Salah Ad-Din's Castle, and Tadmur, Bosra has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.


A description of the city's history courtesy of Wikipedia:

The settlement was first mentioned in the documents of Tutmose III and Akhenaton (14th century BC). Bosra was the first Nabatean city in the 2nd century BC. The Nabatean Kingdom was conquered by Cornelius Palma, a general of Trajan, in 106.

Under the Roman Empire, Bosra was renamed Nova Trajana Bostra, and was the residence of the legio III Cyrenaica and capital of the Roman province Arabia Petraea. The city flourished and became a major metropolis at the juncture of several trade routes, including the Roman road to the Red Sea. The two Councils of Arabia were held at Bostra in 246 and 247 AD. The city was conquered by the Sassanid Persians in the early 7th century, and, after a hosrt Byzantine reconquest, was finally captured by the forces of the Rashidun Caliphate under Khalid ibn Walid in the Battle of Bosra (634). Thereafter it was an Islamic possession.

Bosra played an important part in the early life of the Prophet of Islam, Mohammed as described in the entry for the Christian Monk, Bahira.

Today, Bosra is a major archaeological site, containing ruins from Roman, Byzantine, and Muslim times, its main feature being the well preserved Roman theatre. Every year there is a national music festival hosted in the theater.


(End description)



One of the main attractions in the city is it's amazingly complete Amphitheater, which I've included a picture of below. I didn't really photograph any of the ruins on this trip, partly because I didn't want to bring my heavy gear and partly because they have been photographed by so many thousands of others that I figured I didn't have much to add or comment on. Here are a few pictures I found on the internet of the theater and the ruins:

I instead photographed what interested me more, the following little scenes:


A run down house/building on the stone-path leading to the ruins:

A portrait of my friend Paul from the program. Paul is an extremely bright history-buff who hopes to become a Professor of Middle Eastern studies in the future. I think this photo is 100% Paul:






Door on a coffee shop just outside the ruins:






A mosque I saw in the distance while standing in front of the Citadel:






A decorated wall next to the Citadel:

Syrian shabab hanging out next to a portait of the previous Syrian leader, Hafez Al-Asad:

A portrait of my indomitable Fusha teacher, Shadi:






Finally, while walking through the ruins, a man in one of the tour groups called me over and asked me if I were studying at Tufts. He had spotted my college sweatshirt that I was wearing with "Tufts" written on it in bold letters. I told him that I had graduated in 2008 and that I was currently studying here. He told me that he had graduated in '85 and was now part of an investment group visiting the country, and was set to have lunch with Bashar Al-Asad, Syria's current president, the following day. He also said that within a week he was to return to Boston to meet with Lawrence Bacow, the current President of Tufts University. While I don't think this deserves one of those "it's a small world" comments, I did find it to be quite the coincidence.

Saladin: The Musical

Hany invited me to a play held at the Dar Al-Asad Opera House based on the life of the Syrian Kurdish hero Salah Ad-Din Ibn Ayyub (you may recall that I visited one of his castles in Syria). This play, put on by the Syrian dance troupe Anana, could most aptly be described as a form of dance-theatre with the addition of some interesting “cinematic” elements. It depicts Salah Ad-Din’s successful capture of Jerusalem from a Crusader army to whom the hero offers generous terms of surrender. The on-stage action was divided into scenes of dialogue in Classical Arabic (but from a recorded track that actors lip-synched) and scenes of dance and dance-action. We see the ruthless tactics of the Crusaders, Salah Ad-Din’s deliberations with his advisors as well as those of the Crusader king and his staff, and of course a few battle scenes thrown in for good-measure. While the dialogue scenes were inevitably somewhat dry and procedural, the dance scenes were consistently impressive and occasionally superb, incorporating classical ballet styles as well as more modern, interpretative routines to drive forward the plot. Certain routines filled up not only the stage with dozens of performers, but also featured aerial components with dancers hanging from wires and swinging around like spider-men.



As I alluded to earlier, some of these scenes were spruced-up with cinematic treatments. To explain, the back wall of the theater’s stage was dominated by a formidably-sized, if somewhat outdated, video screen which was adorned with various props so that it fit into the background of each scene. At various points during the play, the video screen would come alive to display scenes that had previously been shot with different actors to either replace or complement the action occurring on stage. For example, in the scene where the Crusader army invades and attacks a group of civilians, the army is first shown approaching on the video screen, then real-life actors playing Crusader soldiers accompany them on stage to give the impression that they have been getting closer and closer. It was a rather novel idea (at least given my limited experience attending plays) and moreover I thought it was well-executed, being employed to broaden the scope of the on-stage action in an appropriate manner.

As for the content, Salah Ad-Din has, at least in recent Arab history, consistently cited as the ideal Arab hero: brave, strong, and chivalrous. Part of his appeal is that he was both able to resist Western invasions on the part of the Crusaders and earn the respect of both sides in the process. His reputation to this end is well-deserved, and if the history of his achievements is not without some harsh actions, it stands in stark contrast to the reputation of many of his enemies of the time at a specific period in history (the wars of the Crusades) when horrific actions were too numerous to count. That being said, I personally asked the question if there were additional reasons for presenting a play about Salah Ad-Din during the year when Jerusalem has been chosen as the Capital of Arab Culture for 2009 (it was Damascus last year). At the close of the play when Salah Ad-Din’s forces finally regain control of the Holy City, the lighting, music, and performances are all in sync to present a scene of orgasmic tranquility and satisfaction. It goes without saying that most in the audience would like to see Jerusalem freed from its current occupation. So while the play is able to tap into those Arab hopes, it is also presenting a type of nostalgia for the golden days when the Arabs were able to military defeat those who attempted to steal their land, a vision of the past which unfortunately offers no concrete answers for today’s political and humanitarian crises. For as resistance during the Crusades led to the recapture of Jerusalem, such tactics nowadays, although they are for the most part justified in their continuation, will never yield the same outright victories. In this way, although the play Saladin may on some level provide comfort to its intended audience, it is also a play that looks primarily to the past, and is one which is unable to provide a lasting solution for the future.


Here are some pictures of us attending the play at the Dar Al-Asad Opera house along with some of Hany’s family friends. I also took a number of shots inside to make a panorama, but as you can see I forgot to photograph a few of the corners, I will hopefully retake this when I next attend a play:

Pictures from Diwali at Indian Embassy

Last weekend I played the role of official photographer for the Diwali celebration at the Indian Embassy. The get-together featured a cultural show with musical and dance performances, followed by a magic show for the kids, fireworks, and finally dinner. Here are some of the pictures I took for the Embassy (it should be noted that considering how small the Gajria extended family is, it is somewhat surprising that some of the people in this photograph are related to me):

Fuzzy Statistics

Today I was speaking with my friend who owns a nut shop, and he asked me a few questions about occurrences of adultery and shootings in America. He had estimated that the rate of shootings in a city like Los Angeles was around 70%, meaning that he thought 70% of people walking on the street get shot. He then placed the rate of adultery at 80% (and then at 5% in Syria amongst married couples). When I told him the crime rate in my city of Boston was actually very low, he thought I meant 20% of people get shot.

Why is this? First of all it must be said that my friend doesn't represent the majority of Syrians in any way (that kind of statistic would be as inaccurate as those we had been talking about), but having said that, his misconception is much more widespread than it should be amongst those Syrians who have never traveled outside of the country. Unfortunately, in spite of our trade sanctions with Syria, our most popular export is without a doubt our mainstream Hollywood films which are filled with scenes of random people getting caught in the line of gunfire or cheating on their wives. Now I'm not saying we can't put this in our films, but we do have to recognize that for many people this will be their only exposure to our culture. If you doubt their importance, think again about how my friend, who is relatively reasonable and who interacts with a good deal of foreigners in his shop, still placed our shooting rate at seventy-percent without a hint of disbelief. Wow.

Monster Update: Morocco, America, Turkey, Syria

As you may have noticed I haven't written a substantial update for a considerable amount of time. Looking at my blog-sidebar, I noticed that the entire month of September was empty, which is indicative of the flood of assignments that I've received since beginning the fall semester at the CASA program. As promised in the summer, the teachers proceeded to dump upon us an inhumane amount of homework in addition to extended class hours, such that we have been studying five-hours a day in class followed by approximately six-hours per day of homework assignments, meaning that as soon as class was done, it was a matter of getting home to start doing homework until it was time to sleep, with the only breaks being for meals, and waking up tired in order to march to class.

However, it wasn't long before I sat down the lead teacher and expressed my misgivings, not only based on the fact that a lack of sleep prevents all of us from participating in class, but also putting a question mark on this approach to an intensive program. At CASA what I have seen are teachers whose brevity of experience has perhaps led them to assign more and more homework due to a shortage of other ideas. I personally feel that if my goal were to sit in either a classroom or my house all day and read and answer questions, then how does the CASA program differ from a program based in the United States? I am studying in Syria to have access to a real context for what I am learning, meaning I need to take advantage of being in an Arabic-speaking city, interacting with the population (and with my friends at the VERY least), and hopefully studying in a program that forges a bond between the students and their city. However, it seems any sense of imagination is lost in what is essentially a rather traditional language study program (long class hours and lots of homework), likely because it is linked with the very traditional University of Damascus, that fails to harness its surroundings for foreign students. In brief, I can imagine a great program with 5 hours of class per day, 3 hours of homework, and the rest of the time devoted to interacting with Syrians. Had I not had a whole year previous at IFPO, I think I would know too little about my surroundings.

After making my complaints, which I believe were echoed by a considerable number of other students, the program has promised to find a better balance in assigning homework. We will see how that works out, but my experiences here only further prove that the teaching of Arabic to Western students is a science still in its infancy despite all the money and interest being poured into it and is in need of some thinking outside of the box…perhaps I will write a large post on that after I leave the program. I already have many ideas cooking, but given how the Damascus program is run, they would require a totally new program as their integration would be impossible.

The important thing is that I am now taking time this weekend to run through an extremely abbreviated update of my life over the past few months in chronological order.

First off, I have finally gotten my hands on some of my friend Mike's pictures from Morocco that we took on our 10-day-ish trip around the country. Without further ado, here they are:

The first is of Mike and I along with one of his friends from the Peace Corps who we met up with in what I recall is Meknes:

The second is from Sefrou where accessing the valley we sought required a somewhat dangerous pipe crossing. The picture I took of Mike makes the cross look approximately twice as dangerous:

The next four are from our hike in the mountains in Chefchauoun where we ran out of drinking water about two hours after starting out. Since this was an all-day-hike (we didn't come close to finishing it even after 8 or so hours) we were forced to drink local water, which despite being from the mountains, was still a risky prospect:

As such, we took plenty of pictures of us drinking from the various holes in the rocks and/or pipes in case we got sick and wanted to have memories of how it happened:

Soon after Morocco my IFPO program ended, CASA Summer started and ended, and then I was off home to the U.S. for a one-month break. There I managed to edit a hundred or so of my photos, take care of some errands, and MOST importantly see a good number of friends and family, which I was really in need of after what had been a little over a year in Syria with only one short return in between. Among the good times I had was a trip to see the mansions in Rhode Island for Labor Day with Jess, Jose, Tim, and Harsha. Here are some photos from that little road-trip. Why are so many of these photos of Jose? A question best posed, but left unanswered.

I started classes the morning that I returned to Syria. Unfortunately, during the break I learned from my friend Ahmad that my landlord had decided to give the house over to his father while I was away. As such, I was unable to return home to sleep and instead had to grab my belongings from my room at 2 AM and bring them to my house of my CASA friend Reed, who thankfully lives only about 3 minutes away. I ended up taking a room on the upper floor of his house for the start of the program. However, it wasn't long before I was hit with another surprise. At the end of our first half-week of classes, it was announced that the following week had been declared a nation-wide vacation in honor of the post-Ramadan Eid celebration. Although a break is always nice, it meant that I could have stayed in America an extra week and a half! The important thing now however was to decide what to do with this free time. The same weekend we received this news, I made sure to visit the Midan area of Damascus just before Eid where all the best sweets were on sale. The entire area was lit up and even at 2 AM the streets were crowded as if it were 2 PM. Here are some snaps from the evening:

Setting up my tripod for a panorama:

Rough draft of the panorama:

Preparing dough:

As luck would have it, my friend Reed who I moved in with happens to speak Turkish and was planning on making a trip to the less-touristy Southern Turkey for the break. Knowing this was a unique opportunity (a basic knowledge of Turkish helps you discover otherwise inaccessible parts of the country without paying for a guide), I decided this would be the best way to take advantage of the break. We were joined by two other CASA classmates, Paul and Sasha. We ended up visiting three main areas. On day one we took a train from Damascus to Aleppo, from which we took a taxi across the Turkish border into a city called Gaziantep (Antep), from which we then took a bus to Sanlurfa (Urfa). See the map below for the route:

In Urfa we first saw the Rizvaniye Mosque which is located on a large pool filled with what are considered to be sacred fish. Most visitors buy a tin of fish food to throw to the fish which crowd over to the edge where you stand even before you drop in the pellets.

First here is someone else's photo of the area at night (I felt this area had been photographed so much that there wasn't much point in me trying):

Here are my friends feeding the fish:

Next we climbed up the nearby hill upon which is perched the Urfa citadel. From above we got this view of Great Mosque which adjoins the Rizvaniye Mosque:

I ended up liking the view so much that I made this panorama with Reed standing on the side (rough draft):

Sasha spotted me taking all that time and snapped this:

And then this of Reed, Paul, and I exploring:

From atop the citadel I took a few pictures myself:

We then descended to the Great Mosque that I had photographed from up top, although it was unfortunately closed for renovations. I got these shots of it:

We also walked around the streets of Urfa, which I must say were quite charming. The city's market has the feel of an Old City not unlike Damascus or Meknes, with some nice old alleys, where Sasha got one of the pictures below of me walking around. We also stopped for tea at the garden next to the Mosque and I got a picture of the little boats that you can ride on the pool via a reflection:

The next day we decided to visit the mountain of Nemrut Dagi on top of which are the famous "giant-head" statues. A king from ancient times commissioned not only the building of these statues (which were originally attached to equally large body-statues), but the creation of a summit since the mountain was flat topped, meaning countless slaves had to pile up dirt until the mountain looked pointy. From Wikipedia:

"In 62 BC, King Antiochus I Theos of Commagene built on the mountain top a tomb-sanctuary flanked by huge statues (8–9 m/26–30 ft high) of himself, two lions, two eagles and various Greek, and Armenian gods, such as Hercules-Vahagn, Zeus-Aramazd or Oromasdes (associated with the Iranic god Ahura Mazda), Tyche, and Apollo-Mithras. These statues were once seated, with names of each god inscribed on them. The heads of the statues are now scattered throughout the site; the pattern of damage to the heads (notably to noses) suggests that they were deliberately damaged because of belief in iconoclasm. The statues have not been restored to their original positions. The site also preserves stone slabs with bas-relief figures that are thought to have formed a large frieze. These slabs display the ancestors of Antiochus, who included both Macedonians and Persians."

To get there we decided to rent a car rather than deal with a guided tour group. We ended up renting from "Avis," or rather made a deal at Avis for a guy to rent what seemed like his own work car to us. It was a Peugeot and it was the most difficult piece of junk to drive (there seems to be consensus on this from everyone who I talked to about this model), although the real trouble was in the city where there was crazy Middle-Eastern traffic as opposed to the highways outside or even the steep mountain where you could take your time. On the way we stopped in a town situated on the river that runs through the Ataturk Dam for some fresh seafood. This is us with the car and then the Ataturk Dam which we visited shortly afterwards:

While at the seafood restaurant, we saw a swing set sitting in the middle of the adjacent field, and decided it would be perfect to make a "band photo" with, ie the cover art for our album assuming that we were a band. We came up with this:

The mountain itself is a large national park with several sites on the way to the peak. We stopped at the major ones including some eagle statues and an old Roman bridge, along with some tablets with writings in ancient Greek among other languages. Despite all the rich history, I only snapped this photo which puts Reed against the background of a carving depicting the meeting between Pericles and the king Mithridates:

"Basking in the glow of the junk":

After an incredibly steep drive to the summit (I drove in 1^st gear most of the way), we reached the point where we had to start hiking, after which we saw the gigantic heads and stayed for the sunset. Here are some pictures from that, including a shot of the artificial summit that was created (don't let the picture fool you, it's actually HUGE):

I should have some more pictures of this when I finally go home and edit some of the HDRs I took of the sunset.

We drove back that night and among the great things we drove by was a Mosque which had converted the entire lower-floor into a furniture store. Mosque fail.

The next day we drove back in the direction of Syria to the city of Antep. There we sampled the delicious Turkish cuisine, visited a mosaic museum where they had just opened an exhibit on a piece of what I believe is Roman-period art entitled "The Gypsy Girl" (see photo below). We also found a hotel which may or may not have been opened in my honor:

So I guess if I were a hotel, I'd be a two-star hotel. But I'm OK with that, which perhaps I couldn't have said when I first saw it, or even a few days after.

Our final day was essentially a long trip home the way we came. The pictures below are from the train station in Antep, Urfa, then finally Aleppo where I spotted a familiar face on a sign for a store that promised "the most stylish haircuts":

Upon returning home I found a bird perched on one of the railings upstairs. I think it had a mental issue because I threw numerous objects around it (pens, etc) to get it to fly away (it was poised to poop on the dinner table) but it refused to move, even after I splashed water on it and Reed pounded on the railing next to it with a broom. Darwin fail:

Unfortunately, it wasn't long after getting back until I found out that I had to move for the fifth time since coming to Syria. The landlady for Reed's house turned out to be a nutcase and wanted to charge extravagant amounts for the room I was staying in. After long negotiations over the phone including my offer to stay for the next 10-months, she actually ended up RAISING the price she wanted. Apparently she is in the middle of some mental breakdown so I figured it wasn't worth the effort or annoyance to stay. As such, I am now moving in with a Syrian friend of mine named Hani who I met via Meher who had met Hani via their work at the UN. Hani is a student of economics at the University and is among the sharpest Syrian youths I've met. The house I'm moving into is essentially brand new compared to houses in Old Damascus and has 24-hot water due to the clever use of solar panels on the roof, in addition to ADSL internet, meaning I might finally be able to Skype with either having to stay late at school or pay fees at a café far from the house! I will try to get some pictures of this new house after I move in. By the time you read this, I should already be living there. It is located a outside both the Old City and downtown Damascus, but I would really like to live with a friend and since Hani and I have a great time together I think this is the best decision.

Whew. So that was all my major news in brief! I leave you with my most recent snap of the Madhat Basha market which I will be moving far, far away from:

Abu Shaker TV

In a nice coincidence, I was assigned for homework to watch a Syrian TV sketch that featured the main characters drinking at Abu Shaker. As per the screen grabs, the sign is featured, as well as Abu Hamza and the guy who works as the main guy in the morning then later as the assistant to Abu Qasim.

Ramchand Pakistani

Mehreen Jabbar's debut film, Ramchand Pakistani, explores the true story of an eight-year-old Pakistani Hindu boy and his father who accidently cross the line of control in Sindh's Thar Desert during the aftermath of the 2001 attacks on the Indian Parliament in New Delhi and are subsequently taken prisoner in India. While in prison, the boy, Ramchand, (Syed Fazal Hussain) and his father (Rashid Farooqi) become acquainted with their fellow detainees, many of whom have suffered the same misfortune, and the prison staff including the new female prison officer (Maria Wasti) who is assigned the responsibility of raising Ramchand in the jail, despite her reluctance due to the boy's affiliation to the lower Dalit caste. Meanwhile, the boy's mother (Nandita Das) is forced to carry on in her husband's absence and under the weight of the debts he left behind.

Ramchand Pakistani successfully balances it's two-pronged focus on both the concept versus reality of one's national identity as well as on the character melodramas that play out against the background of Ramchand's incarceration. The key to the former is Jabbar and screenwriter Mohammad Ahmed's shrewd choice of protagonist in one of the Hindu Dalits, who constitute a relatively small minority of the Pakistan's population. Ramchand, who until his capture has grown up almost exclusively in the same small village, is effectively unaware of his identity as either a Dalit or a Pakistani until he is taken from his home to India, where the Indian police initially look upon him and his father as foreign spies, while the Hindu officer refuses to let Ramchand touch or clean any of her belongings given that he is from the lowest caste.

In addition to fine location work, it is strong performances across the board that help offset the low-budget, although often attractive video cinematography by D.P. Sofian Khan. Among the fine actors however it is the young Syed Fazal Khan who stands out with a thoroughly honest portrayal of a young, mischievous Ramchand who doesn't quite understand the circumstances that he has fallen into. Kudos to director Jabbar and screenwriter Ahmad who wisely choose to depict Ramchand as a child of his age, who often falters in his interpretations of the new world he is thrown into, rather than a wise adult in a small body, a characterization which is lazily overused in American films featuring young protagonists. Further credit is warranted in the refusal of the filmmakers to thrust any flawless characters upon their audience. Ramchand's father, while loving, is also marked by a sharp temper which alternatively sprouts from a desire to either protect Ramchand in their new surrounding or to blame him for dragging them into their dire situation. The prison guards are similarly equally capable of cruelty and kindness, including the warden whose motherly instincts towards Ramchand are at times suppressed by feelings of racist classicism. Ramchand's mother on the other hand is presented as a resilient individual who manages to pay off her husband's debt in his absence, but is also forced to grapple with an understandable temptation towards infidelity.

Among these characterizations however, it is this Nandita Das role which unfortunately feels somewhat inflated. Although the mother's story is at times important to follow in order to illustrate the effect of imprisonment on this small family, and although her continued presence makes Ramchand's inevitable return all the more poignant, the role is inflated with several superfluous scenes which aren't integral to the film's flow and which distract the viewer from the more interesting events taking place in the prison. One wishes that some of her scenes were given over to help flesh out who is arguably the much more fascinating female character, the prison officer who is assigned her lowly post after years of being passed over for promotion in the male-dominated Indian police force, and whose resoluteness is scrutinized via her relationship with one of the prison guards which threatens to draw her back into a more traditional married life. Similarly, the officer's scenes with Ramchand, while representing some of the movie's most interesting exchanges, are too few in number to fully develop their growing relationship over the course of the film.

Even so, it may be the border itself which constitutes the film's most important character, a row of small white stones in the middle of the Thar desert which despite the almost-sacred concept that they represent amongst the politicians of the two countries, mean nothing to those living closest to them until they suffer the consequences of accidently straying across. When one of the prison inmates comments that they should all be thankful for such borders, as they are what makes them either Pakistani, or Indian, or Bengali, one is unsure whether to criticize the idea given the artificiality of the border itself, and in turn the very concept of the three distinct nationalities, or to reluctantly agree in light of the importance that these divisions have been lent by the governments, and now by many of their people in the fifty years following independence. In any case, by the film's close it becomes clear how the influence of these political and at times seemingly academic issues extends in a very real way even to those groups who seem the least interested in them. Although the border remains virtually invisible in the physical sense from start to finish, by the end of the film it has become very real to at least one character, the boy who we meet in the beginning as Ramchand, but who we leave in the end as Ramchand, Pakistani.

2 Days in the UK

On my way home to America I stopped in London for a brief 2-day rest on my way to Boston. The trip was a nice way for me to break up the journey from Syria to the United States and eat some real home-cooked Indian food while staying with my relatives in Ealing. Also of note is that the best place to look for Indian women may in fact be the immigration line at Heathrow airport. I have never seen so many brown people in one place since the TASA Cultural Show. Wow.

As it turned out there was a South Asian Mela festival at Gunnesbury Park one of the two days I was there, but I felt like going alone wasn't exactly what I wanted to do, and since I had previously planned to see the botanical Kew Gardens, I decided that Mela could wait for another year.

The Kew Gardens is an expansive park that covers many acres and could take about two days to fully explore. I stayed the whole day there exploring, at least four hours, and took a few pictures on my walk:


Indoor Palm forest:




Some flowers:

English? Yaani.

The ironic thing is that this clock is actually fast.