For the past couple of weeks, like everyone else in Syria, I've been watching the nightly Turkish television drama, Noor.

It's a very good quality show, and I can see how it has caught on. The dubbing from Turkish into Arabic is flawless, the actors and actresses are beautiful and the acting is really convincing.

It has become a real phenomenon. The street markets sell "Noor" T-shirts, posters and other souvenirs -- usually of the male lead, Mohaned.

Every night, I return home at 10 p.m. to watch a new episode of Noor to see what will happen next. Will Mohaned leave his current wife for his former wife whom he thought was dead after she fell into a coma after a car accident?

It's very juicy stuff.

In one episode, one of the female stars gets out of bed in the morning after her former husband stays the night. When she gets up, she's wearing a bathrobe that goes down to her ankles. The man wakes up next to her fully clothed -- even wearing his shoes.

One evening, I turned to my landlady, and said, "Have you noticed that no one in this show ever kisses? And how many people in real life go to bed fully clothed?"

Well, I guess that's what a TV show is for -- escapism from real life, or something... I just heard the ringtone of the Noor theme song at a nearby table.

21-07-08

I’ve been in Damascus for 10 days now, after an absence of precisely 3 years.

It’s nice to be back here. In some ways, it’s like I’ve never left. In other ways, it’s like things have changed, but I haven’t.

For example, I’ve gone to some of my favorite shops and restaurants, and they still serve the same food I love and some of the same staff are there.

On the other hand, when I’ve tried to look up old friends, some have gotten married, had children, and others have left the country – and for some: all of the above.

I’m pleasantly surprised at how much Arabic I remember and how many people speak to me in the local dialect. For that reason, I don’t feel like I’m going through too much of a culture shock.

It’s sticker shock that I’m really going through.

When I arrived at the airport, the taxi fare to the city was triple what it was 3 years ago.

Everything is more expensive. The inflation made me worry that Syrians’ renowned hospitality had become a thing of the past, along with the country’s low prices.

But I quickly found out that some of my favorite places hadn’t raised their prices – the juice bar in Chaalan, Shamiat restaurant in the same neighborhood, and the price of mobile phones has actually decreased.

As for the hospitality, it seems nothing can change that tradition.

Everyone I meet extends an invitation to dinner. The man who sold me my phone card gave me two free converters (American-Syrian plug) and a Nokia phone key chain. When I asked my former landlady about getting my clothes washed at the local laundry shop, she instead took my clothes and did them herself.

I found a simple room to rent for less than I paid during my previous stay. Instead of $100/month, I’m now paying $70. So much for inflation. Actually it’s in a much more modest neighborhood than the Christian Quarter of the Old City.

Before I rented the room, a Palestinian friend warned me about my new neighborhood, saying, “Don’t rent in Dwaylaa.” She described it a refugee camp, but without the UN services.

Well, here I am in the ghetto, even by Third World Standards. I stay in a simple room, where I sleep on a metal cot. I take cold showers, which I now find refreshing.

I’ve found a place I can afford, and that makes me happy.

My one complaint right now is the hot weather.

I really, really can’t wait until fall. The heat is almost unbearable. It’s nearly 6 p.m. right now, and I’lm still using the fan.

I’m trying to keep myself busy by doing as many articles as possible so that I’ll forget about the heat. But writing articles means taking buses all over town, which also means sharing lots of cramped rides with lots of other sweaty people.

Well, I’m off to buy a bottle of water. It’s too hot to stay here and get thristy.

24-07-08

I’ve just returned to my third monastery visit. This time it was to Saydnaya.

Like everywhere else here, the hospitality was remarkable – even when I might have been too aggressive by American standards.

When I interrupted the nuns during their lunch hour to request an interview, they served me the most fantastic lunch: tabouleh, fasulia, rice and salad. When I interviewed a family having a picnic behind the monastery, they gave me their phone numbers and asked me to visit them where they live on Mount Hermon. When I was walking through someone’s backyard to get a good photo of the monastery, the owner of the house pulled up on his motorycle and invited me to sit with his family in their courtyard. This was followed by a request that I promise to visit them the next time I was in town.

There’s something about spending all day in the sun to get good quotes and good pictures. My work was already rewarded before I even filed the article.

If the harsh desert climate here is what brings people together, then maybe the heat isn’t such a bad thing after all.