Our First Stop in England

Monique and I had very few set plans for our stay in the United Kingdom. We decided early on to just wing it and go whereever the road (and map) may lead us. We were first led to Oxford.

It is absolutely a university town. There were students everywhere and the place bustled with activity because of it. I was struck by the beauty and noticed some similarity to Boston.

We watched crew teams practice on the Thames. . .

. . . and enjoyed fish and chips at the Cock and Camel (strange name, questionable service, GREAT food).
We strolled through Oxford's campus and enjoyed the sunset. By this time, the memory of brutal customs agents was a distant memory.

Welcome to the UK!

After an 8-hour overnight stay in Paris, I headed off to my next destination - the United Kingdom. I flew to London Heathrow in order to meet my friend Monique, whose flight from Los Angeles would arrive shortly after mine. Boy, that sounds so easy now that I write it. It wasn't quite that way.

I walked to customs with the thought I'd sail through and wait for Monique's flight to arrive. After all, this is England. They had barely blinked at me in Paris and Vienna. In fact, I walked into Austria without anyone even checking my passport. Plus, I just came from the Middle East. If I can get in their countries, why should the UK be different? Oh, the arrogance of America rears its ugly head.

The British gentleman at the counter took my passport and began asking a series of questions. "Where are you staying? How much cash do you have in your wallet? Why are you carrying Euro when the UK uses British Pounds? Have you EVER traveled outside the US? What if your friend's plane gets re-routed? Why did you write "unemployed" on the declaration card instead of sabbatical? What the _____ are you doing in my country (well, he didn't say that with words, but it certainly was implied)?" Do you have a clear picture in your minds?

The main issue was I didn't know where I was staying or have necessary phone numbers to prove my stay in the UK was not a threat to the country. I don't remember the last time I felt like such an idiot. He certainly was convinced of his American stereotype and I'm sad to say I didn't do anything to help it. In the end, he let me through, but the damage was done. I journaled for about a half hour to get over that one!

Thankfully, meeting up with Monique after that was a breeze. She shared my experience with customs and so we drown our sorrow with my comfort food - NACHOS.

They look a bit different, don't they? Hey, I was just thankful to be in the country. Later that day we enjoyed a proper English meal of fish, chips and tea.Our next challenge was driving on the other side of the road. We rented an automatic to make our transition a little easier. Monique was the brave one and went first.

It was like being 16 again when you first learn how to drive. Look at Monique doing drivers ed checkpoints. She was a champ!

Here's a glimpse of our first moments on the road.

I did drive toward the end of our first day in England. I made my leg of the trip a quick one by pulling into the first B & B we could find - a total of maybe 15 minutes.

Being in Beirut

The pictures I ever remember seeing of Beirut are bombed buildings, men with guns and desert-looking land. Because of this, I want to show you a different side of the city and listen to your response. This is the view from our room at Hotel Mediterrane on the Corniche. Pretty spectacular, huh?

This is a self-portrait with daytime view of our locale.

Melissa and I took a stroll along the Corniche with her friend Jonathan, who lives in Beirut and showed us around a bit. He's the shadowy figure below.

The atmosphere in Beirut was considerably different than what we experienced in both Jordan and Syria. You know those pictures of Beirut I referred to earlier? Well, I did see buildings which were bombed in the war last August, lots of men with guns and some desert-looking land. Some other observations I made were:

• The French influence evidenced in architecture, number of French-speakers and the language written on signs;
• The Western influence evidenced in style of dress (MUCH less conservative than Syria and Jordan), restaurant chains (KFC, Pizza Hut, Starbucks) and cars driven; and
• English is widely spoken.

Beirut was the only place in the Middle East we visited where I felt a little uneasy. The night we arrived, the bodies of two young males abducted from Beirut were found in the south. This fueled the atmosphere of political uncertainty and increased the number of security checkpoints. Overall, I'm glad to say I've been to Beirut, but it's not a place I plan a return visit.

From Syria to Lebanon

Of all the Middle East travels, our bus ride from Aleppo to Beirut was certainly the most eventful. The day started with our bus getting a late start. Our departure was scheduled for 9:30 AM. We left at 10:15 AM. The bus driver attempted to make up by lost time by driving extremely fast. I can't say for sure what our actual speed was because the needle on the speedometer was missing. Just picture the movie "Speed". I think we actually caught some air on a few of the bumps.

We made a couple stops alongside the road. Here was what one of them looked like.

Funny thing - I didn't SEE any sign for a bus stop. Do you? Also, the passengers we picked up didn't appear to pay any money. Hmmmm. . .

A few kilometers before the Lebanese border, we stopped at a "gas station". I was confused because we had gotten gas about an hour after we left Aleppo. Then I saw that they were siphoning gasoline out of the tank. Oh, the mysteries of Syria.

At the border of Lebanon, we ran into a bit of a language barrier. Our bus drivers and the Syrian customs agents didn't speak English. They kept calling "Suzanne" because it is an Arabic name. I gave them the blank, I-don't-understand stare. It actually became a benefit because we escaped paying any exit tax. The customs agent then walked us across the border. This is what it looked like.

I have a feeling it isn't the main tourist border crossing. It was here that I got my first clear glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea.
The Lebanese officials let us sail through customs and didn't charge us for our visas. God truly gave us favor in this politically unstable country. Isn't it beautiful? The pictures I see of Lebanon are of bombed buildings, not serene terrain.

Outside of Beirut, there were some detours due to road construction. At one of them, our bus driver had an altercation with a Lebanese bus. They yelled at each other in Arabic. From that point on, the Lebanese bus stalked us. He cut in front of us constantly, braked for no reason and waited for us at forks in the road. We were praying without ceasing for God's peace to cut down on the machismo and bring us to safety. Thankfully, He honored those prayers and we made it to Beirut.

Travel in the Arab World

Need I say more? Here is what a typical taxi ride looked like from the front seat. We got REALLY good at it by the end of our stay.

City of Watered Goats

Because of my extended stay in the Middle East, I was able to join my friends on the trek to the ancient Syrian city of Aleppo aka Halab. Halab is Arabic for "place where Abraham watered his goats". It's humble beginning hasn't stopped it from becoming a thriving city. Just last year it was voted the Capital of Islamic Culture.

The main attraction in Aleppo is the Citadel. It was the city center centuries ago. As the teenage daughter of our friends in Aleppo said, "It's just a bunch of rocks." I would say a bunch of very impressive rocks with amazing views of the city.

After exploring the different crevices and enjoying the 360 view of Aleppo, we had some mint tea at an outdoor cafe. At the table next to us was a 70-something couple from Orange, California. They were touring Syria and then on to Iran. Wow! I hope I will be doing the same 40 years from now.

Although I enjoyed my stay in Aleppo, Damascus was the city that captured my heart in Syria.

A Street Called Straight

We took the opportunity to walk down the famous street mentioned in Acts and visit Ananias’s house. On the way, there was a group of boys enjoying an afterschool snack. We stopped to watch the action and joined them in their treat. The man took a ball of dough, rolled it onto a round pillow and transferred it to cook on the open oven. In case you’re wondering, that’s chocolate, not some other foreign substance. It was delicious!

My first look at Ananias's house included a Volvo parked out front. He really was an amazing guy. I do realize he lived about 2000 years ago, but still. It was something to commemorate.

The home is underground due to the number of years which have passed and how they used to build city upon city. This occurred when there was an earthquake or attack on the city.

The home is set up to evoke a sense of reverence for the miracle which took place through Paul’s conversion and Ananias’s faith. Of course, I was a little busy playing with my camera's self-timer in order to get this shot, so I missed out on some of that reverence. Note to self: let go of the photojournalist stuff for important moments such as these.

To continue our time with Paul, we walked a bit further to the place where he escaped Damascus through the city wall. He must have been a man small in stature because the space he fit into was tiny! Here I am attempting to reenact the scene. I don’t think I would have succeeded.