dispatches from here

Where? Surubaya is the second largest city in Indonesia, a congested, crowded, hot, sweaty mess. It was my gateway to Mount Bromo and the Ijen Plateau, home of Kawah Ijen and a completely bizarre sulfuric acid volcanic lake (pics coming soon). Getting to to Probolinggo, the closest big city to Ijen (and still 6 hours away!) led me through the town of Pasuruan, where I stopped to meander around the night market and get some food.

Driving in Surubaya, one of the larger cities on the Indonesian island of Java, is pretty un-nerving. Lights and lanes are only for decoration, as everyone jockeys for an extra inch of space.

The five minute wait for fresh chicken satay is pure torture, exacerbated by the delicious smell and smoke being flapped into your face. Once they're ready, they're coated in peanut sauce, and packaged with a rice ball in a banana leaf. Perfect! Pasuaran street market, Java, Indonesia

Warungs, informal restuarants/food stands are one of the best places to grab a bite of Indonesian food, with literally hundreds to choose from at this night market.

The menu: rice, noodles, and lots of fried things. All delicious. My ordering strategy? Randomly guessing, which almost always leaves with me delicious food (as long as you have an open mind!)

Fresh cooked food served at this open air warung, where the only seating is a flimsy metal counter with a couple of stools. Pasuaran, Java, Indonesia

Chicken and rice, so basic, so common, but somehow, so irresistably delicious. Pasuaran, Java, Indonesia.

A couple sits for a Friday night date at the neighboring warung, with the romantic atmosphere provided by the metal counter, harsh fluorescent light, and with only a hand-painted sheet separating them from the busy street behind them.

Hard at work overseeing the distribution of all things deep fried. And maybe helpig himself to a few bits here and there.

Delicious deserts line the Pasuaran night market, bustling with activity on a Friday night. I couldn't get enough of this sweet chewy sesame coated deliciousness.

I must have eaten dessert six times that night.

Powering these heavy, slowly decaying, home-made bike taxis takes a lot of work, which explains why they're all parked while their drivers sit around and enjoy the warm evening.

Eastern Bali is a mountainous playground with lush green fields terraced into the hillsides. Near the coast, it flattens out and rice paddies grow into the horizon, interrupted only by small villages. I rented a scooter and drove drove drove. Pretty hard to get lost when there’s only one main highway connecting the island.

Short on petrol for your scooter? The only places to re-fuel in this town are roadside stands, selling 1 liter at a time.

Meandering down the street market (is there any other kind?) in Padangbai, East Bali.

Small offerings play an important role in Balinese religion. Too busy to make your own? Swing by the market to pick some up!

This must be a popular shrine, as everyone has jockeyed for a spot to place their offering.

Playground in Padangbai, Bali. I think thats a Mickey Mouse of sorts.

A little pagoda poking out in this quiet little bay, Eastern Bali

Despite the worst drought in 20 years, the Balinese landscape remains lush and green, carefully terraced for farming.

An inactive volcano oversees this fertile valley.

A small plot of farmland has been carved out of the forest, and carefully terraced and tended.

The rice fields of Eastern Bali

The terraced rice fields are tended to by hand and plow, using centuries-old farming methods

Derelict shelter in the middle of Balinese rice fields

Wading into the warm ocean at sunrise for an early morning scuba dive to catch the fish by surprise!

Enjoying the Balinese sunset as slow warm waves lap the beach.

Bali is quiet and relaxing place. And even by those lofty standards, Ubud, the religious and cultural capital of Bali situated in the center of the island, is incredibly mellow. So what better way to take a break from vacation than to spend a few days lounging in Ubud.

But of course, nothing is that simple, not the way I travel. I somehow managed to stumble into the middle of preparations for the annual Spring Full Moon festival. I didn’t exactly understand all of the details of the festival when they were being explained to me, Or course, but at some point hundreds of years of ago some Balinese thieves were trying to steal something of value, which the Gods did not want stolen. So the full moon fell out of the sky and into a nearby tree, illuminating the landscape and revealing their crime. To protect themselves, one of the thieves urinated on the moon (I’m not clever enough to make this up), and extinguished it. Alas, he was too late and they were caught, but in the place of the full moon there was a GIANT drum. Since then, this drum has been enshrined in the temple and every year thousands of people gather to celebrate that event, and the full moon.

At first seeing monkeys run around the temples in Bali is quite exciting. Who doesn't love monkeys? But it quickly becomes routine, and they get bored of protecting their temples from us.

Verdant fields of Ubud, Central Bali, that nearly go on forever.

Balinese religion, a form of Hinduism, which combines theology, animism and ancestor worship, plays an integral role in daily life. Temples are in particularly high density in Ubud, the reilgious center of Bali.

Balinese temples, eerily empty in the mid-afternoon, before the Full Moon Festival

Offerings made to the God and Goddess of fertility in a Balinese Temple in Ubud

Balinese men gather and prepare offerings for the Full Moon Festival, Ubud, Bali

Preparing offerings for the thousands of expected festival participants.

All of the skewers for the satay are lovingly hand carved, one by one. Makes me feel guilty for the 15 pieces of satay I polished off.

Meat preparion on the ground. Oh well, its all gonna be cooked anyway, right?

Making that much satay takes a team, sitting around for hours and telling stories

Thousands gather for the annual Full Moon Festival in Ubud, Bali. Im not sure how, but somehow I stumbled into the middle of the celebration.

After requisite dancing and drumming, the thousands of Balinese men and women parade around the Sacred Drum and Full Moon shrine.

The full moon, making its requisite appearance for the annual spring Full Moon Festival. After all the drumming and parading, everyone sits and stares at the moon.

Gunung Batur (Gunung means mountain) sits in the northeastern corner of Bali, one of the many islands that comprise the Indonesian archipelago. It sits at 5,633 feet. What makes it unique is that it is part of a giant double caldera. A caldera is the geologic term for the hole left in the ground after a volcano collapses on itself. The peak of Batur sits in the middle of a double caldera, an outer caldera which is 13km by 10km and a smaller inner caldera. In addition, there is a huge lake in the inner caldera. The caldera was formed about 28,000 years ago, which is a blink in geological time. And above this all, stands the currently active peak of Batur.

There was a mountain, so I had to climb it. And if I’m going to climb it with all my camera gear on my back, I better get to the top by sunrise right? I was staying in Ubud, about 90 minutes south of Gunung Batur.

Its tough to find your way to the base of a mountain 90 minutes away in a poorly signed country. So before I left San Francisco, I had pre-loaded my iPhone with topographic maps of Bali to use with the onboard GPS. I got on my little scooter, 125cc of fury, and used a ball bungee cord (never travel without them!) to strap my iPhone to my scooter handlebars. Voila, touchscreen GPS navigation in the middle of Indonesia.

The first 60 minutes or so were pretty easy, with GPS and signs, I couldnt go wrong. The last 30 minutes, though, were a different story. First the signs stopped. Then the pavement stopped, and I had muddy dirt roads to deal with, in the dark. Then the roads stopped, and I found myself riding around backyards, farms and fields. I could roughly see the mountain in the moonlight, but I had no idea where to start hiking. You're supposed to hire a guide, and hiking without one is strictly prohibited. Which is of course what I wanted to do. So as I was meandering through someone's backyard at 4am, I came across two teenagers on their way home from some ceremony. After a bit of bargaining, they agreed to take me to one of the trailheads and walk me up part of the mountain. I parked my scooter, dropped a GPS pin so I could find my way back, and set off.

Coming up the mountain was incredibly eerie. Without my head lamp it was dark dark, despite the waxing moon, shrouded in mist coming down the mountain at me. On a volcano behind me, I hear a thunderstorm raging with intermittent lightning lighting up my climb.

Looking across at Lake Batur as dawn creeps up. I still have a few hundred meters of elevation to cover, so I pick up the pace.

Sunrise from the top of Gunung Batur, looking across the inner caldera and Lake Batur, within the volcano. This sunrise was definitely worth getting up at 2am for. And these are the real colors in the real sky, not photoshopped!

The sun rises on Batur, revealing the lush beauty

About 2 hours after sunrise, the fog quickly rolls in, obscuring any potential view.

The fog starts to roll in about 2 hours after sunrise. Not only does it obscure the view of the landscape, it also makes it impossible to find your way back down the mountain with minimal visibility. I guess thats why they make you come with a guide. Lucky for me, I came with my rugged GPS, which recorded a detailed track of my climb up the mountain. All I had to do was follow my own track back, easy as pie!

The outer rim of the caldera is visible in the distance, revealing villages and town inside the caldera.

On my way back to Ubud, Batur is visible behind me. A few hours ago, I was at the top of that pointy bit.

Borneo. I had the chance to enjoy a little over a week on this giant island divided between three nations (Malaysia, Indonesia, and Brunei). I tromped around the Malaysian portion, climbed a mountain and used an offshore oil platform as a scuba diving base to get to Sipadan.

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Mount Kinabalu is the highest peak on the island (13,435 ft) and looms over Kota Kinabalu, the capital of the Malaysian state of Sabah in Borneo. Its a decent two day climb to the summit, but the number of climbers is tightly restricted and the waiting list is at least 3 months long. In my usual fashion, I flew in from Kuala Lumpur with no reservations and no plans. I took a cab to the permit office straight from the airport, bag in tow, hoping for some sort of miracle. And it happened. The woman in line in front of me canceled her permit for the following day, and I was lucky enough to get her spot. Now on to the hotel to unpack and prep for my climb!

Off into the distance stands Mt Kinabalu, menacing, taunting. Staring me down.

The hike is long. But long is ok. What kills is the steepness. The uphill portion...well, the whole thing is uphill. About 99.5% of the trail is uphill. Painful.

Borneo is an incredibly bio-diverse island, with over 4000 species of plants. The first day of hiking feels like you've walked into a pre-historic jungle, with dense trees poking through waves of mist and fog

Halfway up the mountain on the first day with evening clouds rolling in. The true peak is never visible.

At the halfway point, settled in at the camp/lodge. Looking down on the clouds and the rest of the world, from 10,000 feet.

In order to make the summit by sunrise, I got up early and started hiking at 2am. One benefit...with only a few hours of sleep and an early start, your body doesn't have enough time to get sore. That comes later and lasts a week.

3am at 12,000 feet. The sky is amazing with a full moon guiding the hand over hand climb up the side of the mountain. The downside of climbing up a mountain at 3 in the morning? Even with a full moon, its REALLY dark, with the headlamp only lighting up a short distance ahead of you as you climb patiently and painfully into the darkness.

Made it the top an hour before sunrise. Altitude: 4100m according to my GPS. It was hot and sweaty at the base. But the summit is freezing. Even after putting my gloves on, my fingers ache, then get numb, and stop doing what I tell them. It makes using my camera incredibly difficult.

Sunrise from Low's Peak at 4100 meters, seeing individual rays as they peak over the horizon.

Early dawn from Low's Peak on Mt. Kinabalu, overlooking the world below. This is the first time I'm seeing the harsh, barren, bare rock terrain that I spent the last 4 hours climbing in the dark.

My fingers are starting to thaw as the sun wakes up.

South Peak, situated below Low's Peak.

Standing at Low's Peak, overlooking the world below.

As the sun rose behind me, the mountain casts a giant shadow across the Earth.

The barren face of South Peak

Did I mention how steep the climb was? Hard to appreciate in the dark, but looking back up the way I came was a little frightening.

Coming down the mountain gives a consistent feeling of falling off of the face of the mountain onto the little towns below. Maybe this is why my mom gets anxious when I take trips.

It comes in bunches, I suppose. Its somewhat rare to have even a free weekend during internship, and when they arrive they’re called “golden weekends”. But then comes that one elusive month of vacation, randomly assigned, eagerly awaited, and given in one straight chunk. With no idea when my next trip would be after this one, I made sure to maximize it.

I had no real plans in place except for my flights there and back. I took my packed bag with me to work on the day of departure. It had been an unusually busy week at work but at 7pm I was done and on my way out. I changed into street clothes, dumped my scrubs locker room hamper, left the hospital and headed straight to the airport.

The final itinerary? SFO to Las Vegas (for the weekend), then straight to Bali, then Java, Borneo, Singapore, and back to Vegas for another weekend before heading home to SF the night before I had to go back to work.  Pictures and stories to come, as I get to them. Thirty two days of non-stop travel with a camera in hand has left with me way too many pictures to sort through.

Arrived in Bali after a day and half of planes and airports and hopped on a boat for the 45 minute trip to Nusa Lembongan, a small island off the southeast coast. Its relatively under-developed and doesn't have a dock. So we had to jump off the boat and wade ashore, with my camera bag held high over my head hoping for a dry trip. From there I walked a hundred meters up the beach to a little spot called Pondok Baruna and was treated to a room just off the water.

A little bit of afternoon rain, which broke just in time for an excellent sunset. I waded into warm waist deep water for this shot, which was well worth it.

I spent a lot of time scuba diving (lots of underwater photos to come), and with water this warm and clear, visibility was consistently amazing (>30 meters)

Seaweed farming is one of the main sources of income in Lembongan. The seaweed is very sensitive and requires relatively calm waters and consistent temperature and salinity, which are provided by protective reefs.

The seaweed is relatively plentiful, and sells for about 20 cents per pound once dried.

Its easy to walk around the shallows and tide pools, but the smell can be a bit overpowering.

Rising early in the morning to harvest seaweed to avoid the harsh afternoon sun.

Tiny boats meander slowly along the coastline.

Sunrise from Lembongan watching rain drench the Bali mainland ahead.

Sunrise over Dream Beach, Lembongan

A bit of rest on Dream Beach after a long day of scuba diving

The stark contrast between simple dirt streets and elaborate temples all throughout Lembongan

Sunset Beach, Nusa Lembongan, Bali

Sunset Beach, Nusa Lembongan, Bali

The Cairo metro region is home to 18 million people, and probably 20 million by the time you read this. Constant activity, noises, smells, and people, people, everywhere you turn. And every front door and curb and street corner is somebody’s workshop or storefront. Just finding a spot to sit or stand in the chaos feels like an accomplishment.

Hop right on the bus, pay whoever is standing at the door, and watch all the pedestrians pass you by as you sit in standstill traffic.

Who needs a workshop? Sit on a tire in the street.

Delivery skills that put hipster San Francisco bike messengers to shame.

Evidence of a hard day's work.

taking a break from carrying boxes and getting a hard time from his friend.

UPS has nothing on this.

I'm not sure exactly what he fixes at this shop, but I think 'everything' would be a good guess.

the busy street of cairo, where sidewalks are as jammed as the streets.

Awnings for sale. On the side of the street at midnight. This place literally never sleeps.

the only way to get around this place, but I doubt you'd survive. Red lights are only for decoration here.

lots of friendly folks, at least, when they aren't trying to hustle you.

there is not enough time for buses to stop, so you need a running start to get on one.

one of the larger traffic circles in downtown Cairo.

when its time to pray, its time to pray, even if you're hanging out in the shade of a coke machine.

As many of you readers know, I spent the 10 weeks starting Feb 12 in the Middle East, through Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. The core of that time was spent in Syria, living in an Iraqi refugee camp and putting together a documentary film (more on that later).

To keep things interesting and to log my travels, each day I took a photo telling the story of that day somehow. Most of them were done with a tripod and wireless remote, with an occasional bystander snapping the photo. I tried to switch things up, and the fact that I didn’t spend much time in the same place helped out.

Check out the complete slideshow below, 10 weeks of daily photos while bopping around the Middle East.

Hit the play button to get started.

Just catching up, and I may not get a good post in until I get back home.  The next few days entail more ruins/temples in Luxor, a relaxing felucca ride down the Nile, then a hectic taxi+plane+bus+ferry that will hopefully get me into southern Jordan.

Some photos from Giza….pretty unreal overall.  Going inside the Great Pyramid was a little bit underwhelming, but at least now I’ve been inside the Great Pyramid of Giza.  The area around Cairo is littered with pyramids, with lots more to see…hopefully I’ll have a chance to update!

A two day trip up the Lebanese coast to Tripoli followed by a quick hop inland for some wine tasting in Zahle. Tripoli is an ancient Phoenician city dating to before the 7th century BCE.  Since then, its been ruled by the Persians, Seleucids, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Crusaders, Mamluks, and Ottomans.  And it is currently Lebanese, despite Hezbollah attempts to take it over.  In May, 2007 there was fighting between the Lebanese Internal Security Forces and Fatah al-Islam, a jihadist militia focused on the Nahr el-Bared Palestinian refugee camp just outside the town.  This resulted in the deaths of 170 soldiers, 290 militants, and nearly 50 civilians, along with the destruction of the refugee camp. And in 2008, Tripoli was the epicenter for a fierce battle between Sunnis loyal to the current government and Alawites (a Shia sect) loyal to Hezbollah.  The Lebanese Army intervened a few days later to put an end to the fighting, but tensions picked up again in July and over 30 people died in the combined clashes. Check out this map of hte city breakdown.

But for now, in a period of relative peace (despite heavy military presence), Tripoli is a quiet, mellow escape from the glitz of Beirut.

The coastal town of Tripoli, contested but beautiful.

In the evenings, the corniche (aka boardwalk) is packed with families and young folks eating cotton candy, and riding bikes. In the background, young guys drive cruise by in tricked out cars blasting hip hop.

Barrels of Lebanese wine being aged in the caves at the Ksara winery, which was established in 1857 by Christian priests.

Cars and carts selling all sorts of goodies line the corniche.

Never too young for some hookah/sheesha/nargela

The view from my balcony. And I'm not sure who that laundry belongs to.

The Lebanese coast...beautiful, with some limited access in parts.

Lebanon is so radically different from anywhere else in the Middle East and pretty surreal.  A small country with only 4 million people, it continues to trudge on despite a 17 year civil war (1975 – 1992), war with Israel in 2006, and tensions with Hezbollah (most recently leading to armed conflict in the north in 2007).  So what does that mean?  A strong military presence, remnants of the civil war, and every Western luxury you could imagine.

After spending 6 weeks in Syria (in a refugee camp no less!), arriving in Beirut feels like I’m in a different universe.  How different is it from Syria?

• Replace all of the donkeys in the streets of Damascus (there are a lot!)  with Ferraris.
• Replace hijabs and chadors with Prada and Gucci.
• Replace mud covered shoes with shiny high heels.
• Replace sputtering 1975 Fiat taxis with shiny new Mercedes taxis.
• Replace the rust stains on the walls with bullet holes, which decorate any building over 20 years old.
• Replace pictures of the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad, with Hezbollah billboards and pictures of Hassan Nasrallah.
• Replace warm, undrinkable local beers with microbrews and $20 cocktails.
• Replace all of the shawerma with….well, shawerma.  Its still a Middle Eastern country, after all.

A beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean from a balcony in Beirut.

The Lebanese military maintains a heavy presence in the city, with tanks and machine guns on most corners. Its a really bizarre sight seeing a woman walk past a row of tanks into a Chanel store. This is the best shot I could get before being stopped by the soldiers.

Bullet holes in blown out buildings surround the new expensive apartment buildings.

Bullet holes in concrete walls, a constant reminder of the painful civil war that tore Beirut apart for 17 years.

Abandoned buildings converted into an urban canvas.

One of the thousands of armed checkpoints all across the city. Almost as many as Syria.

The southern suburbs of Beirut are essentially controlled by Hezbollah, with yellow and green flags and billboards on every corner and the streets in these poor suburbs are lined with pictures of dead Hezbollah militants.

In the southern Hezbollah controlled suburbs, there are more soldiers/paramilitary forces than civilians it feels.

Remnants of civil war.

The Holiday Inn, which during the civil war was the site of a major battle between Christian and Muslim forces. The blown out shell of this 20+ story building stands right next brand new multimillion dollar condos, modern steel and glass skyscrapers with fancy one word names.

Beirut is surrounded by water on two sides, and the Corniche, a wide pleasant boardwalk provides a hangout place for young Beirutis.

The Mohammad Al-Amin mosque, built next to the burial site of Rafik Harriri, was built in 2008. Ita huge, shiny, new, clean, and feels like it descended from another world. It feels so magical and out of place, almost like a Disney mosque.

Downtown Beirut is all glitz and glam, and Ferraris are a dime a dozen. I almost got run over by one twice! Porsches, Lamborghinis, Bentleys line the narrow streets of the trendiest neighborhoods as moneyed Beirutis drink and party at bars that rival NYC in exclusivity, with overpriced cocktails, hip sounding names like "Copper" and "Rehab", and lines around the block.

The American University of Beirut (AUB) is one of the most prestigious universities in the Middle East.  Established by American missionaries in 1866, this place is completely awesome and feels like any US college campus.  Note to any college students reading this: do a semester abroad here.  All of the classes are taught in English and you hear English and French chatter all over campus.

Modern buildings, spotlessly clean campus, water fountains, the works.

Gorgeous athletic fields overlooking the Mediterranean Sea

Inside the Bechtel Engineering Building...we have a Bechtel building at Cal as well, but its not as nice as this one.

Amazing! It seems like 95% of the Middle East consists of chain smokers. Impressive to have a smoke free campus.

I'd definitely want to do a semester here!

Part of the campus square, with students constantly milling about. The whole campus feels so alive and really indistinguishable from a college campus in the US.

A beautiful mix of ultra modern and classic brick buildings.

Falling a little behind on the blog because life has been moving pretty quickly, bouncing around between countries, and working on the documentary project. But fortunately, I’ve continued the journal, which is really starting to look and feel awesome.

Great party, celebrating, singing and dancing in the hills of Eastern Syria on a gorgeous day.  Exactly what Kha B’Nisan should be about. It definitely felt a little magical to be able to celebrate it here in Syria, especially because my undergrad honors thesis was about the development of the New Year’s Festival (Akitu) throughout Mesopotamia.

The satellite view of the Eastern Syrian Desert. There's basically lots and lots of sand and rocks, and the green strip bisecting it is the Euphrates river. Seen from above, you can really appreciate how important it has been throughout antiquity and how it was able to sustain civilization for thousands of years.

On our way to the eastern Syrian town of Hassake, we stopped over in a small town on the Euphrates River called Dier as-Zur for the night.  This has got to be one of the dustiest places I have ever been, with a fresh daily 3mm coat of dust on everything in sight once the sun sets and the winds pick up. It actually hurts to breathe in the evenings and visibility is minimal.

During the day we wandered down to the banks of the Euphrates River and had a chance to see one of the two rivers that defined Mesopotamia and gave birth to the ‘fertile crescent’ and the first civilizations of the ancient Near East.

I came across a group of local kids swimming in the river and couldn’t pass up an opportunity for a baptism in the Euphrates.  Relatively clean water, cool and crisp, wide and slow moving.  A swim in the Euphrates is definitely an unforgettable experience.

The Euphrates at Dier Az Zur. This used to be an old Assyrian village many generations ago (the name means 'Small Church'), but there aren't any left there now. In the 1990's it turned in a boom town when oil was found nearby. Local kids were jumping off the bridge into the river, a temptation I was able to avoid. Those splashed in the river are me...swimming against the slow current.

Swimming with the local kids in the Euphrates!

Bedouin tents and families are sparsely scattered across the Syrian desert.  Although no longer living as traders and nomads, their homes and dress haven’t changed much and you’ll still see an occasional camel.

Bedouin tent in the desert, just off the side of the ruins in Palmyra

After a week and half of non-stop interviewing, filming, photographing, editing and translating, the project is nearly complete. In addition to the photodocumentary project I came here to do, I’ve joined forces with Adam Teale to wrap the photos in a short documentary film format. With the bulk of the work behind us, a first draft of the video completed and reviewed, we decided to leave Damascus and continue exploring Syria. Damascus definitely has a different feel and atmosphere from the rest of Syria. It’s a harsh, mean city where everything you try to do is a serious chafe and it seems everyone is out to get you. It didn’t help that I was living in the refugee camp, which is even worse than the rest of Damascus. After my fourth week there, I’m pretty excited to get out.

I’ve been pretty busy in Damascus with project related work. Aside from the refugee health project, I’ve also been working on my MD thesis, which is the physician workforce distribution and health policy research I did in the year between my third and fourth years of med school. The refugee health project is nearly complete, I just submitted the final version of my thesis (from Damascus and before the deadline!), and now I feel hugely relieved and free to travel.

Our first stop was Palmyra, about 4 hours by bus from Damascus and one of the most impressive archaeological sites in Syria. Although its mentioned in Assyrian texts from Mari dating to the 2nd millennium BCE, it was incorporated into the Seleucid Empire in the second century AD, and later grew in prosperity under Roman rule.

Riding through four hours of flat, barren desert to Palmyra. Eastern Syria really looks like the photos that the Mars Rovers send back.

Sunset in the desert

The Temple of Bel! The god after whom I was named...I wasn't sure if I should pray here, or wait and be prayed to...so I just took pictures instead.

I’m back in Damascus after an excellent, well needed week away in Aleppo (Halab in Arabic). I’m also at about the halfway point, and have met three major milestones:

1. I’m no longer afraid to take pictures.  It took me a full five weeks to get back to my old self.
2. My Arabic has improved to the point where I can read the signs on buses fast enough to flag down the right one before it blurs by.
3. I have had the best shawerma of the trip so far, in a little town called Afamea, about 100m south of the intersection that leads up to the ruins.

The trip also took an interesting turn in the cafe attached to a little hotel in Aleppo. I met Adam, a fed-up-with-the-man, job-quitting, TED-talking, Mac-toting, 300 video-editing, world-traveling, open-source Australian. We spent two days visiting Roman, Byzantine, and Hittite ruins, taking videos and photos (which will be up soon).  He’s also much faster at updating his blog than I am, so check it out for some more photos (I make a cameo appearance, fancy that!).  He’s inspired me to take more videos to go along with my project, and I may have inspired him to join me in the refugee camp in Damascus to collaborate. Maybe we can put together something impressive.

Hitching a ride through the Syrian countryside

No crosswalks, no stoplights, no patience. Only one rule: use your horn as often as you possibly can.

My life flashes before me every time I try to cross the street

But up close, they look so harmless

Traffic police: not there.

Yes, those are chunks of cheese. And yes, they live in very old, dirty, rusty barrels.

Really puts the overpriced olive bar at Whole Foods to shame

Before the rain over Aleppo

Fresh fruit in the Aleppo souq

A pancake-a-teer

A pyramid of cumin, decorated with paprika and salt

the nut store.

Child labor: working the sewing machine at midnight.

Shoe repair outside the souq. There are about 40 of these guys spaced every six feet.

Fresh fruit juice! I always stop for a tall cold glass of freshly pressed blood-orange juice.

A little beard trim before Friday prayers

Seems he has some fans out here.

Yup, that goes there.

Cinema with awesome movie poster art

Soccer at the Aleppo Citadel

Super tiny Chinese buses that wait until 12-15 people pack inside before taking off

Hitching a ride to Qala'at as-Samaan. From L to R, Adam, me, Muhammad, Muhammad, and Ahmed. Seriously.