vid erum latir i laos,,,

what's the day? what are you doing? how's your mood?


madur spyr sig, eh?

gum.

sleepless in saigon,,,

,,, eg vitna i tessa mynd einungis vegna titilsins - til ad hafa tad a hreinu, ta er eg alls ekki addaandi tom hanks en verd ad vidurkenna ad stundum kemur fyrir ad eg hef gaman af romantiskum gamanmyndum.

dvol okkar i saigon vard toluvert lengri en vid gerdum rad fyrir; einfaldlega vegna tess ad borgin er mjog lifleg og skemmtileg. her er agaetis urval af sofnum og stendur sennilega stridsglaepasafnid upp ur - i raun einskonar arodur a moti bandarikjaher og sudur-vietnomum tar sem ekkert er to minnst a stridsglaepi nordursins. safnid samanstendur ad mestu leiti af mognudum en atakanlegum frettaljosmyndum og ymsum mynjum, s.s. vopnum og klaedum en einnig er ad finna vidbjod eins og 'napalm' - vanskopud fostur i glerkrukkum og nakvaema eftirlikingu af 'tigris-burunum' sem voru pyntingafangelsi sudur-vietnam og fremur nakvaemar myndir af pyntingum eru ad finna. madur undrar sig alltaf a hugmyndaflugi folks - og ad taer skuli virkilega verid framkvaemdar.

cholon heitir hverfi tar sem ibuar af kinverskum uppruna rotta sig saman; trodnar gangstettir, gotusalar sem bjoda upp a allskonar ometi, pagodur (alveg eins og taer sem vid sjaum i kinverskum kung fu myndum) og falleg fronsk nylenduhus. og ef vid urdum treyttir a of asiskri stemningunni lag leidin i midbaeinn tar sem skyjakljufar planta ser vid hlid franskra glaesihusa og folk gengur i gucci og vuitton. en besta leidin til ad upplifa saigon var ad finna ser vespubilstjora, benda handahofskennt a kortid og tjota svo aftan a motorhjoli i kaotiskri umferdinni um goturnar - sem eru taktar arodursplakotum og myndum af ho chi minh fraenda!

vid kynntumst a fyrsta degi tveimur bretum, ken & phil, sem vid forum med i nokkrar havisindalegar naeturklubbsferdir. teir eru badir busettir i japan og kveiktu satt ad segja mikinn ahuga a tvi ad hoppa bara upp i vel og lenda i tokyo - en kannski tad se bara a listanum fyrir naesta haust?

saigon er frabaer, fyrir utan fyrrnefnda hluti, ta ma ekki gleyma teirra stadreynd a vietnamsk eldhus er gedveikt, vietnamskt kvennfolk er gullfallegt og vietnamska rikisstjornin er kommunisk. tad sem komid er af ferdinni ta er tetta min uppahalds borg, reyndar asamt damaskus - en taer eru svo olikar ad ekki er haegt ad setja taer i sama flokk.

eftir orfaa tima tekur vid rutuferd til hoi an - litill baer vid midbik landsins sem a ad vera ofbodslega fallegur, sjaum til - eg aetla ad sofa nuna!

gum.

In and out of the Wild West

Well there is definitely a story to be told, hopefully in as much detail as I can remember. In order not to repeat the same mistake of writing after such a long time I am going to begin with Saigon, the most recent city where we have been for two days, while it's still as fresh in my memory as possible and then continue with as thorough an account of the past two weeks as I can.

Saigon

As I have done in every country so far on this trip I began reading a book that relates to the destination ahead. Graham Greene's Quiet American was next on the list because it is predominantly situated in Saigon, more specifically in the Hotel Continental. We took a semi-comfortable bus (our concept of comfort has dramatically altered since we left Europe) and rolled into Ho Chi Minh city. As I read I suggested to Gummi that we book at least two nights at the Continental to take a rest from the 2 $ rooms we stayed in in Cambodia. We arrive at the bus station and before our bags are in our hands and our cigarettes are lit we are approached by a legion of taxi drivers. We haggle for a bit, we have become increasingly good at it, and mount two motorbikes with our bags. Saigon, unlike the other cities where motorbikes dominate the road, has a ratio of about 50 bikes to every car. The traffic can only be described as chaotic order. That paradox means that although the traffic comes from every side and against the normal flow, there seems to be order and fluidity in the chaos. The motorbikes on the road drive so close that we could have 'high fived' every passing driver, and Gummi and I did while cruising at 50 kmph. We come to the Continental that unfortunately has recently been renovated and become a 4 star tourist spot, devoid of the 60's Saigon journalist charm I should have anticipated didn't exist anymore. The prices are ridiculous and I imagine a hundred dollars are added to each room because of it's past reputation. We go up to the bar, order two Saigon beers and think about where else we should go. We decide to just walk around until we come across a reasonably high priced comfort hotel and find one. After the first hot shower in weeks, no sign of rats, mice, cockroaches, ants, grasshoppers, dogs, spiders, beetles or any other undesired room accessories we had grown so accustomed to in Cambodia we head out. We pulled the 'white card' and strolled into the Sheraton in white shirts like we owned the place, had a drink on the roof we an extraordinary view over Saigon and later had dinner and came back. We opened the bar situated in our room, flipped through cable television and fell asleep to a sitcom and air conditioning. Just lovely.
Today we woke up late in the morning and headed for the Revolutionary Museum. Saigon is lively, more modern than I remember Hanoi having been and relatively clean. We saw the Ho Chi Minh City Museum, the Notre Dame and the horrible War Crimes Museum. Nothing exceeded the other in terms of splendour, especially not the French colonial architecture which is absolutely everywhere, except the War Crimes Museum. After Cambodia I would have thought I had grown numb to histories horror, at least partly. I'll talk about that later, but the War Crimes Museum is not as much a museum as it is a series of pictures that will turn Jean Claude Van Damme into a weeping little child. I go as far as to say that Chuck Norris, who's tears cure cancer (it's a shame he's never cried) would have broken down and cried desperately for his mothers warmth while curled up in a fetal position. Pictures of Agent Orange victims, marines toying with torn bodies and even jars with mutated deformed babies. Although horror shouldn't be made competitive between one country and another, this matches the horrors of Cambodia. We shook hands, or what was left, of a man who had nothing but soft stumps were his elbow used to be. Dejected with our stomachs turned inside out we decided to retreat to our little 50 $ safe haven, pulled out millions of Vietnamese Dongs and walked back. Now we are here.

Thailand

The last night we spent in Thailand on the island Koh Chang was in an Irish Pub. This seems absurd given that we were on a beautiful tropical island but it's also misleading. The owner of the Pub had set up a comfortable row of decent rooms for only a few dollars a night. The pub was a minute away and I really enjoyed a glass of Guinness with my full English breakfast before we left for Cambodia. So much for Thailand. The bus ride and the visa check at the frontiers in the north are not worth describing. However the second we entered Cambodia we were very obviously in another world altogether.

Cambodia... The Heart of Guns, Girls & Ganja

As soon as we arrived at Poipet, a casino town where Thais come to gamble and drink, the roads disappeared and the world seemed a little more rugged. I asked my driver where I could go to the bathroom and he answered 'there' pointing at some vegetation a metre away from the customs office. Seeing that I would get little help from him I walked into the next fancy casino since peeing was not all that was needed. As I enter the whore filled, drunken scene inside the casino I noticed a sign, one of hundreds that I saw in Cambodia, asking me politely to not bring grenades or weapons inside. Fair enough, I had left mine behind so I went in. When I came out the driver bade us follow him to what can only be described as a large piece of metal on, I assume, four wheels. We boarded and left. We were told by our new driver, a drunk man with a steel penis on his keychain, while peeing out of where the door should have been that the 150 km journey would take a little more than six hours. This was because the road, or where the road once was, was so full of dust and pot holes that we could go no faster than 20 kmph. On our way we saw an abundance of CPP signs, The Cambodian Peoples Party, naked children, shacks and flooded marshland. I was reading a book, appropriately called 'Off the rails in Phnom Penh, into the heart of Guns, Girls and Ganja and so I read and picturing the society depicted in the book all of a sudden didnt seem so difficult
We come to Siem Reap, book ourselves into the most expensive room of the entire Cambodian trip (6$) and after dodging cockroaches and showering with v. cold water we go downstairs onto the veranda for a meal. Before we have asked about the plans for the following day we are asked very directly if we want girls, drugs or guns. We politely decline the drugs and the girls but an interest in guns awakens in me. After all, I have watched an AK 47 on screen since I can remember, read about it in history books and fiction and I MUST try it. He arranges for me to go shoot... but is a little down that we two aren't in the mood for 'boom boom' and drugs. We meet the other residents most of whom where on the ride with us from Thailand. There is an Irish couple, a swiss, English and French guy and some Cambodians. We pool our plans together for Angkor Wat, the temple ruins that we came originally to see, and then pool our interest in a wild night together. All of us get on motorbikes, Gummi and I on one (in Cambodia like in Vietnam one will see up to five people together on one bike, including infants, none wearing a helmet, says the over protected Icelandic guy). We go out, have fun.
The following day we wake up early to tour the Angkor temples, a world wonder. The temples are amazing and despite the heat and uncomfortable presence of lead in our heads after the previous night we can hardly speak because of what we see. A little girl comes up to us asking us to buy some water from her. I tell her that I'm not thirsty and then I lie that I'll return tomorrow. She says that there is only sorrow tomorrow if I don't buy water from her and a little confused at the girls level of english (she was about four) I buy water from her, leaving with my tail between my legs. I have never been very fond of emotional blackmail but in Cambodia I had my hands repeatedly in my pockets giving money away or tipping v. v. generously. After all, a dollar is money to them while it will get me a tenth of a packet of smokes or a tenth or a beer back home.
The thing that threw me off balance during my stay in Cambodia was the willingness the people had to speak and get to know you, with no reservations or apparent regret of answering my questions about the auto genocide there and Pol Pot. Everyone we encountered had had family or friends murdered by the former regime but didn't sound unwilling to talk about it. Anyway, we spent a few days in Siem Reap, went to the war museum and the floating market where we held some large snakes and then ate them, went to the killing fields of the north and saw a monument erected with large windows, filled inside with skulls of many thousands of Cambodians.
I went to shoot and a part of me must have either died or been born with that experience. I arrive at some place outside of town to a wall of guns. They offer me grenades, rocket launchers and a cow that will cost me an extra 100 dollars but I get to kill it any way I choose, and eat it afterwards for no extra cost. I haven't gone Rambo enough to shoot a cow (although I could pick the Rambo Gun on the wall) and so I choose my AK 47, lock and load and fire. The noise is deafening, the force is trying and once I switched to automatic I just sprayed everywhere. The rush went to my head and I hurried off to the wall, picked out a 50's Chicago mobster Tommygun and loaded it up. That was even more of a thrill and I had no intention of stopping. Next on the list was an Uzi and last a simple colt 45. Good fun and now I'm a hundred dollars poorer.
We left Siem Reap for Phnom Penh, the capital. Phnom Penh was a different story altogether. It had much more of a metropolitan feel to it, vibrant and beautiful. we past some avenues such as Charles de Gaule, Mao and Kim Il Sung Ave., a swarm of motorbikes left and right and neon lit bars and clubs in certain areas. The great monuments were also brightly lit, the fountains and the overall look was promising. We had been picked up at the bus station, the French guy, the English guy and us, and were driven into the backpacker heart of Phnom Penh, by the lake. For four dollars a night we found a great place on the lake and settled in. Again we were asked if we desired some company with the opposite gender or guns, which we declined, but as for the drugs, there was obviously plenty in circulation among the locals and tourists. We grew to love that little guesthouse because of their unbelievable kindness and spirit and met many people there. A guy our age, who worked there and went by the name Chili, didn't do much apart from smoke weed and drink from morning till midnight and despite wanting to go clubbing with us, was always stone cold out by ten.
In Phnom Penh we stayed four nights, saw the temples and the Royal Palace, the markets and the city life and each of the above was equally impressive. The thing that has permanently left some tear in our heart was the killing fields, and the Tuol Sleng prison. We saw methods of torture that we had never before imagined, cells of a metre by metre, and room after room of faces. The Face Rooms almost made me cry, I had to walk around with my sunglasses on to conceal the tears. All the walls, including displays on board in the centre, had mug shots of the victims before their detention. Children, women, men, the old... mugshots of everyone completely expressionless, all facing directly forward, made the rooms ghost like. The Killing Fields had billboards were the statistics of the murders were recorded, pictures and information on how they were tortured, murdered and buried in detail. A monument was erected with the skulls and bones that had been excavated and they were in the thousands.
Apart from the horror and grotesqueness of the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng, Phnom Penh was great and I intend on returning.
From Phnom Penh we went to the coast, a beach town called Sihanoukville. We arrived at the Bus station and were greeted by motorbike drivers and heavy rain. We got on some motorbikes and drove around at night, down badly lit streets, sometimes flooded, in the rain until we found a guesthouse with 2 $ rooms. We didn't explore Sihanoukville, we just stayed on the beach drinking cocktails, playing pool and jet skiing. We met some interesting characters there such as John, the Lebanese UN worker. John had a story to tell, especially of murdering people and after I voiced my disbelief in his line of work he asked me to open his small black fannypack. In there was a gun, some ammunition and some business cards. We chatted for a while and after having made friends, made clear when he let me hold his gun, we went into deep political discussions on the Middle Eastern situation. He gave us his email and business card, clearly stating that he was a Close Protection Officer although I am aware that those can easily be manufactured illegally and before he left, he showed us his interest in photography, and I quote 'My second hobby after killing people is just photography'. The Wild West is what Cambodia is
The last night in Sihanoukville was unimaginable and in retrospect, unbelievable. We were on the beach at night drinking and smoking and meanwhile there is a lightning show in the sky. The lightning literally came every five seconds but still no thunder. Then in an instance some downpour of biblical proportion fell on us, the lightnings came closer and thunder shook as if we were in Baghdad the very first days of the airstrikes. I sprang to my feet into my trunks and dove into the ocean along with some French people. After about twenty minutes thunder struck with such immense force that the entire beach' electricity went cold. Candles were lit and the only sound was the storm above me. There on the beach, waist deep in 26 degree water, Mai Tai in my hand I felt historical. The next day we had had enough, returned to Phnom Penh by bus to the same guesthouse where we were greeted like locals by the owners, stayed two nights not leaving except for the occasional internet trip to maintain some correspondence with our worried parents and now we are in Saigon.

There is a lot I haven't mentioned because I can't recall right now or because some details need not be expressed on a blog read by family. But the Wild West that is Cambodia, it's smiling poverty stricken people's and their torn & forgotten history and the comfort life that can be led here for a few dollars makes me understand how people get stuck here. But don't want to now. I look forward to Viet Nam, Laos, Chine (our new plan) and eventually meeting my father in India.

Thats all for now, I will do my best to write more!

Behave

Rutur

''Saigon,,,

,,, shit. I'm still only in Saigon. '' - sagdi Kapfteinn Willard i upphafssenu Apocolypse Now!, rett eftir ad tykkur frumskogur einhversstadar i deltunni hafdi ordid fornarlamb napalm-sprengju. andskotinn, eg er i Saigon.

allt i godu, gerum tetta i rettri rod - utbuum samhengi; i sidasta taetti la finnbogi rutur solbrunninn i strakofa a eyju rett sunnan vid thailand a medan hasarhetjan og mannvinurinn gudmundur vestmann sat kofsveittur vid tolvuna og hamradi lyklabordid. & nu heldur sagana afram;

kambodia er land sem er ber sogu sina a herdum ser; eitt sinn heimsveldi sem byggdi undarverd mannvirki og hellt indokina i lofa ser & sidar 50 ar mettud af valda- og landranum, spillingu, grofum tjodarmordum, stridi, fataekt og vosbud. pol pot, brodir numer eitt i raudur kamerunum, sa til tess, i hraesni sinni og gedsyki, ad landid og folk tess yrdi sett aftur a reit numer eitt i leiknum. allt tad sem nutimasamfelag telur til gilda sinna og i raun allt tad sem ser nutima samfelaga hefur upp a ad bjoda, var rustad. & tetta saum vid um leid og vid skiptum um rutu vid landamaeri landanna tveggja, t.e. kambodia og thailand. eftir anaegjulega ferd um vegi sem lagu um tetta skoga og i kringum fjoll beid okkar eymd nidursodin i dos - eda eins og rutur kallar tad, nordur-koreaskur bjor. tarna var folk a droslast um med heimsmidadar vidarkerrur, hladnar hlutum sem vid kollum drasl, a moldarvegum. & samt var tetta ekki eins og okkur hafi verid teytt aftur i timann. thailenskir peningamenn saum ser faeri og logdu tonokkud fe i ad byggja spilaviti vid malarveginn hinum megin vid landamaerinn tar sem tau eru logleg og tvi algjorlega surrealiskt astand vid tessi blessudu landamaeri! karlar med myndarlega bumbu ad eyda arslaunum folksins med vagnanna a broti ur sekundu.

tessi taepa 150 km leid sem vid attum framundan, til afangastadarins Siem Reap (t.e. angkor), tok okkur rumar sex klukkustundir. einfaldlega sokum tess ad veginn var ekki haegt a kalla veg. i oggulitilli sovieskri rutu vid hlid sveitts breta i 6 klukkustundir. og vegurinn lag medfram skurum, sem ekki er haegt ad kalla skura, tar sem nakin born hlupu um og gamlir menn rendu fyrir fisk i vidbjodslegu vatninu. 6 klst,,, tad er kvart-dagur, ef svo ma segja - og var tvi sjokkid mikid. eftir a ad hyggja, ahugavert - en a tessum klukkustundum, serstaklega eftir ad hafa lesid sogu tessa lands, verkjadi mig ad innan.

hreint og odyrt herbergid var tvi vel tegid - & minnumst ekki a bar fullan af exotiskum bjor. kvoldid for i spjall vid einstaklega fyndinn (og storundarlegann) svisslending sem gekk undir nafninu laurens og irska vini hans - og oteljandi bod um eiturlyf, stelpur og skotvopn. hversu freystandi taer freystingar voru, ta letum vid taer a.m.k. eiga sig - stor dagur framundan og tvi otarfi ad taka of storan skammt, fa sjukdom og skotsar.

a 13. old eftir krist redi khmer-veldid yfir mest ollum sud-austur skaganum og var angkor-svaedid 'rom' teirra. i dag standa enn tessi fjolmorgu hof og hallir og eru frekar vel vardveittar - og ef meira fjarmagn vaeri til i landinu vaeri sennilega haegt ad hressa tonokkud upp a 'rustirnar'. en enn og aftur er saga landsins skrifud a hvern vegg og ma audveldlega sja ummerki raudu kameranna a angkor-svaedinu - allar truarlegar styttur eru annadhvort hauslausar eda horfnar, tru var bonnud a arunum '75 - '79. angkor wat, sem er langstaersta hofid, er eitt af nyju sjo undrum heims - og undravert er tad. merkilegt hvernig sagan a tad stundum til ad fylla mann af minnimattarkennd. seinni dagurinn i siem reap for ad mest ollu leiti i ad skoda og velta fyrir ser hraedilegum verkum khmer rouge - sja 'aflifunar-vellina' og stridssafnid. tetta er saga sem hreinlega gnystir i mann og lamar.

eftir toluvert anaegjulegri ruturferd til phnom penh var komid ad kvoldi og tvi ekki mikid gert annad en a glapa a imbann og lesa. og svo for fyrsti dagurinn i phomn pehn satt ad segja i tad sama og sa sidasti i siem reap - i ad veslast halfpartinn upp. vid eyddum taepum tveimur timum tuol sleng-fangelsinu, sem nu er ordid safn en er auk tess lifandi daemi um hrodaverk, mord og pyntingar kameranna, og 'aflifunar-vallana' tar sem eru teir staerstu (og jafnfram hryllilegustu) i landinu. tusundir beina og hauskupna - og svo toku bolvadir fantarnir myndir af ollum fornarlombum sinum adur en tau voru drepin. einungis myndirnar sem eru til synis eru i tvi magni ad haegt vaeri ad veggfodra hallgrimskirkju ad innan med teim.

en phnom penh er margt meira en hryllingssaga. borgin er idanadi af mannlifi, kaotiskri umferd, framandi mat, skemmtilegu folki, audvita lika byssum, vaendiskonum, dopi - en auk tess alls, tilvalinn stadur til tess ad taka tvi einfalega bara rolega. tvi foru fimm heilir dagar i tad ad skoda toluvert faerra en vid hefdum viljad og aetludum okkar og toluvert meira i ad hangsast um a 'no problem' gistiheimilinu okkar vid vatnid og spila billiard vid hinn si-fulla starfsmann chi li og supa angkor-bjor.

sihanoukville var sidasti afangi ferdarinnar okkar i kambodiu. fallegur strandbaer fullur af turistum, saetum stelpum og strondum og tokum vid tvi einfaldlega upp fyrra liferni okkar - i tetta sinn to a strond. gistum a fremur hippisku gistiheimili - og eins og flest allt i kambodiu, ta er varla haegt a kalla tetta gistiheimili, frekar skur! i baenum hittum vid m.a. john, libani sem vann fyrir sameinudu tjodirnar, sem sagdi ad hitt ahugamalid sitt, fyrir utan ad skjota folk, vaeri ljosmyndum - en tetta er einhver uturdur sem haegt vaeri ad sleppa!

kambodia hefur upp a margt ad bjoda - her eru tomar strendur og eydieyjur, gonguleidir um frumskoga og fjoll. en tad verda ar tangad til ad landid verdur i raun turistavaent, eins og granni teirra thailand. i fyrsta lagi orogrui af landsprengjum en landid likist sennilega of mikid vilta vestrinu - vopnadir 'utlagar', oheft skotvopnaeygn og mikil 'tillitssemi' stjornvalda til eiturlyfjanotkunar. eg kem aftur - en tad munu lida tuttugu ar. eg hef sed landid oheflad og vona einfaldlega ad tad nai ser a strik.

med stuttu stoppi i phnom penh lag leid okkar til saigon, fyrrverandi hofudborg fyrrverandi sudur-vietnam. a fyrsta kvoldi var fundinn randyr sushi-stadur til tess ad snaeda a og ad rolt um midborgina sem litur ut eins og braedingur af paris og new york med dassi af tridja heims stemningu! gullfallegar asiskar stelpur aftan a motorhjolum hja omyndarlegu gummitoffurum - iss!, bara ef taer vissu hvad vid skandinaviu-prinsarnir hefdum upp a ad bjoda,,,

her for eg yfir strikid,
afsakid mig,
laet mer tetta ad kenningu verda,
gum.

Vikings lured to the jungles off the coast of Thailand

We have decided to prolong our stay on this beautiful island by another day. We want to return to the beach in the south, see some of the islands waterfalls and temples but all apart from cultural justifications, we just want to stay here longer. The food is good and cheap, the weather is great and we'd like to lie in peace on the beach and read. Curiously enough I thought I would be immobile today because of my lobster-like skin colour but it turned out in my favour. The red has subsided and with some good luck out of the faded red will emerge some tan!
We have a lizard in our room who I've named Cornelius on account of his apparent wisdom and sense of control. Yfirvegud edla. He stays in the same place in the top right corner of our bungalow, and to remind us of his control he makes weird lizard howls. always three in a row. Gummi isn't as fond of Cornelius as I am but indisputably he is the Lizard King of Bungalow # 5.

Next post probably from Cambodia, but maybe we might just settle down here.

Rutur

furduheimur en sidar paradis,,,

ja - bangkok er vissulega furdulegur stadur. vid eyddum fyrstu tveimur dogunum okkar tar, i omenningunni i kringum khao san road, sem er skemmtilegur og liflegur stadur - en treytandi til lengdar. reyndar tvaeldumst vid um kinahverfid i bland og forum i dyragard, saum hvita bengaltigra og tvaer ofbodslega heimskar hyenur sem virtust ekki atta sig a tvi ad taer voru fastar inn i buri og gengu tvi stodugt i hringi. tetta var to tad sennilega tad produktivasta sem vid gerdum tessa tvo dagana.

douglas, fyrrum herbergisfelagi okkur fra amman, let svo sja sig a tridja degi (skemmtileg tilviljun hvernig ferdalog okkar virdast allt enda a sama stadnum) og markadi tad sennilega upphaf menningarlegra skodunarferda um borgina. vid forum med honum i steikjandi hita og 70% raka, a bat ad hallarsvaedinu, eda grand palace, sem var undravert. halfgert safn af gylltum og diteiludum buddistahofum og konungshollum. a veggjunum i kringum svaedid er einskonar myndasaga, voldugar verndarstyttur vid alla innganga, gull, postulin - erfitt ad gripa tetta, einfaldlega vegna fjolbreytileika. eftir goda 3 eda fjora tima var lagt i leidangur inn i indverskahlutan i leit af 'chicken-korma', sem med miklu harki fannst. naesti dagur snerist heldur ekki um khao san - vid skodudum wat pho, sem er hof (reyndar fjoldi teirra) og kruna svaedisins er an efa hin gridarstora stytta af liggjandi budda - impressift dot! tad sidasta kvold var svo farid i raudahverfid, sem reyndist to litid ahugavert fyrir utan gotubasana sem seldu steikt godgaeti, s.s. kakkalakka, engisprettur, orma, maura, ect. einnig, tegar vid satum a kaffihusi og drukkum kok med rori, saum vid litinn fill rolta um gotuna a milli portkvennanna - hvort tad tykir edlilegt veit eg to ekki.

eftir fjora daga i bangkok akvadum vid ad halda leid okkar afram - to vitandi ad tangad myndum vid koma aftur. vid tokum rutu- og batsferd til koh chang. rutan renndi, ekki to taeginlega, i gegnum tykka skoga og litil torp - falleg leid. og eftir tonokkur vandraedi med illa enskumaelandi taelendingana i rutunni, ta komumst vid i batinn. a spegilslettum sjo matti sja eyjuna i fjarska i gegnum mistrid, staekka haegt og rolega og a medan vid stodum a dekki heldu orfair flugfiskar syningu fyrir okkur.

tad var sidla dags sem vid komum, forum inn a bungaloinn okkar, sturtudum okkur og myrkrid kom. fengum okkur ad borda ut a strondinni og leigdum okkur vespu fyrir naesta dag. gerdum svo heidarlega tilraun til ad horfa a biomynd med sukkuladi og kokomjolk i hendi - en endudum i dai mjog snemma.

gaerdagurinn var, likt og kvoldi honum a undan, tekinn snemma. klukkan rett rumlega sjo vorum vid bunir ad kveikja a sjalfrennihjolunum. eyjan er algjor paradis! vid brunudum um trong vegi hennar (a vinstri akgrein) sem ymist lagu i gegnum tykka skoga eda hvitar strendur. stor litrik fidrildi sveimandi fyrir framan okkur, heidskyrt og brennandi sol - ein og ein kramin kopraslanga i vegkantinum. vid tokum sloda upp ad trjavoxnum fjalltoppunum, og syntum i heitu hafinu. i faaum ordum; dyrlegur dagur!

nuna sit eg her a internetkaffi husinu einn - rutur er enn i ruminu, svo solbrunninn ad hann haggast ekki (eg hafdi vit a tvi ad vera i fotum).

tangad til sidar,
gum.

p.s. www.flickr.com/photos/100daysinasia3 - endilega kikid a nyjar myndir!

From seedy streets to sandy streets

The past few days have been very eventful. We met up with Doug, a friend we first met in Amman, and the three of us successfully managed to get something done in Bangkok. We woke up early and took a boat taxi to the Grand Palace. It's very difficult to describe it and the adjacent temple, so much decoration and detail, it was very impressive and after it all we felt culturally saturated for the rest of the day. But nevertheless we didn't just retreat to Khao San Road for a Heineken and strip show, we walked down to the madness of the indian quarter in the centre of the city and ate. That evening we went out just south of the Grand Palace and while sipping on some Chang beer, we saw a baby elephant stroll down the street. When I say baby elephant it shouldn't be interpreted in any way like any 'baby' thing we're used to. The 'baby' elephant was two metres tall and about a good healthy tonne, just being led down the sidewalk. We also saw a variety of different unusual food being grilled on the street, such as cockroach, worms and grasshoppers, but we had already eaten our fill.
The next day, although taken with quite a headache was equally productive. We went to see the Wat Pho (Pho Temple) and there we saw a giant reclining golden buddha, v. impressive. We then headed to the east of the city into the financial district via the skytrain, Bangkoks hot overground metro system. We went up to the 33 floor of Bangkoks Sheraton to get an even better view and finally headed south to try and catch a thai kick boxing match. Unfortunately we were unhappy with the prices they offered us for first second and third class as they were all four to five times higher than what the locals were paying. Although the prices are really not that significant by western standards (30-50 $) it has become a matter of principle to haggle everyone for everything up to the last cent, we can't give up now, we just started getting really good at it.
We said our farewells to Doug and Bangkok yesterday and took a bus to Trat, a city on the south eastern coast. From there we waited at several ferry stops and dealt with a few idiots, eventually got to Koh Chang. The first impression we got was like the one from The Beach. A palm tree jungle on high hills in the centre and white sand beaches all around. When we arrived we were picked up in a crammed roofed pickup truck and driven to the other side. There we checked into our expensive bamboo bungalow, the finest accommodation we've booked so far and its still only 50 $ a night. Rented two scooters for two days for absolutely no money and ended the night eating on the beach. Today we woke up at seven and throughout the entire day we rolled up and down dense jungle hills and down to beautiful beaches. This island is full of enormous butterflies. dragonflies and spiders. We just made it back to our resort before the sun set and after having showered I noticed I had caught some colour today. Predominantly bright red on most parts of my skin that were exposed to the sun, but colour nonetheless. Now the plan is to eat and hit some Halloween party!

Until next time!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/100daysinasia3 (new)

Rutur

eftir ruma 30 tima,,,

,,, a mismunandi flugvollum vida um asia, ta lentum vid heilu og holdnu i bangkok. malid var tad, ad flugid okkar fra damaskus tafdist orlitid, tja, um 9 tima eda svo. & tad tyddi ad vid misstum af fluginu okkar fra abu dhabi til thailands - og auk tess var naesta vel, solarhringi seinna, full. vid hengum sumse a flugvellinum tarna i fimm tima, uns vid vorum sendir til kuala lumpur. tar var lika sma bid, tja, 5 tima eda svo. en ekkert tydir ad kvarta! - vid erum her, i rumum 30 stiga hita, og sennilega 99% raka.

bangkok? jamm, bangkok virkar a mig eins og fullordins utgafa af disneylandi. surealiskur aevintyraheimur tar sem allt er til solu a vaegu verdi og hugmyndir solumanna, leikara og hofunda virdast ekki eiga ser takmork. stodug bod um 'ping pong show' (sem er einskonar leiktattur sem snyst um skop kvenna), vaendiskonur & strakastelpur, uturbrunnir bakpokaferdalangar a fimmtugsaldrinum i leit af yngri domum, aestir tuktuk bilstjorar sem vita hvar konu a solu er ad finna og logregla sem horfir a sjonarspilid spok a svip og pollroleg. allt fer tetta svo fram i afskaplega fallegu umhverfi - rett eins og disneyland sjalft. graen grodur, gyllt hof og romantiskir kanalar.

greyid hann rutur naeldi ser i sma flensu - en er to allur a batavegi. en tetta tydir ad vid eigum eftir ad eyda fleiri dogum her en vid bjuggumst vid - sem er i godu lagi tar sem nog er ad sja! eftir bangkok liggur leidin nidur a eyjuna koh chang og sidan inn i frumskoga kambodiu.

vid islendingarnir erum nu heldur betru latnir finna fyrir hitanum - um leid og vid stigum ut ur sturtunni erum vid ordnir nogu sveittir aftur til tess ad fara i adra. og kvoldin eru ekkert skarri, rakt og heitt loft sem smigur hvert sem tad kemst og skilur eftir otaeginlega raka bletti i fotunum okkar - en tetta hlytur ad venjast!

nog nu,
seinna,
gum.

p.s. erum ad faera inn fleiri myndir a myndasidu numer 2 - endilega kikid!

Thirty hours and a beer or three

Well, we made it at last. The delay in Damascus was actually nine hours and we spent our time playing yatzi and drinking a lot of expensive beer. We then arrived in Abu Dhabi and were given a choice, stay overnight at some Etihad Airway Hotel or hurry to Bangkok via Kuala Lumpur. We chose the latter because we thought it would be fun to drink a beer in Malaysia and it was. I watched the Maltese Falcon on board, ate some good food and behaved perfectly despite the slight intoxication (til hamingju med annan i afmaeli mamma). We finally arrived in Bangkok after having been in and out of airplanes and airports for more than thirty hours. Exhausted we hailed a taxi and found our hotel down on Khao San Road. K S rd is a mad world, live music on the streets, bustling with hip thai youths and western couples. The girls are v. cute, the clubs fun and the food amazing. We dont plan on spening too much time here and will probably find a hotel in another district tomorrow but we're v. content for the time being. We're going to meet a British guy who shared a room with in Amman, he's coming tonight and I have a strong feeling that tonight won't be taken without an endurance test. There are a lot of men asking us if we cared to see women and their reproductive organs play all kinds of games, including chop sticks and ping pong balls, but although thai sex acrobatics sounds great I think we're going to pass.
Today we woke up late and panicked slightly because of our laziness but then remembered that we're on holiday with months ahead, so we just took a tuk-tuk moto-cab to chinatown and ate.
Bangkok looks promising

love
Rutur

No sir, Delayed!

We are at the Damascus International airport, our flight has been repeatedly delayed, now by four hours. Contrary to the hospitality and kindness we have experienced among Syrian locals, the airport police remain comically useless and annoying. We keep asking for explanations, information and whether our flight from Abu Dhabi will be there for us and they just sit their, serene in their little vestibules of power, chain smoke and point left and right mumbling something sweet in Arabic. The only place to eat or drink here is the Cham Palace Airport Cafeteria so it seems that 'Scam Palace' like I call it will follow all the way until take off, we are unhappy Vikings. Its during bleak times like these that you start noticing the minor imperfections in the third world that you didn't notice before while you were v. happy. Such things like washing your behind with cold water in stead of paper in turkish holes in the ground (the only option here in this airport), the abundance of filthy teeth and gums, the f. endless switching from the arabic keyboard to the english... I could go on and add to our dejection but I wont, we're going to the bar...

love

rutur

(p.s. I wanted to go over my short post on 100days...com but I can't, censored. This has happened v. often here, but that's alright, after all this post wasn't v. jolly)

The last night in the Middle East

Well, this will be the last post from the Middle East, late tomorrow evening we arrive in Bangkok with no hotel booked and smelling really good. The past few days have been exceptionally good. We returned to Damascus from Amman and stayed overnight, went to our favourite Hammam only to find out that Mr. Soap, our preferred half naked fat drunkard who worked at distributing towels and soap, was in prison or 'finished' like his buddy Ahmed put it. Apparently he had had a Johnny Walker or three too many and slapped a man multiple times. Although this was tragic, Gummi and I couldn't help breaking into heavy laughter in the Hammam not because of the mans misfortune but because Ahmed his buddy didn't seem all that surprised at Mr Soaps fate.
Anyway, so much for him, we traveled north to Aleppo by bus and were quite impressed. We visited the citadel and there we met a couple from America but currently living and working in Prague. After the usual courteous and predictable exchanging of introductions we found out that the two were fun and interesting and we have actually been with them since. They hadn't anticipated extending their Mediterranean tour to Syria and had little idea of what it in fact was that they wanted to do here so we joined forces and I must say I've grown quite fond of them.
We four wanderers then took a train from Aleppo to Latakia, a vibrant coastal town, and there we stayed for two days. The first night we were in the mood for a little clubbing so we set off in search for some disco frisco but weren't satisfied. We then hailed a cab and after having waved our hands about like fools (as if we were dancing) he understood and off we went. After about half an hour he then pulled up many kilometres north of Latakia at the Cote D'Azur Cham Palace resort, the equivalent of an Intercontinental or Sheraton and let us out. We waltzed into the hotel, asked if there was a club & we were told there wasn't, but there was a bar. Our spirits having taken quite a beating, we gave up and sipped gin & tonics for extreme prices (approximately 3,2$ for a healthy glass) and talked the night away.
The following morning we woke up early and went back to the Cote D'Azur, back to the Cham Palace Hotel and into the beach resort they have. The sun was shining bright and on the beach we lazed, swam, did some jet ski, read... it was good. Our path then lead to the Krak des chevaliers, an amazingly intact castle on a hill in Syria, just north of the Lebanese border. The castle was amazing, can't describe it.
Finally we all head back south to Damascus, spent some good nights here, walking the old town like we live here, familiar with corners and faces. It is a bit sad to leave because we have both grown used to the climate, people, constant bombardment of 'welcome to syria' & all the other jive from this part of the world. But alas, seven hours in the UAE and a long flight is all that is between us and S. E. Asia.

Behave & I hope things are all running like they ought to be, pictures will be coming up on Facebook eventually just because it's easier than to upload them on Flickr, and Til Hamingju med afmaelid fina mamma min!

Love

Rutur

sidustu andardraettirnir i mid-austurlondum,,,

,,, erum mettadir af bensin-mengun & kryddi - volgt illa bragdandi loft sem hefur vanist undarlega hratt og ordid naestum ad unun fremur en eitthverju odru.

aleppo var/er mjog skemmtileg og lifleg borg. leidir okkar i skodunarferdum lagu m.a. i citadelid tar, sem er hreint ut sagt otrulegt mannvirki, flaektumst um souk-inn og bordudum grillada lifur med gomlum bedouin korlum. a fyrsta degi kynntumst vid amerisku pari busettu i prag, ashleigh og will, sem slogust i for ad naesta afangastadnum, lattakia. lattakia er einskonar cote d'azur syrlands. vid lagum a strondinni, drukkum bjor i hitanum, syntum i midjardarhafinu og forum a jetski. undarlegt ad vera i tessari beach-resort stemningu i landinu sem er malad svart af fjolmidlum og ekkert annad virdist haegt ad finna tar en vopnasmygl og gydingahatur. eftir lagmenningarlega dvol i lattakia fetudum vid okkur adeins sunnar, ad krossfarakastalanum Krak des Chevlier - sem var virkilega mikilfenglegur. hotelherbergid var 'utbuid' fallegu utsyni yfir kastalan og haedott landslagid, tar sem kyr og geitur voru a beit. virkilega otrulegt ad labba um tessi gomlu golf i myrkrinu.

nu erum vid komnir aftur til damaskus, og erum eins og fyrr sagdi ad draga okkur sidustu andartok herna. komumst upp a lagid med ilmvatnskaup muslima i dag, en su menning er undarleg; tu segir einfaldlega hvada lykt tu villt fjarfesta i og i hvada af staerdargerd af glasi, med storri sprautu blandar afgreislumadurinn svo listilega saman nokkrum mismunandi ilmolium tar til utkoman faest; disel white eda j.p. gaultier - utbuid af skeggjudum araba a markadi i damaskus, tugfalt laegra verd. & tad virdist fatt vera raunverulegt her (hvad nu sem raunverulegt tydir), og ta er eg ekki bara ad tala um solgleraugu og toskur med tekktu merkjum a (sem vissulega eru to ekki framleiddar af fraega fyrirtaekinu sjalfu) heldur eru baekur i bokabudum fjolritadar og ferrari merkjum klest a lodur og adra russneska bila.

kvoldid var rolegt, ut a borda fyrr hlaegilega upphaed og i hammam - tar sem engin mr. soap er, tar sem hann situr bakvid las og sla. i fyrramaldi verdur flogid til abu dhabi - tar verdur stutt stopp og afram haldid til bangkok! ur einum heim i annan.

& hvad laerdum vid? ;

mid-austurlond, tau sem vid hofum sed, virdast vera allt annar stadur en sa sem fjolmidlar og rikisstjornir draga upp svartar myndir af; gestrisni hvert sem tu ferd, odrepandi mannlif i fallegum og sogulegum borgum, nattura, fornmynjar, odyrt tobak, gott flaff flaff, shawarma samlokur eru bestar i morgunmat, ferskur avaxtadjus, hertz-gin, baenakoll, handklaedishausar, arabar i mini-pilsum, frodufellandi snarvitlausir okumenn, exotiskt gos, gamlar konur med miklar skodanir um skituga egypta, kaflodnir smastrakar, sveittir klukkutimar i gufubadi, bullandi eydimork, kameldyr og asnar, allt ekkert sumt margt fatt, mr. soap & ahmed.

grin - vid laerdum ekki neitt og munum aldrei troskast.

kvedjur,
gum.

i naest hluta; bangkok og sameinudu furstadaemin,,,

Nyjustu fregnir herma,,,

,,, ad storvinur okkar mr. soap, sem kyssir okkur a ennid og kinnar tegar vid komum i hammam, hafi, alls ekki svo fyrir longu, gert ser gladan dag - drukkid sma viski og dansad. slegid fra ser og verid handtekinn. nu er mr. soap i fangelsi, eda eins og ahmed ordadi tad; ''mr. soap finish''.

sumse, eftir amman lag vegurinn til damaskus tar sem ad vid heimsottum okkar uppahalds stadi - forum a bab touma og fengum okkur samloku, a o2 og fengum okkur einn kaldan barada og svo i hamman-id hans mr. soap. forum a annad hotel, sem var an efa tad fallegasta sem vid hofum sed i ferdinni hingad til - stadsett i hau gomlu triggja haeda husi a godum stad, virkilega sjarmerandi to svo ad pilturinn i motokunni hafi verid bolvadur ruddi. & rutur var reyndar allur bitinn - bordadur lifandi.

i dag var ruta tekin um hadegisbilid til aleppo, komum um solsetur og komum okkur fljott ut af hotelinu til ad skoda tessa borg, sem strax virkar mjog vel a okkur. verdum her i tvaer naetur adur en vid dettum i djofullega stemningu i midjardarhafsbaenum lattakia.

greyid mr. soap - ekkert hurra i tetta skiptid!

gum.

strandarbaer, landslag og klam,,,

,,, eins og gloggir lesendur hafa liklega tekid eftir i aesispennandi dramasogunni ''tveir ferdalangar i mid-austurlondum'', ta hefur onnur adalpersonar farid mjog nakvaemt ut i magakveisu hinnar og tvi otarft ad dreypa frekar a tvi mali, en ma to baeta vid: su persona er ordin fin nuna!

leidin fra amman til aqaba var i fyrstu ad mestu leiti hvit audn, orfaar hrislur, geitur, kameldyr og stoku sinnum matti lita bedouin-karla - tvi var mp3 spilarinn skrufadur i botn og augnlokin latin falla. tegar sunnar var komid toku aftur a moti til vid a risa fjoll - falleg form, sterkir litir, dalir og stor myndarleg graen tre sem virtust to omogulega geta nad ser vatn. vid komum til aqaba ad solsetri - borgin komu okkur strax fyrir sjonir sem falleg, myndarlegir palmar en obaerilegur hiti. ramadan var ad klarast og gledin tvi ostjornleg - mikid sjonarspil. sama er to ekki haegt ad segja um hotelherbergid ta nottina - mjog takmorkud gledi med bilada loftraestingu sem og lysingu - ekkert sjonarspil. vid vokndum to daginn eftir, vitandi tad ad naesta nott (sem yrdi a odru hoteli i sama bae) myndi verda hreinn unadar - endurordum, hreinn munadur. seinni dagurinn for i ad virda fyrir ser skrautlega og litrika hitabeltisfiska og liggja strondinni og lesa murakami undir solhlif - difa tanum adeins i sjoinn.

to svo ad orlitill vandraedagangur hafi verid a okkur med naesta vidkomustad ta heldum vid plani, slepptum wadi rum og forum til petra. hotelid tar var ekki beinlinis listverk, og tad var sma kloaklykt a herberginu okkar - en eigendurnir voru frabaerir. tetta var sumse fjolskyldu fyrirtaeki, pabbi, tveir synir, brodursonur og einn syrlenskur fyr sem taladi enga ensku ad utanskildu: ''ahh, okey, no problem, no problem''. sama hvert spurt var, avallt: ''ahh, okey, no problem, no problem''. vid eyddum teim degi i afsloppun - i raun tad sama og vid hofdum gert sidustu eina og halfa vikuna. spjolludum vid eigendurna, tvaer irskar stelpur og eric (sem sidar vard ferdafelagi okkar um petra-svaedid).

tad var vaknad snemma naesta morgun - hakkad i sig arabiskan morgunmat og brunad til petra. solin nyrisinn og, hversu kjanalega sem tad mun nu hljoma, ta hafdi dagurinn aldrei verid ferskari. til ad gera langa sogu stutta, ta tvaeldumst vid um tetta magnada svaedi i 10 tima. forum upp haedir og kletta, nidur gyl og upp a toppa - horfdum yfir tugkilometra radius af einstoku eydimerkurlandslagi, brjalaedislegt utsyni yfir oll tessi fjoll, alla tessa kletta svo undarlega i laginu - ur tusund metra haed. tad omogulegt ad lysa tessu - myndir segi ekki einu sinni nog. fyrir utan tetta eru undraverd mannvirki ut um allt - heilu husin, med utskornum sulum, veggmyndum og gluggum hogginn inn i fjollin og klettana. vid ridum upp bratta stiga a osnum og tegar eydimorkin taemdist to forum vid a kameldyri til baka. an efa besti dagur ferdarinnar - an efa einn af tessum dogum sem munu ofsaekja mann sjalfan i framtidinni.

i dag snerum vid til baka til amman. ferdin var lika anaegjuleg - las murakami, rutur med tusund og eina nott - god tonlist i eyrunum. forum upp a citadel haedina i amman tegar vid vorum bunir a skra okkur inn og hotelid og endum svo i bio - sem var algjort bio! sumse, semsagt, vid naum ad plata herramennina sem raku bioid til tess ad syna die hard 4 fyrir okkur klukkan 8 (og nota bene, tad kostadi taepar hundrad kronur - ekki 900). tegar vid komum er gomul togul og mjog listraen mynd i gangi og orfaar hraedur i salnum. vid spyrjumst fyrir og faum tad svar ad bida i 10 minutur, ta; ''action!''. 10 minutur lida, rutur verdur otreyjufullur og kikir inn i salinn, kallar svo fram; ''gummi! tad er klam i gangi''. klamsyningin tok um korter - til ad hafa tad a hreinu tad drukkum vid miranda-gos og spjolludum vid illskiljanlegan jordana a medan syningunni stod. sidar, action! myndir rullar i, a ad giska, klukkutima med tilheyrandi sprengingum og hurrandi spennu tar til allt slokknar. vid vitum fatt i okkar haus um hvad er i gangi, hinkrum to - ny klammynd sett i taekid! vid rukum ut, fengum endurgreitt og klarudum myndina a hotelinu, hun var her a dvd. reyndar kemur to i ljos tegar vid segjum ahmad (herranum a hotelin) fra tessu, ta tidkast tetta vist i tessu kvikmyndahusi - ekki auglysingar i hleum - neij, tad er groft klam.

i naesta kafla; daudahafid, jerash og aftur til syrlands.

gum.

Pornography & John McClane

We have just returned from Petra, a world wonder near the town Wadi Mousa in Jordan. We spent 10 hours walking an entire city of ruins and canyons, climbing up to the peaks of the highest canyons we saw and trekking over endless stretches of desert and rocky mountains around the ruins. The day was undoubtedly one of the greatest of my life. The wonders we saw, the views from the tops and a few mad events made Petra a wonderful memory. We rode donkeys up steep cliffs, camels over desert roads past countless 1800 year old ruins and monuments carved into huge canyons, ate some Bedouin womans lunch and canned tuna on a high peak called the View of Sacrifice. It is impossible to describe teh day in any real detail because of its wonders and so my only advice is for you to go there, and spend more time than we did.
We stayed at Cleopatra Hotel were the motto is, enter a stranger, leave a friend. There is no debating that. As soon as we checked in we were seated in a comfortable lounge and asked if we wanted any thing to drink. The only TV in the hotel was there along with access to internet and so in that homely living room we met other travelers and talked with the family that runs the hotel. The rooms were not expensive and clean and the hotel provided a ride to Petra. Five pluses in my carnet, my personal favourite this journey.
Downstairs in the living room we met some Irish girls and a Canadian guy who we later hiked with the following day in Petra. A v. nice guy working in Qatar, good photographer and a formidable co-adventurer.
Today we left early to Amman, a three hour bus ride made easy with a thousand an one nights to read. Came back to the Hotel we had been in before to find out we weren't in a private room anymore but sharing with two others. They later turned out to be two good travelers like ourselves, one remarkably on a similar path... we saw him in Aqaba, here and although his journey slightly deviates from ours he is leaving for Bangkok two days after us to explore all the same countries we are. Good stuff.
Before I end this brief post I must tell you about our trip to the cinema. We were a little tired from the long walk in Petra yesterday and found it fit to go to a cinema for an hour and half just to recharge some batteries before dinner. We came to a little corner entrance and asked what they were playing. They seemed troubled and so I suggested Die Hard 4.0, they mumbled something in arabic and then said 'ok no problem, we show you die hard at four, one dinar (1 euro) each'. We came back at eight only to find some silent movie to be playing and then to our astonishment, some hardcore porn. I asked the man what was going on, he asked me to 'wait one minute sir, action soon' Then, in the middle of a scene that need not be described, there appeared an eject sign on the screen, some noise and finally the starting credits of Die Hard. We sat down on some wooden seats and lit ourselves a cigarette, not because of our rebellious nature but because everyone was smoking and we had never smoked in a cinema before, so we lit up despite feeling no real need to smoke. After all here in the Middle east we have smoked in hotels, immigration offices, aquariums, McDonalds (went in just to smoke) and a dozen other fun places, including a pharmacy but guilt got the better of me and so we left. Anyway, the movie was about half way gone when the cursed eject sign appeared again and the screen was lit up with more hardcore porn. We began yelling at the man who had showed us to our seats and asked for an explanation. He told us to be patient, the porn would only be for ten-twenty minutes and then we could resume Die Hard. Its not that sleeping in the same room has ruined our appetite for the female form in all its glory, rather amplified it I think, but we are men of morals and enduring pornography on the big screen surrounded by arab 'porn connoisseurs' didn't sound like what we wanted to do. Just before exiting the cinema, we realized than in these lands of haggling, we should ask for our money back, or at least half of it. After some good haggling we got half of our dinar back, and so that experience whether it be qualified as good or bad cost us 50 kr/cents.
I still love the middle east

Behave, Ill write some more soon!

Love

Rutur

Back to the Desert from the Beach

Salam,

Well the plan changed a little. Gummi fell ill shortly after our arrival to Amman and so the stay there was prolonged by a day in order to avoid travelling with a fever. The next destination when Gummi had recovered was Aqaba, a coastal city in the south and what a surprise that was. After four hours of road & the same scenery, desert and desert and canyons and desert, we began our descent to Aqaba, a neon lit beach community, swarming with people our age, much more noticeable than in Damascus or Amman where children seem to turn into bearded working men overnight. We checked into a hotel of 'interesting' comfort and headed out. After having walked past a McDonalds, Quizno's and a tourist mall complex with a dozen pubs and western bars we suddenly found ourselves in what seemed to be new years out on the streets. Cars honking their horns and flags being waved left and right and after a little reflection (slower than usual because of a g & t or three) we realized that the festivities were because Ramadan has ended. It was quite a sight and within moments the streets were full of food and music. We decided to stay an extra night in Aqaba but the uncomfortable dump we were staying at was fully booked and so were nearly all the hotels we came across. We ended in a three star for 20 euros a night but didn't feel guilty, rather felt we deserved some peace after the dark oven we slept in the previous night. The following morning we took a cab to a beach south of aqaba, originally to go visit the aquarium that we both loved but then after having seen the colour of the Aqaba Guld I insisted on a little swim. After all it was between 35 and 40 degrees outside. We were dropped off at some tourist resort where we met an American man from the Peace Corps, heard some Brits order round of beer and some Germans planning whatever Germans plan in Jordan. We took a dip in the warm gulf, slouched on the beach reading a thousand and one nights and every now and then exchanged greetings with Jordanians because of their nasty habit of welcoming foreigners without hidden motives, dirty arabs! (please sense the sarcasm). Aqaba definitely gets a plus in its carnet. This morning we were meant to get on a bus to Wadi Moussa & Petra early in the morning but in stead we overslept and caught the afternoon bus. The ride was great, again nothing but desert and canyons but somewhat more fun that before. Now we have just checked in to a cozy little hostel in Wadi Moussa, Gummi is telling tales of Iceland to some Irish girls and we are going to go for a little walk when the sun begins to set. We aren't made for this heat and neither are we content with the sweating, lizard speed walking and constant drinking many litres of water.

Will report again soon, behave!

love

Rutur

Aqaba!

I falleg vedri, umvafinn palmatrjam, i strandbae vid Raudahafid er ekkert annad vitlausara en ad sitja fyrir framan primitivan tolvuskja sveittur a internetinu, tvi verdur tetta stutt;

eydimerkur jordaniu er fallegar, dokkna tvi lengra sem sudur er komid - fjollin er eins og steypt i kokuform og ekkert passar betur vid langar keyrslur i audninni en ethiopiskur jazz. amman heilladi mig upp ur skonum, byggd a haedum - eins konar san franscico arabiu - og tvi ofar sem tu kemur, tvi magnadri. gamlar merkar minjar og godur falafel a hverju horni. aftur a moti foru tveir dagar ad tremur i amman i tad ad sitja a klosettinu - bolvud magakveisa. erum nu komnir til aqaba - hitinn naerri obaerilegur og planid ad fara inn a svallt aquariumid og skoda hitabeltisfiska undir viftu stillta af haesta styrk.

sidar, petra, dana, wadi musa og amman.

jordaniu faer plus i kladdan - eins og rutur myndi orda tad.

gum.

Technical obstacles

I have been told a fwew times that because of the format of our template the link section is hidden in the bottom right corner, this is not trivial but in case some of you had missed it we have set up two new picture sites and will continue to do so as the trip progresses...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/100daysinasia
http://www.flickr.com/photos/100daysinasia2

hope you are all well!

Rutur

From Damascus to Amman

We are now in an Internet cafe in Amman and there are many things to be said about our first glances at this city but first I need to recount the past days in Damascus and all the wonders we saw there. On Friday we began our cultural tour of the city, tried to get into the Omayyad mosque but were repeatedly rejected because of Ramadan and all the commotion that follows. We went to the archaeological museum and our jaws dropped at the wonders there (the first written alphabet known on earth) and all sorts of interesting pieces. Then on one of our walks through the old city we deliberately got lost and enjoyed it, wondering narrow little Aladdin streets with no idea where they were taking us. Then to our surprise, after having walked down a dead end street a little Arab b0y called to us and said 'do you want see Arab house'. After a little reflection of what this sinister kid was up to we finally accepted and were led through a narrow corridor into a large garden port inside, clean and in the centre were three Germans! They asked who we were and after mutual introductions we found out that those two girls and the guy were exchange students from Heidelberg studying Arabic in the University. That is a good example of how Damascus surprises you. We have on numerous occasions stumbled on a slightly decorated door in some sleazy alleyway and walked into a small palace like cafe. Our last day in Damascus before we left for Amman we were walking down the largest market in the old city looking for food, which is much harder than you think during Ramadan, and when we saw that our old 25 cent chawarma place was closed we chose what appeared to be the next best thing. we walked into some house, past a kitchen and a place where small cheese-breads were being made, up some dirty stairs and voila, a large fancy restaurant with a view over the Omayyad mosque. Hidden behind jewelry shops and sandal salesmen was a very decorated place to eat.
Gummi and went every night we stayed in Damascus to various Hammams, but one is by far our favourite. It is located in the Christian quarter where we usually tend to stay in the evenings because of the ambiance. Lively quarter, full of people our age and Syrian girls that have made quite an impression on us, they are very beautiful and although occasionally they are slightly concealed (much less in the christian quarter) its intriguing, leaving something to the imagination. But I've gotten ahead of myself, the Hammam I'm talking about, Hamman Bakri near Bab Touma, was more welcoming than we had expected. After having been wrapped up when we were done the two men that work there showed us some interest. One introduced himself as Ahmed, a very common name here along with Mohammed, very popular, and then said that the fatter of the two was Monsieur Soap. Mr. Soap said some laid back words in Arabic to Ahmed and proceeded to bring us tea but Ahmed continued saying that Monsieur Soap liked to drink and when he did he started dancing. Ahmed then showed us how Mr. Soap danced and we broke out into laughter. I asked if these two wanted to join us for a coffee or beer outside but Mr. Soap made it quite clear that it was whiskey or nothing. Unfortunately we weren't in the mood to sip whiskey in 30 degrees with Mr. Soap and left. We went back later, now we have friends in Syria!
On the alcohol front we two have shown a surprising lack of interest. The occasional Barada or Almaza beer in the evening but never to any real extent. It must be the fear of a hangover in this heat but never the less I have replaced it with a new respect for water and tea! The food though, now there is something worth writing about. The best Falafels Ive had, the best Arabic food, the best Chawarmas and it helps that a meal is rarely more that 2-3 euros and a single falafel or chawarma range from 20-50 cents. Here's a list of what we usually paid in Damascus although Amman is relatively more expensive.
Full meal in a restaurant: Under four euros
Taxi ride anywhere in Damascus: 50 cents
lodgings in a four star hotel: 30 euros
Single twin bed room in a cheap hostel: 5 euros
Hammam -massage: 1,2 euros
Hammam w. massage: 3 euros,
Chawarma small: 30 cents, large, 50 cents
Falafel: 20 cent
the list goes on and on.
The room I mentioned above was in fact an apartment we rented in Damascus with an extraordinary view. 9 $ a night. Good Deal

Now for Amman. I haven't really seen enough yet to form a real opinion but I'll tell you what struck me immediately once I arrived. But first the I must tell you about the trip from Damascus to Amman. We decided to take a taxi for approximately 25 euros across the border. The alternatives were sharing a cab for slightly less money or a bus more much less money but given that Paris Charles de gaulle airport - Charle de Gaule etoile is probably more that 25 euros we decided to be selfish and have an entire cab for ourselves. The Syrians drive like madmen and that is said without exaggeration. They accelerate when they see someone on the road in front of them much like a lion would roar to scare off some intruders. They drive like maniacs and so we had some qualms about taking a cab to Amman but it all worked out. Once we got the border controls I thought we were in for some trouble, foreign passports, two young guys, drug dogs and AK's but no, the only bother was that we had to go through some 6-7 different stops and controls before entering Jordan. Just the usual intolerable welcoming and warmth the Syrians tend to show. What is wrong with them, (all of this said in a highly sarcastic tone, maybe even with a little Borat accent). What we then proceeded to see once in Jordan and on our way to Amman was just a stretch of desert as far as the eye could reach. When we arrived in Amman what struck me was its resemblance to Cairo, but far less dirty and sleazy. Because of the surrounding desert the city was veiled with thick sandy smog and the houses mostly that boring beige sandy colour. But once we had checked into our 4 euro a night (believe me, its worth four euros, consists of two beds and a large ceiling fan, a 30 x 30 cm window and a TV the same size) and went downtown I began liking the city more. So far not as much as Damascus but like Rome this city is built on many different hills. It has more of a cosmopolitan feeling to it probably because it has been westernized far more but still beautiful.
I have more to say, but I'm hungry and I cant be bothered to write more just yet...

Behave and send me addressed if you want postcards

Love

Rutur

Annar i Damascus!

ٍSumarljos i Damaskus ad hausti en svo kom nottin, vid svafum toluvert lengur en vid aetludum okkur I gaer og vorum tvi ekki komnir a rol fyrr en eftir hadegi. Stigum ut I stingandi hitan og urdum sveittir a skotstundu – hungradir en heilladir. Vid vofdum keffiyeh um hofud okkar og uppskarum hlatrarskoll hvert sem vid forum en letum tad ekki stodva okkur I ad vera sannir rabbar (ordid sem vid notum yfir araba). Eftir odyra en bragdgoda maltid nalgaet hotelinu, tvaeldumst vid um trongar og fallegar gotum gamla baesins, tyndumst og letum svindla a okkur – vonandi I sidasta sinn I tessari ferd to.

Damascus er nokkurnveginn byggd i kringum haed, og efst a henni er long gata tar sem maelt er med ad fara ad solarlagi, borda og horfa a borgina hverfa I myrkur og lysast svo oll upp. Vid fengum enn annan kolbrjaladan leigubilsstjorann til tess ad fara med okkur tangad. Virkilega mognud sjon – og nog virist vera af veitingastodum sem einfaldlega seldu ekki mat – voru tad I raun einungis ad nafninu til. Fundum to einn sem baud upp a ekta syrlenskan mat fyrir vaegan pening – bordid fylltist og vid sprungum.

Nidureftir lag leidin svo aftur, brott oupplyst gata – dundrandi mid-asutrlenskir tonar I hatolorunum I aftursaetinu. I borginni ma finna marga veitingastadi og kaffihus sem ad utan virdast litlar kjallaraholur, en tegar inn er svo komid blasir vid manni holl – vid fundum eina slika til ad bragda a einum almazabjor adur en vid forum I hamman – arabiskt gufubad.

Tar var legid I hitanum a hvitum marmaraplotum og af og til kold vatnsgusa latin gossa yfir hofudid, sidan vorum vid teknir, halfnaktir inn I herbergi tar sem annar halfnakinn (og lodinn) madur skrubbadi af okkur skitinn, og ta I bokstaflegri menningu, og bardi svo og nuddi ur okkur alla bolgu og eymsli. Vid urdum aftur ad smabornum – letum dekra vid okkur, vorum meira ad segja vafdir I handklaedi af manni sem het Ahmed og okkur faert te. Ahmed tessi fyrrnefndi kynnti okkur svo fyrir kollega sinum, Monsieur Soap – eda herra Sapu. Samkvaemt Ahmed ta tok Mr. Soap alltaf til vid ad dansa tegar honum var gefid Whiskey . Samkvaemt Ahmed var hann ekki lengi af stuta floskunni og byrja ad hrista myndarlegu bumbuna - eda tad matti ad minnsta kosti rada af afkaralegum handahreyfingum Ahmeds.

Eftir hamman la leidin heim, upp a svalirnar a hotelinu tar sem horft var yfir borgina .

I dag voknudum vid to fyrr en I gaer, nadum ad skrida ur ruminu a skikkanlegum tima til tess ad na ad tjekka okkur ut og borda. Forum a rolt og skodudum svo National Museum – tar sem margar gersermar eru geymdar og ekki gefst timi til ad telja taer upp.
Sit svo her, a vel loftraestu internet-café og bid eftir Bayan Bahlak, storvinur Ruts, komi og saeki okkur til ad fara med a sitt margromada Guesthouse (ja, eda sjaum til med tad)

Kvedja fra Damas,
Gum.

The journey from the Barada river to the Mekong has begun! Or from Barada beer to BaBaBa!

Now the journey has begun, after a long flight with a surprising stop in Syrias northern city of Aleppo we arrive just before midnight at Damascus international Airport. The passport control was a little terrifying, after all smiles and friendly behaviour are just as common among the Syrian airport authorities as in modern day American airports but we managed to swing with caution to the baggage claim, where we claimed our baggage among chainsmoking arabs from all over, changed our cash into comfortably worn Syrian notes and headed out. We were greeted, or assaulted in a friendly manner by lots of taxi drivers eager to escort us into their capitol and after a haggle here and some further haggling there we offered a driver 500 syrian pounds (roughly the equivalent of 5 euros) to drive us into the city. We dropped our luggage off at our hotel, a formidable four star hotel, much more decent than what we assume the rest of the trip has in store for us but completely worth it. After having tossed on some much needed deodorant we left for the beautiful old city centre of damascus. I thought that ramadan might possibly be a burden but on the contrary it is the reason Damascus is the most among the liveliest cities I have seen at night time. Swarming with locals and three tourist, us and a French person we passed, we strolled down the cities largest market, bought kaffiye's (the not-trendy-anymore arab head and neck wear) , some sandals and some sun lotion for reasonably low prices, after thorough haggling ofcourse, and finished the walk with some chawarmas. By the time we were heading back, the city was closing and hence the streets were ill lit and empty, a romantic end to our beginning! We got to the hotel, went up to the veranda on the ninth floor with a breathtaking view of damascus, drank some Barada beer served in different coloured sovietesque bottles and played Yatzi, the winner of the game will not be included, but we icelanders simply have a way with dice!
We are off, it is hot outside. The plan is to visit a few mosques, markets, walk the old city, hammam and end the day by going to the hill for a sunset view over Damascus, maybe some narguile and tea!
Behave, and we will post some more again soon

Love
Rutur

Reykjavik - Paris - Damascus

Vid Rutur attum yndislega daga i Paris - daga tar sem vestraen menning var kvodd med stael. Kampavin a Champs March, forum ut ad borda a Traditional French Cuisine stad, settumst a kaejan okkar vid Passy og fengum okkur ol - og satum svo yfir turista bokum og veltum fyrir okkur komandi ferdalagi.

Lentum i gaerkvoldi i Damascus, klukkan var ta taeplega ellfefu her. Fengum satt ad segja nett sjokk tegar leigubilsstjorinn brunadi med okkur a oupplystum gotum a 120 km hrada i algjorri umferdakaos tar sem born satu i opnum skottum bila og 10 manns svo i fartegasaetunum - svo voru einungis fimm.

Skradum okkur inn a hoteldi en forum svo nidur i gamla bae, keyptum okkur falafel, keffiyeh og sandala - og letum svindla pinu a okkur lika. Eftir roltid forum vid svo aftur inn a hotelid okkar, Damascus International Hotel, en tar verdum vid i tvaer naetur a fjorum stjornum. A efstu haed hotelsins eru storar svalir med utsyni yfir alla borgina - virkilega kosi ad sitja tar, horfa a Damascus ad naeturlagi og drekka Barada, sja graenu ljosin fra Moskvunum ut um alla borg.

I dag verdur tekid tvi rolega, skodud falleg Moskva, rolt um og fengid ser i goggin.

Hurra fyrir Syrlandi!
Gum.

p.s. setti inn link a myndasiduna okkar.

fyrsti október er,,,

,,, fyrsti dagurinn í mínu ferðalagi. Það hringdi eitthver snillingur í símann minn klukkan tvö í nótt, og eftir það hef ég ekki getað sofnað - nú er klukkan hálf fimm. Það fer að koma að því að mamma vakni, risti sér brauð og keyri mig út á BSÍ - ég ákvað að vera ekkert að þræla henni ut á völl og tek því bara flugrútuna. En ekki nóg með að vera bara ósofinn, þá er ég líka með dúndrandi hausverk eftir kampavínið, sem systir mín kom með til þess að fagna með mér, nýútsprungna bólu við hliðina á nefinu og 2. stigs hálsríg. Aftur á móti eru góðar líkur á því að ég detti útaf í flugvélinni ef ég drekk tvo bjóra í fríhöfninni (snjallt bragð, sjáðu til), að bóla hverfi og hálsrígurinn falli amk niður um eitt stig, ef svo má segja - sennilega mun ég þó vakna með hausverk vegna bjórsins. Á tossalistanum fyrir Leif eru; karton af sígarettum, íslensk nammi, flaska af viskí, geisladiskur og lambalæri! Eftir sex tíma lendi ég svo með góssið í rigningunni sem spáð er í París,,

á eftir að sakna ykkar!
ást, gmu.

Eftir,,,,

,,, fjóra daga, nákvæmlega, mun ég sitja á marsvöllum og sötra kampavín með Rúti - í hörku samræðum um hvernig ferðinni skal háttað. Aftur á móti eyddi ég deginum í dag í að pakka niður, kaupa lyf, færa inn á mp3-spilara af geisladiskum - eitthvað sem er ekki áhugavert að lesa um,,, Þegar Rútur var svo á landinu tókum við fimmtudagskvöld í að plana yfir öli og hitta svo Samir (Jórdanskan/Palestínskan) vin mömmu og Birnu, konu hans. Þau gáfu okkur góð ráð og bentu okkur á staði til að fara á. Gott kvöld - spiluðum Yatzi og Rútur vann,, :(

Nóg nú!

Kv. Gummi

Arabic/English

االيوم هناك تماما ثلاثة أسابيع إلى أن يصل نحن في دمشق مطار دوليّة في ربع إلى إحدى عشرة, حيث نحن كنت سنلتقط فوق وسيقود إلى دمشق فندق دوليّة. في ما بعد يتلقّى يكون يرافق إلى غرفتنا الخطوة تالية استطاع كنت أن يأمر طاولة لاثنان على السقف فناء مع [نرغيل] وبعض شاي أو تقاعدت إلى أسرّتنا [إين وردر تو] كنت طازجة ويتأهّب أن يبدأ الوسط - سفر شرقيّة!
___________________________________________________________________

Today there are three weeks until we arrive in Damascus International Airport at a quarter to eleven, where we will be picked up and driven to Damascus International Hotel. After having been escorted to our room the next step could be to order a table for two on the roof patio with a narguilé and some tea or retire to our beds in order to be fresh and ready to begin the Middle Eastern Journey!

Small deviation from the original plan

We recently found out that some friends of ours were embarking on their own journey at a similar time and would possibly be in Bangkok in early November. We had planned to fly to Bangkok late October and go directly into Cambodia in order to prevent too much time being spent there, as we intend to return to Europe from Bangkok, that is where we will end the trip. In order to spend a night or two with these travelling comrades we have decided to compromise a bit and go into South Thailand as soon as we arrive in Bangkok. This is logical because this way South Thailand will be explored by the time we enter Northern Thailand from Laos and this way we can return briefly to Bangkok to meet the Bakkelsisbeljur before going west to Cambodia.

But like with many things, nothing has yet been concretely decided. However the trip is looking juicier and more exciting every single day!

Reporting from the Asphalt production Site in Reykjavík

Rútur

Sýrlendingar í stuði,,,

,,, eða hitt svo heldur. Þeir segja að Ísraelar hafi flogið herflugvélum sýnum yfir landið og skilið eftir vopnasendingu í N-hluta Sýrlands, nærri landamærum Tyrklands. Það er sumsé töluverð spenna á milli landanna og möguleiki á að átök brjótist út, þar sem að Sýrlendingar eru alveg brjál. Ég veit satt að segja ekki hvort mér líst á að vera að ferðast um land þar sem er stríðsástand - það er að segja ef að því kemur. Við þurfum að skoða þetta allt saman, erum samt búnir að bóka miðanna svo að ef við förum ekki til Sýrlands, þá gæti þetta reynst dýrkeypt!

Ég var ekki búinn að segja móður minni frá þessu, einfaldlega af hræðslu við að gera út af við hana - en svo sá hún þetta í fréttum í dag, og liggur á gjörsælu (samt ekki),

Húrra fyrir Mið-Austurlöndum!
Gummi,

Whats the Plan, elephant man!?

We have now booked two tickets out of three and at a surprisingly low price. Paris -> Damascus was 320 (€) and Damascus -> Bangkok was 240 (€). We will however have to stay in the United Arab Emerites city of Abu Dhabi for several hours but we'll just stroll downtown to send a postcard or three, eat and head back. The only ticket left is S. East Asia -> Europe. There might be some inland flying in Asia, Viet-Nam into Laos for example because of few different entry points via land but that will be resolved on the spot. We have confirmed two nights at a fancy-pants hotel in Damascus, the first two on this trip at Hotel Damascus International. I presume it will be the only time we pay 50 $ for a night but we cant predict everything. After HDI we have reserved a small apartment in downtown Damascus for 10$ a night, for an entire week. We are still uncertain about where we are off to after Damascus but we have in mind to drop down to Amman for some time, mostly in order to book a ticket down to Petra. We also want to pop by the Syrian mediterranean coastline, beaches and sun and finally we want to see Aleppo, Syria's largest city in the North.
The route we will work in Asia is less certain but today the idea is to fly to Bangkok and stay there for a week give or take. Then leave Thailand and directly go to Cambodia via train, to Phnom Penh. From Phnom Penh we work our way to two other cities in Cambodia, return to Phnom Penh to take a train to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) in Viet-Nam. Then the Vietnamese coastline will be travelled south -> north, with Nha Trang, Da Nang, the wonders of Hué and Hanoi as the main destinations. From Viet-Nam we move west into Laos and spend some time in Vientianne. After Laos rural Thailand and the coast and possibly a brief look at the wonders of Myanmar's Yangon is last on the list before returning to Bangkok to catch a flight home in mid January.
This plan might change and probably will to some extent when we arrive and have to compromise because of potential problems but I am quite fond of this predestined route and it is impossible to describe how excited I am! The food, the temples, baths, people, rural Asia, the Mekong River!

I must return to work, the asphalt production has begun once again and money must be made in order to enjoy the next four months!

If anyone wishes to receive postcards we need to know where you live, most of you have left for University somewhere and so I wouldn't mind gathering the addresses and phone numbers!

Au Revoir!

Rútur

Staða undirbúnings uppfærð,,,

Nú ert allt að gerast; er verið að vinna í að bóka síðustu flugmiðana, skipta um gjaldmiðil vegna hruni krónunnar, fá loks upp í hendurnar vegabréfsáritun til Sýrlands og verið að punga út tugþúsundum í bólusetningar. Rútur þurfti að greiða tæpan þrjátíuþúsundkarl fyrir sitt - og ég bíð bara með hjartað í buxunum eftir að lyfin lendi á seyðisfirði, þá dreg ég upp budduna og rölti svo út af heilsugæslunni með auma og bólgna hend eftir 7 sprautustungur, eða svo. Það eru að koma inn allskonar útgjöld sem ekki var gert ráð fyrir; flækir dæmið, en gerir það svo sennilega ánægjulegra á endanum.

Húrra fyrir malaríu!
Gummi.

Orientation before the journey begins!

My Eastern Icelandic friend Gummi and I have decided to publish our journey to Asia on this bilingual Blog. Gummi, a man quite fluent in his native tongue, will tell our tales in Icelandic while those more linguistically challenged will have to make do with English. This blog will remain more or less dormant until we have begun our trip, but that will be on October fourth; Damascus. We will do our best to publish frequently in order to satisfy the curiosity of those who care.

Rútur

Til að byrja með...

... þá var þetta bara fylleríshugmynd. En svo virðist hún verða að veruleika. Ég flýg til Parísar 1. Okt., þá viku á eftir Rúti, og eftir fjóra dag í höfuðborg Frakklands lendum við kumpánarnir í Sýrlandi; hver ævintýrin verða, er fátt hægt að segja um fyrirframm, en hægt verður að fylgjast með öllu þessu á þessari síðu sem fæddist fyrir örfáum dögum.

Koss og kveðja,
Gummi.