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.