Day 40 Krak des Chevalier
SYNOPSIS: This is about how I met Hassan, and about the famous crusader castle Krak des Chevalier.WHERE THE CRUSADES HAPPENED AND HOW I LOST MY INDEPENDENCEThe bus I took this morning must have been from the 1920’s. Not the 15 person micro bus, not the comfortable, modern overland bus. But a full-sized bus with fabrics that were worn and torn. Temperatures were unbearable. Plastic stools were used to fill the aisles to above maximum capacity. And the motor sounded like it would give up the ghost at any minute. But we made it! Hassan got me onto it and instructed the driver personally on where to let me out. He made sure I got a seat – the bus was full when I entered, but a guy was asked to give up his seat. He was squeezed into the back row overstuffing it by one. Another woman entered and another guy had to give up his seat for her, ending up on a plastic stool in the aisle. Needless to say that there was no service on this bus not even a ticket.What is remarkable is how fast I lost my independence with Hassan’s overbearing taking care of me. Last night I struggled with the internet and the posting of the blog until 1:30 AM. In order to ensure a good night’s sleep, I stuffed my ears with ear plugs and took a sleeping pill. Even though it was 1:30 AM, I was unable to sleep because of some coffee I had earlier. I am not use to that. So this morning, I slept in. By 9:30 AM I woke up. I was surprised myself, how late it was. Remember, there is no loudspeaker to wake me up at 4:15 AM here. I immediately had a bad conscience as I knew that Hassan would have been waiting with breakfast. Who knows what else he was delaying. So I rushed through the shower, even though I would have liked to wash my hair… and got ready fast.Hassan was on his way to his building site. He is building a house which he will show me tomorrow. We took a microbus to the garage (bus station) where he put me on the bus – and paid for it, of course. But I did not know any of that ahead of time. He went out of the house and I started to run after him. I did not know which direction I was heading or what our next step was. I sort of guessed it. First, he went to the wrong spot. When we got there, he turned around, waived down a new microbus and on we went. No chance asking what was going on. At the garage I figured that he would look for a bus for me. But why not a micro? Why this big one? When was this big bus going? When I asked about that, he grunted something. May be, it was the time. May be it was just a sound that indicated that this was not a time of questioning. Or maybe it meant that all was going to be OK and therefore there was no need to ask about anything.I realized that I had completely lost control of my destiny! I know Hassan is a more than well-meaning host, but he did what his culture taught him to do: He took care of me. And by doing so, he completely “entmuendigt” me – I don’t have the English word for it. It is… stripping me of my capacity of thinking for myself and taking care of myself. I am sure he did not mean to, but that’s what happened.I had to take a deep breath – after 40 days of traveling in two countries where I did not speak the language, I had left the house every morning at my own time – that means when I was ready – left to the task of figuring out how to get to where I wanted to go and come back. Nobody helped me or guided me. I went on my own and not once did I get lost or did not manage. All this was taken from me in less than a day. Wow! I am not sure what to make of it. Is this indicative of the bigger picture? Is it just a host-guest phenomenon, a male-female issue, a native-foreigner result, or a personality trait?Let me give you a bit of background. I am staying at Hassan’s place because of my dear friend Maria from New York. By now you must have noticed her comments on this blog – she is the artist and hobby astrologer who read the stars for me before I went and whose website you should definitely check out if you have not already done so. Don’t’ miss it. It’s linked to this blog. JWhen Maria and I were traveling together last summer in Italy, she received a message from Hassan, a friend whom she met while studying in my home town of Dresden years and years ago! It was like a sign from heaven. She had not heard from him in years and I was going to Syria! What a coincidence. We responded to his message and he welcomed me to his home in Tartus. I am extremely grateful for this opportunity to stay in a private home for a few days. And I am grateful for getting to know the Syrian hospitality in its full bloom. It is a new experience!When I stayed with Setareh in Beirut things were different. Come to think of it: In Lebanon, I stayed with an Iranian who grew up in Germany; in Syria, I am staying with a Lebanese who studied in Germany; what a small and mixed up world! Well, Setareh did things the “European” way: She handed me the key, showed me the refrigerator and the washing machine, and that was the end of the story. I was on my own. We were independent to a degree that I wish had allowed for at least some time to interact. But she completely lived her life and expected me to live mine – which I did.Hassan, on the other hand is eager to be a host. I don’t know what his plans would be if I were not here. He seems to adjust his time in order to help me out. He cooks breakfast and dinner; he gets me to the bus, calls to figure out where I am and when I come home. As much as I appreciate it, I also realize that this is a bit of a culture clash: I don’t want to interfere in his life. I don’t want him to have to change his plans because of me. But I don’t want to reject any of his gestures of kindness either. This is a fine line to walk and I am not sure I am walking it correctly.But back to the events of the day: I got on to that 1920’s bus which left me at an intersection leading to the castle I was about to visit: Krak des Chevaliers or Qala’at al Hosn as it is known to locals. From there I took a taxi to the hill top. No microbus service. I am sure I could have hitched a ride, but I saved that for later.The castle is mainly from the 12th Century and represents one of the most significant crusader’s castles in this region. Up to 4000 men and 400 horses could be housed and fed there (admittedly, this is my guide’s information and some books say only 2000. I am sure you can google it if you care. It is impressive to walk on territory on which the crusades actually happened! The crusades seemed always such a distant thing. But here is where history was made. This, and the many other castles in this area changed hands many times going back and forth between Christian and Muslim forces. Bloody battles were fought around here in the name of religion and over the nearby holy land.This is one of the most complete castles I have ever seen. Two castles, really. An outer one separated by a moat from an inner one. 1000 soldiers could live in just the outer part. Kitchens, bathrooms, toilets, stables, watch towers, all are preserved. If you are into medieval things and knights, this would be a dream come true! The views over the fertile Orontes valley are spectacular. The valley is littered with green houses which grow fruits and vegetables out of season. It is green everywhere you look.The castle was very significant since it was near what was called the “Homs’ Gap” – that is a passage through the Anitlebanon mountain range that was strategically priceless. Whoever controlled it was guaranteed control over the Syrian hinterland and its resources. Funny enough, the castle today was crawling with actors dressed in green outfits; many looking like Russian Cossacks (spelling?), who were part of a comedy that was filmed there.Even though I am not that much into medieval castles, I enjoyed myself. After my visit, I decided to walk down the hill – cutting down on taxi services and photographing the views. That was fun. I had barely gotten back into town via microbus, when the phone rang… Hassan wanted to know where I was. He was surprised to hear that between walking down from the castle, being dropped off at the highway turn off outside of town, taking a microbus to the garage and walking my way through unknown quarters of town back to his apartment, I had not taken a taxi and had not gotten lost.Good night.