2009 July « Mariyah's Blog

Sea Side – Part 2

July 26, 2009 at 6:11 am (Lattakia, Mediterranean Sea, Syria, Tartous, life, memories, travel)

It was the first time I had driven my car out of the city. In fact, it was the first brand-new car I ever owned. There were many firsts on this hot summer day not the least of which was the joy of privacy without the presence of total strangers in a micro-bus. The road back from Lattakia to Tartous looked vaguely familiar despite the thousands of round trips I’ve made over the last several years. Oh My God, this little jewel had a CD player and AC. Handel’s Messiah turned the asphalt ahead into a layer of clouds and a blast of soothing, brisk air blew over my face and arms. Goosebumps covered my skin, the combined effect of the ecstasy of being engulfed in heavenly music and the unfamiliar caress of comfort titillating my body. I’ve never been as happy with a material possession before as I was with my blue Hyundai I-10.

I caught myself smiling in the rear-view mirror. Wasn’t that a first too? Of all the back roads and highways I’ve traveled in Syria nothing compared to the 90 km stretch between the two neighboring and rival cities. The road hugged the unassuming slopes and snaked around the more eminent ones while maintaining a perpetual view of the Mediterranean. No sooner than a natural obstacle or a man made obtrusion hid the horizon to the west than the blue sea reappeared, glorious and pompous. The reflected rays of the afternoon sun danced on its ruffled surface with a million shimmering flickers. I wished I could roll the windows down and inhale the salt in the air but I couldn’t give up on my novel luxury, not now at least when the outside temperature soared to the mid-thirties.

Driving on the highway alone was a joy I’ve been deprived of most of my life. I didn’t expect to be so relaxed and so able to absorb the scenery around me. My eyes were wide open taking in the small details on both sides of the road. The smell of the imitation leather tickled my nose and the little birds down in the pit of my stomach chanted a tune of hunger. On a Thursday afternoon, with very little to do and no one to be with I could further celebrate my car’s maiden voyage by treating myself to an early dinner. All I needed was to find the right place to eat.

I wanted to get closer to Tartous but not too close. I’m a territorial creature and the further I was away from home the more estranged I always felt. I’m also a creature of habit and never was the spontaneous man I dreamed of being. My mind raced with the familiar names of restaurants along the way but perhaps being in such a state of bliss itched the dormant sense of adventure in me. I slowed down to a cruising speed of around 80 km an hour, craning my neck left and right in search of somewhere new. I absolutely had no idea what I was looking for but as I passed one small restaurant after another large one the purpose of my search continued to elude me.

My mind wandered into the past. I was a little kid with mom, dad and my two brothers. Every summer, my dad managed to hire a taxi at least a couple of times and took us somewhere to spend the whole Friday. There weren’t many taxis in Tartous back then, four or five at most. There weren’t many restaurants either, four or five as well, but we rarely went there. My younger brothers’ and my favorite destinations were those close to a river, any river near the city. My mom would spend the evening before preparing and filling the baskets of food to take along. She would cook a large pot of Mjadra and place it at the bottom of the wicker basket. She would then top it off with onions and pickles and leave enough space for the knot of bread my dad insisted on buying fresh in the morning. In the other basket she packed Labneh, cheese, olives, eggs and olive oil for our immediate breakfast when we arrived at our picnic area. She also filled a thermos with hot tea to the rim and brought along whatever vegetables and fruits we could afford. Naher El-Hsein was the closest river to the north and my absolute favorite. It was lined on its southern bank with smooth black and white pebbles and clear sandy spots here and there. We had to rise very early, by six o’clock, to be there on time and pick a prime location not too far from the water. There were dozens of other families in Tartous with limited dreams and means like we did. Oh well, those were the happy days.

The bend and the twin eucalyptus trees concealed the bamboo awning until I almost passed it. I slowed down and looked over my shoulder and was immediately taken by an innocent sense of rapture. That was it for me. That’s exactly the place I was looking for. I pulled to the side and drove in reverse the sixty or seventy meters till I reached the front of the small structure. I killed the engine, stepped down and walked toward the three steps that led to the elevated terrace underneath the awning. An inadvertent deep sigh escaped the bounds of my lungs. A soft breeze stirred the green branches above and the leaves, the multitude of them, sighed with me in chorus. I was no longer encapsulated within my air conditioned bubble yet a shiver ran through my body. Half a dozen tables occupied the spotlessly clean terrace. They were all empty except for one. I saw a woman’s back as I narrowed my vision to my choice table in the far corner. She was wearing a light summer dress with a floral pattern and as I passed by her, I closed my eyes, stumbled, then went on shaken and a little dazed. Did she smell of jasmine and lavender or was it only my imagination?

© Mariyah Ayoub and Mariyah’s Blog, 2008-2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mariyah Ayoub and Mariyah’s Blog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Collaboration

July 24, 2009 at 4:30 am (Lattakia, Syria, Tartous, blogging, friends)

Abufares

Mariyah

Hello readers,
Many of you are already in the know, but for those of you who missed the latest news, here it is. The story of “Sea Side” will be a collaboration between me and the brilliant and indespensible Tartoussi blogger, Abufares. We will alternate episodes and bring you a story, an adventure, with the backdrop in the beautiful Tartous/Lattakia region of Syria. Its ending will be a surprise, even to the two of us. We look forward to writing (in fact, I’m ecstatic) and even more to be joined by all of you on our journey. Look for Abufares’ first post coming soon.

See you there – by the Sea Side.
Mariyah

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Sea Side

July 19, 2009 at 2:18 am (Lattakia, Mediterranean Sea, Syria, Tartous, life, travel)

It was the bamboo awning that caught my eye. Not that these types of awnings are a rarity, its just this one looked particularly effective and it was the only one on the main street. The sun illuminated it in the haze of the afternoon and it beckoned me to the shade it could provide underneath. I hadn’t walked far. The town was small, but the heat was unbearable. I couldn’t even enjoy the humble beauty around me – I needed a cold drink.

Outside, five or six tidy white tables stood crisply under the canopy. I sank into a chair at the one closest to the store front and waited only seconds to be served. A bright, lovely woman – about my age – smiled sympathetically at me.
“A tall glass of water to start?” she asked.
“Oh yes, please.” was all I could muster.
In a flash she was gone and returned with what I so desperately needed. “Thank you.” I practically gulped the contents and immediately began to feel life replace the exhaustion that had consumed me.

I looked around. All was quiet aside from the cicadas chirping loudly in the thickets nearby. A few cars whizzed past, presumably on their way to Lattakia or Tartous but none stopped in this pretty, seaside village. The draw of the larger centres and beaches was more appealing I suppose. Not for me, though. This was precisely where I wanted to be. I wondered what this place was like when livelier, this cafe that stood so proudly on the corner. What kind of crowd did it attract at meal time? The locals? Travelers? Who? I thought maybe I’d stick around to find out. I pulled out from my bag my pen and notepad and began to write. As I set pen to paper, I suddenly got that spontaneous urge to stay as many travelers do when they find a little piece of heaven along the way.

Laughter from inside caught my attention. I hadn’t really noticed the space beyond the window against which I sat. More tables, about the same number as outside, casually filled the small dining room. There was nothing remarkable about the décor, except to say that the room appeared light and airy despite the shade from the awning. Simple sconces hung on the walls – on both sides of the room and back behind the counter – and a wood burning fireplace graced the corner opposite the counter. I imagined that, on a cold evening or a dreary day, it would be a cozy and welcoming haven.

But today it was neither cold nor dark. It was a beautiful and typical Mediterranean summer’s day – despite the heat – or perhaps because of the heat. One cannot separate heat from a Mediterranean summer. Across the street, narrow roads led up into the hillside. Stone and whitewashed houses dotted the way, looking pleasantly quaint as only homes in villages can. The pretty server probably lived in one of those, able every morning and evening to enjoy the short walk to and from the cafe. I could just imagine the early mornings there, as the sun was rising over the hills – warm, with a hint of a breeze, and the scent of wildflowers riding silently on the air of the dewy dawn.

A low rumble in my stomach broke into my daydream as a waft of spices and seafood drifted enticingly by me. I felt as though I hadn’t eaten in days. I looked back through the window and spotted the waitress, resting casually near what appeared to be the kitchen door. She had been immersed in a book but as though she had a sixth sense, she caught my gaze within seconds of it falling on her. She smiled knowingly and approached my table.
“Hungry?”
“Oh, yes! Do you have a menu?”
“Not here. But I’ll tell you what’s being made fresh today.”
“Oh heaven.” I thought to myself and smiled back at her, enthusiastically awaiting her description of dinner.

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The Virtues of Blogging

July 12, 2009 at 6:42 am (Syria, blogging, friends, life)

As of late, my friends have been very busy – rewarding others and being rewarded themselves. I was very lucky to meet these friends through blogging – particularly over the last seven months during my posting of The Story of Ghassan and Alexandra. What they have brought to my life, are bright rays of sunshine and delightful reading at least weekly. I never imagined when I started blogging just over a year ago that it could be so rewarding. It has truly surprised me. It is a community which can quickly become very tight and interdependant in a most supportive way. And yet, outside of the blogosphere, away from the computer screen, each of us continues with our own separate lives. Some of the community have been fortunate enough to be able to bring the two worlds together. I would say they are very fortunate, in fact. There are many with whom I would dearly love to sit and sip tea and chat life.

I have to go back to November of last year. Well, actually before that. I wish I could remember exactly how I came upon his blog – probably through reading his comments on another blog. All I can say is that I’m so glad I found it. I have never read so much wisdom, depth, and insight coming from the mind of one so young. Yazan, on his blog On Olives and Sake, sees the world in such an intelligent and unique way. His ideas are often complex yet his writing flows so smoothly it settles in you like a soothing cup of tea. In trying to describe it here, I could never do it justice. I invite you, dear reader, to have a look for yourself. Yazan is also a writer for Global Voices and honoured me with a piece about The Story of Ghassan and Alexandra after I had written only a few chapters. For that I am eternally grateful, Yazan. Thank you.

Shortly after Yazan’s piece appeared on Global Voices, I was lucky enough to receive a few new readers, who eventually became people I could call friends. One of them was the enthusiastic Jillian. She commented after each chapter and was there to encourage me when I had fallen behind on my writing. Thank you, Jillian. Jillian has a wonderful blog on which she covers everything from politics, to culture, to personal perspectives on life. I visit often to Jillian C.York , her blog, but don’t comment as much as I should. Again, dear reader, you should take a meander through Jillian’s thoughts. I think you will find them most enjoyable.

The sweet and talented Gabriela made her first appearance after Part 6 of The Story of Ghassan and Alexandra, and became a close and fast friend. After discovering my site, she made an effort to go back and read as many posts as she could and to comment on them. This made such an impression on me, I naturally went to visit her site – Seis de enero (The 6th of January) and made the best of the Google translator (she writes in Spanish). Gabriela often writes about friends, and fellow bloggers – recommending their sites and enriching the blogging experience. Gabriela was recently interviewed by Global Voices for the role she plays in translating to Spanish for Global Voices and about her own blogging experience. The article is a great introduction to the woman who’s blog is a must read.

Dania, Yaser, and Fantasia also made themselves known over the course of the story and who’s blogs I’ve enjoyed visiting. Dania’s blog, My Chaos, covers everything from Syrian politics, to her astute thoughts on current events and life in general. Yaser has found a niche for himself by bringing us current events on the social and music scene in Damascus as well as advances in technology. Tajreed is a must visit to be up to date on the latest and greatest. Fantasia, who’s mind I greatly admire – she is forever thoughtful and analytical – introduced me to the most enticing and lovely erotica on her blog, Pillow Talk. Transcending vulgarity and domination, Fantasia’s writing brings a unique beauty to love making and sexual pleasure.

Last but definitely not least, I must extol the virtues of a friendship with the man who calls himself my #1 fan. Abu Fares, what would I do without you? Abu Fares has been with me since my first post on the blogosphere and has brought me so much support and delight. A more thoughtful, kind, and poetic man I have never met. Abu Fares’s blog, Abufares said…the world according to a Tartoussi…brings, unequivocally, the most rich, wise and intricate writing I have seen on the blogosphere. He has such a following that I’m not sure that I’m introducing him here but rather embracing an already well established voice on the Syrian blogosphere and beyond. Saying thank you doesn’t seem enough, Abu Fares, you’ve truly found a place in my heart.

I would never want to discount the anonymous or casual readers, or those without a blog (Katia). I appreciate your visits ever so much. I hope that, over time, we may come to know one another better. I also look forward to meeting more thoughtful writers and my hope is that I might draw them here not so much that they will read me but so that I can find out about them. What a small world we live in that we have been able to congregate and communicate and to build such a strong connection. But we do it with such diversity and individuality that in continues to be a fascinating and exciting place. My best to you all.

Mariyah

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