take me out of the city where my thoughts can roam

After spending the summer in various cities of various sizes in various countries, I decided it was time to let my thoughts and my shadow roam free. The original plan was to spend time in turkey while waiting from a friend from Sweden to arrive to Istanbul. Instead, I landed in Istanbul at 10pm, took the metro to the central bus station, hopped an overnight bus to Sofia, Bulgaria, then another 6 hour bus to Bansko, a small mountain village. Situated in a deep valley between the Pirin and Rila mountains, Bansko was the perfect setting for some quiet wandering, a little writing, some hiking, and with a little bit of luck, some work on a local farm.
Upon arrival, I was aimlessly wandering the half empty streets looking for a place to lay my head when I stumbled on a three stall farmers market. There was one lady selling the usual fruits and vegetables, another selling potatoes and onions and a man named Illian selling all sorts of peppers. Hmm interesting, here was a man selling a variety of peppers in a tiny town of no more than 1000 people. I had to find out more. After a short conversation about what on earth an American, an Iraqi American nonetheless was doing in these remote parts of Bulgaria, I convinced him to let me help out on his pepper farm for a couple days for a free place to stay. The next two days were spent either nailing the bottoms of wooden fruit crates or walking the long rows in the pepper fields marking the location of dead plants.
Illian and his family took good care of me and fed me well. However, I was ready to make my way to the mountains that were staring me in the face the past two days. I packed up my things, rented a tent and made my way out. The Pirin Mountain range is in southern Bulgaria and is known for its sapphire blue glacial lakes. The mountain range itself is comprised of tall steep peaks with wide valleys that hold over 130 lakes. The valleys are flush with vegetation while the steep peaks are either blanketed in snow or made up of large slabs of sheet rock. This made for a beautiful contrast of life and lifeless.
The first 3 days of hiking were spent solo. I took every opportunity I could get to take a refreshing dip in the glacier relic lakes. The peacefulness and stillness of the mountains brings a fresh breath of life into the lungs of anything living. It’s no wonder the Dalai Lama finds his wisdom in the vastness of the Himalayas.
On the third day, I met a Bulgarian married couple from Sofia, Todor and Tsveti. We happened to be hiking along the same route so they invited me to tag along and enjoy some company. This was extremely welcomed after 3 days of no human to human contact. Todor is a real estate broker from sofia that lost his job after U.S. Banks ruined everything for everyone and decided to take extended camping trips with his wife throughout the Balkan Mountains.
Being from the West, I was extremely curious about the Eastern Block and about life in Bulgaria under communist rule from 1950 to 1989. They told me of the better, more secure life under communism while I tried to explain the benefits of democracy (that is, if you still consider America the voice of the free). Todor and Tsveti are old enough to remember the communist regime and what it was like. They spoke of how back then, the mountains were full of Bulgarian hikers and campers because everyone could afford it and had the time off. Now, the trails lay abandoned while people slave away in the city trying to make ends meet in a society that has left the majority worse off than before. Sounds like an all too familiar story.
Its 5am, and I’ve spent the night in the Sofia bus terminal waiting for my bus back to Istanbul for the last week of my sojourn. A week in the mountains was just what I needed before returning to a year of grad school, projects and deadlines. It will soon be time to return home. In the end, the rivers return to the mountains, but carry with them the wisdom of the sea – A.R.

Holy for all, peace for none

within a few days spent in Jerusalem, Israel, and Palestine, a human will experience intensified emotions of every type. From religious fulfillment, to sadness to anger to compassion to frustration. Its all there. I dont know which describe here with the few words and limited time i have. Why did i choose to go to Israel? the two most important reasons are to get in touch with the christian faith within me and to see first hand the conflict between israel and palestine. I can sit here and write about how i got held up for 9 hours at the israeli entry border solely because my parents are Iraqi. Or how all palestinains are treating like sheep by 19 year old female soldiers barking orders at 65 year old men and woman. I can attempt to illustrate the power of Jerusalem and all its holiness. The millions of christians, muslims, and jews that bow to their respective prophets/messiahs/gods only seperated by walls. or i can go into the absolute mistreatment and inhumane conditions of some of the Palestinian territories. How in Khalil there are over 4000 IDF troops defending 150 Israeli settlers that hurl rocks and foul toilet water down at the palestinian market goers. Or how about the fact that every palestinian I came across tried to kill me with love. For its the only weapon they have. The only means of getting people to comprehend their situation.

On my second day in Jerusalem, a few palestinian boys gave me a secret tour of the city. They took me to rooftops that only locals knew about. jumping from rooftop to rooftop Alladin style. That night, I along with a few friends I made at the citadel decided to return for a sunrise experience on one of the rooftops that had an unparalleled panoramic view of the Church of the Holy supulchre, The Western Wall, and the Dome of the Rock. The morning sun brought a unique juxtaposition of the ringing church bells, muslim prayer calls, and the sun illuminating the behemoth Wailing Wall.

8-mile meets Amman

The music playing at the gym is less than ideal for a get-pumped-motivating type workout. The awful house/techno music is more along the lines of “let me put on my white patent leather shoes, Armani exchange shirt and hugo boss cologne and lez go pick us up some ez em pitches wella bro.” luckily I brought my ipod shuffle loaded with good ole rock your pants style music. The usual suspects are all in there: PJ, Tool, Linkin park to name a few. Coach muhammed asked what kind of music I was listening to. It just so happened that I was reppin our very own Detroit native Eminem. He instantly fell in love and asked me to burn him a CD. Who am I to say no to introduce 8-miles pride to the rough, tough streets of Amman (If you’re reading this slim, I want royalties). Like Donnie Brasco, I just got made. The flat bench clears when I walk into the gym now.

Born again

when you travel, you sort of feel a sense of rebirth. Your in a completely new environments, the days last longer, the sun hangs in the sky a bit longer, and in most places you dont even speak the language. Its what being a baby entering the world for the first time must have felt like. You see the wonder in everything because its all so new. This is explains the simple feeling of happiness that comes with traveling. Every incidence becomes so much more important. Everything is so clear. Sounds, sights, smells and touch are as vivid as can possibly be. Being in a foreign environment also forces one to tear down the "isolated self" that we so often build in America. You open yourself up to complete strangers because they are the best, if not the only resource you have in difficult circumstances.
The most ordinary of events, such as witnessing someone daydreaming, feels like an episode created by God only for your viewing. This is an episode I never want to miss. Its the only show im eternally addicted to.

I have been in Amman for a little more then a week now. And although the city itself is taking some getting used to, i find the culture and people almost second nature. Middle-east is in my blood. It feels good to see what the world is like which my parents and ancestors have seen for centuries. One of the oldest continuously settled cities in the world, Amman has seen its share of rising and fallen empires. The city is situated on vast, steep rolling hills. As such, the city has a vast network of centuries old brick walls to keep the neighborhoods from pouring downhill. Neighborhoods look bizarrely similar and the roads look like someone threw spaghetti on a piece of paper and decided to use that as a blueprint for a road system. Being the pro-transit fanatic that I am, I decided to take a bus to work on my first week. Lets just say I ended up in what looked to be the beginnings of the Sahara Desert.

After realizing bussing it just wasn't going to work, Ive resorted to walking. I begin morning with a 2.5 mile walk underneath an orange sky, up and down steep hills along symmetrically aligned houses all in uniform brick and concrete construction. I'll take a break midway at Kelhat cafe, where I usually drink 2-3 arab coffees with some lebna and zahtar bread. The menus are in arabic, since I'm illiterate, the waiter just let me go to the kitchen and point to what i want.

Amman has experienced short explosive growth periods. Once with hundreds of thousands of palestinians in early 1950s, and again recently with the arrival of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi refugees (may God be with them). Because of the huge inmigration periods, half settled districts and camps have appeared on the outer fringes of the city. One can notice dozens of proudly displayed Iraq and Palestine Flags dotting the lowskyline of the districts.

Its 2 a.m. Shortly, I will be awaken by the first Withan (muslim prayer call on loudspeakers). However, I have grown to like this. The first call is at 3:45ish, its like waking up to a short lullaby and being able to fall soundly asleep for a few more hours. I must admit, its rather calming.

the colors of earth

a day of rain makes sitting in an internet cafe updating thoughts and experiences the only logical thing to do. thinking of everything that has these two eyes have seen and that these two feet have walked across. the feelings i have now will fade with time somehow. how can i hold onto these feelings. can i jar them up somehow and release the scents, the views, the feel, the smells, peoples faces, the moments anytime i want. can i keep them for when i need them most will i ever be able to recall the silence on a crowded subway in medellin, the taste of exotic fruits in bogota, the look of a cowboy as he corrales his cattle in argentina, the smell of fresh grapes in mendoza, the jolting yet rejuvenating feeling of swiming in glacial relic lakes, the music of chilean folklore. how can i bring myself back to these moments.

i spent a couple days in mendoza, argentina drinking gallons of great wine and eating kilo after kilo of succulent steak. i thought i arrived with enough time to hike up to base camp of Mt. Aconcagua. The tallest mountain in the western hemisphere at almost 23,000 ft. I knew i wasnt prepared to make the summit, which has been a dream of mine since childhood, but at least making it to base camp would be a thrill. Unfortunately, the climbing season ended days before i arrived. I fortunately met jose, a 48yr old chilean who has been living in sydney for 15 years who just made the sumit a week before. listening to his story and the struggle of climbing in an oxygen depleted atmosphere that is inhospitable for any creature or plant alike, against -30 below temperatures means that i will have to come back to argentina to stand ontop of this earthly creation at some point in my life.

regardless of weather or not i was able to make it to base camp, i had to at least see the mammoth mountain with my own eyes. There was a short 2 day hike, where, if the weather was just right, you could see the summit behind its more modest peaks. by the time i made it to the camp (not base camp, just a camp along the hike) it was beginning to get dark and the ridge was no longer visible. so of course im going to wake up before sunrise and watch the sun reveal the snow covered peak. slowly, and carefully, as if it was a slow dance with the land, the suns rays slowly began to reveal peak after peak, casting long shadows on the wayward side of each mountain, watching the shadows move across the range till the sun was actually visible making each shadow disappear, untill finally the top of aconcagua towered over every other feature.

imagine seeing multiple colors expose on a cliffside of a mountain. colors that you only thought could have otherwise only been seen in a rainbow. these colors were brilliantly displayed in the barren hillsides of hamuhuaca in northern argentina. cerro de siete colores, the mountain of seven colors, is exactly that. except i think i counted more then 7. rolling hillsides and gentle sloping mountains of different minerals being exposed at different times show how even mountains can have life of color to it.

May life be too thrilling to want to read this, or may it perk up a particularly dreary day with a little bit of distraction from the far reaches of the Southern Hemisphere.

thumbing my way

lets see, where did i leave off. oh yeah, im a professional hitchiker. or so i thought. i took a bus from bunoes aires to bahia blanca, where i figured it would be an easy straight shot across the pampas (flat plains) of argentina to patagonia. i got off the bus terminal and walked 4 miles to the outskirts of town where i posted up next to a petrol station soliciting for a ride west. i presented myself in my cleanest attire and sporting a clean shave and groomed curly fro. this to assure any weary picker upper that im just a good ole american hitchin south america. my first ride was a group of 3 argentians on holiday from school headed north to cordoba. alejandra, carlitos, isabelle. thankfully they spoke a little english so the conversation wasnt to stagnant. it was a 10hour ride that consisted of mate after mate. we would stop at people houses along the way, just random people, and ask them to boil some water for us. wed leave 15 minutes later with a thermas full of hot water, and steak sandwiches everytime. at the junction of routa 151, they turned to head north, so i had to get off and find my next ride west. i was left staring at herds of cattle and absolutely nothing else. i figured it couldnt be that far to the next town. so ill just walk along routa 22 to the next petro station and surely ill find a trucker willing to help a lost kid. there was no next town. at least not in the direction that i was walking. pearl jams "thumbing my way" got heavy rotation for the next 3 hours. finally, just as the sun was setting, a stroke of luck came and a trucker pulled over and took me to my final destination. marco was a 39 year old delieverer of refrigaration systems for restaurants to store meat. mucho surpriso. finally, 29 hours later, i made it beriloche. the first city of many that i will visit in patagonia.

I was immediately awe struck by the natural beauty of lake nauhi huapi and hit the ground running. i went on a 2 day mountain bike ride through roads that wind and curve around majestically clear lakes. whenever i got thirsty, id simply stop, walk to one of the lakes, and knees down and drink. the best water ive ever had. now this is what i call mountians and lakes.

one afternoon, i was consulting my lonely planet on what to do next. a german girl named zena asked what i had planned next and asked if i wanted to go with her and her 5 year old son on a day trip to hike through some caves. "sure why not, and maybe on the way back you can drop me off at the bus terminal so i dont have to walk there or catch a cab" i said. complete miscommunication. she had a rental car and therefore had limited miles she could put on her car. we got to the caves which was about a 2 hr drive from beriloche, and did a short hike and when i asked her to take me back 2hrs to the bus stop, she looked at me dumbfounded like i was crazy or something. this was not the plan. the plan was to come back to beriloche and head south. instead i was literally stuck with a woman and her kickin and screaming 5 year old for the next two days will we made it to the next town. it turned out to be great though. we picked up one hitchhiker and drove down deserted dirt road routa sieta lagos (7 lakes road) and came across the most stunning lakes ive ever seen surrounded by towering snow peaked mountains.

we seperated in pucon chile. when i think of pucon chile, i think of me being kindly asked to leave a bar. i went on a volcanoe hike with 4 people from isreal. after the hike got canceled due to weather, we decided to go to a bar and get some drinks. now i tried my best to leave politics and worldy affairs aside when traveling. theres just so many other things to talk about. one of them asked what my nationality is. so we got on the topic of iraq and saddam. and they strongly disagreed with everything i said as i strongly disagreed with everything they were saying. it turned into a 15 minute standing, nearly shouting match until a waitress came up to me and kindly asked me to leave. id be glad to. check please.