April 28, 2008: Aleppo, Syria to Adana, Turkey

We almost didn't make it into Turkey from Syria. Turkey recently passed a law that no trucks older than 20 years old could enter the country, and, of course, BiRT's registration says 1988. It was unclear from several sources (including various governments) if 1988 was or was not an acceptable year. For several weeks we weren't sure if we would be able to cross the border and there were at least 47 different contingency plans floating around should we get stopped, all of them a complete pain in the ass.

Tensions were high so there was only one thing to do: watch Rambo 4 at the movie theater in Aleppo, Syria the night before we were going to attempt to cross the border. Yes, Rambo 4 was playing in a movie theater in Syria and we figured that few things could match watching a gratuitously violent American film in an Axis of Evil country. The bonus was that it was a double feature. I can't even remember the last time I saw a double feature. I think it might have been some sort of cheesy ABBA movie lead in paired with Return from Witch Mountain. But I date myself. Granted, the first movie was a Chinese martial arts flick filmed in Australia dubbed over in English with Arabic subtitles, but it was still a double feature. Although mostly empty, the theater was quite splendid and even had a balcony where management seated our group. Yes, not only was there an usher, but a fellow walked around selling sodas. How cool is that? That's service we just don't have stateside any more.

The movie was, well, rather ridiculous. I watched it highly amused, yet acutely aware of how movies color people's perception of America, and Rambo 4 is not something I would choose to use as a point of reference for America. One thing I found most surprising was that nothing had been censored out of the movie. I was expecting some of the language and perhaps some of the women's bare shoulders to be edited out, but nothing had been altered.

The whole experience made me realize that going to the movies could very well be a bit of an erotic thrill for Syrian men. Not a single woman was in sight that night -- not in the theater, not down in the lobby, not entering or exiting the restroom -- and it appeared to be a men only type experience. All the movie posters were, um, enhanced. Although not especially erotic by Western standards, the posters had been altered so that even Nicole Kidman had prominent cleavage. That may not seem like a big thing, but in a country where exposed elbows are practically viewed as another pair of breasts by the older generation, exposed cleavage is huge. In fact, as we were leaving the theater, which had turned out the lights in the lobby exit, men were looking at the movie posters featuring prominently exposed cleavage with flashlights. Flashlights! That's not exactly something a person carries around with them, especially when they are not an usher.

So, with the terse dialogue of Sylvester Stallone in our ears and the non-existent yet somehow still extraordinarily large cleavage of Nicole Kidman in our minds, we trotted back to our hostel (with a falafel stop, of course) and said a prayer that BiRT would make it across the border to Turkey.

And, what do you know, our prayers were answered! BiRT was on the bubble but ok, and we were so excited that we stopped at a duty free shop on the border between Syria and Turkey. It was, hands down, the best duty free shop I've ever seen. Everybody went crazy and bought outrageous amounts of chocolate and alcohol which must have been quite a sight. Imagine 12 homeless looking people running up and down brightly lit aisles throwing booze, chocolate, and snacks excitedly into their overflowing carts with abandon. The duty free shop had no idea what hit them. But, come on, when Laphroig scotch is $30 for a liter, how can one not stock up for the next year? I got so caught up in the buying frenzy that I even bought another point and shoot camera. I believe it was at that point that the manager appeared, pledging his eternal gratitude to me. He did actually come talk to me and asked me if I would fill out a customer satisfaction card. I gladly and heartily endorsed his shop as the best duty free shop I've ever had the pleasure of spending an obscene amount of money in.

Fresh from duty free and literally bouncing up and down with excitement that we were allowed to go through the border, it was inevitable that we should break into our new purchases in celebration. Here's the result.

The beer that started it all. And from Danny's home country to boot:Nathan in repose: When nature calls we all piled into a toilet in a random town. Counterclockwise: Mav, Aidan, Hannah, Diana, Me. In a rare moment, I'm the only person smiling semi normally:

Bathroom photo #2. Nathan, Gail, and me: Aidan needs to fix the split in his trousers. Might I suggest industrial tape?: George takes Paul out for a spin in a supermarket parking lot. Apparently the staff ran to the windows to view the antics: Group photo on BiRT. L to R: Diana, Mav, Hannah, Danny, George, George's dirty foot, Aidan, Gail, Nathan, and Paul: The return of the pirate flag!:Everyone spots Hannah as she attempts to boulder into BiRT after a toilet stop:
Nathan and Hannah get caught in BiRT's windstream: Danny plows into the lake at our bushcamp. Note his Crocs floating in the foreground. George made a raft and sailed them out into the middle of the lake later:
Gail and Hannah struggle to tango:
Danny and Mav after a post lake dip pose with...sheep. Nice farmer's tan by the way, Mav:
Henry enjoys a well-deserved rest:
The anti-family portrait. Hannah, George, and Henry:
Sunset at our bushcamp:
Aidan gets buzzed by George The Barber:
Is George trying to feel up my girlfriend?:
Kids following BiRT on bikes as we drive through a random neighborhood:
Hannah forgot to wash...15 days ago:

Ruth beats Mav at arm wrestling?: After our beautiful bushcamp, we pushed on to Adana. Adana was great because, although it is a large city, there didn't seem to be many tourists around so everyone was super friendly and nice. One morning Diana and I were looking for a coffee shop when a fellow stopped us and asked if he could help. We explained we were looking for somewhere to sit down, have some coffee, and chill for awhile, and he personally walked us to this fantastic place 15 minutes away in an area we never would have found on our own (note to those looking for business opportunities: comfy coffee shops in Adana would definitely be a hit). Although Adana was great, it was bittersweet because we were dropping off a couple of members. Paul, another Yank studying in London, had to go take a final, and Maverick (aka Mark the walking jukebox) had to go back to work for the RAF. Aidan gives Mav a goodbye hug: