Michelle May

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I decided to hire a taxi to go from the site of Palmyra- in the south part of Syria- to the Northern lake of Al-Assaad.  A private taxi made it so I could stop by a few hard to reach ruins in the middle of the desert in Bedouin territory.  On the way i saw many herds of camels which looked like tiny ants on the distant dunes.  Surpisingly we met one herd near the main road, inbetween Jebel Abu Rujmain and Jebel el-Bishri.  Having your own taxi lets you say “Stop please” unlike when on a public bus.  For about 20 minutes we got to leisurely watch hundreds camels crossing the (barren) desert and lone main road.  Above are a few photos- also please note the hunky Bedouin camel herder.  He motioned for me to get on his camel- don’t tempt me mista!  It was nice to really forget about everything and just feel the presence of life being lived while watching those camels… usually I have more of that on my travels- which is why I travel…. this bit of travel that’s been delayed, but now that I’ve gotten a taste i hope for more of it- am just getting started afterall.  XO, Love, Michelle

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 Friends warned me – long before my latest visit in Iran- to take great care with who I speak to & what I say while in Syria.  I’ve been told that the secret police and paid informants are *everywhere* in Syria- have been for quite sometime.  Traveler friends who had been in Syria also let me know that the government there closely tracks what net sites people visit & read the blogs of travelers currently in the country.   A friend of mine had an incident where she wrote about a conversation she had with a Syrian bar owner on her blog- something pretty benign in fact- yet the police took this bar owner into custody & beat him up for a few days- even after my friend was out of the country.  Suffice it to say that after Iran I really wanted to skirt across Syria with no major incidents or “interesting” conversations with strangers.  Yet here are a few examples (details changed so to protect anyone from being identified) of times where even the most well traveled of us, could get really paranoid:   

One day during tea with a jewelry shop owner, he broke into a spontaneous Hebrew lesson, and talked at length about how many Jewish friends he has.  Hey Mister, I do not doubt it but I also have a hunch you could be possibly a paid informant, trying to bust me for supposedly having gone to Israel (It is not allowed in Syria- and besides, I have not been to Israel).  I gave him blank stares hoping he would stop.  I tried not to accidentally nod.  I tried to change the subject.  He relented- I told him I had to go- that I was late to meet a friend.

Waiting at an office a man who spoke perfect English asked if he could sit next to me.  Sure.  He then whispered that he is a Kurd.  When I ask him to repeat himself because I could not hear him he looked panicked and said “don’t say that out loud-I can be arrested just for speaking to you about it.”   When I told him, with hesitation (after Iran) that I had been to Kurdistan, Iran- He again plead with me while whispering “Oh god! Don’t tell them that- you can get in so much trouble.”  It was awkward to say the least.  I asked him to kindly stop talking to me about it if it was so risky.  Before he left he grabbed my hand “Do not tell anyone, I beg you- they will put me in prison.”  Something tells me that he was genuine.   He truly seemed scared but also dying to talk to someone.  Conversations I have had with other travelers since then, suggest that some Syrians see us foreigners as “safe” people to talk to. They keep it all in for so long so they see us, if they speak English, they go right in for the punch.

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Moving onto Syria from Lebanon took a bit of cajones.  Normally I do not fret about places that my government labels a rogue state, but because of what happened in Iran, the thought of entering Syria did cause several more knots in my stomach than normal.   When my Lebanese friend I was staying with in Beirut dropped me to catch a bus half way to the border, her parting words were uncharacteristically harsh “If someone kidnaps you it is because America essentially bombs our country and is responsible for killing thousands of women and children.”  She was talking about a long line of US approved Israeli bombings in Lebanon, of course- and I hear her on that, 1000%.  As her and I had already discussed this, I thought she understood that just because I am a citizen of the US does not mean that I approve of or agree with what my government does (like any place).  In fact, I can object to and completely disagree with what they do.  However, she did not let up, making me feel like she was blaming me personally.  Fair enough- I understand it is a very sensitive issue and she has had to live it 1st hand… but why was she going into this so harshly- now- and saying things that she knows will scare me given what I went through in Iran?  I did not want to show any disrespect for her hospitality the past few days so I did not debate, and instead simply nodded.  “So don’t tell anyone you are American- tell them you are Irish.”  Her words felt aggressive and displaced.  I also knew I have been very sensitive to everything since Iran- so  as is common on this trip I walked away not really knowing what to say or think or do. 

As I boarded the bus several keffiya -clad men made space for me, and helped me with my bags.  Seating was tight so I had to share a seat with an old man.  He pointed at himself and said “Syria- you?” “Irlandi” I said, feeling unconvincing.  As we rolled through the hills of Mount Lebanon and into the Bekka Valley, people on the bus offered me cigarettes (very common) and nuts.  Their smiles said something different than my friends parting last words.  My head began to feel more clear the further we got from Beirut.

in an hour we entered Bekka Valley- where I had been with my friend in her village the weekend before.  I had to get a share taxi to take me across the border and then to Damascus, Syria- only about 90 minutes away.  A few taxi touts argued over me, and made a scuffle, trying to take my bag from the other- in the end I went with an old Lebanese man in an old lime green Mercedes Benz, with a backstea so saggy and worn that I could feel the coils of the springs below.  I sat in back with two Syrian men who smoked nonstop; in the front with the driver were two sisters from the Bekka valley- clad in black abayas, they smiled at me and spoke perfect English.  They smoked skinny girly cigarettes, and made small talk with our driver who also lived in the Bekka Valley.   I had to level with them that I was American as we were going to go through immigration together.  “I am very sorry for what my country has done to yours” I said.  “Why do you say you are sorry- we know that governments are very different than the people! We love American people- please do not worry.”  Their response was something I had heard many times in Iran.  Was there just a difference here between the more kind country folk and the western-like city folk?  I decided to assume the best.  Their kindness and genuine care seemed real.  One of the girls turned to me “Our own people cause death and destruction for us. Our government and groups in Lebanon do not do anything good for us, so please do not worry about anything your country may do.”

Immigration and customs were uneventful.  Because I was a foreign woman going through immigration by myself they opened a special line for me.  My passport was stamped within a minute.  The Lebanese girls were held up longer- Syrian officials drilled them with questions about their health- apparently concerned about swine flu. 

Once in Syria we stopped at a highway underpass in the middle of tan colored desolate hills.  One of the girl’s husbands, who is Syrian, was in a car parked under the overpass- waiting to pick the sisters up.  They gave me their number and insisted I come back to Bekka to be their guest at Christmastime.  The driver and the girls argued over whether or not he would let them pay for their ride- they wanted to pay- he kindly refused.  Finally he accepted their far, of four dollars.   I then moved to the front seat where I attempted to put on the rusty lap safety belt.  Maybe this was the first time the belt was used in a decade?  “Why did you say that you were sorry about your country?’ the driver asked as he helped me force the seat belt buckle in the rusted slot.  he appeared concerned that maybe someone made trouble with me.  “We know Americans are good people- even Hezbollah say that- Americans are good people but sometimes their government is bad.  Obama is very good- but Bush, he was very bad!”  I relaxed.

Lebanese taxis are not allowed to drive in central Damascus so I had to be dropped off on the outskirts of the city- my driver negotiated a good price for me with a regular Syrian taxi.  As we began to pull out a man in a suit waved us down and got in the car.  In perfect English he struck up conversation with me.  He asked where I was going and what I was doing in Syria.  He said he was just in town for a conference at the University.   Suspicious Michelle thought- hmmm—is he the secret police?  I kept my conversation with him clean- something I became very good at the next 10 days in Syria.

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July 7, 2009, Beirut, Lebanon

After my run-in with the Basij in Iran, I had to come up with a back-up plan for my summer travels.  I decided to visit different parts of the Middle East, starting with Beirut, Lebanon.  I told Beirutis of all religious faiths- Christian, Sunni, Shi’a- that I was in Iran before arriving to Beirut.  People’s reaction to this was pretty consistent.  Mainly they voiced that they feel Iran is “extremist” and has “too many rules.”  One person told me “I am Shi’a and I would never go to Iran- what for?  They have no music, no dancing– the life there is too strict.”   When I try to explain that life behind closed doors in Iran is actually far from extremist, Beirutis remained unconvinced.  If I view my choice to go to Iran- three summers in a row through Lebanese eyes it appears to be much more masochistic than I find it to be. 

An American woman who has a love for Iran is an anomaly in Lebanon.  To many here the US and Iran are already at war via proxies, on their land.  Lebanon had their own close election one week before Iran’s.  Among those I spoke to who voted for the victor, Hariri, they said did so to vote against Hezbollah and Iran.  While some of those who voted for Hariri voiced appreciation for the support they feel Hezbollah provides, they strongly object to Lebanon becoming in any way like Iran.  “Ahmadinejad and some extremists in Hezbollah want Lebanon to be the next Iran- we cannot- we have too much joie de viere for that.” 
When asked what they thought of the recent protests in Iran, a Shi’a famliy responded “to be honest- we do not care- we have enough problems here.  Iran has added to these problems.”  I told them that it was rumored in Tehran that some Lebanese fighters had been flown in to fight the protesters after the election- their response: “Iran gives some people money here- it seems plausible.” 

Beirut is known for it’s religious diversity.  Here I have met Christian-Muslim couples, as well as families consisting of fully covered moms with uncovered daughters, and women sometimes wearing the headscarf but then a skin-tight outfit.  I have seen young couples canoodling at the mall, as fully covered grandmothers examine sequined bikinis on mannequins- sights I have never seen out in the open in Iran.  As expected, I was told life outside of the capitol city is very different.

I went with one of my friends to her family’s village in Bekka Valley where many Hezbollah live.  As we entered her village banners of Ayatollah Khomeini, Ayatollah Khamenei and Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah were front and center, causing a knot in my stomach.   As I tried to, and eventually did relax in this village, my friend told some of her relatives of my love for Iran.  Although definite Hezbollah-backers I was surprised that they responded with “Iran very bad- extremist.”  I asked them if they would ever visit Iran, to which they gave a look suggesting that thought was crazy.  “Why the Ayatollah banners then?”  I asked.  They reported that it was all about funding.  We also spoke to a few people in the village, at a bakery.  They turned the questions onto me, “What is really going on in Iran right now?”  ”Could it really be a fraud election?”  They seemed surprised by the possibility that Ahmadinejad may not have really won. 

When I asked the Hezbollah-supporters I met if they would like Lebanon to follow in Iran’s footsteps- they responded with a resounding “no.”  Like in Beirut, many said such an Islamic Republic and lifestyle like Iran’s simply would not work in diverse Lebanon.  As my friend and I walked home to her house, the call to prayer began to sound out of the village mosque.  At the same time, young people “promenaded” on a central street.  They walked, rode ATVs, and drove in souped-up cars with blaring sound systems while checking out the opposite sex in tight jeans and big hair.  The dueling car sound systems drown out the call to prayer.  As we moved away from the promenade and back to the main road where the Ayatollah banners were, I noticed an advertisement banner for a women’s beauty salon beneath one of the banners of the Ayatollah Khomeini.  A picture of a smiling woman with bleach blond hair, heavy makeup and tight clothing looked surreal next to the Ayatollah Khomeini’s furrowed brow and grey lips.  Lebanon truly is diverse.  It is difficult to imagine it ever having rules like Iran, even in a Hezbollah Village.

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Hi, Have not blogged in a long time for probably obvious reasons- while in Iran i knew that was a no-go.  In Lebanon & Syria I did not want anyone there to be able to track me or know where I was- call me paranoid ; )  I feel i have to address a few questions that have been raised following what happened in Iran:

1. What happend to me is NOTHING compared to what the Iranian people live with- especially now. 

2.  I have been to Iran three times- the past three years my focus has been on fostering understanding between the everyday people of America & the everyday people of Iran (not our governments- i am not a politician).  Having everyday people understand eachother when we have few opportunities for real life ineraction is a massive undertaking, that of course i know i am not able to single-handedly tackle-but- as I wrote here long ago- this is just my tiny meagre contribtion to that.   Iran is a very different place than what was portrayed in the media the past few decades (since June that is changing).. I wanted to let everyday Americans know the truth about Iranians-since they are truly hospitable kind people- quite different from what we saw in teh media.  I have written about this before, been interviewed by journalists in the past, and have also spoken at events such as the Axis Of Friendhsip festival in 2008 regarding my hopes.  I did not go to Iran in June as a novice who was ”swept up” in the “trendiness” of the green wave.  I have many friends there -some of who are like family- I like to see them- they mean alot to me.  I wanted to be with my friends there during what potentially could have been a positive time.  No one predicted the situation to deteriorate as quickly as it did.  No matter, the real reason i was abudcted by the Basij is because they & the government do not want ANY foreign eyes there to witness the atrocities happening.  They were trying to intimidate & scare ousiders to leave.  They saw me read CNN- a news site that their government has conveniently deemed ”terrorist trouble maker.”  it really had far less to do with teh interaction i had wit the undercover Basiji & more to do with their zero tolerance policy that started the day before (ironic since i was trying to read CNN to find out just what was said at the Ayatollah’s prayer- and what did it mean- for me- a foreign tourist, ie: should i leave?).

3.  When you see a brief clip of a much longer interview focusing on the fear I felt when abducted I know it may appear naive & foolish- to trust someone in Iran.  Fact is human beings make decisions based on what they have been conditioned and actually experienced in life.  Would I let a stanger hail a taxi for me in Moscow?  No.  Would I agree with negative comments about the government in say China?  No.  Would I walk home in the dark a half mile from my own apartment in San Francisco?  No.  However In Iran- by all means yes.  In my past experiences in Iran the vast majority of people there verbally bash their government- all the time.  In hindsite i see that it was a hyper sensitive time and i could have exercised more caution- but lesson learned.   Unfortunately now i think there wil be many more secret police.  Don’t feel sorry for the tourist- feel sorry for the everyday ppl who have too live there under such renewed oppression of all divergent thought & idea.

4. I am now in Jordan- I let a young man (stranger) hail a taxi for me yesterday.  In this part of the world hospitality is unparalelled- much different than in a western nation.  As i have said here on my blog over the years- I find Iran to be THE most hospitable and one of the safest nations I have ever  visited.  The custom there is “the guest is next to God.”  We stand so much to learn from this.  I am sorry if it seems naive - because in reality it is not.  if you are paranoid- you are the one who misses out.  I and many others travel b/c we like to experience something different from our own culture.  I do not travel with my guard up in places which have proven that they could be trusted- this was literally the 1st time i have ever been stung by trusting too much in the middle east.  Granted, i now have adjusted how I travel and have been far more cautious.  I am sure I am missing out on positive experiences with people as as result, but it is just where I am at in my head right now.  Fact is most of the world is a very friendly place with good people- a small minority of people are bad eggs.  The bastard Basiji who got me was just that- a minority in a nation of good people.   The only way to truly know that and trust this though is to get out & experience it.

Peace,

Michelle

Tags: ABC, abduction, CNN, elections, Iran, media.