At the Roman Ruins in Bosra
The other day, my friend decided that she wanted to go visit the Roman ruins in Bosra (not to be confused with Basra, Iraq; I suggested that I'd rather go to Basra since I actually know people there, but she didn't go for it). I am ashamed to admit that I actually tried to wriggle out of the trip by pretending to oversleep, but since I somehow managed to set my clock two hours ahead and not notice that it was 8 AM and still dark outside, my plan backfired, and we set off at 6:30 as scheduled.
Aside from the 2 hour bus trip (which some poor guy that she knew and I didn't ended up paying for), the Roman ruins really weren't that bad. Since I used to study Latin many years ago, I was excited to read my first real-life Roman inscription. Scores of schoolchildren on guided field trips swarmed the area, and I realized the human truth that schoolchildren on field trips in Syria behave much like schoolchildren on field trips in America (and also that selling plastic flutes to large crowds of kids is not conductive to peaceful contemplation -- even though some of them put their flutes away after I put my hands over my ears in protest). We sat there at the top of an ancient Roman theatre and read out loud from her Syrian guidebook. And it was then that I discovered that the guidebook was wrong. The Roman theatre was not the most interesting thing in the city of Bosra. We were the most interesting thing in the city of Bosra. Kids crowded around us as she read out loud in English, and one continually shouted out the two phrases he knew in English -- "What's your name?" and "How are you?" -- at great volume until some lady shouted at him to cut it out.
My friend escaped onto the rocks and began leaping from one portion of the ancient roof from another. Lacking her sense of balance, I elected to stay behind, and a second crowd began to gather around me. As my friend bounded about, oblivious to my plight, about 40 Bosra-ites (yes, I asked, they actually were from Bosra) surrounded me -- mostly women and children. Although I have a fear of mobs just like I have a fear of heights, the crowd seemed friendly, so I tried to appear unconcerned. A boy took it upon himself to tell me each and every name of every person there, and also how they were all related. Several of the women pulled out cameras and took pictures of me, the ajnabi in hijab. (I found it odd that some foreign tourists were also taking pictures of me -- presumably as the token Syrian) I wanted to photograph the crowd too for posterity's sake, but unfortunately my camera was out of batteries.
All in all, it was a memorable day. It wasn't quite the day that the guidebook promised, but maybe it was better.
Aside from the 2 hour bus trip (which some poor guy that she knew and I didn't ended up paying for), the Roman ruins really weren't that bad. Since I used to study Latin many years ago, I was excited to read my first real-life Roman inscription. Scores of schoolchildren on guided field trips swarmed the area, and I realized the human truth that schoolchildren on field trips in Syria behave much like schoolchildren on field trips in America (and also that selling plastic flutes to large crowds of kids is not conductive to peaceful contemplation -- even though some of them put their flutes away after I put my hands over my ears in protest). We sat there at the top of an ancient Roman theatre and read out loud from her Syrian guidebook. And it was then that I discovered that the guidebook was wrong. The Roman theatre was not the most interesting thing in the city of Bosra. We were the most interesting thing in the city of Bosra. Kids crowded around us as she read out loud in English, and one continually shouted out the two phrases he knew in English -- "What's your name?" and "How are you?" -- at great volume until some lady shouted at him to cut it out.
My friend escaped onto the rocks and began leaping from one portion of the ancient roof from another. Lacking her sense of balance, I elected to stay behind, and a second crowd began to gather around me. As my friend bounded about, oblivious to my plight, about 40 Bosra-ites (yes, I asked, they actually were from Bosra) surrounded me -- mostly women and children. Although I have a fear of mobs just like I have a fear of heights, the crowd seemed friendly, so I tried to appear unconcerned. A boy took it upon himself to tell me each and every name of every person there, and also how they were all related. Several of the women pulled out cameras and took pictures of me, the ajnabi in hijab. (I found it odd that some foreign tourists were also taking pictures of me -- presumably as the token Syrian) I wanted to photograph the crowd too for posterity's sake, but unfortunately my camera was out of batteries.
All in all, it was a memorable day. It wasn't quite the day that the guidebook promised, but maybe it was better.
posted by Ayatollah Logic's Wife at 5:55 AM
1 Comments:
Super color scheme, I like it! Good job. Go on.
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