Tourist in Syria, Crimes Against Humanity Daraa: Is this your 1st call to Syria, the passport control man asks me. No, I say him; I came here once earlier over a 10 ago. He stamps my passport. I had been very lucky to get a Syrian visa this time. The travel advice wasn't to call. The Syrian regime is very wary of foreigners, fearing that journalists and spies are inflaming the situation additional. I collect my bag and walk through customs, passing a poster, of modest size, of President Bashar al-Assad with the words in Arabic proclaiming: "Leader of the youth, desire of the youth." I jump in a taxi. I ask the driver how is things in Syria. Things are good, he assures me. There's been some difficulty around the nation, but things are OK in Damascus. As we drive, we chat. He points out the area where Druze lives. With his hand, he waves in another direction to wherever Palestinian refugees live, then over again to where Iraqi refugees live. Alawites are over there and in villages. Christians these way and in villages Sunnis are around sixty-five percent of the population. Kurds live in the north. A lot of different folkses live in Syria. I ask him how he knows who someone is or whether they are Sunni or Shiite. He tells me that he doesn't know and it doesn't interest him to know: there's no sectarianism here in Syria. We pass Damascus University. Outside there are lots of flags and images of Bashar and his deceased father. Across the city, the Syrian flag is flying strong and pics of the president are omnipresent. As I drive through al-Umawiyeen Square, I see lots of young men and women gathering holding Syrian flags. It isn't a demonstration, a Syrian tells me, and it’s a celebration a celebration of the regime. After, I see the event on TV. It's made the international news. 10s of thousands of Syrians have come out to al-Umawiyeen Square to show their support for President Bashar al-Assad in a lively celebration which admits pop singers and fireworks. When I had called previously, the city had been filled with huge images of Hafez al-Assad; and Bashar had been studying ophthalmology in London. The death of his elder brother, Basil, in a car crash, propelled him back into the family business of ruling Syria. In the evening, I stroll down the street to a restaurant. It is very modern and western. All you can eat sushi for $20. I try to read my emails on my blackberry. I switch between 2 different networks. But can only receive GPS not GPRS. The restaurant claims to have WiFi. I ask the waiter. There is WiFi, he tells me, but it's not working at the moment. Internet access is limited. I walk through souq al-hamdiyya in the old city of Damascus. It is a wide, pedestrianized street, two-story high, and covered. It's buzzing with life. Store owners sit outside their shops, trying to entice potential customers. Traders sell their wares down the middle of Wall Street. Walking with the flow of folks, I emerge to find the Umayyad Mosque direct in front of me. I go to the ticket office, pay the entrance fee for foreigners and collect a hooded grey cloak to cover myself. The cloaks come in three sizes. A woman sitting there directs me towards the smallest size. The cloak stinks and I wonder when it was final washed and how a lot of women have had to wear it in the sweltering summer heat. I put the cloak on over my dresses, pulling up the pointed hood to ensure my hair is covered. I enter the Umayyad mosque built on the site of a shrine dedicated to John the Baptist looking like a member of the Ku Klux Klan except dressed in grey, and carrying my shoes in my hand. I wander into the covered area where hundreds of folks are praying, men in one area, and women in another. I walk out to the courtyard. In one area, a group is seated on the ground. One man is kneeling, raising his arms, weeping "ya Hussein." The others follow suit, tears flowing, looking quite distraught.Tourist in Syria, Crimes Against Humanity Daraa:
