7/7/2005 and Aleppo, Syria

Ten years ago I visited the beautiful country of Syria. On July 7th 2005, I was staying at the Baron Hotel in Aleppo and visiting the "Dead Cities" to the north. The following are some extracts from the introduction to my travel journal and my reflections on hearing the news of 7/7.

Rory's Syrian Journal

7/7/05 Aleppo Syria

In July 2005, I decided to visit Syria with my friend Peter McKinney. We had previously visited Iran together in 1999 and travelled with our band to Ireland (2003) and had tours to Bahrain, Al Ain and several venues in the UAE together. I think that a true test of friendship comes when you travel with someone and I am happy to say, we passed that test successfully.

We were fascinated by Syria. It was at that time categorised by George Bush as being part of the Axis of Evil. Both of us prefer to make our own minds up and this turned out to be a fascinating, educational and sensational (as in sensations and sensual) trip.

As I prepared for the trip, I collected the various samples of information that were sent to me from tour companies; reformatted and refined them and slowly, the most obvious itinerary emerged. A key source that I found very useful was that of Carol Miller and I attach her excellent background descriptions in the appendix section as they gave me the structure around which the trip was planned.

Carol Miller, a regular contributor to www.syriagate.com

My friend Peter was about to leave the U.A.E. after almost 20 years. I had known Peter since my first week in Dubai in August 1997. We had met at the “Dubliners” Irish Pub in the Airport Le Meridien Hotel. In those days, it had been possible to bring along your instruments and have sessions. It was not long before we had a band and over the next 8 years, we had some great times together playing in Dubai, Al Ain, Bahrain and Ardara in Donegal, Ireland. But after spending so long in the U.A.E., Peter, his wife and young family decided it was time to start a new life on the East Coast of Australia.

I had just had the shortest haircut I have ever had (close to a 1) and photos of the time put me in the aspiring skinhead category as does the video we had just made with Ricardo. Ricardo recorded an interview with Peter and I on the history of our band; “Next Flight Out”. It captures our friendship and many of the good times and memories of the band and can be found on youtube at:

 http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=1886E768361244C5 .

Peter left me to do the planning and then wisely advised me to cut off around 500 k of road travel once I showed the plan to him. I had prepared two parallel trips, the long way and the shorter way. The shorter way, favoured by Peter, prevailed.

Initially, Peter had only wanted to see Aleppo and a few horses of an acquaintance. My wish had been to see as much of Syria as I could in the time available. Peter still had work commitments and packing to arrange and had limited time. In the end, we compromised and I was able to see many of the places I had planned to see while Peter managed to squeeze a few more days and places in.

As usual, I began my planning by sending off a standard e-mail to many travel agents based in Syria. Once a few replied, I began my negotiations and cranked up my demands each time. That way, I got rid of the greedy or lazy agents and was left with a few to choose from. The one I felt best about, and it turns out I was right, was “Al Bichr Travel Agency”, which was run by the lovely Rafa. She really looked after us well and we are still in touch to this day.

http://www.albichr.com/home_en.php

And so, in the early summer of 2005, Peter and I set out on a journey to Syria...........

Extract from the journal linking 7/7:

We had lunch in the area of the “Dead Cities”* in a rough-and-ready Kurdish restaurant. Although I didn’t note the content or flavours of the meal, I did note its effect; it burned every part it made contact with during and well after the meal.

It had been a busy day, and we had spent a lot of time in the summer sun, and as we drove past towns and people in the pictures below, we drifted in and out of drowsiness to the calming songs of Nat King Cole.

Meanwhile, and it seems strange now as I think about it, while we were listening to Ahmed’s favourite Nat King Cole cassette; “Mona Lisa, “Love letters from Your Heart” and “Smile” the bombs were going off in the buses and underground trains in London.

* (The “Dead Cities” were so named due to their abandonment as a combined result of the plague, changing power structures and abandoned trade routes. They were Roman and Byzantine settlements; numbering up to 700 in various locations and collectively inhabited by large numbers of people. Although many sites still lie under the accumulation of nature’s reclamation, some settlements have been excavated or stand tall and they are impressive examples of Byzantine architecture and their former prosperity).

Gago's Birthday (1928-2011) 5th July

Today is my father-in-law, Gago's birthday. He would have been 87 today.

When I asked for my future wife's hand in marriage, as was the custom in Armenia, Gago refused me. It was quite a public refusal as a table had been set and lots of witnesses were present. I can't say that I held it against him, but I did like to remind him of it (from time to time), when we took him abroad on holiday together, much to the amusement of his wife and my mother-in-law, Shura.

I dedicated my book about the lost lands of Armenia; Rory's East Anatolian Journal to both Gago and Shura and include that dedication below.

Rory's East Anatolian Journal

This book is dedicated to my parents-in-law Shura Khatchatrian and Anoushavan (Gago) Gokoyan. I learned a lot about life from both of them.

Shura and Gago

            Shura and Gago were brought up in the Soviet Union during the hard years and repression of the 1930s and the terrible war years of the 1940s. They came from the village of Kamo, Armenia. Gago had looked after the sheep in the hills in his youth and Shura was the daughter of the village headman. Gago was too young for the war, although one of his brothers was lost during it. Shura was one of seven sisters. Her only brother died tragically, during military service in Russia. After completing the obligatory fours years of military service, Gago married Shura and they made the big move to Yerevan. Life was not easy, but it was better than in the village. Gago sometimes worked at three jobs, just to make ends meet. They had been given a flat by the state and they made a home in the suburbs of Yerevan in the area of Zeitoun.

            However, those facts of their upbringing are not important. I never heard them bemoan their hardships or complain about the past. Their lives were dedicated to their family of four daughters. This family expanded, after first one daughter, then in quick succession, the other three daughters were married and grandchildren appeared, adding to their joy.

            Shura was the example of the selfless mother, who had raised four beautiful and talented daughters and had encouraged them all to complete their higher education studies. She was the one everyone came to when they had problems; the wise one, the calm one, the one with the endless fount of anecdotes and jokes for every occasion. She could make people laugh or comfort them or bring calm to the seeming chaos all around. She was a rock but a very soft one. Whenever I spoke to Shura, or I should say, she spoke to me from abroad, all I would hear were her thanks and multitudes of blessings and wishes for my health, my wealth, my happiness and for that of my near and extended family. Not much was ever said by me as far as news was concerned but the blessings from Shura were manifold and sincere.

            Gago worked a lot. He was a man of habits but he could break them too as he proved when he stopped smoking without any preliminaries or fuss. He was always the best dressed in his neighborhood and he was the one who did the shopping at the market on foot as he had learned frugality from his upbringing and would never take a taxi when a trolley bus, tram or “marshroutniye” taxi were available. He was always, deep down, a simple man, who appreciated everything with such genuine and almost naïve pleasure and fascination. This quality was so spontaneous, that you could show him the same sight or place on successive days, and each time his reaction and delight were as if he were seeing them for the first time. That is a rare quality in our fast-paced society. The same was true with his favourite food or drinks. Each time he had them, it was as if he were tasting them for the first time and the thanks and appreciation were profuse. When he phoned us from abroad, once more, very little news was exchanged as he showered his blessings and thanks on us and on our family. When his grandson David called him from Los Angeles, David would cue up and play his favourite song “Ararat” by Arto Tunboyacian and the Armenian Navy Band, loud in the background and he would laugh each time uncontrollably like a child.

            The village Kamo, where Shura and Gago came from, had also been known as Gavar and Nor Bayezet until 1959, when it was re-named after a Communist hero. Nor or New Bayazet was named after the village in Turkey, Dogubayazet from where Armenians had escaped the massacres of 1915. Dogubayazet is the other side of Mount Ararat and the starting point for climbing expeditions in search of Noah’s Ark there. Thus, I would be visiting the ancestral homeland of many of the inhabitants of Kamo. 

            My life has been richer for having shared it with Shura and Gago. This book is in fond memory of them.

Mum's Birthday and Graham's Retirement 3rd July 2015

The third of July 2015 was an important day. It was my mother's 89th birthday and my brother's retirement day.

First my mother:

Pat and Dallas meet in Menton, France

Patricia Mary McKenna, was born in 1926 in London. Her father, Ardel McKenna, was a Scot from Denny. His grandparents had come over from Ireland and many of his uncles lived in England. Ardel may have started working in the mines and volunteered as a teenager for the army in 1914 and survived some of the worst battles of the First World War. He became the batman for Major General John hay Beith (Major General John Hay Beith) also known as Ian Hay, a famous writer and dramatist, who then employed him as his head butler in his London house after the war.

Ardel McKenna (my grandfather)

My mother was born 8 years after the war to end all wars and when she was 13, the Second World War broke out. She had to move house twice after her houses were damaged in the Blitz and she was evacuated from London with her younger sisters. She missed her schooling due to the war, but taught herself French and worked in Paris after the war. Then she met a dashing war hero and Scottish international rugby player and that is how I and my brother and sisters appeared. After bringing up 4 lovely children, she trained as a primary school teacher and worked at the same school as my father (and all of us)  the High School of Dundee.

She is now completing her fascinating autobiography for her grandchildren, her great grandchilden and her close family.

Now to Graham, on 18th August 1975, is 21st birthday, he began his illustrious teaching career in the Gordon Schools, Huntly. He was quickly promoted, married, raised a lovely family and is now a young grandfather. He is a talented musician and has just joined a pipe band and is in demand as a solo piper, has given concerts in Poland and Dubai and at is in great demand for weddings.

Graham and my son Phil making music in Glenesk

Meanwhile, I was taking the scenic route to completing my first degree, having spent a year in France and another two years of University and Teacher Training College still lay ahead of me before another year of meandering (but working too) in Italy.