is a pleasant noise the sound of high notes of violin music on the radio mixed with Mohammed Ahmed who paints in the other room. Yesterday I entered my new (temporary) home on the slopes of Mount Qassiun, Muhajirin district. In one fell swoop I have the impression to have achieved many of my expectations for the next (last) two months Damascus to live in this area, outside the village with the locals, perhaps even interesting. Certainly, compared to the previous home I can not say I have seen many improvements in terms of comfort home, here there is not even a washing machine and antiquisssima imagine, even the fridge. But I feel very well be the same, talking and listening to stories of penniless thoughts and eccentric painter, musician, and enjoy the cool solitude of the neighborhood.
For the record, in any case, this is a temporary arrangement and within two weeks, we should look for another set casa... ma l’idea rimane quella.
Domani iniziano anche i corsi di arabo all’università.
E oggi il presidente della Siria viene “rieletto”. Una storia tragicomica e angosciante di cui vorrei parlare molto, ma non credo sia il caso. Diciamo solo che è un momento molto particolare per la storia della Siria, che fa capire molto di questo paese, ma che lascia anche totalmente sbigottiti, increduli, e incazzati. Cercherò di inventarmi qualcosa per parlarne.
The Jordanian public transportation system sucks. To be precise, there is a declared willingness to suck. A istritatijiya as they say in Arabic, to encourage tourists to take taxis and public transport and spend more. From Amman to Petra there are no problems, but the situation becomes dramatic when you want to go to the village of Petra: only one bus at six in the morning, but as a charter party only if there is a lot of people. And that's what we have taken the morning after visiting Petra. Travel by bus at the dawn of a gloomy Friday then, to the pluriesplorate expanses of Wadi Rum in the company of a lonely Japanese girl who speaks little English, and two Jordanian boys cute and slightly obsessive.
Before arriving in the small village close to the desert we stopped the huge Visitors Center, a brand new and quite disproportionate to those wastelands, who runs the tourist traffic and organize all sorts of excursions: the Wadi Rum is a protected area the risk of environmental and economic impact on the fragile nature and Bedouin populations.
We can only stay in front of shocked at prices much-more-than-European guides, camel rides and 4x4, up from 20 € per person for a couple of hours. And so we agree that we will discover Wadi Rum on foot, alone, with a rough map. Perfect, if only we reach the village of Rum enveloped in a thick fog that leaves no space nor imagination nor the desire to discover. The German girl just climb on the bus tells us how we move from here also giving us a hearty breakfast, then turned into a main meal of the day. I got off the bus in the middle of the village, welcomes us into the house a certain Mohammed Sabbah, we discover to be the largest manager of Rum about every type of excursion, in the various pluricitato LonelyPlanet and Routard . An interesting character, from strong across the desert, very professional and serious in the way of welcome, not like many others, obsessively looking for something to sell. And the rooms for sleeping, which shows us, quite spartan, but only 2 dinars a night, convince us without any hesitation. He explains that his is an advertising system, keeps prices low, so the tourists speak of him, spread the word to friends and the Internet, and so does business: it seems a good system. Although dusty mattresses, friends cockroaches, toilets flooded, the greasy kitchen, make us realize that something in the economic system of Muhammed could be improved.
We are a bit 'put off by the thick fog, even begins to rain, so we throw a couple of hours on the mattresses sperando che qualcosa migliori e cercando di fare passare un po’ il sonno e la stanchezza del giorno prima. Ma alle 10 e mezzo è ancora tutto grigio, e decidiamo di andare lo stesso, non si può certo stare tutto il giorno chiusi in una fetida stanza a contare le zanzare. L’uscita dallo spettrale villaggio è a sud: semplicemente finisce la strada e comincia il deserto.
Un’altra mezz’oretta a piedi sulla sabbia fortunatamente indurita dalla pioggia, e arriviamo ai piedi del ripidissimo monte dal colorito rosso e dalla conformazione simile alle pareti di Petra. Sotto l’ombra, in lontananza, un gruppo di macchine parcheggiate, dei bambini e dei punti neri e bianchi che si muovono confusamente: la grande famiglia beduina si riposa e beve tè, e le donne ci chiamano gridando “welcome, welcome”. Un po’ sospettosi, ci avviciniamo, ed è la svolta of the day: the householder makes us sit down and immediately offered us tea and roasted lamb, we present sheepishly and eat under the gaze of curious children, women and girls in group sessions at a distance. All barefoot, the older lady in solitude, far behind a car, the father and Kefia jalabiyya (white dress) and his mother sitting next to us while we are being offered to all without stopping. Unfortunately, the Arab 
La lunga sosta con la famiglia beduina, da cui ci congediamo dopo poco, è stata decisamente la dritta , il contatto più diretto e naturale con la cultura del posto e anche il giusto riposo nelle ore più calde della giornata. Insistono molto per invitarci a passare la notte nel loro villaggio, ma per questioni tecniche non è possibile, abbiamo la roba in ostello e ripartiamo la mattina dopo.
E noi leave here happy and relaxed through the desert under a blue sky and a sun that finally even beats so its rays on a sandy increasingly red. We visit the minicanyon the end of our mountain, in front of an oasis shaded by green trees, and we continue through the clear desert, returning to the north, trying to follow the directions confused the map. We go well in a narrow valley between two mountains, more dunes, lots of pictures as the sun moves eastward, and the coolness of the afternoon gives well-deserved relief. At one point, however, lose sight of the path of the map and pros 
an evening spent relaxing and un'agognatissima pasta with tomato sauce ... another absolutely beautiful day.
Once awake at dawn to be able to take the bus ghost that should lead us to Aqaba, Red Sea, bordering Saudi Arabia . The Wadi Rum is bright and clear morning, and we're sorry a bit 'not having experienced the thrill of spending a night repaired on some high ground under the stars.
this time the bus is full of ladies in black, many with the burqa, and boys who go to work somewhere. Travel just an hour, passed the checks - Aqaba economic zone is protected - and we are on the outskirts of the seaside town. Our goal is a bit 'further south, about fifteen miles from downtown, on South Beach , the river just before the border with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, where we have to look for accommodation for our holiday at sea. The square, Omar, a taxi driver, convinces us that there is no public transportation - they have suspended a month ago, says - and brings us directly to one of two resorts on the present coast, from the unattractive name Bedouin Garden Village. In fact, the village, about twenty meters from the beach, it is very 
immediately to the sea, the uncrowded beaches and a bit 'shabby - dirty and moist sand. And that's the only hassle out of these two magnificent days Mariners Arabs and women in bathing suits. Difficult to judge and not get caught up by the nerves at the beginning: boys and men who pass you stop and stare insistently and brazenly kidnapped by several centimeters of flesh visible to the extraordinarily alive. Passano, giggle, talk, turn the corner and back, sit close, and perhaps worst of all truck drivers are on their way to Saudi Arabia who stop by the roadside and close the curtains to watch from afar. You do not control, it is evident, for example because they do not seem notare che le (poche) straniere presenti sulla spiaggia sono quasi sempre accompagnate dal marito o dal compagno. Credo che il tipo di ragionamento che facciano è questo: il marito permette che la donna sia nuda e visibile e per questo potenzialmente “disponibile”, perchè non dovrebbe essere guardata? La cosa dà estremamente fastidio all’inizio, ma poi, dopo averci fatto l’abitudine, non ci si fa più caso, o si comincia a immaginare cosa significhi per loro la vista di un’occidentale. Alla fine, a noi non cambia niente, dà un po’ fastidio, e basta, ma a loro? Non è ancora più maledettamente frustrata la loro sessualità dopo un episodio di questo tipo? E ancora, pensi a loro and feel a strange compassion (wrong, probably) and you understand that from our point of view, certain things are beyond and above them the situation is always very frustrating. How could I ever imagine my life thinking that it could not even know a girl in costume, unless it is my wife.
After touching the clear blue sea and walked tra i coralli, e stabilito che davanti a noi c’è Eilat, la città più a sud di Israele, a sinistra c’è il canale di Suez, e a qualche bracciata di nuoto, l’Arabia Saudita – tutto così vicino in questo disgraziato Medio Oriente! – decidiamo di fare un giro in città. E così facciamo una rilassante passeggiata sul lungomare illuminato dalla dolce luce del tramonto, Parte dal porto e finisce al centro città, molti baretti sulla spiaggia, bancarelle di souvenir, e i bambini che fanno il bagno. Anche qualche donna fa il bagno: vestita, col velo, o col burqa. Uno spettacolo che lascia inevitabilmente sbigottiti e perplessi. Per esempio... come fanno ad asciugarsi? È un sentimento di angoscia and incomprehension at the sight of these scenarios, contrasted with the serenity of the sunset and sip mint tea that we under palm trees, the beach.
The rest of the city, McDonald's, the little park where children play happily, the shawarma restaurant in the open, flowing all peaceful this evening with the scent of Sicilian summer and makes a great desire to come home.
It is offered on Sundays as a day dedicated to that wonderful thing that is the sea. The Arabs there are few people working, and we tan in the shade of umbrellas such as salamanders and under the clear water of the Red Sea. Masks, fins and tube, three hours past heavy browsing on the beautiful coral reef, extricating himself among the millions of 
the evening in the calm of our beloved village could only end with a well-deserved dinner of fish, the better.
Beach holidays ended much too soon ... I love life by camping! (In May and September faqqat )
It leaves us in the Red Sea also present a beautiful tan-colored lobster, which nevertheless looks more like a shining burn, so much so that our poor shoulders and everything to burn to tan crazy, and make up our backpacks became the worst nightmare. And change definitely our plans to go even to float in the Dead Sea and insalinarci: the idea that they were still in the sun leaves no doubt and we decided to bring forward by one day of departure. Also because there are no money ... Last
then spent days in Amman, a walk, fuck, sleep, read, eat fried chicken in the only restaurant open across the middle (!). We also tried a quick visit to the Roman ruins of Jerash, an hour from Amman to, but it was just a nice walk around the bus and entrance to the site, because we got a bit 'late.
And on Tuesday, after another anonymous cazzeggiano before Roman amphitheater in Amman, the 15 hours we are on our luxurious Jett return to the beloved Sham - Damascus. She welcomes us into the cool evening with the warm feeling of a traffic and return home. hamdulillah al-salama!
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