Sit right here and watch the sun disapper into the ocean...

It was high time for a mini-adventure. I've been spending so much time in one place lately, I'm getting anxious being so stationary. The lonely planet travel guide described Latakia as a little piece of Europe in the Middle East, so Justin and I decided to check that out. As much as I love this region, a little bit of Europe sounded like a welcome change of pace. We caught a train at 6AM, for the high price of 160SP, or approx $3.50, and enjoyed the trip on one of the nicest, newest trains I've seen thus far. Even had a DVD system playing a movie, but it was in Arabic and I didn't feel like trying to follow along that early in the morning. I spent the time enjoying the view, which wasn't as majestic as the travel guide said, but plesent none-the-less. Three hours and eight tunnels later we were in Latakia, on the other side of the mountains, on the coast.

We walked from the train station to the bus station, and got our return tickets in advance (no late train going back sadly). Then we set out, still walking, towards the ocean and after about an hour and a short break for pizza we found a stretch of beach with rocks jutting out the side seperating the public area from the small harbor. Justin hadn't seen the ocean in about three years, and while it had only been a couple months for me, it was still a very welcome sight. We sat there, feet in the water, reading, writing, talking, and enjoying the sun. As we got up to leave, my right boot finally fell apart as it had been threatening to do, and after trying to walk with the sole flapping under me, then trying to tie it on with the cords from cheap headphones from the train, I gave up, ripped the sole off, and walked unevenly on the bit of fabric remaining under my sock. Eventually we wandered back through the city a ways, and back to the bus station home.

Here we were in for a surprise however. Apparently, dispite our best efforts, our tickets were wrong. They had sold us tickets for the bus leaving when we bought them, instead of the evening one, even though the clerk had pointed at 6 on the clock and nodded when we bought them. It took us a while to figure this out, however, as they spoke no English, and I need to work on that Arabic more. The best we could do was say we'd paid in the morning (in Arabic), and they kept telling us to pay. Finally someone was fetched as a translator, and he told us they had messed up and sold us the wrong tickets and we'd have to buy new tickets. No way around it. Annoyed, we paid them again, another $3 each, and got on a rickety old bus from the early 70's. Sitting down in the bus I heard my pants rip, and the cheaply sown seem gave out. I was greatful I was wearing my black leggings underneath. For about two hours, I tried to keep my mind occupied with anything to distract from the dark narrow roads, crazy driving, and sheer drops off the edge of the roads as we wandered through the mountain pass back towards Aleppo with no defroster unless you count the two men with paper towels wiping down the window in turns. Three stops later, we were finally on flat land and the driver put away his cell phone, and the lasts half of the trip flew by on a straight well-lined divided highway.

We got back into town, took a taxi to our neighborhood, and stopped for sandwhiches before I walked the rest of the way to my place, ripped pants, missing a sole, but a not so restless as before.