Who Ive Met ... and my byes to the Middle East

They say that the people you meet on your travels are what makes your trip so special .. so as my time away is coming to a close, I reflect on all the people Ive met, avoided, bumped in to, been served by, laughed with and yelled at .... Maybe this is weird, but I want to thank, remember and reflect on my little brain storm of people to follow ....

Sita and her sister who lived on the streets of Kolkata and did tourist’s henna. Meg and dave who I dragged to the blood temple in Kolkata. The boy who had one hand and who insisted on carrying my backpack for me in Darjeeling because I was sick.

The dozens of Indian men who insisted on having their photo taken in the classic "bollywood hero" poze.

The children in Amritsar who thought they were on T.V when they saw themselves on my digital camera screen. The ladies from the wildlife training group who I shared a train carriage with on the way to Darjeeling on the train, who bought me coffee, tea, biscuits and wanted to help us learn hindi, to make it easier to be in their country. In Amritsar, Kuku and his family, whose son had to return from Australia because of the Indian student bashings, yet who opened their house and their home to us to use as our own.. who took us to the doctors when I was sick and who brought tea up to my room when id been ill. The notorious camel men in Bikaner … Mamraj and the crew. John in Riskikesh ‘that’s oookaaaay’ and who when serving me a bowl of icecream, couldn’t get the scoop off the spoon so pulled it off with his fingers and patted down the entire bowl of icecream with his palm to make it flat! The idiot young boy in the lobby of Rishikesh hotel who insisted on calling me mooti every 2 seconds and considered it flirting. The women in pink on the local bus near pokran after the camel safari, whose children were either on our laps, spewing out our windows or asleep at our feet. Gorgeous Rama and her loser of a husband Jags from Jaiselmer .. Rama who was everyone’s mother, and loved feeding everyone. And her Indian husband Jags who managed to have a dual Australian/Indian passport so spent months in both countries every year, who was on newstart allowance and strained himself to have as strong of an aussie accent as he could possibly muster .. whose every second word was ‘bloody’ .. who picked on Indian culture and everything else that wasn’t aussie. He was useless. The man who taught us Turkish in Avylik and who was desperate to have us understand that the English work ‘sick’ meant ‘dick’ in Turkish, so never tell people you felt sick .. he was so worried, so kind. The weird woman dressed all in white who I had an hour long conversation about religion with in Mt Abu. Xavir from Belgium who said “supple’ too many times in a sentence and who loved the new English word he learnt, “stuffy” .. said it was the cutest word he’d ever heard .. stuffy. The men in the tea shop in Cappadocia, who insisted on wiping the seats of our rained on motorbikes, who gave us free cay and who showed off his pigeon. Charlotte and Scott in Olympos – who were old and lame to the American teenagers, and who were only 30!!! The American father and daughter combo in Selcuk who were a bit too happy and zen for my likings!

Tyler and Molly ... the American dream couple, Ken and Barbie, from the deep south .. Molly tells us that "Tyler cant grow a moustache .. and Tyler got a rash in Cairo". “Boss”, the day staff member at Sultan Hostel in Sultanahmet, Istanbul. Gorgeous Rosie, the 60 odd year old Turkish born English woman who worked on yachts … who wore boat shorts, a white tshirt tucked in, with her long black hair up in a pony tail clipped up with a red rose, bright pink lipstick with long red nails and little lacey bobby socks with her boat shots .. really gaudy, really sexy and totally gorgeous… Rosie .. whose boyfriend was a diver and as he saw the boat we were on go past the dive boat, her mobile started ringing and she grinned from ear to ear knowing he’d seen the boat and was calling the second he saw it. Gobie from Bergama, the 80 year old pension owner who danced around all the time and was glowing when he introduced me to his grandchildren. The lesbian from Canberra who was big and bad and butch, but who was scared of the water and hated being cold.

The terrible 4 year old kid in Safranbolu who hated tourists and kicked me and told me I was a bastard and to piss off! The couple we met on the Butterfly Valley cruise from England who had just lost a baby, still born, but who were pregnant and were excited to be able to tell someone cause they weren’t telling people from home … he was so gorgeous, with ‘gracie’ written in the form of childrens building blocks tattooed onto his forearm .. his lost daughter. Artie – the tour leader in Oludeniz on the day trip to Dalyan .. who didn’t stop talking… PIONEER TRAVEL with AAARRRTTIIIEEEE.

The dirty little gropey man in Iraq whose wandering hand got slapped mid-photo shoot.

The gorgeous family from war-torn Mosul who came to the human-made cement waterfall for a day trip from the trauma.

Pappa Smooch, the dirty old Falafel owner who puckered up. The proud old Syrian man in the hotel in Aleppo, Syria who said that Syrians are not strong people, they are weak and they are poor, but if you are lost and looking for somewhere and you stop every 20 metres to ask for more directions, everyone will help you .. this is a fact. We are a kind people who love to help. The hundreds of Syrians who call out ‘welcome to syria’ either in Arabic or in English .. hundreds. The camp as all fuck gay guy in Syrian market .. absolutely hilarious... Aladin who promises a subscription of Meals on Wheels to any possible wives, and Majid whose longest relationship was for 6 hours.

The man in Aleppo markets who gave us toffee and rose petal sweets .. everyday . just because.

The Palestinian man from the behind the wall who pointed to his olive trees down in the valley and said that they are his olive trees, that he has not be able to touch for 6 years because he is not allowed to go outside of the wall.

The Palestinian woman serving in the carving shop in Bethlehem who just ... looked so sad.

The Palestinian woman who was taken off the bus in front of everyone, who was humiliated, embarrassed and ashamed ... just because they can.

The not-so-useful hotel manager in Jeruselem who literally only knew how to say 'sorry im not sure of that', when asked about busses, hotels, places to see, directions, ANYTHING.

The man in the Aleppo market who gave us toffee and rose petal sweets, just because.

The numerous waiters who have tried to understand and feed me! Those who have tried to understand how chicken can possibly be meat.

The endless security guards who have let me in places where I shouldnt be.

The endless men who have bruised egos, and sometimes bruised bodies, because they were inappropriate .... and told so.

The hundreds of women covered all in black except a one inch slit for their eyes, who I can tell were smiling at me from behind their veils .. through their eyes.

All the children who stared and whispered to their parents how you say 'hello' in English .. and then yelling out excitedly to me.

The people who have let me photograph them and were patient in directing and helping out useless tourists like me.

The people who walked me all the way to where I needed to go instead of pointing.

The people who understood with a look that I was NOT in the mood for shopping, buying, looking, browsing, visiting, having tea, having coffee, talking about my personal life or going with you to your carpet shop, tea shop, sheesha shop, jewellery shop, silk shop or bag shop. Thanks for stopping after only 43 attempts.

From the American military men and the right-wing Australians and the boozed up Aussies on Anzac day, to the wide eyed Arabic children and the amazing welcomes throughout, I am really greatful and honoured to have been a guest in your countries. I acknowledge that so many of the people I have met on my trip in the past 6 months will never travel outside of their country, some due to poverty, others due to military restrictions and segregation ... I acknowledge more thoroughly what a beautiful and peaceful religion Islam is, that it's principles are based on love and peace and equity. I recognise how lucky I am to be of able mind and body, born into priviledge and freedom .. that I can move about freely in this entire world. I realise how being a woman is my greatest 'disadvantage' but that this is minor comparitively to the women in this region who are mostly silent and invisible. Invisible because they are in the home, or because they are expected to work the fields whilst the men socialise in the community.. invisible because they are behind dark heavy veils which cover all of their physical identity, invisible because they are not deemed able to work in the public sphere in any capacity. Invisible because they cannot be trusted to be faithful, to not be weak and to not be impressioned by the world. A world which values men over women in every aspect, that is based on culture and tradition, rather than religion. I recognise that I am lucky to be a born a woman in the west, but that being a woman in the world makes you vulnerable and challenged beyond thought ... about your place in the world, society and community.

As I am writing this blog on the last night before I fly home, I realise how many more people will pop into my head over the coming months and years, who have made this an unforgettable journey. I have learnt a lot and been greatly challenged ... my eyes, which I thought were opened, were not. The fire in my belly is roaring for social justice - for what is right and what is so very wrong.

I cant say Ill miss everything from the middle east, there is a lot that is very hard to understand and live with, but I have loved it all and have learnt a lot.

Shukran Middle East ... Thank you Middle East.

Salam Alaikum - Peace be with you.

(Pics - sunset over the Nile River on my last night, oh and a watermelon buggy mid-traffic, cute).