Operation Desert Service

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How I find myself at a 1,500+ year old Christian monastery in the Middle of Nowhere Desert, Syria for 3 nights I’m not sure. I was planning on finally getting to Beirut after the football game, but somewhere between Howie’s portrayal of a word-of-mouth secluded mountain hideaway and Victor’s description of ‘not in the Lonely Planet’ desert adventure, I decided to push Lebanon back a couple more nights and head to the Damascus bus station with them instead.

Although our governments would like us to think Syria is a rather unstable and semi-evil country, apparently Syria is one of the only sanctuaries for Middle Eastern Christians fleeing persecution or heavy discrimination. The geographic landscape can be classified as something between Desert and Steppe. The demographic landscape can be classified as a blend of a very religious Italian/French/Arabic/English speaking Community comprising a Father, monks, and nuns, a couple semi-permanent volunteers, some religious pilgrims, and a few backpackers like ourselves just coming through to check it out. Mar Musa and the Community that drives it is deeply Christian, holding meditation, prayer, and masses in the mornings and evenings; it welcomes visitors and travelers regardless of religious background. The deal is that you can stay and eat at no expense (a donation) but you help out in the Community as needed, usually just tidying up, washing dishes, preparing meals, etc. There is no cell phone reception or internet here. And you can do some thinking. A lot, a lot of thinking.

Doesn’t sound like something Amy would normally be into, huh? Yeah not so much, but at the same time I can always try something I’m not normally into at least once if not just to see that I certainly am not into it. After a bus ride to some far removed town and a bit of extremely poor negotiation (by Victor) with the driver to take us further into the desert, we were staring up at a daunting mountain housing a well-camoflagued monastery. After nearly 3 weeks of no real physical exertion, I pretty much died climbing up the mountain in 2pm desert heat with my backpack. I wonder how 50 yr old members of the clergy do this. Upon arrival I realize that this is by far the most religious place I have ever spent considerable time in. Some people greet us and prepare some food for lunch and we sit down with a very deeply religious French man who describes his past 10 years of trying to find himself. I immediately wonder if we really fit in here. I don’t want to even tell the man what we are doing here because nothing is going to be deep enough for this guy. I almost feel like the three of us are tainting the walls and I should be walking around with a big scarlet letter on my forehead and both my cheeks. None of the three of us are even remotely religious. We skip worship the first night and duck in on the second with Victor and I sitting on either side of the Father leading the prayer. This time it is led partly in English and partly in Arabic. I can’t even navigate the Bible to the correct pages. When the (I think it’s called) Holy Communion comes around, when you eat the bread and drink the wine, I can see Victor almost bursting out into laughter as the Father turns to me to start the circle, and I don’t really know what to do.

So most people come to Mar Musa to relax and think. I admit while sometimes I do relax and do nothing, usually I just don’t unless you give me a beach, or in the latest case, a house in the south of France. I can’t even really say that my experience at the monastery has been particularly relaxing so far, as it takes a lot to stay on my best behavior (I have no self or volume control) and dress even more conservatively than I do in the rest of Syria. Seriously I came with almost nothing nun-appropriate so for the first time on this trip I think my few monastery-acceptable clothes are starting to smell a bit “earthy,” a bit more like Victor maybe. I can’t even wear mild v-necks. To hike in the desert I am forced to use my highly unflattering black pajama pants - the skirts blow up and my jeans are too tight; don't even mention my Puma hot pant shorts. Victor will never let me live these pants down in the pictures. The men and women get separated into different sides of the mountain promptly after dinner (including married couples). We want to get together to watch sunrise at 5am and can't even do that because they don't unlock the gates that early. In addition, I have seen what 2 years of employing a maid and never cooking has done for the few domestic abilities I may have even slightly possessed before I moved to Hong Kong. It’s not pretty and I am certainly no advertisement for an investment banking wife. I would like to note for the record that both Victor and I were extremely hard working. Victor tried so hard that he offered to clean the vacuum and came out of it looking like a grey elf. Victor gets dragged into washing dishes. On the other hand, I’m not sure how Howie does it, but he gets away with the least amount of work. When we are cleaning up the deck room, somehow it turns into an exercise with Howie pointing at areas of concern while Victor and I sweep.

This whole experience sounds like pure complaint but really it has been eye-opening and interesting to see how communities like these function. I can’t say I am converted, but it also reminds me how basically people can live, without frills or luxuries. It even feels a bit like some sort of home for me as the concept of chores has finally been reintroduced, and to be honest quite a few different kinds of people have passed through during our three days. Surprisingly or maybe not, I have overstayed my initial plan of 2 nights and am going on 3. The landscape and hiking is stunning and I am really enjoying being this far removed from everything else. The past two days we’ve ventured out of the monastery before sunset to hike around all the far-off mountains we see. I have never been somewhere like this before, never have I looked all around and only seen empty, barren land, sitting in the blasting wind with 2 new fun buddies and mangy rabid dogs in the wake. You can even see the fringes where the mountains meet the flat land where sandstorms have stirred up in the late afternoon winds. And it is absolutely freezing in the wind at the tops of the mountains. My eyes water and I can barely keep them open. My hair is being whipped back into my face as some form of cruel and unusual punishment. Victor also decides to free-ball in track pants with breathing mesh on the sides, I won’t even go into what happens there.

Past these general descriptions of day-to-day life here and my initial reactions to it though, my time spent here has me thinking a little harder about an issue that has constantly nagged at my psyche for the past two years. Meeting other travelers often sheds a different light on what you may be doing with your life; people all come from different moral and monetary backgrounds, people have different life priorities and interests, people have been bred to think a different way. People care about different things in life, and to even begin a conversation on the root of that would require serious digression. Each new person you meet on the road will share his own story, and eventually they will hear yours as well. While I knew how weary and restless I was getting in my old job and left the investment banking world with no regrets, I can’t say that I regret how I spent the last two years of my life. I worked hard in school, I landed a job in a highly competitive industry, and I made some very good money. I ate well, drank well, went on amazing vacations, and basically had a blast for 2 years. I met amazing people who shared with me all their best advice and took me under their wing, invited me to their parties and their summer houses, and showed me exactly why it pays to make bank. And yes, they are all financially well off. Yes, I did live in the young expat bubble that is Hong Kong which I doubt can really be reproduced anywhere else. Yes, I am a product of the great American dream of opportunism and ambition.

I am not ashamed to admit any of this, I mean I worked hard in a meritocracy and achieved what I did myself. And hell, if I make the money I can assure you I plan on spending it. People who say that money doesn’t make a difference in life drive me insane. That is a blatant lie, and everybody knows it. For people with more ambition and more drive to do in life, money is going to make it possible to do all and more, in a shorter span of time, and probably at a higher caliber. Sure, some people go through life with the mindset that making money is their top priority. They love to spend and splurge and may measure their self-worth by their paycheck. But there are plenty of people such as myself that also were just lucky enough to have the ability and opportunity to enter into the profession and live the good life. Was finance my one and only passion coming out of college? No. But was I not trained, and did I not find it interesting enough to be able to make a living of it, a living that allowed me to go places and experience a life that people of 21 years rarely do? And to be honest I had a great time, but to each his own, and after 2 years I realized there are other interests for which I need time to pursue. I don’t judge people who stay in it, and I don’t admire people who shun the greed in our industry either because I can see both sides. Sometimes I do step back and think though that I don’t need to be doing this at my age, and there are simpler joys in life to have and other things to aspire to. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy what I was able to enjoy, and I don’t see why I or anybody else needs to hide it.

I guess the reason I am writing this is because I feel like I am often judged when I travel. When I meet other people outside of the bubble where I almost don’t want to disclose what I do for a living or how much I make. When I meet the people that are free-willed and barely scraping by, teachers or PhD students, I worry they either judge me for seeming to be so greedy or they judge me for not studying something more intellectual. In the Middle East, the caliber of minds that I have encountered so far traveling are on a different level - a lot of PhD'ers and journalists. I don’t even think I have met anybody so far this trip that hasn’t been to university. This isn’t Thailand, London, or Italy where you have a huge mix of travelers, and in all honesty the number of drunk 20-yr old college tourists you meet easily exceeds the number of more educated and composed people you can actually hold an intelligible conversation with. This region sees travelers that are more politically or religiously charged, more educated, much more in tune with world affairs, and generally just more curious and thoughtful. This may seem natural as the Middle East isn’t really a holiday destination for the Average Joe. And neither is the cha-ching Maldives or the Antarctic which tend to be more luxurious destinations for your well-to-do banker. But the difference between Syria and the Maldives is that in the Maldives I am surrounded by people who want to relax and spa, and nobody judges me for what I do for a living. In Syria, I am surrounded by people who want to debate and criticize, and everybody seems to be out for 10 more years of education and seems to look down on me for rushing immediately to make money. Enter Socialist tendencies that criticize the each-man-for-his-own opportunism that we so cherish in America. I’m getting judged for having used a maid, when economically it made more sense, the dollars vs the hassle and the time I spent doing other things. And no, I don’t enjoy thinking about thinking. It’s as if I am inferior for having studied the more tangible math and sciences instead of the more wishy-washy polysci and philosophy.

I’m not really looking to make any conclusion of these recent interactions but it is definitely something new for me. The people at the monastery and the people that come to stay, well I realize that this place attracts a very different kind of mind. I do know that while I don’t agree with it, it is certainly interesting to see this perspective on “American” values, and to see how differently we are taught to think in America in general. I can’t say that conversations with these intellectuals have at all made me want to be more like them or regret being American, but it is always interesting to hear the other side. And I do have these conversations with people that I like and respect, I don’t reflect right now in a bitter manner per se but in just a more curious one. Mar Musa for this has been especially intense, and the Middle East continues to be a fascinating and educational place for me.

I apologize for the lack of funny in this one and promise not to write such a serious entry for awhile. I blame it on being submerged in a religious environment for 3 nights and being denied any meat or male company past 10pm.

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Photos

Howie
what a badass shot - i wonder who took this one, Howie?