SYRIA
I was in Syria eight years ago. It was spring of 2011—the Arab Spring. At one point we were denied entrance to Homs because of disturbances after prayers on a Friday. We later learned that the boarder crossing at Dara closed about a week after we crossed into Jordan. But things were just beginning. The Arab Spring was not what had been hoped, and for Syrians the result has been unspeakable misery. Here are sketches and a story from a happier time. Lost I'm on a street called Medhat Basha . I've walked the three quarters of a mile from Baba ash-Sharqi to Bab Al-Jabiye two times. The exotic sights and smells of this historic thoroughfare no longer entice me. I can’t find the shop with the striped awning which signals the hotel turn. My stomach grumbles, my feet hurt, my palms sweat and I have to pee. Mild waves of anxiety roll over me. I had parted company with my son Mark about an hour ago after spending the day together checking out...
