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I travel from Hama to Krak des Chevaliers with an American working in Lebanon and Abu Farouz who drives us in a yellow Mercedes. This castle is supposed to be the epitome of castles and was Lawrence of Arania’s favourite. We pass through increasingly hilly country. Rich red-soil fields line the road, wrested from rocky terrain, out of which grows the assassin castle, Musayef, and the town that surrounds it. Out of a high patch of black-specked white rock spouts a multitude of TV aerials. So many castles are overlaid on Musayef I only have a faint memory of it.
After Musayef, the hillsides are terraced and we see the cross rather than the crescent. Olive and apple trees dot the hillside. On a narrow windy road through town we nearly bang into an old woman leading a cow out of the house. We approach Krak des Chevaliers, houses crawling up the hill towards it. Abu Farouz parks the Mercedes at the foot of a towering turret, and I have two hours to stretch the imagination into the past: soaring ceilings; arches leading into stables, men’s quarters, kitchens. Round turrets and square turrets. Arrow slits. Ramparts that the brave-with-heights can still walk along. Stone stairs worn away by centuries of feet, sometimes grown over with moss or grass. Spectacular views, down terracing into a valley, and then more valleys. I sit on a top step and eat a quarter of a grapefruit. Sitting again in the Knight’s Hall, I draw the attention of a would-be guide who wants to show me things: snow-covered mountains through arrow slits; hollows in the ground connected somehow to the storage of oil; a huge oven; dark corridors where guards used to pace. The prayer hall is very beautiful – arched ceilings, decorated doorways, a stone pulpit. I wonder how on earth the Crusaders and their cohorts kept warm in such grandeur.
While the driver and my fellow-passenger eat, I perch on a low wall at the base of the castle and watch little girls play elastics. They tell me their names and the Arabic words for thongs, boots and sneakers. A man about my age with one leg joins me companionably and shows me the pictures on coins. (It only occurs to me now there might have been a sub-text!)
Other images from the day? A donkey under a tottering burden of sticks. A woman emerging from the trees carrying a load of firewood. A boy pushing a tractor around a corner in the middle of a hillside town. A truckload of carrots heading into Hama. A Christian cemetery. Bandy-legged old women with walking sticks. A motorbike with a cargo of seven rolled up carpets. These are all morning images. The journey back to Hama is along a nondescript highway.
You’ll have to be satisfied by words this week: for some incomprehensible reason I don’t have any photos except the blurry one I’ve used. photos, There are spectacular images in some of the links below.
Heyjude said:
As others have already said, we don’t need pictures when we have a storyteller like you.
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morselsandscraps said:
You make me think I should do a camera detox too!
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Heyjude said:
I have always loved your literary posts. You write so descriptively. Not that I am telling you to give up the camera altogether you understand 😀
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morselsandscraps said:
I’m tempted. J’s taking much better photos than me: my camera’s colour capacity seems to have faded.
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Lucid Gypsy said:
You create vivid imagery Meg, no photos needed!
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morselsandscraps said:
Just as well in this case!
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Sue said:
Very sad to see the destruction wrought on this place. I loved reading your account, and was amused by your naivety……😳
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morselsandscraps said:
My first solo travel at 56! And only one previous overseas trip.
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Sue said:
I just think wow!
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Tish Farrell said:
A fine travelogue, Meg. Didn’t need more pix. It reads like a movie 🙂
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Sue said:
I’m in agreement, Tish!
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morselsandscraps said:
Thank you. From you that’s praise indeed. I can’t believe I didn’t take more photos – although I may have been preoccupied fending off kisses in an arrow-slit alcove from a man young enough to be my grandson! I think I told him to find someone younger.
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restlessjo said:
Wow! What a situation! Traces of the Past has nothing on this 🙂 🙂
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restlessjo said:
You’d do well in a world without cameras. You still can weave a spell. Off to look at the links- I hope they’re not sad and war torn. Sunny morning hugs when we’re off to visit friends at their caravan and hopefully some lakeside walking. 🙂 🙂
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morselsandscraps said:
Lakeside walking sounds very pleasant: no doubt I’ll be able to join you vicariously at some point! Hugs as I fish-oil the umbrella stand.
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restlessjo said:
🙂 🙂
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