Day 8: We arrive in Syria

I don't think that I had ever heard of Aleppo before the head of the ICARDA International School  put a note in my pigeon hole at the ECIS job fair in 1995.  We had been living in Cyprus for 5 years and we all had island fever, which is like cabin fever but doesn't involve being snowed in!   It was time to move on.  I was offered a job in Zambia and one in Aleppo, and at the time, Aleppo seemed the safer bet.

Larnaca to Damascus is a half our flight.  After the ride up to Aleppo from Damascus, I might have wished that we had also taken the half hour flight from Damascus up but for some reason we didn't. In retrospect, we would have missed out on a rather uncomfortable adventure if we had.

We left Cyprus in the early evening and flew into Damascus with no idea what to expect.  We didn't have entry visas but were assured by the school that someone would meet us and sort everything out. When the man in front of us was taken from the queue and sent back to Cyprus for not having one, we did start to get worried.  I hoped that being a family of four might make us seem less threatening or suspicious.  We shuffled nervously toward the front.  I think that it was about then that one of us, or perhaps one of the airport guards, noticed that someone was waving at us from the other side of the room.  The guard motioned for me to go over and it was then that I met Mr. Jabri, our future banker, travel agent and sponsor in Syria.  He introduced himself briefly, and handed me the paperwork. What a relief!

We passed through immigration after answering the questions which soon became a standing joke with us and other Europeans we worked with:  mother's name? father's name?  I never knew why their names were so important.  My father was dead but it was easier to give his name than try to explain that, when I didn't speak Arabic and the immigration officer didn't speak English.

We came out of customs hot and bewildered into the warm embrace of Alem and Asma from the school.  And so it began!