From Likir Gompa, we passed through the Umla Valley on our way to Phyang, and further over Yasermo La into the Shyok Valley which we followed upstream from Hundar, Diskit and Khalsar, along the Siachen Glacier, to Digar. From there, a surprisingly tough climb over Digar La brought us back to Sabu and Leh and (later) a hot and humid Delhi.

2005/06/13 Those who have read my log entries of our grand Syrian tour in the spring of last year will remember how wonderful our experiences had been in the Syrian-Iraqi bordertown of Abu Kamal, on the banks of the Euphrates River - where we huddled around through the souq, being stared at by thousands of Bedu traders and Bedu schoolchildren who couldn't believe their eyes that we actually had come to visit their hometown. Shortly after my return home in April 2004, we were told that US forces had brutally attacked the very same area for the first time, and now another major intervention by US forces has scarred the region once again. US troops pounded Iraqi insurgents at the border post of al-Karabilah, killing around 40 Iraqi in a massive ground and air assault aimed at retaking control of the restive region between al-Karabilah (in Iraq) and Abu Kamal (in Syria). The strikes came Saturday, after at least 43 people were killed in attacks in Iraq over the past 24 hours as a spate of bomb attacks shattered a relative calm in Baghdad since US and Iraqi forces launched a sweep for insurgents three weeks ago.

American forces in May conducted a week-long sweep in and around the Euphrates River cities of al- Karabilah, ar-Ramana and al-Ubaydi in an effort to root out militants reportedly loyal to al-Qaida's frontman in Iraq Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. More than 125 insurgents are said to have been killed during the operation which involved some 1,000 troops and was the largest anti-insurgency push since the November assault on Fallujah.

To be short, the film is altogether nothing but a poor spectacle, and the fact that the Sikh community has chosen to feel hurt by it is just another display of how incredibly sensitive communities can get towards each other in a country where communal thinking has remained one of the cornerstones of public speech for at least half a century. As for myself, now again living in Belgium, where the same kind of political discourse is now filling the papers on an almost daily basis, all I can do is hold my heart and breath.

2005/05/04 Zanzibar , although today being an integral part of the Republic of Tanzania and as such being marketed as a tropical paradise offering its unique blend of Arabic, Indian and African cultural mishmash to a fast growing public of sunlovers and beach-goers, remains closely connected to its Omani history. And that the faraway island hasn't remained unafflicted by the overall renaissance of Islamic sensitivities, is clearly illustrated by an article in today's Indian Express, reporting that Islamist groups in Zanzibar are worried by what they see as increasingly inappropriate behaviour by Western tourists. It is generally felt, the author implies, that the overall atmosphere as witnessed today both in Stone Town and in the coastal areas beyond offends the Indian Ocean islands' conservative Muslim culture. Tourists should not indulge in sex acts or kiss openly, this is not something that people can accept, Farid Hadi, chairman of the Zanzibar Imams' Association (Jumaza), said on Wednesday: Every society has norms to be respected. We want a law that stipulates that while tourists are accepted, there are standards that forbid wearing very short dresses in public.

In the meantime, I have left Zanzibar's tropical rains and heat behind me, and I am witnessing far worse offending behaviour towards muslims in general in my cold and wet hometown in Belgium. Wherever one turns to, I continue to discover how long the road of mutual understanding ahead of us really is.

Being back in Belgium, I am again fully engaged in teaching, lecturing and training projects all over the country.

For those participating in this summer's Nubra trek in Ladakh (July 22 - August 14), it will be interesting to know that I will be meeting the entire group in Diest on June 25 at 10:30 hrs. I am very much looking forward to getting acquainted with all of you. Meanwhile, more information about this trek, which is new to the Anders Reizen program, can be found on http://www.andersreizen.be/reisbeschrijving.php?id=05ar130.

Recent news from India contains some shocking figures: A murder almost every two hours, a riot every hour, and eight kidnappings and three rapes a day... The crime scenario is truly alarming even by Bihar standards in 2004.

In India's most poverty-stricken state, between January and December 2004 there were 3851 registered cases of cold-blooded murder, 1297 armed robberies with manslaughter, 9199 riots, 2977 kidnappings including 411 kidnappings for ransom, 1063 rapes, 2162 roadside lootings and 57 bank robberies, ... says an official report leaked to India Express.

2005/04/06 That Damascus is a booming town we knew already, but still it is amazing to notice how rapidly the Ummayad capital is changing. But even then, old habits are quickly being picked up again: one hops into a shared taxi at Afif in front of the sefara faransiya, drives through the buzzing and chaotic traffic down Baghdad Street, reaches Bab Touma with the sounds of Fairuz and Oum Khoulthoum in your head, and strolls down into Via Recta ... on the way to Samer Kozza's Art Gallery, or further down, into the old Jehuda Quarter, visiting Mustapha Ali at his art studio. 

Another thrill is the adventure of hunting for a house in the old city. Behind the shabby and greyish walls along the tiny alleys and cul-de-sacs the most spectacular Damascene palaces are to be discovered, if only one is willing to have an eye for them.

Top all this with an arguila at Noufarah Cafe, enjoying the hesitating springtime sunshine, ... and you will understand why it is that Damascus is firmly locked into our hearts and minds.

Further travels are now leading the way back to Masqat in Oman, and hence to Abu Dhabi, London, and finally Brussels.

2005/04/02 The joy and the pleasure to be back in Damascus ...! Having spent a whole winter in Masqat, having travelled up and down through the south-easternmost part of the Arabian peninsula, having toured through Oman and the Emirates, having discovered the charms of East-Africa and the wonders of Zanzibar and its Stone Town, having spent a X-mas in Dubai and an Easter in Dar-as-Salaam, ... to sit, at last, again, once more, under the glorious roof beams of the Umayyad Mosque and to listen to the beatifying chants of the Friday Prayers among its thousands of attendants gives me greater happiness than I can lay down into words.

Damascus is really homecoming. We wander again through the alleys and streets that we know so well, revisit friends, and smell the perfumes of our sweetest memories. With Arabic poetry and lute-song in one's heart, what more is there to keep one's soul attached?

The flight from Masqat to the isle of Zanzibar takes five hours, during which one first crosses the endless gravel desert between Masqat and Salalah, then hops over to the Horn of Africa, and hence continues down along the African coast. The views are wonderful all along: one would make the journey for the mere sake of making it.

Stone Town, Zanzibar's capital (and in fact only) city, is rightly considered to be the most charming, alluring and architecturally and culturally interesting African city south of the Sahara. One wanders around aimlessly through the miles and miles of tiny alleys of its souq, completely and fully immersed in an one-thousand-and-one Arabian nights atmosphere, where merchants of mixed African-Arabian-Indian descent present their goods and wares to an amazingly cross-cultural public. At the Stone Town Cultural Centre, a beautifully restaured 19th century Arab mansion, courtesy of the Aga Khan Cultural Trust, we enrolled in an oud (Arabian lute) class at the Dhow Countries Musical Academy - and we spent a good many hours gazing away over the Indian Ocean from the terrace of Mercury's Bar, on the beach near the harbour.

Having criss-crossed the island of spices and tropical forests on bicycles and on a scooter, we finally spent the Easter days in Dar-es-Salaam on the Tanzanian mainland, witnessing the Friday prayers at the Gujarati Aga Khan Ismaili mosque on one moment, and a craftfully staged passion play at the Anglican Cathedral on another.

Today, I am back in Masqat (Oman), taking a relief from the devastating heat and the humidity of Zanzibar's season of the long rains, paying a visit to the nicely AC-ed Nawras headquarters at al-Azaibah, following-up on a few pending projects, and lecturing at the School for International Training (Masqat) of the University of Vermont.

2005/03/07 Masqat, Sultanate of Oman. For anyone dreaming of the colours and smells of the Indian subcontinent but being locked in the oncoming heat of the Gulf of Oman, Ali's little coffeeshop on the main square of the al-Azaibah souq is an absolute must. What greater joy is there, than to plant yourself in a shabby plastic chair on the verandah with a cup of cay in your hand, leaning against the window and listening to the joyous chitchat on the Bangla Deshi TVchannel, surrounded by a few tens of sturdy-looking Bangalis smoking bidis and sniffing their dust-covered noses in the moist and heavy air? What greater pleasure than to watch the evening light fade under the black clouds of a tropical thunderstorm pasting itself against the flanks of the Hajar Mountains?

As the heat over Masqat is becoming more and more intense, the fairly large al-Azaibah Bangali community seems to cherish its morning and evening gatherings on the square even more. Although the American and European expat community in Masqat is omnipresent, this is typically a neighbourhood where not one is to be seen. Nor does one see Omanis here - and Ali has come to recognize me very well indeed, smiling and greeting me with warm namaskars as I approach the porch in front of his cafe. The hang-out is rather close to our company headquarters, but I seem to be the only one of the company's many staff and contractors being fond of its squalid and clumsy charm. "Sulaiman bin 'Amir Nassir al-Zaidi", it says on the pane above the door - but I doubt that anybody actually ever uses this name. To me and my Bangali friends, all labourers in the few of Masqat's heavy plants, or truckers, or cleaning personnel, or sweepers, this is simply "Ali's".

And however much I can appreciate the fact that Masqat is one of the cleanest places I have ever visited in the world - I couldn't do without Ali's rubbish heap in front of the door, its broken window, its creaky seats, its smell of dal and sabji, and its overall clumsiness. I wouldn't miss the sincere friendship shared by all these Bangali menfolk deprived of their families and wives and children, being landlocked in a far-away and hostile country, often without even possessing the necessary paperwork or passport to return home if they would choose to do so. It wouldn't miss their sense of community, their wordless understanding of each other, and their overt appreciation of my choosing to spend some time in their company.

You drive out early on Thursday morning and follow the coastal road inbound into the Gulf of Oman. At first the road is busy, but once past Sohar and Shnas the coastal plain between the sea and the Hajar Mountains becomes narrow and the landscape lures you into the oncoming northern Musandam fjords. A tiring experience awaits you at the United Arab Emirates border checkpost, but once this is over and you drive into the Fujairah Emirate, this is soon forgotten. The capital Fujairah is a rather boring and provincial place nestling at the foot of the Hajar Mountains, overlooking the harbour where large container ships slowly move into the Gulf. The old Fujairah fort is dwarfed by the Etisalat Telecom Tower - but apart from this and a few more skyscrapers, the city dwindles in dust and silence.

From Fujairah, one travels slowly northbound into the hills. Pretty soon you touch the Madha watersprings - and you are back in Omani territory. From there you turn west, crossing the mountain chain to the sleepy oasis city of al-Dhaid. Now the rugged landscape turns into sandy dunes and desert, as you cross the Musandam Peninsula into the Emirate of Ajman. Just like Fujairah, the capital city of Ajman has nothing of special interest for the traveller. The port is famous for its dhow building yards, but when visited during the early afternoon siesta there is hardly anyone around.

From Ajman, one turns south into the Emirate of Sharjah, or more properly ash-Sharqah. Although the city of Sharjah is considered to be nothing more than a suburb of Dubai, it is an Emirate in itself - and only by strolling through its souqs one feels how different the laws, regulations and the overall atmosphere in this tiny Emirate are indeed. Sharjah has little of the Dubai metropolis hassle and bustle: its seems to be sleeping cosily in its heritage-oriented mind, providing much more of a one-thousand-and-one nights sensation than any other UAE city.

Later the same day, one finally heads towards the impressive skyline of Dubai - without any doubt the least Arab city in the Arabian peninsula, but surely one which the traveller will never forget.

Having done all this, you have travelled not more than 450 kilometers, but in doing so you have travelled through northern Oman and you have crisscrossed four out of the seven Emirates: Fujairah, Ajman, Sharjah and Dubai. ... And since we have travelled through Abu Dhabi, the largest Emirate, on previous occasions - this leaves only Ras al-Khaimah and Umm al-Quwain for us to be discovered.

2005/02/24 Having had an unusual spell of fresh weather, Oman is now slowly pacing towards the upcoming heat. Our work remains hectic and stressful, as we are working towards ever-shrinking deadlines and increasing pression from the company's shareholders. Free weekends become sparse, but all the more valuable as necessary moments to take some breath.

Oman is an outdoor enthusiast's paradise - but since most of the popular outdoor activities are related to four wheel driving and humvee wadi bashing, finding pals to join you on a trek is not all that easy. A few weeks ago, we were extremely fortunate to run into one of the founding members of the Environment Society of Oman (http://www.environment.org.om), and even more lucky when he invited us to join him and a group of his friends on a discovery trek through the Wadi Ta'ab, which freely translates as the Riverbed of Everlasting Fatigue. The hidden valley of the Ta'ab oasis is situated on the slopes of the Eastern Hajar Mountains overlooking the coastal plain of Finns and Tiwi - about two hours off-road driving from the capital. The idea was for us to follow the ridge and circle the Wadi all the way up to the Majlis al-Jinn (The Parliament of the Spirits) - which is one of the most extended cave systems in the Arabian peninsula. But as the nine of us followed the goat-trek from the mountain pass where we had left our 4WDs, we quickly strayed into the wadi, as if magically attracted by the luring shade of the date palms deep down. Instead of getting it to the cave, we now discovered one of the most attractive hidden valleys I have ever seen, with cool fresh water running through the aflaj irrigation canals, bulbuls (nightingales) singing in the waving treetops, and batbats (dragon-flies) dancing between the orange trees. When wandering deep down between the ruined rockhouses of an ancient human settlement, we were picked up by two friendly locals, villagers from Finns, who were on a job in the Ta'ab, guarding the oasis, tending the irrigation system, herding the goats, and generally doing nothing special in between. The two at once volunteered to guide us deeper into the wadi in search of its spring - which made us forget about the Majlis al-Jinn plans altogether. Later that day, tired but satisfied from the trek, we overlooked the impressively steep gorge of the Wadi al-Harim (the Riverbed of the Maidens), passed by a collapsed cave system known as The Sinkhole, and dreamed along as we drove back towards Masqat - to conclude a glorious weekend in the Yemeni restaurant near the al-Ghubra Roundabout.

2005/01/29 Still in Muscat, Oman. Work is busier than ever. The company is a beehive of activity, the overall stress is building up, we are on the job from early morning till late in the evening.

We are fortunate to have a spell of uncharacteristically cool weather: last night the temperature dropped to 14 degrees, which means we actually needed a sweather! In the mean time, we try to get away as much as we can during weekends. The weekend of Eid al-Adha (the celebration marking the end of the annual hajj or pilgrimage to Macca) meant one extra free day, which we made ample use of: We travelled to the outskirts of the great desert of the Rub al-Khali (The Empty Quarter), went in search of prehistoric burial sites near Bat, crossed the border into the Emirates at Jabal Hafeet (another site of great interest for those interested in prehistoric archaeology), and discovered the unexpectedlyly well-developed oasis town of al-Ain. It is truly amazing to see how cities like al-Ain have turned from nomad camps into modern urban centres almost overnight. When one sees pictures from not more than thirty years ago, one simply cannot believe to be standing in the same place now.

Another thrill was in store for us when we went on a small discovery tour of the Western Hajar Mountains and walked through the oasis settlements of Nakhl and Muslimat, where the shade of the datepalms provides the inhabitants with ample opportunity to grow vegetables and rice - completely unbothered by the desolate gravel desert only a few hundred metres away.