Should I stay or should I go (to Syria)

My past few days have been quite busy.

At work, I have wiped out my "to do" list down to the most unimportant item, taken my favourite colleagues for extended coffee breaks and left the secretary with detailed instructions of unlocking the drawers in my absence. I have double checked the "emergency contact" in my employee file and the exact coverage terms of my insurance. I have repaid whatever I ever owed to anyone and sent a reconciliatory email to that guy who once clipped his bicycle to mine in the shed downstairs. It is not a crime, after all, to lock one's vehicle to other people's without permission, is it? He couldn't have done it on purpose. Right? The bastard.

At home, I have cleaned the entire flat, washed my bicycle and packed away winter clothes. I have emailed the friends I lost touch with long ago and called my parents. I have finished editing my latest travel pictures (the process that NEVER really ends) and started compiling an album of the best ones from 2011. I have organised my bills and arranged direct debit for my electricity and gas payments – something I had procrastinated on for absolutely ages.

Finally, as a reward for this unprecedented effort, I bought myself an ultimate treat – white chocolate mocha with soya milk from Starbucks. I love it, folks. Nothing makes anjči happy like a good cuppa of steaming white mocha. Extra hot, please.

In short, I have been acting like I am leaving and not coming back for a while. Which is most strange given that I am not actually moving anywhere. I am merely going on holiday for 11 days.

Except, of course, that I am going to Syria.

April is the cruellest month

April has proved to be the most unpredictable month in my life. Take 2009 when I was planning to spend Orthodox Easter on the Greek island of Chios with my then boyfriend. Things didn't go quite as planned: I got a job in London and swiftly left Greece and Easter travel plans (as well as the boyfriend) behind.

A few of you will still remember the April story of 2010. I was due to fly to Hong Kong for a short break when Eyjafjallajökull, Iceland's world-famous volcano, erupted angrily, casting clouds of rage over Europe and North Atlantic. My flight to Hong Kong was cancelled hours before departure.

The two occasions – which then seemed tearfully unfortunate at best – have taught me a couple of lessons. Firstly, to stay philosophical about things I couldn't do much about. I most certainly couldn't tell the volcano to hold off erupting for another week – or to love the country I clearly wasn't made to live in.

Secondly, I learned to see the positive in the grimmest of developments – even when such were not exactly obvious. Leaving Greece helped me to avoid the economic crisis which broke out in the country shortly after – and to start a new job in London which I am still madly passionate about. On the same note, not going to Hong Kong meant catching Oliver Dragojević perform live at London's Royal Albert Hall instead – as well as booking a fantastic replacement holiday in Greece a few months later. Add to that the once-in-a-lifetime experience of watching a live eruption of the named volcano in Iceland. It was all perfect in the end.

Indeed, missing out on something always translated into gaining something else elsewhere.

Revolution? Didn't we have one last week?

Come April 2011, and I was subconsciously expecting another travel drama. That I would have to scrap travel plans at short notice for reasons like, say, a war in Libya, an earthquake in New Zealand or tsunami-evoked nuclear crisis in Japan. I was even disappointed that nothing of the sort was seemingly forthcoming in my destination of choice. Out comes Syria.

All that changed when Syria, too, headed for some serious upheaval. Antigovernment protests reached Syria later than other Arab nations. They have also taken a much more gradual pace; first localised to the town of Dara'a in the south of the country and eventually spreading to the central city of Homs, several coastal areas and peripheral neighbourhoods of Damascus. Unlike in the other countries taken over by revolutionary movements, however, the Syrian protests have not really broken out on a large scale. Yet.

As the demonstrations escalated, I wondered if I should stick to the original travel plan. On one hand, Syria firmly sat in my Top 5 dream destinations for quite a while. My tickets were booked as early as 11 (that's eleven) months ago and my itinerary crystallised shortly after. On the other hand, I was actually planning on hanging around for a few more years, not sacrifice my life to democracy in an obscure Arab nation in the middle of the desert. To go or not to go?

The UK Foreign & Commonwealth Office didn't make my life easier. For years, I have relied on their travel advice for the countries where I was planning to travel. This was more out of habit than real need, however, as I never happened to visit a place driven by regime-opposing movements before.

The Foreign Office's advice for Syria has evolved unrecognisably since last month. From merely recommending not to travel to the town of Dara'a, it changed to avoiding non-essential travel to the whole of Syria – and, eventually, to suggesting all Britons to leave the country by commercial means.

It didn't, however, say anything about all Britons HAVING TO flee by any means available. Which gave me some comfort.

Should I stay or should I go now

Most of my friends have been telling me to scrap the Syria trip, and I can see where they are coming from. I fully agree that it is not the safest time to visit Syria. It will be a shame if I do not have a chance to discover some of the country's most famous sites because of ongoing unrest. It will be an even greater shame if, God forbid, the violence escalates out of proportion, affecting foreigners in Syria and leaving them – and their families – regretting their visits for the rest of their lives. It will be a great shame indeed.

But it will likewise be a shame to stay in London for no good reason. To waste two consecutive 4-day weekends on the city where I have lived for five years and where the upcoming Royal Wedding is promising to make enough logistical mess for everyone never to forget. For everyone who chooses to stay here, that is – those of my local friends who haven't left the country yet are planning to do so shortly or are too heavily pregnant to fly anywhere at this stage.

Even more so, it would be a shame to cancel my trip judging purely from TV footage of localised outbreaks of violence. Yes, some areas in Syria are affected. Yes, some curfews are in place. Yes, there are shootings and killings. And yes, some people have gone missing since the mess began. There are only limited concerns in places where I am personally planning to go, however. My contacts from the region are absolutely cool about Damascus, Aleppo and Palmyra. I am not planning to participate in protests or break a curfew if such is imposed wherever I am staying. I cannot promise that I will keep my camera away if I see a particularly vivid demonstration in front of me. The temptation may just be too strong. But I can definitely promise that I will try.

And, should things get really out of hand, I can always direct my steps to Lebanon just a stone's throw away. Unless, of course, it will be too late. But that I will worry about later.

Happy Easter, everyone! Let's hope something good comes out of all this.

Lost in Venice

Venice has numerous look-alike cities in Europe. Take “Venice of the North”, a title worn by the likes of Stockholm, Amsterdam, St. Petersburg and any Northern European city boasting a decent number of canals. Or think Croatia's Adriatic region, where the Venetians ruled for almost 300 years and left behind numerous cultural artefacts. Not forgetting, of course, Greece – the influence of Venice in places like Crete, the Peloponnesus, the Dodecanese and the Ionian islands has survived for centuries until present day.

The Venetians were enviably successful in growing the perimeter of their once thriving republic and spread cultural and architectural influence to numerous places all over Europe.

Plentiful quasi-Venetian exposure in my past trips explains why, until recently, I had imagined I knew Venice before actually travelling there. “I have seen it all before,” was my usual excuse to postpone a visit to Venice proper for another month. And another – until it almost became a given that Venice was never going to appear on my visited destinations' list.

The revelation

It was a strike of shamelessly random events in the end – a discount offer with Ryanair and a relatively travel-free April – that led me to reconsider. With stubbornly low expectations and in utter indifference, I embarked on a flight to Venice. You might remember that I had already "seen it all before" in Stockholm, Trogir and Chania. Venice was merely filling in a gap on my European destinations map. It could not possibly impress a seasoned European traveller like anjči.

One can easily guess that somebody was bracing for a major disappointment. Of course Venice did not turn out to be just another Bruges, Amsterdam or Gdansk. Neither was it a larger version of Venetian-inspired towns in Dalmatia and Istria – which indeed faded in comparison with a metropolis so magnificent.

Much more than a collection of canals and shaped balconies, Venice reminded me of several European cities at once – and not only its classic lookalikes. The narrow, confusingly similar side streets could well be taken out of Malta's Valletta; the arcades were reminiscent of Bologna not far away; and the layered domes of Basilica di San Marco emulated Byzantine heritage fit for Istanbul itself.

Despite having so much in common with its European counterparts, however, Venice was unquestionably unique – on our continent as well as others.

Any road will take you there

An overseas visitor to century-old European cities will invariably complain about few of those coming across as planned. They weren't exactly; originally little more than a handful of dwellings connected by narrow lanes, such sites gradually grew into what we know as present day urban centres – or, in other words, a complete mess. A mess where a street map often proves as useless as it is frustratingly impossible to follow. Therefore it is the getting lost part that most visitors to Venice see as the best way of discovering the city.

And Venice is a perfect city to get lost in. A maze of small bridges – one cuter than the other – over equally matching canals never seems to tire the eye, and the tiny yards at the end of unexpected culs-de-sac entertain rather than frustrate. So put that map away for once; check where the main flow of visitors is heading and take a sharp left. Then right, then another left, across the bridge, into a narrow passage and right again on the other side. That is when you will come across the authentic little cafe full of locals frequenting the establishment since times immemorial – or a tiny postcard-shot courtyard with a diligent housewife hanging up her fresh round of laundry. The decidedly non-touristy sights no commercial travel guide will dream of advertising – yet the ones that really define a city.


In spring it is the dawn

Europe's popular cities never quite seem to be free of crowds, do they? The good news is that tourist activity rarely begins before 9am. Which means that, unless you are a serious night owl or hanging around a business district of one of Europe's financial centres, most cities are all yours in the wee hours of the morning.

Nothing beats a view along Venice's silent canals – disturbed by little else than a passing gondola – in clear spring dawn. Local residents walking dogs may be your only company as you slowly tread over countless bridges; the only coffee shops open will have inside a handful of Venetians drinking cappuccinos to a serving of local news. Even the undisputed heart of the city – the Square of San Marco – will seem entirely different to the place where a street orchestra was playing celebrated classical tunes to ever-changing audience just a few hours ago.

It is the crowd-free Venice that most visitors seem to miss – perhaps for a reason no other than not knowing exactly what they are missing.


Islands calling

If daytime crowds in Venice seem a little too overwhelming, do not despair – just a short ride away on a vaporetto (waterbus) lie the islands of Murano and Burano. Looking like miniature versions of Venice, they receive substantially fewer visitors and are popular weekend getaways even with the small Italian population still choosing to reside permanently in Venice.

You may have heard of Murano thanks to the island's long-lived tradition of glass blowing. Originally taking place in central Venice, the craft was transferred to Murano in the 13th century on fire fears. It consequently became treasonous for a craftsman to leave the island to make sure the skill perfected by generations would remain unshared.

And if Murano still feels a little too close to the mainland – assuming one could call Venice mainland, of course – then hop back on the vaporetto towards Burano further in the lagoon. What coloured glass is to Murano, lace-making is to its smaller twin. Burano is firmly regarded as one of Europe's focal lace-making centres with tradition dating back as far as the 16th century. Every corner of the island is full of shops offering this pretty, if perfectly impractical, merchandise.

There is a risk that one may forget all about lace soon after disembarking though: the brightly painted houses lining Burano's streets look as appropriate on a small piece of land next to Venice as they would have in a fairytale illustration. Cheerful colour combinations may seem accidental, but behold – a legend goes that local fishermen originally chose bright, varied paint to make their dwellings visible from the sea on a foggy day. Even today, to ensure a harmonic continuation of the tradition, the residents get their choice of paint approved by local authorities.


When in Venice

Not been to Venice because you have "seen it all elsewhere"? Think again. Come and lose yourself in the city's countless narrow streets, amid identically looking facades suddenly giving way to a silencing sunrise view over the water. Lose yourself – and you never know what you might find.

(View full Flickr photo set for Venice)

'Tis spring

It's finally April.

A new month. A new title at work. New projects. New responsibilities. New insights. Exciting new travels. A new horizon underneath the blazing sky. A new SPRING.

The season I never get quite enough of. Have a good one!



All photos are author's own. In no particular order: London (UK), Sofia and Plovdiv (Bulgaria), Aix-en-Provence (France), St. Petersburg (Russia), Andros (Greece) and Horten (Norway).