Traffic.

It appears that most roads in Damascus have 3 3/8 lanes, although there are no lines on the road. And no stop lights. And no cross walks. Consequently, drivers use speed, guts and horns to navigate. And pedestrians tend to walk into the flow of traffic as though not realizing a huge bus is about to run them down. It would be fascinating if it wasn’t so scary. But nobody seems to notice the suicidal traffic patterns. Oh well.

Another good day of training. Jill did find out that her training has been cut by another day. Since her people come from all over the country, they didn’t want to go home, come back for one day, go home again and then come back. Who can blame them.

We finally get our missing piece of luggage. The agency where we are working has sent someone to pick it up. Nice to have people with pull around. In Arabic, it’s called wastah—big shoulders.

The rains have stopped and there is a beautiful blue sky. Not supposed to rain for the rest of the week, although it doesn’t seem to slow anybody down.

After several tries to find a Syrian restaurant that serves something other than French food, we were told by a young Danish couple staying at our hotel on a short vacation from their jobs in Ethiopia about a lovely Syrian restaurant that actually serves Syrian food. Yeah, your read right—Danes from Ethiopia visiting Damascus.