story continued from post May 8

We travelled north to Fawaz's hometown of Skelbieh. It was a very uncomfortable trip. There were nine people squashed into an old yellow mercedes taxi that was built for five passengers. Fawaz's relatives who arrived in the taxi were so keen to greet us at the airport that they didn't consider the maths, that we were a family of four plus their five bodies crammed into one taxi made nine. It was a nightmare of a trip. Jetlag combined with the odour of cigarettes and the noise of laughter and jovial conversation was enough to break the most patient of individuals.
It was late into the evening, winter and very cold. I had two extremely tired and hungry young children sitting on my lap. Its amazing how the romance and excitement of the journey faded as we headed north. All I wanted was a warm bed, any bed would of been appreciated.
Beds, was another topic that needed much discussion between Fawaz and myself. Fawaz's mother and father owned two rooms. Technically, Fawaz owned them as he paid for the building of the two cement rooms on a block of land that he purchased on the fringe of the town. Anyway, that's another chapter further in this story.
His family slept in one room and the other room was used for greeting visitors. We slept on mattresses in the visitors room.
Two double hand made cotton mattresses were placed together and Fawaz, myself, Yasmin and Azzam slept side by side. Our doonas were also made of cotton, harvested from their farm. They were very comfortable to sleep under.
It is the custom of Arabic people to cordially welcome their visitors. It shows a sign of respect to have a room set aside for their arrival. Delicious food, warm drinks and especially arabic coffee were offered to the visitors and truly given with a gracious heart. I loved and still love visiting Arabic friends because I always feel so welcome in their homes.
I remember an occassion when an elderly man knocked on the door of my childrens' grandparents. We had just finished breakfast and had cleared the tray. Breakfast, lunch and dinner was always eaten together seated on the floor around a large shiny stainless steel tray. On the tray was placed the foods that we were to consume and a glass of water. A typical breakfast would include a bowl of olives, both green and black, eggs fried and placed on a large plate and a bowl of fresh yogurt that had been purchased, as well as the flat Arabic bread, each morning. Zartar was a favourite food which was made from a combination of dried sesame seeds, thyme and mountain herbs. It was brown in appearance and eaten with bread dipped in olive oil. Moorish and temptingly delicious was an adequate description, especially with a side dish of diced tomatoes and sliced cucumbers. My favourite was my mother-in-law's homemade chencleesh. To some foreigners it may have smelled and tasted of dirty socks but I fell in love with the taste and it was always a staple in our diets. It was made from curdled yoghurt and salt, then rolled into a cricket sized ball, dipped in thyme and various herbs and left to dry in the sun for fifteen days, then placed in a jar until it aged and became soft.

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