The Trip

May 21, 2009; 6 PM my flight left St. Louis for our nations captial, Washington DC. As I was in the plane I couldn’t help but think of all the things I was going to miss in the two months that I was going to be gone. My dad and brother, my car, my house, my masjid, my friends and so much more, but I was looking forward to seeing my family. As I reached Dulles airport at around 7:45 PM I realized that I only had an hour to reach my flight to London. I had to wait outside next to the plane in the rain for the people to bring me my pink carry on bag that contained my beloved yet massive laptop. I saw them throw my bag from the plane to the rolly basket thing with all the bags and thought I was gonna have a heart attack, but I finally got my bag and ran to my gate. As I was running past people I was making duaa that I wouldn’t miss my flight. Alhamdulliah I reached the plane with literally 2 minutes to spare. The flight to London wasn’t so bad, other than the fact that I got really bad motion sickness (like always) and threw up. A lot. Eww.

10:32 AM London time I was in England, woot woot. London was a good break. I was able to change, freshen up and actually look presentable but fatigue took over my body. I hadnt slept in over 24 hours; I was getting super cranky and super duper irritable. My flight was delayed an hour which wasn’t so bad and finally by 2:00 PM I was on my flight to Damascus. The plane was full of Arabs but mostly kids…so many kid. For seven hours I was forced to listen to children crying. When one of them would stop another one would start up again. I kinda felt sorry for the old man sitting next to me just cuz I kept bumping into him as I was trying to reach my number one venue, the bathroom. Somewhere between Europe and the Middle East I decided to watch a movie. There wasn’t much of a selection (thank you British Airways) so I started watching the best thing I can find: “Confessions of a Shopaholic.” Really…what a dumb movie, I couldnt even finish it…not only was I feeling crummy but there wasn’t even a decent movie to watch (wow I really need to chill on the complaining). At that moment I really missed Lord of the Rings and was pissed that we didn’t do our Lord of the Rings Night before I left (mmhmm Arwa and Hend).

Alhamdulilah I reached Damascus around 9:15 PM Syrian time. As I left the plane I was immediately hit with the smell of cigarettes and gasoline. Mmm the smell of polution, I liked! I couldn’t wait to see my family. As I walked into the airport I noticed some changes. The walls were painted yellow and green. Interesting choice for an airport I thought but at least they’re trying. I checked in and was directed to bag claim. I was waiting for my bags when the woman next to me pulled out a cigarette and started smoking in the airport. I turned to her, with a look of shock on my face but she didn’t flinch. So I went about my business and got my bags. As I was pushing the cart I heard someone screaming my name. It was my cousin Samer running to help me and the rest of my family waiting right behind him. Seeing their faces reminded me of how much I really did miss them. I realized that being away for so long really does harden your heart. I couldn’t wait to get home and hear what everyone had to say.

We all loaded up in the cars and began another journey to my tete’s house. The car ride was horrifying. I forgot how crazy the driving in Syria is. I was holding on to the handle bar so hard I think I lost circulation in my right hand. We all got to my tete’s house in one piece hamdillah and shawirma was waiting for us at the table. Yum, too bad I was so sick I couldn’t eat it. Haha. But being around my family was so nice. I felt like I was in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Syrian style of course.

As my cousins, aunts and uncles left my grandmother’s house one by one, my mom, baby brother and I along with my grandmother and now, only aunt were left alone. Finally I thought…some peace and quiet. But that wasn’t the case at all…They decided to unpack while I decided to make the kids their goody bags. At around 4:15 AM Syria time, I had just finished making all 25 goody bags, my mom, aunt and grandma finished unpaking our bags and my baby brother was passed out on the couch remote in hand and Ally McBeil on the tube (I really wanted to say that). It was around that time that I heard something outside. It was the Imam reciting Qu’ran on the speaker right before the fajr athan. I closed my eyes and listened like I was in a trance, it was so beautiful. A couple minutes later I heard at least six different masjids, all around my grandma’s house, calling for prayer. It was at that moment that I realized that I was really blessed that Allah gave me the opportunity to go to Syria again, to see my family again and to let me hear the athan on the speaker for all ears to hear, again.