I am in an internet shop in Damascus and there is a Czech woman behind me speaking on Skype. She is talking in that awful, bossy, obnoxious Czech way and just now I wish I'd never learned a word of that language because at this moment it makes me want to kill.

*

Ah! She's gone. Now they're playing a pretty interesting mash-up of "Milkshake" with an Arabic (I think) pop tune.

Today I visited the mausoleum of former Syrian president Hafez al-Assad. The leader is interred alongside his son and would-be successor Basil, who was tragically martyred by a brutal Mercedes steering wheel. It was just the security guard, me and two boxes.

It's true what they say, by the way: Pictures of the opthamologist, his dad, and occasionally Basil really are everywhere, upon everywhere, upon everywhere.

Fashion tip for the former: Lose the mustache.

Glad to finally get out of Aleppo. In recent years I've developed a pet peeve with regards to people casually clearing phlegm from their throat and then spitting it out. You know the sound.

In Aleppo, it was non-stop. Was the change in the weather making people sick? I haven't noticed this anywhere else in my travels. I'm convinced it's Aleppine in nature. I found it repulsive and had to flee the city.

I'm Latakia now, on the coast. The veils have given way to tight jeans.

Having a good time - not too keen on writing travelogue material because I find that stuff generally impertinent. But I do have some notes about traveling through Aleppo that I'd like to type up, just in case it helps Googling travelers.