This is a photo essay of my time at Ummayyid Mosque in Aleppo.

I got to the bus station to wait for the bus taking me to the border with Syria. I met a Korean doctor-in-training there preparing to make the same trip. She was in the same boat - hoping to get her visa at the border. The next morning, we arrived at the border. The process was a breeze and it took us all of 15 minutes to get the visa. That said, the border people for some reason flipped through all 131 pages of my passport before settling on stamping the page with the Cuban stamp. Birds of a feather flock together perhaps.

We were victims of a quick bait and switch at the border. Admittedly, we were shocked at the cheap cost of our nice big air-conditioned bus which had a total of three people. Once across the border, we were told to get off and wait for a small van that would take us to Aleppo. While having breakfast at Aleppo, we ran into an American who became our travel companion for the next couple of days in Syria.

The three of us made our way to the Ummayid mosque in Aleppo. What I like about the mosques here is that they create a common space that has such different meaning to its different constituents. The mosques in this area have a huge space in the center. To the adults at the mosque, the inner sanctum is meant for their dutiful prayers. To the kids, the open space is a playground. They kept coming up to us to have their photos taken. And after prayers, the space becomes a place for worshipping pilgrims to capture photographic evidence of their semi-touristic journey.

During my last semester in undergraduate, I was seized by the desire to explore more of the US. Using a free ticket I got off a company I had interviewed with, I made my way to Las Vegas to fulfill my long-held wish to see the Grand Canyon. It was a grand sight and I swore that one day, I would return to hike it. Unfortunately, as a poor NGO type, that wish is unlikely to happen anytime soon.

The thought stayed with me and so, I was glad when I stumbled upon Cappadocia in Turkey enroute to Syria. It had the moonscapes of the Grand Canyon, and a desert-like valley that I eagerly crawled all over. It also had the churches carved into rock walls very much like what I saw in Dunhuang in western China. The churches dated to the time of the Byzantine empire and many of the saints had their eyes gorged out by later generations of occupants. Like the Hagia Sophia, these hidden churches had domes in them.

I made my way through a valley that hid these churches and slowly winded my way around the valley as it sloped upwards until I reached a ridge overlooking the landscape. It was breathtaking. I stopped to take out my Ipod and danced to wonderful beats and the beautiful scenery.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

I took an overnight bus to Nevserif in Cappadocia, an area in Southern Turkey known for its moonscapes and Byzantine-era temples carved into rock walls. One heuristic I use in travelling that has always served me well is to distrust the first person who approaches you as you get off an overnight bus. In this case, it was two guys claiming to work for the bus company

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(Istanbul, Turkey)

They were petty tour operators (not cheats) and I spent some time in their office as they tried to sell me a tour. Since I was dragged there, I might as well figure out where are places I should be visiting. I explained that I do not normally do tours and eventually wrangled a free ride to the next town out of them. As I exited their office, I noticed a “thank you” note written in Korean. It said that the guide was a “pervert” as he “had a sex change operation.”

(Istanbul, Turkey)

(Istanbul, Turkey)

The historic section of Istanbul is a labyrinth of winding alleyways and sloping streets. It is a hive of commercial activity and I spent one morning tumbling up and down these little hills watching the markets slowly come to live. People were sitting on the sidewalks sipping their tea (chai). Some people were on bamboo scaffoldings touching up a building and not too far away, I dodged someone hunched over with a pile of suits on his back, making his way to deliver them. I was lost and I loved it.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

I eventually forced myself to stop my meandering and started making my way to the Agia Sophia. Inside, huge wooden shields adorn the four walls of this ancient temple. They carried Arabic calligraphic and reminded visitors that they stand now in a house of Islam. After visiting Agia Sophia, I walked around looking for a cheap restaurant and came across Istanbul University. Outside, I tried taking a picture of a man with the bushiest beard. He was not pleased and signaled for me to stop. I walked over and he pinched my beardless chin.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

I eventually remembered that I had to make my way south towards the Syrian border, and promptly crossed into the Asian continent. On the way home to pick up my bag, the streets echoed with the cry to prayer. It was a haunting sound. Its sing-song melody was a beautiful accompaniment to the red and violet sky and quiet empty streets.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

(Istanbul, Turkey)

I find Istanbul fascinating for its mixture of Muslim and Christian influences on its places of worship. The scale is amazing too. I grew up next to a mosque in Singapore and until this trip, that mosque formed the image of mosques in my mind. It was a small humble concrete structure in green and yellow, very much unlike the opulent giants of Turkey. The famous mosques of Turkey (perhaps because they copied the Agya Sophia which was itself initially a Church) are also unlike their cousins in Syria. While the most important ones in Syria were built with a large courtyard in the center, which allows the community to interact, the mosques here lacked the courtyard. There were stained classes inside and as I entered the Agia Sophia, the scale of the structure seemed to weigh down on me. Arab calligraphy hung on each corner of the mosque.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

Outside the Agia Sophia near a Serpentine column dating from early Roman history, a middle school girl asked me if I could fill out a survey for her. It took some effort for me to restrain myself - I was tempted to critique her research design and survey design after spending the past year at graduate school having this instinctive critiques drilled into me.

In touring the Topakal palace, what I found interesting was the role and history of the Janissaries. These elite soldiers of the Ottoman empire married palace concubines and negotiated wages through an elaborate ritual conducted over a meal. I wonder if this was done in order to co-opt the military into the ruling hierarchy so as to ensure its loyalty. The system worked for a while as the Ottoman empire came to threaten all of Europe, but from the little I have read, the Janissaries eventually came to prevent the system from taking military reforms needed to keep up with the Europeans.

While the food and sights in Istanbul were amazing, I enjoyed watching and interacting with people most. It was interesting watching how Turkish people wink as a sign of agreement - which I found slightly disconcerting initially. At one of the bazaars, one of the shop-owner played a trick one me. He pointed to my shoes as if there was something stuck to it. After dancing on the spot for a bit trying to figure out what was wrong, I realized he was just pulling my leg. Its nice to be in a place where people don’t cheat you for your money… only for fun. Traveling in other places have lowered my expectations quite a bit.

This is a series of entries from my travels over the past month.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

As my year at Yale drew to an end, I flew into Switzerland for the St Gallen Symposium - fully sponsored by the organizers. I wanted to persuade the organizers to provide the same opportunities to North Koreans. It was also refreshing coming as a representative of Choson Exchange. There is a strong self-selection element here as people who come up to talk to me are genuinely interested in our work in North Korea, versus stating that I am a management consultant at XYZ firm and watching students talk to me because they want to join XYZ prestigious firm. The CEO of the Symposium simply did not believe that North Koreans could bring anything to the forum (which misses the point of having them) but was at least willing to give me the time to put forth my case after the conference.

(Turkey, Istanbul)

The following night after the conference ended, I found myself in Istanbul at a bar overlooking the Bosporus Straits. I was looking over the continental divide between Europe and Asia. Over the straits, seagulls flew back and forth bathed in the orange glow of bright shining Istanbul: it looked as if they were fire dancing in the air. It was a great way to start the summer holidays.

(Istanbul, Turkey)

My Turkish friend, whom I had met in Brazil in 2008, welcomed me with warm arms and took me out for Turkish meshrs (side dishes). One of the dish was called Lahmacun. This involved putting chili over cheese and eating it with a piece of honeydew. It was an unusual and tasty combination, which only confirms to me that anything with chili tastes good.

(Istanbul, Turkey) A Turkish lady speaking to a Korean in Korean

I recently met up with a friend who works at a Korean Chaebol and got her perspective on Chaebol life. Note that this is experience of a single individual in a single organization which might not speak to the general experiences of others in her organization. However, the takeaway is how organizational life can mess you up seriously and how a corporate culture that fosters cohesion can at at the same time blindside the organization to their actual competitiveness.

The Chaebol is a major name in South Korea and employees are constantly reminded about how lucky they are to be working at the place. However, in international markets, the products of the Chaebol exist alongside high-quality products of many other companies. It is seen as just one option among a range of competitive offerings. However, the lack of such awareness has led the company to presume that its brand is as highly regarded abroad as it is at home. The Chaebol’s competitive advantage stems more from its ability to offer low prices for good quality rather than its cutting-edge design or emotional appeal.

Life in the organization is also dysfunctional. The Chaebol functions less as a meritocracy and more as an insular and nepotistic empire. Tales abound of how Korean managers are afraid to speak to foreigners (and delegate all such work to their foreign looking workforce) while struggling hard to integrate these foreigners. Those who climb the corporate hierarchy owe it less to the championed ideals of hard work and ability, and more to their ability to spend a large part of their income and time throwing lavish “room salon” parties (involving prostitution) for their bosses. Respected by its external partners, the company uses proprietary (and often unstable) IT tools for much of its internal work leading to significant productivity losses and hair-pulling. How much of the last bit is corporate life in general and how much is unique to this company is uncertain.

And there are strange rituals such as the interrogation sessions in which line managers are supposed to be grilled overnight about their businesses. But when my friend last called, her friend who was supposed to do the interrogation had taken off with the line manager to get drinks instead.

Its a nice welcome to Seoul…

(Taipei, Taiwan)

My brother, who has been living in Vietnam for the past three years, married a Vietnamese lady. According to my mother, married couples in Vietnam have to announce the wedding in the newspapers three months before the marriage. During this period, anyone can write in to oppose the marriage.

I am not sure how such disputes are resolved since no one opposed my brother’s wedding. But I imagine that an opposition would entail someone from the guy or girl’s childhood declaring his or her crush on the prospective bride or groom since age 7 or 6 or 5… Bride or groom then rides off into the sunset with the childhood lover on a scooter.

I also learned about how South American ladies take an interesting approach to fending off unwanted male attention. When guys ask them for a date, it is customary to gush over how excited they are and how they love to go. And you wait and the day comes and ladies never turn up. This is what a political science researcher told us in our qualitative methods class. She was interviewing paramilitaries in Colombia and they would hit on her. Her friends told her that she should just agree to go and never turn up. The guys understand and no one minds it at all…not even when they are murderous paramilitaries.

(Singapore, Singapore)

The Singaporeans I normally hear about in the US are the well-to-do bankers, consultants or scions of tycoons churned out of the elite track of Singapore’s education system. The type that congregates in New York City, London or Hong Kong living the high life their privileged education has afforded them. This is of course a stereotype…but it is a stereotype steeped in truth.

But there is a gritty underbelly to this immigrant business. Last year, I moved to New Haven for my fellowship. This is a small town two hours west of New York City. A friend whom I met while studying classical Chinese in Beijing welcomed me by bringing me to a restaurant called “Ivy Noodle.” What I heard in the restaurant was unmistakable…the staff spoke with the mixed English and Chinese thick with the Singaporean accent that I am familiar with.

Here was a family from Singapore running a “Chinese” restaurant in Connecticut. I wonder what their story is, but I feel too shy to ask them. Or maybe I feel it is better left unasked. That way, it lingers in my imagination, and it becomes a story to which I project my own reasons for being somewhere else but Singapore.