Hummus will be the best you’ve ever eaten, Baklava will melt in your mouth, grand bazaars full of endless trinkets & hidden treasure, beautiful citadels turn golden in the afternoon sun, and shisha so sweet that breathing oxygen seems boring.
But eventually you’ll get tired of it.
Sleeping on roofs seems like a nice idea – until flies are buzzing your face at 5.30am
The incessant Call-to-Prayer blaring over the entire city every 5 minutes, too loud to even continue your conversation.
Nations of men that don’t wear deodorant, fingers stuck up their nose all day, spitting everywhere and grabbing there crotches like they’ve got crabs.
Women who (literally) can not see sideways because burkas are covering their field of vision, haphazardly bump through bizarres like logs down a river.
Taxi drivers who’s meters never work and never know where the bus-station is.
People yelling, there’s no such thing as talking, only yelling.
Mobile street vendors that always think you need a new watch/belt/socks/razor/TV remote during the middle of your dinner.
And nobody, in any business, anywhere, ever having change.
The great idea of hanging around longer to learn some Arabic suddenly becomes much less appealing, those extra, more distant day-trips never eventuate, and chicken shwarma is actually better back home.
Pleased that you made the effort, but skeptical if you’ll ever go back, you’ll grab some type of fortified souvenir (made in China), pack whats left of your luggage (as most of its gone ‘missing’ in the laundry),
Then finally you’ll leave.