My three trips to Syria resulted in plenty of funny stories. Thus, it is really difficult to select one. I finally narrowed them down to the stories of the Syrian Mukhabarat (not-so-secret-police) following me everywhere for my own safety and to my pet-donkey from 1981. Everyone can be followed by the secret police but only a few people can become a legend in their own time. And it appears that I am one of them -- my perceived (by others) "stupidity" earned me the honor of being remembered as a "'mazmazelle' (mademoiselle) who washed a donkey."

The pictures are of the donkey I washed. Why? Picture it... hot desert in 1981. I was working with the Polish expedition on archaeological excavations in Palmyra: three guys and a young lady (me). Once the work was done the two young guys were basically dead waiting for dinner cooked by me (nothing I am higly skilled at but everyone survived) when my professor, the one and only with the brain of a genius and social skills of Jackie O, Michal Gawlikowski, was ready for more explorations. So, he, with his freshly broken leg, and I, with more energy than a litter of kittens, explored robbed Roman tombs. As a financially challenged expedition we could not afford a car so donkeys were our best bet. While Professor Gawlikowski didn't develop any emotional attachment for his donkey, I treated mine as a pet. But he (the donkey, not Gawlikowski) suffered from the pain of being owned by local people with no regard for his well-being. He was dirty. Extremely dirty. The flies and whatever other creatures are attracted to dirt were eating my donkey alive. He was not a happy donkey. So one day I decided to wash him. Yes, I used my share of water (priceless in the desert at the time) and an expensive German soap (somehow there were no shampoos for animals available in Syria at the time) to clean my donkey's body. The whole village of Tadmor ran to see this event. While everyone thought I was crazy (I praised the Sumerian gods for not understanding Arabic well enough), the donkey loved his bath. We got our "relationship" to a new level. He cried when I was not around and followed me the minute he saw me. Unfortunately, we parted but at least I know he died as a donkey with happy memories.

My exploration started with Damascus, the largest city and capital of Syria. I landed in Damascus on September 27, 2008, just a few hours after Al Qaida, presumably, detonated a car with over 200 kg of explosives killing 17 people and injuring another 14 -- all civilians. This took place on a busy road from the airport to my hotel. The target was supposedly the Intelligence Office but... as usual, the innocent people ended up being the true victims. Such attacks are very rare in Syria which manages to preserve her sanity in spite of numerous attempts, mainly from outside of her borders as claimed by the locals, to destabilize this beautiful country.

Robert Worth, New York Times