Pincha mayurasana at 39w1d

Or elbow stand and still pregnant in English... :-)

This picture was taken this morning by my yoga teacher, who said that head stand was really less spectacular than elbow stand. Or peacock feather pose, as it is also known. As the name suggests, in this pose you stand on your elbows and forearms. Since your head doesn't rest on the floor, strength comes from the upper body.

Otherwise not a lot to report. Good blood pressure (me), good heart beat (baby) during the pregnancy check-up last Monday. So we wait...

Damascus - First impressions

Three weeks ago I flew over to Damascus to start my new job. I'd got used to my life of leisure having just taken four weeks leave (I had to try and use up my leave before starting my new job) and was surprisingly anxious for the last couple of days before leaving home, both about leaving my pregnant wife to fend for herself, but also a little weary of the unknown. I didn't really have any expectations about Syria and Damascus, but I knew that my new job was going to be pretty tough, on top of moving country and having a new born baby!

Damascus International Airport was a slight culture shock in comparison with Amsterdam Schiphol and even Paris Charles de Gaule airports. I had to wait about an hour in the queue for passport control and the visa process is rather unique. A number of stamps are placed into your passport (which you have to pay for at a separate counter, something I wasn't aware of until after queuing for an hour). Of course, stamps have to be moistened to activate the glue on the rear side to make them sticky and in such a warm climate, what better source of moisture than that generated by the body! I was a bit surprised to see the passport official sticking the stamps under his shirt and string vest onto his moist chest in order to moisten them... my brand new passport will remain fragrant for a number of years now!

Having picked up my suitcase, I was met by a company driver who chauffeured me to the airport where I was to spend my first two nights. The road from the airport to Damascus is surprisingly good and so my first impression of the roads was a good one.

I was fortunate enough to put up in the nicest hotel in Damascus, The Four Seasons Hotel. I was even more fortunate to be upgraded to a Diplomatic Suite when I checked in (due to limited room availability), so my first impression of the city was that it is rather decadent! I have to say, the hotel is extremely good with a great location and with a room on the sixteenth floor I got a great first view of the city when I woke in the morning.


The city is surprisingly green and surrounded by mountains. It also has in abundance what I missed from our last Middle East adventure... mosques and the call for prayer, the sound of which instantly adds an exotic ambience to the city.

Since I only had two nights in the hotel, I made the most of the facilities to enjoy the late afternoon sun by the pool side after my first day at the office (this is the view of the hotel looking up from the pool side, with a beautiful clear blue sky). Although the climate is pretty hot (it's currently around 38˚ C during the day), it's very dry since Damascus is at a pretty high elevation and protected from the Mediterranean Sea by Lebanon and the Anti-Lebanon mountains (where they grow wine grapes and where you can ski in the winter), which drives most of the moisture out of the air before it hits Damascus. Therefore, it's possible to walk around the city at midday without working up too much of a sweat (taking it easy of course), unlike Dubai where you sweat like crazy just stepping outside!

My favourite time of the day though is early evening when the sun is setting and casting a beautiful orange and red glow across the city. This is the best time to explore the city as not only is the lighting fantastic, but this is when the city really comes alive. Syrians are extremely sociable people and love to meet up with their friends and family in the evenings. They love their food also, so walking around the city in the evening gives a blend of many things... hustle and bustle (shops are generally open until late, most to around 9 p.m.), the smell of grilled food and sweet shisha.

Thursday night is the most popular night for socialising and I was fortunate enough to be shown through the centre of the old city this night by my new boss, starting with the famous 500 m long Souk al Hamidiyeh. Unlike the souks of Dubai, this one is not simply a tourist attraction, but a fully functioning main shopping street that originates from the time of the Romans and has seen a fair share of history. As if to prove it, the roof of this covered souk shows scars from the past as you can clearly see bullet holes letting through the evening sun light. There's a huge array of items for sale down this busy pedestrian street, ranging from traditional arts and crafts to modern plastic moulded products.

At the end of the souk is an original Roman arch, one of seven that are still standing around the old wall that used to defend the city during Roman times, parts of which still stand today. Having been brought up in an old Roman city (that of Lindum) I'm used to seeing remnants of the Roman empire, but here they seem more integrated into the every day life of the city's inhabitants.

Just beyond the Roman arch lies Umayyad Mosque, which is home to the head of John the Baptist. What struck me about this place is its accessibility. Access to the large courtyard is gained simply by removing ones shoes and rather than being met by silence and contemplation, instead there are families and friends chatting and even having picnics with children playing games and running around. Damascus is a unique place, where Muslims and Christians are integrated together in society, where you'll find a church and a mosque located side by side with absolutely no issues. It therefore felt completely normal and accepted as a Westerner to be walking around inside the mosque. In general, Damascus feels like the one of the safest, friendliest places I have ever visited (at least when I'm not in a car, but that's a different issue).


The night was finished off at a great restaurant in the heart of the old city, where I was re-introduced to an old friend of mine, arabic meze, washed down with Almaza beer.

After two nights in the hotel, I was moved into a temporary transit apartment in West Mazzeh. This is considered to be an affluent area of the city and is host to a large number of embassies. Accommodation in this area is generally low rise (four storey) apartment buildings, of which I was provided a first floor apartment. The picture shows a typical residential street in this area. Apartments are typically three or four bedrooms and around 150 m3, the ground floor apartments having decent sized gardens and the others generally having good sized balconies.

I spent a quiet Friday morning (the Syrian weekend is Friday and Saturday and Friday morning is especially quiet) walking around the neighbourhood finding my bearings. Although Damascus only has a couple of large supermarkets, the local market shops are pretty well stocked up and there are plenty of food stores and restaurants serving good food. Also, contrary to popular belief, it's pretty easy to find Coca Cola, although Pepsi appears to be more popular. The best fruit and vegetables however I surprisingly bought from small stalls on the sides of the road, like the one pictured here.

My office is located approximately 10 km outside of Damascus in the suburban district of Dummar. It's about a fifteen minute drive from my accommodation depending on the traffic, which brings us on to driving. It was quite a shock for the first few days, but fortunately for the first week I was sat in the passenger seat having been provided a driver to help me acclimatise. I have to admit that at the end of the week I was a little nervous about driving myself, however my driver taught me the golden rules: the car in front has right of way; don't be afraid to use your horn; always look ahead and expect the unexpected. Regarding traffic rules, there don't appear to be any. For example, there are lines marked on the roads, but there are no lanes... you simply drift into the gaps. Once I was familiar with the (lack of) rules, my fun of driving became rekindled. Let's face it, driving in Europe is now so regulated that frankly it's boring. Having said that, the roads in Syria are dangerous. The roads themselves are surprisingly good, but the driving is amongst the worse I've seen. But like most things that are dangerous... it's also great fun. Anyway, the picture is the view from the top floor of my new fifteen storey office.

One of my objectives during this first visit to Damascus was to choose our accommodation for the next three years. After looking around a few apartments in Mazzeh and also some villas out of town, I chose a second floor apartment (after consulting with Flo of course) in the lively district of East Mazzeh, overlooking a cactus field at the rear. Pictures inside the apartment can be seen here (the furniture is of the current occupants).

Damascus Appartment #1

Damascus is far bigger and more developed than I expected. Although it's reasonably green, it used to be far greener as it's located in a river valley that used to be forested until the trees were cut down to make space for housing. With a population of around four to five million and with low pollution standards, the city invariably develops a bit of a smog, which you can see in this picture taken from the mountain side overlooking the city from the north. On a clear day (when there's a bit of a breeze to clear away the smog) you can see a mountain range at the far end of the city. What's nice about the city is that it's still relatively low rise, the highest building being the Four Seasons Hotel at about eighteen stories, but this building towers above the rest of the city.

The surrounding countryside is generally mountainous and rocky and pretty barren. Although snow sometimes falls on the city in the winter and more frequently higher up in the surrounding mountains, there hasn't been any good rainfall for a couple of years and this is starting to show, despite the best efforts of the government to water the plants and trees.

I was actually a little sad to leave the city after a couple of weeks, since I was just starting to get a feel for the place and begin to know my way around (or at least pluck up the courage to explore a little). However, it was good to get back to the cleanliness and order of the Netherlands and what struck me as I flew over Rotterdam, Delft, Den Haag and finally Amsterdam on my return is just how green it is in Western Europe, something I for one take for granted here. Having said that, I'm quickly getting bored of the persistent cause of the greenery... it's hardly stopped raining since I've been back. Of course, I sorely missed Flo while I was away, which reminded me that experiences have limited value done solo and are much better when accompanied by a loved one. So, as much as I enjoyed Damascus and look forward to discovering more, I won't feel at ease until I'm joined by my family and have them to share in these new experiences. We'll have to change the name of the blog though... to the adventures of Jonny, Flo and... oh yeah, I'm not allowed to say the name yet!

Thirty-eight weeks and almost there!

Three weeks ago I left home for Syria. It was a tough thing for me to do, since Flo was at thirty-five weeks and the baby could potentially have been born any day and I didn't want to miss that! I'd just spent four weeks on leave from work, spending the time with Flo and nurturing the little girl inside her. But at 6:30 am on 1st July, here's is how I left Flo; I took this picture minutes before I left the house, not knowing how long I would be gone for, but determined I'd be gone for no longer than two weeks.

You can imagine then how happy I was to be returning exactly two weeks later, so glad that Flo had managed to keep the little one happy inside her and that I hadn't missed the arrival of our daughter into the world. And what a change! In just two weeks, Flo's beer belly (ha ha, she'll hate me saying that) has turned into a proper, beautifully round pregnant belly!


I've even had to restore the camera to landscape mode to capture the width and her belly is now officially larger than mine!

Although Flo is obviously starting to feel the strain of our little girl inside her, she's still doing remarkably well, especially considering how frail and fragile she was only a couple of months back. Yesterday she was at yoga, admittedly taking it easy, but stretching out and maintaining her health nonetheless. This morning we went swimming and I was surprised at how much energy Flo seems to have! Whereas I was feeling weak and a bit fragile (still getting used to bacteria from Damascus), Flo was zipping up and down the lane. It made me giggle, since a few colleagues have told me that mothers get a bit hyper-active close to the birth as the chemical balances start to prepare for the delivery. The great thing about her doing exercise is that it forces her to go and have a nap afterwards, which she would be less likely to do otherwise since she'd feel guilty about not having done anything, but physical tiredness overrides this mental anxiety.

So, we're expecting the baby any day now really. It's been an extremely long journey for the both of us and we're at the point where we're starting to get a bit impatient. We'd both so much like her to arrive now so we can finally get to meet her, although Flo is also getting a bit anxious about the delivery I think, which is pretty understandable. But the main thing is, we're both extremely happy!

37w5d and Jonny's back home

*Exhale. Relax*

Now I can pack my hospital bag.

I would not really call myself superstitious, although I picked up a few superstitions when I lived in Brazil. Like don't place your handbag on the floor because money will drain away. I NEVER put my handbag on the floor and yet my money still drains away like it is water anyway.

It makes complete sense from a hygiene perspective however. A survey revealed how 30 per cent of women’s handbags contain 100 million particles of faecal matter per square inch on their surface, probably from being placed on the floors of public toilets. Yuk.

I know that my mother giving me sanitary towels when I was thirteen and went to stay with friends of my parents in Brittany, did not bring on my first period. It gave evidence of her foresight rather than it defying forces of nature. Which I was convinced of at the time. She still likes to tease me about it. In my defence it is quite sweet to attribute such almighty powers to your mum.

I also know that packing a bag does not induce labour. Nor does putting a maternity bed mat in your bed. And yet I have been putting those things off. Just in case. With Jonny home safely, I can now pack my hospital bag and put the car seat in the car. Any day now...

On nesting instinct

Last Sunday I was struck by sudden anxiety. I had been restless and nauseous all afternoon and then figured it might be because I was tired. So I slept. But when I woke up the nausea was still there and the anxiety turned into a mad panic. It felt like panic had been injected straight into my bloodstream with a syringe. What if this was the onset of labour and I did not know? How would I know if this was the real thing? What if our little girl had decided to come early while Jonny was still abroad? Would I be able to tell him in time to come back so he could be there for the birth of his daughter?

Add to that the fact that Jonny is in a place where telecommunications are not up to the standards we are used to over here. Connections break in the middle of a conversation, missed calls don't show up on the display and messages arrive three times. Or not at all. So I freaked. And when I spoke to him, all I could do was cry.

He reacted with all the patience of the world (the joy of having a pregnant wife!) and told me everything would work out, that we have a plan B in place and he reminded me what the acupuncturist told me last week. She said that my belly is still calm and relaxed, that there is still place for our girl to grow and that there is a certain degree of control from the mind over the body. Meaning we are going to wait with delivery until Jonny is back. Which is at least until next Monday.

That was all true and it calmed me down considerably. Now all is back to a calmer mental state chez Corcutt and I am concentrating on preparation for labour, delivery and the first days after the birth. All this while I am happily aware that there is no such thing as preparing for something that you have no control over. So every now and then I remind myself of what my mother once said to me: the only thing you can prepare for is that it is going to be different than you expect.

Up until now Jonny has done most of the nesting: trying to make the baby room habitable in time for baby girl's arrival, oiling the wooden floors and organising the house. And he has done a wonderful job. Personally I hoped that my nesting instinct would kick in big time. The fridge could do with a clean, as do the windows and I am sure that our linen cupboard would look a whole lot better given just a little TLC.

Instead I find myself cooking meals for the freezer, making sure we don't run out of groceries (like, erm, icing sugar- which is obviously an essential for life with a newborn?) and making lists. Lists with music to listen to during labour, what to pack in my hospital bag, general what to do lists. I think it's partly raging hormones, but it's also a way to take control because I feel slightly out of control at the moment...