Sure, he was a bit younger, but hey–why not. When I was told that he and I were supposed to act as husband and wife, I didn’t mind at all. His British accent was just right and he was sweet. His name was Matthew and he was handsome. My fellow foreign actors and I obeyed and minutes later, we were out in the middle of the desert in the fabricated town, getting ready to….act. “OK…come now…we need you,” a man in a white shirt and jeans said, summoning us. There were two choices: outside in the extreme heat (dry heat stops mattering when it’s over 100) or in the Actor’s Room–which I quickly renamed the Instant Asthma Lounge as nearly everyone was chain smoking. The Actors’ Roomīeing an extra–as many people know–is often a waiting game. Definitely not small potatoes–or even baby pitas. The director? Someone pretty major–like a Spielberg or Coppola. Where’d the idea for this very costly production come from? An Emirati prince, a poet, who wanted to make it happen. “And there’s a mariage.some violence… and more.” “There’s a town and Bedouins and British,” said the smarmy agent said when I asked him. The plot? I still don’t quite know–even after googling for a few months. In minutes, I went from American backpacker to an aristocratic Brit from the the late 1800s. We were made up, dressed up in formal clothes (including stockings and high heels) and then asked to….wait….until it was time for the camera, lights and action. It’s hard for me to say no to a once-in-a-lifetime experience–especially one that’s quirky and off the beaten path.Ī couple hours later, I found myself in the middle of the desert with about 7 other foreigners and a bunch of professional actors–including a famous one–in a completely fabricated town, from the late 1800s. “Well, OK–why not….sure,” I said, immediately feeling like a commitment-phobe with buyer’s remorse. Well, that certainly made it all seem legit and so…. At that moment, one of the kitchen employees, Alla (not to be confused with Allah), gave me the thumbs up. I was on a 40-day trip and $50 went pretty far in Syria. Truth be told–the money and the meal were somewhat appealing. “Um, well.I’m not sure.” I chuckled, thinking that I must really look like a low-budget traveler in need of a meal. And you get to eat good food and you make $50.” “I don’t know….I was going to relax today.” I was half tempted to say, “No thanks, I’ve got a headache.” “Also, I’m not British.” I laughed since I’d been mistaken for German hundreds of time, but never British. I was not in the mood to be hit on so early in the day. “What? Who are you and what are you talking about?” I asked, nearly rolling my eyes. Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t notice the borderline smarmy man in a Hawaiian shirt (like a Girls Gone Wild recruiter), looking both sweaty and frazzled, who’d arrived at my table. Perhaps it was too soon to be that committed? Maybe I needed to date a little more… Talent Scout I was lingering over breakfast in the hotel courtyard, enjoying the quiet and the cool morning air and reflecting on how much I loved the city and almost wanted to commit to him (it) and to stay longer, perhaps enrolling in an Arabic course.īut I was feeling a bit torn….between him and his more conservative brother Aleppo (and the rest of the country). Well, it began quite innocently in Damascus, a city I fell for rather quickly. So how’d I end up with with 2 husbands…in 1 day? In fact, that was the last thing on my mind. Sure I was a SWF in Syria, but I wasn’t there to meet men. (Click here to read Part 1 of this series re: my 1st date with this country.)
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