Far more excited than I have the right to be.

Distracting myself from the delectable form of Jennifer Garner as Agent Bristow, I started browsing Lonely Planet pages.

I get the feeling from everyone I speak to, that talk of local’s hospitality should instil deep-seated fear as a solo female traveller, but it merely sets my digits on fire with longing to discover it. Can you imagine anyone here opening their doors as they see a stranger passing by, and welcoming them in to share a brew, a meal, a tale or two? Honestly?

Then, as the topic melded into that of local foods, my tongue began to dance.

In Syria “Arabic unleavened bread, or khoobz Arabi, is eaten with almost everything. The other staples are felafel, deep-fried chickpea balls; shwarma, spit-cooked sliced lamb; and foul, a paste of fava beans, garlic and lemon. Mensaf is a Bedouin speciality - a whole lamb, head included, on a bed of rice and pine nuts.” I don’t know why Mensaf doesn’t scare me, as a vegetarian it should, in light of rules of hospitality, for I know I’ll be unable to refuse at some point. But since I’ve resolved to do the whole Spider thing, I might as well go the whole hog (or, um, sheep), right? (Please, please understand that this does not mean I’ll be rushing for a big-mac, or trekking to the butchers, it simply means that for complete, positive, inoffensive experiences, I’m gonna have to swallow my principles, gristle and all).