July 20, 840 It has been about two weeks since my departure from Damascus, as the driver of the chariot has told me. I already lost count of my days here. It is so much different than modern day in the western hemisphere. The most noticeable thing is the intense heat and the cloclothes that these people wore. I however, was wearing traditional clothes from Iran, and I can tell that we were approaching the Iranian borders of the silk road as we came upon the next town. When the caravan stopped I noticed that the streets of the larger town were full and bustling with life. Small children chased baby sheep or played an ancient version of what I knew as tag. Along the streets were shops and carts with happy merchants waiting behind the counters shouting to our party of foreign merchants, ready to trade. My guide showed me some of the products that the town made. Most of which included pottery or corn and fresh water. This town was called ctesiphon, on the border of Iran.