As one of the greatest and fastest-growing industries of our time, one with significant impacts upon societies and economies almost everywhere, tourism (mass travel for pleasure and recreation) merits serious historical study. In the Middle East and North Africa, the turning point in travel for trade, exploration, adventure, and religious inspiration to travel primarily for leisure occurred in Egypt and Syria/Palestine during the 1880s. Tourism, however, is not only intrinsically important. Its origins and development also shed light upon the great themes of Middle East history: (1) modernization (the introduction of Western techniques, methods and materials), and (2) colonial expansion and empire.

Rai music has traveled far and undergone remarkable transmutations since the early days of its development in Wahran (Oran) during the first decades of the twentieth century. Originally performed at weddings and in bars, mostly by women singers known as cheikhat, the instrumentation was simple (a reed flute known as a qasba, a single-stringed viol or rbab, and a hand drum known as the gellal) and the vocals, raucous and sometimes bawdy. The lyrics consisted of formulaic couplets, and mostly dealt with relations between men and women. The early recordings of rai's greatest female vocalist, Cheikha Rimitti are the essential foundation of any collection of rai music.

The publication of Edward Said's seminal investigation of Orientalism as a discursive construction of the Other has triggered an interrogative move towards a re-reading of Western representations of Eastern peoples and geographies. Almost forlorn now is the practice of reading literary productions within an exclusively aesthetic framework of poetic tradition. Anything one writes is already a production – a representation marked by what Derrida calls “violence of the letter.” It is a violence “of difference, of classification, and of the system of appellations” (1976, p. 110).

In the summer of 2002, more Americans – 1.3 million – heard the music of Central Asia in just a few days than in the entire previous history of the United States. Some 370,000 of them picked up the extensive, well-documented guidebook to the 36th annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival, which broke all attendance records. As they traipsed through the humid haze of the Washington Mall, staggering into the sun baked tents to see crafts and hear music, this crowd was in a good mood. Kids asked to see the Bactrian camels, who, like their handlers, were Texans. People crowded the sprawling crafts exhibits to watch artisans, then jammed the sales pavilions to scoop up gifts and albums, also at unprecedented levels. The surging spectators jammed the tents for most of the shows on the two days I was there. The reception was rousing. The organizers had brought not just “classic” performers, but contemporary musicians, like the Kazakh rock band Roksonaki. The small stock of their CDs sold out on the first day, and their performances regularly received standing ovations.