This is a travelogue of my five and a half-week trip around Syria, Jordan and Egypt during October and November 1998.

I travelled with a close friend of mine, Nick Gunn. We stayed in budget accommodation and travelled mostly by public transport.

I nearly didn’t get to Newbury for 7:00 as expected, as my London train was late and I consequently had to rush like mad to get onto the tube to Paddington for my connection. I only had seconds to spare. Anyway – I made it and Nick was waiting for me at the station. We had a quick pint at the Bacon, returned to his flat to double check everything (quickly) and then strolled over to his local – The Gun.

We settled into chat and a few pints before heading back to Nick’s flat where we ordered a very large Pizza and watched a weird 1980s film about cat people. We eventually hit the sack - alarms set, in anticipation.

We rose at 5:40 a.m. and our taxi arrived at 6:15 as expected. The traffic along the M4 was already getting pretty nasty. For a while I thought we’d never make it in time, but we got to Heathrow about an hour before lift off. Check-in with Air France was easy and we managed to squeeze a breakfast in. We opted for a healthy breakfast – big mistake – paying lots of money for bugger all food. Nick had a bowl of pink grapefruit for something like £2.60!

Our flight to Paris was delayed and we only had about 20 minutes to dash between terminals (via duty-free) to get our onward flight to Damascus. The flight was fine – food was OK and we arrived in Damascus sometime around six o’clock in the evening.

Passing through Damascus airport was a breeze. I had sort of expected lots of security, hassle and bureaucracy, but we just filled a form in and passed through immigration with no fuss at all. Once on the outside we decided to try and get the airport bus, as taxi drivers were asking for lots of money. We soon found the bus stop, which was only 100 yards from the exit, and a Syrian lad called Zaid, who was returning from Paris (and spoke perfect English) helped us out. The bus was old and battered but quick & we sped into the heart of Damascus in about 20 minutes. – All for just S£10 (about 15 pence).

We decided we would stay in one of the popular backpackers hotels and chose the Al-Haramain .Our friend, Zaid, showed us to the street and we dropped our stuff in the reception. It’s a nice place – an old townhouse that has been converted into a hotel. It’s rickety and quite run down, yet clean and friendly. All rooms were full so we paid S£150 each to bed down on a mattress on the roof.

After a glass of tea and a good chat with the owners and a tailor, who worked across the road, we took a wander around Damascus. We just strolled around the nearby streets, soaking in the atmosphere and attempting to get our bearings. The first few things I noticed were that there were lots of people and vehicles on the streets, lots of blatant horn blowing and lots of police about. When we got hungry we stopped at a kerbside Shwarma "joint" and had a lamb Shwarma (a bit like a donner kebab). It went down very well and we both agreed that eating kebabs for 6 weeks would not be a problem! On the way back a Police guard waved us over. He was young, with an AK47 and looked bored. He didn’t speak any English. I couldn’t understand what he wanted and I got a bit worried (this was my first night in Syria remember). I soon sussed out that he just wanted a chat and we were soon laughing and shaking hands and telling each other our names.

We retired to our roof and collapsed into slumber at about 10:30. It was a warm, pleasant evening.

Sleeping on the roof wasn’t bad at all – quite warm and comfortable. We both slept pretty well & although it was a little noisy at times it wasn’t too bad. Of course, the call to prayer from the local Mosque wakes virtually everyone at 5:30 (or some unearthly time like that). We headed to Martyr Square for breakfast. On the way Nick had to return to get his wallet (which he’d accidentally left under his pillow!). As he sped off and I sat watched the world go by in the Square, I realised he had the guide book, so I shouted "Nick Nick" to stop him. Everyone stared at me and a few men shouted at me. I thought nothing of it, but it all became clear later when a young Sudanese guy at the hotel laughed when Nick told him his name. He told us "Nick" was very similar to an Arabic swear word!! From then on, Nick was known as either Nicholas or Reg.

We decided to do a walking tour of Old Damascus. We started of at the Souq al-Hamadiyyeh a huge covered market. It was full of people selling all kinds of stuff. I was quite amazed at the lack of hassle we got. Unlike many countries where a foreign tourist is just seen as a pile of money. We got very little attention, just the odd "Welcome" or "Where are you from". Only a couple of blokes approached us trying to entice us into their carpet shops. At the other end of the Souq we passed through a stunning Roman archway which was part of the remains of the Temple of Jupiter. Behind this is the huge Omayyad Mosque. Built in 705 on the site of ancient temples and a Christian cathedral, it’s a beautiful building, huge in size with three original minarets. The heat was quite intense so the shady peace of the mosque was welcomed. We were lucky to be present at prayer time, and we saw hundreds of the faithful gathering inside. We continued walking around the narrow streets of the old city, observing many smaller mosques and interesting buildings. Damascus is reputed to be the oldest, continually populated, city in the world. After walking around the old city I could believe it. Apart from the cars, honking horns and the odd stereo playing modern music, it really did appear that time had stood still.

After some more walking we got talking to a man who spoke fairly good English. He was very friendly and he took us to a small café to drink tea and chat. It was a superb little place full of men of all ages, drinking hot sweet shay (tea) out of glasses, small cups of strong Arabic coffee, smoking the Nargileh (water pipe) and playing Backgammon. We soon made many friends and our afternoon walking tour went on hold for a couple of hours. We sampled the Nargileh ourselves for the first time and found it very pleasant. The Tobacco is mixed with apple and is very sweet and fruity. We tried different kinds of tea and chatted with a few of the patrons. One man was asking me why English football fans like to throw chairs around! Only our friend we met on the street and another man called Abraham spoke English so they did the translation work. It was a good way to soak in the way of life in Damascus.

We eventually took up our friends offer to look around the Christian quarter of the old city. He was crippled – maybe suffering from Polio, but walked at a keen pace. We were taken to some really interesting places such as Bab Kusan (St Paul’s chapel) where St Paul was reputably lowered from a basket to escape the Jews, and the old underground Chapel of Ananais. We stopped en-route at his house for some more tea and he showed us some of the quieter and very narrow streets. We got back to the café (for more tea, Nargileh, etc) late in the afternoon and we were quite surprised that our friend didn’t ask for baksheesh or anything for his troubles. What a nice bloke. We did give him a tip for his kindness, which he reluctantly accepted, and after a bit more tea we were on our way.

After a quick phone call home we went to the "Damascus Workers Club" to eat, as recommended by someone in the hotel. It was a large garden setting, with a fountain and soft music – very pleasant. There was no menu, just a choice of chicken or lamb, and more importantly they served beer. We had a couple of bottles of Baroda beer (weak but tasty) and a meal each, which consisted of lots of meat (skewered kebab style), lots of bread and various dips (like humus), salad, chillies and chips. Delicious and filling. The bill was about UK£4 each – and this was quite expensive!

14th October 1998

I Slept like a log in our room last night and we started off reasonably early – grabbing some fresh unleavened bread from a "hole in the wall" bakers for breakfast. We continued our wander around the old city, venturing into some spice and meat souqs, and looking around some smaller mosques. We returned to the same café where we met our friends (it seems like they spend most of the day there!) for a chat and some spicy coffee. We spent quite some time watching the world go by, but eventually dragged ourselves away after a quick shawarma.

In the afternoon we had decided we would take a Microbus to a district on the edge of Damascus called Muhajireen, to get a view of the city. We found the place to get the correct Microbus station but found the language barrier difficult when trying to explain where we wanted to go. In the end we managed to get a lift to Muhajireen for a few pounds and then we were convinced to "hire" the whole bus (once empty) to take us even further to the top of the adjacent mountain. This was worthwhile, as the views were excellent. We spent some time up there and then drove back down into the busy centre of Damascus. On the way back the police stopped the Microbus & the driver was "fined". I don’t know what for, but it seemed to be standard procedure for vehicles to be stopped and made to pay various amounts of money.

The driver tried to get more money out of us when we arrived back in town, but we refused as we felt the S£200 we had paid was already more than enough. A fairly feeble argument started up, but we refused to budge and we jumped out and stormed away. As we were about to turn the corner the two guys in the Microbus pulled up and tooted the horn. I walked back expecting to get more hassle, but they simply smiled and handed back our guidebook which we had accidentally left on the back seat! Syrians are VERY honest. I felt a little guilty for not giving them extra money.

In the evening we went back to the Damascus Workers Club for more good food and then chatted for a long time to a local tailor, who spoke good English. He gave us some great tips for Syria and we made lots of notes.

We got up at 6:00 a.m., packed and checked out. We hailed a taxi to the bus station (S£30 on the meter).

When we arrived at the bus station I noticed that it was very secure. Every incoming passenger had to pass through an airport style security and baggage check. They appeared to be very intricate – checking everyone’s bags, but when we approached the guard said "Which Country". We told him "England" and he just said "Welcome to Syria" and waved us through, without checking a thing.

Nick had a dodgy feeling in his stomach and had to dash to the bus station toilet a couple of times and I managed to awaken an old neck injury, which meant I couldn’t twist my neck without lots of pain. We looked a right pair of invalids! We waited half and hour before we got a quite luxurious bus to Palmyra for S£120 each.

The journey was smooth and the bus was only half full with no other travellers on it. We were subjected to Arabic "pop" music and a video showing an Arabic version of "West Side Story". The bus was, however, air-conditioned and they gave us water, sweets and tissues. It took about three hours and we passed through some amazing desert. Not much going on except for a huge chemical factory bloating out thick fumes - just out there in the middle of nowhere. We saw lots of small Bedouin camps.

We checked into a hotel which had been recommended – the Ishtar. It wasn’t the cheapest, but it was very clean and we got a twin room with a hot shower and even air-con for S£250 each.

Palmyra is a spectacular site. It is a ruined Roman city lying pretty much in the middle of Syria. On one side are the mountains (part of the Anti-Lebanon range), and on the other is vast open flat stony desert. Palmyra consists of the Roman City, an Arab castle, the "new" town and an oasis full of palm trees.

We waited for the sun to drop a little before venturing out to do some exploring. Firstly we took a battered 40-year-old Mercedes taxi to the Valley of the Tombs. We entered two of the Funerary Towers and scrambled around inside looking at the tombs. We then returned to the main site and wandered around the ruins. The Roman City of Palmyra covers a large area and the real beauty of visiting is that there are no restrictions to where you walk. It was great to just wander around, exploring various parts and examining the many columns which still stand and even shards of Roman pottery which still scatter the whole area.

In the late afternoon we climbed up a steep hill to get to the Arab Castle which overlooks the ruins. It was a fairly easy, but steep, slog up there, but we were rewarded with some fabulous views. We stayed around until sunset and then walked back down. Wandering through the Roman ruins in semi darkness was quite eerie.

We got back to our hotel, showered off (we were covered in dust and sand) and ate before crashing out quite early after out long day.

I really enjoyed visiting Palmyra – much better than I had expected. It was so good to visit such an amazing place without being marched around, told where to go, or having to put up with hordes of tourists.

We overslept a little but still managed a quick breakfast of bread, yoghurt, olives, cheese and jam. We headed directly to the bus station and got another nice bus for S£80 each. It took just over two hours to get to Deir-ez-Zur. We got mobbed as we stepped off the bus by taxi drivers and I instantly got the idea that not many travellers were coming through this town. We haggled for a while and eventually got a taxi for S£50 to town. The only budget place we could find was the Damas Hotel – very cheap at S£325 for a room, but it was an absolute shit-hole with pigsty toilets. Our room had a balcony and overlooked the main crossroads.

Deir-ez-Zur is a very Arabic feeling town. We wandered around a bit and made it down to the Euphrates River. We bumped into a Dutch couple who we had chatted to in Palmyra (a mother and son) and we all drank tea in a pleasant café by the river. Later on we wandered back and sat in a café under the hotel – right on the crossroads where all the action was. We sat amongst curious Arab men, all dressed in their traditional Caftan, smoking their Nargilehs and sipping tea or coffee. It was a good place to people watch and chill out for a while, and the drinks were amazingly cheap at S£5 per cup. There didn’t appear to be much else to do in town.

We both went to the local barber for a shave and then met the Dutch couple at the Cairo restaurant in the evening. We sipped beers and then ate a "minty, salty cheese and toasted bread" type dish which was awful!

We found out that the Dutch couple (Matthaus and Hetta) had a rental car, and they agreed to give us a lift to see the sites along the road to Abu Kamal tomorrow. Excellent! This would save us the hassle of hitching and getting minibuses and having to hang around in Deir for another night. We had another beer and Hetta had a bottle of the local spirit – Arak, before retiring back to the smelly, dirty Hotel Damas.

The trip south with the Dutch couple, in their old rental Volvo, was excellent. First stop was Qala’at-ar-Rabba, a 13^th century Arab castle. Extremely ruined but very large and in an impressive position with excellent views over the Euphrates valley – a strip of fertile land surrounded by harsh desert.

After driving on for quite some time we reach the huge ancient walled city of Dura Europos. The journey took us through many small villages and it felt like time had stood still. Lots of traditional farming (especially cotton), women riding on donkeys and all the men in their white Khaftan and red/white kafia (head-dress).

Dura Europos dates from 280 B.C. and is a massive walled city – or at least what is left of it. It’s built on the only "high" piece of ground for many miles. A guard at the entrance, complete with gun and motorbike, was quite amusing, although he charged us S£200 each to get in. Fair enough.

We walked around the ruins for hours, and even though the sun was pretty fierce, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. There were no other people there, so we had the place to ourselves. The views were excellent.

We drove onwards to the small border town of Abu Kamal. A very dusty, traditional town, which reminded me of being back in India. We stopped in the main square for tea and it was packed full of people as it was market day. We got plenty of attention but no hassle. Matthaus decided he wanted to drive down to the Iraqi border to have a look. Nick and I weren’t too keen, but we decided it was either that or hang around in Abu Kamal and possibly miss a lift back.

The border was quiet and Matthaus drove through the first checkpoint without noticing, until three guards ran out waving guns. Oops! Although they looked quite menacing, the guards were very friendly and we just made out we were lost. They just seemed happy for some action for a few minutes.

We turned round and drove back through Abu Kamal, where we witnessed our first (and only) bout of Syrian road rage. A Microbus driver ran into a cyclist, who didn’t take too kindly to this and they had a tussle in the street. Matthaus nearly crapped his pants and slammed the car into reverse! Strange how he wanted to go to the border yet a little scuffle in the street made him panic.

We drove on for three hours and reached Raqqa just before dark (17:00). Raqqa is a bustling town, nothing special but pleasant enough. We checked into the Amar Hotel. S£500 per room for a night. Not cheap but there didn’t seem to be many other options and it seemed Ok (although the toilets where pretty stinky). We ate at a nice place called At Rashid’s – the usual meat, bread, humus, etc. I spent half an hour sitting in the hotel helping a man who worked there with his English homework and then hit the sack. Hetta, who was quite fond of "the sauce", hit the Arak in her room !

There was apparently a bit of a drama in the hotel last night. Hetta, the Dutch lady, went to the toilet later on and when she came out after doing what she needed to do, the hotel worker (who I’d earlier helped with his homework), was standing outside the door having a bit of a "ham shank" !! Mattheus got naturally upset and he threatened to get the police, but it all fizzled out when they realised that that would only cause more hassles.

It transpired that the Dutch couple had decided to go to Rasafeh, so we got another lift with them – which was nice. We actually drove past the Rasafeh turning by about 50 Km (missed the sign – oops!), but turned around and drove along the rough desert road until we reached it. You could see this huge walled city from quite some distance.

Rasafeh is another superb ruined site. Another "right there in the middle of no-where" sort of place and luckily it was very quiet – not a tour bus for miles. It was the residence of Hisham ibn Abdul Malik, the third Omayyad Caliph, built in the 4^th century. He was in favour of simplicity and modesty; this is why he chose Rasafeh, in the middle of the desert, as his residence. He died and was buried there.

The entrance gate is enormous and inside there are some impressively huge under-ground cisterns, which were used to hold vast amounts of water. It’s still possible to walk around most of the ramparts, and as always in Syria, there are no restrictions on where you walk or clamber. The Basilica, which is one of the more complete ruins inside Rasafeh, was very impressive and made a nice shady spot for a break and a place to soak the atmosphere up.

It seems to me that the 300 S£ entrance fee to Rasafeh is a new thing, as it took a while for the guardian to appear. When he asked for the fee we weren’t too pleased (as we thought it was free), he just asked for S£200 for both of us! Maybe he just pocketed the money himself. We spent about two hours wandering about and could have easily spent longer. The Dutch couple "escaped" the guardian to avoid paying, and ended up sitting out in the sun for a long time waiting for us.

We drove on to Aleppo and arrived in the late afternoon. It’s a big city – Syria’s 2^nd biggest – and the road network was both confusing and extremely congested. We drove around for ages trying to find the central hotel area, and Matthaus, although an excellent driver, was starting to drive the Syrian way – erratic and dangerously. At one stage we found ourselves going down a four lane one way street – the wrong way. Mind you – nobody seemed to care too much.

We eventually found a central area to dump the car. Matteus and Hetta decided they were going up-market (hotel wise) so we said our goodbyes. We wandered the streets looking for a hotel and found two nice but too expensive places, before a really helpful English speaking man called Abdullah, took us under his wing. We showed him a card for a hotel (which the tailor back in Damascus had given us) and he told us it was a good option. He took us to the hotel – the Al Ghawaher and it was indeed very nice and spotlessly clean. We agreed to take a double room, next to a clean shared bathroom, for S£400 per night. The clean toilets were a blessing after the last two.

We sat and chatted and sipped tea with Abdullah for some time. It’s sometimes hard to believe that people in Syria can be so hospitable without wanting to sell you something or asking for baksheesh.

The owner of the hotel (who was sitting wearing a Manchester United shirt!) was also extremely friendly and we gave him some laundry before having a hot shower and a complete change of clothes – out first for what seemed ages.

In the evening we ventured along to the Baron Hotel. It’s a rustic old place – decaying, yet colonial. This is the place where Lawrence of Arabia & other famous people used to stay. It felt like it hadn’t changed much over the years. We enjoyed a couple of cold imported beers and the comfort of soft chairs before eating in a nearby restaurant – the usual meat, bread and mezza fare.

Aleppo (also known as Halab) has been a flourishing city since the 3^rd century B.C –mainly due to its strategic position, enabling trade between Mesopotamia, and Egypt. Nowadays it has quite a cosmopolitan feel to it. There are lots of people from the ex USSR in Aleppo, especially Armenians. There are many signs in the Cyrillic script.
Today we wandered around the souqs, which are one of the main attractions of Aleppo. The huge vaulted market is a maze of all kinds of stalls. Merchants sell everything and the sights and smells are a real experience. There is the copper, brass, gold, cotton, household goods, spices and foodstuffs, meat stalls, complete with lambs heads (and other parts!), and so many other things. You could just about find anything. Within the souqs are mosques and Khans – the places where merchants from various parts of the world, would gather. Donkeys are used to move things around – although the occasional mini-van would try to negotiate the narrow lanes.

After we wandered through the souq we walked up to the Citadel – an impressive castle overlooking the town. We were going to enter, but it was closing in half an hour, so instead we sat in a café and took in the views.

In the evening we returned to the Baron hotel for a few more beers and bumped into the Dutch couple.

We also made phone calls from the post office. You give an operator the number you want to dial and your passport and when he connects you; you go to one of the booths and pick up the phone. I estimated it cost S£120 per minute. We are Falafel from a busy stall on the street and wandered back to our hotel for a sit on the balcony. It was quite a balmy evening.

 When Nick phoned Sam she mentioned the fact that we had slept on the roof on our first night. He hadn’t told her this and was interested to know how she found out. Apparently:

I told Dahbo. She told my Mum, My Mum told my Brother. My Brother bumped into Nick’s Brother (Tim) in the pub (by chance as Tim, Nick’s brother lives in London and had popped up for a weekend), Tim told his Mum, who then phoned Sam and told her.

We started fairly early this morning with a breakfast of fresh unleavened bread and some "Laughing Cow" cream cheese. We decided to re-visit the souq for a proper look around, as yesterday we had just wandered through fairly quickly. We took out time, looked at a few things, drank gallons of tea and haggled over various items.

The merchants in the souq are all quite friendly. Obviously their main aim is to make some money out of you, but even when you don’t buy anything they weren’t too bothered. We got offers to change-money all the time and to drink tea or coffee, and we even saw some gay men who proclaimed to be "members of the Oscar Wilde appreciation society"!! They were very camp, quite funny and even offered us a superb exchange rate! The evening before, Matthaus had told us about these guys and one of them offered to meet him later and buy him dinner and have a good time… "Only kissing" (apparently)!

It seems like homosexuality is quite open (and popular) in Aleppo –more so than anywhere else.

It’s quite common to see men holding hands and greeting each other with kissed, but this just seems to be the Arabic way – not to be mistaken as any kind of gay thing.

I couldn’t quite suss out the kissing-greeting system between men. It appeared that friends would give each other one kiss on each cheek, good friends would probably do two on each cheek & really good friends or family could kiss each others cheeks for a minute or so!!

We spent most of the day wandering around the souq and then (yet again) went to the Baron for a nice cold beer and the luxury of those battered but, blissfully comfortable chairs. We got talking to an Austrian woman who was really nice (and spoke pretty good Arabic) and we ended up having quite a session – staggering out of the Baron after midnight. We grabbed a Falafel before staggering back to the hotel, not before agreeing to meet her at 7:00 in the morning to go to St Simeon and the surrounding areas. We noticed a vehicle going around the streets spraying them with some kind of chemical. Maybe it was a insecticide ?

 21^st October 1998

I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday, and although last nights drinking session seemed to make me feel better, my bowels "exploded" at about 2:00 a.m. and I spent most of the night shitting soup! (Sorry for the detail, but I had to share it !)

I decided to stay in the hotel and "ride it out", so Nick kindly bought me plenty of water and some fruit and set off on his day out with Susan, the Austrian. I spent all day shitting and sleeping and developed a bit of a fever.

Nick returned late in the afternoon, knackered, but with good reports. We chatted for a while and then he went out for dinner (and no doubt a beer at the Baron!). I was starting to feel a little better.

I felt better in the morning, so we decided to leave Aleppo and get a bus to Hama. It took about two hours and cost something like S£80 each on a fairly nice bus. The bus station in Aleppo was pretty near to town and we walked it in ten minutes.

We checked into the Cairo Hotel, which is spotlessly clean and very welcoming. It was S£300 each per night, but the room was quiet, had a private shower and even a TV. The owner, Bader, was extremely friendly and we spent most of the afternoon chatting. He even cooked me up some "plain" food to help my stomach get back to normal – plain rice and Maggi soup. It went down a treat. I Still had the shits but my energy was returning.

Hama is a very pleasant town and is quite modern. The reason why it feels so "new" is because most of it was destroyed in 1986 when the Syrian army came in to quash an uprising – I think 20,000 people were killed. Apparently the government rebuilt it as a sort of apology. No one really talks about it.

The Orontes River runs through Hama and there are many large waterwheels – called Norias dotted about. Some of them are very impressive and are lit up at night.

In the evening we went to a new restaurant called the Dreamhouse, near to the Citadel. It was really pleasant with a wide variety of foods. Even though I was still feeling fairly sickly, I managed a plate of chicken nuggets and chips. We got a bit lost on the way back but found the hotel eventually.

Got up early and took a taxi tour, as arranged by the Cairo Hotel, to see some selected sights. Accompanying Nick and I was an Indian called Vinay and an older French bloke. The taxi was a big comfortable Mercedes, and the driver, Abdul, was very pleasant.

The landscape around Hama is very different from what we had seen so far. Fertile valleys and mountains replaced the arid desert.

Our first stop was Qala’at Sheisar. It’s a ruined castled on a high plateau and didn’t seem to be a place many people visited. It was fairly interesting. Next we headed north to Apamea. I had never heard of this place before and probably wouldn’t have chosen to visit it, but I was pleased that we did. It’s another ruined Roman city, very similar to Palmyra, but in a setting of thorn bushes on top of a hill. The main colonnade is almost 2km long and made for good walking. It was also relatively peaceful and to be honest, I think it was s bit more interesting than Palmyra. Maybe not set in such a spectacular location, but for sheer size and the amount of columns still standing. There is also a mosaic museum at Apamea, which houses many complete mosaics.

We drove on into the mountains and stopped off at a small Crusader castle called Muysaf in the middle of a quiet village. This place was dead, except for two local men who spoke French. They guided us around and we explored the tunnels and battlements for a while. We saw a snake hiding down a pit and the two guides got quite excited. Almost immediately another man appeared with a brick and a broom (his snake weapons), but the snake had disappeared. Apparently it’s a deadly snake. Nick and I made sure we had our torches on when visiting the rest of the "dark" bits.

The next stage of the journey took us on a narrow winding road through the mountains towards Lebanon. Along the way were many small villages, which had a much more liberal and almost Mediterranean feel about them. It felt a long way from the Islamic city of Deir ez Zur.

We eventually reach the Crac de Chevaliers (Knights Castle), perched on a hill, commanding a superb position through the mountains.

It was originally built by the crusaders in about 1150 and was eventually taken by Sultan Baibars in 1271, where he made a few modifications, but kept it pretty much the same.. This castle is huge and surprisingly well preserved. For the S£300 entry fee you could just about wander anywhere. I think we must have spent about three hours wandering around the passageways, exploring the dungeons and clambering around the battlements. Again, the real beauty of the Crac is that it is virtually untouched - no signs or artificial lighting – it’s just a matter of getting lost within the labyrinth of passages. Although it is busy (by Syrian standards) it is a fantastic place to visit.

We finally got back to the Cairo Hotel at around 6:00 p.m. Nick was feeling pretty rough, so we opted for some of Bader’s special "food for the ill". He cooked us up some boiled potatoes and yoghurt, which was very nice, although it didn’t last very long in Nick’s stomach!

I spent a fairly lazy day in Hama today. I wandered around the town in the morning and got some passport photos done (for visas, etc). I actually tried to extend my Syrian visa, but the official shunned me, telling me to go away and wait until the final day of my current visa. Twat!

I handed in some laundry and Nick and I went up to the Dreamhouse for lunch. He is still ill, so taking it easy for a day or two is the best thing to do.

In the evening Nick decided to stay in and rest, so I went out with Vinay and an Italian named Vittorio. We went to a place called the Family Club, as recommended by someone in the hotel, and had a beautiful Palestinian dish – a sort of stewed steak meal. Although it was very tasty and the portions were OK we were stunned when asked to pay S£375 each for it. Robbery. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, so just paid and left. On the way back we stopped for shay and at place by the river and took in the cool evening air. The Norias (waterwheels) where all lit up. It was quite an entertaining evening on the whole. Vittorrio talks non-stop & Vinay the Indian disagrees with everything he says. This made for great entertainment!

We left Hama at midday and took another luxury bus to Damascus. We headed back to the Al Harman hotel (where we stayed before). It felt quite good to be back and the lads who worked there seemed happy to see us again and soon sorted us a room out.

For lunch we bought some fresh bread and cheese and just sat around in the hotel for a while – reading and chatting. In the evening we decided to try a pizza. Syria doesn’t have western food places, such as Pizza Hut, so we tried the local alternatives. One place called "Pizza Hot" was full, so we tried "Pizza Roma" instead. It was actually very nice and good value.

Damascus appeared cleaner than the first time we arrived. Maybe it is, or maybe it just felt like it after visiting some much dirtier places?

Got up early and headed to the immigration office to extend our visas (it’s our last legal day in Syria so we have to do something). The first place we tried was closed until 9:00, so we had breakfast in a nearby café. When we returned we eventually found a visa extension room, but the official just wrote down an address and told us to go to the "central" immigration office, as they could not do it there.

It took about 10 minutes walk to get to the "central" office – which was big and extremely busy – complete pandemonium.

After searching for a while, we found the correct room for visa extensions, and paid an official S£25 in return for a form. The form was in French and we had to get the help of an Arabic girl (who studied French) to help us fill it out! We then had to go outside to a small stall and buy three more forms (also in French and almost identical to the one we just filled out) and a revenue stamp – S£12. We filled these out & attached the stamp to the main form and returned back to the office we started in.

We eventually got the attention of one of the grim faced, chain-smoking officials, who took our forms, and three passport photo’s, and looked them over. He then scribbled some stuff in Arabic and told us to go to the General’s office.

We found this, on the top floor, and after waiting in line for a while, we were told to go in – one at a time. The General’s office was a large room, piled full of books and paperwork, complete with a fat bloke in a uniform (presumably the General). He took the papers, had a quick glance at my face, and signed them off with a simple squiggle!

We headed back to the original office, where they took the papers & our passports and told us to come back at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Phew! What a run-around, just to extend our visa by a few days. An interesting experience none-the-less.

After an hour or so spent in immigration, I bought a phonecard and phoned Dahbo. I got five minutes for S£500, which was pretty good value, although the phoneboxes are very busy and plonked right outside a mosque. As expected, call to prayer started half way through my conversation!

In the afternoon we went to the National Museum. It was very good and I think worth visiting towards the end of our visit to Syria, rather than before. It allowed us to piece a few things together. The rebuilt Synagogue from Dura Europos and the tombs from Palmyra were excellent. Unfortunately there were not many signs explaining the exhibits, and when there were, many were not in English.

We returned to the hotel for bread and cheese and kicked back for most of the afternoon. In the evening we returned to Pizza Roma for more pizza. Nick is still quite fragile so we are taking it easy.

We both had a lie in and then walked up to the immigration office. We got our passports back without fuss and have a two weeks extension.

We decided to wander up to the British Council as we heard they had recent English newspapers and our desire for some home news was growing. The district of Damascus where the embassies are located, is quite posh and made for an interesting stroll. Quite different from the old Damascus or the hustle-bustle of the central area. Unfortunately the British Council was only equipped with newspapers which were over two weeks old.

We then took a huge walk around Damascus, stopping off at the National Library (although they wouldn’t let us in) and a few other places. We heard that they had Internet Access. Maybe they did, but access, for us, was denied.

After our long walk we were pretty pooped, so we returned to the hotel and spent the afternoon chatting to two English lads. One is from Bristol, and is quite pleasant, the other, is from Halifax, and although he is also quite nice, he is really weird and seems intent on just getting pissed every day! In the evening we went to the Damascus Workers Club and had another feast and some beers, and some fun with the head waiter – a Kurdish bloke who was trying to charge us for using ketchup and tissues.

This morning we got our visas from the Jordanian embassy. They cost us S£900 each, which I understand will be cheaper than buying at the border (and less hassle I should imagine). We met up with Vinay, the Indian guy, and enjoyed some excellent Cappuccino and Croissants at a little coffee shop.

In the afternoon I met up with Carbano, a Spanish guy we knew from earlier, and together with Vinay we went to the Souq. Carbano was looking for rugs and we spent hours looking in various shops. In the end It felt like we have looked at every rug in Damascus. He just couldn’t make his mind up, but after gallons of tea and plenty of light-hearted bargaining, he eventually made a purchase. We had a couple of beers at the Karnak bar to celebrate – a strange little place with lots of different types of people, all enjoying an "illicit" beer!

In the evening we sat and chatted and ate a brilliant Shawarma from a nearby stall.

We got up early, packed and checked out. We walked to a local Microbus station and attempted to find a transport to Bosra. It was very busy and impossible to tell which bus was going where as everything is in Arabic. The first man I asked shuffled us onto a big old bus, which took us to another bus station. The driver wouldn’t let us pay him anything and just kept on saying "Welcome"!

At this next station we got onto a Microbus (15 people max – give or take 5 or 6) to Der’a which took about one hour. It was very windy and we experienced some wicked sandstorms.

At Der’a we befriended a Swedish girl and a nice elderly Syrian woman (and her simple male accomplice – maybe her son), who gave us some sweet bread sticks and helped us to find a bus to Bosra as she was heading the same way.

Microbuses are a great way to travel as they are fast and frequent, but not if you have luggage as we did, as there is no room at all. You sometimes end up paying for the space your bags occupy, as we soon found out. Still – it was very cheap and relatively comfortable.

Bosra was quiet, almost deserted. The Roman amphitheatre, which is free standing, and once had a capacity of 19,000 people, is quite unique and apparently the best preserved in the world. As it was very quiet it made the visit even more worthwhile, as we had this huge, unique place almost all to ourselves.

The rest of Bosra is ruined (literally). We were getting pretty "ruined out", but still enjoyed a wander around and even paid a man some baksheesh to open up and show us around some Roman baths. I’m glad we took the diversion on our way to Jordan, as Bosra was a special place.

After spending some time at Bosra, we jumped onto another Microbus back to Der’a and then arranged for a taxi to take us over the border into Jordan. The price he asked was far too high, but we bargained him down to S£100 each – providing we "smuggled" a carton of cigarettes into Jordan for him! Apparently the driver makes a good living "smuggling" cheap Syrian cigarettes into Jordan and bringing "quality" toilet paper and tissue from Jordan into Syria! Wait until the Mafia hears about that one!

The car was a real old wreck and we had to push start it every time we stopped. We shared our passage with two Syrian men and a young boy. We passed through Syrian immigration very easily, but got held up a little by the other passengers having their usual border problems. It also seemed like they were having trouble with the kid, who had promptly shat himself at the border! What a stench.

I think it took us about 1.5 hours in total to pass all the way through both border controls and it would have been very quick if we’d have been on our own – they didn’t even check our bags.

When the taxi dropped us off at Ramtha in Jordan, we haggled for a bit with taxis, until we decided to get another minibus to a town called Irbid. There we changed to a big bus to Amman, which we reached after about two hours. Once we arrived in Amman (which appeared to be a huge city), we got a taxi (on the meter without even asking!) to the Cliff Hotel.

So, Two Minibuses, Two Microbuses, Two big buses and Two taxis since leaving Damascus we arrived in the capital of Jordan – Amman. !

I don’t know why we chose the Cliff Hotel, but it was late and it was the only name we could remember. It was OK and cost JD4 per night (1JD is about £1UK – or there about) per person, for a small room with a shared bathroom.

We went out pretty much straight away to a local restaurant and had undoubtedly the best food and beer we’ve sample in nearly three weeks! Kebabs, Lamb cutlets, hot bread, mezza and large, cold, tasty Amstel beers. - Heaven !

We ate with a Jordanian guy, called Kaz, who works at the Cliff Hotel. He thinks he’s a real stud, but is pleasant enough. Carbano, the Spanish guy also joined us, along with two Mexican / Americans (father and son). We had a really good laugh and there was a great atmosphere in there.

Old Tracker     New Tracker