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November 30 Day 9 and 10, Dahab & Egypt. Journeys endArriving at the port of Aquaba on the Jordanian coast is like arriving in chaos. The ticket hall which seemed to be for a single company had three possible places to get tickets including the boat office itself. After waiting for about 10 minutes we are pointed from the boat office to a third party seller with a mass of people surrounding the desk waving passports. We get to that desk and we can buy tickets but have to pay an additional charge. Back to the main boat office and nobody wants to help. 8 people sit in the office behind their computers doing their best to ignor the situation. After a while of neglect and worry that our ferry is not far off departing (our guide book says 10.30, it is 10 now) I walk round the side and into the ticket office much to the surprise of the people inside. After a discussion in broken english I am pointed to the managers office down the hall. Entering the room is like entering a gangsters den, the room is coated in a haze of smoke with a large desk at the head of the room and then sofas down the side where the henchmen sat. The gangster boss behind the desk says something after me complaining nobody will help. I get waved from the room and we get served and get our tickets, hurah, turns out the boat is at 1pm. To get the tickets stamped comes a complicate procedure of paying via a bank desk, returning to the main desk, getting an exit visa stamped downstaires and then back upstaires to get our customs stamp. Its like some over engineered beuaracracy designed to give people something to do, probably invented by the British to improve queuing.
With our tickets we sit outside and wait for the bus to take us onto the bus, our seat on the roadsid collecting a growing number of foreigners who have been through the same process, 2 Koreans and 3 Alaskans making their way back to Egypt after visiting Petra. (Heather, her mum and friend). While chatting our bus departs without any of us and parks behind a gate. Once on the boat things are fairly relaxed, we get a seat to be joined by the Koreans, we order some food, we help the koreans order food by drawing the menu to them, we eat we take an age to get our change from the food to the point of beating up the waiter, we dock, we wait about 3 years to get off, possibly longer than the journey.
Upon disembarking we go through customs, carts line the queue with peoples whole lives present in them, sofas, televisions, everything. There is no real order or idea on where to go so we just randomly follow a path, exiting the customs area it seems that we missed paying entry tax which I can't complain about, bit worried they wont let us out but who cares, we have made it to Egypt. We really had no idea of whethher we could get the boat and get accross so to be here was great. Now to Sharm, no Dahab! We make a snap decision again after reading the Alaskans guide book and Dahab looks nice, they have what sounds a great place to stay so off we go, Koreans and all. The journey is pretty easy, we spend most of it trying to confirm where the Koreans want to go, Dahab or Taba which is much furrther north in the opposite direction. We get to Dahab and the Koreans direct us to the hotel, seems they knew where they were going but were worried we were going to Taba, they even come and make sure we check into the Penguin hotel ok.
We get the last room and one of the most expensive at £20 a night. For that we get to see the sunrise from our beds with stunning views over the Red Sea. This is perfect and a great place to chill before the journey home. We chill in the bar next to the waters edge supping beers and eating food, chatting with the Alaskans. They are here for a few weeks. I really could do with a holiday after the last 9 days adventure, which has been brilliant but in places tiring! The next morning we are greated to the sun rising over the sea. We chill on the balcony area above the bar catching up on our suntans and generally chilling. We have a taxi to the airport so no worry on the journey home. Pretty perfect end really. Dahab is one of those resorts that has lots to do but is much more chilled and laidback than its bigger brother Sharm.
With the day drawing to a close we hit the taxi and head fo the airport. As is customary with the taxis here the driver stops off for food, then goes and gets petrol then has a chat with his mates, then takes us where we want to go. Bloody annoying but as long as we get to the airport. In fact him being slow about it probably means we missed the huge crash at the airport where it looks like two buses collided head on. The aftermath looks bad with a bus embedded in the wall. Considering there is very little traffic this is pretty impressive. Our flight home is long and strangely for an easyjet flight you get movies. A hangup from the days when it was a the BA owned GB airways. Think the staff are a bit pissed to be easyJet now.
Back home at midnight with work tomorrow, whats the next adventure going to be.
November 29 The desert of Wadi RumArriving at the desert was full of expectation and fear that the trip we had booked would turn out crap and just a souless trip with a whole bunch of other tourists. We met our organiser Ahemd who explained the trip would take in a number of rock bridges, Lawrence of Arabia haunts and desert sands followed by an overnight camp at his camp located in the heart of Wadi Rum. All looking good as we boarded our clapped out Japanese jeep with our non-English speaking guide and Algerian girl, Nacima. We headed out to our first location of Lawerences spring and start to get an idea of the scale of desert and isolated expanse of sand with towering mountains providing markers as to where you were. We then headed to a narrow gorge called Jebel Khazali and then to the first rock bridge, a raised sandstone mount with rock bridge linking the two mounts. Bit of scrambling to get there but nothing too challenging. Further into the desert we stop for tea and our guide points out the rock bridge in the mountains of Wadak. Really want to get up there so while the others have tea I head off on the climb alone. Quickly realising that I may never be found again I take a breather and just admire the desert expanse from my lofty perch. I wish I had carried on the climb but might might have been lost for several days with no water! Bit more driving and then dinner in the desert consisting of cans of spam and bread bought earlier in the day. Try to walk out into the desert to the next mountain but you really dont get a sense of distance and it turns into a long walk. Our guide comes and picks us up and we head off to the sandy dunes and another stop. As the day ends we watch the sunset behind a mountain face, a jeep driving accross the expanse firing sand dust into the dusk sky. We arrive at the camp and meet up with a few more people, 2 belgian twins, and a french ski rescuer with his family.
The camp is two tents pitched against the rock face, with a small toilet block and outhouse for cooking in. Power comes in the form of a generator and wayer from a small tank. Its all very basic but the desert sky and the expanse of stars and the dust clouds of the milky way just take your breath away. As we watch the stars Ahmed comes up to us with a proposition. He had been talking to the belgian girls (well sleeping with one of them! I think) and had found out paul developed websites. He offers us a deal, two nights of food and free lodging in return for updating his web site. Its a done deal with a moments pause.
We awake the next day at dawn as the rest of the camp packs up and leaves. Its just me and Paul and the desert for a few hours. Pretty cool. Ahmed returns and takes us out south into the desert towards the saudi border. A short hike and climb gives us stunning views of a dry river bed snaking through the desert to Saudi Arabia. There is not a sound out there, incredibly strange not to be able to hear anything. After a rest we head back taking it in turns to drive through the desert. We pause seeing a bedouin hearding his goats and after determining it to be a man alone and not a female we approach for tea (keeping count on the tea breaks?)! We can't undertsand him but turns out that this incredibly simple life has its trauma's. Not only having to protect the goats from wolves (must remember to keep watch that night!) but he also has issues with his wife, yes even in the desert!
We drive into the small town and stopping briefly at a shop with a row of caged chickens we drive on to Ahmeds cousins house to meet the rest of the family, plus the two camels in the garden! We sit in his cousins house and as his cousin enters we break with tradition and just sit there! We should have stood up but I didn't realise till Paul pointed out our error later that day. We leave his cousins after more tea, stopping at the shop with the chickens, turns out one is now missing and I am handed a bag of very fresh chicken! Guess that is dinner then! We head back to the camp for the final night for chicken over a barbeque with more tea and rice. Ahmed settles down to his open university course work and we talk about politics and how Obama will be dead within in the year. can't escape American politics even in the desert. We settle down under the stars to our final night in the desert, all pretty amazing. Tomorrow starts our final journey leg to Egypt and then the flight home!
November 22 Petra Day 2Awoken to the call to prayer, no idea what time it is but it is getting light and we are due to see Petra by dawn. Getting into the shower water starts to flood the bathroom, rising up through the floor grate and spilling over into the main bedroom. One thing to note about the room is it wasn't very safe. The tv lead which ran past the bathroom was exposed and the leads into the socket from the TV where actually wires just stuck in. The water poored over the exposed wire, so i went down to complain. Downstaires Paul was tucking into breakfast, standard affair of boiled egg and flat bread with jam and butter. Bloke comes upstaires from his kitchen duties to fix the shower. Lifting the bathroom grate he pulls out a load of crap (probably was real crap!) and dumps it on the bathroom floor. Checking that the water goes down, he turns to leave. I kindly point to the pile of crap and he comes back with a cloth to clean it up. This is the same cloth he had been using in the kitchen. Time to leave. After a brief arguement over hygeine we are wandering towards our next hotel the Sunshine hotel.
Turns out this is all fairly early as for the second time on the holiday we fail to realise the clocks have changed again! Still time to check in to our new hotel and get there for sunrise. Walking down the gorge once more it is pretty empty. We pass the Treasury and head into the main town and then ready ourselves for a hour hike up one of the mountains to the Monestary and one of the other sights of Petra! We are pretty much the first people there, passing enroute the local Bedouin setting up their stalls for the day. Its amazing to think that their forfathers protected this place from discovery till 1812 when Johann Ludwig Burckhardt disguised as a pilgrim found the site. Must have been a stunning discovery at the time and even today they reckon that only 5% of the city has been found. Its all pretty amazing as are the views that great us as we hit the summit of our climb. The Monestary wedged into the rock face and then stunning views over the desert up to a mountain where Moses brother is apparently buried. A few Bedouin have tents here and awake to this view daily, Incredible!
Back down the mountain we skirt the main town and head for another climb up to the sacrifical alter and more stunning views. It is more off the beaten track and fewer tourists line the way. As we descend from the alter we bump in an English girl selling at one of the stalls and stop to chat. Rita it turns out is a girl on her travels who has met a girl called Hanan and decided to help her sell stuff. Rita is your typical idealic, everything is great traveller with no money bartering to survive. I am guessing back home she is the daughter of a rich family out trying to slum it. Its all a bit odd. Anyway we get told of a number of different routes out of the city and with sun setting we decide to head back. Now trying a new route with the sun setting is not the best idea, especially an incredibly narrow gorge prone to flooding (no rain though) but also one that nobody else thought it was a good idea to leave down. With the sun rapidly setting we hit a problem, the gorge forks and it is not clear which way to go. Choosing a route we reach what we think is the tunnel described in the book. This one is incredibly narrow with spiders webs and a pin prick of light in the distance. very indianna jones and not exactly the right route. After a while we turn back and take the other route. Shortly we hit a much bigger tunnel, no webs and a tunnel that visibly ends! Out of the park we end the day with more beers and a booking for Wadi Rum and our desert adventure.
PetraTo Petra day 6 Breakfast started hidden from the German bloke. I think he was heading towards Petra so we had to avoid him at all costs. Out of the building we had escaped and feeling confident I tried haggaling with a cabbie who was not amused and promptly took us to the wrong bus station. after some confusion it was into another cab and to the right bus station where the tourist police (yes, they ensure you dont get ripped off) ensured we got onn the right bus. It was not long before we were on our way to Petra. stopping soon after for coffee and to ensure the tyres on the bus werent flat. i am glad that i didnt take up the coffee which from Pauls face and how it looked was probably heated soil and water. We got to Petra and to avoid the touts got out of the bus before tthe station with some locals. We wandered down towards the main entrance and surprisingly made a quick decision on the hotel, The Moon Valley Hotel fronted by a Jordanian John Hurt. After quickly establishing this was a room to sleep in only we headed off to the ancient city of Petra. Its a stunning journey to the Treasury through a narrow gorge with hand carved water courses taking water alongside the route into the city. Old carvings pepper the gorge and after a 1km walk you turn the corner to the site that greated indianna jones in the last crusade (really shhould have been his last adventure too), a huge building carved into the rock with massive pillars towering up the rock face much like the front of a greek temple, the sun reflecting off the red rock. Its an incredible site but is only the start of the city. Protected from the weather it has stood the test of time but other similar buildings have not been as fortunate. As you walk further into the town more similar building tower into the rock face. The royal tombs being the most impressive. With daylight fading and the city to see again by night we head back for food. Dropping stuff off at the hotel we wander into the town and find a place to eat just in time to see next door go up in smoke as the smoke that was rising out of the chimney caught fire. Cue everyone on their way to prayer cancelling their chat with god in favour of viewing the building going up in smoke. After finally eating some food we head down for the city walk by night. Hundreds of candels line the gorge as we walk down to the treasury, getting there we sit in lines in silence admiring the the building by candle and moonlight. We drink tea while listening to local music and taking in the stars that mass around the the gorge roof. Heading back last we get to enjoy the gorge by ourselves reaching the the town for a quick beer before bed. Middle Eastern Adventure Prt 2Day 5 Damascus to Jordan
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Just saying that in one day we did Damascus and travelled to Jordan sounds a bit crazy but like this blog we were in a dash to Jordan trying to see as much as possible with our small 10 day window. At the start of the day the plan was to head to Bosra in southern Syria for a night and then into Jordan but like everything our plans changed pretty much at the bus station. Anyway the day started with breakfast at our amazing hotel with food from the local bakery near to the hotel and a place I had eye checked the day before serving huge croissants to a queue a mile long. After eating it was out into Damascus by day which is every bit as amazing as by night,a bustling city with a huge history. We went first round the Christian quarter down Straight Street in the footsteps of St Paul to the Church of Ananias, basically following in the footsteps of the bible (feel another trip coming on)
'Now there was a disciple at Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, "Ananias." And he said, "Here I am, Lord." And the Lord said to him, "Rise and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul, for behold, he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight."
But Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem. And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on your name." But the Lord said to him, "Go, for he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel. For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name." So Ananias departed and entered the house. And laying his hands on him he said, "Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on the road by which you came has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit." And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and he regained his sight. Then he rose and was baptized; and taking food, he was strengthened. Saul spent several days with the disciples in Damascus.' After the Christian quarter came the souks of the Muslim area, the stunning Mosque with the sun reflecting of the glistening marble. We wandered back through the markets to visit Amelia and her mum at the British Consulates flat (still not sure of the title of the person we didn't meet). The house was like our hotel with stunning courtyard with retractable roof and then rooms off the courtyard and two floors with a roof top terrace that had views over the surrounding mountains. The kitchen having a roman font as the sink! After more tea (tea count starts to rapidly increase as we head into Jordan) we depart to get our bags and it is back to the bus station for our bus to Bosra. Upon arriving we find our bus is not for another few hours and in an incredible 2 mins we now have bus tickets to Amman and Jordan! Quick chat with a lovely girl from Lebennon at the ticket office (well Paul did, she couldn't undertsand me although she did intially mistake me for being Syrian and not be able to undertsand me might just have been her recovering from shock).
The bus journey south started with us nearly forgetting to get exit Visa's at a local shop where the bus stopped, still not sure whether we needed these and didnt even pay the right money but involved a mad dash from the bus. We met a Japanese girl and a mad german bloke, possibly the dullest man in the world who became Paul's dinner friend at our next hotel. At the border came the standard 5 checkpoint stop, with us running out of money it was looking likely that we'd be stuck between the two borders but for the star lighting the way to a nearby cashpoint and salvation. Over the border we were into Jordan and a new country to explore. Syria was an incredible place and I would love to explore more of it sometime. Only once did it feel like the American press makes it out to be but thats only because they bombed the place that day, idiots. The rest of the time everyone was incredibly helpful and friendly.
Jordan started with Amman and a hotel 100m away from the bus station, it was late and we just wanted somewhere to stay. Following the germans advice rather than the cool Japanese girl we ended up in a hotel that was stupidly expensive and a bit crap compared to the night before. I hit the computer to try and find some hotels in Petra while paul got food. I returned to find Paul in tears after spending dinner with the German guy. He was defintiely dull and also aiming at getting Paul killed through very loud conversations on how Islam was dying out and the west had won.
Tomorrow is Petra!
November 05 Middle East AdventureWell, i'm back and in one piece just. in 10 days myself and Paul travelled from Istanbul in northern Turkey down to Sharm El Sheikh in Egypt. Everyday was a new adventure whether it be living it up with Bedouins in Wadi Rum to fearing for our lives on a journey through Syria towards Iraq. Along the way we met some interesting people, similar people on journeys of their own, friends of the British consulate, a Bedouin goat herder and a group a singing Syrian polo player. All made the journey an adventure. I dont think we stuck to the plan at all in the end it went something like this,
Day 1, Trip from Istanbul to Adana in southern Turkey
Day 2, Crossed the border by taxi in Syria and to Aleppo
Day 3, Trip to Palmyra by bus via Krak de Chavelliers
Day 4, Down to Damascus narrowly missing a goverment sponsored anti American parade
Day 5, Crossed the border into Jordan, stopping over in Amman
Day 6, Drive to Petra
Day 7, Second day in Petra
Day 8, Into the dersert and Wadi Rum camping under the stars
Day 9, Desert adventures driving 4wd round the desert
Day 10, Boat to Egypt and a night in Dahab chilling bythe Red Sea
Day 11, Flight home
Through all of this I managed to record the adventure through a series of notes with the hope of writing this up. Every second happened.... Every wrong step made a right one. At no point in this story were any trains taken. Originally it was all by train.
Day 1 Driving To Adana
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The plan was always to get a train, in fact even when we couldn't get the train due to engineering works on the line the plan was to get a train. So when we arrived in Istanbul we had no clue how we were going to get to Syria. The option was a 16 hr bus ride which was probably appealing as it sounds or as we decided in the terminal a 800km journey by car to Adana in southern Turkey where we could drop the car. After deciding on the most fuel inefficent car ever we hit the road in the rain on some of the most dangerous roads in Europe. I think Paul got the easy leg of the journey with only random lorry lane changing to contend with and lorries dropping big metal barrels into the road to dodge. We took the E89 to Ankara past mile after mile of newly built or being built flats, down past the salt lakes and into the mountains of southern Turkey. We reached the salt lakes at sunset, a small cafe just off the motorway was a tempting site with people walking out onto the salt flats silouetted against the sun as it set behind the mountain range. We would have stopped but for the road works that lined the road forcing us onto the wrong side of the motorway. You can see why the roads are dangerous with one sign to send you accross the road with no apparent warning to the cars on the other side. This car dodging continued into the mountains and down for what seemed like ages into the town of Adana.
With the journey complete, all that remained was to find a hotel and drop off the car. The night was spent at Airport hotel, not overly exciting but a needed break after a knackering 8 hour solid drive and 4 hour flight.
Day 2 Taxi To Aleppo
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With a good nights sleep we take the car back to the Hertz rental place. This would have been easy if we realised one important thing, not entirely sure what time we got to the car rental but we were pretty pissed to find nobody home. We had a deadline and a bus to get, que frantic phone calls to every Hertz dealer in town but no luck, eventually realising that we should use the help number in big bold letters on the rental document. A quick call reveals the clocks had changed the night before and we had got up a bit early.
With the car dropped we headed to the bus station on foot, this was the first of many bus adventures. The plan was to catch a bus to Antakyia on the Syrian border. An historic town once a trading center but after the second world war was passed from Syria to turkey and it passed into obscurity. A run down border town in the truest sense we were helped by the people we met on the bus. This was what I read about and hoped to experience, after getting over Paul convincing us both we were on the wrong bus, we settled in to the 2 hour journey. I think the locals were surprised to find us on the bus and were soon trying to chat with us. Our language skills were rubbish but luckily a woman who had never been further than Adana spoke ok English (shame on us) and so started the standard bus conversation of who we were, where we were from and where we were going to. The lady behind shared some of her fruit with me and the English speaking girl with her boyfriend shared their nuts. Following this tradition i introduced them to the traditional English Chewit, not a bad exchange I thought.
Upon arriving at Antakyia, they help us arrange a bus to the taxi station to get us to the Syrian border, getting a good rate and ensuring we had an idea of how much to pay for the taxi. The taxi was a beat up car with cracked windscreen and no seatbelts. Paying above the going rate we start the journey towards Syria and one of the American stated axis of evil. The site of a car in a skip and the smashed up cars enroute gave us a taster for the journey ahead. 1o minutes in the driver gets a call and turns around heading back to pick up a new recruit to the journey, a polo playing, singing Syrian who we determined from our arabic phrase book was either a teacher at the beach or self proclaimed Syrian wideboy (actually we guessed that from looking at him). One thing about the phrase book that we quickly gathered was that nobody could understand us and in most cases took the book off us to find their own English phrases to speak to us with.
The border loomed in the bleakness of the landscape with watch towers lining the initial border crossing point from Turkey. The Turkey exit into no mans land was relatively easy but then came the entry to Syria which consisted of an ellaborate series of checkpoints where we were required to present our passport several times, even when I thought we were through we were still in no mans land. Possibly no the best place to light up the darkened skies with a camera flash. Luckily we were inbetween watch towers. The final checkpoint was odd in that gone were the military uniforms to be replaced by what seemed to be a number of locals with machine guns. With the border disappearing the polo player broke back into song, yippe.
The taxi driver dropped us at the rain soaked taxi rank in the center of Aleppo. The hotel was the only one we pre-booked and was like stepping back 50 years in time. The Barons hotel has played home to Agatha Christie who lived there for 12 years, T.E Lawerence, and several American presidents. The atmosphere evoked the old days of colonialism with various ex-pats drinking in the aging bar. It used to open out into the wilderness but now into the wilds of downtown Aleppo. We are offered a new room or the room of T E Lawerence, the choice is straight forward.
We grab a beer in the hotel bar before heading out for food. Aleppo comes across as a conservative muslim town, not once did we see a female walking the streets, it was wall to wall men either tending their street shops or sitting eating together. Not sure where all the women had gone but with no women the only thing left to enjoy was food and football which we found in a roof top cafe. After food it was back to the bar for more drinks and a conversation with somee Belgian travellers who were celebrating their honeymoon by touring Syria and Jordan. We actually randomly met them again in the middle of the desert in Wadi rum in Jordan.
Day 3 South from Aleppo
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With a good night under our belts we wake to explore the souks of Aleppo. Utterly amazing, with a 500 meter medeval covered market, with various stalls displaying hanging fresh meet and doors opening into massive Turkish bath houses. The smell of spices perfume the air as we walk through up to the citadel, emerging from the darkened souk the imposing citadel towers above with huge moat and fortified bridge. It is at this point I get acosted by a group of school kids after introducing themseleves to me and demanding a euro in exchange for a Syrian coin. Looking around Paul has scarpered and is taking photos from a safe distance, git. After palming them off with a Turkish coin its off back through the souk and onto our planned train ride south towards Damascus.
The train is at 10.30 and so with an hour to spare we head back to the hotel. The lady at the desk who I enquired with last night about times seems a bit worked up and say we are going to miss our train if we dont go now. she says it will take time to get tickets, so we head to the station by taxi. On route it dawns with paul that Syria didn't follow Turkey and the rest of Europe in its clock change. Getting to the station the train is already there. We dash to get a ticket only to find that English queuing isn't going to work with a mass of people clammering in front of us to get a ticket. We should have just got on the train but its too late as it pulls out of the station. We had missed our only train journey. A quick decision is made to get another bus, the next train is mid-afternoon and we can't afford to lose any time.
Another taxi to the bus station and then first bus to Hama and then a further bus (with a showing of an epic Syrian film of the stupid French colonials being overturned by the Arabs) to Homms. We should have taken time out to see the water wheels of Hama but with the lack of time was becoming apparent and priorities would have to be made. Getting to Homms we enlist a taxi driver in a sting of epic proportions. This guy meets us off the bus taking us to the bus to Krak De Chavelliers a medieval crusader fort. After a brief discussion it comes clear the bus is not going till 6 after the place closes. The guy offers to take us and then to drop us back for a 'small price'. With the day rapidly fading we agree and are taken to his taxi! stung! In hindsight it looks like he took us to a stand where he knew they were not going, chatted with his friends who helpfully told us wanted he wanted us to hear and then got us to use his taxi.
Another cracked windscreen and a taxi built in Iran and Syria modelled on what looks to be an underpowered lada. The long drive and massive asscent to the castle nearly destroys the car. The huge castle is hid under the clouds and it takes time for it to loom large before us. It is an impressive sight, wandering the still intact ramparts and rooms. Apparently it was never forcibly taken but was captured after the armies of Salindan convinced the crusaders via a faked letter from the Crusade leaders that no help was coming. They surrendered the castle. The taxi dude waits with our bags in the car for us. Theft is pretty much non-existent unless it is of money through bad negotiating. We climb back into the taxi and he takes us back to Homms for the scariest bus ride ever.
Arriving at the wrong bus station, not the big bus station but the local small bus service which basically departs when full we quickly find a bus heading towards Palmyra and then onwards north towards the Iraq border. There was room for about ten people and we were the last to board as we then set off into the night. I should have noticed but the mood on the bus changed a few miles in. I was trying to sleep to avoid a very odd conversation with the man next to me while Paul in the front was seemingly more and more uncomfortable. As the bus sped into the desert Paul turned to me looking a bit scared, 'dude, we are going to die!'. The man beside him was noticably agitated, not wanting to touch or look at Paul or myself unless giving us the stares of death. The conversation with the taxi driver earlier in Krak becomes clear, we said we were off to Palmyra and he spent a while explaining how the Americans had attacked or killed some Syrians near the border where we were going (this took about 30mins to try and get across in broken English and Arabic). Cue racing mind of capture, BBC news, swords, head, rolling. We pull into a service stop in the middle of the desert and get out to stretch our legs. The guy next to Paul gets out the van and walks off into the desert! The bus driver call everyone back and we race off into the desert. The mood on the bus changes and everyone starts talking and music starts to be played from the radio. All very strange and possibly the scariest moments of the trip. We get dropped off near Palmyra where another taxi guy is waiting to take us to a hotel in the town.
Food and a check of the internet confirms that Syria was attacked by special forces killing 8. A beer is needed and its back to the hotel where we exchange stories of the days events with some newly found friends in the bar, some of whom are also on their travels south towards Damascus. With an early sunrise start planned for the next day we hit the sack.
Day 4 - Palmyra sunrise to Damascus
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We awake to the blaring of the call to prayer, something that was to become a common theme in all places but Damascus. Breakfast would be after sunrise again each hotel sharing a common them of boiled egg, bread, jam and cheese slices; we head off into the dawn skies to the castle on the hill overlooking Palmyra. Impressive in itself illuminated in the night sky. We were pretty much the only ones there, joined by two guys who had done what we would have had we not been hijacked by the local taxi tour guide and walked up through the Roman town and ruins to the fort. Another two people joined us, Amelia and her mum Anne who were up from Damascus where they were staying with a releative who was part of the British consulate. As the sun started to rise we got chatting and by the time our taxi driver had got bored and handed over the reins to his mate, Anne and Amelias driver we were to spend some of the day with them. The sunrise was spectacular but only once we had got back in the taxi down the hill for breakfast. Kind of missed the point but was till pretty cool for a desert.
After breakfast, came our first glimpe of mass tourism as we headed off into the valley of the tombs. Huge monolithic buildings sometimes set over a few floors where people were buried in the pre-roman era. There when tens of these buildings and the main tomb was actually located under ground in a number of chambers. It would have been nicer except for the arrival of several tour buses, not to be seen again until Petra. As the sun rose we were dropped outside the Bell Sanctuary where we started our tour of Palmyra a huge Roman city which once saw much of the silk and trade from the east pass through it. In fact it took over from Petra which we would visit later in our tour.
There were few people in the town and we had it much to ourselves. After having to pay for the hotel in cash rather than on the card due to 'unforseen' problems with the credit card machine (or the fees are pretty high so we'll make you pay cash). As we walked round admiring the many columns that make up much of the remaining town we find that our lack of money is the ideal bargaining tool as I manage to get a camel ride down from 1000 syrian pounds to 200. Not bad really. With the sun getting up it starts to get warm for the first time on the holiday as we reach the end of the town and a climb up a building to get a clear view over the city. Paul turns for home to find water while i stay out to explore some more.
Heading back towards the town i pass an old arab man who beckons me into his oasis, no jokes here please. I thought he was showing me a way through the oasis back to the town but instead takes me on a tour of his garden and the various fruits within. I get some dates and sharron fruit and after a brief exchange of where we live, number of wives and children (i made it up as is easier than explaining that I dont). He points the way to the city and off I go down the winding narrow path that makes up the oasis. A small stream lines the way feeding each of the gardens. In each sit people relaxing in the coolness of the oasis, shaded from the hot sun. Back into the city I meet up with Paul supping a beer by the hotel and we find Amelia and Anne who are to share a bus to Damascus. At the bus station we meet Ian and Claire also heading towards Damascus on the same bus.
The road to Damascus was through open desert along the main highway to Iraq. Bagdhad cafes line the roadside and it is a shame we cant get a photo opportunity there, instead we watch the Italian Job enroute (cut to about an hours worth). There are very few vehicles on the road except for lorries or tankers, no local traffic and it seems that people are not easily allowed to travel or dont want to. Haven't checked this out but maybe there isn't much need to travel a few hours into the desert. Hitting Damascu bus station was the standard affair as we are surrounded by people looking to take us into town. A bit of bargaining and we head into the city with Anne and Amelia; Claire and Ian head off to a different part of town to find a hotel they had been looking at. We as usual had no plan and instead relied on the hotel Amelia and Anne stayed in when they arrived being available in the old town.
The taxi drops us on a bridge near the old town. We walk through the bussling streets and then down a side road into the heart of the old town and the christian quarter. You expect Damascus to be a scary place being the capital of a country with a reputation for support of terrorism but instead it is completely multi-cultural, very safe and friendly. Anne and Amelia point us in the direction of the hotel and leave us to our devices with the promise of tea at the consulate house the next day. We get to the hotel and find it incredible. I'd like to say we decided to stay there straight away but tired and with less cash than expected after the last few days we wander the streets in search of a cheaper place. With that place in our minds no other place came close so we head back to stay there. We had wandered much of the town in the process and had seen the souks, famous straight street and mosque. I go off to explore the city at night as Paul relaxes in the hotel. Knackered we hit our beds for the night.
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