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I do wish I’d done these updates before. Lots of the little details of the trip, which really make it come alive, have been forgotten and I am reduced to refreshing my memory by looking at the Lonely Planet, the photos and the map.
If Jordan was the Ealing of the Middle East, Syria was the Croydon. The chavvy clothing worn by the women was just what you would expect to see in any shopping centre in suburban Britain on a Saturday afternoon. Lovely people, excellent food but shit country (in terms of how it’s run, not the landscape).
Stopped to use up last of Jordanian phone credit between Jordan and Syrian borders, the Syrian one being some distance from the Jordanian. The reception abruptly cut out when we crested a small hill, so we made what turned out to be the mistake of backtracking to a point where we could get Jordanian reception. There we were, happily chatting away when the Syrian border guards came running down the slope towards us from their post, obviously thinking we had malign intentions. Usual language confusion followed, even though one of then did speak a bit of English, as we couldn’t explain we were NOT were up to no good but simply using up mobile credit while we were still in reception. Or maybe we did, but he just wasn’t interested and even accused us of having been to Israel.
The border crossing took a long time, with shambolic money-changing and customs/registration procedures. Why does a country that self-professedly hates the US so much have all its official transactions in USD? If you need hard currency – and I can see that you might – what’s wrong with Euros? Official offered us a shawarma. Tried to stay at border for the night and start the 14 day entry clearance the next morning, but asked for this too late and they’d already put the date in the paperwork. So left late and went to the first town, only to be advised ‘they don’t like foreigners very much here – better to go straight to Damascus’.
We arrived in Damascus quite late at night and by the time we got there this, coupled with me driving around and getting lost, conspired to put me in a bit of a bad mood and I nearly left again – I seem to go a bit mad when I’ve been driving or walking all day and something stops me from simply stopping for the night and going to sleep.
But soon recovered. Damascus has beautiful ‘stripy’ architecture (black basalt alternating with limestone) and good, gooey and stretchy ice cream, as well as other food. At the Abou Kamal restaurant, we were introduced to the Syrian speciality of ‘Fatta,’ a oven-baked dish of chickpeas, minced meat or chicken and bread soaked in Tahini. An Iraqi chap from Brighton, in Syria on holiday, bought some for us at the famous Bekdash restaurant. The pics of me with a red tongue are from the blackberry juice they sell. It’s delicious, esp when mixed with ground ice. At the Umayyad Mosque, also got talking to Eman Azzo, a Christian PE teacher from Suleymaniyah in northern Iraq taking a trip with her brother. Another lovely restaurant we went to – and Damascus and indeed the whole of Syria is good for this – was the Beit Jabri. Got the shocks fitted to the car by a Subaru fanatic – but Friday a bad day to do this. He even called me later to see how I was, although I had to stop in Palmyra to tighten up one of the fastenings.
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| Syria – Damascus |
After Damascus, we headed towards Palmyra, but via Malloula. Malloula is in the Christian part of Syria and we enjoyed our visit to the St Catherine’s-like monastery and Church.
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| Syria – Damascus to Palmyra via Malloula |
Any foreigner driving through Syria in a diesel car must pay a US$100 per week diesel tax – supposedly ‘to prevent pollution’. But, as this video shows, Syria might be better off getting its own house in order first before it starts penalising visitors.
Anyone who goes to Syria HAS to see Palmyra. Once dubbed the “Bride of the Desert,” Palmyra was a vital stop for caravans crossing the Syrian desert. Palmyra was mentioned in the Old Testament as being fortified by Solomon and it flourished in Roman times. I remember at sunset we’d made our way up to the Qala’at Ibn Maan high point to look across the superlative vista, then on the way back down came across the aftermath of a fatal RTA. A motorbike had apparently had a head-on collision with a car – both vehicles were in the ditch, so hard to work out how it had happened.
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| Syria – Palmyra |
After leaving Palmyra, I didn’t want to more or less retrace my steps, but wanted to do some sort of loop prior to reaching Hama. So ended up heading towards Raqqa via the ruins of Qasr Al-Heir Ash-Sharqi and then Rasafa. Arrived relatively late in Raqqa after Palmyra and didn’t have any ‘coverage’ for it in our slimmed-down guide book. Drove around and around trying to find a hotel – there were about 4, but they were either scummy long-term doss-houses or the only decent one was both too expensive and in any case some sort of conference was on or and it was full of government officials. Getting despondent about finding a hotel, we called a hotel in Hama and booked ahead, but decided to stop for some food before setting off. I remember having to make clucking noises to make it understood we wanted chicken; the waitress responded by doing a flapping motion with her hands. But then, just as we were about to go, I asked for directions and we had met Qutaiba Ahmad, an English teacher. He and his lovely family put me up for the night and restored our faith in Syria! Much drinking, sightseeing, meeting family and friends and driving around town at breakneck speed in a uncle’s minibus. Uncle (via Qutaiba) ‘I’m a truck driver and I’ve never had a crash’. Me – ‘that’s cos everyone gets out of your way!’ Uncle also gave me an Iraqi banknote with Saddam Hussein’s face on it.
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| Syria – Palmyra to Raqqa |
Next stop Hama. This place is famous for its norias (oak water wheels), and everywhere you go in town can be heard the groaning noise of these wheels, thanks to the wooden hubs running in stone bearings sans lubrication (this video not made by me)
These waterwheels are for irrigation. The water in the Orontes river is channeled so that its flow turns the wheel around. Wooden boxes attached to the wheel raise the water from the level of the river and discharge it into an artificial channel at the summit of the wheel’s rotation. The water is then led by gravity along a series of aqueduct channels and out to domestic or agricultural users in Hama and the surrounding Orontes Valley.
We had seen many posters around Syria advertising the state-owned Cham Palace hotel chain, but we hadn’t stayed or eaten at any before Hama. But in Hama, there was one in a prime location overlooking the river and a number of waterwheels, so we decided to have a meal, quickly discovering that Sham Palace would have been a better name! Never before have I seen a DIY salad – the salad Amanda ordered consisted of whole tomatoes, lettuces, gherkins, an onion and a pepper, together with a thoughtfully-provided chopping board and knife. As if that wasn’t enough, they even tried to charge us for a box of tissues! We were to encounter this repeatedly in Syria, although Sham Palace and all the other restaurants always backed down when we refused to pay for the Kleenex. Prime examples of the little differences between Syria and other places. Around Hama are some interesting sites which we visited in 2 little side-trips, 1 by ourselves and the other with someone else doing the driving.
Pictures of Hama, the waterwheels and the first little trip we did out into the country. Hamanese (?) people seem keen on jumping off the waterwheels!
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| Syria – Hama and around |
The first was Apamea (pronounced Afamaya), an ancient Roman city located on the right bank of the Orontes river about 55 km northwest of Hama. It overlooks the Ghab valley and is notable for its exceptionally long Roman street, lined with classical columns. Later that day we visited the 2 Dead Cities of Serjilla and Al Bara. These are eeerily beautiful and strange ruins in the midst of sprawling olive groves, remarkable remnants of Byzantine farming villages that flourished in the 4th and 5th centuries.
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| Syria – Dead Cities and Apamea |
After Hama we headed ‘up into the Jebel Assyria hills’ ie Syria’s southern Italy-like Mediterranean coast, quite unlike the rest of Syria. First place was Misyaf – found a nice hotel, fairly high-up so a bit cool. Staff let us camp in car park and use facilities. Misyaf also had a castle and while we were sitting at a café at the base of it, some catering people went by with a huge tray of sweetmeats and stopped to give us a sample. Also stopped for directions and were given Argentinean tea by a teacher and friends who’d seen a George Galloway lecture. Not the only Syrian who mentioned him – Gorgeous George had obviously been on a lecture tour around the Middle East fairly recently.
That night saw us in Mashta Al-Helou – open-air restaurant next to hotel, then went for a walk around. Full of people, turned out to be some sort of international sculpture festival going on in this popular family resort. The man in overalls is Russian.
Not very far north of the border with Lebanon can be found the fairytale castle Crac Des Chevaliers. Remember meeting a Syrian-British chap, who was telling me about the recent 300% property boom in Damascus thanks to Iraqis fleeing the war against their country.
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| Crac Des Chevaliers |
After Crac des Chevs, Safita – a village where we stopped to try and find accommodation and the chap ended up riding on the outside of the car to guide us to an apartment! Eventually stayed in a self-catering apartment rented by a simsaar, with a dreadful long climb up a flight of stairs to get to it.
Nearly had a head-on collision while trying to overtake in hills – am ashamed to admit it, but will do so for the sake of road safety. Sorry to the other driver.
Why we stayed in Tartus I can’t remember, but it was indeed fuck1ng awful, just as the book said, and I remember we had an animated exchange with the hotel which wouldn’t bargain on the price. Lattakia the next night was a lot nicer…although my uncle Derek had to step in and help from the UK when I was trying to pay via PayPal for our Iranian visa applications and it got blocked because we were in Syria – a country on the US’s bogeyman list. Thanks, Derek!
Note the pictures of Bashir Assad in Lattakia. Portraits of heads of state are a common fixture across most of the Maghreb and Middle East but, whereas all the other ones look the part, Bashir Assad so doesn’t! Looks more like an area manager for Sainsburys.
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| Syria Mediterranean coast |
It was a pleasant drive back to Aleppo and the rest of Syria through the hills, stopping at the Citadel of Salah Ed-Din. A couple of times we stopped for a walk through the limestone rocks and a look out across the Orontes plateau from the heights.
Arriving in Aleppo was fun to say the least, consisting of driving around and around to find a parking space. Mandy re-asserts her fag hag credentials with some gay guys on a stall in the Souq Al-Atarin, we get to see a bit of Syrian road rage, some Syrian soap and a couple of times, when looking up at the wooden architecture, we even find ourselves wondering whether we’re in Aleppo or Srinagar. The cheap hotel we stayed in was so crap it was laughable, and notable for that alone – it’s called the Najem Akhdar and is on Hamman Al Tal, just near the Bab Alfaraj clocktower. Ate in another lovely restaurant – the Beit Wakil.
Aleppo is famous for its soap. Thanks to Wikipedia for what follows! The main constituents of Aleppo soap are olive and laurel oil. First, the olive oil is brought into a large, in-ground vat along with water and lye. Underneath the vat, there is an underground fire which heats the contents to a boil. Boiling lasts three days while the oil reacts with the lye and water to become a thick liquid soap.
The laurel oil is added at the end of the process, and after it is mixed in, the whole concoction is taken from the vat and poured over a large sheet of waxed paper on the floor of the factory.
At this point the soap is a large, green, flat mass, and it is allowed to cool down and harden for about a day. While the soap is cooling, workers with planks of wood strapped to their feet walk over the soap to try to smooth out the batch and make it an even thickness.
Then the soap is cut. Three workers drag a rudimentary, rake-like cutting device through the soap to cut it one way, then again the other way until the whole mass is cut into individual cubes. Each cube is stamped with the family name.
The cubes of soap are then stacked in staggered cylinders to allow maximum air exposure. Once they have dried sufficiently, they are put into a special subterranean chamber to be aged for one year.
Pictures of the wonderful city of Aleppo.
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| Syria – Aleppo |
Last day in Syria, en route to the Kilis border crossing to Turkey. Not far from this border is Qala’at Samaan aka the Basilica of St Simeon, so stopping there was a pleasant diversion. Stopped at a car wash to try and make the vehicle look as respectable as possible going through the border crossing……we’d filled the jerrycans up with cheap Syrian diesel as in Turkey it’s UK prices and were hoping the Turkish border crossing people wouldn’t twig this. The car wash people who can be seen in the last picture were so nice they even insisted on not taking payment. Pretty much our last dealing with anyone in Syria was with the border officials, who again were so nice they even paid some of the departure tax from their own pocket. Can’t remember exactly what happened, but there was some sort of mixup and I hadn’t brought enough Syrian money with me. That was a humbling experience.
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| Aleppo to Turkish border |
