This past week marked the end of Ramadan, and consequently the celebration of Eid Al-Fitr, the three day holiday that marked the end to the month of fasting. For us this meant that we had the entire week off from classes and thus a prime opportunity to travel around and see a bit more of the Middle East. Most of the other students were making expensive plans to fly to Turkey over the break, but myself and two other budget minded explorers (Alex L and Alex A) decided to take our chances trying to get into Syria, which, if managed would provide a much less costly adventure for our week, as well as more crucial practice speaking (and negotiating) in Arabic. We knew that is was difficult for Americans to obtain Syrian Visas, in fact our guidebook dismissed the idea of getting one at the border, saying it was only possible in Washington (and for $130), but we had heard reports that for those willing to put in the time (over 6 hours for most people) it could be done, and for a fraction of the price getting one Stateside. So we resolved to give it our best shot, knowing if we succeeded we would have the adventure of a lifetime, and what an adventure it was…
We left straight after class Thursday afternoon, heading for Abdali bus station where supposedly service taxis to Damascus left regularly. Because of our visa situation we knew we wouldn’t be able to take a bus because it wouldn’t wait for our “situation” to be worked out so we had to negotiate for a car on the side of the road to bring us to the border, where after (insha allah) getting our visa we would have to find other transportation to Damascus. The man who drove us attempted to hand us off to some taxi driver friends of his close to the border, but we insisted he bring us as far as he could, which according to him was a police checkpoint a few miles away. Here we discovered that we had not quite made it to the border and needed a taxi to drive us the few miles to the Jordanian exit visa station, as we were not allowed to go by foot. Thankfully there was a friendly young Syrian cab driver nearby who agreed to drive us through for a fair price and as we crawled through the traffic and army out posts attempting to discuss Barak Obama’s relationship with Bashar Al Assad in our broken Arabic we knew we were in for quite an experience. After getting our exit visas we proceeded to the Syrian Visa building, a chaotic hall filled with shouting angry people and even less happy men in uniform behind the many windows. After queuing in the small line for foreign visitors we finally were able to hand our passports to the stressed man behind the counter, and in our most pleasant of voices offered him some of our bread as we knew it was close to Iftar and he would be very hungry. His response: American? Sit. You will wait. 2, 3, maybe 5 hours, maybe tomorrow! And with that we took our seats and began the waiting game. Approximately 5 and a half hours later a fax came from Damascus with the green light for us and after paying our $16 and with a hearty Shukran! we made our way out onto the road where a fleet of buses and cars were in a standstill waiting for their passengers to get permission to cross. At each bus we asked at we were turned down, given the signal for full with the fingers interlocked of both hands, feeling discouraged we were finally directed to a large dirty blue bus that had already made it across and was parked on the side, and whose drivers agreed to take us to Damascus for 300 Syrian Pounds (about 6 USD) Getting on we realized that the bus not only didn’t have any seats available, but there were about 10 other people sitting in the isle who also had no seat, leaving us room only to stand on top of our bags for the duration of the journey. Finally getting under way we stopped again after 10 minutes, ostensibly to stock up on snacks at a store roadside. Having had only bread and peanut butter all day we happily grabbed some chips and soda, only to look out to see the bus rolling away, leaving us with no alternative but to run after it and jump in through the open door, much to the amusement of the many passengers who witnessed this, mainly because the bus stopped a few hundred meters on to let on the remainder of the people who were getting food. Another hour of standing passed before the lights went out and the bus rolled to a silent stop along the side of the road, owing to the fact, we were to be calmly told, it had run out of gas. Another hour passed before a delivery of gas was made, and another after that as attempts were made to start back up the failing engine. Finally roaring to life we resumed our cramped crusade into Al Sham (Damascus) and a few hours later were dropped off along some random street, just in time for the Suhoor call to prayer at 4:30 AM. This was followed by a few hours spent walking before we relented and took a taxi to the city center, after which more time was spent fruitlessly searching for the hostels we listed in out travel guide. Finally finding a few of them (and waking up the owners) we were told they were either full or we would have to pay an extra night to arrive before noon, so we made our way back to a nearby park and napped for several hours on benches as the sun rose around ancient, crumbling, Damascus, giving us our first real look at the oldest continually inhabited city on earth. Around 9 AM we arose and found a hostel that had a room we could occupy immediately and as fast as we could climb the stairs and remove our shoes we were asleep, just as the rest of the city woke up around us. Around 4 that afternoon we awoke and decided to get some food and explore the city a bit, so we navigated through the hustle and bustle, passing the park we had taken refuge in earlier and noticing it was full of others resting and playing at this point, ducking through the thick canopy of hanging shoes at outdoor stalls and past the many sweet shops selling all number of syrupy nutty goodies in anticipation of the Eid until we reached the grand entrance to the Souq Al Hamidyya, a long enclosed network of streets bustling with families and foreigners, glittering with bright fabrics and numerous jewelry stores, ending in the Archway of a Roman ruin that framed one side of the grand Umayyad Mosque, one of the most spectacular and historic in the Islamic world. The Old City of Damascus was enigmatic, vibrant, and rife with more twists, turns and hidden gems than we could hope to explore in the few days we would be there. Needless to say we got lost a lot.
The next day we spent the majority of the morning trying the find the US embassy in New City Damascus, which, although less compact and warren like, proven no less confusing and we wandered park to park, fountain to fountain until we finally spotted to high security walls topped by rolls of barbed wire behind which the Red White and Blue was just barely visible. After knocking on the unmarked entrance door we were greeted by a man who informed us the Embassy was closed for the Eid and we should come back next week. So much for that. Later that evening we enjoyed dinner in a courtyard restaurant buried between the streets of Old City, followed by an attempt to explore the Christian Quarter ending in tea and hummus on a café rooftop overlooking the elaborate Minarets of the Umayyad Mosque.
The following morning we hiked to the Pullman Bus station where Al-Kadmous bus company had been recommended to us by a British couple we had met at the hostel. This “luxury” bus service put us on an old Pullman bus to the ancient ruins of Palmyra for a mere $3 and we dozed for the 3 hour drive straight out into the desert. Arriving in Palmyra the next thing we noticed after the spectacular Roman ruins rising magnificently out of the desert was the great number of children in all parts of the modern town next to the ruins, hundreds of young girls and boys running up and down the streets shouting Hello! On closer inspection we discovered that these children were also armed to the teeth, each one with a plastic pellet gun in imitation of any range of real weapons from pistols to rifles and machine guns. For the most part these mini soldiers and gangsters fought turf battles against each other, but occasionally they would train their fire on the tourists, leading us to seek shelter quickly inside a nearby falafel shop. After dropping off our things at our hostel, we spent the evening exploring the ancient ruined city, climbing over the walls of the Temple of Bel (it being closed by the time we arrived) and talking our way into the remarkably well preserved Theater free of charge due to our surprising Arabic abilities. Feeling small and insignificant among all this eroded grandeur, and with miles of columns, temples and tombs still to explore, we resolved to wake up before dawn the next morning to experience the true glory of these monuments as they glowed pink in the rising sun. Before heading back to the modern town we found a passageway up into tower ruin that over looked the grand colonnade, and as we gazed out over the spectacle in the setting sun we imagined what these ruins must have looked like when they were a new city, at its height a truly impressive display of human art and achievement. Brought back from these imaginings to the present by drops of rain we noticed an approaching storm and decided to ride it out in the ancient monument which must have weathered a thousand similar events. As the rain grew harder the wind began to blow the sand in a stinging swirl and we were forced to don our sunglasses for protection and to hunker back into the staircase of the tower. As the rain lessened we resolved to make our way through the ruins as the light was rapidly fading and with the wind at our backs and dogs howling in the distance we picked our way past the columns and walls to where our bed waited our imminent rest in anticipation of our early rise.
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