Camel Races

While in Palmyra we learned that there was a local festival going on and there were camel races every day at a local race track. Both of us loved the idea of seeing camel races so we made plans to go.

We had befriended a British couple and an Australian couple so we all went together and hired a mini-bus to take us 20 km through the desert to the race track. At 3PM on that day we jumped on the beat-up bus and headed to the track. As we went we picked people up along the way until the bus was overflowing with people. The track was located on a side road in the middle of nowhere out in the desert. It had a beautiful white building that we heard was funded by the government of Oman. The lawn in front had perfectly manicured green grass.

Many of the camels were raised by the Bedouin. The Bedouin are a semi-nomadic people who live in tents in the desert and move about with their livestock and their camels. The bus dropped us off in the middle of the local Bedouin people preparing the camels for the race. It was an amazing sight to walk around the locals working on all the camels and we felt very much stared at and out of place there.

We were then taken to a grandstand where we (the foreigners) waited for the race to begin. Expensive Range Rovers and SUV's brought foreign dignitaries and sheiks to a road around the track where they would drive along and follow the race. Soon a mass of camels came running up to the starting line and took off running down the track, the vehicles following. As the camels rounded the track and approached the finish line in front of us we all left the grandstands and went out on the track to watch them pass. They frothed at the mouth and ran wild-eyed as the jockeys riding them tried to get everything out of them they could. As the victor crossed the finish line there was lots of celebrating as a lot of money was won and lost on that result.

After most of the camels crossed the finish line before us another batch of camels took off for the next race. We were informed that it was time for our ride to leave. We left the grandstand and walked past the camels and their owners toward the minivan. Bedouin families stared at us. Happy men took their winnings from the betting office and others placed more bets.

As our minivan left the whirl of activity we lamented with the Australian and British couple that we had to leave so soon. The camel races had been one of the highlights of our trip so far.

Steve

Palmyra

We were both looking forward to visiting Palmyra and the experience ended up better than we expected since we found much more than ruins and sand.

As we approached Palmyra we could see the tents of the semi nomadic Bedouins camouflaged with the sand and a few camels going around them. We arrived in Palmyra to find that the President of the country and other Sheiks of Arab countries were in town for the end of the Palmyra Festivals and we felt lucky that we were able to find a room in a hotel a few blocks away from the main street.

We immediately fell in love with the place, were the locals offer you tea everywhere and the colorful shops add life to the monochromatic desert. The deafening silence of the desert is suddenly broken by a line of honking cars -another wedding- adorned by flowers and white or pastel color balloons and carrying a smiling bride on her way to the festivities. A walk to a restaurant in the main street was very often interrupted by another stop to greet locals and answer the usual questions of the children practicing their English "where are you coming from, what is your name" and so on.

We met some nice travelers from England, Germany and Australia and made plans to do some visits together the following days. We spent hours walking through the ruins under the scorching sun and taking hundreds of pictures and we have to say that Palmyra is quite a special spot. This oasis grows some of the lushest palm trees we have ever seen, and they produce the best dates we have ever tasted.

As expected -due to the location- we felt quite isolated because Internet access was scarce and super slow, so we decided to forget about what was happening out there and enjoy the disconnection. The town was crowded with men wearing turbans of all different colors and they were explained to us, black for Palestinians, red for Syrians, different design in black as well for Saudi Arabians and burgundy for Bedouins and so on.

There was this funny situation in which we were sitting in a restaurant and a big bearded man in a white tunic and red turban asked us were we were from and I immediately answered "Argentina".
"You have an American accent, where are YOU from?" he said looking at Steve.
This guy had come out of a Hummer limo with a driver and two other men that clearly were his body guards. We knew he was the "capo" of something. What if he hated Americans?
Steve looked pale and I thought for a second that I didn't want to be in his shoes.
"United States" he said weakly (was the worst about to come?)
"I am the Minister of Culture of Oman and I'm traveling with the King of Oman. I lived in Seattle for seven years and love the West Coast of the United States. What are you doing in Syria?"
"Tourism, seeing the country and meeting the people" said Steve now with some color on his face.
"I hope you meet us tonight for a party and tomorrow for the camel races, and you would be welcomed in Oman" he said as he smoked his narguileh (water pipe).
"We are actually thinking of going there, and yes, you will see us later and tomorrow".
"Very nice to meet you" he said, as we shook hands and they drove away in the Hummer.

We met with Jordi, our Spanish friend, and others for great Bedouin food and travel stories. We really liked Palmyra because it surprised us in so many ways.

Gaby

Hama

Hama is located in the middle of Syria and is known for the giant Norias (waterwheels) which are located along the Orontes River which ran through the town. The Norias were historically important because they scooped up water from the river and channeled it to aqueducts where it would be taken to water the local crops.

We stayed at the excellent Riad Hotel in Hama because Muhammad, who we met through CouchSurfing works there. When we first arrived he took us to his favorite Falafel place and told us about himself and his home town.

In Hama we took some time off from our travels and rested up. We caught up on errands, slept a lot and generally forgot about moving about for a few days. We took leisurely walks around the city. We met Jordi, from Barcelona and had a great time hanging out with him. We hope to possibly meet up with him again when we go to Spain in January.

Our hotel arranged a one day excursion with a Dutch couple by minibus to the dead cites of Serjilla and Al-Bara. These old cities are from the time before Christ and have stayed pretty well conserved despite their age. There are many "Dead Cities" in the middle of Syria and they are of varying interest and state of ruin. Some are far away from civilization while others are in populated areas with crops surrounding them and livestock grazing inside of them.

Serjilla and Al-Bara are considered by some to be the most interesting of the dead cities because of their isolated location on a hilly area with lots of white stone, red dirt and almost no vegetation make visiting them an eerie, almost otherworldly experience. While we were at this terrific place there was almost no one else around. It was a fantastic experience scrambling through the ruins and seeing the different buildings.

Before we left Hama we had a taste of the wonders of Syrian bureaucracy. Our visas, like most given out were for 15 days, and on our 15th day in Syria we went to the immigration office in Hama for an extension. The office was a taxi ride from the hotel and from the entrance we were directed past the lines of waiting locals to a corner office. The office had one computer (20 years old and still ran on DOS) 5 immigration officers who chain smoked and shelves stacked with old files. It was clearly the "special case" room and we were made to wait a while. When it was our turn we turned in our passports to the head official and were told that we needed a signed proof from our hotel that we were staying there. So we took a taxi to the Riad, listened to the obscenities directed toward Syrian bureaucracy by the Riad employee, and with our note took a taxi ride back to the immigration office from the hotel. Then it was back in line again to wait. When the chain-smoking official decided to see us again he told us the note needed an official stamp from the hotel we are staying at. So it was again taxi, Riad, obscenities directed toward Syrian bureaucracy, stamp, taxi, wait for a while, then immigration official. Then we had to go to an other office where we fought through throngs of people jockeying to get to the counter (Syrians don't know how to wait in line) to pay money and get a stamp. Another office to get our names entered in a 20 year old DOS computer by a chain smoking official, up to the next floor to have the head guy of the whole place approve it, down to the original office to wait in line, then get our visa extensions completed and back up to the next floor where the head guy signed our visa extensions. In the huge, plush corner office where the head guy signed our extensions he shook our hand, said "Welcome to Syria" and a man brought us cookies and coffee to drink as a symbolic act. Now legal but punch drunk from the hour and a half experience we shook the officials hand and smiled. We finally left.

It was time to head to Palmyra.

Steve

Tartus

Tartus is a beautiful city located on the south coast of Syria. I never thought we would be walking into a place with such nice people and such familiar customs for me, as an Argentinean.

The bus from Lattakia left us on a wide boulevard and it took us a few minutes of looking at the map to figure out in which direction we should start walking. A few blocks down the street an old lady started yelling at us "Veni, Veni!" (come here, come here!) in Spanish!?!?

For a second my brain froze and I had to ask her, "Are you talking to me in Spanish?" to which she responded "Yes! Argentina yo! Veni! Sentate!" (Yes, I'm Argentinean! Come here! Sit down!") with almost somewhat of a gypsy accent. There were two sisters and one brother. All of them were born in Syria but had lived in Argentina for most of their lives and decided to come back to their natal Tartus to spend the last years of their lives, they are all in their 80s. After spending some time with them and listening to their stories, we headed in search of a hotel.

On our way to dinner a nice young guy asked if we needed help and that ended up in a lovely dinner for three and various encounters with him and his great group of friends for mate!!!. The whole experience was at times, surreal.

We walked the lovely streets of this summer destination city that has very good ice-cream stores, plenty of shwarma stands and outdoor cafes where everyone sits around in the evenings to smoke the narguile (water pipe) and socialize.

We visited Arwad Island and walked around the narrow alleys and visited the old fortress. When going back to Tartus by ferry the mountains of Lebanon were just a few kilometers to our left and we enjoyed another amazing Syrian sunset over the water.

People stopped us in the streets to give us their phone numbers in case we needed any kind of help, and just to be on the safe side we both said we were Argentineans in case someone was sensitive about Bush adding Syria to the "Axes of Evil". We found the kindness of the people amazing and again, we also found ourselves staying longer than expected just to visit with the locals.

We did a day trip to "Krak des Chevaliers", an amazing crusader castle that is 800 years old and according to T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) "the greatest castle in the world". The bus left us in the crossroad and we were lucky to find a taxi nearby that took us all the way up the hill to the castle. We caught a minibus our way back in time to meet with Hamza, a local guy we found via Couchsurfing.

Tartus was a great place and the slow pace of the town, together with the openness of the locals allowed us to kick back and relax while at the same time learn lots about the country and the culture. We definitely enjoyed it very much.

Gaby

Lattakia

From Aleppo we moved on to Lattakia, Syria's largest port city. Our guidebook recommended that we take the train to Lattakia, as the scenery on that line goes through the coastal mountains, passing through tunnels and high over bridges across valleys below. Our First Class train was absolutely filthy and the windows were so dirty that we had trouble enjoying the wonderful mountain scenery we paid to see.

The litter strewn tracks of the city turned into the outskirts of Aleppo and soon enough we were traveling through the dry, hilly countryside towards the coast. As we went over the mountains we went through pine forests and mountain villages. After about 4 hours we finally got to Lattakia in the dark and took a taxi to the Lattakia hotel where we stayed during out time there.

Although Lattakia is located on the coast swimming is not recommended because the cities sewage is pumped into the ocean and anyone who swims in it will come out coated in a stinky green slime. For the same reason the local beaches aren't that great.

Lattakia is one of the most liberal cities in Syria and when we explored the "American Quarter" we were shocked at the difference from ultra-conservative Aleppo. The American Quarter was full of Western style fast food pizza and hamburger restaurants . The people also dressed different. Fewer men wore the body-length Islamic suits and hats and many of the women there wore high heels, tight fitting clothes and had their heads uncovered. For us seeing the women dressed so provocatively and having them stare at us, whereas in Aleppo they were so reserved, was a real culture shock. We talked in length with the manager of the hotel we stayed at and he explained that as a port city Lattakia had more foreign influence and some of the women we saw were Christians. He said that he would never marry a woman who did not choose to cover her head and said he broke up with his last girlfriend because she was not open to the idea of him having another wife. Men can legally have 4 wives in Syria although in practice very few men have more than one nowadays.

The ancient city of Ugarit was apparently the first place a written alphabet was found in Syria. An old coastal trading city, its ruins are about 30 minutes north of Lattakia via local minibus. The location was nice overlooking the nearby ocean but the ruins themselves required a serious imagination to figure out what the piles of stones used to be. I would only recommend visiting it to amateur archaeologists.

Qala'at Salah ad-Din required a 45 minute ride in a local minibus to the town of Al-Haffi. From there you hire a local to take you to the castle on the back of a motor scooter. The trip, which causes your life to flash before your eyes on various occasions takes you to a ridge where you can see the castle on a forested peak in front of you. Then you scream down a dirt road and climb back up to the castle. The 360 degree views of Lattakia in the distance, the ocean and the mountains behind you from up on the turrets were terrific and the castle was nice and relatively empty when I was there.

Although Lattakia was not one of the highlights of Syria for us it was a pleasant, less touristy place to visit and I definitely enjoyed the castle of Qala'at Salah ad-Din.

Steve

Dead Cities

The Dead Cities are a series of ancient ghost towns and the great mystery is why the towns where abandoned. Through our hotel we arranged a day tour in a minibus for five of us: Steve and I, a couple from Switzerland, and a Japanese guy who is currently studying Arabic in Damascus. We visited the Dead Cities of Qatura, Ain Dara and Qala' At Samaan (or St. Simeon).

Qatura was from the Roman era and we were able to see Latin and Greek inscriptions. A few kids that live nearby came running to greet us and then sell us fossilized seashells. The fossils are lying around everywhere and it was quite contradictory to understand that this area was a sea at a certain point. Up on top of the hill that overlooked the temple we could see anti-air craft guns and rocket launchers.

Ain Dara was built a thousand years before Christ and was a Hittite Temple dedicated to the Goddess Ishtar.

Qala' At Samaan was definitely the most interesting of the ruins. The story behind this place is that of a peculiar individual, Simeon. As a young boy born in 392 AD, he opted for monastic life although that was insufficiently ascetic and decided to retreat to a cave where he lived under a self imposed severity regime. When people found out about about this, they started visiting him. Simeon greatly resented this invasion and built a 3 meter pillar so he couldn't be touched. Legend says that as his tolerance decreased he started building higher pillars. His last pillar was 18 meters high, in which he lived 40 years. He wore an iron collar around his neck that was linked to a railing to prevent him from falling while asleep in the middle of the night. Simeon preached on his pillar to thousands of pilgrims that went to see him, although he refused to talk to women and even his mother was not allowed to get close to the pillar.

We enjoyed our day walking over piles of rocks, finding ancient inscriptions and fossils, meeting the locals and spending time with our fellow travelers. It was time to continue traveling and we were anxious to be close to the Mediterranean again, so we headed over to Lattakia.

Gaby