Damascus and the great chill out

November 27th to December the 6th

We got up pretty late this morning and took breakfast in the hotel. We were staying across town, by the antiquated Damascus train station. Trains still run from here, up through the Barada Gorge. But not in the winter-time. We had a good lie in and then went to check into the El Haramein hotel in Souq Saroujah. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining in bright, fresh, blue sky. Merryl was a little less fatigued this morning, however it is not an easy thing to go from running around frantically to being relaxed and in holiday mode. You can often end up ill if you are not careful. So we decided to just have a chilled day exploring the city and not doing too much at all. This plan, it transpired, extended over nearly two weeks; it was pretty cool as Damascus is an amazing city and it was so cool watching Merryl fall in love with it.


Marcus met us at the hotel. We had a lot of stuff to grab from Merryl, books, booze, clothes, and cables. After which we headed out to explore. As it was a Friday nearly everything was shut (in Arabic countries Friday and Saturday are the week-end). However we decided to take in the old city once more. But first we introduced Merryl to fresh juices and falafels. Followed by a chai and a nargile.

...we are winding our way down through Bab Touma Street, behind the citadel. We are on on the ubiquitous lonely planet walk and are already pretty knackered. The first stop was a cafe where we had a Nargile. Merryl is not used to them and is pretty spaced. Our feet are killing us from walking but there is so much to see and do. We have followed the main alley, lined with creeping vines and shuttered windows. Shops selling clothes, music, and jewellery are on everyside. Music is blasting out from a shop to our left. I don't recognise it but the lyrics are in Arabic. We strike south away from the main street and down toward straight street. Chaos has curled herself around the Roman archways at the east end of the ancient decamanus. The road is rent asunder due to maintenance to the street. People, cars, and bicycles are trying to make there negotiate their way through the mess. We abort the walk and head back to the Ummayad mosque. At 5pm this evening there is an Arabic storyteller. We are hurrying excitedly to catch him when I spot an elderly European man sitting on the side of the street. His long legs are drawn up to his ears and his head is bowed, almost in reverence. I bend down beside him and tap him on the shoulder. "Hello Per!" I venture...

We got little further the first day than looking around the old town. We managed to have a good look around the old city and the souq. It is quite a walk through the to the Great Mosque, but a very pleasant one. We bipped and bopped around the shops, introduced Merryl to the joys of the nargile, and took it very easy. The old city, once past the mosque, becomes a winding labyrinth of streets and alleyways. Trying to negotiate using a map is pointless [interestingly enough, most Muslim people do not read maps. Or know the names of streets by name. Getting a taxi is so much fun]. From here you can choose a number of different routes. You can head north-east to Bab Touma, and the Christian area, or south to Straight Street. Or you can keep heading east until you get to the old city walls and work your way back along the north wall into the fruit markets, the second-hand stalls, and the restaurants and hamams.


We are sitting in an Arabic restaurant in the old town. we are upstairs seated just away from the balcony. It runs all around the top of the restaurant on three sides. Below us, a raucous noise is rising up from the tables below. There is a Sudanese award ceremony taking place for students studying in Damascus. We have been seated near the wall and Per is trying to get us moved so we have a view of the banquet below. The waiter keeps feigning ignorance, but Ammar, the Iraqii gentlemen Per knows from his hotel, intervenes on our behalf and explains in Arabic. The waiter tells him the tables are reserved. Per tells him we are going to leave. We are immediately relocated. We are sitting for some time waiting for food. The waiters are all preoccupied with the vast and hungry crowd below. Marcus is chatting with Per. Merryl is practicing blowing smoke-rings, and bilious clouds, of sweet smelling tobacco is drifting past me. I am chatting with Ammar. Adjacent to us a Damascene family are seated. The father is trying to plug a laptop he has brought with him into a power socket. Two waiters are stringing the cable over the walkway. They are struggling with comic expertise to suspend it over the aisle. It topples under the load. The awards have stopped below and a allegro tempo'd song strikes up. Someone is singing. A young girl from the family adjacent stands up on her chair and begins a hypnotically vogesque dance to the music below. Our food still has yet to arrive. I turn to Ammar and say "Why is it you can't still return to Baghdad?"...

Most of the next couple of days were spent this way. We hung out in the old city. Taking in the sites and sounds of Damascus, whilst Merryl adjusted to our pace. Which, to be fair was doing pretty much nothing at all. [Travelling for a long time has a wonderful affect on your attitude. Nothing really gets you stressed. Nothing needs to be done in a hurry. You experience a wonderful feeling of deceleration. Like the world is slowing down. In reality you are just shaking off the rat-race coil. So many people have remarked on how relaxed we are and are surprised we are the age we say we are. Most of this, if not all, is due to the fact we don't have to work for a living. Stress is the product of a working life. You really don't need anti-aging cream ladies. You just need to quit your job.] In the evening we headed out for a meal in a restaurant. It was very good and very cheap.

Damascus and a long awaited meeting

November 26th - December 6th

...It is evening and we are sitting in Cafe Roche on Souq Saroujah. We never really learn: we have been here three times previously. Each time we come here we vow never to return. It's not that it isn't a nice cafe, because it is. The place has a very chilled ambiance. The food is nice also, when it arrives. The owner is really friendly, and it is always busy. It is a tiny little place. It is freezing cold and we are all wearing fleeces. We are smoking a Nargile and waiting for our friend, Rachel to arrive. Everything is just so slow. Everything you order is prepared right in front of you as the kitchen is by the door. The chef moves with the speed of a tortoise. The only person I have ever seen cook slower than him is his assistant chef. This guy has his hand bandaged up. The last time we were in here he was on his own - the food took over an hour.

Marcus, Merryl, and myself are playing cards. Black-jack is the name of the game. We are lazing languidly on cushions and chatting with four Syrian guys. They are all asking us where we have been in Syria, and are very impressed that we travelled east to Dier-Ez-Zor. They are extolling onto us the virtues of camel meat. One guy, called Faoud, is explaining that 48 hours after eating camel meat, you start to feel movements. I mistakenly assume he is talking about bowel movements. He is a bit embarrassed to say in front of Merryl - but he emphasises that the movements are of the male kind. The penny finally drops. The owner comes bounding over and tells us he can order real camel meat. He can also arrange tours for us. Given his track record, we are a little suspect of this. Rachel comes in with her friend Natalie. We sit and chat and drink milky curries; giant, curry flavoured, piping hot-milk drinks. We are arranging to go to a contemporary dance performance by two of Natalie's Iraqii friends...

November 27th

We checked out of the El Arabi and into El-Haramein. We then headed off to the Indian Embassy. We had already located it the day before but it was closed. So we headed off early this morning to begin our visa application process. It required us to fill in a huge form outside a cold consular window. This we dutifully did. We were then told our handwriting was not neat enough and were asked to go and get it typed. Typed? We asked them could we fill it out in our bestest handwriting and promise not to make any mistakes; I made three. They seemed to be happy with this and we agreed to return in 14 days to get have our passports processed.

After this we were free to explore for the day. I was meeting Merryl from her flight into Damascus airport at 4:30pm our time. So we strolled around, down into the old city, past the Great Ummayad Mosque and through the into Straight Street, and Damascus's Souqs.

The old city was a massive walled Medina that enclosed nearly a square kilometre. The walls still stand, along with the eight extant gates; or remnants thereof. We wandered passed the Citadel through the Souq Al-Hammidiya, down into Via Recta; Straight Street, known in Arabic as Shia Medhat Pasha through to Shia BabSharqi. The whole street has recently been upturned in order to lay new water pipes and sewage pipes. It is a mess. Nearly three feet of road is missing. Many of the shops have closed or are inaccessible. Had they gone down eight feet they would probably have began to uncover the city beneath the city. The remains of previous occupations.

... We meander through the backstreets of the Old City. Up towards the Ummayad Mosque. Buildings from the Ottoman period adorn either side of the alleys. Their balconies and windows extending onto, and over, the street, casting a unexpected umbra in the middle of the afternoon. We make our way around the mosque and sojourn in a small tea house. Everyone is smoking nargile and drinking chai or turkish coffee - a sweet, thick, viscous, liquid - the chatter of conversation drifts through the sweet smell of apple tobacco. Next to us a woman sits and sketches the scene. Marcus and I smoke a nargile together and take tea, black, with mint and lots of sugar. Damascenes wander passed and we sit amicably and people-watch. Lazing the afternoon away. I suddenly check my watch and realise I have to go. I have a car booked for 3:30pm and I have to get back to the hotel and get ready. I hasten back along the Great Mosque through square, with pigeons flying in unison around the lancing minarets, and into the Souq Al-Hammidiya between the Roman arches into a sea of people, traders, shoppers, and street vendors. High above, bullet holes pepper the corrugated roof of the souq. Sunbeams stream through a myriad of holes, falling down on the moving crowds in a kaleidoscope of light...

Merryl's flight was delayed for two hours. I sat waiting in the airport. It lies some 30km north-east of the city. Luckily the driver was booked through the hotel so he acknowledged the delay and waited. I was buried in John Peel's biography for much of the time and sipping Black Label whiskey in the airport bar also helped pass the time. The airport was very busy and and quite cool as airports go. I had had a little problem trying to confirm the flight was delayed at first, but once I had got confirmation. I was happy to chill-out. Merryl and I had met on the cusp of my exiting the UK. Literally. She decided to come and meet myself and Marcus for a couple of weeks - in Jordan originally, but she couldn't resist the opportunity to visit Syria also. Not that she was kicking her heels in the UK. She has recently just come back from tracking wildlife in the Masai region in Kenya. She is a Zoologist.

Her flight finally got in around 7pm. Given she had left around 6am that morning, she was pretty exhausted. Plus she was carrying a load of goodies for Marcus and myself. We got straight into the car and headed back to Damascus. As much as I wanted to hit the town. We decided on a quiet night in. Tomorrow we are going to explore Damascus together.

Damascus first day

November 25th


Damascus claims to be the oldest continually inhabited city on the planet. Here is a list of cities on Wikipedia that also share the same claims. Note the 'continually' statement here. There are older cities but none that have managed to avoid falling by the wayside at some point. For a list of other cities check out the Wikipedia reference here:


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_oldest_continuously_inhabited_cities


It has other names: Dimashq, ash-Shām, Dammeśeq, Dar Meshq. It has many faces, and has worn many guises over the millennia, the is an ancient city, with an an old soul, and it has seen many kingdoms rise and fall. Mark Twain - in his book The Innocents Abroad - wrote of the place "no recorded event has occurred the world but Damascus was in existence to receive news of it. Go back as you will into the vague past and there has always been a Damascus... She has looked upon the bones of a thousand empires and will see the tombs of a thousand more before she dies." Yes. This city is old.


There are references to a settlement here as far back as 15thC BC from deciphered Egyptian tablets. It was once a great Oasis in the middle of the desert, watered by the Barada, an ocean expanse of green, incongruent against the empty desert. It is said the prophet Mohammed passed by Damascus on a journey from Mecca and, looking down from the Jebel Qassioun, refused to enter the city as he wanted to enter paradise only once, and that was when he died.


... It is hard to conjure such evocative imagery to my mind as I sit on a bus into Damascus, stuck in a traffic-jam into the city on a bus from Hama. Everywhere around me is a jungle, but not a luscious green expanse of trees; instead concrete roads, under-passes, over-passes, and bypasses snake out in all directions. High rise buildings loom to the south, and east. Everywhere horns are beeping, the sun is shining. The bus is packed and the heaters are on full blast. Everyone is sweltering and the curtains are pulled closed, to try and block the sun from beating down - even in the month of November it is still hot; even despite the city being 580 metres above sea level (sea level being the Mediterranean 80 km to the east - beyond war-torn Lebanon). The radio is blaring Arabic music. A musky smell hangs in the air. Someone has spices in a bag. I can smell fresh cumin, ginger, and something else I can't quite place. I turn my attention back to my book...


The first firm reference to this place was with the onset of the Armorite period circa 2000BC, however not much remains of the Aramean city as much of area has since been built upon. The Arameans came from the north and their language was a forerunner to what was to become Aramaic. In fact one of the major Aramaean temples - dedicated to the God Hadad. Is thought to be buried beneath the Great Ummayyad mosque. Between the period of 1720 to 1570BC it fell under Egyptian rule and then again to be ruled by the Arameans for a long time during their wars with the Assyrians and the Israelites. Ash-Shām was mentioned in Genesis as existing at the time of the war of the Kings - King David, Nebuchadnezzar, Abraham is mentioned as ruling in Damascus, after coming from the land of Babylon.



Alexander, in 333BC, first brought western occupation to Damascus as he romped through most of Asia on whilst he pursued his personal hobby of conquering the known world as a young man - most kids smoke pot-pourri and go to mosh-pits - in his wake, many followed. The Middle East became open to western influence and everyone wanted a piece of it: The Seleucids waged war against the Hellenistic Egyptians - the Ptolemaics - for control of Syria, and many other empires joined in the fun. Then the Romans arrived.



... I look up from my book to see we have arrived in the city's northern bus station. As usual it is chaos. mini-buses, coming and going from and to destinations unknown to me, are beeping and emptying and filling up, all through the station. People are shouting, police are directing traffic. Touts are shouting out destinations as buses pull out. Taxis are queuing up for fares. We step down from out bus into the melee. We retrieve our luggage and don our 70 litre rucksacks on our backs and 3o litre day-packs on our chests and march into the throng like soldiers into war. We are met with a tumultuous greeting from people vying for business. No taxi driver will take us for a reasonable fare. We try to explain we are not American (and therefore not rich). A policeman gets involved in our conversation. He offers to show us an alternative route. We wade through the crowd until we find an antiquated bus that will take us into town. The fare is 5p. I settle back down and continue reading...


The Romans efficiently took control of Damascus in BC 64 and turned it into a military base for armies of legionnaires in there conquest of the Middle East and there war in the north, against the Persians. The city itself became annexed. It was declared a Metropolis by Hadrian II and given a great deal of Independence. All this occurred around the time when, 400km to the south, history was being written into the very fabric of modern Christianity. By the 2nd century AD, under the reign of Alexander Severus, it became a Roman colony. Christianity swept through the Roman Empire during the next 200 years and Damascus became a major focal point for worship. With the fall of the Roman Empire in 395AD - like so many Arabic cities - the Byzantine Empire took up the mantle, as it were, and its influence was to remain on the Damascenes until the rise of Islam 300 years later.


635AD saw the arrival of the Muslim armies under Khaled Ibn-al-Walid, who annexed Damascus (and Syria) to the Muslim Empire. Mass conversion to Islam followed, but although the Christians and Jews became minorities, they were still treated very well and with complete tolerance. This led to the Golden Age of Damascus started which began in 661AD, when Muawiyah Bin Abi Sufian established himself as fifth Caliph (or successor of the Prophet Mohammad), thus founding the Umayyad Dynasty which ruled for about a century over the Muslim Empire, of which Damascus became the capital, making it the most important cultural, economic and political centre in this extensive empire, stretching from Spain and the shores of the Atlantic ocean, all the way to Iran and India. No less than fourteen Umayyad Caliphs ruled Damascus during this period. Sadly, the Golden Age ended abruptly in 750AD when the Abbassids (powerful Arabian family settled in Iran) murdered the Umayyad Caliph, putting an end to the Umayyad Caliphate and occupying Damascus. The Abbassids destroyed countless of the numerous monuments built by their predecessors and proceeded to eradicate all traces of the Umayyad era. They moved the capital to Baghdad, in the process, plunging Damascus in 300 years of unrest, civil strife and successive assaults. The great city was almost completely burned down...


The bus has pulled up at Shia Basha. We don't know this yet, but it is right by the hotel we wish to stay at. We are a little disorientated and try to pinpoint are whereabouts by using the Lonely Planet map. This is much like trying to nail jelly to a ceiling. We end up wandering around looking for a landmark. I finally manage to ask a shoe-shiner, in broken Arabic, how to get to the train-station. He takes Marcus and I on a jaunt up the road to point it out to us; for some baksheesh of course - which he complains about. We finally figure out the road we are looking for is by where we alighted from the bus - in Souq Saroujah. This turns out to be a narrow, leafy, shia, far from the madding crowd, with small shops on either side and climbing plants that tumble lazily down from the Ottoman style merchant houses above us. cafes with outside tables are situated at the top of the street. Nargile smoke wafts down toward us scented with apple. We head into the hotel El Arabi and check in...

After this things get a little bit complicated. Suffice to say over the next 500 years power passed hands between the Turkish, Egyptians, and the Aleppo dynasties. In 1069AD The city fell under the first crusader siege. During the funboy wars it again changed hands several times.

The Tartars briefly occupied Damascus in 1260, the same year in which the Memluks captured it, under Sultan Baybars. The Memluks ruled over Damascus in much prosperity until disaster struck in 1400 in the form of Tamurlane, leader of the Mongols. The Mongol invasion of Damascus (and other places) was notoriously bloody and Memluk Damascus would never fully recover from this fatal blow.

Between the the early 16th century to the 20th Century Damascus was under control by the Ottoman empire, there were attempts to seize control by Lebanon and Egypt but none were successful. The Ottoman Empire was finally brought to an end by events during the Great War which sucked Syria into the conflict. Sherifi Hussein of Mecca lead an Arabic revolution which liberated Syria for the first time in 4 centuries. It was to be short lived though: negotiations between Syria's independence were not honoured. The English and the French had secretly concluded the Sykes-Picot agreement, in which they carved up the Middle East, both geographically and politically, for themselves. The French occupied Syria and imposed their mandate for the next 25 years. It wasn't until WWII that France finally recognised Syria's independence - but even then they failed to bugger off. Not until they were finally ousted in April 17th 1946. Even then, in a show of bitterness, they bade farewell to the city by peppering the roof of the old city with bullets from their fighters..

I close the book and stretch lazily on the bed. I am now itching to explore this fascinating place. We have managed to check into the wrong hotel. The El Arabi is a very ornate, and picturesque building - with a wonderful open courtyard. But winter is descending on Damascus, and open courtyards and airy rooms, with high ceilings, are not cosy dwellings for the winter. Tomorrow Marcus will check into El Haremain. I will join him a day later, after first meeting Merryl. She flies into Damascus tomorrow afternoon. For now though, we are heading off to explore the citadel, the souq, and maybe have a nargile or two...

Latakia day two: extending visas and Tartus

November 24th

We got up this morning in Latakia with a plan to extend our visas. We had obtained multiple entry visas for Syria before leaving the UK. Unfortunately, Syria is slighty anal in its approach to foreign visitors. By this I mean that you have to register your passport details with every hotel you visit and most buses you travel on. You also have to also extend your visa - even though you can stay in the country for one month. Syria has a very communist atttitude [this is because it has a heavy communist influence, both politically and economically. Much more on this later]. You definitely get the impression you are being watched. Friends who live here get the impression they are being tapped electronically. You can notice the big brother influence in small ways all over the place. The most overt example I can think of offhand is the way the current president - Bashar Al-Assad's - son of Afez Al-Assad - picture is everywhere. Smiling from every shop, cafe, wall, barber-shop, and juice stand you see. When I asked someone why they wanted to put up the picture in their shop they replied 'because we are expected to'. The president's gentle, benign, smile is the public face of Syria. Reassuring everyone, including us tourists that things are good.

Anyways so the visa extension process needs to take place on the 14th-15th day of your visit. Many people have told us that this is beaurocratic nonense and can be ignored. From what we have seen of Syria hitherto this point, we decided it prudent to be prudent.

The visa extension office is great fun. We had such larks here. The office was a maelstrom of Syrians, Iraqiis, Iranians, Russians, Azerbajanians, and of course us. There is no queuing system [god damn it, I'm English]. There never is outside England, to be honest. We fought our way through rivers of emigrees and extensionees until we finally got to the extension office for non-arabic persons. The process was bewitching: We first had to fill out a lengthy form in French and submit several passport photos. We then had to give them to a guy with a big moustache and an impressive array of epaulettes gleaming on each shoulder. He told us what we had written wrongly and we corrected them. Once he was satisfied he tossed them aside and we waited. Then we paid him some money and the fun really began. The best way to describe this is to refer to Asterix the Gaul; one of my favourite books is the Twelve Tasks of Asterix. In this adventure, he and Obelix - his best friend and erstwhile companion - have to complete twelve tasks, similar to that of Hercules, set by Julius Ceasar. One of the tasks is to obtain a tax return [or something similar] from the imperial tax-office in Rome. They start the task positively and with good cheer. After several hours they are repeatedly sent backward and forward, looking for a B11a form to obtain a C452 order, so they may get a L15 card with which to... and so on and so on. They end up losing the plot entirely and beating seven shades of shit out of everyone. It was one of the funniest things I can ever remember reading, mainly in the genius potrayal of their growing frustration. That is pretty much how we spent our morning. With the added bonus of not speaking Arabic. We went from office to office, upstairs, downstairs, getting stamped left and right. We finally got our extensions! The effort felt pretty Herculean by the end of it.

We spilled out into the warm sunshine and walked to the pullman bus station a 1/2 a mile away. We decided to hop on a bus to Tartus first. Another coastal town further south. We got into Tartus about an hour before sunset. We walked a couple of kilometres into town in time for sunset. We had a quick stroll around the old city, saw a church, and then had a meal on seafront. After that we sat in a pikey bus-station waiting for a bus back to Homs, to change for Hama as there was no direct bus.

We stayed one more night in Hama. Tomorrow we are heading for Damascus.

Qala'at a Saladin, Latakia, and Tartus

November 23rd - 24th

Katie left this morning, heading for Aleppo. Per had left for Tartus to check out an apartment. Marcus and I decided to take a trip to Saladin's castle in the North and then to be dropped in the town of Latakia where we planned to spend the night.

We headed off early and had a pleasant drive up through the Jebel Assyria in the morning sunshine. We got to Qala'at A Saladin late in the morning. We could not have asked for a better day to travel and to explore. It was a warm, hazy day; T-shirt weather but not overly hot.

Qala'at Salah ad-Din as it is now know used to be called 'Saône' during the crusaders times (named after Robert de Saône). It was later called Sayhun in Arabic.

There is not a great deal of information pertaining to it for reference. It sits on a wedge-shaped ridge between two valleys. 25km from the coastal town of Latakia. The side of the wedge leading to the valley was seperated by a 28metre man made ditch - cut into the sheer rock. It is pretty impressive to see. The castle itself sprawls along the top of the ridge, sitting amidst the range of trees covering the valley; taking up some 12 acres. In Saladin's time it was thought to be able to house 10,000 men. It was a perfect strategic setinel between Latakia and Aleppo's trade route.

There was a fortification here going back to Alexander's time and further through the Byzantine period; although not that much is known of it. In the 10th century an impressive citadel was built. The crusaders nabbed it in the 12th Century and added their own modifications. Saladin laid siege to it and finally took it in 1188 after a month battle.

the journey up to the castle was pretty fun as it consisted of a series of hairpin turns over stomach-churning drops. Once we got there, we spent a good two hours exploring every bit of it. I absolutely loved it. Just as much, if not more, as Krak. There were so many hidden areas and towers to climb and battlements to wander around. We even found a passageway that led through the outer walls on to the glacis itself on the castle's east-side. There was no angle-grinding cuts anywhere to be seen and I think this must have been part of the original design. It was amazingly good fun.

As for the views through the valley to Latakia. They were breathtaking. We tried to capture as many as possible with our cameras; but they just did not - could not - do it justice. I really enjoyed this castle and its surrounding countryside.

From here we headed down into the town of Latakia. We checked into a nice, cheap hotel and went out on the town.

Laodicea, Laodikeia or Laodiceia, (Turkish: Lazkiye; Latin: Laodicea ad Mare) is Syria's principle port. It played a very prominent part in the history of Syria, but now its main attraction is it's beaches - mmmmm - can't comment on that one; its money - everyone is loaded; and its affilation to western style culture. We did not know this at the time but Latakia is very similar to many cities in Lebanon. The first thing you notice upon arrival here is the difference in the way women dress and socialise. Gone are the burkhas and hajeebs; long black hair is freely flowing and tight denim and knee-length boots are the norm. It makes a refreshing change to see womens' ability to express themselves so liberally. Syrian women are equisitively beautiful and I don't blame them for wanting to no longer be stuck sweltering under the equivalent of a balaclave and full length trench-coat each and every day. I don't think the battle for sexually equality is by any means close to winning but you get the feeling there are clouds on the horizon; it is coming and it is going to change the face of the Middle East. I wish them the best of luck. Hanging out in Latakia was great fun and we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. We had a good room and even manged to catch American Beauty on the TV, however because of the censorship of films in Syria - particularly those of a sexual nature, most of the film was cut to buggery. I think Syrian people must have found it a bit odd, especially the scene at the end where the army general comes into the garage and tries it on with Kevin Spacey. In this version he just walks and in walks out; then takes a gun and shoots Kev in the back of the head. hmmmm... you can see how the continuity, not to mention plot, might get a little disjointed.

We crashed out and I woke up around 2am and went to take a leak. I couldn't be arsed to get dress so I nipped across to the toilet naked. As I finished I realised someone had checked into the other set of rooms and was in the kitchen making tea: note to oneself - If you don't fancy spending 20mins naked in a toilet - put some clothes on if you have to get up in the night.

Hama, the Assassins Castle, and the Magnificant Krak Des Chavaliers

November the 22nd.

We organised a day trip to two castles today. The first was Qala'at Ibn Wardan, in the Jebel Assyrian mountain range, more commonly known as the Assassin's castle.

We shared a taxi with Katie and a German guy - I have forgotten his name - it worked out pretty cheaply for us. The assassins castle is situated in the city of Masyaf. It is strange to see the castle looming up amidst the rural areas of the city that lie on the lower slopes of the jebel Assyria mountain range. We parked outside of it, just opposite a small barber's shop, and walked up the hill to the castle. We paid the usual entry fee and spent an hour or two exploring inside. It was quite and moderate castle by our standards. We are now old hands at castle exploration! But it has been renovated and has many nooks and crannies to crawl around in [I have fallen in love with exploring castles. They are such fun, and full of so many amazing highs, lows, and nooks and crannies to look around].

he main interest in the site is that it was used for some time by the Hashshashin cult. These were splinter faction of Shiite Muslims; annexed from Egypt they ventured into the Middle East and settled in Syria, Lebanon, Iran, and Iraq. They were rumored to have existed from the 8th Century AD. They were recorded as the Nizāriyya faction leaving Egypt in 1090 AD after a quarrel between ruling dynasty of the time. They occupied fortified settlements such as this castle. Their leader at the time was Hasan i Sabbah. He was an educated and charasmatic man and a ruthless enforcer of the Hashshasin creed. The Hashshashins were trained assassins with a reputation verging on the mystical; much the same as the ninpo or ninja of Japanese history. In fact assassin is derived from Hashshashin the etemology of the word has been traced back to hashish. There is much speculation of the links between the use of hashish and the Hashshasin cult. Many people believed that the assassins would first get whacked off their faces on hash, before heading out to complete their infiltration and assassination. This does seem to be absolute nonsense. Such missions would require one's faculties to be completely in the present. I don't think much in the way of stealth would be achieved tripping of one's face, red-eyed, and giggling with a craving for munchies. It would seem that the drug fuelled states - if this were true at all - were employed as conditioning techniques to promote loyalty and to brainwash the initiates. The cult saw their role as a rebellious one against the ruling Sunni factions whom they considered usurpers and unfair rulers. They finally eradicated during the Mongol invasion of the Middle East at the end of the 13th Century AD. It is a pretty amazing story though.

We finished exploring and headed back down to the taxi late that morning and then headed off for the highlight of today's trip - Krak des Chavaliers.

This location has always been a prime spot for some kind of fortified edifice - overseeing the Homs gap. It sits at the bottom of the mountain range known as the Jebel Assyria. A north-south Sierra which affectively splits the coast from access to inland. Hence the prime strategic location: Nothing, but nothing, gets past this place in a 100 km circumference. So whoever controls this pass, controls the trade route.

The crusaders first got hold of this place 1n 1099. The original fortress was built for the Emir of Aleppo. Raymond IV of Toulouse took it, but then discarded it in his race to conquer Jerusalem. It was reclaimed at various subsequent dates. The foundations and original keep were later expanded greatly and it was used as the headquarters for Knights Hospitaller during the crusades. The castle could hold nearly 3,000 soldiers and was thought to have been able to withstand a siege for up to 5 years. That is a lot of card playing time! It stood unconquered throughout the crusades. It was finally taken in 1271 by Barbars after he tricked the Crusaders into surrendering.

The approach to the castle is via a winding road that leads across the sides of the steep valley as you come down through the Homs pass. You can see the castle from miles away, perched atop of the valley pass, like a shephard surveying his flock. The flock in this case being the many towns and villages scattered around the valley. You don't really comprehend how enormous this place is until you get within a couple of miles. Then you begin to realise its scale. T E Lawrence referred to it as the most amazing medival castle in the world. You can see what he was banging on about immediately. The grandeur of the place oozes out of every turret. It is like someone has planted Camelot right in the middle of Syria.

In order to get into the main castle you must first wind your way through the 20 metre thick outer walls and passageways. Up through the stables and the barracks. These later additions to the fortications did not occur until the 12th century. once you have entered the castle proper. You can see the great keep rising above you. Surrounded on three sides by a glacis and a moat on the fourth side, this really is a awesome work of military architecture. Marcus, Katie, and I, spent the rest of the day climbing towers, exploring dungeons, and scaling walls. We found a fantastic secret passage, cunningly labelled with a massive sign saying 'Secret Passage'. At the bottom of it were a bunch of chairs and sofas. Which was interesting to say the least. We went up into the great keep and explored the Gothic cathederal, and the church, all leading off from the vast inner courtyard. We had a great, if not expansive, meal inside the south tower. Before climbing high onto the battlements to get an absolutely amazing view over the Jebel Assyria. Not to mention the Mediterranean, Lebanon, and the Golon Heights. It even started to rain, which was just brilliant, as we could watch it falling through the sun streaming down of the valley in the western sky.

We headed back down to our taxi as the rain really began to pour. On our way back down the hill a rainbow emerged. A perfect half circle, shimmering amidst the rain and sunshine. It has been a long time since I have seen such a perfect rainbow and we all jumped out and stood in the pouring rain trying to take a decent picture of it.

We got back in the evening and made use of the excellent wine facilities up the road. Per was not headed off again, so we all chilled out watching no-holds-barred cage-fighting on NBC Action and got toasted.

Hama first night

November 21st.

We left Palmyra this afternoon. Marcus had made a recovery so he was fit to travel. We were heading to Hama. Hama is a lovely town in from the coast in the West of Syria. It is famous for its waterwheels, known as Norias, which were used to draw water from the ancient viaducts to provide sanitation and irrigation.

Before 1982, Hama, was a vibrant, antiquated, and beautiful town. One of Syria's gems. [In more modern times, Syria was occupied by the Ottoman Empire until the end of the 1st World War, and then by the French during the 1920's. During the 50's and 60's the country went through a period of great instability, as a series of military coups were staged against civil rule, and political factions fought to assume control. after Syria backed the Black September retaliations in 1970, a bloodless coup was executed (excuse the pun) by the then minister of defence - Hafiz al-Asad - and an authocratic state was introduced. This led to a new constitution being effected which did not sit well with many people, and led to a schism. In 1982 this cuminated with an uprising by the Muslim Brotherhood, who were Sunni Muslims, and a vicious and bloody struggle was fought in the city of Hama] The outcome of this violent altercation not only led to the loss of many lives but also left much of the old city razed to the ground.

We headed to the bus station expecting to get a luxury bus to Hama. It turned there was aonly a servise only - and quite expensive to boot. Katie, Marcus, and I, travelled together. Jules headed to Damascus, and the rest of the people were heading either home or to new countries. Per was also supposed to be travelling to Hama but he was absent when we left.

We had a great trip to Hama. The people on the servise were really happy that we had three rucksacks the size of ourselves with us. We spent the whole time playing cards [no mean feat on a minibus] during which time Katie kept our spirits up with a her PMA (positive mental attitude) using phrases like 'we are all going to die'. Re: Syrian drivers.

Nevertheless we got to Homs in one piece and transferred and got to Hama. We checked into the Riad hotel, where we encountered the larger than life, and very friendly, Abdulla. If you are ever in Hama check him out!

We checked in and found we had the best rooms we had since arriving in the country. Huge, warm, cheap, Sky TV, and a bathroom in which you could sit in the bath and watch your TV from. Katie had been raving about getting a single room all the way and doing just this - then ended up stuck in a dorm. We got the double. Result!

We had a chilled evening in. We also bumped into Per there and decided to go for a lovely meal in a 5 star restaurant in the old town. Good God I ate four times my body weight. Your stomach is supposed to contain the size of your fist in volume. I ended up eating the size of my head - twice. After this we are decided to get a bottle of wine, which turned into several, and sit in and get drunk, it was a pretty chilled evening.

I must stop drinking several bottles of wine.

Palmyra the valley of the tombs and last day

November 20th.

I really must give up smoking crack...

The other people we met the day before got up at sunrise to visit the ruins. Not really being that insane just yet, we instead got up about 11am and went to visit the valley of the tombs. These are run as guided tours. You can only go at certain times because the museum has the keys. They are pretty big keys and the keymiester carries them around with him on the tour. It was handy that he was in our taxi. We seconded the mini-bus taxi from a group of Germans that had come down from Aleppo for the day to visit the tombs. The key-meister came with us. As did Jules, Katie, and Jussinta.

We first headed off to the tower of Elahbel, this is four storey multi-tombed edifice - located south of the city wall. I mentioned the Palmyrenes were very obsessed with death. Well they created large tombs for their deceased loved ones containing Sarcophagi. Actually to be specific, they created large multi-tombs. Tombs contained loculi: these were areas in the wall (not unlike a morgue) where sarcophagi could be slotted in, in vertical rows, the front of these sarcophagi were then decorated with pictures of the deceased (cash permitting) showin them acting out scenes from their life.

The view from the tower was amazing. I never used to mind heights as a kid, but I got a little freaked out by them in later life. However being in Syria has desensetised me somewhat. On top of this mutha, you can walk round the perimeter and look 30 metres straight down. Jessenta and I took each others pictures on the top on the corner. I was still not too happy about being so close to the edge.

We got chatting to a guy from Tunisia doing his PhD in archaeology in Paris. He was a cool dude and a great source of information on the sites we were seeing,

We headed off next to the Hypogeum of the three brothers, dodging the kaffiye selling locals we headed down to explore this tomb from AD 160-191. (that's the tomb not us). They didn't allow cameras in so I haven't got many pics from there. Katie snapped some sneaky ones though. The tomb gives a great insight into the importance of the funerary ritual in Palmyrene times. There are paintings containing many Hellenistic and Roman influences on the walls - using ancient stories and Gods from both cultures. The evil eye is shown there also, as is the ubiquitous blue sky with yellow stars as you see in so many byzantine depictions of heaven. Ridah, as was his name, also explained why so many of the faces on the sarchophagi and busts have noses, or faces, or heads missing. I originally thought the missing heads were from grave robbers, but it turns out that they were a result of Muslems defacing them [you may or may not know that Islam is a non-iconic religion: It does not condone the use of iconic depictions of God or of the prophets] well by defacing the Roman, Greek, and Christian, Gods, they were destroying the life force; the breath. In fact, many statues simply had the nose removed [you can see this everywhere in the Middle East and North Africa] as this was thought to be adequate to destroy the breath.

After this we trotted on home and I arranged to meet the other's to go to the Museum a bit later. Both Marcus and I had been ill at various times in Syria and Marcus was pretty bad today. He went to bed and I went to the Museum but missed the others. I spent a pleasant hour ambling around it. The mummies were well worth seeing as were the statuettes. Most of the information was in French, which I read better then I speak, so I muddled through.

After this I got dragooned into a taxi to take in the sunset from Qala'at Ibn Mann in a Taxi with Ridah, Katie, and Per. I did point out there was a storm going on but it didn't seem to matter much. So I found myself on a hill, in a storm, freezing my arse off, approximately around sunset. It got dark and then we went back and got drunk and smoked Nargile.

I really must give up pretending I have any self-discipline..

Palmyra exploring the ruins

November 19th

I really must give up drinking 12% beer...

A little history:

The ancient city of Palmyra is one of Syria's must see places of antiquity. Not only for its superb archaeological ruins of the Roman city that once stood here, but also because it boasts one of the largest, and most complete, temples in the Middle East: The temple of Bel.

Palmyra was, and still is, also known as Tadmor - the modern Hebrew name for this place. This title gives some clue to its history. The ancient city of Tadmore is referred to in the bible [in Chronicles 8:4 to be exact] and was thought to have been built by king Solomon himself. It has been further traced back to Babylonian tablets in the ancient city of Mari (see earlier blog) where it had the pre-Semitic name of Tadmur or Tadmor. The exact etymology of the word is a little uncertain but the Semitic name appears to be a corruption of this. The name Palmyra itself is of Greek origin - it means city of palms.

It was an important centre for trade in the network of cities that allowed merchants to travel between Persia and the Mediterranean. The Seleucids left the city mainly to itself, during their conquest of the Syria in 323BC. It grew and flourished independently for the next four centuries... until the Romans turned up. Being the historical equivalent of the Borg from StarTrek, the Romans immediately marched on Palmyra to occupy it. Interestingly enough, the Palmyrenes got word of this ahead of time and buggered off over the Euphrates. This kind of indicates that, at this time, most of the city was nomadic and could be removed and decamped at short notice! This was short lived though, and in the early part of the 1st century AD Palmyra became a Roman province, it retained a great deal of independence though, and its denizens enjoyed a very liberal rule under the Empire. In 121AD Hadrian named it Palmyra Hadriana and declared it a free city. This meant the citizens did not have to pay imperial taxes and also enjoyed equal status as Romans did. Life was good and trade prospered. Power shifted here in the 3rd century AD as the Sassanids, from the Persian empire, began to threaten Syria, and occupied the Tigris and the Euphrates. This led to a series of power struggles for control of the city which culminated in Queen Zenobia taking the throne in place of her assassinated husband, Odaenathus, [by his lovely, caring, nephew], Zenobia was quite some Queen. She was purported to be descended from Cleopatra, and equal do her in beauty, although she did not apparently share her appetite for sexual deviance. She was loved and admired greatly by her people, and during her reign created and extended the Palmyene Empire across Syria, nearly as far as Egypt itself.

The Romans were not too happy about this arrangement, and more than a little suspicious of Odaenathus's untimely decease. So they kicked off. Zenobia responded by giving it a bit of large and thus a brief war ensued. The Romans, of course, won. They besieged the city, and finally defeated Zenobia. Emperor Aurelien had her carted off to Rome as a trophy in golden chains, however it is believed she spent her remaining years as a predominant figure in Roman society -so her punishment didn't sound all that bad.

For the remaining Palmyrenes things didn't work out so well. The city was placed under martial law and became a barracks for the Roman legions in Syria. They were still more than a bit miffed and staged a rebellion in 372AD. Most of the inhabitants were massacred and the city was torched. Diocletion further expanded its fortifications but the city itself fell into ruins. In 636AD it fell to the Muslims under Khalid ibn Walid. A fortress was built above the ancient city it was used as a base for several centuries. It was finally abandoned in 1089AD after an earthquake, and it was left desolate until in the 17th century it was discovered to western history by two English merchants. It was not until the 1920s that large scale excavations began to take place. Work is still continuing today.

To access the ruins one simply walks out of town. There is no entry fee to the site itself - although certain areas within the ancient city charge an entrance fee. The main areas are distinctly divided into the Roman city, the temple of Bel, and the valley of the tombs. The Palmyrenes shared the same fascination and passion in funerary rites as their near by neighbours, the Egyptians: indeed mummification was also practiced in Palmyra. We decided to spend the first day exploring the Roman city. It was a cloudy day, which was unfortunate, as I imagine the ruins look ever more so spectacular in the sunshine, however in a converse fashion the cloud lent an ominous feel to the whole site which made it even more exciting to explore. The walk from the town took no time at all. Rather than being normal, we decided to take a roundabout route which took us to the outskirts of the site along the perimeter wall and then down to the end of the great colonnaded street. This took us to the opposite end of the Temple of Bel. To the camp of Diocletions, the Principia, and the temple of Allat, all in the shadow of the ever-watchful Qala'at Ibn Maan.

From here you can climb the watchtower and experience the amazing view along the decumanus. We then walked through the temple of Allat and onto the decumanus itself. Once on the ancient street you can begin to get a proper idea of just how vast this place was in its prime. Here we were hassled by a family of Bedouins. Bedouins are knights of the desert; renowned for their unsurpassed hospitality. Unfortunately this lot were just after your cash and we spent 10mins trying to get rid of kids who were trying to pickpocketed us.

We walked east along the decumanus, pausing to explore the Byzanine churches and the funerary temple. It is quite a walk down to the crossroads, where the famous tetrapylon stands: one of the most photographed sites in Palmyra. From here you can strike north to the nymphaeum (no, it's not where the nymphos used to live), and the temple of Baal-Shamin; or south to the Senate house, the theatre, and the agora.

We spent a good while lost amongst these amazing ruins before rejoining the massive Corinthian street that was leading down to the monumental arch. The view from this archway back along the colonnaded street is breathtaking. It is as though the whole city could at any moment become a bustling and lively place, full of merchants, traders, nomads, and soldiers from nearly two millennia ago.

After this we were pretty knackered, but we decided to push on and explore the Temple of Bel before sunset. This required an entrance fee but is well worth it. The temple is dedicated to the its namesake, a Babylonian God, the Romans knew him as Jupiter, and he was Zeus to the Greeks.

the Temple is enormous and in very good nick. Inside much of the excavations have been focused on the central enclosure, although to the west there is also altars and sunken porticoes. Around the outside of the perimeter enclosure was once a double colonnaded row of Corinthian columns. Many of the ones adorning the eastern wall have been recreated. It is a superb temple its magnificence still shines out even though it is much diminished from its days of glory.

night was beginning to fall by the time we left. We walked into town and bumped into Jules once more. Jules, you may recall, was the guy we met in Aleppo. He was with an eclectic party of travellers from Australia, Denmark, Switzerland, Korea, and Slovenia. We arranged to go out for a beer with them later on.

The later on beer turned out to be traditional Bedouin food in a restaurant in town. It was delicious and we followed it up with beer and nargile in the Pancake house. We were introduced to all of the party, some who we grew to know us friends, including the wickedly funny Katie, and the very funky Per.

I really must give up smoking nargile.

Palmyra first night

November 18th

Although I could scarcely contain my joy this morning, the impossible seemed to happen: Mr pipe thwacker was up at 7am once more. You cannot even begin to imagine my elation when I heard those dulcet tones reverberating around my head like a jack-hammer.We checked out pretty early and went to grab some breakfast before heading off. I had one beady eye on the look-out for a guy with a hammer - I was planning on nailing his testicles to heavy oak table - but unfortunately I could not locate him to express my gratitude. We met another really genuine guy who helped us get some fresh food, and sat and chatted to us, and then came to the station to help us organise our trip and even paid for our taxi. We tried to reimburse him but he refused. He said he knew how it felt to be in a foreign country as he was stuck in the UK trying to get to a conference in Geneva last year and no-one would help him. People's capacity for kindness never ceases to amaze me. Interestingly enough the tourist police (you have to submit your passports at most bus stations here) seemed to know the hotel we had been staying at before we told them. Big bruvva is wotchin'!

We then headed to Palmyra. The journey took around 2 1/2 hours so we got into town around 2pm.

We checked into a cool and relaxing hotel which was very cheap. After trekking around in the east of Syria we decided we need to rest for a while so we kicked back and took it easy for the afternoon. We had some food and chilled out.

We discovered a great pancake house around the corner from our hotel, and proceeded to stuff our faces.

In the evening we went out for a beer and some food. We ended up playing cards with two kids in the local restaurant. They joined in and played memory with us, which they were shockingly good at; unlike the pair of us, who were bloody awful. I couldn't even remember that it was my go. We then played them at snap. I don't want to take the moral high ground here but I feel it must be noted that all of them cheated and lowered the tone of the game. I played by the book and lost with dignity; and I am a better man for it.. the bunch of fecking crooks. The place we were in served some mad Danish exported lager called Faxe and was 12%. Oh, the Syrian government has blocked Facebook and Blogspot as they do not want the Syrian youth corrupted and infiltrated by the Zionists. Mmmm...

Dier-Ez-Zur, Dura Europos, and Mari

November 16th-18th

<16th>

We got into Dier-Ez-Zur pretty late last night. We checked into a reasonable hotel. The rooms were ok apart from someone had white-washed the the bedroom walls in some chalk based paint. We got it all over our rucksacks. What was immediately apparent when we got here was the complete lack of European tourists, which was very nice. The other thing I noticed straight off was the people were so friendly and so genuine. We went out exploring in the evening armed with our lonely planet; we opted for a Russian restaurant on the banks of the Euphrates. I think maybe it was launched into space to join the Mir space-station at some point; either that or the people writing this book never actually visited this town at all. There was a suspension bridge leading over the Euphrates as the book said. However on the far side there was no sign, nor indeed any remnants, of any Russian restaurant. We met a nice chap from Damascus who helped us hunt high and low for said restaurant. In the end we all had to give up. We ended up back by the hotel starving to death after walking around everywhere. We ate in a local cafe which was really good. No beer though. I was gagging for one; I am still finding it hard to shake off the stereotypical English lager swilling image. Burp!

17th Morn...

This morning started off well. Incredibly well in fact. We were woken up by someone banging a pipe. They were pretty keen on banging this pipe (and also pretty good at it), and proceeded to thwack it thus from about 7am to 8:30am. I have no idea what they achieved by doing this; apart from driving us batshit. But whatever they were attempting to do, I admire their dedication.

Although I desperately wanted to stay curled up in bed and listen to the sadistic pipe-banger all morning, we wanted to see two historical sites today: Dura Europos, and Mari. So we upped and out pretty early. We grabbed a load of fruit in the market, cheese, bread, and olives, from the bakers. I paid a mad old woman 5p for a huge bunch of, what I thought was, coriander but turned out to be flat parsley. We then got a Sharwarma and headed up to the bus station.

It was a beautiful sunny day and Dier-Ez-Zur was teeming and bustling with people. We got to the bus station and were promptly shunted off to the Tourist police who decided they were very interested in where we were going; probably as it took us right to the Iraqii border. We were made sit in the police office whilst the local constanbularly took absolutely no interest in us or our passports. We began to realise we were in for a long morning. Another bunch of guys came in, one looking like a character straight out of a James Bond movie with a glass eye and a huge trench coat, and began to question us. I was just beginning to think there is going to be an expensive largess involved here when two Slovenian guys came in kicking up a huge fuss because the police were detaining them. This was pretty fortuitous for us as we were just sitting around chilling out and being quiet. They were pretty cool guys but they were breaking one of the golden tenets of travelling: never, ever, give anyone a heap of shit, who a) in a position of authority and b) has cock all else to do for the whole day other than to make your life difficult. The police soon lost interest in us and started interrogating the Slovenians so we jumped on a servise to Abu Kamal. We were heading firstly to the archaeological site of Dura Europos aka Tell Selhiye.

Dura Europos is another one of Syria's hidden gems. Stuck out in the back of beyond, with almost no visitors poking their head's in, it is a Hellenistic/Roman fortress city, much of which is still undergoing large-scale excavations. The Seleucids founded Europos on the site of other settlements in approx 280BC taking also the Assyrian name of Dura - meaning fort. The city was built along an plateau that ends in a sheer 90metre wall that overlooks the Euphrates which provided a great natural defense. The Parthians claimed the city in 128BC and remained under their control until the Romans re-took it in AD165. Along with the mighty Palmyra, the city was integrated into an armormentarium of Roman frontier fortifications to keep the Persian empire at bay.

One of the the most fascinating things about Syria is the continuum, and harmony, of different cultures and religions. It is very much apparent in Christian and Muslim worship and you will often see Mosques and Churches juxtaposed in the same area. But historically, in places such as Dura Europos, you can see evidence of Roman temples, Greek Deities, Parthian altars, synagogues, and mosques side-by-side.

We got the driver to stop and let us off on the roadside as it was another 1km walk to the site. It was only when we alighted from the bus we realised how completely in the middle of nowhere we were. It was quite an interesting feeling being stuck in the back-of-beyond. As we hiked toward the site two guys in a 4x4 stopped and kindly gave us a lift. The ticket office tout was openly shocked to see tourists at the site. He was even more shocked to discover we were British. We soon realised why when we entered the site as we had the entire place to ourselves. Well, I say to ourselves. We did have to share it with a couple of thousand flies. They were quite friendly little insects though, and spent most of the time flying around my head. At one point I could barely even see there were so many of them. We sat down and tucked into the food we bought. It was pretty bland, but starving fat b*stards cannot be choosers, so we made do.

After lunch we spent a pleasant couple of hours wandering around this wonderful site. The edition of the lonely planet we have is probably 4 or 5 years out in some places. So places like Dura Europos are mentioned in passing, with maybe a half a paragraph dedicated to it. The reality is the site is expansive, virtually unvisited by European tourists, and so much fun to explore. Many of the temples are still being excavated and just the foundations remain. as you walk through the ruins you approach the edge of the fortress and you discover that an entire new area has been excavated on the east side of the city. Not only this but further to the North-East is the remains of the new citadel. You can climb up inside of here and get a gobsmacking view over the Euphrates; if you can get the flies out of your face for two minutes that is.

We were quite tired, and quite hot, after this, but we decided to push on to Mari - Tell Hariri as the Syrians know it. Unfortunately, like so many eastern archaeological sites, it is even more in the middle of nowhere than Dura Europos. So we had to hitch. We got a lift surprisingly quickly. Ok, the lift was in a ten ton oil-tanker, but it was still quicker than walking. The driver was a very chilled out guy. He was on his way to Iraq. He was also a ginga. It is surprising how many red-headed people we have met in Syria. It could not have been an influx of those virtuous crusader types - as we all know them to be paragons of chastity and decency.. so it is a wonder where they came from. Maybe Genghis Khan was secretly of the carrottesque persuasion. That would explain the hat... Our erstwhile driver and host hammered it through the Syrian desert, passing through peaceful and idyllic towns and villages, beeping and waving at several people on the way. It was a very relaxing, if not surreal, sojourn in the truck on the way to Mari, perched it the cabin of a vehicle that wouldn't have looked out of place on the set of a Mad-Max film.

We got a little worried at one point that we may have over shot so we tried to confirm with our driver. He happily confirmed that we were just about to cross the border into Iraq. It transpired he was just messing with us, and he was pretty amused to see the look on our faces. it is good to see how humour is universal; oh how we guffawed!

He dropped us at the site and said he'd pick us up at 5pm if we were around to take us back. We hiked the kilometer or so up to Mari to find the friendly gentlemen with the 4x4 sitting in the tent taking in the afternoon air. It was nice to see the Syrian government taking such an interest in our welfare.

Mari was once a vibrant Mesopotamian city dating back to 3000BC and lies 10km north of Abu Kamal. The site has remains of the city from various dates around this time, however the most important excavations going on are of the palace of Zimri-Lim, the eponymously entitled palace of the ruler who reigned in the 18th Century BC. Mari was the focal point of the most important trade routes across Syria and into Mesopotamia. Even in ancient times, the royal temple was vast, measuring 200m by 120m with over 300 rooms. There is a French team of archaeologists currently working on the site and the entire temple has been placed undercover to protect it from the elements. The city was destroyed in 1758BC by the Babylonians. Until this time it stood, and was occupied, for well over a millennium. One of the main unique points of interest, of this site, is the ceramics that have been uncovered in and around it. Most of these have been swiped to be put on display in Damascus, and in the Louvre. To the north east of the palace lies the remains of domestic houses, several other temples and a ziggurat - a kind of Mesopotamian pyramid.

This was by no means the most aesthetically stimulating site I have ever visited, however Syria, I am beginning to realise, has so many unexploited and exciting places to explore, that are not overrun with streams of tourists, driving each other, and you, nuts. It brought to my mind the poem, by Shelley: Ozymandias. King of Kings! For anyone that has ever been to Egypt It is something much more apropos to the majesty and splendour, and of course the decline, of such an ancient civilization. But out here on the perimeter, there isn't two or three thousand other people. Out here there is just you, and the desert. As we made to leave Mari, the sun was just setting over the desert. It was a pretty amazing sunset and we got some great pictures.

OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,

The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains: round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

We trekked back to the main road, and to our great surprise, we found the lovely Syrian government guys, who insisted on securing us a lift back to Deir-Ez-Zur. They were so insistent, that they stuck on us on a servise and left two old ladies - who'd been hitching since before us - standing on the roadside so we could get on; I think they wanted to avoid any diplomatic incidents on the border.

We got back into Dier-Ez-Zur and naively, and somewhat optimistically, went hunting for what the Lonely Planet described as the 'best kebab in Syria'. Yup. We had all the fun trying to find that place. I think we walked over 2K out of town looking for it. No. It wasn't there. Marcus actually wanted to continue. neither was the bar. Oh no. No chance me old china plate. That was right out. My feet were also right out at that point. We did stumble on a fantastic restaurant though, that served pretty good kebabs and Amistal beer. Result!

Rasafa and Qala'at Jabar

November 16th

We planned to use Raqqa as a base to visit the desert fortresses - Qala'at Jabar, Qala'at Najm, and Rasafa, however we got up late, and by the time we got our act together it was quite late. Also because we are in winter, the days are much shorter and the sun sets around 5pm This meant we had to skip Qala'at Najm. We hired out a minibus for the day after haggling with a whole bunch of drivers. They really enjoyed trying to rip us off and we drew quite a crowd. We got the price down to an acceptable amount in the end though. We ended up in the cheesiest minibus I have been in yet. It had leopard skin interior and pictures on the ceiling. It also had curtains with tassels on. Our bus driver spent the day with us wondering around and taking photos. I think he enjoyed it more than we did. Our first stop was the deserted walled city of Rasafa. It lies 25km south of the Euphrates highway. It is a very remote location and is basically in the middle of the desert. It makes it an even more evocative location to spend some time at.

Like most places in Syria, remains of settlements have been found dating modern history. Historical evidence suggests it was once an Assyrian town. Diocletion Romanised the place in the 3rd century AD - maybe as an outpost against the Persians. It was also a trade route, and had an established connection to Palmyra. It was further fortified by that Byzantine fun-boy, Justinian. By the 5th century AD it had become an important place of Christian worship and a palatial basilica was erected within the city. As power shifted through Syria in the wake of the Muslim empire, thus the city became occupied by one Hishamabd-al-Malek who built a mosque here and a and even more palatial palace residence. Not long after his death it was razed to the ground by Baghdad Arabs known as Abbasids. The city never really recovered from that and slowly declined until the 13th century when the Mongols swept through Asia; causing much pant wetting and prompting the city to be abandoned completely.

It is quite a sight to see as you drive up to it. Because it is such a flat area you can see it looming out of the desert from a long way off. A great deal of the city still remains un-excavated. But the parts that are, are amazing. Much of the exterior wall of the city is still intact. The whole site is enclosed in a 400m by 500m Quadrangular wall. A big wall. The sort of wall you could spend a very long time trying to breach. It was great to wander around at take in, however, the best part of this, like so many other beautiful archaeological sites in Syria, there is hardly anyone else here. You get the school trips of Syrian children, or tour groups from Iraq, Russian tourists, and French and Belgian, but even these are few and far between. You have the entire site to yourself, and nowhere is cordoned off, or has barriers in place. You can climb up very dodgy steps and scramble across very loose stones on top of very high walls. It is a little scary in some places, and of course you have a responsibility not to deface, or damage these antiquited locations.

s. It is a great experience though; the freedom to explore. We were befriended by a bunch of local kids who showed us some really cool places on the site. I paid them in nuts. You many remember I purchased a kilo of them in Aleppo. Well they turned out to be quite a handy form of baksheesh. I think me in five or ten years time when this site is properly excavated it will be the most amazing place to visit; and probably overrun by tourists. Right now it is simply amazing and felt somewhat, admittedly spuriously, pristine in a strange way.

The kids also introduced us to the vast underground cisterns, which you enter through a tiny whole in the ground. It was a most excellent morning and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

The second site we visited was the desert fortress of Qal'at Jabaar on the shore of lake al-Assad. This beatiful lake stretches out before you as you approach the castle, shimmering azure blue in the sun-shine. The mighty Euphrates flows into this lake from the North. Syria has also built a huge dam here

in order to regulate the flow of the Euphrates. There is currently a bit of a hoo-hah going on as Turkey have also been building dams which has directly affected water flow. Turkey has put this down to natural causes but this is as believable as a man selling you tartan paint. It is a constant bone of contention between the two countries and Syria is suffering from extreme water shortages in general. The castle itself was a bit of a let down once we got inside. It was impressive enough on approach, but once you have climbed up inside of it, sparse ruins remain. What is standing, at present, looks to be completely rebuilt. The top of the castle looked like a building site. It just lacked the ubiquitous hairy arse sticking up out of the rubble. The views, however, over al-Assad, were spectacular and it was a great location to sit and watch the sun go down. The castle is one of several strategic placed Qal'ats throughout Syria. Some are Byzantine, some Muslim, some built to provide bases in the war against the Crusaders, some built by the Crusaders themselves. This one was built long before the arrival of Islam, and was later modified by the Nur a Din's forces in the Holy Wars.

We got back into Raqqa just after sunset. We had planned to stay another night, but we just couldn't hack it. I really would have experienced much greater joy by nailing my testicles to the table, and since I didn't have the nails or the hammer we bit the bullet and left on a servise to Dier Ez-Zur.

Aleppo final day, citadel and Raqqa

November 15th... Happy Birthday Dad!

We spent this morning exploring the last part of the old city in Aleppo: the Citadel. This magnificent fortification towers over the Old City. A monolithic testament to a by-gone age. It no longer has a military function and now serves mainly as a tourist attraction. But once this place was a repository for Muslims in the Crusade wars. Fortifications existed here since time immemorial (remains of a temple from the 10th Century BC have been discovered) but the first large fortress was built by the Seleucids in the 4th Century BC. It was in the 10th Century AD that the moat was first dug-out. The first impression you get when you see the citadel is of immeasurable size and of power. It is vast and very imposing. Two thirds of the lower citadel are encased in a glacis, which is a kind of stone sloped base. The moat, which is completely dry now is 20m deep and 30m wide. It is pretty huge; in fact everything about this place is grandiose. We paid our entrance fee and started across the bridge from the south to the great keep. The bridge is designed to only allow six or seven people abreast. This would severely impair any invaders trying to mobilize an army sufficient to mount an attack on the keep. If that wasn't enough, and it appears it wasn't, a bastion tower was later added to the east to allow archers to flank the slim crossing. You could feel The hospitality oozing out of every arrow-slit. As we made our way up to the keep a whole party of school-kids descended on us from out of the castle, like a river of energy, screaming 'mahabar', 'bonjour', 'hello', and shaking our hands. After five minutes I was exhausted and, not for the first time, silently saluted the school-teachers who had to put up with them everyday; mind you they were angrily slapping the faces off most of them. It is good to see corporal punishment is alive and kicking [no pun intended] in Syria.

The keep to the citadel is a feat of architecture, not to mention engineering, in itself. It was designed with the entrance at a sharp right-angle to a narrow, but extremely high, set of double doors. This was to stop any attacking force using a battering ram. In addition, high up in the ramparts, were machicolations [what a great word] holes for pouring oil (boiling of course), tar, rocks, and raining down arrows. The whole keep was designed this way. As you go further inward you are channeled through a series of narrow corridors, each right-angled and contained, each with openings in the roof and walls to allow defensive attacks. I have not done any research to see if this fortification was ever breached. I would be very surprised though. We spend a pleasant morning wondering around the Citadel. Most of the area atop the citadel contains ruins from the Mamluk era around the 12th Century AD. These include a hammam, a palace, and cisterns and the blood dungeon. They are very dark and absolutely minging. I was feeling thoroughly depressed after spending just 10mins down there, and I had a torch with me.

We sat atop the Citadel with an amazing view of the sprawling metropolis that is Aleppo and took tea in a cute little cafe that was once Ottoman barracks. We then wondered down through the beautiful Mosque of Abraham where it is purported the head of St John the Baptist is interred [what another one? Yes. Pay attention at the back. His bonny bonce is all over the place].

We wrapped things up in Aleppo and got an evening bus to Raqqa. It was an uneventful journey but we were pretty tired when we rolled in to our destination. We soon realised two things pretty soon after we got here. Firstly the place is a shit-hole - every country has pass through towns and cities, the sort of places that just have no soul; well Raqqa is one of Syria's towns that fit this bill - and secondly the guide for Syria is not only four years old but it is also less than accurate about maps and where things are on it. To wit we spent 20mins wondering around the same block looking for a hotel that didn't exist. We got dragged into some shop by a very happy, albeit demented, local guy to talk to some bloke who, as far as I can remember, was trying to sell us kid's shoes. We finally checked into a reasonable place. It was pretty dead though. The rooms were sparse but the beds were clean. Here we also had our first experience of Syrian hotel beds. These ubiquitous little beauties are in hotels all over the country [incidentally you don't have a Gideon's Q'uran in the bedside cabinet in case you were wondering] they seem to be fashioned out of man-sized caskets containing lumps of sand. The shower looked like the basement location from the movie Saw. All in all it I was pretty happy with the place.

We went out for dinner - finally choosing a local place doing Shish Tawouk after believing the LP and walking around for half an hour looking for a restaurant that didn't exist. I was too tired to even watch the half-cacked TV in our room after that.