Syria Border Crossing

I opted to take an overnight bus from Goreme to Aleppo. The bus departed at 8pm in the evening making numerous stops along the way one of which required me to wait a few hours at a frigid bus station in Keysari. The bus ride was uneventful and around 11am the next day I arrived at the Syrian border. I was asked to exit the bus with the driver and enter a building that handles foreign entries. Upon entering the building I was greeted by numerous pics of President Bashar Al-Asaad, some of them having stuffed red valentines hearts with english writing that read, “I love you” hanging from the frames…

The bus driver led me to a small window at the end of the building where a photocopy of my passport was made (something I would learn is done everywhere I go). After collecting the pic copy I was ushered by the driver to a small room on the other side of the arrivals building where I sat across from a police officer who opened my passport and began asking questions. He asked my name, then asked why I had come to Syria to which I replied “I am on holiday.” He asked again why I had come to Syria and I replied, “I am on vacation” as I assumed he did not comprehend what I had meant by “holiday.” In his broken english he sternly asked me why I was coming to Syria–”holiday or vacation.” Perplexed I responded, “vacation.” He then asked me why if I am on vacation I had stated I was here for “holiday.” It was difficult for me not display my amusement at this ridiculous exchange, but then he spoke passable English and I talk no Arabic. I remained quiet opting not to answer out of fear that I would cause further misunderstanding. It worked as he changed his line of questioning. “Where are you going?” the officer asked. “Aleppo.” I responded. “Where are you staying?” the officer asked. “Backpacker hotel.” I responded. “There is no place called backpacker hotel.” stated the officer. With this I switched on my kindle, looked up the lodging section within my Lonely Planet guidebook, and selected a hotel name. The officer asked me to take a seat and 15 minutes later I was pulled into a small area by another officer who repeated the same line of questioning–this officer much more intense than the first as he chose not to break eye contact. Five minutes later my visa was stamped and I left the building to board my bus. A few minutes after boarding the bus the police boarded and removed two Polish backpackers whose visas had been denied then asked for me and a Brit to hand over our passports. The officer looked at the Brit (Francis) and said, “you from England…very good. Welcome.” The same officer then turned towards me and said, “you from America” and while glaring tossed the passport at me. After leaving me to walk towards the back of the bus the officer returned, stopped behind me and elbowed the back of my head before exiting the bus. The bus door closed and I was on my way to Aleppo–Welcome to Syria.

Thirty minutes after leaving the border en route to Aleppo the bus came to screeching halt. Thinking the bus had hit a automobile I stepped outside and found that the front axel had completely come apart and the bus would not be leaving anytime soon. I shared a minibus to Aleppo with the Brit to a standard backpacker hotel called “Tourist Hotel”. We shared a double room (saves money) then set out to have lunch and see the sites. After a full day that consisted of exploring the old christian quarter, viewing the citadel and walking through the souk we retired to our room for a good night of sleep before departing on a morning bus for Hama.

The bus ride to Hama was uneventful and upon arrival me and the Brit each booked a room at the Hotel Riad. An afternoon tour was available so both Francis (the Brit) and a great couple from Hungary joined me on the tour of an old Byzantine era church and what they call call beehive homes. Frankly neither site was worth seeing, but for the first time during my travels I enjoyed chatting with fellow travelers–solo travel can be quite lonely. After returning we all walked around Hama viewing the water wheels, tasting street food (fuul) and having dinner followed by dessert at a local shop that specializes in a tubular roll of cheese that had the consistency of dough filled with sweet cream and topped with ice cream and pistachio shavings. While eating dessert Nic (one part of the Hungarian couple) was asked by the man behind the counter where each of us was from. The man behind the counter, upon hearing that I was American, pulled out a toy machine gun from behind the counter, aimed it me, and fired it repeatedly while laughing. Somewhat uncomfortable I made my way back to the hotel and slept.

The next day a few of us booked a driver (about 10 dollars each) to drive us to St. George Monastery, an old citadel and the Krac des Chevaliers. After viewing all sites (Krac des Chevaliers was brilliant) the brit and I were dropped off at a bus station 5km from Homs where I would book a bus to Damascus. The bus ride included a motion picture in Arabic that was about an Arab foursome who had been slighted by the American government so they conspire to overtake an American base in Iraq. I arrived in Damascus tired, found a room in the old city then went to bed. This morning was the first time I’d slept in this entire trip. Well rested I’ll now spend the next couple days exploring this city before departing for Amman where I get to finally see Clare again!

More Source:

Category:Border crossings of Syria - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Submited at Monday, November 22nd, 2010 at 6:00 pm on Middle East by john
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