Travels, Part II: Syria

Mellifluous reader –

I’m pleased to bring you the second of two installments recounting the more salient exploits of my weeks spent traveling outside of Cairo. This entry’s a bit long, so bear with me.

A friend from my study abroad program and I, having traveled from Cairo up to Amman, Jordan together, decided to head up to Syria in tandem so we could team up, watch for traps, etc. Joking aside, I do admit to some initial apprehension at the prospect of going to Damascus, being that Syria has been considered a state sponsor of terrorism since 1979, and has been on the U.S. State Department’s travel warning list for years. However, several friends who have lived in Syria assured me of my safety, and explained that the only tangible result of strained U.S. relations with Syria is that it takes longer for Americans to cross the border. Strolling along the streets of Damascus, they said, felt safer than walking around some U.S. cities.

Undaunted, then, my friend and I left Amman at 6:00AM in a cab bound for the Syrian border. We reached the border after an hour, and it took us only fifteen minutes to leave the Jordanian side, allowing for time at the border to pay the “exit tax” (which should be more accurately called the “foreigner tax”). We got to the Syrian side at about 8:00AM, in plenty of time to begin the farce reserved for any American who attempts to enter Syria without arranging a visa ahead of time. We had to fill out several forms detailing exactly where in Syria we would be visiting, hotel addresses, the amount of time we expected to be in Syria, our reasons for visiting, etc. We then handed these forms to the border guards, along with our passports and student IDs. Now the fun could begin: U.S. citizens who apply for a tourist visa at the Syrian border can expect to wait a minimum of three hours before they receive word that their request has been approved. That was how long my friend and I ended up having to wait. We were lucky. I have heard of people waiting as long as twelve hours for visa approval (despite the wait, I’ve never heard of anyone having their request denied). We flagged down a cab bound for Damascus at noon.

The border madness was the least pleasant part of my Syrian experience; even so, it wasn’t that bad. Overall, I would rate my travels in Syria at 9 out of a possible 10. Syria is absolutely gorgeous, and it’s far north enough that the weather is pleasant even in the summer. Riding buses through the countryside is a treat because Syrian topography is surprisingly green. It even rained one afternoon during a bus ride from Hama down to Damascus. As far as touristy things go, the mosques and markets (souqs) are of course beautiful and have been around for hundreds of years. After two or three mosques, though, I was sort of mosque-d out and ready to see something different (those of you who have traveled in Europe may have experienced similar fatigue with regard to castles).

By far, the best part of the Syrian leg of my travels was spending three days in Aleppo, a city of about three million in the northeast. It’s fairly close to the Turkish border, so the atmosphere has a distinctly European feel to it: narrow cobblestone passageways, verdant trellises, Victorian street lamps, old churches in the Christian quarter, etc. We had fantastic food for surprisingly little money, surrounded by stone walls covered in ivy. The first night there, I indulged my raw meat fetish by eating kibbeh nayyeh, a dish of raw lamb meat and spices, to be spread on crackers (or, in our case, pita chunks). I also discovered what’s called krem thoum (garlic cream) in Arabic. As the name suggests, it’s essentially a cream base with loads of garlic, in addition to some lemon and salt, to be used as a pita dip. I have since found a restaurant in Cairo which serves it, and I’m putting away about half of my monthly stipend to finance my new krem thoum habit.

The most culturally intriguing thing about Syria is that several long-lasting, powerful civilizations of the ancient Near East successively claimed for themselves the land comprising modern-day Syria. An hour spent walking in Old Damascus or Aleppo reveals Roman, Christian, and Islamic architectural and artistic influences layered one atop the other. This unique diversity has continued into the modern period. One of my favorite examples of this is the presence of shop signs and street markers written in both Arabic and Armenian in the Christian quarter. During the Armenian genocide in the 1910s, thousands of refugees fled to Syria and other countries, leading to the presence of a large Christian-Armenian population in Damascus and elsewhere. The bilingual signs stand as a reminder of this, one example among many of the linguistic and cultural coexistence which has characterized Syria for literally thousands of years.

Thus ended my two and one half weeks of travel in the region. I took a bus straight from Damascus down to Aqaba, a 12-hour ordeal which was matched only by the frustration of having to wait twelve more hours at the Aqaba port before the ferry left for Nuweiba, Egypt. When the police began to load the ferry, the thousands of tired, hungry masses (who had also been waiting half the day) began to scatter like animals and run amok. I knew I was not in Kansas anymore when the cops took out their blackjacks and started threatening bodily harm if people didn’t chill out. I would only recommend the experience of taking this ferry if you want to see the sociology of a developing country at its worst; otherwise, grab a plane from Damascus or Istanbul back to Cairo. Once in Nuweiba, I boarded another bus bound for Cairo, where I arrived safe and sound three weeks ago.

And there you have it! I’ve omitted a lot from this account, so specific questions are always welcome. Next week, we’ll have more updates on coursework, Cairo, and other such madness.

Salaam,

K