June 10, 2009 – Day 167 – Damascus, Syria

“What do you mean you won’t take us to Syria?” We were both flabbergasted at the idea of not being able to get a bus to Damascus. We had tried nearly 10 bus companies and none would take us even just to the Syrian border because we are Americans. Lucky for us, we found one company who didn’t speak enough English for us to explain that it would take a long time so they took us to the border, but when they were told by border officials just how long it would take for us to get visas we were promptly kicked off.

For Americans, getting a Syrian visa is a major pain in the ass and usually involves being sternly directed to at least 4 seperate buildings who then direct you back to the previous 2 buildings who tell you they have no idea why you’re in their building so you go back to the first building who tells you that you didn’t need to go to any of those other places at all and gives you an application form. Once you fill it out (2.5 minutes, maximum) you will then spend no less than 4-6 hours, sometimes more, sitting at sweaty, fly infested border offices waiting on someone to shout your name from behind a muffling glass window thereby indicating that your application has been faxed back from Damascus and you are now free to go about your merry business, unless of course your visa app has been denied. Lucky for us, ours were issued in a mere 3 hours because some poor saps had already been waiting for 3 hours when we arrived and our applications were lumped in with theirs in the return fax. Needless to say, they weren’t very happy that we had only been waiting half the time they had.

So then came the matter of trying to get away from the border and actually into Damascus. We asked around the parking lot where several tour buses were waiting to get their customers’ paperwork back (about half an hour for locals) and within 15 minutes we were on a new bus going to Damascus. We made some friends; 3 old local men who wanted to chat with us (well, with Saben) but spoke no English. Saben knew enough Arabic to have a very basic conversation but bascially there was much smiling and laughing and then sharing of dates that one man had brought along, in a little black trash bag. We politely refused since we both had awfuly dirty hands, not having a chance to wash all day at the border, but the man would not be put off. In the end, he nearly pushed the dates into our mouths (no joke!) and as we were eating the first ones, he insisted we take a handful more.

Travel Tip:

Just say yes! If someone offers to share something with you, it’s best to accept. Of course, use your common sense: If someone wants to give you a terrible venereal disease, go ahead and say “no thanks” but if it’s just a little piece of fruit or a free bowl of rice pudding from the waiter, just take it with a smile and polite Arabic “thank you” (sounds like “shook-ron”) no matter how nasty it looks.

Anyway, we got into Damascus rather late in the afternoon. And had no idea of where or what part of town we could find a place to stay so we just had the taxi drop us “downtown.” We walked around for an hour or so, realized everything was far more expensive than we expected, and went back to the first (cheapest) place we checked. We had dinner at a little falafel place that wasn’t very good (old bread and something off about the hummus) and spent the evening adjusting to the surroundings, which are surprisingly different from Jordan and Egypt both.

Travel Tip:

When you roll into the bus station at Damascus, skip the offers of the taxis waiting inside the bus station and walk 3 minutes down the highway (there’s a big sidewalk along the side) and hail a taxi from the highway. Ask for the meter and it will be unbelievably cheaper than taking one from inside the bus terminal. Ours was a third of the bargined down price.