Just Get Me Mad ...

... and I'll cross any landborder on foot!


I entered Syria on foot.


There are certain things I don't like to take too easy. I tried to get the Syrian visa in Cairo unsuccessfully, then everybody I met along the way coming overland through Syria told me they had no problem getting their visa at the border. Different staff people at the hotel in Amman told me the same. I felt relieved. And so I got on a shared car from Amman to Damascus. A not too expensive luxury - around 15 USD - but regarded as faster and more convenient than a normal bus which costs about 10USD. That went so smooth - maybe it was my lucky day, I thought :-)

The people I shared the ride with were Jordanians and Syrians. They went through the formalities at the border in no-time. I was told by the grumpy officer I could not get a visa. I insisted. I stayed. I got my big backpack out of the car trunk when the driver put pressure on me. He was eager to get to Damascus and then return to Amman. There was no point in further arguing with him. Damn!
Maybe it wasn't my lucky day, I thought this time ...

Sure enough about 1 hour later and 56USD less I got a visa with no other comment or trouble. I just sat on a chair and waited patiently. But now I had no means of transportation. I hauled my big pack on my back and the small one on my chest and walked into Syria. I was very angry.

A couple hundred meters further a car offered to give me a ride to Damascus for 5USD. At least that's what the negociated price looked like to me after the guy repeatedly showed me one hand and every time I repeated "5 dollars, right?" he just nodded. Hmmm, maybe it was my lucky day I thought again...

Fortunately, some authority stopped us within another couple hundred meters and looked at my passport, talked to the guy and asked me where I was going to and how much I was going to pay. I told him my story only to find out that I had negociated my fare for 50 dollars. "Fifty dollars?!!!" I jumped out of the car outraged, opened the trunk and pulled out my pack. "No way 50 dollars! This is ridiculous! Damn I had already paid my way to Damascus. 50 dollars!!!" I was in rage. A few more guys - drivers of waiting around cars and taxis - gathered around us driven by curiosity. "You know what, I'll walk to Damascus!!!" I put on my packs and started walking away still in rage. The men just stood there with gaping mouths looking at me walk away.
This clearly wasn't my lucky day!

It took me a couple hundred meters more till the image of those men reached my brain consciously and I started to laugh by myself. I was still laughing out loud when a while later I saw the big sign: Damascus 108km. Damn! My first thought was: "My sandals won't hold all the way." But I had no choice by now. I kept walking. Then it occured to me that the sign also said Dara'a 14 km and it dawned upon me... Yes, Dara'a was the border town where I could get on a bus to Damascus. Well, I hopefully could walk all the way to there at least.

After meeting with a herd of sheep on the highway which blissfully ignored me (including the 2 shepherds busy to keep their animals off the lanes) a motorcycle stopped on the roadside ahead of me. The guys waited for me curious to find out where I was heading to. So when I reached them they asked their question and I just said "Damascus" with a grin on my face. I can't really describe the expression on their faces but they took off speechless and I started laughing again.

I had walked for about 2 kilometers. It was hot and I was shrinking under the weight of my pack in the scorching sun when a car stopped right before entering the highway and waited for me. The young guy told me to get in the car. "How much?" I asked. "No money" he replied. Hmmm, I got into the car. Maybe I was lucky in the end.

The car was fairly new and very clean. The guy was young and chubby with a soft look. His English was reduced to only very few words so he started to tell me stories in Arabic. I was sitting comfortably by now thinking how many turns of luck today and that it might still be my lucky day when I suddenly picked up the word "sex". I pretended not to understand, even when he repeated the phrase. I just shrugged my shoulders. After a short break he picked up the topic again this time pointing to the different body parts. I couldn't play stupid anymore so I turned to him angry and offended. "No way." I replied calmly and firmly. "You stop the car right here and I get off." I accompanied my words with clear firm gestures. He tried again "Kissing?" "You stop right here and I get off." My smile had vanished and my expression was - I presume - offended and grim. He blushed and started to apologize.

For the next 10km or so to the bus station in Dera'a he kept saying "I'm sorry, too" and asking, begging me to smile again. He was really sorry and feeling miserable and I actually felt sorry for him after a while. I could have released him from his misery with a smile or a friendly gesture, but I decided to have him learn this lesson and so played the offended woman role to the end. He dropped me off at the bus station without taking any money and saying "I'm sorry, too" for good-bye. I can't stop smiling even now thinking of his repeated "I'm sorry, too"s. 'Cause I wasn't :-)

I got on a minibus to Damascus thinking that maybe it was my lucky day in spite of all trouble ...

I had no Syrian money. I showed the driver before boarding that I had a 5JD note, a lot more than the fare and he seemed ok with that. But then on the bus there were 2 men sitting behind me who were very nice and helpful. The younger one - in his fifties - spoke some English and helped interpret. They ended up exchanging my 5dinars for Syrian money and I think they paid my fare, too, because they didn't let me pay. When they got off at the train station in Damascus - they were going home to Aleppo - and I said good-bye and thanked them, the younger man said "I am from Palestine". And I was left to think whether the nice people I will meet in Syria will be native Syrians or from elsewhere :-)

I was in Damascus but where exactly was impossible to find out. I asked for a reference and got some vague answer, therefore I started walking following my gut feeling. I have nothing against getting on a cab but I hate being ripped off. Therefore most of the time I preferred walking. Well, after quite a while I tried getting directions again but unsuccessfully. The people just stopped a taxi for me and I got on. When we reached the center area where I could identify streets and places based on the map I had studied in depth I asked the driver to drop me off. He had no clue where the small hotel was and also could not understand the street name. There was no point in having him drive me around clueless. I felt quite frustrated. It wasn't my lucky day...

I know for sure that whenever I am angry or frustrated or pissed off I make errors. Especially when it comes to paying attention to some details. This time I went in the wrong direction, then returned, then went back and when I asked some locals for directions I only got completely confused. They sent me off in the wrong direction, worse than expected. My gut feeling was telling me that it was wrong but I tried to follow my confused brain. And all this time I was about 5-10 minutes walk away from the place. About an hour later I had no choice but to get on a second taxi. It was getting dark, I was feeling exhausted and nobody had been helpful.

This time the taxi driver managed to get me to the right place within 2 minutes. He also charged me 5 times more for this short ride than the other one had for the 20 minutes ride. Part of the fun in Syria, especially if you don't feel like haggling.

At the hotel the staff was not just un-welcoming, but I'd even say rude. Blaah, what a disappointing start in Syria :-(

The prices given in Lonely Planet - terribly outdated - were by now double, triple or more in most places. Therefore, I ended up on the rooftop here in Damascus, which I actually didn't mind.

After a shower I went for a short scouting tour in the area. It was dark but the busy city center was close by with its high-end expensive area, banks, nice shops and restaurants. I could not get any ATM to work and I was hungry. All I had left were 200 Syrian pounds (approx. 4USD) and I was happy to find a small local place nearby the hotel where I could eat a sandwich and drink a tea for 100pounds.

When I slipped into my sleeping bag that night I could not help but think that, in the end, it had been a lucky day. Everything worked out well with all the twists and turns. So why complain: it was my lucky day!