Just before the shit hit the fan

The crossing into Jordan from Egypt was an experience in passing to order from the chaotic. Passing from Jordan into Syria was an experience of passing into the grim and ominous. A mined no-man's land separates the 2 countries at the Ar Ramtha border crossing, the border guards are armed with machine guns, bribes had to be paid - slipped into passports before passing into Daraa, a decrepit, rubbish filled town overlooked by billboards and posters of the smirking Bashar Al-Assad. You know he's a despot when he plasters his face all over the place. Our first impression of foreboding proved to be justified when the country later tore itself apart in civil war, with Daraa being at the start of it all in mid-March, just a month after we left.

Thankfully after the border crossing the countryside opened out into large olive groves on the drive to Bosra. Some of the farmsteads even looked propsperous. A feature of the countryside is rubble. From building work likely, but looking as if it's never disposed of - just pushed into piles everywhere.

The Syrian desert from the Bagdad Cafe, about halfway to Palmyra from Damascus.

Bosra

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Bosra once the capital of the Roman province of Arabia and a key Roman fortress east of the Jordan River. It was situated at the crossroads of trade routes, and was a stop-off point for Muslim pilgrims heading to Mecca and Medina. A bit glum and down at heel in modern times, its main feature is the well preserved Roman amphitheatre.

A free standing amphitheatre from the 2nd century AD that can seat 15,000. In great condition and the acoustics match the standard of the masonry. You can hear people on the stage from the back row seats.

Ruins adjoing the amphitheatre and the area immediately around the ruins and amphitheatre are spaceous and well maintained. The tourism value of the site is obviously well understood.

Damascus

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What's at the end of the Road To Damascus

Touted as the oldest, continuously inhabited city in the world. Old Damascus sure looks the part. Surrounded by modern Damascus it could be considered decrepit, and it is certainly antiquated. But, it is also intriguing, very different and hence worth exploring. It was a bit of a culture shock for we newbies to this part of the world and is best absorbed by staying over within its boundaries and trekking down side streets and alleys just to see what's there, day or night.

Intersected by the 1.5km Straight Street (or, more correctly, "A Street Called Straight") which contains one of the city's largest souqs - the Souq al-Hamidiyya, packed with tiny shops, entered through columns from a Roman temple built on a site that had been occupied by an even older temple. The souq smells of spices with craft shops dedicated to everything from leather and copper goods to inlaid boxes and silk scarves it is covered by an arched steel roof supported by iron lacework, with torch-beam-like shafts of sunlight admitted through bullet holes punctured through the roof by the machine-gun fire of French planes during the nationalist rebellion of 1925. Click on the link in the preceding paragraph and the long steel roof can be readily identified across the middle of the satellite image.

Above left. Shaghour Al Barrany St, Old Damascus.

Above right. Maktab Anbar, a more contemporary house in the center of Old Damascus near the Umayyad Mosque built as a private residence by a local Jewish notable in the mid 19th century. Due to high costs the project was abandoned in 1887. The Ottomans, who then occupied Syria, completed the project adding two wings and converting the house into a boys school. The house was restored by the Ministry of Culture in 1976 and now holds a library exhibition hall, museum and craft workshops.

Below - wandering the backstreets and alleys of Old Damascus.

Above left. Courtyard treasure hidden behind a non-descript doorway - revealed after a local encouraged us to take a look.

Above right. Facade of the Antique Khan - our hotel in Old Damascus hidden away in an alley off an alley. Behind the front door is a central covered courtyard that forms the communal part of the hotel. The courtyard is surrounded by 2 floors of rooms, each one being as promised - antique. Comfortable and atmospheric. A great experience; we loved it.

Palmyra

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Palmyra. In the middle of a desert in the middle of Syria, it's a long drive from anywhere. But, the desert scenery is fringed by mountains and maintains interest and the destination certainly justifies the journey if historic old ruins are your bag.

Bagdad Cafe

The Bagdad Cafe in the middle of the Syrian desert on the way to Palmyra. A pleasant pause on the long drive, with a friendly welcome, hot sweet tea, Arabic coffee, a shisha and as many cheap souvenirs as you'd care to buy - Mahmoud will be happy to take your money. A cheerful, welcoming guy and a born salesman. See the Cafe from space on Google Maps - the buildings in the middle.

Ancient Mercedes and ancient shepherd down the road from the Bagdad Cafe. Those sheepdogs are big and they're mean. The shepherd whistled this one back after he ran over threatening to take my leg off. Turn right a few kilometres further along and you're headed into Iraq and certain death.

Need masonry? Hire an Italian

Palmyra - a huge sprawl of Roman ruins built on an oasis and overlooked by the 13th century Fakhr-al-Din al-Maani Castle.

The Zenobia Cham Palace Hotel. Step right into the ruins from the brekkie table.

The Baal Shamin temple, in the photo on the left above and also the eigth of the Palmyra photos, was blown to pieces by ISIS in August 2015. I won't play into the hands of these stinking scumbags by linking to their photo of its destruction. These contemptible murderous zealots ritually executed 20 Syrian soldiers in the Roman amphitheatre (where Sean is standing in the third photo down) and beheaded the 81 year old director of antiquities and hung his mutilated body from one of the site’s ancient pillars.

Travel notes:

• Civil war took over the country after we left, just like in Egypt with its riots and civil unrest, in Turkey in a subsequent tour in 2012 and Thailand in 2013. Coincidence? Perhaps. The Curse Of The Ruins? Possibly. Greece had its riots before we got there.
• Bruce took photos of civilian planes at the airport and got monstered by security as a result. Photos deleted; and the tone of the country, set upon arrival, was repeated on departure.
• The tanks and heavy military vehicles and bases we saw along the road exiting Damascus to Palmyra were probably turned on Syrians by Assad in the civil war that broke out just after our departure.
• The look of disappointment on Chris' face at the dry and dusty oasis at Palmyra. He had been anticipating a dip in a lake of clear, cool water.
• Rita's "shite and briney objects". For her souvenir spoonerism collection.
• Alcohol was not hard to find - Egypt and Jordan were the same. The hotels and restaurants we patronised all had well stocked bars and most of the presumably local customers were indulging - men and women.
• The clamour at the window of a bakery nearby our Antique Kahn hotel in Old Damascus would put Friday night outside a discount knock shop to shame. When the shutter on the window in the wall of that bakery was raised the shouting and arm waving from men, women and kids was something to behold. I don't believe it was due to shortages - there was no hint of that during our stay and people were getting great armfuls of the flat loaves that were as big as man-hole covers. It must've just been extra tasty. The top of an adjacent, waist-high stone wall must've been long used to stack purchases - it shone like it had been polished.
• Our fixer Bashir bumped into us in a back street on a night-time exploration of old Damascus, expressing some shock and dismay we were out and about unescorted. We figured it was because he's used to unadventurous tourists - the place seemed pretty safe and unthreatening to us. Or maybe it was because he figured he would miss out on the freebies he scored at wherever he escorted us to. He did point us to a hole-in-the-wall doughnut vendor and shouted us all to some of the best doughy treats I've ever tried.
• The ubiquitous hookah. The waterpipe called variously shish, shisha, narghile, arghila, bubble pipe or whatever depending on where you are. In an Aqaba cafe in Jordan I called for a shisha and was immediately identified by fellow patrons as someone who'd been in Egypt. The Jordanians apparently know it as a shish.
  Anti-smokers turn away now. I really enjoy a puff on a shish - solo, or in tandem with a friend on a dual-hosed jobbie. Non-smokers need to be cautious if you're ever tempted to try one, they take forever to smoke and head-spins are a certainty. Sean face-planted into the falafel after a session in Damascus. The newby!
  There's nothing like sitting out on a Middle Eastern footpath and toking on a shish, sipping an Egyptian tea or Arabic coffee and people watching. Cheap, laid-back and very relaxing.
• The fabulous Bakdash ice cream parlour at the Souq al-Hamidiyya on Straight Street should not be missed. Chewy, elastic ice cream made with gum - pounded with hammers and served covered with pistachios. The owners opened a branch in Amman, Jordan following the outbreak of the Syrian civil war so it's still accessible to those not prepared to die for a delicious dairy dessert.
• Worth seeing - the National Museum of Damascus. Arranged into 5 wings of prehistoric, ancient, classical, islamic and contemporary exhibits. An exchange of backsheesh with a guard and she allowed otherwise prohibited photos (flashless - for discretion or to protect the exhibits, or both). Reinforcing corruption or going along with accepted practices? The nearby markets are worth a browse - the source for Sean's oud, handmade out the back of a small musical instruments shop. (The shop is small, not necessarily the instruments.)