Home » Syria » From Syria to Amman, Jordan (10 December 2001)

"We are not demanders of War and Terror, but we will defend ourselves against War and Terror" read the sign at the frontier. It was lunchtime and the road was hectic with children laughing and shouting their way home from school. Their school uniform was a dark green military uniform complete with shoulder epaulettes. The British Consulate in Istanbul had 'strongly advised' me not to enter the country. Welcome to Syria.

From Syria to Amman, Jordan (10 December 2001)

Roundtheworldbybike
2005-11-17 20:40:40

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inland.

>Tent in silhouetteBaalbek is an archaeological phenomenon for which the superlative could have been invented. The biggest Roman temple in the world, the best preserved Roman temple in the world and, my favourite, the biggest building block ever cut. It measures 20m x 5m x 4m, weighs 2000 tonnes and would need 40,000 men to shift it! The stones at Stonehenge are a mere 50 tonnes. The place is stunning and I had it all to myself! My jubilation at pitching my tent at the foot of a temple was tempered by discovering I had left my sleeping bag and mat in Beirut. Idiot! The temperature hovered around zero, I didn't sleep much and dawn was a very real relief.

It is Ramadan, the Muslims' month of fasting during daylight. As I entered Damascus a student I met on the street invited me home for iftar, the evening breaking of the fast and a HUGE feast. The food was delightful, the father's high volume anti -Semitic ranting a little less so. Cycling through Damascus at 4pm amongst several million hungry Muslims driving home at high speed is my new number 1 most dangerous cycling experience.

I nearly quit. Being alone means that there is nobody to tell you to stop being ridiculous when you are feeling down. The sheer scale of what I was attempting, the feeling of being trapped like a hamster in a wheel, the loneliness and the anonymity hit me in a wave of terror. I plumbed new depths of sadness. Only my stupid pride stopped me heading for the airport. But then I discovered Damascus, dark winding souks, atmosphere and surprises around every tight corner. Kebabs better even than Istanbul convinced me that I could not possibly go home yet. So I pedalled on and gradually began to cheer up. But I do not wish to endure (nor will I be able to) too many times like I went through in Damascus.

Bosra is a Roman theatre in Southern Syria capable of seating 15,000 people. It is almost as pristine today as when it was built 2000 years ago. The place oozes atmosphere and the acoustics are unbelievable. And again I had the place to myself. I sang Happy Birthday to myself on the stage to a vast audience of zero. Amazingly 2 Belgian cyclists showed up. We brewed tea on the stage and spent the night in the theatre (imagine trying to do that in Rome!). My high-volume rendition of Jerusalem beneath a full moon was spectacular.

We pedalled together to Amman. Jordan is my 15th country and I now have 6500km under my wheels. It is time to recuperate for a while, to do battle with the Sudanese embassy and to enjoy the unexpected pleasure of a huge Christmas dinner courtesy of my new host - headmaster Phillip Brisley.

Arabian kindness and hospitality has been universal, trusting and humbling. The cuisine is fabulous. The history is jaw dropping. I know I can safely leave my bike unattended in the street. The only bad thing has been one day of torrential rain as I left Syria. That must have been the reason why the British Consulate warned me so strongly against travel here!