Syria- Part 1

 You are probably wondering why I would risk going to Syria.  You may not understand, but I was curious.  I was curious about the country that strictly controls information flow in and out.  I was curious about the uprising and the many versions of the truth.  And I was curious to learn what it is like to live in a country in the midst of conflict.  Sure, the historical sites were attractive, but at this point I have seen and will continue to see a lot of old things- citadel, big mosque, souq and repeat.  

The journey begins when I get off the bus at the Turkey/Syria border.  I am whisked into a taxi with 3 other people already inside waiting.  We proceed through the formalities of border crossing where I hold up the group at every check point.  Obviously it is suspicious that a foreigner wants to go to Syria at this time.  I am interrogated, my belongings thoroughly searched and a special note handwritten into my passport stating I carry a computer.  As I officially cross into Syria I am highly aware that I am leaving behind the rights and freedoms I am accustomed to.  In fact, I am less worried about personal injury than I am of being detained in prison, accused of being an s-p-y.    

The first town I arrive in is such a pleasant experience.  The locals say to me “you are always welcome in Syria” and give me food for my bus ride to Aleppo.  Enroute, the bus stops at numerous army checkpoints but once in Aleppo everything seems normal.  I take a few days to visit the sites but it is not long before I am speaking frankly with a couple locals about the civil unrest.  At first there is caution on both sides- Syrians aren’t supposed to criticize their government and I would hate to open my mouth and find out I was talking to the secret police (no joke). 

After Aleppo I head to Hama hoping to make it my base while visiting Palmyra and Crac des Chevaliers.  I get off the bus and try to get a cab to the hotel I plan to stay at, but no one wants to take me.  Finally, one driver and an English speaking local agree to take me- and I discover the problem. Hama is a war zone.  As we drive we see gangs of armed people in the streets, the police and army supported by the air force overhead, black plumes of smoke from tire fires, road closures formed by rocks and razor wire, while the city itself is like a ghost town.  The English speaking local tells me he is going to Damascus today and he just put his mom on a bus to Aleppo.  The people have fled from Hama and he advises me to do the same.  It wasn’t long ago (1982) when Assad Sr. shelled the city of Hama killing tens of thousands in another kind of uprising.  I decide I don’t need to stick around to see if his son decides to repeat history.  But getting back to the bus station is easier said than done and along the way we hear gunshots that sound so close all 3 of us duck lower in the cab.  I nervously wait for the bus to Damascus and wonder how 2 cities only a couple hours apart could be reacting so differently.

Once in Damascus, you would swear there wasn’t a problem.  I resume my sightseeing with a bit of prodding of locals I feel I can trust.  I take a couple days to go to Palmyra but I make sure I am in Damascus on Friday where I am told is safest during post prayer demonstrations. Interestingly, in Damascus I see pro-government rallies and notice pictures of Assad are so common it is almost like he is worshipped instead of an elected official.  Reluctantly, I give up on travel in Syria and take a bus from Damascus to Beirut.

My humble opinion of the Syrian Revolution will follow in a separate blog along with the pics (because they take forever to upload).  I have finally posted a handful of photos to go with the previous post on Mount Nemrut, so check it out. Currently I am in Lebanon but soon I fly to Iraqi Kurdistan where I will make my way overland back to Turkey.  I am falling behind on my blogging and hope I can remember everything I want to tell you! Thinking of home but happily abroad,

Carrie