Roads from Damascus

By David Gourley

One of the things about travel is that the range of possibilities changes over time with the political situation. David has given me permission to post this article about his visit to Syria from the VISA archive. He says "It was a bit over ten years ago that we went there, a time when Syria could justly be described as a safe and friendly destination and when Lebanon was re-establishing itself as  a tourist destination after its own civil war.  Makes for some poignant reading."

“Travel broadens the mind” might be a tired cliché but it is nonetheless true.  Just about every country I have visited turns out to be different – and usually this means better – from what I might have imagined.  Syria in particular gets a rather bad press these days.  It is portrayed as a rogue state yet it is one of the friendliest countries I have visited.  Syrians are aware of their isolation and the mere fact that one has chosen to visit their country gives one a certain kudos.  Certainly we encountered no anti-western feeling whatever, which is more than can be said of an earlier visit to Jordan, generally regarded as much friendlier to the west than Syria.  There we had one of those touristic experiences which sounds good but turns out to be awful: a dinner in the desert at which the parting shot of our Bedouin “hosts’” was that ours was an “ugly culture”. 

I occasionally write for the sister SIG for Politics and have to be careful not to bring too much travel into their magazine or too much politics into ours.  A little on the subject might nevertheless be said.  I hold no brief for the Assad regime, which functions almost like a monarchy, with son succeeding father as surely as in next door Jordan, a real monarchy.  Nowhere else have I seen anything like the huge number of posters in the street depicting a ruler, in this instance the President, Bashir al-Assad, more often than not accompanied by one of his late father, Hafez, and occasionally one of his elder brother, Basil, previously regarded as the heir to the presidency whose life was cut short by a car crash.  This is, no mistake, a repressive regime and there is disappointment in the country that it has not opened up more under its new young president.

Yet the regime has provided stability, and for the most part peace, since the late president seized power in 1970.  Those who would like to see “regime change” might ponder whether “letting go of nurse” would “lead to something worse”; peaceful change from within might well be the desirable way forward.  As in Iraq under Saddam the Baathists are the ruling party but there was never much love lost between the two countries and Hafez al-Assad never descended to the depths of brutality displayed by his Iraqi counterpart.  This is a secular society in which women can choose for themselves whether to wear a veil and one can enjoy wine or beer, some of which is locally produced.  The fairly large Christian community (comprising around 10% of the population, our guide included) and the Moslem majority intermingle without any problem.  If forced to choose, I would rather have pictures of President Assad in his suit and tie to some wild-eyed cleric with flowing beard (the occasional picture of Ayatollah Khomeini adorns the roadside in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley).

In respect of international relations, there is a question whether Syria is more sinning or sinned against.  Undoubtedly the regime wants to make peace with Israel and President Clinton makes clear in his biography his belief that Israeli intransigence was the reason why the talks he brokered between the two countries foundered.  The Syrians may not have behaved at all times impeccably in Lebanon but they did play a vital role in restoring peace to that country, after fifteen years of civil war.

Syria’s isolation means that tourism, despite its tremendous potential, has not greatly developed compared to that in Egypt, say, or Turkey.  This has its minuses but maybe a few more pluses.  One can wonder around its historic sites for the most part unbothered by crowds or by tradesmen.  In her farewell speech to our very likeable guide, Fatih (pronounced ‘fatty’), a member of our party was cheered by us all when she referred to the absence of a McDonalds in Damascus.  On the other hand accommodation is not generally of western standards (though the new Four Seasons in Damascus, not yet open when we visited, might help to change that).  Our flight to Damascus with Syrianair  provided a foretaste of this.  Our hotels were four-star but one needs to remove at least one star to get the equivalent western rating.  If gourmet dining is essential to one’s holiday, it might be best to go elsewhere.  The ubiquitous but seldom varying mezze rather lost their novelty after a while.

Syria is also remarkably safe.  Fatih welcomed us to “the safest country in the Middle East – and in the world”.  A slight exaggeration, maybe, but, very unusually, the Lonely Planet guide to Syria does not include a section on “dangers and annoyances”.  Crime is very low  - and we found it hard to believe in this peaceful country that we were next door to Iraq!

We started in Damascus, where we had a full day guided tour.  The modern downtown is nothing very special but the historic old city is a real gem.  Damascus vies with its great rival Aleppo for the claim to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world.  There is no definitive founding date in either case so the two cities have to make do with sharing the accolade.  What can be said is that Damascus dates back at least to the third millennium BC.  Wandering around the narrow and picturesque alleyways of the old city is a delight.  Here too are the atmospheric souks. Centrally located in this area is the magnificent Umayyad Mosque, in terms of sanctity second only to the mosques in Medina and Mecca.  Unlike in those Saudi mosques, non-Moslem visitors are welcomed.

There are strong Biblical associations.  It was of course on the road to Damascus that Saul, soon to be Paul, was stuck by a blinding light.  That experience eluded us but we did stroll along the Street called Straight, the route Ananias was instructed to take when summoned by God to go and meet Paul, whom he cured of his blindness.  This picturesque street is fairly straight but not exactly so, hence the appellation “called Straight”.  At the end of the Street is the Church of Ananias wherein is a beautiful set of pictures depicting the life of Paul.  Close by is the chapel which is held to be – there is some historical controversy here – the one from which Paul was subsequently lowered in a basket to escape arrest and begin his new life as an Apostle.

We next had a day trip to Bosra, which is close to the Jordanian border and is not to be confused with its Iraqi near-namesake, Basra.  We were to see some fine scenery in Syria but not on this trip.  The drive was through rather grim desert, very similar to what we had seen on the other side of the border when driving between Petra, Amman and Jerash.  Main interest was seeing the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights in the distance.  I had rather expected Bosra to be like the magnificent Roman site at Jerash, which is quite close by.  I was thus in for a surprise for whereas the site at Jerash is standalone, Bosra is a living city, its inhabitants dwelling amidst the ruins of the old town.  So Bosra is for free, apart from the separately located Roman Theatre, one of the finest such constructions anywhere.  On the way back we paused in Izra (no, we’re not in Israel, quipped Fatih) to visit one of Syria’s oldest churches, the Greek Orthodox Basilica of St George.

The next four nights were to be spent away from Damascus.  We headed first for Palmyra, in the east of the country.  This too entailed a trip through the desert but, once we’d left the environs of the capital, it was quite pleasant.  We had a refreshment stop at a small establishment which continues to call itself the Baghdad Café and a bit beyond is the junction of the road to Iraq, some seventy miles or so to our south.  I was glad we were continuing east!  Signs to borders simply give the name of the country: “Jordan 20 km” or whatever.  The sign here to Iraq is, we were told, much photographed these days and we ourselves took this photo-opportunity.  

Palmyra has to be one of the highlights of a visit to Syria.   I am undecided whether it is the number one highlight and might settle for ranking it equal first with the Old City in Damascus, Krak des Chevaliers, and the Citadel in Aleppo.  By any standards the Roman ruins constitute one of the greatest historical sites anywhere.  The magnificent and well preserved Temple of Bel would, on its own, be worth the long traipse into the desert but there is plenty else to see here and we had a fascinating afternoon, which finished with a drive up to the castle, from where there was a fine view over the complex.

There is a modern town of Palmyra, adjacent to the ruined city, but we got only a brief glimpse of this as our overnight stay was to be in Homs, Syria’s third city after Damascus and Aleppo.  This was November, giving the advantage of reasonable temperatures, Palmyra in particular being baking hot in summer.  The downside was that it got dark very early and our lengthy journey across the desert was entirely in darkness so a bit boring.  Lonely Planet is rather unkind about Homs, quoting the joke that the only thing that is refined about the city is its oil – it boasts a huge oil refinery, which we saw the following day.  We did not get much chance to judge for ourselves, as a city tour was not included. 

Syria is not all desert.  There are mountains and much fine scenery in the western part of the country and the next few days gave us a chance to enjoy some of this.  On the first of these days our main port of call was the magnificent Crusaders’ castle, Krak des Chevaliers.  This was our first visit to such a castle though rather tantalizingly we had seen the one in Kerak, Jordan, in the distance.  There was some other sightseeing to be fitted in.  First we stopped in Safita, a charming mountain town that almost had an Italian feel about it.  Here we visited the White Castle.  Next on our itinerary was Sulaiman Fort, a ruin and not, in truth, overly interesting. 

We then took what Fatih, an architect by profession who only does occasional tour guiding, called a “short cut” to the Krak.  Some mistake surely as it seemed to be never-ending.  We thus got to see rather more of Syria than we’d expected - and maybe the same went for our driver, who from time to time stopped to ask people the way!  The scenery was great but I started to fret we’d have insufficient time at the Krak and was thus rather relieved when we at last got there.  In fact we didn’t have quite enough time.  There is a lot to see and Fatih gave us a comprehensive tour.  The one thing however that I wanted to do above all was to go up to the roof and admire the superb view.  Come closing time, we had just about seen everything else but Fatih said that there was not time to go up on the roof.  I sneaked up anyway.

Fairly close by is the Monastery of St George, which was also on our itinerary.  George might be the patron saint of England but he is also rather big among Christians in the Middle East, vanquished dragon and all.  This is a lovely building.  It was dark by the time we got there but it looked all the more atmospheric.  We then headed back for our second night in Homs.

Generally the weather during our stay in Syria was good but the following day, as we headed for Ugarit, the heavens opened and there was driving rain as we made our way up the Mediterranean coast and through the port of Latakia.  But luck didn’t desert us. The rain stopped just as we reached Ugarit, which is a few miles to the north of Latakia.  The rest of the day was showery.  Ugarit is a smallish but important site, and well worth a visit.  It lays claim to be the founding place of one of the earliest alphabets, Ugaritic (the Syrians will tell you that it was the very first), developed some 4000 years ago.  Before that written language had depended on pictograms, as in hieroglyphics.  Ugarit’s other claim to fame is that it was the world’s first international port.  An interesting visit.

We then headed inland to Qa’alat Salah ad-Din, described by T E Lawrence as “the most sensational thing in castle building I’ve seen”.  I don’t think he was far wrong.  The Krak is the more splendid of the two buildings but what this other castle has going for it is its dramatic location, sited on a ridge between two steep ravines in mountainous terrain.  Night soon fell after we finished our visit and we now headed for Aleppo, where we were to spend two nights.  By day our journey would have been fascinating, through small towns and villages and plenty of fine scenery.  But as nighttime soon fell after we commenced our drive it became a bit tedious.  Before long it will be possible to do the trip by the motorway which is being built between Aleppo and the coast.  Motorways in Syria are designated in the same way as in Britain.  The M1 for example runs from Aleppo to Damascus, then on to the Jordanian border.

We at last made it to Aleppo and here a pleasant surprise awaited us.  We had not been greatly impressed by our hotel in Damascus (a better one was to be used when we returned to that city), the one in Homs had been an improvement and here in Aleppo we were in one of the city’s charming boutique hotels, the Diwan Ramsy, quite recently opened and formerly two separate historic houses.  It is attractively located amidst narrow lanes in the old city and from its rooftop courtyard there is a stunning view of Aleppo’s massive Citadel, which is floodlit at night.  We were pleased with our room though on the downside dinner was somewhat mediocre and breakfast decidedly poor.  Not all in our party welcomed the fact that (unlike other places we stayed in) this is a dry hotel but we could be smug as we had our own supply of wine.

Sightseeing the next morning took us to the ruins of the Church of St Simeon, which enjoys a commanding hilltop location with views into Turkey.  This is a rather sore point with Syrians for the territory in question was once theirs.  The area, formerly know as the Sanjak of Alexandretta and bordering the Mediterranean, was ceded to the Turks by the French, who ruled Syria between the two World Wars and are not fondly remembered.  The Syrians thus lost the ancient site of Antioch.  Fatih told us that some of his in-laws were among the displaced persons who fled to Syria.  St Simeons is a fascinating site though the saint himself sounds rather an oddball character, who spent some 30 years atop a pillar, preaching to his audience, with women, including his own mother, barred.  There was a railing around the top, and an iron collar round his neck, chained to the pillar to prevent him falling off when asleep. 

Back in Aleppo we had a fascinating tour of the mighty Citadel, followed by a walking tour around the old city and the souks.  There was a break before we started the walk, during which we got into conversation with an Iraqi family, who were on holiday and no doubt enjoying a respite from the problems in their own country.  The father was a congenial former airforce pilot.  We talked a bit about the situation in Iraq and ventured the suggestion that it might be another year or so before there is peace there.  One of his beautiful teenage daughters looked at us sadly: “no, it will be about ten years”, she said.  Fatih chipped in: “maybe it will be our turn next”. 

There was an included meal in a local restaurant that evening.  Fatih, who lives in Aleppo, waxed lyrical about the distinctive local cuisine which we’d be enjoying.  Yet what turned up were the usual mezze and, for the main course, some not particularly distinctive kebabs!  But it was a pleasant meal nevertheless and there was a convivial atmosphere.  A few of us on the walk back to our hotel went into the Baron Hotel for a drink.  This was once one of the foremost hotels in the Middle East, a place where travellers on the Near Eastern extension of the Orient Express would linger a while, and some famous people have stayed there, including T E Lawrence, whose bar bill is displayed in the lounge.  This hotel has known better days and is no longer especially grand, but there is a certain charm still and, if tourism in Syria ever seriously takes off, it might yet regain its former glory.  

The next day was out final day of touring in Syria.  We headed back to Damascus, visiting en route the Roman ruins at Apamea.  These are less well-known than Palmyra but are almost as impressive.  In contrast to the desert which surrounds Palmyra, there is a backdrop of green hills.  We had a brief stop in Hama, Syria’s fourth city, so we could look at its celebrated water wheels.  The city centre has been extensively rebuilt in recent years, as much of it was destroyed in 1982 when a rather serious fundamentalist uprising was put down.  This uprising was confined to Hama.  Final stop was in Maalula, a predominantly Christian village which is an easy half-day trip from Damascus.  As it was now dark, and the village is renowned for its dramatic location and beautiful houses, we rather wondered if there was any point, especially as it entailed a lengthy diversion.  But we enjoyed our visit to the ancient Monastery of St Sergius, whose priest gave us an introductory talk.  Maalula is of one the few places where Aramaic, the language of Jesus, is still spoken. 

Like most in our rather large party, we’d booked a two-night add-on in Lebanon and this included two full days back in Damascus.  A chance once more therefore to roam around the Old City.  We had one disappointment.  We had planned to revisit the National Museum, reasoning that we’d appreciate its contents all the more now that we were better acquainted with the country.  We knew that, like many public buildings, it closes on Tuesdays so headed for it on our first afternoon, a Monday.  There we found another couple from our party waiting outside.  They’d been hanging around for some time, having been led to believe the Museum was closed for lunch.  However, further enquiry revealed that it was closed for the rest of the day, as preparations were in hand for a reception in the evening, which was to mark a major new exhibition and would be attended by various dignitaries.

The four of us hotfooted it back to the Old City so we could be in time to go to as yet unvisited Azem Palace, which closes remarkably early and would not be open the next day.  We made it with just enough time to look round.  We ended up feeling rather glad that the Museum was closed for the Palace really shouldn’t be missed.  This is a fine example of the distinctive Damascene architecture.  This is not, as one might imagine, a single complex, rather one goes in and out of various rooms located around courtyards.  There are mannequin displays in each room for the Palace also serves as the Museum of the Arts and Popular Traditions of Syria.  

Another “must see” in Damascus is the main railway station.  That might sound a rather odd thing to say but here we are talking about the Hejaz Station, so named from the legendary railway which was supposed to convey pilgrims to and from Mecca.  It has a beautiful interior.  The railway of course never got to Mecca, and nowadays stops well short of the Hejaz region, which is now part of Saudi Arabia.  Once or twice a week, though, a train trundles down to the Jordanian capital, Amman.  Currently there are no trains running from the Station, the terminus for now being a bit further out.  The authorities are in the midst of a massive construction project which will bring the trains back to Hejaz Station using a tunnel.  Damascus is certainly in dire need of better public transport.

We transferred by road to our hotel in Beirut.  At the border we were met by our lovely Lebanese guide, Suzanna.  During our stay in Lebanon, she spoke very frankly about the Civil War, which lasted some fifteen years.  She had lived in Beirut throughout that period.  She stressed that it was not about religion or politics: “we still don’t know why the war started – or why it ended”.  The assassination earlier in the year of former President Rafiq Hariri had led to the so-called “Cedar Revolution” and the departure of Syrian troops.  There had been comparisons with the “Orange Revolution” in Ukraine, with Beirut thus transformed into “Kiev-on-the-Mediterranean”.  I did not really buy into this view.  Ukraine, which we have visited (VISA, June and September 2004), was for many decades subjected to Soviet rule whereas Lebanon had been a genuinely independent state since WW2.  It had, quite simply, imploded.

We had had qualms about visiting Lebanon. Terrible scenes from the civil war were still in our mind but it seemed a shame not to take advantage of the reasonably priced add-on offer and in any case the country has been at peace for 15 years.  “Lebanon is a safe country”, Suzanna told us, with no sense of irony.  She meant that crime is low.  It is also the case that tourists can now go just about anywhere.  A work colleague told me that, a few years after the civil war, she’d been to Beirut but not Baalbek “because it wasn’t safe”.  Another colleague told me that, a bit later on, she’d been to Baalbek but not Sidon “because it wasn’t safe”.  We went to both.

We first drove to Baalbek, one of the most magnificent anywhere of Roman sites.  It is a huge complex, the Temple of Bacchus being the most impressive of all as it is still almost entire.  Baalbek is located in the Bekaa Valley which is a stronghold of Hizbollah.  Nowadays they operate within the Parliamentary system.  It was still a bit offputting though to see their symbol at regular intervals along the road, together with the occasional pictures of Ayatollah Khomeini already mentioned.  One of our party purchased a Hizbollah T-shirt and was no doubt looking forward to shocking the folk back home.

Despite the years of civil war, Lebanon is a lot more westernized than Syria and there is a reasonably good tourist infrastructure.  We nevertheless preferred Syria.  Our hotel was in Beirut, a stone’s throw from the Corniche which runs along the sea front.  The next day we visited the National  Museum, which closed during the Civil War, re-opening a few years afterwards.  The staff did their best to protect the priceless exhibits during the years of conflict, which in some instances meant encasing statues in concrete.  There was a rather moving video of the preparations for re-opening the Museum, with assorted treasures once more seeing the light of day.  Suzanna told us she had wept when she heard about the looting of the Museum in Baghdad.

We then had a walking tour of the rebuilt downtown area, sometimes known as Solideré, after the company set up for this purpose by President Hariri.  It has been tastefully done in traditional style, and is rather impressive.  Yet, I was not alone in our party in thinking it was a bit soulless.  Before the Civil War, Beirut was a lively and cosmopolitan city, the unofficial capital of the Middle East and the official capital of a country that was regarded as the “Switzerland of the Middle East”.  One fears that, what was lost during those appalling years, will never come back.  The city is effectively having to reinvent itself.  On a more positive note we on various occasions drove across the once-notorious “Green Line” which separated Christian East and Moslem West Beirut.  Today there is no trace of it and amidst the bustle of heavy traffic going in all directions, it is impossible to imagine it ever having been there.  It all seemed reassuringly normal.

I would not describe Beirut as a lovely city.  There is nothing to compare with the old cities in Damascus or Aleppo.  It sprawls for many miles in all directions.  This sprawl followed us all the way to Byblos, some 25 miles up the coast.  On the way we passed through Jounieh, which was just a fishing village before the War.  Now, with its high rise buildings, it merges indistinguishably into the capital.  During the War it was the main base of the Christian Maronites.  Byblos itself is a haven amidst the sprawl, with its Roman site, Crusader Castle, and souk.

Before heading out of Beirut, Suzanna had taken us to a shrine for the assassinated former President.  We were to go somewhere rather similar in Sidon, where feelings are if anything stronger still, since he was a son of that city.  Suzanna clearly felt very strongly.  It was obvious that she was not in the pro-Syrian camp though tact prevented her from saying very much given we had ourselves been touring Syria and liked the country, if not the regime.  She clearly believed the allegations that the Syrian regime, or elements thereof, had some hand in the assassination.  There is now under UN auspices an investigation into whether there is any substance to these allegations.  There is no doubt that Rafiq Hariri had been a dynamic leader, to be credited with great energy in driving forward the rebuilding of his devastated country, not just in downtown Beirut but elsewhere. 

Our final day’s itinerary took us down the coast to Sidon, where we explored the Crusader Castle, located on a small island which is reached by a bridge.  Another attraction here is the Soap Museum which was however closed (soap as in ‘wash your face’ rather than TV!)  We then had a scenic drive through the Chouf Mountains, stronghold of the Druze community, to Beiteddine Palace.  It was from this impressive complex that the Ottomans once ruled.  The Druze leader Walid Jumblatt restored the building after the extensive damage during the civil war, when it was in the path of the invading Israeli army.  He declared it to be a “Palace of the People” and his family have donated many of the exhibits. 

Having completed this visit we made out way back to the border with Syria, where we said farewell to Suzanna.  She had been an excellent guide who was clearly proud of her country, despite the terrible times she had lived through.  She lamented the fact that there was a lot of it we hadn’t seen.  “You haven’t been to Tripoli or Tyre – you could change your minds and come back to Beirut with me!”  We had one more night in Damascus and an early flight home the next day.  Altogether an enjoyable and interesting two weeks.

 First published in VISA 66 and 67 (April - June 2006)

Israel and Jordan

by David Whiting

I was really looking forward to my tour of Israel and Jordan. Perhaps it was due to many months of hard, dirty work, but I felt ready for a terrific holiday. The hostilities between Muslims in southern Lebanon and Israel made me all the more excited; unfortunately (from the point of view of depriving me of some memorable photo opportunities), a ceasefire came into effect just a week before the tour began, on 28 April.

The tour began in Tel Aviv, a modern city and holiday resort on the Mediterranean coast. Its ancient past is recalled in the Haeretz Museum, by fine archaeological and historical collections from across Israel, based on the 7000 year old tel (artificial mound), which bears traces of the many civilisations which have existed on the site. A short visit was made to Tel Aviv's southern suburb, Jaffa, whose narrow medieval streets transport you back in time.

Then it was north along the coast via Caesarea, a mined Roman city with a magnificent Crusader fort, to Mount Carmel (origin of the Carmelite monastery), which overlooks the city and port of Haifa, to Akko (Acre). All the time, I was amazed by the fertile valleys and fields we were passing, fed by an advanced and enviable system of irrigation.

My idea of Nazareth was a small ancient village. Wrong. We arrived to discover a large modern city of around 500,000 inhabitants. A few rocks denote the traditional site of Mary's house, where the archangel Gabriel told her she would be the mother of Jesus. But these are covered by the modern Church of the Annunciation, with its octagonal roof. Many countries around the world have contributed splendid pictures, mosaics etc. to this church and Germany donated a complete chapel.

The Sea of Galilee lies in a very picturesque area, adjacent to the Golan Heights We stopped at Yardenit, a place of ritual baptisms amongst palm forests on the river Jordan, where it flows into the sea. We passed ostrich farms, too, before driving into a kibbutz - where there was no sign of life, although the agricultural and horticultural activities of the community were quite apparent - from where we crossed the sea to Tiberias.

Brief visits followed to Capharnaum, where Jesus lodged in John the Baptist's house (adjacent to an ancient synagogue, now lying in impressive ruins) and nearby Tabgha with its modern church on the site of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes.

In central Israel stands the sparse, mined Armageddon Castle at Megiddo. I never knew there was such a place but, having seen it, I dread such an event ever being repeated. An unusual lunch stop was made at a riverside resort called Gan Hashlosha. Hardly Butlins, but an attractive park, shady trees, a restaurant and shop lured hundreds of Palestinians to take advantage of the facilities (apparently, it was a Muslim holiday). It was fascinating to watch them swimming, diving and splashing about in the river; what struck me most was that, while the Arab men and boys wore Western style swimming costumes, the women and girls bathed fully clothed. They were all thoroughly enjoying themselves, without a care.

Further inland, we visited Beit She'an, an important and thriving Roman city, badly damaged many centuries ago in an earthquake, but now gradually being restored to its former Roman glory by archaeologists. It is a massive task and I would be surprised if it is ever completed. Although the ruins are magnificent, I began to wonder why we were visiting Roman cities in Israel; of course little is left of pre-Roman civilisations in the area, but I had already seen enough of them in Italy and other countries and I would have preferred to visit more genuinely Israeli sites.

However, we were now entering deserts close to the River Jordan and the barren countryside was more typical of what I expected to see. After half an hour in Jericho (under Palestinian administration), where we stopped basically for refreshments, we continued to Jerusalem for three nights. One morning was devoted to sightseeing in the Old City. However, except for some Roman remains, most of the city is medieval or later.

In fact, the Dome of the Rock (on the site where Abraham sacrificed one of his sons and from where the prophet Mohammed ascended to Heaven to receive the Koran) is very modern and outstandingly beautiful. Its gold leaf roof is visible from far outside the city The Western (or Wailing) Wall is hugely impressive; a boy celebrating his bar-mitzvah added the mystery and magic of the location.

Also, I shall never forget that, outside the city wall, I encountered a Jewish harpist singing Waltzing Matilda. Our group comprised Americans, Canadians and Britons so, if the Australian favourite was meant to welcome us, none of us appreciated it!

An afternoon excursion to Bethlehem took us to a Palestinian city with not a hint of biblical habitation. The Church of the Nativity is an old building with a modern appearance, standing on the traditional site where Jesus was born. A lively and colourful folklore show in the evening demonstrated the music, dances and costumes of Israeli and Arab.

More sightseeing in Jerusalem followed, featuring the Dead Sea Scrolls, some of which were written in characters 0.5 mm tall. The art of miniature writing was well developed 2,000 years ago and these particular scrolls are only legible through a magnifying glass. Then the Hadassah Memorial Hospital, world-famous for its advanced medical technology but also for its series of stained glass windows by Marc Chagall - partly as a memorial to his Jewish faith.

We also went to the Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum, a grim reminder of the fate suffered by Jews throughout history. It seemed more than coincidence that there was a storm while we were there. After lunch in the suburb of Evi Karem, where John the Baptist baptised many Christians, we visited the Church and Gardens of Gethsemane.

We left Jerusalem and headed for the Dead Sea, the lowest point on the Earth's surface. First stop Qumran to see where the 1,900 year old Dead Sea Scrolls were found. Then it was on to Masada, a rock overlooking the Sea, the scene of a mass ritual suicide when the inhabitants were on the verge of conquest by the Romans. Before leaving the Dead Sea, we spent some time in a beach resort there, being roasted by the sun and trying not to float in the water. We then had to return to Tel Aviv as some of our group were returning home the next day and others would be spending the next week at a seaside resort.

Eight of us continued to Jordan, which meant extensive border formalities, two changes of coach and (what a relief!) a different escort. The first thing to strike me about the Hashemite Kingdom was the poverty. The people didn't look after their homes or possessions; although petrol costs around 10p per litre, wages are low (average the equivalent of £250 per month). We visited the impressive Roman ruins at Jerash before arriving in the capital, Amman; a modern city built around a small ancient village. I recall lazing by the hotel swimming pool, being covered in cotton balls, blown from the fields outside the city.

Heading south, we visited a village called Madaba, where a 2,000 year old mosaic map of the Middle East was recently discovered on the floor of a church. We crossed Jordan's answer to the Grand Canyon and spent time at the magnificent Crusader castle at Kerak. Then came the highlights of the tour - Petra, where 2,000 years ago an entire city was carved out of the red sandstone rock. It's one of those magical places which can't be described -it has to be seen to be believed. Further south, beyond more inhospitable desert, we arrived in Aqaba and crossed the border at Eilat.

I went on a day trip to south Sinai, where Israeli shekels are widely accepted. The main purpose was to visit the ancient Greek Orthodox St Catherine's Monastery in the heart of the desert mountains near Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments. We took tea and bread with bedouins in their camp. I suppose in one sense I can now say that I have visited Egypt - but the pyramids, the real Egypt, were far away! Back in Eilat, I spent some free time exploring the coral reef for which the resort is famous.

After a drive across the Negev Desert (including a stop at the home of Israel's first Prime Minister, David Ben Gurion), the "mystery tour" came to a close - leaving me with the distinct feeling that I needed a holiday to get over it.

First published in VISA issue 24 (spring 1997)

Historic Jordan

by James Allen

"Hallo," said the gun-toting soldier with a smile and a wave. His beaming, moustachioed face pressed in through the driver's window, his dark glasses reflecting our bemused expressions.
We were five miles from the Golan Heights on the Jordan side, on our way to visit the Roman town (and subsequent villages) at Umm Qais in northern Jordan. Earlier our driver had asked if we had our passports; we had both said "no" and indicated that, if we had been asked, we would have brought them. "Ah no problem," was the laconic answer, only to round the corner to see the sandy coloured Hum-Vee parked in the shade by the side of the road. A bored soldier was manning a ridiculously large machine gun and an equally bored soldier was standing in a sentry box in the middle of the road.

Umm Qais

Our driver slowed to a stop and exchanged a few words, then we got the "Hallo" and we were waved on. 

Bemused, we asked what had been said. Our driver stated that he had said that we were English (not strictly true since Mara is an American) and that most of the Jordanian Army officer corps had trained in England, and so had a liking for English tourists. Also he said that we didn't look like Iraqis or Syrians, whom weren't allowed in the border areas. With that we sped on. This was our second day in Jordan and it was turning out already to be a very interesting week...

You may recall that an Iraqi family wedding was bombed at the SAS Radisson in Amman - what was less reported was that bombs were also at the Holiday Inn and the Grand Hyatt, where we were staying. In order to gain the tourists' and businessmen's confidence, all the hotels had security posts, with guards and armed police. We went through the metal detectors, and all our luggage through an x-ray machine, but it was noticeable then and later that it was only when an Arab looking person set the detectors off that a search was done (always with a woman for woman and man for man).

Sunday morning in an Arabic country is the start of the working week. The hotel breakfast was a vast buffet with international and local foods, from foul (pronounced fool - chickpea and beans with garlic and olive oil to taste) to sarj (thin bread, almost pancake style, with thyme and oil filling, sometimes with tomatoes and cucumber). It was a great way to start a full day.
We started with a city tour of Amman, something that we hadn't wanted to spend much time on since there isn't a great deal to see. The main sites are the Citadel and the Roman amphitheatre.

We then headed out for a tour of three Desert Castles. Castles is a grand title, as they are more like lodges and houses dating from 800 AD to 1200 AD. The bit about the desert is accurate. It's much like the Mojave Desert in California, hot, windy, dry, featureless and treeless.

The first castle was Qasr al Harana, also known as Kharaneh, is one of the desert castles that appears to have been built with a genuine military purpose in mind, and was a basic square box from the outside. It sits on a wide plain with only a power station and listening station for company; it was a dramatic sight.

The second Qasr Amra is a small palace dating back to the early days of the Islamic Conquest and was more of a hunting lodge and was smaller than the first. This one dates from 800 AD and is covered with frescoes, including hunting scenes, domestic scenes and the night sky. The frescoes are in bad shape but much can still be made out. We were shown around by the guard and - after a French tour group left - he was happy to show us into closed rooms, to see the mosaics, sundials and frescoes. A small tip was accepted with many thanks.

The third Azraq was older (late Roman) and was once the winter HQ of Lawrence of Arabia; while we were really hot, apparently winter can be nasty. It was Lawrence that helped the locals overthrow the Ottoman Empire in the area in 1917-18, only to find that the British and French governments decided to make the area into a series of protectorates rather than grant independence. Thus Israel, Jordan and Iraq fell under British control. The big feature here is a door carved from a single piece of rock, some eight inches thick and weighting over two tonnes; it must have been difficult to move at the best of times.

We had a disappointing lunch - tourist trap really - and then went on to the last place that day the Roman town of Umm Al Jimal. This is a little visited (i.e. our guide Hussein was lost) location about five miles from the Syrian border. The town was Roman then occupied up to the 18th century, more a working town than others we were to see later. And what buildings - built out of dark basalt rock, they stood out clearly from the surrounding countryside. Hussein persuaded the guard to give us a tour. The four of us walked around the windswept site, towers and arches standing undisturbed - apparently only four other people visited the site that day. Some of the ruins were better than the major attractions we visited later. We would have liked to explore longer, but it was just beginning to get dark. It was a fantastic and unexpected site that would take a whole day to explore fully.

The following day found us (once past the check point) at Umm Qais. This is another Roman city (its main street over a mile long) with further villages built over parts of it. The theatre is a fine example with the best seats carved from a single piece of rock. Much of the main street still stands with many upright columns lining the route. The city is set on a hill overlooking both Israel and the Golan Heights and is thus fortified for the 20th century; it also overlooks the Sea of Galilee (or Lake Tiberius).

Heading back we briefly stopped at Ajloun Castle - a crusader castle that was taken by the Sal Al Ad-Din (Saladin) family. Damaged by earthquakes, it still represents a good example of 12th century crusader castle building and design.

Jerash

Finally we arrived at Jerash, the Roman town of 1000 columns. Entry is through Hadrian's triumphant arch, past the arena and on to the columned forum and main street. This is the large oval area, perhaps an acre in size, surrounded be many upright columns, some offset following earthquakes, but a huge paved area with columns that are reminiscent of Stonehenge. Behind the forum is the theatre, from where a whisper is carried around the whole theatre. Then it was along the main street passing more columns, the hitching posts and horse mounting steps, over the road with its Roman manhole covers, past the shops and temples to climb the steps of the Diana temple. This is the highest point of the site and has some very large columns standing. 
At this point, our guide discussed earthquakes and explained how the Romans had used lead in the centre of the columns to allow the column to flex when shaken, but not break. Our guide placed a spoon on two small rocks and then wedged this under the edge of the nearest column. The spoon started to move up and down caused by the rocking movement of the column. He then placed his hand under the edge and motioned that we did this also. Now, I don't know about you, but putting your hand under 20 tonnes of 1800 year old column which is gently rocking is not the first thing you think of doing when you wake. It is, however, an amazing feeling, having your hand gently squeezed by 20 tonnes of rock moved by the wind.

However, Jerash was not the major wow that we had expected. We certainly enjoyed it, but it felt constrained after the freedom we had had to wander around in Umm Qais and Umm al Jimal.

We headed to Madaba to see the sixth century mosaic of the (then) known Christian world. Some large areas of the map are missing but the reminder is very clear. From here we went to Mt Nebo, from which it is believed Moses saw the Promised Land. There is a series of early Christian churches on the site, the last dating from around 700 AD and covered with some exquisite mosaics. Local and Danish archaeology teams maintain the site.

From here we visited the crusader castle at Karak. This is perhaps the most famous of the castles and covers a large area. Inside are huge underground stables and a market area, along with various churches and prison cells. After falling to Saladin following an 18 month siege, the castle was converted with a mosque and a larger keep. One final stop on the route for us was Showbak castle. Another crusader castle that fell not long after Karak, it is smaller and less restored/cleared out than Karak and so offers the chance to clamber into its small dark passageways.

The next morning we headed for Petra. Petra is known for the image of the Treasury, that pink stone building curved out of the rock which is, perhaps, most famous from Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The Natabateans built the first city in the 1st Century BC, and it was surrendered to the Romans in the 1st Century AD. Some buildings were converted to churches in the mid-5th century and it was destroyed in the late 6th Century by an earthquake. It is unusual for the Middle East, since there are no mosques on the site. Also, early Bronze Age material has been found. The saying is that only 20% of the site has been found; the other 80% is still there under the dust.
The visit starts at the Visitors Centre where tickets are purchased for entry and for the horses. There is a nice little scam that all tours must buy tickets for the horses for the first 800 yards down to the beginning of the canyon leading into Petra. We said we wouldn't ride them, given the alleged ill treatment of horses - but from what we saw they are making efforts to improve this. Really the only abuse we saw was a donkey carrying a very overweight woman up to the Monastery!

As you walk the first 800 yards you pass a number of carved tombs - all the rock is soft sandstone - and, as you notice the first tomb, so you notice more spreading across the hillsides. There is an elaborate tomb curved with three obelisks above the entry, another seemingly in a cone shape.

You cross the wadi and over the dam, first built in the 1st century BC to keep water and flash floods out of the siq, which drops down and travels for 1,200 yards before opening on to the Treasury. The siq is lined with a pipe system and gutter system to bring water into the city and some of the Roman pavement still covers the ground. There are a few carvings including four camels and guide, altars and reliefs.

By the time you arrive at the opening, which looks straight on to the Treasury you have walked 2,000 yards, over a mile. The Treasury is fantastic and takes the breath away. You cannot go in it, and the numbers of people milling around in a confined space make it quite noisy. However, there are other tombs all around the area. We were told that some people go no further having reached the here, but this is just the beginning. A tomb can be a square hole, opening into a hollowed out room, or a huge facade cut out of the rock with two or three rooms behind. There isn't a standard tomb. Noting remains inside them, but in one tomb in Little Petra there are some frescos on the walls and ceilings - the only ones known to remain.

Heading further along the canyon are more tombs large and small, high and low. In a moment you notice the whole canyon is honeycombed with them. A little further brings you to an amphitheatre (seating for over 2,000), again carved out of the rock, with tombs above the theatre. Further still and over on the right a little distance away are three further enormous tombs. Then the road goes left, which leads on to the Roman main street, perhaps 2/3 of a mile long. This has the remains of arches, temples, baths, theatres and markets lining the route with, on the right, a short distance away, two sets of early Christian church remains. Leading down the road over to the left are the remains of a crusader castle. The street terminates at a small restaurant complex.

From here it is a further 11/2 miles (and 800 steps up) to the Monastery, another carved building similar in design but much bigger than the Treasury. The rock colours go from a sandy colour to a pink colour, with some amazing colours produced by water seeping through and leeching out minerals. In Little Petra this is mainly magnesium. Throughout the hills are numerous tombs, some plain, some massive, some almost overwhelming, all empty and with a staggering amount of rock removed.

As an example the Monastery is 40 yards wide and 45 yards high, carved out of a rock face. The rock has gone back some 25 yards from its natural edge at its widest point. Inside the tomb is a room over 15 yards high and 25 yards wide and 20 yards deep.

My favourite memory is standing on the hill overlooking the Roman street and looking around us at all the shaped stones laying around us, noticing the faint layers of walls, the pieces of terracotta pottery. Over that was the sound of the goat and sheep bells of the local bedouins’ flocks, the snorts of the camels and donkeys that gave rides long the canyons and Roman street and finally the sounds of the local kids trying to sell trinkets and postcards.

It was a total adventure that was played out under clear blue skies with 28C heat and a relative humidity as low as 50%, walking miles and going up and down hundreds of steps and numerous hillsides. We wouldn't have missed it for the world.

First published in VISA issue 78 (Apr 2008)

Wadi Rum day and Night

by Rosie Jefferson

In early March 2011 I had the unforgettable experience of spending 24 hours in Wadi Rum desert: on a jeep tour during the day and in a Bedouin camp for the night.

Wadi Rum is the magnificent 720 square kilometres of desert and mountain landscape in south-western Jordan (about 300km south of Amman) described by TE Lawrence as ‘vast, echoing and godlike’. There is only one road into Wadi Rum and that ends at Rum village. After that, to explore the area, one needs a four-wheel-drive vehicle and a guide. But what an area to explore! Towering cliffs of weathered sandstone, basalt and granite rise out of vast open swathes of rose-red sand. It is vast, it is silent. It feels empty but is not. From the jeep we spotted paw prints of hares and foxes, s-bends of vipers, and carpets of very small blue flowers.

Our seven-hour jeep tour included seeing the remains of an ancient Nabatean Temple near Rum village, scrambling to cool springs amongst the rocks, surrounded by shading vegetation, and making our way through deep narrow fissures between high-sided rocky walls. We stopped for lunch on the shady side of an imposing rock bridge, examined ancient rock carvings deep in the desert, and marvelled at the sheer scale of the whole area. But it is the vast expanses of sand stretching in all directions, punctuated by the imposing rock formations, that come to mind when I think of Wadi Rum.

The jeep tour finished at a permanent Bedouin camp, set up for visitors, in the middle of the Wadi Rum area. I had expected open-sided tents but in March it’s still cold at night and my tent was a 10 foot cube frame covered with a double layer of woven material. The heavy outside cover was, I believe, made from goat’s hair and dyed black and white; the lighter-weight lining, made of heavy-weight cotton in red, white and black stripes; the doorway was formed by the inner lining overlapping by about 6 feet across the front of the tent; the floor covered by brightly coloured woven matting. On the floor of the rear half of the tent were four closely packed sleeping pallets, each with a pillow and a warm eiderdown.

There were about 16 people staying at the camp the night I was there, including an elderly couple en route to family in the United States but currently living in Alice Springs, three young Japanese men who had been climbing some of the Wadi Rum mountains, and an Estonian woman with two teenage children. We met in the large community tent, similar walls and floor to the sleeping tents but with a large open fire around which we sat, shoeless, on thin mattresses. We sipped the traditional hot sweet tea poured from pots kept hot by sitting on the edge of the fire and were entertained by the staff playing softly on lute and drums. I climbed a large dune behind the tents to take photos of the sunset before returning to the community tent for a buffet supper of rice, meat balls and bean stew cooked by the Sudanese chef. By 7.30pm diners were drifting off to look at the magnificence of a starry desert night and to their tents where a low energy light bulb powered by solar panels on the camp’s admin tent stayed on until 8.15pm (no light switch – all centrally operated). My tent was at the end of the line and not as sheltered from the wind as some of the others. I managed to stop the door from continuously blowing in by weighing its bottom edge down with a spare eiderdown but I lay in the dark for a long time listening to the loose tent walls flapping and the tent frame creaking before falling asleep.
I rose before dawn to climb onto the nearby rocks and take photos of the early morning mists and the sunrise. I could see for miles but not see any other person or creature. A breakfast of boiled eggs, bread and hummus and then the driver was ready to drive us over the sands back to Rum village. En route he stopped the jeep to talk with his ‘cousin’ (a term used so frequently that I believe it’s used instead of ‘good friend’) who was bringing racing camels into the desert to practise for the races.

Endless sand, imposing rocks, a night sky of a billion stars – what a 24 hours!

First published in VISA 99 (Oct 2011)