Damascus Well I left Palmyra in my usual slow, faffing kind of way. No crack-of-bloody-dawn starts for me! The previous night I'd met up briefly with my Brazilian friends who bragged about the best falafel they had ever had, picked up from a little stand just across from my hotel. Starving as I was, and fed up of paying tourist prices for meals (delicious though they may be), I raced off to eat. I had skipped lunch and riding all day had built up a real hunger, but it was all good: just one person in the queue in front of me. No worries, I would eat soon.... Or would I? ...I watched the guy in front proceeded to order falafel after falafel - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, TEN!!? It was
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