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We left Palmyra as scheduled and headed for the village of Al Husn, about 225 km from Palmyra in the western part of the country. The village itself has nothing much to offer but is dominated by the Krak des Chevalier, likely the world's largest and most intact Crusader Fortress. It was built in the 12th century and has had a succession of tenants who added onto it; however it was only ever captured once.
During the drive we got to know our new friends Laurent and Anne a bit better. By consulting both our travel guides, and having taken advice from the New Zealanders we met the day before, we decided on the Baiber Hotel, a tiny little inn with a view of the Krak.
The Castle is at an altitude of about 1300 meters, which made for some pretty dodgy driving up some narrow goat paths. After a succession of switchbacks and curves up the mountain, the mighty castle suddenly appeared, and what a sight to behold in an otherwise baron countryside. There are a few hotels around the Krak itself but most seemed pretty deserted, including ours. It would seem that most visitors make the Krak
Syrian Royalty?
Lots of great spelling on translated signs in this part of the worlda daytrip from either Damascus or the coastal city of Tartous.
After checking in, our foursome, consisting of the 2 of us and the Belgians, walked from the hotel to the entrance of the Krak on a road with lines dividing 2 opposing lanes, but clearly barely wide enough for one. Most of the traffic we encountered was late model Chinese made motorcycles or goats, so it seemed to serve its purpose just fine.
We entered the Krak paying the admission of 150 Syrian pounds. I've been meaning to mention that the Syrian tourism ministry makes no qualms about advertising 2 prices at all historical sites, one for Syrians and the other for foreigners. The latter is 10 times that of the former.
We spent a few hours exploring this Castle which likely looked a lot like it would have 500 years ago. The kitchen was still there, as were the baths and latrines and the command tower. Trusting our guide book, we had brought along our headlamps in order to explore the depths of the Krak, they came in handy, although a few passageways were a little too creepy to go down.
After our visit,
we retired to the hotel for some rest and TV; we met up with our friends again for dinner, deciding to follow the hotel owner's advice and head to a restaurant called "La Table Ronde". On the way there, we also checked out another place but decided to move on because it was deserted. We found La Table Ronde to be deserted as well. In fact the whole area had a weird feeling to it after the sun disappeared due to the lack of tourists. In the smaller Syrian venues, the restaurants all have an identical menu, so not much to choose from, especially if you have been in the Middle East for 7 weeks like Laurent and Anne!
Erin and I ordered a kebab dish and when it was brought to us, Anne pointed out that the Kebab seemed to be moving. A closer inspection revealed an ant crawling out from under the meat. When I called the owner over, we noticed another ant. He began searching through the dish by hand and removed the ants, explaining in his limited English that this was not a problem as the meat was well cooked. I explained to him that
Al Husn
seen from Krak this was a big problem to us and that we did not want it. We settled for eating the various appetizers (hummus, etc) while Anne and Laurent ate their chicken. After the ant sighting though, everything was eaten with caution. Following the meal the bill was presented to us and the ant loving restaurant owner had charged us for the meal we did not eat. I was too tired to argue and could already see the futility of trying to do so. I figured I would just write a strongly worded letter at a later time...
Back at the hotel, the 4 of us discussed travel plans over some Lebanese beer. Erin and I had been thinking of scratching Damascus from our list simply because we no longer had the energy to navigate a big Middle Eastern city with no signage by car and fight the world's most insane drivers. Laurent and Anne had originally planned on taking a bus to Homs and maybe taking a bus from there to Maloula, a small mountain town where they still speak Arameic, the language that Christ spoke.
Laurent told us that he had met a French guy who had spent
4 days in Maloula staying at a Monastery. The guy said it was a great experience and that the monastery takes travellers in on a regular basis in exchange for a donation. There are 2 convents and a monastery in Maloula, which is 40 km north of Damascus. The guide books concur with the French guy and it would seem that they do in fact take in visitors at these places. We all agreed to travel there together in the morning.
We arrived in Maloula at noon. We first went to the convent of Saint Thekla. It was Sunday so there were regular services going on. Apparently Thekla performed several miracles including splitting a mountain in half so she could flee her persecutors. We could not find anyone to talk to about rooms and ended up being invited into a large hall to meet a man I think was a bishop or another high ranking clergyman. We sat in an uncomfortable silence with some other tourists who we found out later were Austrian Military Policemen on leave from the Golan Heights UN peacekeeping mission between Syria and Israel. At one point, one of the MP's, in an apparent effort
to break the uncomfortable silence, asked the Bishop if he was "the chief of this place". That sentence became a running gag for us for the rest of the trip.
I asked about the rooms and was told that there were indeed rooms for people who wanted some spiritual relaxation. The 4 of us felt quite uncomfortable there and decided to move on. We explored Maloula for a couple of hours and ran into an American girl travelling to Lebanon. Over lunch we decided to move on to Aleppo with Anne and Laurent. This brought us into Aleppo a day earlier than we had planned on returning.
Upon arriving in the city, we asked a cab driver for directions back to the Sheraton where the car rental office is. He opted to lead us there and upon arriving, did not stick around long enough for me to give him a tip. Just another selfless gesture from a stranger we encountered in this part of the world.
Erin and I opted to stay at a Hotel called Planet, which was listed as a 4-star. In Syria, even hotel prices are negotiable and we got it at the same
rate as the place we had stayed at a few days earlier. Laurent and Anne were on a bit more of a budget given the length of their adventure and stayed at the Baron Hotel, which once had Agatha Christie as a guest as well as other famous characters.
I was actually a little envious of Laurent and Anne's adventure; I saw them as the real deal. They had travelled overland through all these Middle Eastern countries with their backpacks, deciding where they would stay on a day to day basis.
We met the 2 of them for supper that night, and at our suggestion, went to the "Roof" restaurant where we had been with my younger relatives a few nights earlier. There we had pizza, mozza sticks and fries, a nice change from the now all too familiar Syrian staples.
The next day, Erin and I strolled the Souks trying to fill Erin's gift list for back home. The weather was oppressively hot and we couldn't stand to be out for very long. In the late afternoon, we were invited to my relative’s home for dinner. We ended up spending the evening visiting and heading to
bed relatively early.
Laurent and Anne had spoken to a guy about a cab to return to Turkey on Tuesday. He had agreed to take the 4 of us for 3000 pounds or about $60. At 9:00 we were on our way. We cleared Syrian immigration quite fast and Erin and I were stamped into Turkey without having to spend the $140 on Visas that we had anticipated, as the one we had bought at the Airport was for single entry only. So basically we were all set but the Belgians needed Visas. Theirs were only €10. They gave €20 to the driver who went to buy the Visas while we all waited at immigration chatting with the Turkish cop. He seemed to like my last name as he kept calling me Conan...
When the driver got back, he demanded an extra €10 from Laurent pointing at the Visa that said 15. However the Visa said 15 dollars which is 10 Euros. The policemen gave him a look that said "I know you are trying to screw these people and it won't happen", he then stamped their passports and we were ready to leave, but our driver wasn't.
Best I can figure is that he did not have the right insurance for Turkey, and at one point it seemed he wanted to borrow 3000 pounds from us to buy insurance. We told him no way and he ended up disappearing for almost an hour while we roasted in the hot sun at the frontier between Syria and Turkey. He ended up borrowing money from some other cab driver to buy his insurance.
Finally we were off to Antakya. Once we arrived there, the driver told us we each owed him 500 pounds for the Syrian departure tax he paid for us. First of all, the tax doesn't exist, secondly I never saw him pay for anything on the Syrian side, and lastly, he had very little bargaining power left once he delivered us to our destination. We all walked away laughing. Here's a tip: if you are going to extort people for more money, do it before you reach their destination...
At Antakya we said our goodbyes to Anne and Laurent. They were really fun to hang out with and we will miss them and stay in touch for sure. If you guys are reading this,
you need to come to Canada soon.
We hopped on a Dolmus (minibus) to Iskenderun to grab the gear we had left there and headed out that evening on a bus bound for Antalya.
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Laurent and Anne
non-member comment
Thr real deal
Thanks so much for this. Anne and I are now in Efes giggling at this piece, all the memories came flooding back, the Austrians, the ants and the mean taxi driver: NO YOURE FULL OF SHIT!!!!! LOL We'll give you a full update when we get back home in a couple of weeks, hope you are both well xxxx