Whenever we met another foreigner in Syria, they considered us crazy for hiring a car and driving ourselves around the country. Let me say from the outset: driving in Syria is heaps of fun! There is only one rule: there are no rules. As long as you follow this, and appreciate that every one is operating in that way, you’ll be fine. Lanes, traffic lights, speed limits – all appear to be optional.
Self-drive in Syria gives you so many opportunities to visit some amazing sites. Historical ruins that are far off the beaten track, and well away from public transport (Qalaat Jabar near the Euphrates Dam is my favourite) are easy to explore. You get to meet many people at the regular fuel stops and tyre fixes who are extremely nice and friendly. You also miss out on many of the hawkers who prey on the bus stations and taxi stops. But most all, you have the opportunity to get lost.
Getting lost in Syria has several added attractions over other less glamorous places. Firstly, most of the the signs outside of the main cities are in Arabic. Secondly, there are very few signs in place. Thirdly, particularly in the desert east of the country distances between landmarks can be over 100km. Oh, and it is impossible to buy a decent driving map of Syria in Damascus or Aleppo. So we travelled with total faith in the Lonely Planet sketch map!
We got lost leaving the historic site of Rasafa and heading towards Palmyra. It should be have been a 45 minute ride to our next stop, an old fortress. 90 minutes on, and no sign of anything. Then we started to pass a huge oil field, with a lot of activity going on, and not a likely place for a historic monument. Then back into the desert, and suddenly we saw two guys on the side of the road by a motorbike flagging us down. Both had their faces covered with headscarves. On the one hand, I questioned the wisdom of picking up a hitchhiker in this remote place. On the other, we hadn’t passed a living soul for a long time on the road, and I didn’t want to leave these guys stranded.
So I stopped, and one guy got in at the back. He sat in silence, as did we, as I drove for another 20 minutes before we reached a small town. He tapped me on the shoulder, thanked me and left. Fair enough I thought, good deed done. But I soon remembered that we had absolutely no idea where we were! Thankfully, I chased after this guy who had by now met up with his mates, and using the map they showed my where we were – I refused to believe him at first; he was pointing in completely the wrong direction. Then it slowly dawned on me that in fact we had got spectacularly lost, and had travelled out on the desert road and drifted not far from the Iraqi border. Oops. We had come full circle and were now not far from our starting point. They now showed me how to get to our destination, and I realised that making our destination before nightfall would require some serious speeding.
Thankfully, unlike their neighbours in Jordan, Syrian police have no interest in sitting in their cars with radar guns. So a steady 160km/hr on a desert highway got us to Palmyra just as twilight was fading. So if you are that guy who we picked up and you read this in some Arabic translation and recognise yourself here, thank you! You were a great help. And I hope that we, in our small way, helped to promote a better view of our lot to the Syrians, who treated us throughout our stay with genuine warmth yet often asked us why the people in the west don’t like them.
(Apr 2009)
