Plaza Islas Malvinas, Ushuaia

While hitchhiking around Europe in the 80s I met a German guy who pretended to be an Icelander, and even had the Iceland flag on his backpack. He was keen to  escape the negative perception he feared he would get as a German on the roads of France or Italy. (He also presumed that young ladies would be more curious about an Icelander and want to know more about his homeland, but that’s another story). He even told me how well his cover story had evolved over the summer he’d spent on the road, and could now repeat a string of useful facts about his newly adopted nation.

I’ve met more than a few Americans who try to pass off as Canadians on their travels to avoid hostility (long before the Bush years), and I’ve met Canadians who proclaim their un-American identities as their first utterance, for fear of being mistaken for their southern neighbours. The maple leaf flag is used as the unspoken symbol to ward off evil.

There is an irony here, in that many Americans I’ve met have been humbled by the overwhelming hospitality they have received on their travels, ESPECIALLY in countries with whom their government has quarrels (I’m thinking particularly of Syria here, but I’m sure American readers can add their own experiences).

Last year we hired a driver to take us from Damascus to Beirut, and this articulate young Syrian shared with us his experiences of meeting people from around the world. When I asked him if he had many American visitors, he replied that they didn’t. “They don’t like Syrians; I don’t know why”. On the other hand I read on countless blogs written by Americans travellers who declare that they would like to go to the Middle East but feel it’s too dangerous, the implication being that they might be kidnapped or killed by terrorists.

Too often we fear that people will hold us, as tourists, responsible for the actions of our government. That we will be made to pay for the wrongs that people feel have been inflicted on their nations. But the reality is thankfully much more pragmatic.

From our experience people are intelligent enough to separate the consequences of a nation’s foreign policy from the welcome they give to an individual traveller from that country. We received nothing but warmth and kindness on our visit to Argentina, which coincided with the 25th anniversary of their conflict with the UK.

I might have some very strong disagreements with the policies of the UK government, but I still feel priveleged to hold a British passport and would not choose to hide my identity on my travels. In fact, being open with others about our opinions on international politics has led to many memorable conversations along the way.

It might suit the US and UK governments not to have thousands of tourists visiting the countries with which they are in dispute. A open flow of tourism can, after all, lead to a mutual understanding and a certain interdependence over time.

For those visitors who would like to visit a part of the world where they worry about their national standing, I would say look around and find out what those who have actually been there are saying. It’s quite likely that you will be safe to go, you won’t need to adopt an alter ego, and you will be greeted with open arms.

Is it ever right to hide your nationality? is a post from: 501 Places

Palmyra at dawn

Wandering among the impressive ruins of the great Roman cities of Palmyra or Jerash it is hard to imagine that this was the south-eastern extremity of the Roman empire. It’s a world away from the windswept isolation of Hadrian’s Wall in northern England, at the opposite end of Rome’s conquered lands. These cities are vast, and the central structures have been preserved and restored to allow us a glimpse of how these trading centres and military outposts might have looked two thousand years before.

Visiting the sites is very easy. In Jordan, the city of Jerash is only an hour from Amman. Jerash is home to Jordan’s most complete Roman ruins, and was one of the major cities in the 1st and 2nd century, mainly as a result of its location on the spice trading route northwards from the Arabian lands. It’s worth at least half a day to visit, and there is a daily chariot race on the site (we didn’t see it, but have heard very good reviews of it).

Jerash

Jerash

Jerash

Amman itself holds a number of Roman treasures; an amphitheatre in the heart of the city, and high on a hill overlooking the centre is the ancient Citadel; a short taxi ride or a brisk walk will take you to the hilltop where you can enjoy the best views of the city. The first time I was in Amman I stood at the Citadel and witnessed the Red Arrows conduct a low-altitude training exercise between the seven hills of the city; very dramatic.

The Citadel, Amman

I’ve also spent a late afternoon here on a business trip a few years ago, and enjoyed the sunset while listening to the rising crescendo of prayers coming from the many mosques on the surrounding hills. It made for a unique atmosphere that I tried (in vain) to capture on film:

Finally in Jordan, don’t forget to see the Roman ruins in Petra. While the site is renowned for its Nabatean heritage, the Roman occupied the city for several centuries and left their architectural mark here.

Roman ruins at Petra

In neighbouring Syria, the city of Palmyra is perhaps the best preserved Roman city of the region, and well worth the long drive to reach. In the heart of the Syrian desert and around three hours from Damascus, the city offers a wealth of well-kept streets and municipal  buildings. It does get very busy, so it’s worth exploring either at dusk when the tour buses have left for the day, or at dawn as we did (but bring a jacket; it can be bitterly cold before sunrise).

Syria has many other Roman sites that are worth exploring. We didn’t make it to Bosra, near to the Jordanian border, but by all accounts it’s an impressive site.

Palmyra

Palmyra

Palmyra

View of Palmyra from nearby fort

Roman cities of the Middle East is a post from: 501 Places

There are numerous stories of similar scams doing the rounds on the internet and via travellers’ gossip. After all, if you are going to pull a scam you’re hardly going to dress up as a one-eyed gangster. A young innocent-looking backpacker couple is an excellent front for a hustle.

We faced this situation many years ago while waiting to board a train from Paris to Calais. We did buy the couple a ticket to Calais and a ferry crossing to England, when £40 was a big chunk of my weekly pay. Handing over the cash along with our address to send a cheque when they returned home, we accepted that we were acting purely on our faith in their honesty.

The cheque arrived two days after we got home, and we felt a lot better for helping these two people.

Another situation arose last year that I mentioned in previous posts. We were driving a hire car along a remote desert road in eastern Syria and saw two men, faces covered, flagging us down. I quickly worked out that their motorbike had clearly broken down and they needed a ride. I had a quick choice to make. Do I pick up a mysterious stranger in this desolate place and accept the risks that go with it or do I drive on, knowing that we hadn’t passed a car for over an hour on this road?

I pulled over, he jumped in without a word and tapped me on the shoulder a while later as we passed through a small town.

Both of these situations required an element of blind trust. In one the risk was a loss of some cash, in the other it could have been our personal safety. If we had followed the many ‘stay safe’ tips that insurers, government advisers and many websites provide we would have acted differently in both cases.

I don’t want to paint us out as some type of travelling Mother Teresas. For the cases where we have helped there will be others that we have driven on by, or made our apologies and left people to ask others for help.

But maybe if we take a step back, helping strangers on our travels is perhaps an essential part of what we should be doing. After all, if we look at ourselves travelling through another land, aren’t we the strangers often looking for help from others? Don’t we expect others to place that blind trust in us, in order to give us directions, help or unexpected hospitality? Sharing these moments and others like them have made for some of our most memorable adventures.

We will all meet scammers from time to time, and the ability to detect them is not an exact science. We will inevitably dismiss some honest folk with the mark of trickery while succumbing to an occasional trickster. But to close our eyes to each and every person’s requests for help for fear of deception misses the very essence of what our travels should be about; and can deprive us of some of the most meaningful rewards to go with those new passport stamps.

Related posts:

The fun of being rescued by strangers – a story of a young Kyrgyz girl helping us out of a sticky situation

Lost in Syria – could be good night Iraq! – self-drive adventures in the Syrian desert

A stranger in need: the traveller’s dilemma of trust is a post from: 501 Places

Easter Celebrations, Damascus

It might not be the most famous place to celebrate Easter, but the chances are that this most important date in the Christian calendar has been marked in Damascus for more years than in any other city. Syria has a large Christian minority and as we happened to be in Damascus last year over the Easter weekend we were able to observe a part of the celebrations, albeit by chance.

The Greek Orthodox church, to which the majority of Syrian Christians belong, celebrates Easter one week after the feast is marked in western Europe. As a result we had arrived in Damascus unaware of the significance of the date. We had spent Easter Sunday in Beirut and had seen no suggestion of any religious celebrations. On the following day we chose to wander through the old Damascene streets, enjoying the unique sounds, sights and above all the wonderful tastes that tempt you from every corner.

Syrian Scouts' parade, Damascus

Having wandered through the Christian quarter and almost ready for lunch, we made our way towards the central area when we heard the heavy beating of drums and the chanting of crowds in the distance. With the words of all government advisories about steering clear of any public demonstrations ringing in our ears, we set off to investigate.

It took a while to find the source of all this noise, but as we approached a large church in the centre of the old city we saw literally thousands of people observing and taking part in a large parade. Leading the parade were what appeared to be a troop of scouts, carrying the national flag alongside other unrecognisable standards. The atmosphere was one of boisterous celebration, and it was a noisy but enjoyable spectacle to step into. We watched the parade for several minutes as they filed in a haphazard way into the church.

Al Khawali, Damascus

By that time we were more than ready for lunch, and stumbled across an old Damascene house that was now a superb restaurant, offering some top quality food.

Syria was full of such surprises for us, and the easy mingling of its Christian and Muslim populations is somewhat at odds with the poor reputation it suffers in the west. But then how often do we travel to a country that is considered risky by many, and find tolerance, open arms and warm hospitality?

Related post: Old Damascus – a place to lose yourself

Easter in Syria is a post from: 501 Places

It's always exciting to explore a new city

‘How do you eat yours?’ So asks the successful ad campaign for Cadbury’s (or should that be Kraft’s?) Creme Eggs. The point being that faced with eating the same egg shaped piece of chocolate, people will adopt a disturbing diversity of approaches to the task.

And surely the same observation applies to visiting a new city. You arrive at your accommodation and drop your bags. The day is still young and it’s time to explore. What is your strategy? Here are just a few of the most obvious approaches. Maybe you fit into one of these. Or maybe there’s a big group I’ve missed out entirely?

1. The military general. The map is pulled out in the hotel and double checked. A series of points have been carefully marked out, and a line drawn to join the dots. You know exactly where you’ll go and what you want to see, and you will follow this route come hell or high water. You have even chosen a place where you will eat, and know the time at which you will reach this spot. Reservations booked of course.

2. The bar hopper. You have the names of the favourite hang-outs as listed in your guidebook, and you immediately head for these watering holes. You’ll step out for some fresh air and visit the nearby sights if you have time, but if the craic is good then what’s the point? It’s the people who make a place memorable and you’re surrounded by a great crowd already, so why leave?

3. The tourist in denial. You have read the many stories warning you not to look like a tourist. So you have your map, but you never look at it in public, only letting it see the light of day when safely locked in a toilet cubicle. You won’t ask for directions in case people pick up that you’re not from round these parts and cart you away to be slayed as a human sacrifice. So you go from memory, having studied the map in detail before you left, and rely on frequent trips to the bathroom to recheck your coordinates.

4. The fearless wanderer. Not for you the predictability of a map or a guidebook. You’re straight into the heart of the action, and the smells and sights will guide you on your way. You don’t care if you won’t see the must-see sights. Within an hour you’ll be deeply engrossed in a conversation with local people, sharing photos of your family and being invited to eat the insides of a goat that will be slaughtered in your honour at a mountain cabin.

5. The useless planner. You want to be organised, and you’ve spent ages reading the guide books and studying the maps. You set off with a strong idea of what you want to see and how you are going to get there. And then it all goes wrong. You get distracted by a food stall that serves something you can’t resist, and then you get lost and end up somewhere you shouldn’t be. When you get out your map you realise you’re miles from where you thought you were, and you end up looking at glum suburbs and getting back to your lodgings exhausted and having seen little of what you’d planned.

I suspect we can identify a little of ourselves in many of these styles. For myself I would have to confess to fitting mostly into the last category. I don’t know why I bother planning. Last year we arrived in Damascus and as we were staying less than a mile from the Old City I decided to leave the guide book in the hotel and just make our way there and explore the narrow lanes and the souk. We spent over an hour wandering a series of narrow lanes, thinking that it really wasn’t that nice and wondering why there were no tourists. It eventually clicked that we were in the wrong part of the city altogether! Thankfully we had three more days to find the real Old City…

5 approaches to exploring a new city is a post from: 501 Places

The old city of Khiva

Mention that you are travelling to most Muslim countries and you are likely to get a look of concern. “Is it safe?”;  “Why do you want to go there?”; “I don’t understand why they don’t like us”; all likely reactions if you live in the US or UK. And this is a shame, as people miss out on some of the best experiences that travel has to offer. Not only does the experience of travelling in the countries where Islam is the predominant faith offer an exposure to the way of life for over a billion Muslims and potentially foster a greater understanding of this religion; it also gives the traveller the opportunity to visit some incredibly beautiful places.

Islam is the dominant faith in a large bloc that spreads eastwards from Morocco across North Africa, through the Middle East, into Central and Southern Asia and on to Indonesia. It covers the birthplace of major civilisations, historic battles, formidable dynasties and scientific and technological breakthroughs. The legacy of this rich history is seen in the mosques, madrassas, libraries, tombs and fortifications, while many countries in this region are home to some of the most important historical sites from other faiths, many of which have been preciously preserved and restored.

Damascus street scene

A trip through Syria can provide amazing insights into the Crusader Christian invasions and the Roman occupation of this area; likewise in Libya some of the world’s finest Roman ruins can be found. Central Asia (in particular Uzbekistan) is home to some of the finest Islamic architecture, carefully restored during the last hundred years by the Soviets and later the Uzbeks. And in Indonesia you can admire the Hindu temples around Bali, an output of that faith for around 400 years.

Having recently travelled through Syria and before that Central Asia, one of the most enduring memories is not so much the stunning architectural treasures, but the people we met while there. Across both places we were met with an understated warmth: no fussing, no overly exuberant welcome; just a respect and curiosity that was easy to reciprocate. In Syria as in neighbouring Jordan, it is universal practice to ask any visitor where they are from and immediately reply “you’re welcome”. In Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, where English is little spoken, greetings are often exchanged in warm smiles.

Roman city of Palmyra, Syria

Central Asia has blended Islam into its local nomadic cultures, and thrown in a bit of Russian into the bargain. So you may find your hosts eating with the right hand only, adopting many of the superstitions associated with nomadic dwelling and yet toasting you with the finest vodka. In Syria too, wine flows freely in the old houses and courtyards of Damascus and Aleppo while the call to prayer rings out in the background. Yet in both places an underlying modesty was evident in the people we met. There were no rowdy people in the streets, we felt completely safe walking through the cities late in the evening (much more so than I ever would in London), and people would be only too willing to help us when we needed directions.

Certain elements of our media appear only to eager to paint a dim picture of an entire faith and its people, and perhaps in our own view of the world it is often easy to place our perceptions into clealy labelled black and white categories. This is where the experience of travel can offer us such great insights, and a trip to the Muslim world will certainly challenge any such assumptions. I suspect the average “man on the street” in Damascus or Tripoli associates his underlying values and beliefs far more closely with his counterpart in London and New York than with an extremist or terrorist.

The more the different cultures of the world are able to mingle and learn about one another, the more we will realise how alike we are. I spoke with an American tour operator recently who runs a Bridges to Islam programme in the US, where non-Muslim people are able to visit a mosque and spend time talking with the local Muslim people. What a great idea, I thought. I was very pleased to hear that the programme was also their most popular one, and took it as a positive sign that there is an appetite to learn about the similarities between different faiths and cultures as well as the differences.

Travelling through the Islamic world is a post from: 501 Places

In any other place these impressive medieval structures would attract many visitors. In Hama, around 200 km north of Damascus, they go largely unnoticed, apart from the occasional tour group passing on its way between the Syrian capital and Aleppo. Yet these giant wheels, mainly dating from the 15th century, dot the city and the banks of the Orontes river and provide a unique backdrop.

The norias, as they are called, were the ingenious way to lift the water from the Orontes river to the higher levels of the surrounding aqueducts and land. Although there were once many more, now only 17 norias survive and are in various state of disrepair.

We stopped in Hama on our way to Aleppo, and parked up our little hire car on the main road. As elsewhere in Syria we attracted some curious glances as we got out, and made our way to the river banks. Having seen the wheels in pictures beforehand I was very interested to visit this city. I found the norias to be even more impressive than expected for their size and their locations, although a little sad for their state of repair.

Hama is a nice place to pass a few hours in any case, and has a little maze of an old town; a few winding alleys that hug the western river bank. This was once a lot larger, but in the brutal government-led bombardment of 1982, later known as the Hama massacre, the old city was almost completely destroyed in a battle to flush out a rebellious group of insurgents. No evidence of this recent bloody history is seen, and any mention of the subject is strictly taboo in Syria.

We wandered into a big old house that is now a restaurant and enjoyed a big lunch. Clearly geared up for passing tourists they even produced an English menu for us.

It was only a short stop before we drove on to the Dead Cities of the north (a series of long abandoned settlements – but that will make another post!) Hama is a good stopping point if you are passing through, and without doubt the site of a set of unique historical attractions.

Hama, Syria and its noria wheels is a post from: 501 Places

We stayed around 3km from the city centre, and after getting ripped off a couple of times by taxi drivers (small amounts but always irritating) we started to walk into the city. And what a great move that was! The walk was little over half an hour, but we passed a true cross-section of Aleppan life. Barbers, mechanics, butchers all going about their business from early morning and still there when we were walking home at 11pm. Cafes vibrant and serving out strong tar-like coffee (for men only). And the chaotic traffic, always hooting of horns yet rarely any signs of aggression from the multitude of drivers.

Aleppo itself is a city of two halves. The old city is a maze of charming lanes that make up the suq, with tradesmen of every possible type inhabiting tiny units amid the damp and humid covered area, broken up occasionally by a simple mosque nestled between the stalls. We found it much more fun than its counterpart in Damascus; better prices, less crowded with foreign visitors, and more intimate. The centrepiece of the old town is the Citadel, which is well worth at least a half day and forms the backdrop of every postcard in the city. Raised high on a natural mound, it certainly creates a stunning landmark.

The new city is quite different. Full of trendy shops and cafes, many historic buildings jostle for attention with old treasures. We passed five beautiful old churches in one street on our way to dinner. Talking of which, the cherry kebabs! We ate in an old town house, of which there are several. Syrian mansions from years gone by, now converted to upscale restaurants and using their beautiful courtyards to house their diners. We had a wide range of dishes, and the cherry kebabs stood out for us. Tender, tasty lamb soaked and served in a cherry juice that was sweet and yet not overpowering. Meat at its best! A great dining experience all round, with very reasonable prices and excellent service.

Aleppo was a fantastic place to explore. Wonderful Syrian hospitality, fascinating, safe, lively, and full of surprises. And if you tire of the city itself there are many great places to visit within an hour’s drive, such as St Simeons Church and the Dead Cities. Now I am happy to know not only where Aleppo is, but also a little of the delights that this remarkable city has to offer.

(Apr 2009)

Aleppo: a wealth of history. And cherry kebabs. is a post from: 501 Places

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)

Lost in Syria – could be good night Iraq! is a post from: 501 Places

Unlike many old cities, the lanes and alley of Damascus are still teeming with life. Souqs, family shops, cafes, mosques and churches are squeezed into the smallest spaces as a busy flow of local people and visitors go about their business. Walk through the main street of the souq, or along Straight St, and you will see a cosmopolitan blend of residents doing their shopping, western tourists snapping photos or browsing in shops and a multitude of tourists from neighbouring Arab countries. To the east of the main commercial area is the Umayyad Mosque, where an air of calm pervades and the shouts from the traders fade into a distant hum amid the quiet of the holy site. A little further on, and the change in attire of the women in the street is a clear sign that you are entering the Christian quarter.

For us, one of the highlights of wondering through Old Damascus was getting the chance to peer into some of the Damascene houses. Remarkably unremarkable on the outside, and yet behind an old delapidated door we suddenly came upon a beautiful courtyard, with fountains, vibrant floral displays and buildings that had been lovingly preserved. While some are marked on the map as historic sites and even take a small entry fee, others are just glimpsed through a chance open door, and a smile and wave to the owner saw us welcomed in to admire an oasis of calm in a bustling city.

Damascus is one of my favourite cities. Good food, wonderful people, a sense of safety at any time of day or night, and a photographer’s dream with so many wonderful buildings and gardens hidden within its heart.

(April 2009) Link to nice site on old Damascene houses

Old Damascus – a place to lose yourself is a post from: 501 Places