Nothing blinding happened on the road to Damascus

Day 35

Woke up early to catch a taxi to the bus station. There was no one around on reception so I walked to the hotel down the road where the New Zealand couple were staying. Outside I spoke with the receptionist who said that 2 people inside were waiting on a taxi for the bus station and I could then catch one with them. When I walked inside, it was the New Zealand couple waiting - its a small travellers world.

Yet again, Syrian buses did not let me down and I was on the Damascus bus within 10 mins of arriving at the bus station. Nothing biblical happened on the road to Damascus - it was just lots of flat sandy plains and hills.

On arriving at the bus station which was about 6kms from the city centre, I was greeted by taxi touts who quoted 300 Syrian pounds for the city centre. This was more that it had cost me from Palmyra to Damascus. I walked about 500m from the bus station and hailed down a taxi and made him put his meter on (Daul Meta, Ameli Ma'Aruf). The fare was 100 Syrian Pounds. Whahoo - I was turning into a savvy traveller and had saved 2 English pounds in the process!

So much for any scorching heat in Damascus, it was raining. It felt like being in August in Manchester (not like August in Leeds). I had heard that the best attractions in Damascus were the main mosque and the old town.

At the edge of the old town, there was a citadel which Lonely Planet said was not open to the public. However, today the place was open for a children's fun fair. There was a few rides, people dressed up in furry cartoon characters and a big stage (on which nothing was happening) but had quite a few tv cameras aimed at it. It seemed that the cameras in Syria were following me - maybe it was a sign or maybe (and very probably) it was not.

I then saw a Saladin statue near the entrance to the main Damascus souq. Considering this guy is meant to be one of the greatest Arabs ever, it is surprising that his horseback statue wasn't any bigger or more grandiose.

One thing that I noticed immediately was that I no longer felt that I was welcome in Syria. The 'hello' greeting that I constantly received in Aleppo and Palmyra had come to a grinding halt. In addition, it seemed that every kid (not just most) was playing with guns. Whilst the handgun appeared to be the preferred weapon of choice, many kids opted for the shotgun or semi-automatic weapon.

And then to the souq which was bigger and wider and in a better setting than the Aleppo souq but it was similar in that plenty of rubbish was being sold. This souq was more madder than the Aleppo souq. This one seems like a football match at the end when everyone is heading for the exit but no-one actually knows where the exit is.

At the end of the souq, there was a roman archway that led to the famous mosque. The square in front of the mosque was hectic and crazy as well. It was full of more people who also looked like they did not know where they were going.

It was now only 3pm and I made my way to the ticket office of the Mosque only to be told that it had been closed for the day - I certainly was not expecting this scenario and it put my plans into chaos as I really wanted to see the mosque but I also had been looking for an early exit from Damascus in the morning.

However, I was really happy with the rest of the old city of Damascus which was beautiful. The old city had a city wall which was decaying in all the right places. The street would go very narrow and then very wide and houses would have sandstone walls with second floor wooden exteriors. The place looked like it had been falling apart at the seams for about the last 100 or so years but I felt that the place would remain in the same state for the next 100 years.

Apart from different places of worship, there was not much difference between the normal parts of the old city and the Christian and Jewish quarters. They were all top notch (in an old and decrepit sort of way).

More things that I had noticed was that the preferred hair style of choice for the Damascan male was the grease back look. The greasier the better as well - maybe Damascus had just discovered brylcream in a big, big way.

Damascus was less religious than Aleppo as the burkha count had definitely gone alot down but it was still visible and now was on a par with Bolton. In fact, some women here were even showing some flesh (though not many of them and not much flesh either). Even in the souq, they were selling 'sexy-ish' lingerie.

In addition to the grease back look, I think that going commando is the preferred choice of male underwear (or lack of) in Damascus. In most countries, where a stall sells socks then they will always sell underpants. Not here though and there were loads of stalls selling socks. I had been hoping to buy a couple of pairs of underpants for about £1 but alas my extensive range of underpants had to remain at 4 pairs.

I headed out later when it went dark and unfortunately, the night and the lights lighting up the place added no sparkle to Damascus. After losing my football shorts/swimming wear in the Ukraine, I thought that I would seek out a new pair on the cheap as chips stalls. Unfortunately, the only pair that I found that looked any good had a Syrian emblem on them (I didn't think that they would go do well if I went swimming in Israel unless I opted for skinny dipping look).

Day 36

There were two places that I wanted to see before leaving Damascus. The first was Azem Palace which was meant to be like a Turkish bath type palace. The second was Ulmayyad Mosque which was meant to be one of the best Mosques in the world.

It was about 9.30am when I was walking through the old town of Damascus and many of the areas were virtually deserted. It was very odd compared to absolute madness of bodies from the day before.

I arrived at Azem Palace to be told by an Arab that the place was 'Ferme Demaine' - my GCSE French was good enough to tell me that no-one was going to see the palace until next week.

Some of the stalls near the Mosque were starting to open up and so I had a go at haggling. I ended up purchasing a pair of football shorts/swimming trunks for the grand old price of £2. Hmmm, I thought I did good but I bet that an Arab might have got them for 50p. Well, at least there was no sign of a Syrian emblem on my purchase.

It was now time for the Mosque and what a Mosque it was! If it wasn't for the suicide bombing and Ramadan fasting then this place could have made convert to Islam (only joking). The place was absolutely stunning, grand and massive. It was definitely worth delaying my trip to Jordan for.

And so back to the hostel, more people were now appearing on the streets before I headed to the bus station where the buses to Amman were supposed to be.

Upon arriving at bus station around 11am, I was bombarded by taxi drivers saying that they would take me to Amman in Jordan. I was thinking, 'Erm, no thanks - I think that I will catch the cheaper bus thanks' until I was told by the ticket office that all the buses that day were full.

At one end of the bus station, there were quite a few taxi drivers behind a railing at the designated area for shared taxis to Jordan but it was a mad scum of dodgy looking blokes shouting,'Jordan, Amman' and quoting higher prices than the guys at the front of the bus station. As such, I thought that I fancied my chances more with taxi drivers at the front of the station.

One guy said that he had another guy going to Amman and so only needed 2 more which he said would take 10 mins. The other guy could not speak English but I worked out that he was Jordanian and that he was going to Amman. The taxi driver was slow to come back and so the Jordanian started to give the taxi driver some hassle.

Eventually, the taxi driver gave in and so we got in a taxi and were on our way. Along the way, the Jordanian was shouting out 'Deraa' (which was the name of the border crossing) to people waiting by the side of the road. I presumed that he was helping the guy fill up his taxi in order to make money due to the under-occupancy. We ended up picking two guys up.

The taxi then kept stopping. First, a tea break. Second, a toilet break. Third, to fill up. Fourth, to buy fruit at the side of the road. Fifth, to drop one of the new passengers off. Sixth, to drop the second of the new passengers off. Finally, to change taxi drivers! I was wondering what on earth was going on.