Miles to Go

The adventure begins
Amman, Damascus, Palmyra
I should have realised that going from Melbourne to Palmyra (middle of Syria) in one haul, after a 12 hour unplanned stopover in Bangkok, was a bad idea.

Got to share taxi stand in Amman for the trip to Damascus. 3 years ago the share taxi trip to Damascus was a debacle - for those that haven't heard the story please read on - the rest of you can just skip ahead.

Feb 2006 - Craig and I get a share taxi (normal cab, 4 people pay a set price for each seat), there's 3 passengers, us and a Syrian girl. We pay our $10 and arrange to go to Baramke terminal in Damascus. The driver seems dodgy, he's sleazy and he's driving around in circles trying to get us to pay for the 4th seat so we can go. We pay. The whole way to the Syrian border this guy is trying to sleaze onto the Syrian girl, trying to stop to buy her tea and well, being a total tosser. We get to the border then the fun starts, he tells Craig and I that it's extra money from here and tries to get more money out of us. I've had it by now and get angry and threaten him with the police (lots around at this point) so he behaves a bit.

We get to the outskirts of Damascus and he announces "Damascus" and stops the cab and gets out. This is not Baramke. The Syrian girl leaves. Craig and I are standing next to the cab, with my getting angry and Craig being quiet and looking somewhat scared (of what I might do to the cab driver). Other cabs pull over, people start to cluster around, I'm refusing to backi down and in pigeon english and hand signals I am telling the assembled crowd that we pay our money and want to go to Baramke, I am getting nods of yes right and a few people having a go at the cabby (no-one likes Jordan cab drivers so they were an easy crowd to win over).

More people start gathering, clearly the most drama anyone has seen for days - but neither me nor the cabby are going to back down, we both want to save face. In exasperation the cabby goes to the boot and tries to pull out our backpacks - I hop in the boot and sit on backpacks, cross my arms and say "Baramke". The crowd quietens. Craig starts to look really worried. The driver gets his wallet out and pays another cabby to take us to Baramke. Much stifled giggling from the crowd. Our new driver is telling the story to all the other drivers as we go along. Hilarious to all the other drivers. It takes me a day to see the funny side of it.....

Anyway back to 2008.

After my last experience I was not feeling so hot about getting the share taxi again - but I'm not one to learn from my mistakes so I try it again. I'm half expecting to see my picture up with a "warning - do not take this crazy woman to Damascus".

This time I'm sharing with Mahammoud and his daughter, Rina. Rina lives in Lebanon but holds a Jordanian passport and has been in Amman for the day trying to work out how to get her new born baby daughter a Jordanian passport - Rina's husband is a Palestinian. She couldn't get one and is keen to get home to her baby. I should add Rina is in full burkha, and clearly was not allowed to go to Amman without a male relative. I decide to pay for the extra seat so we can get a move on. M and R are just lovely. I have somewhere to stay in Beirut anytime I am in that town. We get to Damascus and an argument starts between M and the cabby - something about Baramke is all I call tell. Yep, he doesn't want to go to Baramke. This I cannot believe. Argument continues. And continues. We stop and get out. Argument continues. But no theatrics required this time. Cabby hands over enough for the fare to Baramke to M and we head off.
Anyway M takes me to the bus station for Palmyra, totally out of his way, but he really wanted to help. He gets me to the right counter for my ticket and bids me farewell - what a sweet old guy.

I head over to bus. Strap on backpack breaks, I stumble and fall over, backpack falls to ground in mud puddle. humiliating. Find sewing kit and sit on steps, with a growing audience and do some emergency repairs.

Was very happy to get to Palmyra that night - some 50 hours after I left Melbourne.