Open Writing

Living in Saudi Arabia, we have the good fortune to explore neighbouring countries by car, thus saving us time and money and, supposedly, ensuring an easier, hassle-free trip.

Leaving Riyadh at 5 am in the midst of a Middle East winter we experienced the full gamut of weather; from sandstorms to heavy rains. Twelve hours later, on arrival at a small town near the Jordanian border, the Jeep was coated in three inches of mud and even the lights were having a hard time shining through.

We checked into ‘the nicest hotel in the town’ which meant a hard bed with sheets that may or may not have been recently laundered and a bathroom you couldn’t swing a mouse in – let alone a cat. Many of the lesser towns and cities across the Middle East lack halfway decent hotels but have the freedom to label their 2-star accommodations as 5-star.

We crossed into Jordan with no problems the following morning and drove directly north for 90 minutes to the Syrian border. However, the Syrian formalities proved far more interesting and, although we had completed our visas in Riyadh, bribery was the name of the game if we wanted to gain entry to this country. By the time we were driving towards Damascus, we had spent a full six hours completing formalities at both borders and spent two hundred US dollars extra.

It was late afternoon before we reached Damascus and as we hadn’t planned to stay there due to its large population and traffic congestion, we continued onwards towards the Mediterranean coast. As luck would have it, just as we reached the off-ramp we needed, the police shut the road down and we were stuck in crawling traffic on a narrow road. Trucks and cars navigated through oncoming traffic and frustrated drivers took shortcuts across the dirt tracks to reach the main highway.

By this time we were seriously worried about our fuel situation. We were down to 70 kilometres of fuel (the beauty of car computers) and, once traffic got going again, were using it up quickly. Now we knew why there were such long queues at the two petrol stations we had rejected earlier. It turned out that, while there is a petrol station on every corner of the desert in Saudi Arabia, Syria did not work the same way.

After considering our dwindling options we ended up taking an exit ramp to a small village in the hopes we would find fuel as we now had less than 20 kilometres in the tank. We made enquiries at the local store and were pointed in the direction of a home business selling fuel from a tank in the front yard. The place was Maamoula, a mainly Christian town carved out of the towering rocks. It was like looking at a postcard with its narrow, steep streets and tiny homes and shops, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find anywhere to stay, so a while later we were on the road again, in falling darkness.

The following day we headed for Lattakia on the north coast towards Turkey, and stopped to explore a fantastic castle along the way: the 1,000-year-old Crac Des Chevaliers. This is one of many castles of the crusades, however, this one was never taken by Salahuddin, the Muslim warrior. Fresh snow blanketed the ground and castle steps and we froze with a few other tourists silly enough to believe the castle would open at 9am just because the sign said so. A while later we found ourselves a Syrian tour guide (or he found us) and spent the next couple of hours wandering through the huge, well-maintained castle. I could almost hear the sound of horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestones as the knights made their way through the great corridors.

While driving into Lattakia that afternoon, a taxi driver waved and pulled alongside, honking his horn. We thought it might have been because I was busy photographing the streets and shops from the car but he just wanted to show us some rental villas at a ‘good’ price. Against our better judgement we had a look at a couple but they were small and cold, even though they were in an ideal position right on the Mediterranean. We checked into Le Meridien instead, for $100 a night, which was less than the Syrian agent wanted for his villas. It was in a nice spot with its own beach and we spent two nights there while exploring the local area.

One place we went to was the ancient city and trading post of Ugarit, now a spread-out pile of ruins. The site was well labelled though and provided a fascinating look at life from 3000 years ago when travellers from Egypt, Yemen, Mesopotamia and even farther away gathered together to trade.

We then drove into the mountains and around a narrow, winding road leading to Salahuddin’s Castle, another set of ruins clinging to the crest of a hill. While spectatular from a distance, a closer inspection revealed nothing much had survived within the interior of the walls. As this castle was supposed to have had its beginnings when Jesus was around, this was hardly surprising.

On New Year’s Eve we drove to Aleppo, through changing scenery of beautiful tree-covered mountains and wide open valleys. We visited the largest castle of all in the walls of the Old City and wandered through the covered souqs with some parts dating back to the 11th century. We had a walk around the narrow cobbled streets, alleyways flowing with blood as sheep were slaughtered for Eid al Adha on almost every corner.

We decided to leave the second biggest city behind and head for Palmyra in the desert. On the way we made a short detour from the main road to check out Lake Al Asad, a beautiful clear, clean lake about 70kms long and 10kms wide. We drove through tiny villages of mud-walled houses to get to the lake and had it all to ourselves, as it was just before dark.

We had planned to be in Palmyra just after dark but must have missed our turn-off (things are not well sign-posted in Syria). We ended up driving for hours towards the Iraqi border (east instead of south), with not another road in sight. Eventually we arrived at a main road which took us directly to Palmyra. The trip took us more than twice what it should have and we arrived after 10pm. Being New Year’s Eve, all the half-decent hotels were full and we ended up staying in a tiny sub-standard room near the main road where you couldn’t even open the (empty) mini fridge as the bed was in the way!

We got up early the next morning (our third wedding anniversary) and went straight to the ruins. We had big plans of walking through the entire site but the temperature was 1 degree and there was an icy wind blowing from the north. We took a few quick photos and saw as much as we could from the car before heading home to Saudi Arabia.

We left at 9am on the Monday and arrived in Riyadh on Tuesday at 1pm, after a five-hour sleep in the car halfway across the desert of Saudi Arabia. As the mother of an active two-year-old, I would not recommend this form of transport for trips longer than eight hours.

All I can say is Next Time We Are FLYING.