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In September through October 2005 we joined a whistle-stop group tour of three Middle-Eastern countries: Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan.

Sat 17

We arrived in Beirut to a 27-degree welcome, enticing us to remove our UK-donned fleeces. Distant explosions were thankfully fireworks but this is not a ready assumption: a car bomb had exploded the night before our arrival. Zyad, our tour leader, escorted us to a small bus for transfer to the hotel. It was night when we arrived, and the cityscape looked not unlike a Turkish city but for the Arabic script mingled with the English and occasional French. Hotel Berkley was near the centre of town. The bus door opened to the distinct smell of sewage—not all together in keeping with the 6 stars above the hotel name. The man on reception told us, however, this was actually a 7 star hotel. With a cold beer on arrival, 2 bedrooms, bathroom, lounge and kitchen we weren't disappointed, but rather thankful it wasn't the 2 or 3 star (local rating) accommodation we had been expecting...

Pigeon Rocks, Beirut

Sun 18

The morning began with a city tour, initially by bus past the site where Ex-PM Hariri was killed in a car bomb. Adjacent to the Corniche in the Raouche area are the Pigeon Rocks. On foot we passed a number of fine-looking buildings that would not be out of place in any European city. Indeed, partly because of the familiar advertising brands, Beirut looks rather westernized. There were signs of the civil war (a 15 year conflict ending in 1992), and the armed soldiers were conspicuous.

We left the city for Jeita Grotto, reaching the upper gallery of this extensive cave system containing impressive limestone formations by gondola. A tourist train took us to the entrance to lower gallery, where we boarded a small electric boat. The galleries total 9 km on two levels, although not all of this is accessible to tourists.

We headed next to Jbeil, in ancient times known as Byblos, for lunch. A Crusader citadel lies in ruins, built on top of Roman ruins that in turn are built on the site of a Phoenician trading city. Near the citadel was a small souk. We watched the sunset from the small fishing port before taking mezze with some of the group.

Sunset, Jbeil

Mon 19

Leaving the coast we headed into the mountains to the compact museum and tomb of Kahill Gibran in Bcharreh above the Qadisha Valley. Higher up the pass was a stand of cedars, including the one on the Lebanese flag. Following a walk among these we had lunch before taking a three-hour walk between 2 Maronite monasteries in the Qadisha Valley. Dinner at the monastery was "home cooked" by Zyad and several co-opted assistants, while the remainder of the group rotated through the limited facilities by order of a hastily arranged lottery. "Sleep" on the stone floor (OK, there was a mattress) was punctuated by the odd bat, mouse, and snoring tourists.

Qadisha Valley

Tue 20

We crossed over The Cedars Pass (2500 m) and descended into the fertile Bekaa Valley, infamous as a training ground for terrorists (AKA "freedom fighters"), from which the Syrian army had recently withdrawn. Following a lacklustre visit to Ksara winery we found our charming but dilapidated hotel in Baalbek, overlooking the large Roman site of the same name. Built between 50-150 AD, the acropolis is one of the largest in the world and Lebanon's principal attraction.

Baalbek

Wed 21

Bereft of sleep due to traffic noise we headed for the Syrian border. On the other side we first went to Krak des Chevalier, said to be the best preserved of the Crusader castles. On to Hama, site of a massacre in 1982 when the Syrian dictator quashed an attempted coup by his brother, flattening most of the city. Little of the old town remains, with the only significant attraction being the norias, or waterwheels. The son of the perpetrator may leave a different legacy, having introduced a number of reforms including opening up Sryria to tourism, introducing ATMs and mobile phones, and making it easier for people to buy cars and houses. Entertainment at dinner was provided by a poorly translated menu: fred botatos anyone?

Krak des Chevalier

Thu 22

We paid a morning visit to St Simeon then continued north to Aleppo (Syria's second city) through intermittent fields of wheat, cotton, olive and pistachio trees, and an uninterrupted stream of roadside litter. Our bus made several stops for diesel, but nobody had any.

Lunch beside the Citadel in Aleppo was taken in the dust and noise of a busy street. Keen to leave the claustrophobic ancient souk (still serviced by donkey) we then explored the city's dominating citadel. Our hotel, Mandaloun, was testament to the possibility of Syrian tourism reaching Western standards. An attractive building with rooms on three floors facing a fountained courtyard, conspicuously absent were the features of our previous hotels: cockroaches, doors that didn't lock, unsafe electrical wiring, non-functioning air conditioning, mouldy shower curtains, low pressure leaky plumbing, lumpy mattresses, stained sheets (in short, the usual characteristics of Exodus/ Explore hotels). Dinner was an excellent meal of houmus, salad, grilled chicken, lamb kebab, cheese pastries, the ubiqutous fries. But that was not all it contained...

The souk and citadel in Aleppo

Fri 23

They came in the night. Sudden, severe cramps, heralding nausea and watery diarrhoea. I wasn't the only one, but the others weren't having to consider staying in Aleppo, and getting to Damascus independently. We decided to go with group into the Syrian Desert, to Palmyra, dosed with the entire contents of the travel pharmacy: ciprofloxacin, ibuprofen, loperamide, and prochlorperazine. Simone was brilliant: she packed my bag, organised sugary drinks, dried bread, salted crackers, extra toilet paper, a pillow, and a change of clothes for the trip if required. We stopped at Homs to fix an electrical problem and that's where I fainted after a short walk to the toilet. I woke on the back seat of the bus, and thank Simone and Zyad for their care during the trip. About an hour from our destination the bus' alternator problem recurred, and the air con failed. Strangely I felt more comfortable during this period than at any other time during the day, having felt freezing earlier with fever. I went straight to bed, asking Simone to go with the others to see (or rather photograph) the extensive Roman ruins and to watch the sunset from the Arab castle. The ruins were mostly built under Queen Zenobia in the third century, finances by taxes on caravans plying the route between Mesopotamia and the Mediterranean.

Roman ruins and Arab castle at Palmyra (Photo: SR)

Sat 24

Feeling much stronger, but still with diarrhoea, I decided to join the group tour of the tombs above and below ground, and the Temple of Bal at Palmyra. I peeled of the guided temple tour in order to talk a brief walk around the open site, a vast complex of foundations, columns, and a few more substantive structures. It would be a three hour bus trip to Damascus; all were grateful that the driver had managed to fix the AC. This time I was able to see the desert scenery, which remined me somewhat of a 'moon-scape' in Namibia. During the journey we stopped to take pictures of the street signs ("Road to Damascus", "Iraq 125 km", "Bagdad") and of the original Bagdad Café.

After a late lunch (just crisps for my still jittery stomach) we walked the streets of Damascus for 2.5 hours before taking a taxi back to the hotel (the seatbelt of which obviously hadn't been used for a long time; it left a black stripe across my white T-shirt!). We visited the "Grand Bazar" souk (airy by comparison with that of Aleppo), and the Omayyad Mosque (the most famous mosque in Islam), also housing the tomb of Saladin. We walked down the street called Straight (so named in the Bible), passing through the Christian quarter, to one of the remaining 7 original city gates, near to the cellar (now a church) where St Paul was supposidly hidden after his conversion to Christianity.

Omayyad Mosque, Damascus

Sun 25

The day started with a visit to the national museum which included a complete tomb of the type we saw in Palmyra, with effigies of the deceased sealing them into stacked mortuary-like slots. I nearly overlooked the most significant piece—the world's first alphabet of 30 cuneiform signs on a small clay tablet, upon which all Western and Arabic alphabets are based. Found at Ugarit on the Syrian coast it dates from 1400–1300 BC and survived because it hardened via burning.

A walk through the souk (via the icecream seller) took us to Azem Palace, a museum in a palace with manikins in period scenes and infused with the stench of mothballs. We continued up Straight street in the opposite direction to the previous day, passing by several khans (wharehouses) and enchanting shops where merchants plied their trade—which was sometimes hard to guess.

After a siesta back at the hotel we visited the handicraft market and courtyard of the nearby mosque, itself adjacent to the military museum. It's not everyday you see a Mig fighter parked outside a mosque!

Zyad's promised "surprise" that evening was a bus ride up the mountain to overlook Damascus at night. We ate at a smoke-filled resturant in an old house before walking to a second resturant for a performance by the sole Whirling Dervish in Damacus. There was also what I can only describe as a sword dance. The experience came complete with a further dose of carcinogens from cigarettes and nargila ("hubbly bubbly").

Shopkeeper on "Straight" street, Damascus (Photo: SR)

Mon 26

The morning saw us in Bosra, former capital of the Roman province of Arabia. Here is a largely intact amphetheatre enclosed in a defensive wall built by Saladin. Like the adjacent city it is built from dark basalt blocks, which lend the place a certain dreariness.

Zyad left us just before Syrian customs, and we crossed over into Jordan.

Our new guide (Moayyad) took us to Jerash for a buffet lunch followed by a tiring tour in the mid-afternoon sun of the Roman city, destroyed by an earthquake in the 7th century. Some 60 percent of the city remains buried below blown sand, awaiting excavation. The oval forum is unique, and the hippodrome the only example in Jordan. We were entertained by a troop of bagpipe blowing Jordanian buskers in one of the theatres, and walked back via a colonnaded street carved by the wheels of chariots and complete with sub-terranean drains and manhole covers.

Jerash

Tues 27

Today's journey would take us some 350 km south along the King's Highway to the city of Petra. Near Amman we passed the largest camp for Palastinians displaced by the events of the past 50 years, where they are offered free accomodation and optional Jordanian citizenship. We drove down the Jordan Valley to the Dead Sea, where lake level is 412 m below sea level (the deepest point on land). At Amman Beach we floated in the water, 13 times salter than seawater, and rubbed the supposedly beneficial mud onto our skin. Across the lake lay Israel, from which we could hear deep exlosion-like rumblings.

Mt. Nebo is where, in the common mythology of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, Moses surveyed the Promised Land. It's hard to understand, with seemingly common basic beliefs, how these religions can draw different conclusions from the Old Testament. Why would God choose one invading race over other peoples/ existing inhabitants to inherit the Promised Land? Furthermore, why should exclusivity be based on your DNA (you must have a Jewish mother to be Jew), and not on the free choice to convert to the religion you wish to practice? The mosaic inside the church at the site is the most complete in Jordan.

We veiwed a mosaic map of the region (approx. 580 AD) in the Church of St. George, Madaba, where we stopped for lunch. Continuing down the highway we overlooked Wadi Mujib and dam. As we covered the kilometers it was apparent that Jordan is just as littered as her northern neighbours, with plastic bags strewn everywhere in abundance. The Crusader castle of Kerak was rather disappointing, buffeted by strong winds and filled with French tourists. A further 2.5 hours to Petra brought the tortuous day to a close.

Floating well below sea level in the Dead Sea

Wed 28

After last nights cold hot buffet, a cold morning shower came as no surprise, following on as it did from a night of non-functional air conditioning. But today we would visit the ancient city of Petra...

The Siq, or natural and defensible narrow entrance to the Nabatean ruins, was an attraction in its own right. The Nabateans were an Arab tribe who began building at Petra during the 3rd century BC. The so-called Treasury, like other buildings cut into the sandstone face, was carved from the top down. Continuing to the city centre we passed houses and tombs cut into the rock, and viewed a colonaded street, temple, and amphitheatre (yep, the Romans were here too!). Finally we began the hot climb to the Monastery (as used in Byzantine times; it was originally a royal memorial) via 850 steps. Beyond the Monastery was a superb view of the surrounding landscape. Tourists were as thick as the flies. Memorable is the sight of reds, yellows, and browns in the sandstone mingled most of the while with the smell of donkey excrement.

"Petra by night" was disappointing, with the candle light barely illuminating the siq and the Treasury shrouded in darkness.

Through the keyhole (the Siq, Petra)

Thu 29

It was a two hour drive to Wadi Rum, the area of sand and rock desert where Lawrence of Arabia and Prince Faisal assembled the Arab tribes for the attack on Aqaba during WW1. We loaded what we would need for the night into day packs and set off to the camp site in beat-up Bedouin Toyota Landcruisers and pick-ups. The camp had an enclosed eating area, frequented by Jordan's national bird—a pink-chested finch. There was a carpeted tent for those who preferred to sleep indoors, and two flush toilets that sometimes worked. We headed out into the wadi for a tour, stopping to view ancient petroglyphs, Lawrence of Arabia's ammunition store, the Rock Bridge, and made a lunch stop. After the tour and a cup of Bedoiun tea we walked out of the canyon to view the sunset, choosing a flat area under an overhang on route to place our matresses for the night.

Dinner was prepared off-site and proved to be a very enjoyable chicken and rice dish. Zyad (the driver) brought along some arak which he mixed very strong; this no doubt contributed to early retirement. We slept (very well, thank you) with a view of the stars between our overhang and the opposite canyon wall. I wasn't cold and our thin bags alone were enough to combat the slight breeze.

Wadi Rum

Fri 30

I made a short journey at dawn to photograph the rising sun, returning to our digs in time to witness the bushes in our front yard being digested by a herd of camels. These had been ridden in to take out those who wished to return to civilisation by four-legged drive instead and although there were no takers among our group, some of the second Exodus group sharing the camp were keen. The Wadi Rum experience was surely the highlight of the tour for me personally. There's something about deserts...

It was just under an hour once back to the bus by 4WD to Aqaba, Jordan?s port opposite Eilat in Israel across the Red Sea. Since it was still early we booked return transport plus a beach chair at the Royal Diving Club, where we hired snorkeling gear and ate lunch. The coral was mostly dead although there were a few healthy pink colonies and an assortment of colourful fish. On the return trip the side door of the local mini bus came off, forcing us to stop by the side of the road for emergency repairs least the standing passengers fall out.

We just caught the sunset and walked along the local promenade with a view to the twinkling lights of Eilat, feeling sticky in the 32 degree humidity.

Dawn in the desert (Wadi Rum)

Sat 1

The drive to Amman via the largely uninteresting Desert Highway took a nearly intolerable 4.5 hours in our cramped little bus. After falafel (please, no more!) we took in a few of the city landmarks. It looked like a dull, busy and filthy although surprisingly green place, but the pervasive feeling among the group was one of apathy. My camera never left its bag, and we chose to rest in our dingy hotel room overlooking the more appealing Intercontinental, rather than go exploring. The dinginess soon got the better of us so a walk around the block passed the time until our last group meal.

Amman (Photo: SR)

Sun 2

Leaving the hotel at 0330 hrs for the airport, we arrived in London with time to spare before catching our early afternoon bus. It's good to be home, and I have no particular desire to return to the Middle East—unless it were to Wadi Rum.

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