Screamin' Arabs

So after our 2 days in Aleppo it was time to move on. We got up early, packed up our ridiculously heavy luggage and made our way to the bus stop via taxi. Fortunately the bus stop wasn't far and the taxi wasn't too kamikaze at that time of morning (and our hotelier had written out on a piece of paper all the places we wanted to visit and needed to go in Arabic just in case)!

This time we were on a 'luxury' bus to Homs, from where we would pick up a bus to Crac Des Chevaliers. A 'luxury' bus has airconditioning, gives you a glass of water when you get onboard (kind of like a Turkish bus 'wannbe' but no cake or tea), and shows movies during the journey. Terribly interesting movies too, in Arabic, with English subtitles. The film was called "Hurry the Train", and was basically an Egyptian version of Bollywood, but with the look of a very bad 60s film. I just don't get it though - none of the film reflected any aspect of Arabic life. None. They were wearing miniskirts, big bushy hairdos and there was not a headscarf in sight. And the translation? Well, for the first 4 minutes or so all we got was "hurry the train" and "we're going to Egypt to be famous actors and actresses" and "I want a cig". All this with dancing. Hmm. Time to go to sleep, I think...

We arrived in Homs and then had to figure out how to get to Crac. Problem was it was Friday, and apparently that's like a Muslim holiday or something. Immediately we got off the bus we were accosted by this dude who wanted to know where we were going. We told him we were getting a bus to Crac, and then he told us that there were no buses running. At all. "It's Friday", he said. "Everyone in Syria is sleeping. No buses". Yeah, but hang on, we just got off a bus. So obviously some buses are running. He kept following us up the platform to the main terminal, telling us that only the big buses were running, but no minibuses (called servees by the Arabs) were working that day. Everyone was sleeping. He told us that the only way we could get to Crac was by private taxi. At this point I stopped walking, turned to him and said, "Let me guess. You're a taxi driver?". Of course he was! So I told him that he would rip us off, no way would we believe him that there were no minibuses. By this time we were now in the main terminal and there were another 3 guys crowding round with us. All listening in to the conversation. So he tried to get them to back him up, but we weren't buying - and which point he flagged down 2 other Western women (from Spain) and tried to ask them to tell us he was right. Unfortunately for him, they spoke Arabic - and they told us he was wrong, and that they were trying to go to Crac too. So we went together to get a minibus - from the very much working minibus station next door.

There was no left luggage facility at the main bus station so we had no choice but to lump our gear with us to the minibus station. As we arrived, not one word of a lie, about 10 guys suddenly ran up to us (now a group of 4 women) and started crowding round (these guys have no idea of personal space) and shouting at us about buses to Crac. They wanted 500 Syrian pounds to take us there (this is like nearly £5 and although it seems quite cheap, is actually very over-priced). Agnieszka tried to get them to 400, but picture the scene - 4 women, surrounded now by 10-15 shouting Arab men, trying to get a price on a minibus. No-one can hear anything, its too noisy. Then, a guy from one of the other buses comes up, and says "I'll take all of you for 200 pounds" and that was it. We left for that bus, and the other guys then started to get angry with each other (and the guy who had quoted the correct price), and a full on shouting match, complete with pushing and so on, kicked off.

We got to Crac, but now there was the problem of the luggage. Fortunately there was a restaurant at the base of the castle and the guy there said he'd mind it (don't worry Dad, all compartments were locked, no-one could do a Shapelle Corby on us) in his cellar, and off we went.

The castle was a Crusader fortress and was first built in 1031, but the knights rebuilt it around 1150 to house a garrison of 2000 men. The outer walls are 100 feet thick, and it has 7 guard towers. This fortress is one of the best preserved that I've seen and is now a World heritage site.

We decided to visit the fortress with the 2 Spanish girls as we would have a better chance of negotiating our return price as a group of 4, not 2. This was ok but as the girls didn't speak much English (and we no Spanish) conversation was rather limited. The girls ran into a friend they knew and so we then split up, and decided to meet them outside.

Whilst we were waiting for the girls we ordered a schwarma, which was very yummy - doner kebab meat with salad wrapped in a pitta bread (and for some strange reason, chips). Watching the world go by, I suddenly spot Sandrine, the girl from our hostel in Aleppo - so she came over and joined us on our journey back to Homs.

When we got back to Homs we found it quite difficult to get a minibus to Palmyra. We were told we had to get a service bus (read: clapped out, rickety old, smoke-spluttering public bus) to the other bus station, then a 'normal' bus (not luxury) to Palmyra. So we did.

When we got to the other station, the guy there told us the buses to Palmyra were now 'finish'. So what do we do? So we waited a bit, then asked again - and were told one would be there in 30 minutes. We bought the ticket and waited.

While we were waiting, suddenly a commotion broke out, and I looked over to see two guys really screaming at each other. Of course, the rubber neckers ran over to see what was happening, and these two guys were fully losing it at each other. I have no idea what happened, but it was very entertaining. What I could make out was one of the guys was a driver on a bus, so maybe something happened on his bus, I don't know. But there was full on screaming, shouting, pushing, arms waving in the air anger going on. Boy, these Syrian Arabs sure like to scream at each other!

We got our 'normal' bus to Palmyra, and seriously, this guy was trying to break the land-speed record. The bus was airborne several times on the journey, and I was relieved when we finally arrived in Palmyra.

Of course, once we arrived, there was more shouting - this time at us - as taxi drivers, stall owners and the general public all wanted to show us to the 'best' hotel. This is normal in Palmyra - they take you to their mates hotel, where they receive a commission from the mate which is bunged on to your hotel cost. No thank you. Fortunately the guy from Aleppo had given us the card of a hotel in Palmyra, and we eventually found our way there commission shark free.

What a day, eh?