10-11 April. Madaba, Jordan

Border crossings are starting to become a major expense on this trip- $300 all up going into Syria with visas, diesel tax, carnets etc taken into consideration. And a further $200 getting in to Jordan yesterday. Not so bad if you’re spending a couple of weeks in each but we are doing a lot less than that.
The Jordanian side of the border were well organised, no need for ‘helpers’ and such.
We made it to Jerash in the dark last night. A town famed for its well preserved Roman ruins. Then on to Amman and Mabada, 40kms further south this morning. Madaba is a smaller town and a good central point to visit the different attractions around here. The St George Greek Orthodox Church has kindly allowed us to camp in their grounds for the night. It’s the map mosaic, originally 16mX6m, the draws the visitors to the church. Not much left now, but enough to make it a major attraction. I don’t think you have to be a believer to stay here but they did mention that at the tourist bureau.
I am enjoying driving in this country. Jordanians seem to be better drivers than I have experienced of late: more considerate and travel at a slower speed.
Our van is due for a service. We spent a frustrating 4 hours driving around Amman looking for the VW crowd. I was waiting until we got to Cairo but we are going to be busy getting our Sudan visa there. Having it done here, when we have a couple of spare days up our sleeve, will ease the pressure in Egypt. I wanted to wait until we reached this area as with servicing due every 15,000kms it would’ve meant it was going to be well overdue before we reached the next country that sells VWs which is Sth Africa.
I am able to do my own blog postings once more. The censorship was unexpected and a bit frustrating. At least I know what I can do to get around the problem though Adam did have trouble getting the images uploaded.
11th April.
Jordan is quite an amazing country. The barren scenery is quite breathtaking. It was a day of sightseeing. Firstly Mt Nebo where Moses saw the Promised Land then died at the ripe old age of 120, then on to the Dead Sea as you all will know is 400 metres below sea level. We travelled along it for 60 odd kilometres then climbed inland to Karak where another of the Crusader castles stands. Was funny to read that although the Muslims and the Christians were at war in the time of the Crusades, the two sides were still trading with each other. Bit like England selling coal to Germany during the war and at the same time bombing the shit out of them.
From Karak we travelled south along the Kings Highway to the Dana Wildlife Refuge where we are camped. The panorama below us is spectacular with barren rugged cliffs smoothly falling thousands of feet to the Dead Sea Valley.

Temple of Bel, Palmyra. Syrian Desert

Crusader Castle, Qala'at Saladin, Syria

8th April Palmyra In the Syrian Desert

A day of ruins today. Nice to have a full day off the driving. Incidentally, access is denied to any web site with the word ‘blog’ in it. Means I can’t post any happenings. Then I thought of sending attachments with my posts and images to someone and getting them to put it on for me. Adam was the chosen one and I hope this arrangement keeps the blog up to date as I have no way of checking myself. Perhaps Jordan will be different.
Palmyra is over 200kms from any water course but the spring flowing from the base of nearby hills has created an oasis that has sustained the city for centuries. It has been an important staging point in most of the routes across the Cham Desert and the remaining Greek and Roman ruins have made it the most important tourist destination in Syria. Many of the columns in the main thoroughfare are standing while the main temple, that of Bel, still retains the aura of its heyday. Most of the city has no entrance fee. To be able wander at ones own pace is just so relaxing. The buildings are constructed in a beautiful yellowy stone that blends so well with the surrounding desert.
We are camped in the grounds of this upmarket hotel surrounded by the ancient city. AU$12 a night with hot showers thrown in. A Syrian beer and G&T in the garden tonight will go down well as the sun sets behind the columns.

Latakia Camp where we were woken by armed security

St Simeon's stylite, Syria

7th April Palmyra

Cracs de Chevalier has always been an enigma to us. Whenever we see it on Global Village or some programme on the crusades or perhaps Syria we think that this was the place we didn’t quite get to 30 odd years ago. We were almost there on a wet cold February night in 1975 when we struck a traffic jam caused by an accident or something. We were only a few kilometres away. Fed up with waiting, after a couple of hours and with tired irritable children in the back we turned back. Well we made it today; it was worth the return trip.
Enlarged by the crusaders in the 13th century from an old fort it is almost completely intact. Never stormed by the Muslims, the dwindling numbers of crusaders surrendered the fort after a guarantee of safe passage. They had the provisions to outlast a 5 year siege but when the chances of assistance coming from Europe are virtually non existent why keep up the defence? You’ve got to think back to those times when they would’ve had to send a messenger back to Europe asking for help, and then they would have had to organize an army and march thousands of miles overland. What if the messenger had been knocked off on the way or met some pretty little barmaid in some Bulgarian schnapps house and said ‘Buggar the crusades’? I don’t blame them giving up
It is a magnificent structure with two layers of high walls rising over 30 metres in height. The halls and dormitories are massive to house the 2000 inhabitants. When the surrender occurred there were only 200 remaining.
We spent the afternoon there before heading east across the desert to Palmyra, some 220kms further on.
The diesel situation gets more amusing by the day: as I mentioned earlier, we paid this $100 diesel when we crossed the border then had all those troubles the first day here. I’ve learnt that when your gauge heads towards the half full you start looking for a station that actually sells the fuel. We hadn’t seen one at all today (you look out for the queue of trucks), until I caught a glance of what I thought was one as we sped along the highway though there was only the one truck there. We reversed back and I went to have a chat to the 5 blokes in the office. There were some murmurs when I asked for ‘Dizel’ then they pointed to one bloke who sighed then nodded his head. We went out to the pump, he put in 20 litres but that was it. Appears they were rationing it and giving it to needy looking customers. Maybe it was my greying balding hair that made them take pity on us. Later we saw another queue, went to join the end but with some friendly banter between the staff and drivers waiting, we were sent to the front of the line. We are finding the Syrian people so relaxed and welcoming. Many know only one word and that’s ‘Welcome’.