Syria and Jordan 2008 - Part Six

Park Tir Turkish border

At departure the police inform us that there is an open petrol station in the village and, with their presence, we show up to refuel, but only those who did not get their 20 litres the previous time will be able to fill up. Now we head towards Ebla, the last city to visit. There would be another one, called the dead city, and someone in the group asks to visit it, but no. 1, although ahead of schedule, refuses. At this site of Ebla there are no colonnades to admire; the city is too ancient and was built with mud bricks, most of which have crumbled away over time, but it still makes an impression to see, or rather imagine, a city of those dimensions built 4,500 years ago. And moreover, seeing these ruins, we were able to understand the enthusiasm that archaeologists feel in their search for ancient finds.

Disappointed at having seen little or nothing of what remains of this great city, we close our journey in Syria by returning towards the border, towards Turkey. A long queue at the Syrian border, then we set off through no man's land towards Turkey. We overtake a long line of stopped articulated lorries without understanding why, but we understand immediately when, after a bend, we see the road blocked by a semi-trailer carrying a semi-trailer crane that has shifted, and three other cranes that are fixing it. We stay stopped for about three hours because, beyond the stationary vehicle, another column coming in the opposite direction is stopped like us. We see some campers and shortly afterwards we receive a visit from friends who were with us on the trip to Egypt last year.

An exchange of news and greetings; I give them my empty jerry cans, very useful for the precarious refuelling in Syria. During the forced stop we have dinner: tagliatelle with fish sauce. As soon as we finish, we hear the engines starting up again; I immediately move to the driver's seat and, half on the asphalt and half on the dirt, we manage to pass between the parked lorries and our friends' campers. We reach the Turkish border, where we endure the usual bureaucratic delays that will only set us free at 10.30 pm. We stop at the Tir parking lot from the outward journey.

Turkey - Gas station along the road

We are on Turkish territory. We first join one road and then a fine motorway. We cover 342 km, and stop at a junction. Tomorrow 2 crews will leave us because they have extended the trip by 15 days to explore Turkey better. This evening we celebrated Maria's birthday, no. 15, without cakes due to lack of time but with various little pastries that emerged from the cupboards. Everyone to bed while I begin to have chills. Something like this has never happened to me. I cannot get warm and I keep shivering more and more. I am so cold that I turn on the stove; a refrigerated lorry will keep me company, with its engine running, all night long.

Egirdir – Liman Oto Park

I did not sleep all night and in the morning I consider it best to leave the group and head for Cesme, the meeting point for boarding. Besides the fever, I have vomiting and diarrhoea and I will inevitably have to stop several times. I do not want to be a problem for the rest of the group and, after notifying no. 1, I go to say goodbye to Giorgio and Anna, who are continuing the journey. At the exit from the petrol station I take the wrong road and instead of heading towards Konia I take the Ankara road. At the first junction I realize my mistake and turn back, having unfortunately travelled a great deal of extra road, and given my state of health it would have been better to avoid it. The road is beautiful and we cross hills with lakes.

We stop at a paid parking area on the shore of a lake at Egirdir and, while I rest, Tina goes shopping, where she meets the rest of the group parked a little further on. I have a temperature of 37.8.

Cesme – Parking at the port

During the night I sweated a lot. Tina gave me some Tachipirina for the fever and some Imodium for the diarrhoea. In the morning I feel better and decide to continue on to Cesme. After the road, we find the motorway that will take me to the boarding port, where we park in a nice spot near the marina. In the little market across the road we also find some tins for Schizzo, since the spoiled thing eats nothing else.

Cesme – Parking at the port

I continue to feel better and we take the opportunity to visit the town. There is a fine castle but we only look at it from the outside. I am tired of castles; I have seen too many lately, and in the town there are countless souvenir shops. There are not many people (it is low season); we even find yesterday's Corriere della Sera, but for us, who have been away from Italy for more than 40 days, the news is brand new. There were elections and we learned who won from various phone calls made to our friends. In the afternoon we take a drive with the camper to the far tip of the peninsula, where at a building site we even manage to empty the grey and clear waters. There is a problem with the tank valve.

The water reaches the taps in smaller quantity and it is better that way!!! Tina will use less water! I will find the fault at home: it consists of a piece of cloth that, from the tank, was sucked up by the pump and reached the tank diverter. This evening I have vomiting and a stomach ache but no fever.

Cesme – Parking at the port

The others also arrive one by one and I see them parking at the boarding port. We join them after lunch. I still have a stomach ache and prefer to stay quietly in the camper

Cesme – Embarkation port parking

This morning it is raining. No. 1 and I pick up a few of the women in the group and buy plants and seedlings at three nurseries in the area. They are plants that do perfectly well back home too, but here, who knows why, they are more beautiful. In the afternoon the group comes back together, except for the two who stayed in Turkey. No. 1 collects the passports and picks up the tickets for the ship.

Sailing on Marmara Lines' Cesme ship

Boarding at ten. With us are other campers, cars and about forty French off-road vehicles that have done the route Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Jordan, Syria and Turkey. A fine trip that we have also done, but on three different occasions. At customs we are the last of the group and we lose a lot of time because the car ahead of us has problems and blocks the whole column. When we finally reach the ship, all our friends are already settled in their cabins. No. 1 has disappeared too and has not given us the key to our accommodation. Schizzo in his cage shows signs of restlessness, but fortunately Maria from no. 12's crew puts him in her cabin. Meanwhile Lorenzo turns up and realizes that there is no cabin for us because of an error by the Ancona Agency, which listed one cabin too few. Everything is sorted out by an employee who, before giving us the key, wants everyone to be settled.

Once we finally reach our accommodation we free Schizzo, who sniffs and inspects the new place. The cabin is smaller than on the outward journey and has no porthole, and the ship is also smaller than the Greek one. The sea is rough and the rolling is very noticeable. To eat you go to the self-service; you pay with a card pre-paid at the ship's bank. Only breakfast is included in the ticket price, and for two lunches and two dinners we will spend €110. Many French people have lunch in their cabins with tinned food, and perhaps it would have been better to organize ourselves and do the same. We would have eaten better.

sailing

We are at sea. There is everything on the ship. We just have to pass the time in the best possible way and enjoy this "holiday" on the Mediterranean, between water and sun, to remember it for a while. We idle from morning to night... who said that idleness is the father of all vices and is bad for you?

Majano

Meeting at 9 with all the luggage; we manage to reach the camper in the hold and deposit the luggage with Schizzo, who, finally free, takes possession of his usual places again. During the voyage, because of the rough sea, he ate nothing; he will only recover once back home. On arrival at the port around midday, the Italian police come on board and check the passports. We say goodbye to all the participants with the promise of meeting again, perhaps on another trip. Once out of the port we take the motorway again. We stop at the first service station for lunch and then, after a short rest, one straight run home……… the grass has grown enormously…..

Conclusion

At the end of this trip, a reflection is a must. What fascinated us the most? We have seen great things that bear witness to the past of various cultures, pharaonic architectural complexes, stunning cities, each in its own way, such as the rock-cut temples of Petra, the colonnades of Palmyra, Apamea and Jerash, the ancient water wheels of Hama, the Umayyad mosque of Damascus, the crusader and Saladin castles, the colors of the souks, of Wadi Rum and of the Red Sea, but in my opinion one small great thing literally enchanted us: the desert. I have seen many deserts: from the Karakum in Turkmenistan, to the Libyan desert, to the Egyptian one, to the Moroccan and Tunisian ones, but Wadi Rum with all its varied colors is magical, it's spectacular. The desert is not accommodating, it smooths and sculpts the soul, it forges the body.

As someone says, the desert doesn't lie, it's clean, it's the salt of the earth. The desert doesn't transform us but makes us rediscover our identity, our true way of being. To know the supernatural, they say, one must rise above nature. Well, aren't these trips we take already a means of elevating the spirit? And isn't it even more so when crossing a desert? The profound silence, the boundless spaces, the magic and mystery of mirages, the sky of such a deep and transparent blue where the gaze goes ever higher without ever stopping, the night with its shining stars that give us an idea of the immensity of the universe. Even as we realize we are a tiny molecule, our self, in contact with the immense, has the sensation of drawing closer to the supernatural.

And speaking of colors that we still see vividly in our mind… besides those of Petra, of the desert, of the Red Sea, isn't the most fascinating color perhaps that of the eyes of our cat that the Sorìa (ancient name of Syria and from which the name soriano derives) gave us a thousand years ago, when in the Middle Ages in Venice, a ship of merchants coming from Syria landed a litter of tabby kittens that soon reproduced and invaded the alleys of the city and from these it has come down to our days: Schizzo, perhaps he too takes pleasure in these ancient ancestors of his, who knows……… Besides the various sensations experienced during the trip, we can say that everything went well. Despite being so many, there were no arguments or disputes, it was a great group and I hope to see them all again on a future trip.

The vehicles, apart from numerous punctures immediately repaired, proved adequate even on roads that were not always perfect. Among the participants, only a few had intestinal problems, myself included, but this did not delay or stop the trip. Lorenzo, apart from a few out-of-place outbursts, was up to the commitment he had taken on and guided us with skill through two countries with many problems. Thanks also go to Saman, Nael and Aziz for the help they gave us in learning about the history, customs and traditions of their countries. I don't want to forget Sofian who with his friendliness cheered up and helped all of us.

In total we covered km. 8,103