Having turned up at the exit point with our passports and little blue piece of paper which we had to complete on entry and have stamped, we were all sent back 100 metres to another little office to pay our 500 Syrian pound exit tax, for which we were given a little white slip to produce at the office we started at. We were then given another white piece of paper to fill in most of the same information we had on the blue bit (name, parents names, occupation). Then we handed all this in, one at a time, to the moustached gentleman, carefully watched by two other staff otherwise unengaged. For some reason he asked each of us our jobs, which seemed a bit unecessary since were leaving, and it was set out on our visa and on all the little bits of paper we had given him. Maybe the idea is that if asked enough someone would blurt out "Zionist terrorist" by mistake and we would have been had. Anyway, eventually we got all the passports back and could advance, our passports being duly stamped and our white exit tax receipt neatly torn in half. So we drive forward a few metres and are then stopped by another chap who boards the bus to check the passports with the receipts given to us a few metres before.
At last, escape, and onto Jordan, where we had to wait and have our visa sorted out. And had to haul out our luggage to have it scanned, but only main luggage, so I could happily have smuggled anything in via my rucksack. Still this interlude allowed us to watch the normal crossing traffic. Now my guess is that if you cross the border with goods in a van or lorry there is duty to pay, but not if you cross in a car. This is based on the complete lack of commercial vehicles but almost every car was packed to the gunnels with boxes of everyting from fruit and veg to fags. As we soon found out, Syreia is much cheaper than Jordan. And when I say packed I mean it - boots are open and stacked with boxes tied in with string. Even the little "V" left between the open boot lid and the back window would have a few boxes precariously inserted. And naturally inside every seat was stacked to the roof with boxes, including the passenger seat. Needless to say you wouldn't see much through the rear view mirror beyond boxes of tomatoes. Luckily, arab drivers do not overly rely on their eyesight for driving. They rely on tooting their horns to signify their presence on the road.
And of course all these boxes had to be unpacked to be checked, then expertly squeezed back into the cars from whence they came.
Approaching our hotel our path was blocked by an inconveniently parked volkswagon beetle. Problem easily solved by driver, guide and some passers by. They just bodily lifted it a few centimetres out of the away!
So welcome to Amman, capital of Jordan. Bit disappointing really. None of the exciting Eastern atmosphere opf the souqs of Damascus or Aleppo. Downtown is just a lot of the sort of shops you might find in any western city, but a bit more down at heel and with less paving. Restaurants hard to find entrances to, as they are all upstairs over shops with no obvious means of entry. You have to be on the opposite pavement to even spot they exist. Last night Andrew and I ate in the type of back alley into which in other countries you would have been chased and robbed at knifepoint. But its really friendly and safe here (which is more than you can say for the food. Even I draw the line at boiled goat's head.)
All Amman really has to offer is a an impressive Roman theatre and the Roman fortress which has the usual collection of ruins and a little museum. The museum is far too cramped for the number of visitors, its really just one large room. But it does contain some clay statues of bug eyed people which are reckoned to be the oldest free-standing sculptures in the world, at about 6500BC. They would make good cartoon characters, and I doubt the ancient Chalcodians copyrighted them. Plus some good Roman artifacts and bits out of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
But about 45 minutes away from Amman, past the Palestinian refugee camp, is the Roman city of Jerash. These are really spectacular ruins, a terrific theatre pretty much in tact, whole paved and colonnaded streets, temples and an oval central meeting point, surrounded by Ionic columns from the time of its Greek origins. There is also the smallest hippodrome in the Roman world, in which they regularly re-enact chariot races, in a rather naff manner. What didn't add to the atmosphere were the bag-pipe players. Yes, they play the bag-pipes out here too. Think highland piper with tea-towel on head. The noise is every bit as awful as in Scotland but regrettably tourists encourage them by giving them money.
Jerash is very much a highlight, but sadly very hemmed in by the surrounding modern village. Hopefully not so Petra, which is next on the itinerary, after a little R & R in the Dead Sea.
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