After being rejected from Syria (literally escorted out of the country, though the guards were super nice and apologizing the whole time), we were really dazed for awhile. Because...what? All the online forums and blogs we googled reported that people have no problem buying a visa at the border (ok except for a looong wait). And we hosted 2 different couchsurfers in Albania who came up through Syria who described the same process... Word to the wise: Americans, the gig's up. As of 2-3 months ago (august 2010?) the chief Syrian minister (??) in charge of the office processing visas has changed, bringing along with him new, stringent restrictions. In fact, we later learned that French and Canadian tourists are also rejected, though Irish and Koreans are ok because Syria does not have an embassy in those countries. More on that later.
"Please come again"
So, there we were, back in Turkey (Hos Geldiniz!), at a loss of what to do. We backtracked to Gaziantep, scheduled an appt with the Syrian consular, and consoled ourselves with Mado ice cream. We found a great camping spot outside the city edge near the zoo, however I stayed up all night due to wild packs of dogs that appeared, literally dogfighting a few mere feet from our tent. Although I wanted to claw my eyes and ears off rather than listen to their deafening barking, I was also too terrified to let Chris scare them off with rocks, lest they gang up on us.
Sunshine clears out the dogs
We returned to the consulate in the morning, nervously trying to pass rifraff inspections (biking and camping takes a huge toll, and suffering a lengthy interview with the consular. What an ass! Some highlights of our conversation were the intro, when he greeted by reprimanding us for 10 minutes about how dare we allow someone to put stickers on our passports. Well, it's a US govt passport, given (and stickered) by the US govt. They can do whatever the heck they want to it. Then we moved on to an inquisition about all the technical aspects of our Peace Corps service, he was wholly unimpressed and downright annoyed that 1) I did HIV/Aids education in Albania when really I should have been in Africa, and 2) what does Albania need Americans for? They have plenty of people that can work for themselves. What do we say to that?
Who could deny this pretty face a visa?
Answer: nothing. Because before we could ever get a word in he set off on a rant about his many experiences abroad, describing in detail gang rape incidents (of young tourists) in both India and Niger, his former posts.
30 minutes later he is still grilling us about out personal lives, knowledge and travels, seemingly trying to roundabout catch us in a lie, as well as making as many personal insults as possible. Then, he pauses, folds his fingers, and in a robot script says "I wish to welcome you to Syria. Please, take a candy!". We were quickly shuffled out of his office to fill out the applications downstairs, informed that it will take 10-15 days to hear back.
Aladin, the man in charge of assisting people and who evidently also manages the paperwork and behind-the-scenes tasks, kindly apoplogized for our inconvenience, insisting Syrian people love foreigners and hope we can get in. But where to now?
Best way to beat rejection: thick, MADO dondurma
We decided to backtrack all the way to one of our favorite spots in Turkey, and home of our new, wonderful friends: Anamur, with Behlul and Arzu. I quickly wrote to them on FB and off we went, staying one week together. Most days we went spear fishing with Behlul; I got to snorkel around because I can see through the mask, and Chris learned how to properly clean the fish. Chris and I also returned to Kadir's school and hung out with the teachers, biked around exploring the town and shore, and toured several apartments with the dream of investing in property abroad. While Anamur usually sees many Turkish tourists, the road to Alanya will be completed in the next 2 years and the overflow of Europeans will spread here. We found an amazing apartment at a good price, then quickly realized we don't have any money!
Badly need cigarette after a long dive
Chris and Behlul clean the fishies
Henna and cigarettes with Behlul, Arzu, Ezzo, and Kadir
Behlul shows off his day's prize
Playing barbershop-- Chris cut and dyed my hair
Would be great to buy a little place here on the beach....
Saying goodbye to Arzu and her sis, just as the rain began!
One week of clear skies; on the morning we departed it began to rain. We biked our way along the coast, stopping again at the mosque where we met a nice imam who tried to ride Chris' bike. His wife told us he went to Syria. So THAT'S why he kept showing us pictures of Mecca! This is the Hadj month, and he embarked on his journey. She welcomed us anyway and let us camp next to the mosque on a summer platform. Very comfortable, except during the 5 am call to prayer...
Sunrise at the mosque
Happy to be back along the Turkish coast
Roadside honey tasting
Gozleme pancakes made from scratch
Next Chris and I biked to the beautiful gozleme garden we had stayed previously. The mother invited us to come back when we stopped in for tea, en route to Anamur one week before. So glad we made many friends on our travels! We stayed 3 nights this time, finally insisting we should move on. Upon arrival the father declared he and Chris would go buy paints and asked Chris to decorate more gourds. So that we did-- sitting in the lush, tree-filled garden, painting them turqoise blue and drawing with markers, while sipping endless cups of tea. Chris drew all the details and I filled them in with white paint, using a small pepper as a brush. After 3 days we had completed over 30 decorative gourds - not bad! Maybe Chris will do the same to his shop in Gjirokaster. :)
Chris goes to town on the gourds
One of the blue - and - whites
Some gourds were decorated with markers
Lovely Turkish coast, hard to leave twice
Chris and I biked and hitched our way back east, arriving two days later in Gaziantep. Again we had to cross the enormous city (third time) toward the university, where a couchsurfer agreed to host us. We biked a few hours, trying to find his address, without any luck. When we asked for help at a small market, the guys inside didn't know, but sent the nearby boys to scatter the neighborhood, in search of the apartment number. Again, no luck. When the group finally gave up the men called us into the backroom of his bakery and asked, can you sleep here?
Cozy back room of the bakery-- better than a hotel!
The back room of the bakery stays continuously warm thanks to the giant brick oven, creating a toasty sleeping room (that smells delicious, like, well, a bakery). We gratefully accepted, after which the group suddenly set to work to make us comfortable, offering us a stack of the day's leftover bread and setting up an electric tea kettle. They quickly departed, locking the door behind and promising to come back at 6. We were ready when they arrived in the morning to start mixing the day's dough in the giant vats. Almost immediately they were turning out stacks of large pancakelike pide loaves, awaiting the morning rush of customers. We stayed an hour or so sipping tea with the men; Chris drew a fancy window sign which they all seemed to adore. Maybe with competition so high and prices so low this will help them corner the neighborhood market pide...
New sign for the bakery
Chris and our bakery friends
We ended up waiting a tense 3 days in Gaziantep; every time we inquired at the consulate Aladin apologized and said please come back later. Perhaps out of pity, or maybe because he is Syrian, Aladin invited us to his house for the night. We gladly accepted (not wanting to camp with the dogs again) and spent the evening with him and his friends, sipping tea and smoking hookah in a cafe (where Ataturk once frequented no less), then going home to watch a Real Madrid vs Milan futbol match (they tied).
Smoking hookah in a Gazi tea garden with our friends Aladin and Ferid
The following day we waited in a park, checking every hour to see if our visas were approved. Several other people who were also rejected from the border passed by, including a young french woman living in Iraqi-Kurdistan who has traveled to Syria 3 times in the last 2 years. She was as shocked as we were to be denied entry and forced to apply through the consulate. Ferid, a friend we met through Aladin, took us all to the zoo to pass the late afternoon, I think as consulation for not getting our visas.
Peeking at fish in the Gazi zoo.
We stayed together another night, and waited another day, nervous because if the fax didn't arrive today (Thursday) the offices would close on Friday and then another Eid holiday begins... It was a drammatic hour-by-hour check with each 'no' a deflation of our spirits. By this point we had brainstoprmed plans B-E in case we couln't continue our trip. Take a ferry to Egypt and bike backwards? Return to Albania? Find English teaching jobs? Throw in the towel and go spend Christmas with our families....?
Pomegranite delight in the park, waiting for the visas
Finally, at 1:30 Ferid ran out of the offices shouting "The fax is in!". We went with a group of other Europeans who had all been rejected at the border to pay our fees to the bank; and American Syrian visa running us a whopping 119 Euros! By far the most expensive, though everyone reported that their cost went up as well. The consular refused to sign our visas that day, so we stayed yet another night, picking up our passports at 2 the next afternoon (just before he left for a 15 day vacation). In the morning we met a Canadian guy who was rejected from the border, but also cannot apply for a visa because the consular (and thus consulate) had closed for holiday. He was forced to backtrack through Turkey and catch a boat to Egypt.
Chris and I biked the late afternoon to Kilis, again, stopping at pistachio plantation and enormous cotton thread factory with a man we met along the way. He insisted on giving us a tour of his warehouses, so we arrived at Bahara's apartment well after sundown. She and Mustafa had plans for the night, but happily accepted us to stay. We slept one final night in Turkey before heading back over the border. Syria at last!
Success! We made it to Syria
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