Masalama Syria

Another two days with our adoptive family in Damascus, somehow coerced to stay an extra night and completely willing to hang out chatting, drinking copious amounts of tea, and eating our final Syrian meals together. This time I was slightly better at communicating and did get to hang out in the kitchen, learning how to cook their delicious fhoul, as well as some other dishes.


English and Arabic lessons with the kids


Bishera and her pounty grandson (he never smiles, that's his shtick)

The morning we departed, Khalil drove with us to Bosra and we explored the ruins together. Over the last few days the family had proudly shown us many photos of their trips to the site, and he insisted on going again with us.


A true Syrian: Khalil whips out a thermos of tea on the go

So we wandered through the black basalt ruins, colonnaded streets, mosques and hamams. This was a key Roman city linking Damascus to Jerash, and it is even mentioned that the prophet Muhammad (bpuh) passed through here with his uncle's caravan. Legend has it while in Bosra a sage identified the young boy as a future prophet, advising his uncle to protect him.


Chris on the colonnaded street in Bosra


Black stones of Bosra

Ancient Bosra was innovative in architecture, with visible layers of redesign and reconstruction as wealth grew and styles transformed. It boasts the ancient world's largest hamam, with a city block size structure full of baths, where travelers from around the region would pass and marvel as they soaked. I always wonder if the hamams were free or pricey.


One of many hamams in Bosra

The main attraction of Bosra is it's enormous amphitheater, the largest in the middle east, on par with Aspendos in Turkey. Chris climbed up and around the steep steps to get a nose-bleeder view of the terraced cement hill facing the columned performance wall.


Bosra's famous amphiteathre

We said goodbye again to Khalil and began our exodus journey to the border, following a mostly flat stretch of highway through Dar'a and up some steep hills to the border. Leaving Bosra we saw the most glamorous homes in the entire country; large, colorful mansions. Maybe people are growing very wealthy here from the busloads of tourists arriving at the ruins, or perhaps they work in Jordan and bring the money through remittances...?


Flat roads of southern Syria...heading to the border

Eventually we did get to the Jordanian border, saying goodbye to the Syrian guards with a little too much love in our voices, and easily got stamps for the other side. I say easily but this was the longest crossing I've been to in my life; numerous checkpoints and lines to wait in, we even had to pay a 500 Syrian pounds departure tax (approx $11).


Always a border spectacle on the bikes

The sun was teetering to the lower half of the sky in the mid afternoon, so we hurriedly took off, coasting down through the megalith border town of Ar-Ramtha (which evidently prospers from importing Syrian goods at rock bottom prices) and on our way to Al-Husn, where we stayed with a peace corps volunteer.