Syria

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..Yes ,well i didn’t really know how to write this part, so perhaps it should be said that in retrospect i’m not too proud of the risk we took crossing Syria, but on the otherhand  I am at the same time  very happy to be where we are now…

So how does it happen that you find yourself crossing a country in turmoil you vowed you would avoid  with your  two young children?  My analysis is a process similar to the ‘catastrophe effect’ the consequence of a butterfly beating its wings and all that.

In our case many small unrelated factors all pushing inthe same direction…a visa refused, a comment months before describing the beauties of Jordan in spring, the meeting of a group of twelve dutch campers heading for Jordan (well if these old pensioners are going, surley…) Our little radio crackles and gives snippets of information, but Syria isn’t the main headlines, it is Libia that’s under the spotlights. It’s cold and rainy, Lusira wants to see the pyramids. We’ll just take the small pistes in the east and cross as swiftly as possible.

There is no excuse really, but that’s how it happened. Infact the first day in the east was very beautifull and peaceful, but unluckily the small pistes on our Russian maps can’t be used as boarder crossings, and all other roads lead to Damascus. We came out unbruised but shaken (there were angry men on all street corners as our truck hurtled by…the kids were fortunately sleeping in the back, oblivious)

A lesson learnt , not to be repeated…. promise!!

(And no, to all our friends making sly comments..we don’t work for the CIA or any other organisation, and no we won’t be raising  the masses as we pass!!)