Syrian off-road
26.11.2004 | Damascus, Syria
- Okay. And what are these?
- The thermometer and the voltmeter.
- Hmmm. And what do you have in this pocket?
- My car and apartment keys, see?
- Good. What about this one?
- My mobile.
- Let's have it.
He was already holding the satellite phone, my digital camera and Freitag's miserable map of Syria. Fortunately I forgot the GPS at home, otherwise things could get even less pleasant.
- Turn the bike around and let's go to see the commander.
It's cold
25.11.2004 | Damascus, Syria
I'm wrapped in a double sleeping bag (there's a winter one inside the summer one), and my little hands and fingers on them are being warmed up by an infra red heater in my new dwelling. The temperatures here are abnormally low – yesterday morning the lowest was 1.7°C and today it is almost 7°C. Even in January, when the temperatures are at their lowest, I hear they normally never fall under 5°C. The houses here testify to that: windows with single glazing and lousy thermal insulation. The bathroom is also cold.
Barricades on the road
24.11.2004 | N Syria
Night, darkness, a wide dark strap of asphalt with no lines in front of me, the cruise control set at a 100 km/h, the end-outline marker lamps of the trailer in my mirrors. High beam lights in front, it is half past three. What is that in the distance? Is everything ok? The sleepless nights, all the worrying over the malfunctions, and the long night ride across the Turkish-Syrian border have left me feeling a little drowsy.
Shit!!! The road is ending!!! All of a sudden I find myself in front of two-meter piles of gravel across the entire width of the »highroad«. No sign, no lights, no warning. And there I am, with the cruise control set at a 100 and the trailer behind me, going directly towards them! For the third time in my life the engine died on me because of braking but at least we survived. Time to take a nap.
With friends again
24.11.2004 | Adana, Turkey
The one thing that saved me was the inertia of the car and the trailer that managed to get me to the side of the road, even though the engine died on me while my front wheels were only slightly ahead of the bus and while the approaching van was violently flashing his lights and the bus was slamming on the brakes. On the way to Adana, which is merely 230 km away from the Syrian border, the car died seven times more but I still managed to get to the service station, where I've – unfortunately - become almost a regular by now.
My New Home: Damascus – نازلي الجديد: دمشق
23.11.2004 | N Turkey
The southeast wind is cutting in my face, creeping through my jeans and my motorcycle jacket. The faint yellow light, shining on the front ramp, reveals the rough sea in front of the ferry. I’m standing under the bridge, a dim red light of the port side is glowing above me, as I watch the lights of the coast that seem to be moving too fast. How fast are we travelling, anyway? I left the GPS in the car and I don’t really feel like going to the car deck and climbing over all the cars, vans, and trucks, only to get a meaningless piece of information. I’d much rather savour the moment and watch the lights of the port we’re steadily getting closer to, feeling a combination of anxiety and excitement. I’m only moments away from unloading all my cargo – my car, the trailer, and a KTM – and starting out to Asia, the continent that will be my home for the next couple of months.