Showing posts with label Palmyra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Palmyra. Show all posts
Guides: getting in the way of a good travel experience
Guides, as I wondered in my last post, who uses them? My aversion to hiring guides is largely due to the distance they put between me and my travel experience. I mean, think back to the last time you had a truly memorable travel moment. The first time you saw the Giza Pyramids, Palmyra, Baalbek or Uluru for instance. A museum you visited that was overwhelming (the Louvre perhaps?) or a view that was breathtaking (Iguazu Falls?). Think back. I don't know about you, but I like to savour those special experiences on my own. In silence. Or share them with someone dear to me. I want to take it all in slowly and imprint it in my mind forever. I don't want some tour guide blathering in my ear. The first time I saw Petra was ruined by a guide. (A-ha! I hear you say.) It was a visit that wasn't planned. We'd been on a Royal Jordanian flight from Casablanca to Abu Dhabi with a connection in Amman, when along with some other passengers we were bumped off the flight. We had 24 hours to kill before the next one and because we didn't have visas our only options were to take an escorted tour for the day or spend the time getting to know the drab Soviet-style hotel they'd put us up in. We took the private tour to Petra with a lovely Irish couple, just the four of us in the car. Then there was the guide. The guide was one of the most irritating people on earth. He talked incessantly, asked trivial questions he wanted us to guess the answers to, and told silly riddles. He drove me insane. So insane that as we approached the siq - the narrow gorge you walk through for a kilometre or so until you arrive at the opening to the Treasury and the magnificence of Petra is revealed (an act which in itself only adds to the sense of anticipation, thereby intensifying the experience) - I knew I had to do something rather than have my experience spoiled. My options were to either tell him to shut up, which would inevitably result in an ugly scene, ruining it for everybody. Or to wander off, quicken my pace, and leave the group behind. I chose the latter. Rude perhaps, but definitely the least damaging for all involved. As I arrived at the entrance and began to contemplate the beauty of the sight, I could still hear his distance chatter in the background. It was then that I vowed to never use a guide again.The image isn't Petra of course. It's Palmyra. And don't let anyone tell you it's possible to experience the place alone. While there might not be another traveller around, there'll be several touts on foot and motorbike hawking postcards and 'ancient coins', guys on camels trying to sell you a ride, cheeky little kids asking for baksheesh, and of course a guide or two. Don't give in to any. Say "(k)halas" ('enough' in Arabic) as sternly as you can, and walk the other way so you can enjoy what must be the world's most sublime archaeological site.
Syria: the people you meet, part 2
We'd been searching for Qasr al Heir Al Sharqi, the isolated ruins of a magnificent Umayyad palace, some 120 kilometers in the desert north-east of Palmyra, Syria, and we'd found them. After a failed attempt the day before, we were elated. At the end of our ambles we saw two young boys striding across the desert toward us. One, who was the caretaker of the castle, was named Mohammed. The other was his cousin. Also named Mohammed. The first Mohammed had come to collect our money, give us our tickets, and write our names in a book. He spoke perfect English: yes, we were the only people to visit that day, and, yes, he'd met our Dutch friends there the day before, and he was most impressed with their motorbikes. He asked us for a ride, just to the intersection near their house and on the way we discussed his career aspirations. We were still smiling to ourselves when we slowed to let a herd of sheep cross the road. The friendly Bedouin shepherd, sitting casually on the back of his white donkey, smiled and waved to us. His name could have been Mohammed. It didn't matter. That smile, that wave... that was all we needed. As I asked before, have you had those feelings on your travels?