The staff at the hotel tell me that I should just go to the bus station and it will be fine.
Given that I was hoping that they would help me book a ticket to Palmyra, I'm a little disappointed by the vagueness of their advice, but I have nothing else to go on.
So I go on a wing and a prayer, and as I check out, the hotel staff get me a cab. I am dropped off at the outskirts of the bus station.
I grab my bags and lug them to the bus station, and it turns out that the folks at the hotel were absolutely correct.
As I enter the station I begin to understand that unlike Canada, in this part of the world a bus station is a competitive market. A tout guides me to the office of the agent offering the next bus to Palmyra, which leaves in about fifteen minutes. I purchase a ticket.
However, it is at this moment, that I become aware that I am not in Canada.
I will not be permitted access to the bus until I get a stamp of approval from the police.
Given that the bus is leaving shortly, I run towards the police office.
Inside I find a uniformed fat man of about my age trying to hit on a young lady of about half my age.
I apologize for interrupting, and humbly ask for approval while presenting my ticket and my passport.
The policeman kindly stamps my passport.
I head back across the courtyard, and show my stamped ticket to the agent, but these guys don't care one bit. I am directed to the place where the buses depart. I ask someone on the platform where to go, all the while holding out my ticket like a crazed maniac.
I am directed to the correct bus, and as I climb on board, I think about the fact that I am about to enter a whole new phase of my travel in Syria.
Make no mistake, I'm scared and I'm heading into the unknown, but I have deep faith in myself and the people around me, and either way it doesen't matter.
I'm off to Palmyra, and nothing can stop me now.
http://www.goyestoeverything.com
