Walking for Peace Photo-story 23 (Crossing into Syria)

Our footsteps were now clearly directed south, as we glimpsed Jerusalem in the distance - a mere 700 kilometres away. We had already walked over 4,000 kilometres, and to us, it felt as if we were in the home stretch. We walked with purpose, closing the gap to our destination. 

In those last days in Turkey, away from the tourist areas, we experienced the magnificent heart and generosity of the Turkish people. I was glad to be leaving on that note, after what was an arduous and emotionally draining four-month trek through the country. 

My trepidation in entering Syria, however, surprised me. I was after all in the Arab world, in a culture and language that I knew well; but the terrible stories that I had heard growing up about the hard-handedness of the regime now haunted my memories. It also didn’t help getting persistent warnings the closer that we got to the Syrian border.

The Syrian hospitality, however, was beyond compare, and took us by surprise, with daily invitations to meals and places to stay from people who didn’t even ask why we were walking but who wanted to welcome the two strangers in their land. Our transit through Syria was brief, but most memorable. 

In this collage, you see our signs in Turkish and Arabic, and us enjoying the typical Arab “meze” foods and the traditional “argileh” or water pipe.