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The bus station is not just 2km out of town. Fortunately for us India had the good sense to actually hail a taxi which took us a good 5km out of town to the station whereupon we purchased tickets to Deir Az-Zur. The journey was fairly unremarkable, although the conductor of the bus, a young guy of bedouin descent called mahmoud decided to take a liking to us, particularly me as I was the one most easily distracted from my struggle of reading a simplified version of treasure island (I am still on page 7, but do know how to recite the rhyme "15 men on a dead man's chest"). He gave us a really bizarre beverage which he called bedouin tea. It tasted like what I'd imagine mouldy burnt molasses would taste like if I ever had the misfortune to try it. I had to wash it down with water, just before I was passed a screaming toddler who was the daughter of one of his friends on the bus. The theme of screaming infants continues in Aleppo you'll be pleased to know.
When we disembarked from the bus we were taken straight to what I can only assume is the branch of semi-policemen used to deal with keeping tracks on the intrepid Ajnabi-folk who dare to travel without a tour guide. My resolve was strengthened by my newest acquisition - a photograph of Mahmoud looking very strapping against a bright turquoise background and many many hand wipes - and so we endured the long process of giving the pointless details of our identity, nationality and names of both parents. What they expect to do with this information I haven't the foggiest, but we did get some interesting ruby red coloured tea out of it.
We avoided the taxi that one of the policemen got for us, as he was not using the meter, and headed into town. We found the best falafel I think I have ever had, and then found one of the grimiest hotels to stay at. The owner of the hotel however was very helpful and gave us plenty of information on the town and how to get to our next stop. Plus he was called Nureddin which earns him kudos in my eyes for having the name of one of the greatest Muslim crusader-generals second only to Saladin.
Dura Europos was voted off the itinerary. I was disappointed, but my spirits were raised when I saw the surprise that awaited us in the hamam. Oh yes, a folding portable loo seat. I kid you not. This beautiful piece of work even had its own hook just above the squat toilet and was just so convenient I had to take a photo of it.
We spent the afternoon sauntering around the Euphrates and drinking mango juice on its banks and watching the swimmers in the water as the sun began to set. The café we chose also had a children's climbing frame which we naturally had to take advantage of, much to the amusement of those patrons and staff who had nothing better to do than to watch almost knock each other off swings due to the badly designed nature of the apparatus. Once we thought we had provided enough of a spectacle we took a procrastinative route back to our hotel and had a snooze before eating supper at the local fast food joint. I cannot say that Deir Az-Zur is by any means that attractive a town, but the Euphrates that runs through it is a most pleasant place with very few tourists and I wouldn't be at all adverse to heading back here for a wee while one day soon.
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