riding the rails?

Another of last weekend's excursions was meant to be a train trip to the town of Zabadani, north of Damascus. According to Lonely Planet, the ironically nicknamed "Zabadani Flyer" takes about 3 1/2 hours to cover 50 kilometers; however, the route runs through the Barada Gorge, which is supposed to be stunning, and the train itself is a century-old Swiss relic. I thought it sounded like a silly but entertaining trip and pursuaded a friendto get up early and join me.

We met in Bab Touma square at 7:15. The train was scheduled for 8, but we figured better safe than sorry. Hopped in a cab to "Mohatta Khaddem" on the SW side of town. No problem. However, when we arrived at the station, we discovered that "Zabadani" was mysteriously missing from the posted train schedules. Queried the station manager. "No," he said, "No train here. It goes from Hijaz."

Cursing Lonely Planet, we hop into cab #2. Our uncharacteristically leisurely driver eventually dropped us off at the downtown station: the end point of the Hejaz
railway line, which TE Lawrence and company repeatedly blasted during WWI. It's a lovely station but we barely noticed as we sprinted through the front entry, dodged the book fair that had strangely sprung up in the lobby, and burst through the back door. Where we screeched to a halt, because in front of us was:

Had the Bedouin struck again??

We returned to the lobby and breathlessly asked, "Zabadani?" The book seller shook his head: "Midan."

??????

Frantic, with only 5 minutes before departure, we flagged down cab #3. It headed south on the autostrada, then started winding through an unfamiliar neighborhood. I was confused, then my heart sank. Sure enough, 30 seconds later my suspicions were confirmed when we popped out onto a main road--directly across from the original station.

At this point, what could you do but laugh?

We gave up on the train. A different station employee (the first one had mysteriously vanished) told us that the Zabadani train had stopped a couple years back. So we decided to travel by mini bus. Very easy.

Our first stop was Bloudan, a pleasant mountain resort town. After tea-with-a-view and lots of Saudi sightings, we meandered downhill to Zabadani. Passed through residential neighborhoods that were doing pretty decent impressions of American suburbs, especially when we saw a guy in shorts and flip flops out washing his car.

Zabadani itself, another resort town, hadn't woken up yet. It was clear that our efforts to find lunch before 3 pm were going to be in vain and, since there wasn't much else to do, we moved on to Ain El-Fijeh, a town along the Barada River on the way back to Damascus.

The taxi ride was relatively pricy but worth every lira. We sped through a stunning sandstone gorge, periodically passing steps and doorways that had been carved into the rock walls. Ancient hermitages? Remember, this is where the desert fathers hung out.

Ain El-Figeh is the Syrian Zahle: a collection of pretty and pleasant restaurants along a brutally canalized (and very low-flowing) "river." We had a nice lunch, trying to appreciate the breeze and ignore the smell, and went for a stroll. Where we discovered: the train!

4 cars, filled with antiquated wooden seats and a 112 year old steam engine. We were having a delightful time exploring the relic when suddenly we realized that the boiler was running. And water was being added to the engine...

Yes, it turns out that the Zabadani flyer is still running! A group of lounging off-duty engineers explained that it does a daily round trip service between Damascus' Umayawiin square and Ain El-Fijeh. The question we didn't get answered was why the rest of the railway employees appear to be unaware of their existence.

Oh well, next time we know.