Secret Police

I had heard of the Syrian secret police from friends and other travels, they ask where your going, check your tickets, etc. or follow you, but I had not experienced any of this until my last 2 days in Syria. After 8 hours on the bike and sight seeing in 40C, I noticed a white Peogot 504, what seemed to be following me. After 50km and close to my destination, I
stopped to pretend to read my Lonely Planet and who should stop to provide assistance??

I knew where I was and where I wanted to go but, as usual, I just play it my ear each day and see where the wind takes me.

Two overweight men , rough shaven with moustache, suit pants and short shelve shirts (so suited the Pegout 504 image), stopped and jump out to assist. With no common language I indicated I am OK and did not need assistance but they insisted to drive me to my destination and wanted to know my plans for the next few days - I knew who they were and said no help required and don't have any plans.

They followed me the next 20km to the castle where the cafe manager translated. I played dumb and asked who they were?? Tourist police was the reply - yeah right!! On that response, I pushed a little by saying "I thought they were two dangerous weirdos and was trying to avoid them. Why did they not identify themselves?" The reponse was silence.

I left and went to the near by campground and who should turn up 5 minutes later? The two coppers from the 70s. I said I will stay here the night and work out my plans for tomorrow. On leaving the next morning the campground manager asked where I was going - I explained to the which border crossing with Syria.

It was 200km to the border, so 50 kms into the ride, another white 504 was on the side of the road and started following me. After being followed 20kms, I was not happy, so I flew between two slow overtaking semi-trailers, where they could not follow, and sped away for the next 20kms - never saw them again ;-)

After 1.5 hours I was the border and happy to move on, but somehow, each of the areas, border entry, passport police and customs asked if I was 'Benjamin James'(passport name, don't repeat it).

On the Turkish side of the border, locals also crossing the border, said I was driving very fast in Syria and I should not.

With Iran and the Stans in front of me, I think I will bite my tongue and accept the big brother interest in my plans.

It is fun pushing the limits of the system!!!