Getting around in Damascus

Getting from A to B in Damascus can sometimes take you via C, D and E, a loop around F, and an unexpected detour past G. But after a few attempts at any given route, you’ll figure out the best method of travel. You have a few choices: taxis, microbuses or “services”, normal sized buses, or your own two feet.

Don’t be stupid
Don’t listen to all those web forums claiming Damascus is a walkable city. It really isn’t, unless you live, study or spend all your time in the Old City, in which case you’re probably the type of traveler who seeks out other foreigners, ideally those who speak your own language, to help yourself achieve a sense of comfort. Don’t get me wrong: the old souqs, the area around Umayyad Mosque, Bab Touma and Straight Street are fun, interesting places to wander around until you think you’re absolutely lost, only to find a gem of a cafe or shop and subsequently applaud yourself for being so adventurous. But by not venturing out of the tourist zone, you are missing out so much the city has to offer. So get out there!

So many close calls
Riding in a taxi or minibus is a cultural experience in itself. Roads in Damascus do not have painted lanes, though it seems to be generally understood among drivers how many vehicles abreast a particular street can handle. Through acts of great skill and bravery, horn honking, and a little luck, the taxis, buses, micro buses, trucks, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, cars, and other various 2-, 3- and 4-wheeled motor vehicles somehow manage to share the road with few incidents. Often I’m certain the vehicle in which I’m traveling is about to collide with another. It appears inevitable, yet somehow it’s avoided. (Though you can’t help but notice all the dings and dents in the doors of minibuses.)

Why I bought emergency medical insurance
This leaves pedestrians, the runts of the road, bobbing and weaving through moving traffic. If you’re lucky you’ll find a stoplight / green man that’s a) working and b) respected by drivers. Otherwise, you just wait for a suitable window and go for it. It’s like playing Frogger with your life, and there’s no other choice. You just step out into the road when you can and try to make eye contact with the drivers. The first time I almost got hit by a car was very scary. The next few times were not any less scary. World Nomads insurance came recommended, so I got it.

Some notes on taxis
There are taxis everywhere. Just walk to the closest main road and they’ll be there beeping their horns, vying for your attention, sometimes weaving across lanes of traffic just to pick you up.

All taxi drivers are male. A male traveling alone always gets into the front passenger seat, as does a male traveling with one or more females. A female traveling alone always gets into the back seat; likewise, multiple females traveling together always get into the back seat, unless there are more than 3 females, in which case the 4th gets into the front passenger seat. In other words, a female never sits up front unless absolutely necessary for safety reasons. Thus when Jennifer and I take a taxi, I’m always up front and she’s always alone in the back. That’s the way it is.

In the 4 weeks we’ve lived in Damascus so far, every taxi we’ve taken has had a meter — except two. That’s a rate of about 90% metered rides. Whether or not the taxi has a functional meter is the first thing you should look for when you enter the car. If the meter’s lights are off, or flashing, or displaying nonsensical characters, or simply is not there, then you must agree on a price with the driver before he takes you too far. “Bikam ala Muhajirin?” you might ask (“How much to Muhajirin?”). It helps to already know what the ride might cost, so that you can counter with that amount should the driver reply with an unreasonable figure. In our (albeit limited) experience, however, the figures suggested have been reasonable, so I haven’t actually had to negotiate the fare or demand to be let out of the car. As a general rule, no ride within Damascus should cost more than 100 SYP. I paid 140 SYP once, but there was a lot of traffic that day caused by unforeseen road construction, so the driver had to take a long way round.

Minibuses are quite possibly the best way I’ve ever seen of getting around any city I’ve visited

• They’re incredibly cheap: only 10 SYP (20 cents) per ride.
  
  
• They’re flexible: the microbuses work on your terms, picking you up and letting you off wherever you want.
  
  
• They’re efficient: there are loads of these buses on the street, and even if the first couple that go past you are full, their frequency is high enough that you’ll get on one in no time at all. The longest we’ve had to wait for a Damascus microbus was 10 minutes — the average expected wait-time for some of the most active London bus routes!
  
  
• They’re civil: unlike other modes of public transport I’ve used — for example, in London, where an attitude of urgency and distrust poisons the whole experience, dehumanizes everyone, encouraging a kill-or-be-killed mad rush — patrons of Damascus microbuses are generally polite, considerate, and honest. Strangers handle each others’ money when paying the driver (and passing back change), open and close doors for those less able to, scoot over and squeeze to make additional room for you, etc. Men change seats to make way for women and children. People shift seats to allow friends or couples to sit next to each other. There is no sense of urgency, no mad rush. The driver simply expects to be paid at some point during your journey; not strictly at the beginning.