Lost in a Castle, Syria Style
Updated August 2, 2023âI would hate to get lost in here,â I say to my Japanese travel companions for the day. Weâre standing inside the ultimate Middle Eastern crusader castleâQalaâat al-Hosn, aka, Krak de Chevaliersâin Syria. Itâs beautiful, but itâs simultaneously eerie. The kind of place where you can easily envision people being held as prisoners and tortured until their death.
âSame here,â Shinobu says, giggling nervously. He smiles at his girlfriend Chika, who also giggles.
We met at the Syrian border recently and have been on the same backpacker circuit, bumping in to each other at various points. Weâre happy to have met up in nearby Hamaâa conservative little town known for its ancient water wheelsâand to be together at the castle.
A half hour later, 15 minutes before Krak is supposed to close and when we should be finding our way outâa mysterious man with dark hair and a beard, who speaks virtually no English and sort of grunts when he talks, gets our attention.
âWelcome,â he says, gesturing that we should follow him. He looks like a castle employee or a security guardâsort ofâand so we follow him. Perhaps heâs going to show us the exit?
Next thing you know, weâre sitting on a veranda with him and heâs bringing out pita and hummus and pulling out the shisha pipe. Wherever we are, it feels separate from the rest of the castle.
âNo thank youâŠwe have to leave,â I try to tell him in my extremely limited Arabic. He doesnât get it, of course. I begin to sense that heâs lonely and been waiting for usâpeople to spend time withâfor a very long time. He begins to push the food in our direction.
âHow much?â Shinobu asks. Like me, heâs wondering if this is free or if thereâs a catch.
âFree!â the man says, laughing.
âWe never try hummus,â Chika says. âI think I try this now.â A hummus virgin? Oh no. Whatâs he got in the bowl doesnât look too good. I decide to do the right thing.
âLet me try it first,â I say, dipping my pita into it. Itâs awful and I donât want to say itâjust in case he does understand English.
âI think you donât like it,â Chika asks. âYour face is very serious.â Now, Iâm giggling.
The mystery man is now prepping the nargile pipe. He says something in Arabic and passes it to me. Itâs not my first time partaking in the shisha experience, so I take a tokeâand enjoy it. Chika and Shinobu, however, are newbies. They begin to choke on the smoke, then laugh.
Our host, on the other hand, is an old pro. He takes in the smoke like someone in desperate need of oxygenâŠ.inhaling deeply and holding it in as long as possible, before finally exhaling. Each time he does it, he leans his head back, as if in ecstasy.
I wonder if itâs something other than the typical dried fruit. I also worry that his lungs might burst. He seems happy, though, and sort of nutty, I think.
âHe seem like crazy man,â Chika says. I laugh. Perhaps he is, I think, but heâs definitely in the moment. Maybe even his own little world.
âOK,â I finally say to him. âWe have to go.â I point at my watch, hoping heâll understand. He doesnât. Instead, he brings out a bowl of mini sausages. They taste oddâas if precooked and recently defrosted.
âLetâs go,â I say to the Chika and Shinobu. âWe canât miss our taxi.â The sun is now lower in the sky than before and they, like myself, are beginning to feel panicked.
We assume that heâs going to lead us to the exit. Weâre wrong. As soon as we leave the veranda, he disappears into the darkness of one of the corridors.
A minute later, weâre completely lostâŠ
âWhat now?â I ask. Chika and Shinobu arenât giggling anymore.
âWe look at map,â he says. We move to a spot where thereâs some light and attempt to figure out what to do. And now, our luck isnât too good. No matter what we do, we end up more confused. And itâs getting darker and darker. Now, the castle is simply eerie and no longer as beautiful.
âHey,â a man who appears employee-like says from up above us. âThe castle closed at 6 pm.â
âUm,â I say. âWeâre very sorry. Can you help us out?â
âNo,â he says. âYou must stay here nowâspend the night.â
âPlease, no,â I say. âHelp us.â
Then, he disappears. And when Chika realizes it, she looks as if sheâs seen a ghost. Shinobu doesnât look much better. My heart is palpitating.
At minute later, the man comes back, laughing. Perhaps he wanted to scare us as punishment. âOKâŠ.I open the door,â he says. The problem? We still donât know how to get to the exit.
And then, our savior materializes. Itâs our mystery manâour special host from before. âCome,â he says. And we follow, like obedient castle slaves, willing to do whatever to earn our freedom. At that point, I would have eaten the bad hummus again.
In minutes, weâre at the large and heavy gateâwhich only he could open. He laughs as he lets us out.
âI feel likeâŠâ Shinobu says. âA prisoner?â I add, completing his sentence. Giggles from him and Chika.
âYes,â Chika says. âCrazy castle man setting us free now.â I feel relieved as he unlocks the large gate, the entrance-exit. Heâs grunting again, laughing and waving goodbye.
Now, back in the taxi, Iâm let out a sigh of relief. So do Chika and Shinobu. The taxi driver reveals to us our friendâs true identity: night castle watchman.
I turn and look back at the castle and see that he, crazy castle man, is still waving at us. And laughing. At nothingâŠnothing at all. And I wonder who will be his next prisonersâbackpacker-guests, that isâand if theyâll be as lucky as we were.
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