By us, I mean me, my backpack, Yuri, his Adidas holdall and tarpaulin shopping bag. Despite us having only met 15 minutes before, Yuri was my new best friend. Yuri is Ukrainian and speaks both Arabic and English, being a little shaky in the latter. His reasons for being in Syria were unclear, but on the plus side, he was heading for Aleppo too, and so we were in it together, and, unless he happened to pull out a knife, I didn’t intend to leave his sight until we were safely in Aleppo.

“They are bad men”, he assured me, pointing over to the three guys with their Mazdas. Al Qaeda, most likely, I murmured to myself, glibly.

“They want 1000 pounds for each of us to take us to Aleppo”.

By my calculations, they didn’t have seatbelts either. And 10 UK pounds for a 40km drive that, according to my Lonely Planet should cost 2? They were having a laugh. I wasn’t being tight- it was the principle of it.

“So we wait?”, I enquired.

He nodded.

From the looks of things, so would the Mazda men, quite happy to wait in the shade until we gave in. In this part of the world, brinkmanship is taught in schools, and with over an hour since the bus had dumped the pair of us there, they were winning.

Every ten minutes or so, another white Mazda or a yellow taxi would come into view, various limbs hanging out the doors and windows. Every so often, it would slow down for us, and my Ukranian friend would shout an unfathomable Arabic phrase, and the driver would keep driving. After the first couple of occasions, I caught on, with each taking a different branch of the intersection and trying to flag down any vehicle that would listen, before it then sped off.

We were going to die there, I was sure of it.

Yuri was in luck- a yellow taxi had pulled over, and they were talking in Arabic, with negotiations appearing to go positively. “He wants 200″, Yuri finally announced. Dollars? I scoffed- so far we had received offers of $10, $20 and one for $70 from a farmer in a pickup truck- which, in a country which you can travel across for $2, is basically a rude way of saying fuck off.

“No, you are familiar with Syrian Lira?”, “Of course”, I replied….200 Syrian pounds? We were in business, and piled in before he had the chance to drive away.

I took the back seat, with my Ukrainian friend in the front, discussing the ‘bad men’ with our honest savior taxi driver, the two of them passing his mobile phone back and forth, presumably to let the authorities know. The Mazda men were taking an interest. Yuri glanced over at them, furrowed his brow and closed his door. Following his lead, I did the same.

A few moments later, I glanced over to the cabbie. Shit. The Mazda men were at his door, not looking happy and were arguing with him loudly. When the hand gestures begin, you don’t need to know Arabic to know you’re in trouble.

Yuri gingerly edged his passenger side door back open, placing a foot outside onto the curb. I did the same, and prepared to follow him in getting the hell out of here.

The Mazda men were clearly not happy about having their extortion attempt rumbled, and one of them had reached into the driver’s side, and had grabbed hold of the taxi driver’s keys in the ignition. The savior taxi driver wasn’t giving in.

We were going to die.

A lengthy standoff of about 10 seconds ensued, and into the fith second, I knew that had this been the US or UK, we’d be shot or stabbed by now…how long did a hostage-taking take in this part of the world?

The cabbie grabbed Mazda man #1’s hand, pushing it back out the window long enough for him to turn the ignition and jam his foot on the gas. Mazda men leaping away from the speeding car in every direction, we made our getaway. I was Indiana Jones.

“This is honest man”, said Yuri. I nodded eagerly. I pulled out my Arabic phrasebook, looking for the word for thank you. “Shukran”, I attempted. He smiled in reply as Aleppo’s outer suburbs emerged from the dust.

Before the days grew long and numb
before we understood
the best the worst the world could store
when it felt that anything we wanted was ours
and be anything, we could.

There was a time when we knew who we were
and what we wanted to be.
There was a time when the World waited for us
There was a time when we were free.

And like a lamb to the slaugher
we ran towards this in delight
we wanted love we wanted to live
we wanted to see the truth and fight
for the world thought was ours.

We ran towards it willingly
love lured us in.
The greatest beauty
the greatest gift
the greatest glimpse of heaven we’ll ever get.
A fanciful hope, for maybe there’s a chance….?
So much more for which to live for
on red hot coals we dance.

For even love comes with a price
and gives us so much more to loose.
We become slaves to our dreams and hopes, yet freed by the vision of a better day.

So here we are now, forgive me for my cynicism
I am not a cynic or wise.
I merely see a World that just won’t work
a World I have come to dispise.
I am not a cynic
I see a world beyond this
I see a world when things were straight and pure and good
When screwed up ragged people were who they were meant to be.
That World was not perfect
merely straightforward, you knew where you stood.
I’d do anything to be back there with you now if I could.

Do you remember the way it used to be?
Throwing away the rose tinted spectacles
smashing them as our lives were smashed to pieces.
I’m sending in the salvage crew to find the parts of a broken heart
And when I do, I’ll go back to the start.

A short eternity ago life threw us together
and sure in our knowledge and wisdom in the ways of the world
we dared it to shake us.

It did.

I think you’ve rubbed off on me and I’ve rubbed off on you.

Cliches suck.

And so don’t sit here and tell me that nothing will change
Don’t mutter something about friends being forever
And don’t promise to keep in contact.

Does it make sense to chain two cars going in different directions together?

So let’s not be chained together.
Was our friendship the people or the things the people shared?
So it’s the sharing that matters.

Fate throws us together and fate will pull us apart.
The tide goes out
and when it returns
it will not be the same water.
But the tide is the tide
whatever the water in it
and it is the tide that matters
for we are all part
of the same sea.

Crap that’s been done 1000 times before
and 1000 times again.
It comes pre-packaged ready to eat
the way of the world
standing on his own two feet.

Eden’s apple ready-sliced and served in a plastic pouch
0.99 with any value meal just for you.
You can have anything from life
-as long as it’s on the menu.