Large, big-bellied and brightly painted
boasts sail back and forth between the city of Tartous and the island of
Arwad, lying flat on the blue surface of the sea a few miles off shore.
The boats leave from the fishermen’s harbor where what seem to be old
Mediterranean tartanes appear to have been left behind. From out at sea
the honey-colored town, huddled in the center between the ruins of
ramparts on the sea-front, appears to be pulled towards the north where
the shapes of industrial developments are a sign of its newly acquired
status as an oil port.
To the south is a flat sandy coast that looks like an unbroken beach. In
the background, green hills roll away towards the distant peaks of the
coastal mountain range.
At the end of the short forty minute crossing, the scene changes, but a
is no less appealing to the visitor. The Isle of Arwad, round and
tightly packed like a bee-hive, consists of a conglomeration of houses
and of strongholds. The sea beats up against the foot of the walls.
There is no tree and not a single piece of vegetation in sight. There is
only one open space, and a rather confined one at that, which serves
both as quayside, wharf and forum, and which looks on to the busy harbor
full of sailing-boats and fishing-smacks of all colors. Souvenir sellers
add to the bustle, and restaurants built on piles overlook the little
port. Some way off on the other side of a jetty lies another, deeper
harbor to take the decked vessels. A maze of narrow streets lead up to
the highest point on the island where a 13 century stronghold raises its
crenellated walls.
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