Damascus, and a lesson in hospitality

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Hey all,

We were up early (but not too early) on Saturday to enjoy our only day as a group in Damascus, as myself and Jason would be departing the trip the next day. We were taxied in near the old town, and Graham gave us a quick tour of all the important sites, including Syria’s best ice-cream shop! The souq in the old city was amazing, long winding streets lined with tall shops displaying everything from wedding dresses and sweets to brooms and antiques, covered with roofing and housing a bustling atmosphere. We were left to our own devices in the old city so Missy, Holly, JC, Emma and I dandered through the souqs before going to the Umayyad Mosque, an incredibly beautiful and historic mosque. We (women) robed up and took ourselves on a tour around the internal courtyard, admiring the golden mosiacs and walking into the prayer hall to witness the shrine of St John the Baptist, which apparantly contains the head of the man himself. It's at this point if nowhere else in Damascus, that you can trace the history of the civilisations that have inhabited the city. The mosque was built in AD705 and still contains arctitectural details of the Byzantine church it once was. And just outside the entrance are the ruins of a Roman temple, that now form a portal to the Souq al-Hamidiyya.

We took a couple of random paths around the old town to soak up more of the atmosphere and ended up walking down the side of the citadel, with some pretty whitewashed houses by a canal on the other. We looked up and saw an old man waving down at us from a window, that was part of an art gallery. We decided we needed to find this art gallery and took a walk down the next souk, somehow managing to find a hole in the wall that led up a steep flight of steps at to Salam Omar's door. Salam Omar is an Iraqi artist with a stunning portfolio of abstract work. A lot of his work looks dark and industrial but he says he is moving on to dramatic colours. A lot of his new work incorporates the work of the poet Omar Khayyám. We experienced true hospitality as Salam plied us with tea and coffee while chatting to us about his work and his life. We asked him if he knew of anywhere we could go for lunch, and he insisted on escorting us through the old city. We went to Grape Leaves which has been recommended by the New York Times. While we were waiting for a table, he bumped into another artist friend, Nawal Alsadon, who invited us into her home which was also her studio. It was beautiful, very bohemian and romantic. Her artwork, sculpture and photography were displayed in the foyer and gallery amid splashes of paint, her pet doves ran about the floor. She invited us into her bedroom to show us photos of her children, who are also in the arts and live in Copenhagen. Her room was a dream- old antique furniture, throws on the bed, books stacked up the wall. She told us that she prefers to live in Damascus as opposed to Copenhagen as it reminds her of Iraq, and that she is very worried about the future of Syria.

At this point the doorbell went, it was the restaurant telling us that our table was ready! We said goodbye to Nawal and Salam, and enjoyed our meals. After walking around the souqs again we picked up a box of preserved fruits for Salam to say thank you. We made our way to the al-Nawfara coffee shop to play gin rummy and catch up with the rest of the group. The famous storyteller Aby Shady was present and we waited patiently for him in the smoky room to tell his stories. He didn't disapoint and was a great entertainer, not that we understood a word! He mounted his throne (literally) smacked his stick against a high copper-top table and delivered his story in a very enthuasiastic manner! The locals were very familiar with the experience as they joined in, clapped and cheered along! It lasted for about an hour, at which point we were hungry again.

We all had to get a taxi back to the campsite, and of course all the taxi drivers wanted to charge us a fortune! However we got a good deal from one guy so six of us girls piled into his car and away we went. The driver had great craic from the squeals of us as he dodged the crazy Syrian traffic. As we got out he invited us all to his home the next night to have dinner with his family. As touched as we were with Syrian hospitality we had to decline. We were cooking again that night, and tried camel meat which was very tasty, exactly like beef steak. We also met the new girl who would be joining the tour as they head on to Turkey.

It was a busy morning as we broke camp and Jason and I had to take all our belongings from the truck. We said goodbye to everyone before we all went our seperate ways at 8am. Jason and I checked into al-Haramain hostel, an 800-year old Damascene house with some interesting characteristics. The house is built around a central courtyard (covered), the only three showers are in the basement, the only toilets are on the first and second floor, and we had to climb the most lopsided staircase to get to our room! It was a really lovely hostel, very clean and good banter with the staff. We couldn't access our room until the afternoon, so we deposited our bags for another random tour of Damascus. We found our way back to the main souq, getting kissed on the cheeks by a man selling goldfish along the way. We walked around the outskirts keeping our eyes peeled for a coffee shop along the way, and stumbled upon another art studio/gallery/school of sculpture. We got chatting to an American artist called Jill who was glueing a mosaic piece together and invited us to her exhibition later that day.

Somehow we managed to find our way out of the backstreets and onto the main road of the Jewish quarter, where we finally found a coffee shop. Shops only really start opening at 10am as they stay open a lot later. We read the paper and relaxed there until we decided to do some more sightseeing and made our way back to see the Citadel. Upon arriving we discovered that it is closed to the public due to rennovation. We started chatting to one of the guys there and somehow managed to get ourselves on a free and private tour of the Citadel!! It is part of the ancient city of Damascus, and has lasted from before the time of the crusades. It has been repaired and re-constructed by a variety of civilisations including the Mamluks and the Ottoman Turks, and we even found a Roman pillar in it! We couldn't really understand our unexpected guide too well, it sounded like he was speaking a mixture of Arabic and English with a French accent, but it was still very interesting. We were taken up and down towers, explored different rooms and looked down holes. When the citadel opens again to the public in a month's time it will again host a variety of concerts, have a museum of mosiacs, and a museum to Saladin - the Arab hero who fought and won against the Crusades.

Our guide had a word with us about the current state of Syria, on the third floor of a tower well out earshot although he still whispered. He says that living under the president's rule is like living under a dictatorship, there is no freedom of movement or speech, and that people live in fear of the police. The police and army shoot people instead of recognising their right to protest and think nothing of imprisoning or torturing the citizens. He wants the president to go.

We headed back to the hostel to chill out and snooze for awhile. I met our other roomate, Dominic from Paris who has been to Damascus a couple of times before. Jason and I headed out for dinner later but had an interesting experience in the restaurant when they just wouldn't let us leave, instead trying to ply us with a fruit course and a sweets course before the bill came. Early night as we were both shattered.

Monday was my last day in Damascus! I said goodbye to Jason at 7am who was flying home, and forced myself to lie on in bed until half past eight! I met some of the other people in the hostel at breakfast: a Palestinian man who is a Biology teacher in London, an English girl living in Jordan, an Irishman living in India, and a Swedish/German couple on a two-week holiday. Breakfast was an interesting platter - olives, an apple, cucumber peices, a hardboiled egg, a triangle of cheese, and jam with the compulsory basket of bread. I chose the arabic coffee which was like getting shot in the head with a caffeine bullet!!

I headed into the old city again and lazily wandered around the art shops, I stopped in al-Nawfara coffee shop again to people watch and sampled some delicious bread with cheese and herbs from a street vendor. While coming out of a tile shop I met up with the Palestinian man from my hostel, Zeid, who invited me to sit with him and his friend Remon, who owned the antiques store they were outside. Remon restores old swords and daggers, and while he made us all tea he showed me his work. He showed me the famous Damascene steel - a very swirly mix of carbons which makes it very strong- and old Ottoman swords made with buffalo horn and ivory. We chatted about his family, originally Armenian, and he told me about a state-of-the-art assessment centre in Qatar when he learned about my work.

Zeid invited me to tour a Damascene house with him, he has been to Damascus many times over the last thirty years and knew a lot of people as we walked around. He showed me old examples of architecture in archways and corners that I wouldn't have otherwise noticed, and talked about what Damascus was like before it was noticed by tourists. I suspect he would be brilliant at a historical preservation job. The house was closed so we went to a coffee shop ands drank camomile tea while Zeid regaled me with stories about how randy and frustrated Arab men must be. Escaping this conversation I said my goodbyes and continued shopping, popping into Grape Leaves again for dinner. I bumped into my roomate Dominic before heading back to the hostel, where I had great fun trying to pack my bag!!

Later I went down to the communal courtyard and chatted to Abdullah at reception, and he told me the three stories of Abu Shady. The storyteller only tells a certain amount of the story at a time to keep his audience waiting until the next night. Each story is handwritten and about 500 pages long.

- a black Bedouin man wants to marry his white cousin, but her family oppose his request and say that he must first give them 100 red camels. These are impossible to find but the man makes it his quest. He searches high and low, and discovers a rich king who has the camels. He is a brave warrior and starts to fight the kings soldiers, killing many but is eventually arrested. The king asks why the man has attacked his soldiers, and the man explains about needing the camels so that he can marry his cousin. The king is a benevolent man and gives the man the 100 red camels.

- a man is an alchololic and a womaniser, but once was a brave and fierce warrior. He seeks revenge when his cousin kills his brother and puts aside his bad habits. The war is long and bloody, and the man is captured and left out in the desert where he loses his mind. After a while he starts to remember who he is and seeks revenge once again.

- and there is another story about another fierce warrior!

I went to bed relatively early but stayed up late chatting with Dominic swapping ghost stories. He told me how he used to be able to sense the presence of ghosts when he was younger, very creepy!

Tuesday the 12th dawned early and I was flying home! I talked more politics with my taxi driver in the way to the airport, who is conviced that the president is a good man surrounded by bad people, and that the protests will not get the reform the government needs. Damascus airport is unlike any airport I have ever been to before, you first go through a passport check before security check, then go on to get your boarding pass, before ending up in the departure lounge! I didn't get asked the usual questions (did you pack your bag yourself) and walked through with a litre bottle of water and a can of fizzy juice. Interesting! The departure lounge consisted of two duty free shops, a restaurant, and loads of sweet shops, and I got more hassle walking around there than I did in the souqs! I met two guys flying back to Scotland, who had been travelling around Syria, and nearly got caught up in a protest after prayers on Friday in a small town. The flight was uneventful although we still thought it was pretty funny flying over London with a lot of unchecked liquids from the Middle East. Heathrow had plenty of security checks to make up for it however!

So all in all, a fantastic adventure, and I will never forget all the people I have met along the way. Damascus is an amazing city and my thoughts are with all the warm, generous, hospitable people we met there as the troubles in Syria persist.

Orla

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Photos

Umayyad Mosque
robes for Western women