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Published: January 22nd 2011
Have I only been here 2 1/2 weeks? It seems longer, probably because every day here is a whole new experience. At the same time, I am frustrated with all that I haven't seen and done. Two years will hardly be long enough to explore Syria alone, never mind the neighboring countries.
Here's a few snapshots of my daily life outside of work -- which takes up a considerable amount of my days, unfortunately!
Last Saturday I decided it was time to make an appointment at a local hair salon. I knew the success of this venture would be a serious test of my ability to survive in Damascus, so I approached it with some trepidation. Would wearing a head scarf be out of the question if things didn’t work out? I decided the hotel concierge would be a good place to start. He booked the appointment, and a driver picked me up a few hours later, courtesy of the salon. The salon owner spoke English fairly well so no problems communicating what I needed… colour and blow dry. I wasn’t willing to brave the scissors just yet. Everything was just fine until we got to the blow dry.
In typical Syrian fashion, the whole treatment required 4 people…the colour guy, the tea guy, the stylist and eventually even the owner stepped in to apply his own technique and a bottle of hair spray. Yikes!! I’ve never been so “man handled” my life. The stylist grabbed my short hair by the roots with his little round brush and applied the blow dryer so close to my head I could feel my skin burning. At one point in the torture his assistant even held my ears out of the way so the stylist could get a better grip on my hair. Ouch!! He was doing his best to make me conform to the Syrian look, and I’m sure he was frustrated by my lack of hair. (All Syrian women have long locks.) I think my hair is still in recovery. (photo below)
Monday evening I found a great bookstore down the street, and picked up a copy of Damascus - A Travel Guide, by Carol Corm and May Mamarchi. This is a must if you are spending more than a few days in this city. It’s loaded with great information on the history and culture; with advice from locals
on how best to experience it. In this book I read about Jane Digby, “the notorious and passionate beauty who ended her days in Damascus in 1881 as the wife of a Bedouin Sheikh. In the intervening years she married at 17, eloped with an Austrian prince, married a German baron, had affairs with, among others, the King of Bavaria, a Corfiot count and an Albanian brigand!” It piqued my interest, as she was one of the first European women to set foot in the city, and she loved the place. Lo and behold, there was Mary Lovell’s biography of Jane staring up at me next time I visited the bookshop, so I had to buy it.
Tuesday evening I checked out the promise of “alternative rock” at Pages café a few blocks from my hotel. Pages is what Starbucks wishes it could be - a very cool café that’s always full of young intellectual-looking types reading books and magazines, texting and browsing the internet. The smoke can be a little thick but you just have to get used to it. A fairly decent little trio was playing “Without Love” by the Doobie Brothers when I arrived, followed by
another band pumping out Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water”. The crowd was into it, dancing and singing along, and the quality of the music was ok, but it was a little déjà vu for me. Those were really big hits when I was in high school.
Wednesday I went for stroll in a different area, in between my hotel and the old city. I paused to look in the window of a sweet shop and the owner beckoned me to the door and handed me a cookie. Before I knew it I was sitting at a table in the back room drinking thick Turkish coffee and eating a lovely slice of chocolate cake. We laughed at our inability to communicate and when I left, the two gentlemen demanded that I return tomorrow to visit. Of course I haven’t returned yet, and I’m already feeling guilty at the many promises I have made to return to places. You can see how living here would slow you down….keeping up with acquaintances takes time.
Friday (holy day) I fully intended to go for a run and see how far I could get up Jebel Quassioun. But I woke up at
noon with a nasty cold, so took my time eating a pizza in the sunshine, then headed out for a stroll in the Abou Roumaneh district, full of elegant old French art deco buildings (see photos). I kept heading up and up and up, and I think I made it close to the top of the houses on the side of the mountain. But I was in the wrong place to get to the top. Eventually the stairs ended at someone’s house, and a man gestured that I should go another way. It was time to head home anyway. On the way I stopped at a park and a fountain (see photos) and took a photo of all the families out enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
Saturday, feeling somewhat better, I woke earlier and got to the Old City before noon. My intent was to find a store that sells embroidery designed and made by Palestinian refugee women, near the end of Straight Street. Well, I didn’t make it that far. First there was the seller of original handmade Damascene brocade, who had to show me all his wares, then there was Azem Palace, a great place to learn about
Abou Roumaneh
art deco gatethe history of the Ottoman Empire in Damascus, then there was the Japanese photography exhibition in Khan As’ad Pasha, then I stopped at a little woodworking shop to take a photo….and then my Syrian experience repeated itself all over again. I was invited in by the 75-year-old grandfather sitting in the back of this tiny little workshop, and soon I was drinking tea, sharing their lunch of hummus and flatbread, showing them photos of Calgary, Libya and Argentina on the camera, and communicating with hand signals and halting English through the 23-year-old grandson. Men came in and out and there was much laughter, mostly at my expense I’m sure, but who cares when you don't understand it. (I have a sneaking suspicion the old man was boasting that he could seduce me.) It was the most amazing, and yet the most ordinary experience, because it happens here all the time. I finally made my way out of the workshop and made the mistake of stopping a few stores down to look at some beautiful scarves (scarves, or sweets, will be the death of me here!!). The owner invited me in, and soon I was drinking more tea, trying on scarves,
then some lovely necklaces. You can predict the rest of this story….
Here’s some advice for anyone who goes to the souk. If you don’t want to spend any money, don’t stop and talk to anyone. Don’t even look at anyone! It’s almost impossible NOT to buy something, once you’ve stepped in the store, so choose your stopping points carefully.
But the nice thing here is that the purchase is just the beginning of the buyer/seller relationship if you are staying more than a few days. My new friend spoke excellent English. He studied design in London and travels throughout Europe, Asia and the Middle East on business. He wanted to show me his other store in the old city, and then we ended up in his favourite restaurant, a beautiful courtyard in one of the old city’s old hotels. (see photo) Imagine yourself sitting in a courtyard by a fountain in a building that’s centuries old, surrounded by orange trees and vines, with caged birds singing in the background and every table filled with families and friends enjoying a day off together. On every wall is a flat screen TV (just like Canada) with the Asian Cup
soccer game on, and just like everywhere else in the world, the men are glued to it. Actually, it was a very good game. The score was 0-0, but sadly the Auzzies then won in overtime. My Syrian friend was not happy. It was the referee’s fault, of course. A few hours, many more cups of tea and coffee and a few mezze dishes later, I was on my way home again.
So that’s another week in Damascus. At this rate, it will take me a year to get to the end of Straight Street, and another year to get back again. Let’s call it “slow travel”, kind of like the slow food movement.
PS If you click on the photos you get the enlarged version.
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Ravi Natt
non-member comment
You seem to be having a blast.