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Published: January 14th 2011
Jebel Qassioun at night
From the window of my room in the lovely Four Seasons.Images are still swirling around in my brain, like the tiny pieces of a Damascene mosaic, waiting for an experienced craftsman to warm up a pot of glue and arrange them in an intricate pattern that makes sense.
Setting the Scene:
It reminds me a little of Canada's north. When you focus on the details it can appear barren and ugly. You have to take your focus back a ways and take in the larger picture. The city is surrounded by low mountains, the most prominent being Jebel Quassioun (see photos). The mountains look bleak-- brownish bare rock with no vegetation, until you notice how they constantly change in colour throughout the day, with soft hues of pink, blue, orange. They're most beautiful in the morning and evening light. The buildings are mostly dull brown-grey concrete on the outside, often half built or falling apart. They stumble over and around each other and up the side of the Jebel, blending into the rock so you hardly notice them. But go inside an old mosque, restaurant or hotel and you'll see the colour, intricate mosaics covering every surface, gilded with gold, coloured glass, luxurious brocades of silk. Tiny exquisite detail in
Jebel Quassioun
View from my hotel window. everything, in contrast to the large, monochrome landscape outside.
The People:
Everywhere I go, I hear "welcome madame". Last Thursday night, wandering in the old souk, map in hand, I asked a few women how to find the Beit (house) of someone I know and have marked on somewhat rudimentary map. Next thing I know, a young man who speaks perfect English is offering to help me find it, and we wander the rabbit warren of lanes and streets in the old city for at least an hour with nothing but an approximate location and the name of the house. He keeps apologizing for being being too curious (aka helpful) and for bothering me. I apologize for wasting his time. But he is happy to help! He walks the city for about three hours every Thursday night, just for the exercise. Eventually we find the place, and he is as pleased as I am. No one is home, so he insists on walking me back to the hotel, just to make sure I don't get lost. Polite and considerate to the extreme.
This morning as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for my Garmin to locate satellites
Damascus
A view from Jebel Quassioun. It's often hazy and fairly polluted in Damascus in the winter. Lots of cars spewing nasty diesel, and the mountains create an inversion. Oh well. In the summer, Damascenes head to the smller resort towns in hills for cooler and cleaner air. so I could measure my run distance and pace, the traffic cop outside the hotel walked over to see what I was up to. He apologized for not being able to speak English, but wanted to see my gadget and what it does. When I returned an hour later, he smiled, waved and congratulated me on my run.
I was prepared for Syrian men to stare at me and make me feel uncomfortable. The only incident was a few young boys who found huge amusement in putting their hand out as if to shake mine, then pulling it back and laughing hysterically. Boys will be boys! There is "the Syrian stare" but I can't say that it bothers me. It's neither friendly or hostile. Just curous? Observant? The men do seem to stand around on the street a lot with nothing to do. Keeping an eye on things?
The food:
Ahhhh, the food! Syrians are proud people, and they are especially proud of their food. They really want foreigners to try everything and enjoy it. So if you sit down to a traditional Syrian meal, be prepared to eat, and eat and eat. As I explained to my
Syrian colleagues at a dinner in one of the country's best restaurants in Sednayya a few days ago, it's especially hard for someone like me because I like to try everything AND I hate to leave food uneaten. Forget about that. The meal began with huge bowls piled high with fresh vegetables. Then came plate after plate of appetizers....raw almonds that you peel the skin off of, roasted almonds and cashews, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, all kinds of things with goat cheese, eggplant, garlic, olive oil, peppers, and pita bread. And then the main course -- bbq'd chicken, lamb stew. Then desserts - traditional middle easten sweets with honey and pistachios wrapped up in little rolls of phyllo, halva, fresh fruit and dried fruit filled with honey. Sweetness everywhere.
Culture - Conservative?
I was sitting in the asian fusion dining room in the hotel , enjoying my thai green curry and the modern ambient music. An older Syrian couple took a seat in the corner. He was portly and dressd in a black suit with a heavy overcoat. She was in black from head to toe, with a head scarf. They were seated under a modern painting by a
Fruit
Sweet dried fruit on arival and fresh fruit every day at the four seasons. local artist, featuring abstract breasts and buttocks. She pulled out her cell phone and started texting.
The old city is divided into "Quarters" - Christian, Islamic, Jewish and ? I don't think there are too many Jews left, but Syrians will tell you proudly that they all get along just fine. My friend who walks the old city told me the Christians and Muslims go to school together, sharing a desk.
More later on visiting old convents and shrines, bargaining for jewelry, and learning about marquetry.
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Lynn Kuppe
non-member comment
Never have I felt more enticed to visit a place and your blog is not even an advert.! What an incredible escape (just reading your blog!). I feel like I'm reading a novel and can't wait for the next chapter! One can only imagine the gathering (in time) of supporters in the streets encouraging and monitoring your runs (heck, you probably won't even need your Garmin-they'll be looking at their stopwatches...). Hugs, Lynn