Jazz, Mystics, Postcards and Curry

Friday 21st April

Still feeling a bit ill so I took it easy. In the evening we managed to wrangle free tickets to the album launch concert of a Syrian singer called Lena Chamamyan. A couple of hundred invited guests - Damascene movers and shakers, probably, though they meant nothing to us - crowded into the courtyard of the house of the artist Mustafa Ali, often checking each other out as much as they were checking out the songs. The music was a little polite at times but her voice was beautiful and the overall effect was often highly evocative. I made a resolution to check out more Syrian music whilst I’m here.

Sat 22nd April

Picked up a CD-Rom of old photographs and postcards of Damascus collected by a guy who works in an Internet Café in Saroujah. Some wonderful images of Damascus in the nineteenth century, including many examples of 'Eastern exoticism' undoubtedly aimed at Europeans.

The depth of the history of this place never fails to move me. Its really getting under my skin, especially given the fact that so much remains relatively unexamined...

Sun 23rd April

Walked up to Sahiliya on the lower slopes of Jebel Qasyun, north of the city centre. This area, once a predominatly Kurdish village north of Damascus but long since overtaken by the city's sprawl, is littered with many shrines and madrassas. Tragically they are now mainly neglected, abandoned and boarded up, though if you look through cracks in the doorways some spectacular coloured glass windows and interiors can still be seen.

The main attraction in the area is the tomb of the famed mystic Mohi ad-Din Ibn al-Arabi, one of the great figures in Islamic philosophy, which is located in a pretty but modest mosque in a souq area (below). Its strange that such a big figure in Islam has such a modest resting place. As always, we were welcomed into the chamber containing the tomb, given sweets and a short talk (in Arabic!) about the tomb. Its a shame neither C-lo nor I understood much! In the evening we met some friends and had dinner at the top of the hill, where we admired the lights of the city stretching out to the horizon.


Tuesday 25th April

Gave into the urge - went out for a curry in one of the few Indian restaurants in town. Boy, was it good to tuck into a naan and a peshwarma kebab! This was by far the most expensive meal I've had since I been in Syria, perhaps because it was located near the capital of bling - the brand spanking new and Saudi financed Four Seasons hotel (five stars, sweetie).

So, for that unmissable taste of home, we forked out 2500 Syrian lira - that's about 25 UK pounds - for a meal for three, including three beers! What a life... :-)

Road Trip: Krak-Hama-Aleppo-Musyaf

Tuesday 18th April 2006

In the morning C-lo and I departed Damascus with four friends for a three day trip to the north of Syria. In late morning we arrived in Homs – Syria’s unloved third city – where we hired a taxi and driver for the day. As we departed for the Crusader castle Krak Des Chevaliers we were holding our breaths – partly at anticipation at seeing one of the most majestic and best preserved Medieval castles in the world, and partly because the six of us were crammed into four car seats!

Our first stop was at St George’s Monastery, located on a hilltop opposite Da Krak. Aside from affording us good views of the main attraction, it was an interesting visit in its own right – the site of a 6th Century church, though the existing churches date back to the 13th and 19th Centuries respectively. There were some fine icons and wood carvings.
Then it was time to visit the Krak and none of us were disappointed. It is an impressive piece of military architecture, labyrinthine in its complexity with many passageways tantatisingly leading down into the darkness into who-knows what crypts and catacombs. Above ground there remains a relatively well-preserved mix of Gothic, Romanesque and Arabic building styles (the Crusaders surrendered the castle to the Mamluks in 1271). It was quiet – just a large group of Spaniards and a handful of other tourists - and aside from the T-Shirt hawkers and self-appointed guides we were left alone to explore at our leisure.
On the way up and down to the castle we passed through a small hillside village where the locals were friendly and fascinated by us (some children shouted ‘Come and look at the beautiful foreigners!’). We accepted the inevitable offer of a super sugary tea from a weathered man wearing a kufeyya (traditional black/white or red/white head-dress). He chatted to us in Arabic about the village (‘Muslims and Christians here are like one family’) and the local trails and shrines for about half an hour until the sugar had kicked in and it was time for us to hit the road again.

We spent the evening in the city of Hama. Compared with Damascus it felt more chilled and airy. This was particularly surprising given the trauma suffered by the city in February 1982 when an insurrection led by the Muslim Brotherhood was crushed, killing thousands. The only clue to this bloody moment in the recent past is the visible lack of old buildings in the heart of the city – during the fighting almost all the Old City was destroyed.
But these events seemed very distant as we dined on the banks of the Orontes, serenaded by scores of frogs, and wandered through the city centre souqs, greeted by abayya-clad ladies and teenaged bicylists alike. I got the impression that not many foreigners spent much time here, which is a shame. If we get the chance I’d like to go back.


Wednesday 19th April 2006

Today our road trip moved onto Aleppo – Syria’s second city with a population of about 3 million, and currently Islamic Capital of Culture 2006. The heart of the city is the Citadel which stands on a commanding position atop a tell overlooking the Old City. It is an impressively imposing structure dating back to the 12th Century, and houses 2 mosques, a palace, and a modern facsimile of a Roman amphitheatre. We spent many hours up there enjoying the quiet and calm in the late afternoon sunshine.
The interior of the Citadel was a world away from the heat, smells and bustle of Aleppo’s souqs. The covered markets stretch for miles and are rightly famed throughout the Middle East. We were on the hunt for some fabrics for C-lo but a mixture of fatigue and the onset of Delhi belly put a premature end to our visit.

As I sat over the hole I was able to ponder the ways that Aleppo differed from Damascus - the better condition of the Old City in Aleppo (thanks in part to World Heritage status and German expertise), the fewer numbers of stray cats (there are thousands all over central Damascus), the absence of the Lambada... (when cars reverse in Damascus, chances are that they'll end up emitting a weedy electronic version of the Lambada. But this seems to be a regional preference cos whereas I hear the Lambada dozens of times a day back in Damas, I barely heard it in Aleppo - the drivers there were mainly rocking to an ice-cream van version of 'It's a Small, Small World').

Thursday 20th April 2006

We left Aleppo early on a two and a half hour bus ride down to the town of Musyaf – the location of the legendary mountain stronghold of the Old Man of the Mountains, leader of the Nizari Ismaili sect popularly known as the Assassins. However, the reality proved to be far less mysterious than the myth – whilst the tales of the sect’s drug-fuelled debauchery were undoubtedly the product of overblown Western imaginations, the castle was pretty disappointing – it looked solid enough but hardly impregnable and certainly paled in comparison to the great Krak.

However, the main purpose of our trip here was not to see sights, it was to eat! We enjoyed the hospitality of my housemate’s sister who had called in her mum as reinforcements to help prepare a feast for us. After the umpteenth course of food (‘Kul!’ – ‘Eat!’), the customary session on the nargileh (water pipe), and a shared glass of arak with her husband, we were all feeling ready to pass out, sitting dozily on the balcony looking out over the ugly concrete town and the beautiful green rolling hills behind.

The pit-stop at Musyaf gave us fuel for an epic oxygen-starved 3 hour bus-ride back to Damascus. It was a relief to be dropped off amongst the noise and dust that is becoming so familiar, not least because my guts were starting to be in full rebellion. After some time glued to the hole in the floor which we optimistically call a toilet I decided to put off the planned trip to Beirut for another occasion.

Picnic on the Golan Heights

Monday 17th April 2006

Our Arabic teacher invited us to join him and his other students on a picnic trip to the Golan Heights. 17th April marks the withdrawal of the last French soldiers from Syrian soil in 1946 and every year the Syrian Government allows people to enter the Golan in order to call for an end to the continued Israeli occupation of Syrian soil. Associated Press reported that 100,000 people took part this year. I was struck by how the roads leading south from Damascus had taken on a ‘Wacky Races’ quality, with people crammed aboard all modes of transport - cars, tricycles, tractors, even donkeys – racing southwards.

The celebration/demonstration was centred on the ghost-town of Quneitra, formerly home to 37,000 people, but following its systematic destruction by Israeli forces now just a collection of rubble and the abandoned and battle-scarred shells of buildings.

When we arrived at 8 in the morning it was packed with people, starting cooking fires and reclaiming their territory. However, our uncommunicative mini-bus driver refused to acquiesce in our desire to explore the site. Instead, after an exasperating and seemingly aimless hour-long drive around the countryside we were dropped off at a scenic spot in the foothills where we set up our picnic.

Nearby a small PA system was set-up and the area soon filled up with families who spent the afternoon eating picnics, playing football, waving flags and dancing to patriotic songs. Despite the highly charged political content of the day we had a very pleasant afternoon and, as ever, people were welcoming. We ended up meeting a family of Syrian Communists who explained the songs about Palestine, Syria and the Arab Nation and invited us to participate in the festivities.

It was the birthday of the Prophet on Monday - most of the streets have been strewn with banners and people were handing out coffee and sweets. C-lo and I ended up making some new friends...

On that topic, it is striking how friendly many of the people here are - we have been given so many phone numbers accompanied by offers to help us with anything we need in Syria. The one English word that almost everyone here seems to know is "Welcome".

Its been a busy week with the Arabic, we were tested on what we have learned so far. I think I did pretty well - managed to remember 25 verbs and make up basic sentences based on them - i.e. I am eating bread.

Also been a busy week in the house - we've had a few late nights which have generally culminating up on the roof terrace. The weather most of this week has (finally!) been sunny and warm - with temperatures in the late 20s - so the nights have been very pleasant. We've met quite a few new and interesting people whom we hope to get to know better, inshallah.

On Friday we went on a walk to explore some new areas of Damascus - ended up encountering a mix of narrow alleyways (below) and quite grand tree-lined alleyways dating back a century or so.

This really is a place that needs exploration. Many modest exteriors disguise grandiose interior courtyards. On Friday we gained entrance to one place which has recently opened as an expensive hotel - Hotel Talisman. It is located in a modest alleyway in the south of the Old City - only the ornate wooden doorway gives any hint at the palatial interior: a huge courtyard complete with swimming pool sized fountain, beautiful tiles and ceilings. When we were allowed to look around there was some 1940s music playing gently. The whole scene suggested sedate colonial-era decadence - a striking contrast to the noise, dust and chaotic streetlife outside.

Unfortunately this example is rare - I guess that a combination of an excess of historical heritage and a lack of money has meant that so much is left uncared for. We see dozens of what once must have been grand buildings now left abandoned and literally ruined. Oh well.

Road to Damascus

C-lo and I took our first trip outside the the noise and pollution of the big city to Maalula, a predominantly Christian village built into the mountains about50 miles north of Damascus where many of the inhabitants still speak Aramaic. There were a couple of convents built into the hills which were dotted with clefts and caves, it was nice to see the place being used by groups of Syrians having family picnics and such like. Outside the cafe at the summit there was even a convention of Syrian motorbikers!
The landscape was dramatic and the place had a certain charm, but, as with so much of Syria, seemed fairly poorly cared for, presumably due to a lack of funds. In this case the cleft and caves were strewn with boxes of rubbish left behind by visitors.

In the evening we went to our first Damascene night club. It was packed with a mix of Westerners and funky young Syrians. It was great to be out, socialising with our new flat-mates and the club was fun in small doses, but the music was a very cheesy by London standards (an eclectic mix of Arabic, European and American pop).

Nevertheless, before we came to Damascus I wasn't sure that such places existed in Syria. It was super cheap for us (I spent about 4 UK pounds 50 all night including entrance fee and 2 bottles of beer!). However, it would seem that it was only for the comparatively well off young Syrians.

First Post

Well, here it is, the eagerly (!) anticipated blog documenting Dave's adventures in the venerabe city of Damascus. I can almost feel your sense of excitement. Here's the story so far.

1)

We have now been in Damascus for two days and we are having a fantastic time.

Yesterday morning was a little manic, arriving in a sleepless daze and being ambushed by a horde of taxi touts. It was too much to take in, the city was absolutely buzzing, even at 6.30 in the morning - crowded with people buying from the souqs - then suddenly we were dropped off,
disoriented outside a fairly modest looking alley which was where our hotel is. At that time everyone was asleep - we had to wake the porter with our banging, and were informed that our room would not be available for many hours.

However, since then it has all been smooth sailing. Our room is modest but the hotel itself is a beautiful Damascene house with a courtyard containing a fountain, frescoes and a canopy of trees.

Everyone has been very friendly and helpful towards us - whether the local cafe owners, waiters in restaurants or even people in the street. We have already looked at one really nice room in a large house shared with a mix of Westerners (French, German, Italian) and Syrians - it is in the city centre for only 75 UK pounds a month!

We are beginning to know our way around and have already explored quite a lot of central Damascus. It is so busy - especially in the early evening, and surprisingly cosmopolitan. There is a real mix of fashions - women's dress ranges from black chador and niqab (face covering) to skin tight bling! The two dominant sounds of the city are the muezzins call to prayer (5 times a day), which has to fight to be heard above the chorus of honking car horns (almost 24 hours a day!). It is noisy at night but I slept well nonethless (so tired!).

The food is excellent and very cheap by our standards. We have been eating so much we are gonna gain so much weight which will be good for me, but C-lo is not so happy at the idea of gaining 5 kilos!

Hope all is well in the UK... London seems a long way away from here at the moment. Take care. You'll hear from me again soon inshallah (there are hundreds of internet cafes!).


2)

Just spent an age composing a long update on our first (busy!) week in Syria but it got lost in transmission (probably too many pictures!).

We have a flat sharing with four others. Its a nice place, rooms on two floors around a shared courtyard in a predominantly Muslim residential area in the centre of the city.


We start Arabic lessons tomorrow.

Today was a sandstorm - weird mix of rain and sand. The sky is a dramatic dull red colour.
It was pretty amazing how the colour of everything has gradually changed, almost imperceptibly until a layer of red dust has descended over the city. Suddenly we are transported to the surface of Mars...
3)

There are a lot of internet cafes, but they are all quite idiosyncratic - unreliable connections, dodgy old keyboards etc. This one is in French Cultural Centre near my Arabic class - its a French keyboard which means many of the letters are in the wrong places - kinda weird, and slow for me to type. But I have a fantastic view looking over the city towards the hill to the north of Damascus and the buildings which creep up its lower slopes.

We will soon get an internet connection installed in our flat, inshallah, which will make it easier to set up a blog and organise our many photos.

Anyways, glad to hear everyone is doing good in their respective parts of the world. It feels like we have been here for ages. The flat is working out well - people are chilled and really interesting.

Since the sandstorm nothing too exciting has happened, been too busy with classes and homework. Its only day two and my teacher has given me about 100 words to learn!!! Buying things from my local area can still be a real effort (though its still surprising how many Syrians
know some English), not least because many words in Syrian dialect are different to the classical Arabic I am learning/have learnt.

It is definitely different here though perhaps not in the ways that you would expect. Damascus is bustling and super crowded yet more leisurely than London, and it feels v safe, provided you do not meddle in domestic politics. Mind you, seems like Syrians do not always trust each other - still the fear of the secret police which can get a little infectious sometimes.
Pictures of the President and/or his illustrious father are ubiquitous, sometimes also with Nasrallah, the leader of Hizbullah. There is clearly an industry churning out patrionic posters which, especially in the city centre, can be huge and commanding.
Most people have mobiles, the guys do not dress too differently from in UK - jeans, trainers etc. Some form of hijab is common but not dominant, and is often worn over tight tops, jeans etc. The infamous black chador is not very common and seems mostly to be worn by the hordes of Iranian pilgrims who come by the coach-load to visit the holy sites here, or by Saudi tourists.

The guys are very into football - first thing they ask is what team I support. Beckham is on posters advertising Pepsi. Most homes have satellite TV - our one has about 250 channels with everything from racy Arabic pop videos (surprising amounts of female flesh on display), Islamic scholars giving judgements, agony aunt shows, dubbed cartoons from US and Japan (Ninja Turtles in Arabic - v funny), cookery programmes and cheesy US TV movies. Oh yeah and BBC World, Euronews etc. Indeed, it seems to C-lo and I that these people have far greater insight and access to our world than we have into theirs.