Saturday, June 27, 2009

Photos of Lebanon







Go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/35215585@N08/ to see all the photos.






Christmas in Lebanon 2008

Finally, the last installment for the three week trip in December 2008.

December 24
Woke up to a morning of thunderstorms with lightening and downpours. Several storms passed over the course of the morning while Lilian, Roy, her nephew, and me slowly gathering ourselves over tea, coffee, candied oranges, computer games, watching another storm and packing up to head to Lilian’s mom’s house in the mountains. Maybe snow up there?

Yesterday I had a painless, emotionally and physically, trip from Damascus to Beirut. I say physically because my stomach is churning over all the food I have been stuffing into it and I can feel something gurgling just below the surface waiting to erupt but glad yesterday was not the day. I thank my lucky stars even the twisty and gnarly roads of Lebanon and the dizzying traffic and exhaust of Beirut didn’t get the better of my sensitive stomach.

December 25
I woke up at 8:30 am after a sound nine hours of sleep under many covers to negate the cold. After watching and listening to the mom and another daughter battle it out over what to wear to church, mind you, this was performed in another language and I was not sure what the fuss was all about but it sounded life threatening, Lilian and I walked across the driveway to her brother’s house to wish her niece and nephew Rita and Chris ages 6 and 3 respectfully, a merry Christmas. We had yule log, cookies, and coffee to celebrate joy noel.

Lilan took me on a tour in the mountains while the fog lifted which was short lived. Snow and fog soon followed. We did get to see some ruins, an exclusive country club, the Intercontinental hotel, and strange rock formations. Now it is 1 pm and Lilian and her mom are cooking while I read and write until the next food fest.

Yesterday we arrived around 2:30pm relieved to be off the roads. The drive had bouts of torrential downpours, sleet, hail, and whipping wind. This did not bother Lilian in the least and that made me feel better. It was nice to relax in the kitchen by the old fashion wood stove used for cooking and heating. After lunch we settled into the room with a heater. The weather outside was damp, cold, and foggy. You could not see past the end of your arm it was that foggy. I could only imagine what the mountain scenery looked like. Two hours passed with knitting, talking, and TV. Then a two hour nap was followed by a visit to next door until 11pm.

With it being Christmas Lilian and her mom set out to cook chicken, beef, and other dishes. The house smelled like a house should smell on a holiday with whiffs of roasting meat coming from the kitchen. This serene scene quickly changed to people all dressed up coming through the door with plates of food. Two long tables were set up in the room with the heater and then piles of food were laid out. I didn’t know about this and I was still in pj attire. More relatives and children came for the gathering and all the food was good. Just as quickly as the people came, they left. We also left in the evening to the city.

December 26
Another restful sleep in the cold interior of Lilian’s apt. I had a quiet morning of repacking and reading Motoring with Mohammed. A quick city tour by car under a sunny sky, sun at last, we pass by the new mosque where Hariri is buried, the clock tower, martyr’s square and an old Latin church. With lack of time in the city, a return trip is on the list.

Arrived at the airport in plenty of time for the 2pm flight; bought two last souvenirs – a shot glass for brother Steve and a magnet for me.

Notes to remember: lots of billboards with the message, “Having Regrets? Tatoo laser removal” or ads for cigarettes, alcohol, and sexy images of men and women selling various things. Not use to seeing these larger than life images.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Rambles



Rambles of Jeddah 08-09


  • it rained three times

  • I questioned my first night in Jeddah thinking "what have I done?" "I don't like living in AC, it is too hot for me" I still don't like living in AC.

  • Carolyn, thanks for Peet's Masala Chai tea

  • the escarpment road is finally open

  • weekend escapes to Taif and Al Hada

  • love the Yemeni souq on a Thursday morning (my photo of the vendor selling fish won 2 place in a local photo contest)

  • Najran is a place to visit with its unique architecture

  • nice to have a pool again for evening swims

  • too hot for tennis or am I just a wimp

  • went to the beach twice sort of funny because the Red Sea is right here BUT beaches are not

  • Papaya is my favorite new place to feel like you are outside when you are really inside

  • a magical sunset in the Old Balad on a roof top during the call to prayer

  • Munch Bakery for a brownie fix

  • Sanwar has been my guardian angel

  • Who would have thought finding an excellent tai chi master offering classes next to the school? She also teaches Kung Fu and qi gong and this has kept me sane during some craziness

  • beautiful abayas trimmed with crochet

  • where does all the time go?

  • old friends Martin, Marwan, Jana, Carol, Pat, Michele, Ron, Wendy, Edwin, Abdulaziz, Rami, the Al Zekys, Tasheen and clan, and wonderful new friends Areej and AbdulGhani, Annette, Mimi, Ajmal, Ali, Adam, Cresta, Tehmina

  • I could write a book just on tutoring stories alone

  • Found a trust worthy hospital close by

  • One major bad cold, some sinus issues when the weather changed, and a sore hand from correcting papers again

Aleppo Photos






Ahmed with his bazuq. The entourage heading to the citadle.


Don't sneeze in the zattar please.












The covered souq and men buying bread from a road side bread stand.

Syria Part 6 - Aleppo

I Believe in Syria – Part 6

Aleppo
December 2008


She Stays Inside

She is in her twenties
She is educated
She is not married
She cooks, she cleans
She laughs and talks
She is loved and protected
I say come LuLua, walk outside with me
La she shakes her head. She stays inside.


The next destination was Aleppo with unknowns. Where to stay? What to see? Where to go? Luckily, while visiting with the American ladies in Hammah the night before, one of them had a Lonely Planet and I wrote down names of places to stay. The Tourist Hotel sounded friendly and clean and that is where I asked the taxi to take me from the bus station. It was just my style. The price was right at 500L ($11) per night, it was clean, had decent size rooms, friendly staff, and a good location if you disregard the tire and auto mechanic shops down below. I knew a little about Aleppo’s famous old covered souqs and soap but I didn’t know about their towels, textiles, and the citadel. After studying a local map of the area, I decide I could use another day here but I had to make due with the day and a half I had.

With dusk turning to night I did not venture too far. There are many alleys branching off like a prime factorization tree causing me to get turned around and lost. The key is not to panic and to keep looking for well lit alleys leading to major thoroughfares. The little of Aleppo I did see that first night I could tell Aleppo was old as dirt. This important trading hub dates back to the 3rd millennium BC and has been a flourishing city, with a unique strategic position. This position gave the city a distinctive role from the days of the Akkadian and Amorite kingdoms until modern times. “It lies on a plateau 427 m (1400 ft) high, midway between the Mediterranean Sea and the Euphrates River. The second largest city of Syria, Halab is an agricultural trading center and has factories producing carpets; silk, cotton, and wool textiles; silverware and gold ware; leather goods; and embroidery.” http://www.galenfrysinger.com/aleppo.htm (there are nice photos at this link too)

Back at the hotel I met two fascinating people. The first was my neighbor, Naya. She is Korean and a retired teacher. She lives on the road for months at a time. I am inspired by her style of travel. Naya decides on a region to explore and then her first stop is to learn the language for several weeks. She studied English in the Philippines, Arabic in Yemen, and will be learning Spanish in Columbia. Naya is loaded with electronics. Half her weight must be dedicated to plugs, adapters, converters, headphones, laptop, camera, mobile phone, and a host of wires. Because of her long journeys, her meals are in her room consisting of bread, cheese, fruit, and tea. While this seems like the smart thing to do, I would find it limiting because I like to be out with the people and to have a change of scenery. In places like Europe I would be forced to eat picnic style because of the expense.

The evening when I was chatting with her, she was in the midst of a pickle with her luggage, she arrived in Aleppo but her bag did not. Now she had to decide whether to wait it out in Aleppo or head back to Damascus and leave the country. She did not have a very good introduction to Syria which is a pity. I wonder where Naya is now.
After my visit with her, I went out for a meal. The restaurant had a TV and local men gathered around watching a soccer match. I am not sure who was playing who but there was lots of cheering going on and some men were brought to tears. I can only assume cheers of joy. The meal of soup, rice and vegetables was 340 L ($8).
Back at the hotel, Ahmed, a Kurdish archeological student, entertained me with his sense of humor, honesty, and pride. He is self taught on the bazuq, an instrument long associated with gypsy music of Lebanon and Syria and is a long-necked fretted string instrument with 2 metal strings which are played with a plectrum, offering a metallic yet Iyrical resonance, and sings Kurdish love songs. He is the night watchman and full of stories and information. He is from a small border town and accompanying him to his village would be very special. It would be a glimpse into a life seen by few. Of course marriage was discussed but now I can use the card I am too old and children are out of the question, case closed. He was still interested in showing me his village and I would be honored to do so. Time was against me on this trip but maybe another time.

Bright and early the next day, well, not bright because it was overcast and stayed that way all day, I set out to find the citadel and souqs. Just as I was approaching the citadel an entourage of police and black cars were pulling up to the main gate. Camera crews were there following the well dressed crowd up the stairs for their tour. I guess that means no tour for me. I didn’t mind because I wanted to walk around and explore more. By mid afternoon I walked through several souqs “just looking”, taking photos, and getting turned around. I did buy 2 bath towels for 600 L ($13), 4 dish towels for 200L ($4) and a nice colorful striped bag for 400 L ($9).

By this time I was getting tired and weary from the dirt and pollution from walking around. I wanted to see more of the souqs but was not in the mood. I had lunch with Ahmed and that cheered me up. I stayed close by and explored an area known for its boutique hotels and shops. Too bad the power was out so everything was dark inside. I can tell this happens often because there are generators on the sidewalks roaring away outside the finer shops. Now add noise pollution to the mix of dust and filth. I could not hear myself think. I was feeling overwhelmed with all this and sat inside the Sheraton Hotel amongst the Christmas decorations realizing it was only days away.

Naya checked out of the hotel so I guess she wanted out of Syria or at least Aleppo. A Frenchman touring on his bike checked into the hotel and it was refreshing to talk with him and Ahmed for a few hours. I packed and said farewell to Ahmed in the morning. I would like to come back to Aleppo during the spring or summer to see it in another light or at least to have more daylight. Naya, Ahmed, and the covered souqs made this a special place in my book.

December 21 was a day dedicated to transportation. First it was a 25L taxi ride to the minibus park then a 10L mini bus ride to the main bus station and a 225L bus ride to Damascus lasting 5 hours ending with 160L for 2 oranges, 2 bananas, 2 sandwiches and 1 tea for the journey. Within a matter of thirty minutes I paid the equivalent of $9.33 for all this. Leaving the bus park in Aleppo was delayed a little I suspected as people started to approach the driver asking why the delay. The young woman next to me translated best she could. It appears there is an American on board and they have to do more paper work hence the delay. Sorry about that mister. As I was getting off the bus in Damascus a bus park worker tapped me on the shoulder and said the police wanted me to contact them to say I arrived in Damascus just fine. I asked where to find a policeman; he shrugged. I never did find a policeman but I figured when I check-in back at the art gallery for a room, they would have record my arrivial. I checked in for two nights and the power was out again. Candles were in the room giving it an inviting glow.

It was time for gift buying and I spotted some lovely items at the Anat center. Anat was founded in 1988 and has three aims. 1) to provide job opportunitites to women and to improve their skills. 2) to preserve the old textile handicraft skills. 3) to present these artistic works to the world and to promote mutual understanding of different cultures. Everything in there was exquisite. I could have purchased one of everything but still made a pretty good dent with buying small things for packing ease. This organization was in the midst of a fund drive to buy a bus to get girls in rural villages to school and part of the proceeds from the sales went to this drive. There is a link below for Anat for your browsing pleasure and I think you will agree their work is unique and special.

I ended the evening at a concert. A Christmas concert was being held at a lovely old church behind the craft store. The church was packed but I managed to find a seat on the side of the church. These seats are in a row and made of wood with ornate carvings. There was a children’s choir and an adult one. The music was heavenly and being in this setting was magical. I would gaze up to the painted domes and see angles in heaven. The red light coming from candles flickering in glass lamps gave it that special glow only found in churches. I felt honored to partake in this event. Leaving the church the weather was cold and drizzly but perfect for this time of year. Christmas was only 4 days away.

My last full day in Old Damascus had three missions. One was to find highly recommended juice bars listed in local magazines, another was to buy a few more gifts, and the last was to say good-bye to Mardini, the man with a name like martini but with a d.

I left Damascus the way I came, overland with a private car. I ended up sharing a taxi with a Syrian engineer living in Germany. He asked if it was OK to make a stop to pick up his brother-in-law at his sister’s house. I was in no rush and said fine by me. We stopped at a nice looking place and I was invited in. The son was home and he was young and handsome and a professional. I eyed some photos on the wall recognizing the Syrian president with other military men. I could only assume the man of the house was important. Turns out the man we picked up was indeed well known in military circles and before Syria troops left Lebanon, this man went over to Lebanon with an escort.

The border crossing was quick and easy. The weather in Beirut was raw and drizzly. I started missing the warmth and sun of Jeddah. I would be spending Christmas in the mountains of Lebanon.




This site does an excellent job describing Arab instruments.
http://almashriq.hiof.no/lebanon/700/780/fairuz/legend/instruments.html

Arabic Music
http://almashriq.hiof.no/base/music.html#music

Anat Center
http://anat-sy.org/

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Bring on the Food











End of school means the start parties. It begins the last week of school with a farewell party for everything. A farewell party for math, for science, for advisory, for the math club, for staff leaving, for staff staying, for tai chi and each party having at least one really good cake. These cakes are works of art and a taste sensation. There is a local lady making cakes out of her villa that are amazing. They are moist with a nice cream center and covered in fondant. Goodies, a Lebanese bakery, also makes heavenly cakes. To say the least, I have been eating cake. I am caked out.

Besides the parties are farewell meals with fellow teachers and friends as we part ways for summer travels. Last night five of us had a Chinese meal and two hours later I find myself eating again with neighbors across the parking lot. Three families gathered to have mixed grill with salads and pasta dishes. Two families are from Egypt and the other from Palestine. With it being close to 11pm and already haven eaten, I nibbled on wonderful home cooked food. This meal was followed by watermelon and then topped off with Turkish coffee. English was spoken by all so we had varied conversations.

Today I was invited out to a surprise location. I thought it would be an outdoor activity but it was lunch at Papayas. This place is my kind of place. It was an indoor tropical paradise with lots of plants, fountains, a glass ceiling, and comfortable sitting. We were a party of four and lingered over lunch. On the way home arrangements were made to have an Indian meal on Friday. Better swim the rest of the day.

Syria Part 5 - Hammah





























I Believe in Syria – Part 5

Hammah
December 2008


The night was just what I imagined it to be. It was a night of stale cigarette smoke, yelling between floors, intimate talks, glaring emergency lighting, tossing and turning on an uncomfortable bed, and crying babies. The good part was, being in this part of the world, the hotel pretty much cleared out after the 5am call to prayer. I slept in peace before starting the day. I used the mini shower in my room, packed, and was ready to explore a little more before catching a taxi to the bus park.

The three hour bus ride to Hammah was restful watching the palette of browns pass by the window. The sun was out and this would be the last time I would see the sun until my return to Jeddah a week later. Feras met me at the station in his slick, black BMW with sheepskin covered seats. He picked up a friend and then we drove around Hammah having a mini tour since Hammah is rather small. We walked to the huge water wheels known as norias originally built by the Byzantines for irrigation. The omnipresent plastic bags are also here clogging the wheels. The water was filthy and it smelled. The walk around the old city didn’t take long either but it did have a small number of local artists in working studios and nicely restored khans used as restaurants. After this we drove to the surrounding hills for views. Afternoon coffee was at a roach coach on the side of the road. Maybe calling it a roach coach is a little severe because it looked clean and welcoming. The small truck converted to a coffee/tea stand with the typical offerings of Turkish coffee, espresso, Nescafe, tea or sugar.

The rest of the afternoon until midnight, when I could no longer hold my head up, I sat. There was one minor reprieve when the mom probably told Feras to offer to wash clothes and to suggest I might need a bath after a long journey. They weren’t kidding either. I had thirteen days of sweat, dirt, smoke, and BO clinging to my clothes. I am sure I was disgusting to be by. The bathing was an event in itself. The door had a tiny door within the door about shoulder level where I was to toss my stinking clothes through. The bath was Turkish style with a tiny stool next to the facets and bucket. A heater doubling as a jet engine was roaring away providing ample warmth. The soap and scrubby made me a new person. There was a bell to call the mom to bring fresh clothes and she passed over a pair of sweats and a nice heavy robe.

After the bath I returned to the sitting room to find an uncle had stopped by to join the mom, Lulu the daughter, and Mohanned another son. The uncle was a delightful man with a good sense of humor. He was not shy at all trying his English he learned years back. The rest of the evening was knitting and watching a Hindi film. They said they liked Hindi films because they were funny and they liked the singing and dancing. The movies have Arab subtitles allowing them to follow the story line. The sitting and TV room was nice and cozy with the gas heater in one corner. Leaving this room to go to the guest bedroom was a shock. It was cold in the rest of the house. More blankets were piled on the bed and I slept solid for ten hours.

The next morning from 11am to 2pm I sat again going a bit stir crazy. The idea of me going out for a walk was quickly rebutted saying it was best for me to wait for Feras to return. A delicious lunch was served at 1pm with small dishes of olives, olive oil, zatter, the good kind made in Syria of course, sheep labnah, cheese, butter, marmalade, cold stuffed eggplant called makdosh, boiled eggs, green onions, mint, bologna, and flat bread.

Feras dropped me off by the old city and I walked and walked and explored. It felt good to be out doors. I spent some time with a man at his tiny shop by the mosque inside the walled city. His name is Maheer and his family has been in the textile business for generations. He has lovely towels, table cloths and shawls and an amazing robe made from the heavy towels. I loved this robe even if it was $189. It weighed a ton. It could double as a winter overcoat it was that heavy and warm. Definitely not a thing I needed in Jeddah. We talked for a while, had tea and then I started to untangle some yarn he had. I started to braid the scraps of yarn thinking it would make nice cording for the felt sachets I make when I man going into the mosque asked what I was doing in decent English. I thought he was probably the English teacher at a nearby school. Turns out he lived in Santa Barbara for over fifteen years and returned home to Syria to take care of his parents in Hammah. His American wife came with him and he asked if I wanted to join his wife and other Amercian women living in Hammah. They were having coffee and I would be more than welcomed to talk with them.

My first response was a decline thinking he is a stranger and I don’t know him from jack. Then something made me say yes I would be more than happy to meet some other people. On the drive over to the meeting place, he told me it was hard adjusting to life in Syria. The mentality is different, the pace of life is different, and everything takes longer to do. But with him being the oldest son, it was his duty to come back and care for them. His old beat up VW bug sputtered away as I was lead into the courtyard of an old house. An American woman was living there with her Syrian husband and their sons. There was also another American woman ready to give birth any day now. The four of these ladies found themselves by accident in Hammah and have a close relationship now based on their similar situations. It was wonderful to spend an hour with them learning about their new lives. They all agreed they prefer to raise their young children here rather than in the states.

Time was slipping away and I hated to leave them but I also didn’t want to keep Feras’ family waiting. Dinner was ready when I got there and it was another tasty meal. Tears of the Sun was on TV and this time I could understand what was going on. The next morning after breakfast it was time to say good-bye. I enjoyed the family stay very much and Hammah is a place I could live with it being small enough to walk around and knowing there are nice people living in the area.

The next destination was Aleppo where I met the singing Kurd.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Last Day of School

Summer has officially started today and already the last hectic days seem long ago. The students left yesterday under a very hot sun. The 6th graders were relieved when they read “promoted to next grade”. With the joys of school ending, there was also sadness with some students moving to new locations over the summer. Tears and hugs were shared by all.

Today it was the teachers’ turn to say good-byes and to swap summer plans. The two month’s rest is well deserved and needed. I depart Saudi on June 29 and until then I have many things here in Jeddah to keep me busy. For starters, I need to finish some trip letters so I better get crackin.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Sunday

Summer is in sight! A goal before I leave on June 28th is to finish with Syria. It is a long time coming because of lack of time. The first symptom of killing one's dream is lack of time. Next school year will be different. I won't have to spend my Fridays there preparing for the week.

Part 5 is in the works so stay tuned.

Weather is getting hotter but still liveable.

Been playing the claim form chase at the hospital for insurance.

Won second place at a photo contest last night. My Yemeni guy with fish did the trick.

Syria - Part 4






















Old Damascus
December 2008


I love these kinds of days to walk about looking and stopping and trying this street or alley and then that café. My first encounter is watching a guy trying to free his bicycle from a huge shipment that was delivered the night before trapping his bike between the shipment and a street lamp. This poor fellow has to lift these huge and heavy bags of I don’t know what to get to his bike and it looks back breaking.





My first destination of the day is to the Hejaz railway station. Trains still operate from Damascus to Jordan. If I had more time I would be on the next train to Amman for an overnight. There is talk of continuing the line to its original destination of Mecca as it was envisioned long ago. Just recently in the Arab News, there was an article announcing, “Saudi and Turkey have reaffirmed their desire to restore and rebuild the historic Hejaz Railway that linked Damascus with the holy city of Madinah by a narrow-gauge rail line.” Syria and Jordan would also have to pitch in to rebuild tracks on their sides. If this project comes to fruition, and if completed as envisioned, it would connect Istanbul to Mecca. I would be first in line to buy a ticket for this historic route. As a matter of fact, the Hejaz railway is currently celebrating their centennial anniversary with the inaugural launching in 1908.




The railway station in Damascus is an easy walk down the street from the citadel. Lawrence of Arabia is by my side as the majestic station comes into view. I get goose bumps from the sight of it. I think of my cousins who are train buffs to the core knowing they would feel the same way. I also know they are going to ask all sorts of technical train questions so I seek out answers. Outside there is an old train engine and I take a picture of the engine to remember it by. It is an Arnold Jung Engine No. 120 dated 1908. This may mean something to them. Inside, the stained glass panes from above washes the floor in color. There are posters on display and an out of place book store inside. The bathrooms are surprisingly clean. A few people come and go buying tickets, probably not thinking too much of what the atmosphere was like 100 years ago in this very spot. I do, and want to be transported back to that time.


Back out in the brilliant sun I look for a place to change money. There is a bank across the street from the train station requiring two street crossings and with the traffic not much better than in Saudi, I look for people to cross with, safety in numbers as the saying goes. At the bank the wild goose chase starts. This bank does not change money, the one down the street does. With there being several streets I ask again at a travel agency. The nice agent tries to explain to me where to go but finds it easier to send the office runner to take me. He takes off in a mad dash and I semi walk run to keep up with him. Turns out the place is closed and I end up at a local hotel where men sit and smoke in a dark lobby. Mission accomplished; time to eat.

I end up at Al Arabic Restaurant, a mid range establishment with four tables and chairs and a busy clientele. Some restaurants look rather posh and expensive while others make sandwiches to take away. This one is perfect with food I can see before ordering and a place to sit and write. I am welcomed right away and have my tea and a host of plates splayed before me before I could even take out my writing materials. Everything looks appetizing and I can’t wait to dig in. There are many things to sample like cooked fava beans in swimming in Syrian olive oil which is highly regarded in these parts, a hard white cheese and a soft white cheese, apricot jam, a pile of pickles and olives, a savory cheese pastry, a hard boiled egg and pita bread. I take my time eating, writing, and thinking about where to next within the old city. I watch people come and go, mostly local men but two tourists also appear with their Lonely Planet planning their day.

With a hearty breakfast under my belt, I walk back towards the citadel to experience the covered souqs. The Al Hamideyah souq is by the citadel and the billboard with the president is right above the souq entrance. Once again, I step back in time. The place is dark and dusty and is slowly coming to life with shop keepers opening their doors and people walking around. This place gets really busy in the afternoons and evenings. A man is kneeling on white paper and is doing something. I go over to watch. He is demonstrating a classic American toy most American homes had in the 70’s – the Spiralgraph. Other men gather around him curious about how the plastic wheels makes these beautiful colorful designs. Some are intrigued and buy the small set. I look at the variety of window displays: clothes, lingerie, candy, spices, and soap. The end of this hall leads out to the plaza in front of the Grand Mosque of Damascus, also known as the Umayyad Mosque. What makes this exit/entrance so grand is the row of stalls selling foil decorations. It is a mass of glitz and shiny colors and with the sun setting them aglow, it makes for a festive welcoming to the mosque. Before visiting the mosque, I stand and watch small children chasing the pigeons and then I turn my back to see an amazing site. An old Roman arch giving hint to the grandeur of this city which played an important role in both religion and trade. They say Damascus is believed to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world and being in this spot makes me feel connected to the past and present. I would include this on my list of “23 places to see before you are 50”.

I have a bad habit of not researching a country until after I visit the place and this is one time I regret not reading about Syria before the trip. I enter the mosque and right away I am in awe of the beauty, the peace, and the holiness of the place. It is noon prayer and I sit, watch, breathe, and focus on being in the moment. I breathe in the calmness, the devotion, and the gentleness of the mosque and breathe out thoughts about the past and future. There are men, women, families, couples, pilgrims, and tourists all mingling together as in the past when Christians and Muslims lived side by side. I walk around the inner courtyard not knowing two important facts. One, the tomb of Saladin, the great Kurd leader who liberated the Arab territories from the crusaders, stands in a small garden adjoining the north wall of the mosque. Two, the mosque holds a shrine which is said to contain the head of John the Baptist. I missed both of these requiring me to return for another visit.

Not far from the mosque is the El A’zem Palace. This is a place I could settle into nicely. Plenty of rooms to host visitors, gardens to cool off in, and easy walking distance for shopping. I rest in the gardens with a guard/guide and we chat aimlessly and have a few laughs. I can tell not many people stop and listen to him describe the history of the place; another friendly soul making Damascus feel like home.

Here is a description of the palace I am borrowing this from SyriaGate.com
The Azem Palace was built, in the 18th century, as a palatial residence for Assad Pasha al-Azem, Ottoman governor of Damascus for 14 years. It is considered a great example of Damascene houses. The governor had diverted the waters of Barada to his gardens and summoned most carpenters and masons in Damascus. He also ordered for roman columns from Bosra to be brought in along with the ancient paving of Banyas.
It is divided into separate quarters, one for the kitchens, one for the haremlek, where the governor's family used to live in private, and the third was the selamlek where the governor and other male members of the family would receive guests and conduct their business. Along the south side of the selamlek is a liwan that is very deep into the wall to free it from sunlight during the day. Next to this liwan is a room where the governor would receive his guests, there is a beautiful fountain at the center of its marble floor. The selamlek is, for the most part, used as the Museum of Popular Arts and Tradition.
Each room is designed and decorated to show you some of the typical Damascene traditions, including preparation for Hajj and preparation for marriage.

I go back to visit Mardini, the soap guy, and he walks me down to his other soap shop, about ten shops away, and we sit and have tea. He tells me about his children and his soap business in Aleppo. I buy soap from him to take as gifts to families I am going to visit in the next few days.

I carouse the shops in “just looking” mode making mental notes of possible gifts to buy. I am like a kid in a candy store because I like everything. The old copper pots, the textiles, the glass, the soaps, the nuts, the furniture, the kitsch souvenirs, and the sweets. I remind myself to stick to my cardinal rule of traveling – only carry-on. A shopkeeper mentions a glassblowing studio outside the gate where I am staying. I get rough directions and set out to find this place. After seeing the glass studio at the Glass Museum in Tacoma, WA I wanted to compare the two. It is outside the gate in an industrial area. I stop several times to ask for better directions but still not sure how to get there. I turn around in defeat and walk back over to the gate. Something makes me turn around and try again. This time it is as if I know where the place is and I walk right to it. Inside the small studio two men are blowing glass to an audience of one – me. I want to take pictures but don’t want to distract the glass blowers. They are making a set of drinking glasses and they work with ease drinking tea and smoking as if they have made 1000 of these before and they probably have. The back section stores the glass inventory covered with a thick coat of dust. There is blue glass, green glass and clear glass. I buy a few small pieces and one is for my brother to add to his extensive shot glass collection.

With about thirty minutes before the sun is to set, I hop in a taxi to visit with students I teach in Jeddah. Their address was translated in Arabic and the taxi driver said he knows the location. He is probably in his late twenties and he is the first person I meet who is very angry with the government and, in particular, with the president. This guy clearly does not believe in the president because he says he has to work very hard for little money and everything is expensive. He is trying to raise a family and feels frustrated with not being able to get ahead. He is mad. He cools off while we drive around the same block several times looking for the address. Now I am the one getting mad as I try to call my friends using my mobile. It is not making out going calls. I try texting too but no response. The taxi driver does his best with the vague directions while I wait for the phone to ring. Finally it does and Tarek and Carol come out to the road to greet me.

It is lovely to visit them and their mom whom I met in Jeddah previously. I meet the last of the triplets, Tala, and the mom’s sister. The house is decorated for Christmas and the place is filled holiday excitement. They decide on a place to go out for a meal and it turns out to be Haritna, the very same place my friend Lina recommended while I was visiting with her in Beirut. As a matter of fact, I looked at the place yesterday while I was out walking around and peeked in to see a packed place with people smoking shesha, visiting and having a grand ole time. It looked like a popular place. I am excited to be going back for more than a peek this time.

The thirty minute walk over to the old city is a great way to see another area of Damascus and to see more Christmas lights. I notice that here and in Lebanon they have a huge manger scene under the tree. Let me rephrase that, they put a huge cave scene under the tree or just the cave scene minus the tree. This is the focal point and it can be quite lavish. I pass a few of these in front of churches as we walk along. The shops and cafes are trendy and are busy.

At Haritna we order food and shesha. Mounds of food arrive and and we plow through nuts, salads, pizza, dips and puff on shesha. Next comes the ice cream and I am thinking it is for the kids but Tarek tells me no because since it is cold outside they can’t eat cold food like ice cream. We relax and take in the atmosphere while Tarek decides to crawl under the table to go exploring. He comes back with a stack of ordering pads and sits down to draw picture after picture after picture. He goes back to get one for Tala and brings a magazine back for me. By the end of the meal it is decided I would join them tomorrow to go to Bosra for the day. I was planning to head to Hamma by bus but had a day to play with. That night I pack up not knowing if I would be staying with them the next night or if I would be looking for another place to stay. Either way I am ready. Sleep comes quickly under a pile of blankets on this winter night.

We have a beautiful day for Bosra. Because I did not read about Syria before coming, I wasn’t sure what the attraction is in Bosra. Turns out it was one of the first Nabatean cities in the second century B.C. When the Romans arrived the city went through a massive housing development being an important center for caravans as well as the seat for the imperial ruler. The Roman theatre is the main attraction and it is considered one of the most intact and beautiful theatres known. It is spectacular. The steps are narrow and steep and go straight up to heaven. There are wonderful views from the top. We walked through more ruins meeting the van and driver at another location and then drove the 140km back to Damascus. The adults were tired and resting while the kids came alive and sang, talked and getting antsy with being in the car most of the day.

We reached Damascus traffic and it was slow going. I still wasn’t sure what was to happen that evening until the van stopped at the Bab Toma gate and they said good-bye to me signaling me to exit the van. With the backpack strapped on I walk through the after work/school crowds thinking I would like to try a really cheap place to stay and experience that because I had three restful nights in a room costing about $48 per night and wanted to compare the two. I went back to the area where I had the great breakfast at the Al Arabic restaurant. Several hotels neighbored the restaurant and I went to the one on the end and he said it was $15 a night but had no showers anywhere. Each floor had 2 squat toilets and a sink. The rooms had sinks in them with really high faucets. Looks like a perfect mini shower to me. I take a room regretting my choice while sitting on the bed realizing how grimy the beds are. The mattress probably dates back to Nabatean times and no longer provides support and cushion like a normal mattress would. I didn’t dare sleep in the bed so I layered the blankets on top and bought a cheap sheet to place on top. From the chattering and yelling between floors I could tell this would be a long night. Walking from the room down several fights of stairs littered with old trays of food to the reception area, I observe this is not a tourist hotel but for men and families coming to visit the many mosques in the area. I still had about 5 hours to kill before bed time so I walked around looking for an internet place and maybe a movie theatre. I did find the internet café with help. After that I have juice, buy nuts for the road trip, and firm up plans with my friend Feras for our visit in Hamma. By 10pm I resign myself to the inevitable, I have to sleep at some time. I return to the hotel.


http://www.flickr.com/photos/35215585@N08/

http://www.syriagate.com/Syria/about/cities/Damascus/history.htm

http://www.syriatravel.co.uk/docs/arch_land%20marks%20of%20old%20damascus.pdf

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/syria/damascus-umayyad-mosque.htm

http://www.made-in-syria.com/busra.htm