Damascus - and more travellers to share with

Tuesday saw me confined to my hotel with a sudden, violent cold, lacking the energy to move further than the top of the lane in the morning for my customary two creamy Nescafes and in the evening for a pizza to keep up my strength. It was just as well, I reflected, crawling into bed that night, that I’d got it here and not after buying my three-day £65 ticket for Petra, and it certainly decided me against going to Palmyra on Wednesday as I’d been debating.

On Wednesday, feeling a lot better, I went again to the top of the lane for my two-coffee breakfast. There seemed to be a lot of activity this morning; a lot of people walking past carrying Syrian flags, and the noise of helicopters overhead. Later I walked down the lane to the main street and was called into the barber’s shop by my old friend for a chai.
“Where you go today?” he asked. “Today holiday – birthday of president. Some people like government, some people not.” (He had a picture of the president on his wall, but I noticed it was old, from some years ago when there were many showing in the shops around – not the case these days.)
I had a grandstand view, from his shop, of people heading off in their droves towards the square where they would soon be proclaiming their love of Bashir and their country. A couple of tanks also rolled up the street.

A streetside stall sold Syrian flags, framed photos of Bashir and tespes (muslim prayer beads) in the colours of the Syrian flag.

My barber friend confirmed everything was open and it was safe to walk abroad so, with more energy to spare than yesterday I decided to go into the old city once again, to spend time in the Omayyad mosque and visit the tomb of Salahudin (Saladdin). Everything changes – everything stays the same: the mosque is now divided by chains into two parts, separating men and women.

At first I was disappointed – then I looked harder – guess what! The women have more space. And although I saw a few women walk into the men’s area unimpeded, no men except the floor cleaner encroached on the women’s area. My feminist-self satisfied, I sat down to enjoy the tranquil beauty of this lovely old building for an hour or two, watching the flocks of Iranian and Iraqi tourists come and go.

They have a most beautiful adhan (call to payer) here. It’s sung by more than one voice; the main one calling the words and the others chiming in with echoed harmonics. They also add other lines, praising Mohammad as ‘habib allah’ – ‘beloved of god’.
While every mosque or area has its own sung version I’ve never before heard one sung by more than a single voice, or the additional words – which I wish I understood. Another reason for applying myself to learning Arabic, I guess.

Then it was off to Salahudin’s tomb, housed in a domed building in a courtyard linked to the mosque complex. Changes here, too – a notice forbidding photography. I regretfully complied and settled myself down in the corner to attempt a connection with this compassionate and noble warrior, of whom it is recorded that when he died he didn’t even leave enough money to pay for his funeral.
“Salahadin, help your people!” I asked, and heard a voice back saying “We’re working on it.” Though who the “we” are I have no idea.

In the afternoon following the rally many young people headed for the old city, still carrying their flags. Not just flags, either; many wore t-shirts in Syrian colours, superimposed with pictures of Bashir. Some had the Syrian flag painted on both cheeks, like football supporters. One guy had even made himself a funny hat in the national colours. There seemed to be a slightly festive air about the place but I noticed it was very much a young people’s thing – at least today. Maybe a holiday from school was worth celebrating?

Back at my hotel in the evening I debated going out again for a meal. I was hungry, but didn’t feel like walking too far. A new arrival, Gregois (?) from Paris, was eating a falafel sandwich so I asked him where he’d bought it. He took me down some little back alleyways, reminiscent of Yazd in Iran, to a shop which was doing a brisk trade, where the guy was doing an almost a factory production line thing of making and selling wonderful sandwiches at 30 SP (40 pence) a go; delicious and filling. Did I already say – this is the first trip on which I’ve eaten falafels in Syria?

So to Thursday – the days are already going by too fast. I invited Gregois to come with me to Sheikh Mohidun Ibn Arabi’s 13th century mosque and tomb on the lower slopes of Mount Qassiyon. What should have been a half-hour walk took us two hours, owing to my direction dyslexia. We walked too far to the left and had to head back right again, at one point being genially waved through a short stretch of a ‘military’ road when we explained where we were going.
At last we reached the mosque and the pretty little souk nearby. Gregoir was entranced. We went inside and I found things different yet again; this time both men and women went through the same door and mingled together around the tomb, which is now covered by a glass frame as well as the iron cage which prettily surrounds it. I’m sure they’d moved it forward by several metres too. No photos as I didn’t like to disturb the pilgrims there. (Ibn Arabi also has the title ‘Sheikh al Akhbar’ – the Greatest Sheikh.)
Coming back down the mountain was a straight run to our hotel – and the half-hour walk I’d promised Greg, but we were knackered after walking about 6-7 kilometres instead of the four I’d estimated in total.

A little later in walked Tatia from Georgia, who I’d met on the Syria branch of TT, the travellers’ forum – and shortly after that Jackson, who I’d met in Urfa, also walked in. We had a joyful reunion, before all three of us headed off to my now-favourite falafel shop for supper and back to the hotel for chai in the garden, talking until it was 11.00pm and time for bed.

Friday (today) dawned and, after I’d introduced Tatia and Jackson to my breakfast place and my bad coffee habit, we set off for the old city All the shops were shut but we were told it would be safe so, as they had only a couple of days here on transit visas we thought it would be interesting even if we could only see the mosque and Salahudin’s tomb.
In the event, we saw neither, as we arrived just as the call sounded to Friday prayer – the biggie in Islam. We wandered down to one of the city gates and over to Straight Street – which has been part of the city since biblical times (St Paul stayed here when he came to Damascus). There, we were pleasantly accosted by an elderly gentleman who, after some initial chit-chat, asked if we’d like to see the old Jewish Quarter.
It seemed churlish to refuse and we walked along with him as he pointed out old houses no longer lived in but still owned by Jews who’d gone to Israel and left them empty and abandoned. But we went further and further and it soon became obvious we were being ‘kidnapped’ by an unofficial tour guide, who would expect payment at the end of this tour. And so he did; and was, I think, less than happy with what we offered him. But it was more than we’d expected to give him, even as a token ‘thank you’ – so I guess we met somewhere in the middle.

We’d walked much, much further than we’d intended and had no idea where we were – but a notice for the Jabri House led us that way for drinks and a welcome seat for half an hour or so. From there it was only a short walk back to the mosque (arriving once again at prayer time, so we gave it a miss yet again) and to the ice-cream shop, which, like a beacon amongst the shuttered shops of the Souk Hamidiye, lured us in. Ummmm…

edthe sock from TT is also here. He'd planned to go to Hama today to photograph the noria (waterwheels) there but got up late so we had the pleasure of his company briefly this evening He'll go tomorrow, if he wakes up in time
Tomorrow 'abuwalad' is arriving, havng announced on the Syria branch his impending visit. he's bringing Belgian biscuits; we have a date!

When arriving in Petra last March, I too purchased a 3-day pass. I later learned at the guesthouse that a 3-day pass entitles the holder to a "free" 4th-day on the site. I confirmed this upon exiting the 3rd day. The site is big enough to easily consume 4 days of tramping! In case you were not aware!

Thanks, Sarlie. Yes, I intend to spend all four days there. I'm not a great climber and will take it slowly. Fortunately the weather is looking good, with temperatures of 22 degrees forcast.

PS - edthesock has just posted on the Syrian branch 'sticky' that Hama is 'boring'.
We did think he was a bit crazy for going there - it seems he was looking for a bit more excitement than Damascus has to offer. :>))

Thank you for posting these adventuresome and wonderful reports . . . I am jealous!

Sandy (in Denton)