Syria: Aleppo to Damascus

Dear All

"She is like a cat in the dark and then she is the darkness.." –Fleetwood Mac

The black blob of fabric stands idly on the road. It has no front or back though you sense a direction. You can imply some limbs behind that standing blackness and even a boob or two past an enlarged belly that is the most giving element of human form. The head and face are covered completely by a black cloth and the black garment gives the whole body, hands to feet, neck to toes, a look of a mobile curtain. Then, out of nowhere, she moves. The motion indicates a front but with feet covered completely the body seems to hover over the ground instead of striding on it. In the Arab world, the most orthodox women are wrapped in black clothing so that only her husband and family know what they look like. Another blob approaches the first blob and they meet face to face. A blabber of Arabic comes out as two friends gossip over the days events but how do they know each other? They look like every other black blob out there! Their faces are completely covered, their hands are gloved and the cut of the cloth is the same between each other. They must have magic powers. How do their kids know who to run to if they get lost? How do their husbands know which woman to bring to the car when the shopping is done? I was in Aleppo on Friday – the day black blobs and their husbands and kids pray in the mosques

Aleppo was a ghost town on Friday. Steel garage doors lock stores shut and empty streets whistle silence without the honking noise pollution of the oversize import American cars. I decided that I would tick off the things on my list as soon as possible then head to Damascus as soon as possible. First I went to the hammam.

Hammam means toilet in Arabic but in this context it means Turkish bath. The one in Aleppo is famed for being the best in Syria and though I am not one to be into massages from muscly hairy men, the sauna sounded exquisite to me then so I paid the 8USD to get in and prepared myself for the best

Walking into the hammam is like walking back in time. There is a brown decor of old chairs and tables along with a domed roof with small holes drilled into it in the pattern of a star. I was lead by this hairy man-monkey into a sauna after undressing behind a thin veil curtain. At first, the sauna seemed meaningless and barely hot but 10 minutes into sitting in the room the hot water drained from a pipe onto the floor and steam burned into the ground, heated the air and sweat flooded my eyes and skin. The heat was so intense I showered often with the hand bucket and loofah-ed occasionally to clean the dirty patches of backpacker grime off me. Then, when I was sufficiently lobstered, I was redirected by the man-ape to lie down and prepare for a washing of a lifetime. He scrubbed me down with the loofah and olive oil soap tearing at the skin and big chunks of grease from a year of sitting in my own filth fell off my body. I haven't been this clean in months and it felt good to be without all that extra weight. Then, he viciously massaged my arms and legs, torso and head but the pain was so intense I insisted he not force the massage. After a final sauna and a good rinsing I was taken out of the bathing room to relax with a drink of water. I was hypnotized by the effects of the Turkish bath so much that I barely noticed the half hour that flew by and the scented oil the masseur poured over me and rubbed into my hair. The entire experience took around an hour and a half and it was great.

After visiting another citadel which is just another pile of old rocks to me once again and with the souq closed because it was Friday and with my job completed of photographing the Commonwealth cemetery, I decided there was no reason to stay in Aleppo anymore so I jumped a bus to Damascus.

Damascus is similar to Aleppo but bigger. It has all the modern needs of a city without the Americanizing that most places have except Coke and Pepsi can still be found but imported from Saudi Arabia. I did several trips from Damascus but nothing of any special adventurous note. Bosra, a good few hours south of the Capital and almost to the Jordanian border, is as small town whose tourist attraction is the amphitheatre that had a citadel built around it. Maalula is a quiet little hillside town where Aramaic is still spoken - the original language of Jesus - but there is little to notice there as the church rich town has few speakers that you can sit and listen to. The cathedrals are nice. On the off days where I didn't do day trips, I explored the city but especially the beautiful Umayyad Masque with its amazing mosaic in a huge court yard which we snuck into to avoid the 1USD fee and the neighbouring Iranian Shitte Mosque which is absolutely magnificent with its mirror-tile walls and coloured blue vine patterns in between. This is one of the most beautiful mosques I have ever seen and it makes me want to go to Iran where the mosques are even more attractive. After getting lost in the bizarrely named Jewish Quarter and unsuccessfully changing money we went for dinner and ate hummus. it is said in Israel that "there will be peace in the Middle East when Israelis are eating hummus in Damascus". I was just doing my part.

The following day we got up very early and caught the bus to Jordan. My mom's fears of me being violated in the axis of evil are now over and I have made it to the land where Israelis can roam free without fear. I have already passed through the boring metropolis of Amman and I am now in Petra which I will write about next time. After seeing the ancient ruins of Petra, I will head to Wadi Rum to try some camping in the desert and finally I am off to my last country and the country I will call home for a while, Israel...

Take care




Oren Jalon
World Traveller

Syria: Aleppo, Hama, Palmyra and back

Dear All

Syria is a country of mistaken identity. From the outside, it looks like a menacing Arabic military monster where everyone carries a gun, yells out loud while firing and kills all foreigners without question. From the inside, it is a peaceful dusty country full of warm hospitality and over eager good intentions. Syria treats it's foreign guest with more appreciation than I have seen anywhere else. This place is jam packed with old ruins, nauseating cleanser coffee and acrobatic rotisserie chicken. Most people know the word "welcome" more than they know the words for hello. This is a country which knows Jesus.There are many Christian pilgrimage sites including a city where the locals still speak the original language of Jesus. There is the first church ever here (created around 40 AD) and Christan graffiti everywhere. This is a diverse land filled with dead cities, open antiquities trade and sheep farmers. I arrived in Aleppo with no problems.

My five hour commute from Tripoli to Aleppo was uneventful. I got to the border of Lebanon and checked out then to the border of Syria , with visa ready, and checked in. It was all very easy. I watched a landscape change from riddled old apartment complex to motley sewn fabric tents scattered between run down housing. The bus pulls into a dirty little lane with some other buses lined against the plastic strewn road. Helplessly lost, I hail a cab and ask for my hotel and got in. Unable to give the correct change of 25 Syrian Pounds (SP) with only 1000 bills in my hand, the driver gave me a free ride. It was the start of good things to come. I gave him 1000 Lebanese Pounds instead. His generosity, though without a word of English, was a pleasant breeze through the blizzard of bargaining, fighting and scamming that I have experienced from the very start of my trip. My hotel, a rock dungeon style with a rooftop dormitory. In fact, many places in Syria have wondrous rooftops that open to the temperate winter nights, gaze over the endless deserts and echo the Call to Prayer from green fluorescent tubed minarets of glorious foreboding mosques. Dorming in Syria is like well protected camping though the nights are chilly and the Japanese tend to snore a lot. I only stayed in Aleppo one night.

I forgot my favourite towel in Tripoli and though the value of the towel can be replaced, the sentiment can’t as I bought it in India . I called the hotel twice to see if a Slovenian girl who was coming to Syria could bring it to me but she was heading to Hama – a city in the centre of Syria so I needed to head there fast. I had one day in Aleppo so I decided to get to a Commonwealth cemetery to photograph the tombstones for my friend Ralph. Without any help from the hotel and none of the taxi drivers understanding where to go, I went to the tourist office to get some advice but when I reached them, they were about to set off on a tour of the tourist attractions outside the city and offered me a free tour. I hesitated. I need to get this cemetery done or I would have to return to Aleppo later in my trip. They told me that the tour would only last two hours and that there would be plenty of time to go so, with false promise in hand but free tour ahead, I went aboard.

The first place we went to was the Dead Cities which aren't really dead at all but mildly populated stone houses with roman and Christian ruins everywhere and olive trees growing in the backdrop. The road down was a long drive but the cobblestone red barriers that edged the road, the open flat desert and the Osho-phile Lebanese for company made for a great trip. I got a free English translation describing the 2000 year old rocks that used to be churches but are now just backyard playthings. We ate lunch at some bizarre located restaurant with magnificent traditional food of barbecued chicken, hummus, falafel and all the pita you can eat before the tea and locally grown, huge and hard green grapes came out. Full and satisfied, enjoying the conversation of some Osho youths trying to liberate my consciousness from its prison and engage me into a world of enlightenment, I headed back into the bus to head to St Simeon's Basilica.

These set of ruins are the remains of a church that was erected for a man who stood on a pillar and preached the word of God for 36 years never leaving the pillar until he died. The basilica was a wonderfully over arched rock pile that impressed me more than the average rock pile that I go to. The earthquake rubble that normally puts me to sleep was actually incredible aesthetically pleasing and I was impressed with the absurdity of the devotion of a people of the insanity of one man. Can you imagine if someone did this today? Preaching the world of God from the top of the CN Tower would lead to imprisonment and not to revetment. How the world has changed.

By the end of the tour, I had missed my chance to go to the cemetery so I settled into bed in the dorm, tried to ignore the Japanese guy grinding his teeth while he sleeps next to me and head out to Hama the next day.

I went to Hama with Julie – a Californian with a fantastic sense of humour. We settled into our hotel and wandered the streets of Hama to find them empty. Saturday here is a holiday though this concept seems to vary from city to city instead of by country. In Christian villages, Sunday is the day off but in more Muslim places it seems that Friday and Saturday are days to relax and pray. The empty streets did mean that we could wander the place without the classic sidewalk collisions and seeing the Norias (1600 year old waterwheels used for irrigation) could be seen by us and the other Syrian tourists. We walked to another typical citadel and then ate more chicken like we have been doing for days. It seems that the Syrians have a very limited diet of falafel, shwarma and rotisserie chicken. The last few days have been a cloudy forecast for my gastronomical weather report. It has become hard to eat on a budget and eat the same things over and over but you put it in your mouth, smile and try to enjoy. At least there is no more curry, spicy and rice!

I took several tours out of Hama . Though Hama is a nice town, it hasn’t much to offer but as a hub for the sites around the city. First we went to Afamia.

Two minibuses land 30SP later, Julie and I were in Afamia. It is a long lane way of pillars about 2km long. It takes about 20 minutes to see and, unlike Julie who was fascinated by the emptiness and destruction, I found this place more dis-interesting than usual. The pillars here were just a multiple of the pillars at Byblos or Baalbek or anywhere else I've been. Peaceful at the top and after a nice drink with a local family who did their best to welcome us, we headed back to the hotel to sleep the night and prepare for tour two.

Crac des Chevaliers is another crusader castle set on top of a mountain side. It is big, beautiful to look at from afar and seemingly impenetrable. This is the last that interested me. From the inside, it is just hollow halls and destroyed fragments of rock that need to be returned to their original home. I wandered the castle with Jamie, a Canadian from Victoria who has been on a monster tour for almost a year starting in Russia and passing through India , Pakistan and Iran to finally come here. Both of us have seen our fill of old rocks and found no interest in the place. The ride up in a semi-luxury tourist car set with a TV that televised the best tourist attractions of Syria and the 5 star hotels advertised that we could stay at, was the best part of the whole experience. We took a local bus back. One tour a day is plenty for those with no schedule and little money. The next day we went to Palmyra .

Palmyra seems to be the exception to the rule in Syria . Unlike most Syrians who are a wonderful, welcoming culture, the Syrians from Palmyra are a money thirsty mob desperate for every tourist coin they can get their hands on. From the moment you arrive in the tiny town, you are touted, cheated and lied to. They try to pull you into their store, overprice you for the simplest things and harass you endlessly. I am reminded of how many places that have had tourism have turned into cesspools of deceit as a result of needed tourist income, like Thailand and Vietnam , and now Syria is soon to follow. I am glad I am seeing this country now instead of ten years from now when the tourist industry truly messes this place up.

The city of Palmyra is small and fairly ugly. Concrete block unfinished housing fill garbage streets with children who beg for money and pens and don't hesitate to open your bag and reach in. The store owners call you in from the one main street here and the kids try to sell you postcards and yell at you when you don't. Thank god the ruins of Palmyra are so beautiful.

The ruins are a multitude of different styles, shapes and textures. The old rocks are wrinkled and bumpy from the erosion of wind and sand while the new reconstruction is smooth and uniform. There are the long line of white columns that stretch for a few kilometres which start at a large arched entrance, have an alter with four surrounding pillars in the middle and end somewhere in the horizon. Off to the west of the archway is a large amphitheatre made of more white stone which accentuates the white pink desert around and the ruins all around. We walked for hours but we arrived in time for the pick up to the tombs that need a taxi to reach – but we missed the pickup.

We negotiated a 4:30 pickup but the owner of our hotel told us that we were already too late and that he was waiting nearby but he had left. We tried to negotiate for a new taxi but the prices where ridiculous at 200 SP when for a 5km distance where most of my commutes for 4 hours from one city to the next have always been around 75SP. We finally got one for 100SP and we went to the first set of tombs that were nothing special and though we were able to climb the tomb, the view was nothing special either. Next, we went to second set of tombs that were equally unremarkable and so we went home but stopped early to see the Temple of Bel , another very old walled temple with a square building with some more pillars. We ended the day ready to leave the city. It is a shame that such a place with so much beauty and history can be tainted by a people that terrorize its customers. This place is a gem covered in feces. It was a place I could have spent days wandering and relaxing but I can't handle the people here so I left back to Aleppo where I needed to get my cemetery photos again.

After getting overpriced for the ticket from Aleppo to Homs and getting threatened once for dropping a single date seed on the man in the seat in front of me, I was glad to get back to the wonderful people of Aleppo . I arrived at 2pm on Thursday checked into a local hotel and immediately headed to the cemetery. I caught a taxi there but I realized that I was in the middle of some sort of cemetery district. I wandered asking for the cemetery then a nice Christian family with one son who speaks English directed me to the site. Though the hours were Saturday to Thursday 7:00 to 17:00 , it seems that the weekend started early for the security here. I went back to the family and asked them for help. After calling a few number with no success, the 15 year old son walked me to the commonwealth cemetery, helped me break into the place by jumping the fence whereas I got all the pictures I needed and then jumped back over. I was sweating with fear over the though that I could be imprisoned in a Syrian jail, have my pants pulled down and my secret identity discovered leaving me in the hands of Syrian guards and imprisoned terrorists to show me where I dropped the soap. Luckily, the entire mission impossible went smoothly and I found myself drinking cinnamon tea, eating jam and bread and talking about Montreal with their 20 year old son who is planning to study at Concordia next year. I came home happy with my little adventure.

The next day was set for taking a bath at the local hammam, checking out the souq or market and relaxing in the Christian quarter, Citadel and drinking lots of juice but, alas, Friday is the weekend here and little was open. The Citadel was another bore and leaves little to be discussed than more rubble, more rocks and more castle on a mountain. The hammam was an interesting experience though – but I leave that for next time. I am currently in Damascus getting ready to go to Amman in a day or two. I have no itinerary and no plan but the sooner I get to Israel the sooner I have to get to work so I am procrastinating heavily. You will hear from me soon

Be well



Oren Jalon (aka Rony for those who met me here)
World Traveller