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