Mon 12 Sep 2005
I spent most of last week on yet another trip to Syria, though at least this time it wasn’t just Damascus. Carrie and I headed to Damascus on Tuesday, because she wanted to do a radio story on hakawati- traditional Arabic storytellers. Turns out there is only one left who performs regularly (as in every weeknight), and even he is not so traditional– he reads the stories, rather than having memorized them. It was interesting, even though we couldn’t understand any of it. He performs at a cafe in the old city, and the crowd was a pretty even mix of locals and tourists– the bulk of the latter being a German tour group.
The next day, we woke early and set off for the bus station. After a maddening mix-up with the tickets and the help of a very kindly fellow with a cast on his foot and who kept trying to speak Greek with us, we were on our way to Aleppo.
Aleppo (Halab in Arabic) turned out to be truly fantastic. The souk is amazing.. more real and less shopping mall than the one in Damascus. It is also more overwhelming, and there is much more of people trying to sell you things. We wandered around, sometimes in circles, until we stopped at a very old former mental hospital, built over 600 years ago. It is being restored, and one of the student volunteers involved in the project gave us a tour. He explained the old Islamic method of caring for and rehabilitating mental patients and showed us 4 levels of treatment.. from dangerous psychotics to those nearly well. Elements of light, water, color (blue), and music were used. It was quite interesting, and really a beautiful place with courtyards and fountains. He told us what to look for when buying soap, which was also interesting.
That evening, we had a beer in the hotel bar, a place which counts among its former guests Theodore Roosevelt, Agatha Christie, and Lawrence of Arabia. The bartender was a Kurd who taught us Arabic words and gave us free arak. The bar itself was great, in a spare Communist-style sort of way.
Then we headed to the Armenian/Christian quarter, known as al-Jdeida (or “the new”, because much of it is “only” Ottoman era–15th century or so). We ate dinner in a restored Ottoman house and then walked to a restaurant which according to our guidebook, featured music on Wednesday nights. There was no music and the restaurant was empty, but the owner was there with a few of his friends, and he sat us down with some “hospitality whiskey”. Then he made a phone call. Five minutes later, an oud player sat down at our table and played and sang frenetic but mournful songs for the next few hours.
There were more adventures, and we met many more people, including the owner of a stunning boutique hotel who promised to half his rates when Ethan and I come back to visit (he said he has a weakness for Americans and Greeks). Allepines must be among the most hospitable people on earth. I can’t wait to go back.