Our journey in Syria felt almost like an experience of walking inside glass cases displayed in a museum. It's the cradle of civilization after all. The land is ancient and ruins from the passing eras are all over the place. Palmyra, Rasafa, Ugarit all carry with them the tales of a glorious past.
Even in the absence of words, Salahdin Castle, Krak des Cheveliers stood to remind us the triumph and power that they once stood for. Bosra, the best kept Roman theatre, in no less significant term, grand and formidable. Today we watched the scale of these structures in awe. We marvelled at the testimony of human strength, and the achievement of man's imagination.
Syria has some 600 human heritage sites listed under UNESCO. And the list is growing.
When in Allepo, we were shown a 2 feet high slab with some inscriptions on it. Standing at a corner in the souk, apparently it's already some 2,000 years old. People walk pass it everyday, do what you want with it, nobody cares. But hey this is Syria, there are more interesting and important older finds, said our guide Murhaf, studying for his PhD in archaeology at Allepo University.
Damascus is both old and modern, and relatively clean. The cracks and uneven ground of the Tekkiye Mosque looked as if it had once been violently shaken, almost like waves that had frozen in time. Although very little of its colour left, the fine Ottoman architecture remains beautiful. Grandeur of a distant past. Many old structures are scattered around the city and worth a visit if one can find the time. Satellite dishes are everywhere. Looking out from our bus window as we left Allepo, they looked very much like cluster of giant mushrooms growing on the flat roof tops of the city. Internet cafes are easy to find, in fact in most of the towns in Syria.
Ah, but foreigners pay a different rate.
As we traveled from South to North, the landscape changed, from long desert roads to glimpses of green pastures, valleys and mountains before descending to the Mediterranean coast. As landscape changes so are the people. Shops look more upmarket. Hair dos get better.
Muslims in some towns, such as Hama are more conservative than the others, although it is not instantly evident. Window displays in bigger towns are just as modern as any other countries (Well, not talking about Channel and Gucci here). Interestingly, colourful, fancy and sexy women's underwear are indiscreetly displayed by street vendors and on shop windows. Our men and women went ' Wahhhhhhh! ', and ' click ' away!
President Arsad's portraits are everywhere, from the trees to the hotel lobbies. He looks down, he looks up, sometimes he looks into the distant ( or future). Never smiled, always in deep thought. Portraits of his late father appeared next to his sometime. But a more relax and a much happier looking man.
Syrians are friendly people. The younger ones are especially keen to practice their English. 'Hello', 'Welcome', 'Nihao' they would greet us. Once, someone said 'Sayonara' to me. One evening we decided to chill out at the town square after a very pleasant walk over the Euphrate River. A young man approached our Mr Ng who is in his 60s, ' Mao Tze Dong! ' he asked. We are not sure if he meant ' are you from China? ' or indeed our Mr. Ng looks like Mao Tze Dong in the eye of this Syrian boy. He returned twice later asking the same question! Then a mother came over, smiled to us and propped her little daughter among the girl's in our group, took a few shots, smiled, collected her girl and left. On another evening I passed by a boy and he asked, ' Make in China ! '. ' Malaysia.' I said. Looking a little bewildered, he left. Minutes later he returned with a yoyo, showing me the print Made in China. Now I know what he meant. Tourists from the East probably, became the object of local curiousity here.
Street food are cheap, tasty and healthy. We had so many sharwarma - local wheat based pancake wrapped with chicken, tomatoes, shredded cabbage and sometimes pickled vegetable. It takes on another name with beef or lamb fillings. Baklava, all manners of nuts predominantly pistachio wrapped in filo or vermercelli like pastry are such perfect accompaniment to a cup of coffee, light and so healthy if one just think of the nuts and forget the sugar content for a moment. It is not difficult to find family business that has been operating for a few generations. They each seems to have their own specialties. My baklava came from a shop that has been going for some 200 years. Even the corner CD shop is already some 60 years old.
Syrian has a saying, 'there is always an empty space in my stomach for sweets'. Coffee and tea aIso comes with generous serving of sugar. Ice-cream made in the traditional
method are sometime a little gooey but most delightful. Fruit juices are as pure as you can get. I can easily believe the two big cups of orange juice I had in Allepo saved me from a cold. And all the Kleenex that I might have needed.
You see pancakes everywhere, in shops, streets, people buy them in stacks. They are eaten with nearly everything. The evening after we arrived in Allepo, I took a stroll round the neighbourhood. Soon I saw a man drying these pancakes over the railings on the pavement next to a busy road. They could have been his laundry! There was a gust of wind, several of the pancakes were blown away, he promptly picked them up and put them back on the railings.
One morning we went into a little cafe in Damascus for breakfast. We pointed to what the man in the next table was eating, a yellowish soup with huge broad beans and chickpeas. Pickled carrots, gherkins and radish soon arrived on a plate, followed by the soup. Then the man plonked half a dozen of unwrapped pancakes on the table. Er . . . well, the table did not look dirty. It was a lot, so we did not have to eat the last piece!
Bargaining are expected and welcomed when shopping. Free flow of sweet flower tea comes in between. You can drink till your heart content. Men greets one another with kisses on the cheeks in shops. They sometimes sit in front of their shops, on busy corridors. With a little table in between, they enjoy a drink, coffee or maybe tea. Watching the world goes by, not the slightest bothered by the passing crowd. Such cultivated state of mind. Is that Dao or zen?
What about crime in Syria? I asked our guide. Very little. They are crime of revenge, if any. They spare the enemies but punish their loved ones instead. Most drivers are courteous. They would stop to let you pass, and this is on some busy evenings in Damascus. Very little English is spoken in the streets. But those who speak the language in shops or hotels manage it very well. Hotel room numbers are sometimes in Arabic script. Upon returning one afternoon, I had to get the receptionist to find my room when we were in Tartus.
Allepo, or maybe Damascus, depends on who you ask, is the longest inhabited city in the world. Abraham in the old testament of the Bible was said to have once lived here. To do it justice, one needs a few days here. The souk is full of history and a myriad of colours. Even the structure of the ceiling is interesting! The Christian Quarter is worth half a day or more wondering round with at least a coffee break. See the many ancient structures in the city for the time that is left. And perhaps one last visit to the souk for that extra scarf, cushion cover, flower tea, pistachios . . . !
Now back in KL, eating baklava, thinking of our 14 days journey in Syria. Still try to take it all in!
