Dimashq
Every foreigner and English speaking Syrian we have spoken with assures us that we can stay up to 30 days on our 15 day visa without a problem. But then again, we also heard we could buy a visa at the Turkish border...
Officially, the US state dept website says we should register at the immigration office before the 15th day, so we hightailed our way up to Dimashq (Damascus). The capital city spreads out into smaller cities and suburbs for many km, heavy with traffic on the condensed highway, so as we approached in the early evening darkness we decided to catch a lift in. Very quickly a white pickup pulled over, a man and two small boys in the front seat. We loaded our bikes and squished in, not knowing where to go. Khalil, the driver, asked if we have a hotel or friends and when we said no he invited us to his house. Al Hamdulilah!
Khalil (middle) and his folks, takin' in a stranger (or two)
Chris and I ended up staying a few days with Khalil and his big family-- 9 siblings and their parents share 3 homes inside a compound with a garden. The 7 men, their wives, and numerous young children live together; their 2 married sisters live at their husbands' homes but visit regularly. This also happens to be the week of Eid, so there is a constant parade of friends and extended family members coming to drink tea and visit at all hours- quite a beehive!
Relaxing with hookah in the garden
All sorts of Eid sweets for guests; cookies, baklava, fruit, dates, birds' nests... paradise for a sweet tooth
We spent an afternoon touring the capital's Old Town, first stopping at the immigration office, which was closed, then headed to a large Ottoman mosque and nearby glass blowing studio.
Dripping glass entryway
Many frighteningly squeaky swingsets appear in the neighborhoods during Eid
To get into the Old Town, we walked through the Souq al-Hamidiyya, a long bustling cooridor of shops and vendors. The interior resembles an old French train station, lacking any arabesque decor, and the merchandise is almost exclusively cheap Chinese factory junk. Definitely not as cool as Aleppo's winding souk... but it opens with fanfare under the pillars of The Western Gate that once led to the Temple of Jupiter. The 3rd century BC Roman temple was overtaken when Constantine declared Christianity the Roman empire's official religion.
Grand suq of Damascus
Exiting the suq under the 3 pillars bab (gate) at the Roman temple
The temple became a basilica of St. John the Baptist and was later partially converted to a mosque when Muslims invaded Damascus in the 6th century. Within 70 years the Umayyad caliphate forced out the Christians and invested a fortune building the most grand mosque in the world, emblazoned with beautiful mosaics, inlaid with precious stones and gold, and hundreds of lamps. The Umayyid Mosque was the center of the Holy Islamic world.
Mosaics in the courtyard of the Grand Damascus Mosque
At all times the mosque is crammed with pilgrims, locals, and tourists, hoping to absorb some of the spot's rich religious history. Being a non-Muslim, I was bitterly forced to don a hooded cloak, a more extreme (and uncomfortable) parameter than I am used to from Turkey's camiis.
Women praying inside the Grand Mosque
Men worshipping in the Great Mosque's courtyard
Coincidentally we ran into Maria, the French girl we spent time in Gaziantep with while waiting for our visas! She joined us as we continued throughout the city and around the citadel, then we all went to a cafe along an antiquated, quiet street to smoke arghila and sip tea.
Argile time!
Courtyard entrance of the argile cafe
Grabbing some streets sweets with Khalil, kuneyf and helawa
The street was lined with run down market stalls, mostly closed for Eid, but still harboring several olive or cheese or fruit shops, as well as live sheep. Several worn, wooden Ottoman-style nooks hover over the alley, giving the impression that at any given moment they might collapse.
Everyone went home for Eid!
Beloved kaway, coffee roasted with caraway a la Syria
Alleys of the old quarter
The next day we expected to leave, give up on the visas and simply bike down to Jordan's border. However, a young English-speaking cousin came by, and spent the afternoon helping us search for info online (full of Americans reporting no problem!), and decided to go back to the immigration office for confirmation. We basically sat around talking and eating all day, constantly presented with tea (mine bidun seker!) and nuts or fruits.
Chris savoring sweet rice pudding
The family even took us out to Barada Gorge, a valley northeast of Dimashq where their daughter lives. We explored some of the surrounding mountains with the men, including an amazing water tunnel worn alongside the mountains. They say the Romans helped carved this aquaduct into the rockface, which carried water all the way to Palmyra, several hundred km away. Hard to believe but if it's true that's quite impressive.
Barada Gorge Roman carved mountain aquaduct
Chris and the menfolk skirting the waterway
We ate more delicious food with the family; I always eat with the men and boys, and rarely ever see the women who stay in the kitchen or back rooms. My favorite Syrian food is fhoul: enormous beans that are cooked any number of ways. Hopefully when we come back I can ask Bishera, their mother, or the other women to show me how to cook it.
Syrian graves near Barada Gorge, decorated with bushels of greenery
Family crowd at the Barada Gorge
When we returned to the immigration office the men upstairs told us firmly mafi mushqala-- we can stay up to 30 days despite what our stamps say. Mumtaz! After all that worrying we were free to explore the rest of the country.
Women and children sit on the roof, with a better view of the moon
Bishira and Abu Khalil with 2 of their many, many grandkids
We said goodbye to the family, though promised to stop by on our way back through Damascus. Khalil drove us again in his truck to the edge of town where we started the ride north, heading to Mar Musa.
Every foreigner and English speaking Syrian we have spoken with assures us that we can stay up to 30 days on our 15 day visa without a problem. But then again, we also heard we could buy a visa at the Turkish border...
Officially, the US state dept website says we should register at the immigration office before the 15th day, so we hightailed our way up to Dimashq (Damascus). The capital city spreads out into smaller cities and suburbs for many km, heavy with traffic on the condensed highway, so as we approached in the early evening darkness we decided to catch a lift in. Very quickly a white pickup pulled over, a man and two small boys in the front seat. We loaded our bikes and squished in, not knowing where to go. Khalil, the driver, asked if we have a hotel or friends and when we said no he invited us to his house. Al Hamdulilah!
Khalil (middle) and his folks, takin' in a stranger (or two)
Chris and I ended up staying a few days with Khalil and his big family-- 9 siblings and their parents share 3 homes inside a compound with a garden. The 7 men, their wives, and numerous young children live together; their 2 married sisters live at their husbands' homes but visit regularly. This also happens to be the week of Eid, so there is a constant parade of friends and extended family members coming to drink tea and visit at all hours- quite a beehive!
Relaxing with hookah in the garden
All sorts of Eid sweets for guests; cookies, baklava, fruit, dates, birds' nests... paradise for a sweet tooth
We spent an afternoon touring the capital's Old Town, first stopping at the immigration office, which was closed, then headed to a large Ottoman mosque and nearby glass blowing studio.
Dripping glass entryway
Many frighteningly squeaky swingsets appear in the neighborhoods during Eid
To get into the Old Town, we walked through the Souq al-Hamidiyya, a long bustling cooridor of shops and vendors. The interior resembles an old French train station, lacking any arabesque decor, and the merchandise is almost exclusively cheap Chinese factory junk. Definitely not as cool as Aleppo's winding souk... but it opens with fanfare under the pillars of The Western Gate that once led to the Temple of Jupiter. The 3rd century BC Roman temple was overtaken when Constantine declared Christianity the Roman empire's official religion.
Grand suq of Damascus
Exiting the suq under the 3 pillars bab (gate) at the Roman temple
The temple became a basilica of St. John the Baptist and was later partially converted to a mosque when Muslims invaded Damascus in the 6th century. Within 70 years the Umayyad caliphate forced out the Christians and invested a fortune building the most grand mosque in the world, emblazoned with beautiful mosaics, inlaid with precious stones and gold, and hundreds of lamps. The Umayyid Mosque was the center of the Holy Islamic world.
Mosaics in the courtyard of the Grand Damascus Mosque
At all times the mosque is crammed with pilgrims, locals, and tourists, hoping to absorb some of the spot's rich religious history. Being a non-Muslim, I was bitterly forced to don a hooded cloak, a more extreme (and uncomfortable) parameter than I am used to from Turkey's camiis.
Women praying inside the Grand Mosque
Men worshipping in the Great Mosque's courtyard
Coincidentally we ran into Maria, the French girl we spent time in Gaziantep with while waiting for our visas! She joined us as we continued throughout the city and around the citadel, then we all went to a cafe along an antiquated, quiet street to smoke arghila and sip tea.
Argile time!
Courtyard entrance of the argile cafe
Grabbing some streets sweets with Khalil, kuneyf and helawa
The street was lined with run down market stalls, mostly closed for Eid, but still harboring several olive or cheese or fruit shops, as well as live sheep. Several worn, wooden Ottoman-style nooks hover over the alley, giving the impression that at any given moment they might collapse.
Everyone went home for Eid!
Beloved kaway, coffee roasted with caraway a la Syria
Alleys of the old quarter
The next day we expected to leave, give up on the visas and simply bike down to Jordan's border. However, a young English-speaking cousin came by, and spent the afternoon helping us search for info online (full of Americans reporting no problem!), and decided to go back to the immigration office for confirmation. We basically sat around talking and eating all day, constantly presented with tea (mine bidun seker!) and nuts or fruits.
Although we could barely communicate with the family I feel like we really got to know them, at least having memorized everyone's name and place among the family tree (which chris illustrated, caracatures and all).
Chris savoring sweet rice pudding
The family even took us out to Barada Gorge, a valley northeast of Dimashq where their daughter lives. We explored some of the surrounding mountains with the men, including an amazing water tunnel worn alongside the mountains. They say the Romans helped carved this aquaduct into the rockface, which carried water all the way to Palmyra, several hundred km away. Hard to believe but if it's true that's quite impressive.
Barada Gorge Roman carved mountain aquaduct
Chris and the menfolk skirting the waterway
We ate more delicious food with the family; I always eat with the men and boys, and rarely ever see the women who stay in the kitchen or back rooms. My favorite Syrian food is fhoul: enormous beans that are cooked any number of ways. Hopefully when we come back I can ask Bishera, their mother, or the other women to show me how to cook it.
Syrian graves near Barada Gorge, decorated with bushels of greenery
Family crowd at the Barada Gorge
When we returned to the immigration office the men upstairs told us firmly mafi mushqala-- we can stay up to 30 days despite what our stamps say. Mumtaz! After all that worrying we were free to explore the rest of the country.
Women and children sit on the roof, with a better view of the moon
Bishira and Abu Khalil with 2 of their many, many grandkids
We said goodbye to the family, though promised to stop by on our way back through Damascus. Khalil drove us again in his truck to the edge of town where we started the ride north, heading to Mar Musa.
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