Look, we are not terrorists! - Syria Travel Story
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Title: Look, we are not terrorists!
Website: http://www.lalalalinder.nl
... and so lalalalinder found herself on the road again. I arrived in a dark Damascus late Tuesday night. I had made a reservation at thé backpackers hotel in Damascus, but unfortunately it had no room available. It had a double room though (= twice as expensive) with the shower on the other side of the hotel. So you sigh and you pay, what else can you do? I didn’t see any other backpackers and as it was 10pm already, I was afraid to go out - with or without my fake wedding band. So off to bed, hoping I didn’t have to pee. Fortunately, by now I know that the world in a foreign country looks completely different in the morning.
[pause for dramatic effect]
I woke up and the sun was shining through the shutters. I descended to the beautiful courtyard where lemon trees provided shade over breakfast. I starting chatting to an English guy who knew an Aussie and so I immediately found myself with friends. That’s not so hard, because there are very few (Western) tourists so everybody talks to each other. The Australian guy is going to study here for four months at the University of Damascus and his day activity was to register there. What better way of getting to know a country than through its university? The uni looks nothing like the East Indian House (my building at my university) - large beige buildings with long white corridors and posters of the President on the wall. The students are diverse: most girls wear a headscarf (not niqaabs, which you barely see), but there are also some with uncovered hair, heels and layers of makeup (in this sense it does resemble my uni a bit). The male variant of the 'western' style is tight pants, open shirt with quite a lot of chest hair pouring out, and tightly combed back shiny hair protuberant with gel. We were immediately approached by someone who wanted to help us. Syrians are senselessly hospitable. Everyone welcomes you, everybody wishes you peace and everyone finds it great that you're here. Our new friend offered us coffee and invited us to his engagement party next week. I was busy taking photos when a guy pulled me by the sleeve. If I could please take a picture of him and his friend to show the people back home that Syrians are not terrorists!
People on the streets stare at me, but that's okay because staring’s all they do (a few boys secretly took pictures of me – I’d say: have fun!). The boys who work in the hotel respectfully look at the ground when I pass - a strange experience because as a non-Muslim you read that as ignoring and hence disrespectful. Men not only kiss each other, they also say hello with a few small kisses and then start holding hands smiling. One of my new friends has a 70s mustache and on the street, a male passer-by called to him: "sexy mustache my friend!" Again: different gender codes here. Nobody’s hassling you, sometimes a vendor will offer you his fare, but you say thank you politely, he’ll only shout back "welcome to Damascus!”. I love it here!
Damascus is beautiful, especially the old city is delightful. You can easily imagine what the shops must have looked like in the times of the Romans, or the crusaders, or the Ottomans or whatever. It also seems as if they still sell the same stuff: wood, rugs, nuts. Here, you also see that remarkable clustering of shops that I encounter everywhere in the non-first World: all nuts sellers are located with the other nuts sellers, all waterpipe vendors with waterpipe vendors. Come on guys, diversify, find the gap in the market! I soon found my way to the Christian Quarter, where the houses are richly decorated with lights forming sleigh ride shapes. What I was doing there? In the Christian Quarter, so you know, alcohol flows freely and loyal readers know that lalalalinder really likes her beer ... (I was worried this trip was going to be a dry one…)
I wish you much Salaam!
PS Facebook is banned here - really! It’s still a dictatorship you know!
Website: http://www.lalalalinder.nl
... and so lalalalinder found herself on the road again. I arrived in a dark Damascus late Tuesday night. I had made a reservation at thé backpackers hotel in Damascus, but unfortunately it had no room available. It had a double room though (= twice as expensive) with the shower on the other side of the hotel. So you sigh and you pay, what else can you do? I didn’t see any other backpackers and as it was 10pm already, I was afraid to go out - with or without my fake wedding band. So off to bed, hoping I didn’t have to pee. Fortunately, by now I know that the world in a foreign country looks completely different in the morning.
[pause for dramatic effect]
I woke up and the sun was shining through the shutters. I descended to the beautiful courtyard where lemon trees provided shade over breakfast. I starting chatting to an English guy who knew an Aussie and so I immediately found myself with friends. That’s not so hard, because there are very few (Western) tourists so everybody talks to each other. The Australian guy is going to study here for four months at the University of Damascus and his day activity was to register there. What better way of getting to know a country than through its university? The uni looks nothing like the East Indian House (my building at my university) - large beige buildings with long white corridors and posters of the President on the wall. The students are diverse: most girls wear a headscarf (not niqaabs, which you barely see), but there are also some with uncovered hair, heels and layers of makeup (in this sense it does resemble my uni a bit). The male variant of the 'western' style is tight pants, open shirt with quite a lot of chest hair pouring out, and tightly combed back shiny hair protuberant with gel. We were immediately approached by someone who wanted to help us. Syrians are senselessly hospitable. Everyone welcomes you, everybody wishes you peace and everyone finds it great that you're here. Our new friend offered us coffee and invited us to his engagement party next week. I was busy taking photos when a guy pulled me by the sleeve. If I could please take a picture of him and his friend to show the people back home that Syrians are not terrorists!
People on the streets stare at me, but that's okay because staring’s all they do (a few boys secretly took pictures of me – I’d say: have fun!). The boys who work in the hotel respectfully look at the ground when I pass - a strange experience because as a non-Muslim you read that as ignoring and hence disrespectful. Men not only kiss each other, they also say hello with a few small kisses and then start holding hands smiling. One of my new friends has a 70s mustache and on the street, a male passer-by called to him: "sexy mustache my friend!" Again: different gender codes here. Nobody’s hassling you, sometimes a vendor will offer you his fare, but you say thank you politely, he’ll only shout back "welcome to Damascus!”. I love it here!
Damascus is beautiful, especially the old city is delightful. You can easily imagine what the shops must have looked like in the times of the Romans, or the crusaders, or the Ottomans or whatever. It also seems as if they still sell the same stuff: wood, rugs, nuts. Here, you also see that remarkable clustering of shops that I encounter everywhere in the non-first World: all nuts sellers are located with the other nuts sellers, all waterpipe vendors with waterpipe vendors. Come on guys, diversify, find the gap in the market! I soon found my way to the Christian Quarter, where the houses are richly decorated with lights forming sleigh ride shapes. What I was doing there? In the Christian Quarter, so you know, alcohol flows freely and loyal readers know that lalalalinder really likes her beer ... (I was worried this trip was going to be a dry one…)
I wish you much Salaam!
PS Facebook is banned here - really! It’s still a dictatorship you know!
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