Middle East Trip: Aleppo

I figured it might take a few weeks to start getting posts up about our Middle East trip…but I certainly didn’t think it would take until mid-October!

Our trip began on the first of August.  After a night in Zurich, we met up with our friend Anjana (a teacher at ASOY) at the airport and flew to Aleppo, Syria.  Our guide for the trip, Lara (Aleppo native and another ASOY teacher), met us at the airport at 2 a.m., and we took a terrifyingly fast taxi ride to our hotel.  I should say we took the taxi to the closest point to our hotel it could go—we had to walk down a long, winding alley to get to the actual front door.  Even in the middle of the night, Aleppo made us feel like we had stepped back in time—it just felt enchanted.

The next morning we were able to get a better sense of just how beautiful our hotel was.  Called the Beit Marrash, it had once been the house of a wealthy family, and as we ate a breakfast of pita bread, cheese, cucumbers, and fresh mint in the sunny courtyard, we marveled that this was once someone’s home.

Our first day was devoted almost solely to exploring the souks, specifically the Souk al-Zarb (front entrance shown here). 

Souks are technically covered markets, but with their labyrinthine passages, they feel like a separate world. 
As we wandered past the shops, we began to realize just how lucky we were to have Lara with us (the first of many times we’d think this on the trip).  Her Arabic was handy, obviously, but since she had grown up here and shopped these souks hundreds of times, she also knew which vendors would give us the best deals on good-quality merchandise vs. which ones only sold knock-offs.

One of the first shops she took us to was her favorite prayer-bead vendor.  Prayer beads were a very common sight in all the places we visited on the trip.  They look like rosaries but without the silver spacers between every ten beads.  While many people do actually pray with them, most men also carry them as an absent-minded time-filler, sort of like a worry stone; they try to move a certain number of beads at a time around the string between their thumb and forefinger.  The beads come in all kinds of colors and materials, and most have a silver charm on the end.  My favorite was a set of jade beads, but Brian ended up buying a strand of amber ones.  When you rub them enough that they heat up a bit, they give off a faint scent of amber that’s really nice.  We spent a long time in this shop (and by shop I mean a space of about 4x4 feet), listening to the man describe piece after piece. 
The strand Brian bought was a little pricey, but the vendor let Brian carry it around with him for the rest of the day to help him decide and then return to pay later.  We were amazed that he trusted us like this, but it did seal the deal.  As Lara explained, these guys have customer service in their blood—most of them are from generations of salesmen.

Anjana and I went a little nuts over the scarves (impeccably-dressed Lara knew a lot of good scarf shops), but with all the beautiful silk it was hard not to! 
At one shop that sold camel-hair scarves (not as soft as Peruvian alpaca, Emily J), the owner insisted that we all have some tea while we made our choices. 
This was the first of many such offers on our trip, and we couldn’t get over how kind everyone was.  On the one hand, it just seemed like good business, but Lara told us it didn’t really have anything to do with our buying anything.  Hospitality is valued extremely highly in Syria (especially Aleppo), and it’s a matter of pride to be able to offer guests a drink.  Lara said when she’s home, she often goes to her favorite shops in the souk just for tea and a chat (sometimes two or three hours).  Time just moves a little more slowly, and everyone has time for conversation.  As you can imagine, it was very easy to get used to.

We continued exploring the souks for the rest of the afternoon, never tiring of all the sights and smells. 

We bought some silver jewelry, drank a lot more tea, tried to stay out of the way of carts full of figs, pistachios and fresh bread, and managed to follow all the twists and turns back to the main route and out again.

By this time, we were really hungry, so we went for “lunch” (meals are served very late here—lunch was at 6:00 p.m.!) at Lara’s parents’ apartment.  Her mom is an incredible cook, and she’d spent all day preparing some traditional dishes: rolled grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat; rice with chicken and almonds; and salad with fresh mint, cucumber, lemon juice, and other herbs.  When we finally convinced Lara’s mom we were full (she only spoke Arabic, so there were a lot of entertaining gestures from both parties), she brought out heaping plates of peaches, apples, and melon for dessert.  She also served us our first Turkish coffee, to which we quickly became addicted. 
It’s very strong, so it’s served in small cups, and almost everyone takes sugar.

We had a lovely visit with Lara’s parents and then went out for some late drinks in the Christian section of town, where the bars and nightclubs are.  We sat at a sidewalk café and tried hookahs for the first time (or arguileh as they’re called in Syria).  Smoking these is an important part of any social occasion here, but I was a little nervous since I hate cigarettes.  It turns out (as anyone who’s tried them can attest) that they’re not even remotely alike.  Hookahs are just flavored tobacco that you puff on, and they’re actually really nice.  We tried two kinds—mint and strawberry—and enjoyed Lara’s explanation of all the rules about how to hold the mouthpiece, etc. 

Our first stop the next day was the shop of Lara’s favorite carpet salesman, Yehya.  This was not in the souk and was much bigger than the places we’d been the day before.  We spent over two hours watching Yehya and his assistants roll out one wool carpet after another, telling us the history of each. 
With a visit this long, tea was, of course, involved. 
Yehya explained the difference between designs from Bedouins, Turkmens, Russians, Iranians, and others, as well as what each carpet was dyed with, how old they were, what the designs symbolized, and so on.  It was fascinating! 
Brian and I had no intention of buying anything when we got there (carpets are expensive!), but after two hours of tea and stories, our self-control was pretty much shot…we ended up buying two small ones. 
The blue dye is from eggplants, the red from pomegranates, and the black from henna—they’re just beautiful!  We didn’t want to mess with customs in Cameroon, so we just shipped them back to Iowa for the time being, but we had a great time picturing them in our someday house.   

After all the shopping during the previous day and a half, Brian was ready for some castles, so we spent the afternoon exploring the Aleppo citadel.  It’s right in the middle of town and is quite an imposing structure. 
There were narrow windows for the archers… 
lots of amazing architectural designs… 
domed baths… 
dungeons… 
and an amphitheater. 
Aleppo’s annual music festival is held in the amphitheater, and Lara said it’s absolutely gorgeous all lit up at night.

It was sweltering in the midday heat, so we took shelter in some shade at one of the highest points in the citadel, and drank ice water while we looked out over the amazing view of the city. 

Later in the afternoon, we visited the oldest mosque in Aleppo (and one of the oldest in all of Syria), Al-Jamaa al-Kebir, also known simply as the Great Mosque. 
Everyone has to take off their shoes upon entering, and visiting women are required to rent abeyyas to cover our arms, legs, and hair.  We were perfectly happy to respect this custom, but while the Muslim women (in their own clothes) looked modest and composed, we ended up looking like lost members of an elfin choir.  Oh well—we tried! 
The mosque was beautiful, especially the marble courtyard. 
The men pray on one side and the women on the other, so we had to split off from Brian.  He took this picture of the men’s prayer hall; the women’s area was similar, and both felt very peaceful and contemplative. 

The highlight of our visit to Aleppo was a completely spontaneous event.  We were poking around the copper souk after leaving the mosque, and we got turned around.  There was a group of six or so men drinking tea outside one of their shops, and Lara asked them for directions back to our hotel.  Before we knew it, they’d invited us to sit down with them and share their tea. 
We talked back and forth for a while (using Lara as a translator) mostly about how much we liked Aleppo and how much they liked Obama.  J 

As we were about to leave, one man, Jusef, asked if we’d make a quick (not really possible in Syria) visit to his home to meet his family.  We agreed, and after following him down several alleys… 

…went up to his rooftop. 
His wife brought us fresh orange juice and Turkish coffee… 
and we spent the next several hours chatting with Jusef, his father (Robbir), brother (Ali) and all the young kids in the family (we met his wife and older daughters, but they stayed downstairs). 
Sitting there in the cool evening air, talking and laughing with this family was an absolutely unbelievable experience.  We were amazed by the hospitality in all three countries we visited on our trip, but Syria, and Aleppo in particular, impressed us the most.  Everyone was so kind!  Before we left, Jusef showed us some of his most prized photographs, including this one of his father carrying a stack of lumber when he was much younger. 
One moment on the rooftop really stayed with me.  We were talking in broken key words with Ali and Robbir.  They said they didn’t like Bush because he tried to make everyone believe that Syrians were evil people, but Obama seems better because he treats them with respect.  As we leaned on the ledge of the roof, looking out over the other houses, we remained quiet for a few minutes and just watched the pigeons fly overhead in the dimming light.  Finally, Ali shook his head sadly and then said, “Salaam,” the word for peace, and kissed his fingertips with his eyes closed, as if that were the only thing that mattered in the whole world.  I just wished I could have the moment on video to show certain politicians who try to convince people that Middle Easterners are all angry mobs, rather than individual human beings.  These men just wanted to live free from violence and despair, so they could focus on their friends, families, and jobs.  It doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.

After saying our goodbyes and thanking Jusef and his family again for all their generosity, we walked through the dark streets to a restaurant called Hareer for a late dinner (10:00).  We ordered small plates of all kinds of different Syrian dishes to share, including (and no promises on spelling) hummus, tabbouleh, a hummus-like dish made of eggplant, garlic cream (an Aleppo specialty), kibbeh (pulverized raw meat mixed with bulgar wheat and spices—actually delicious), some sort of tenderloin that you paired with the garlic cream, pita bread, and something that looked like a mini quesadilla but tasted much more interesting.  We sat out on the restaurant’s rooftop (are you noticing a trend here?) until almost midnight, enjoying the live music and cool breeze.  It was an incredible end to our Aleppo visit, and we couldn’t believe it was only the first stop of our trip.