Damascus

For me, I'll remember the wave of smells, from the smell of trash, to the cinnamon and perfume in the markets, cardamon in the street coffee, jasmine growing on the walls of the old city of Damascus, the smell of the Lebanese mint in the tea at my new friend's house, and the smell of fresh baked pastries as I walk by a tiny shop.
But all my senses have been exercised in the last week it seems.
In Turkey, a cup of tea would find you, and food was everywhere- literally, it seemed people were running tea to each other all the time- in parks, on the street; and a pastry shop or restaurant was never more than a few feet away. In the Syrian cities I've been in, food isn't everywhere, but once you spend a little time somewhere you start to hit the right parts of town, and bakeries, cafes, falafel stands and restaurants appear.
Like the Damascus houses hidden behind huge stone walls, you have to find things here, they don't find you.
But that doesn't go for the people, they find you, and most times help you find what you're looking for, or show you something you never would have found by yourself. I leave tomorrow for Jordan, and didn't spend much time here, but I'm pretty sure the people of Syria and experiences I've had here will bring me back.


This incredibly nice Kurdish man, Yacine, invited me back to his apartment for tea and to play music. He wanted nothing but to hang out, learn a little from somebody from a different country, and show hospitality. We had great talks and had fun jammin'. I'm sure, as he was hanging in the souq where many tourists are, that he works that angle, but he didn't with me. It was a great experience. He is very friendly and he showed me a local side of Damascus.



















Yacine playing the baglama, or Tambur as he said it was called in Kurdish.













And I got to play as well. Incredible, as finding this instrument was one of my goals of the trip.













Wool merchant.













The Umayyad mosque, a very important holy site and place of pilgrimage for Muslims from around the world.













In the amazing spice souq. It is one of the most exotic smelling places I've been, or smelled rather. But I was taught a lesson when I asked what one mysterious brown powder was. He said- nescafe.



















Good God- a Koran lesson.













A Damascene school bus.













Another good view into the old city.













I'm payin' the fuul again.













Bullet holes from French fighters planes after the declared independence of Syria and the uprising of the local population. France was sore at being told to leave and killed a bunch of people. I love history.



















Falafel is king here, love it.













And the pastries, so good. These were filled with a fig or date concoction.













Everyday people.













View from a nice garden towards the old city.













A Damascene news stand.













Apartment courtyard in the old city.



















Incredible hot apple turnover. You get a plate full, down it standing up and give him back the plate. That's my style.













Abu Shady. The last storyteller of Damascus- It used to be a very popular pastime in the coffee shops of Ottoman times. He recounts legendary stories at night, with the help of a sword slap or yelling. It's funny and entertaining, even if you don't know what he's saying.

Abu Shady- Storyteller of Damascus from Jason Williams on Vimeo.