You Look for Moon? I Get for You.

Damascus, Syria


-Vanilla (beans)? The vendor nods his head but leads me to a neighbouring shop. Here I can get the beans.
-Do you have bulgur?
-?
- You know, the stuff that you put in tabbouleh...
-?
- You know... tabbouleh... You put tomato...
He nods.
-...parsley...
He nods.
-... lemon... and...
-Ah! His face brightens up as he gives me a broad smile.
-I know, he says and almost takes my hand to lead me to another shop. There he talks to the vendor then asks me how much I want.
Only a handful, I show him and he talks back to the vendor.
It's too small a quantity and the vendor does not want to open a bag for me, so "my friend" takes me next door where he negociates again with the salesman. This man is happy to serve me even though he has to open a bag for me.

-You look for moon? I get for you, tells me "my friend" while I'm waiting. And he smiles.


How not to fall in love if the moon is not too much to ask for?

Damascus is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. The countless mosques and minarets, fountain courtyards and bazaars, street vendors and coffeehouses all contribute to the magic of this city. You feel, you know you are in one of the most important landmarks of the Orient simply by breathing in the aroma of spices, by listening to the calls for prayers from the top of the minarets, by tasting the street food or visiting the markets and bazaars and by observing the details of the architecture.

With its warren of narrow lanes and dark vaulted passages, its old little houses with their wooden balconies sometimes leaning dangerously on one side and the aroma of spices, fresh coffee and baked bread in the air the old city of Damascus is impossible not to charm you. There are still numerous small workshops dusty and dim where old men are busy fixing an old stove or working on some marvellous inlaid furniture piece. In many small coffeehouses locals perform the ritual of smoking their waterpipes, their rosaries hanging on the arms or back of the chair meanwhile. And then the small bakeries and cake shops where you can buy delicious cakes and cookies, puffy cheese and chocolate croissants or simply the local "pizza" : flatbread with za'atar (thyme, sesame and olive oil), cheese or other spreads on top. Hot, crispy and tasty.

It wasn't love at first sight. It was rather a slow process of discovering and getting enchanted. In the end saying good-bye to Damascus was hard.

I wandered the narrow streets of the old city dozens and dozens of times. I established a ritual and enjoyed every single day there. I also found myself attracted to the Great Umayyad Mosque like filing by a magnet. A huge human magnet. Regardless where I wanted to go I invariably found myself back at the mosque or in its close vicinity.

My daily ritual started there in front of the mosque way before the shops and bazaar opened. We were a few in the square: the old man with his motorbike feeding the pigeons, the half dozen men watching this show and relaxing while sipping a tea. Then there was the old man selling tea close to the mosque gate. He would come around 6-6:30 in the morning pushing his bike which served as his tea stall. In 2 baskets installed on the bike he carried a few thermos bottles with hot water, a box with tea bags, a jar with sugar and a jar with instant coffee. He would stand there for about 2 hours selling at most 2 dozen cups of tea or coffee I figured. He was very nice.
Every morning I would first walk to my favorite baker - the one who was the first person to give me a smile on my first morning in Damascus - and buy 2 cheese croissants. Then I would walk back to the square in front of the Great Mosque and I would get a tea from the old man. Then I would sit down somewhere on the pavement and enjoy tea and croissant while watching the people and pigeons. Sometime later I would get a second tea.
In the early morning hours the square was empty and peaceful. There were few people passing on their way to other places, sometimes boys on their way to school. The area became livelier after 8am. The square was being swept and washed, the entrance to the mosque was also swept and mopped, a few cars arrived and parked in the square. The vendors were coming and preparing to open their shops in the bazaar. There were also a lot more people now coming to feed and watch the pigeons.
By 9 am the old man with the motor bike packed his stuff and left, the old man selling tea long gone by now. Soon the square was full with parked cars but also crowded with more and more people. Groups of Iranians who had arrived by bus in the morning beleaguered the square waiting for the mosque to open. Among these the number of Western tourists started to increase slowly.
The mosque opened its gates only at 10:15am. By then the square was packed with people and a fantastic place to sit and watch them. And I greatly enjoyed doing just this: watching.
For the rest of the day I would simply get lost in the old labyrinth discovering new details and angles, new corners and spots that fascinated me with their simplicity and authenticity. My obsession with contrasts and play of light and shadow grew stronger here. Whenever the muezzine's call for prayer started I had to stop and listen as if under a spell. I loved the melancholic chanting sound of it and I certainly surprised many people with the way I sometimes froze on the spot and listened. A couple of times I found myself leaning against the Great Mosque's gate and listening. I felt carried away above all the material details of the city and to a dimension of mysterious longing and yet deep inner peace. I can't explain it, and I can't also pretend I felt that everywhere. It was maybe the extraordinary combination of the very atmospheric city and the sublime voice of the muezzine.


Some more on Damascus ...

The inner courtyards of the old Damascene houses are lovely oasis of beauty and peacefulness often only a wall away from the busy bazaar. They are a treat for your senses. The delicate fragrance of jasmine is filling the air, the small center fountain with its trickling water sound is inviting you to relax and meditate. And then there are all the architectural details which delight your eyes: fabulously painted wooden ceilings, marble inlays or exquisite inlays of coloured stones around window frames and doors on top of the traditional black and white striped walls. Jasmine shrubs, orange trees and other plants contribute to this special atmosphere, and sometimes birds come into the picture as well. Finding your way to these places is worth all the effort, especially if you dare reward yourself with a fine dining experience in those courtyards and houses nowadays converted into exquisite restaurants.


The Umayyad Mosque stands on a site used for worshipping since the 9th century BC. As usual in this part of the world it started as a temple dedicated to a god (of the Arameans) then was a Byzantine basilica before the mosque was built. It is not simply a magnificent construction but the heart and soul of the city, a place of pilgrimage and exceptional religious importance. It is the most extraordinary mosque I've seen so far and far more than simply a mosque. The Great Mosque in Damascus is a social institution unlike anything I've seen before. I spent countless hours around it and many hours inside its courtyard and inside its prayer hall.
What makes this mosque so special ? It is a place full of life, a place where visitors come to admire, pilgrims come to pray and locals come to also socialize. The vast marbled courtyard is an excellent meeting and relaxing spot. Women and families sit and chat while their children play around, jumping and running across. People sit and read, or simply rest and have a nap. Some have a quick bite as if it were a picnic place. Inside the prayer hall it isn't very much different. Men lay leaning relaxed against a column and read a newspaper or a book. Some have a nap or talk on the cellphone whereas the most religious ones read from the Quran crouched on the soft carpet. I even saw men laying there with their eyes closed, whether meditating or sleeping I couldn't tell.
Behind, in the women's area the women are sitting in groups sometimes and chatting in whispering tone meanwhile their children grow more and more impatient and start running around in silence. I've seen the children munch on food there as well.

Overall the mosque is a place full of life from the moment its gates open in the morning till they close after the last prayer. It is thus much more than a place of worship: it's a refuge to seek rest and relaxation as much as social contact. It's a clear MUST for anyone travelling to the Middle East.