Damascene Style

My flight was scheduled to depart Amman at 17:00, and at 16:00 we still weren’t quite at the airport. What was I going to do if I didn’t make the flight? It was the last flight of the day to Aqaba, and another 4 to 5 hours in the car after the already over 3 hour drive from Damascus did not sound exciting. Sitting in the back seat twiddling my thumbs and thinking about the tight schedule, Jordan was passing by my eyes. The occasional gust of wind brought clouds of sand around the car.

Damascus was nicer than I had expected, but I still have mixed feelings about Syria. With only one full day to explore the city, I decided it best to hire a guide to ensure I see all the important sites. It didn’t take me long to regret that decision. I was in the middle of the capital city of a Middle Eastern dictatorship that thrives on propaganda. In many ways, Assad’s tight control of Syria has saved it from the problems Lebanon has faced over the years. The roads are well kept, the city is pretty clean by Middle Eastern standards, large spotless government buildings stand proudly throughout the city, there is little crime, Muslims and Christians live side by side in peace, and political unrest is unheard of. Images of Hafez and Bachar al Assad are everywhere in the country, and I half expected one of them to appear on my computer screen shaking their finger at me when I tried to access facebook and couchsurfing, both websites which are blocked from Syrian internet service providers.

My guide was more like the assistant minister of propaganda than a well-versed tour guide. I was disappointed with his ill-informed history and his obvious over-Damacusization of everything he could think of, and even found his commentary in general very boring. He seemed thwarted when I shot down his statement that September 11th was completely staged with an eyewitness account. He had insisted that to this day, they had never found any evidence that a plane had hit the Pentagon. My nearly 6 hour tour of Beirut had seemed long, but it was enjoyable and informative. The 7 hour tour of Damascus was never-ending and tedious, and I was visibly annoyed with the guide by the time we made it back to the hotel. That said, I did like some of what I saw in Damascus, and the Ommayad mosque in particular was beautiful. I only wish I had chosen to explore the city on my own.

Damascus reminds me of a Middle Eastern Seoul - a metropolitan city surrounded by mountains. In this case, the city is believed by many to be the location of the Garden of Eden, and the surrounding hills are home to the first evil, the story of Cain and Abel. The city has an almost mystical atmosphere to it, particularly in the old town. So many stories by so many people have been told in and about this city; Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, St. Paul, the Prophet Mohammed, and many others. Layer upon layer of history hides in the most unlikely of places. At one point, we went into a pedestrian tunnel full of low-priced clothing shops, much like the metro stations of many European cities - Budapest comes to mind. Daddy Yankee was playing on the stereo while young misled Syrian men stood in their slim-cut button down shirts with their hairy chests bulging from the mostly open buttons. Apparently, while women are encouraged to cover up (to a much more moderate degree than many Muslim countries), men use their chests like peacock feathers to attract the shy members of the opposite sex. We were there to see one of the few exposed portions of the old Roman wall surrounding the city because where else would it be hiding?

This morning, I had breakfast at the hotel and then waited for a driver to pick me up for the drive to the Amman airport. Leaving Damascus, the rest of Syria appeared much more like I had expected. Like the Bekaa valley in Lebanon, the area between Damascus and the Jordanian border is dry and dusty, yet fertile. One thing that stuck out to me was that while the Syrian soldiers spray painted every available surface in Lebanon with pro-Syrian slogans, there is not a spot of graffiti anywhere in Syria. The border between Syria and Jordan was much less busy and much easier to pass through than the Lebanese-Syrian border. Even still, it was definitely another example of a complicated and confusing Middle Eastern land border.

Once inside Jordan, I can’t explain how, but the entire atmosphere changed. Even visually, the fertile plains of Syria gave way to sandy desert hills. Lebanon is definitely the most beautiful country in the region from what I have seen so far, but I every place has its own charms. I did manage to check in and board my flight to Aqaba, and now I am at a brand new hotel on the Red Sea. The Kempinski hasn’t even had its grand opening yet, but I’m here enjoying the view of the white sand beach from my balcony, and I look forward to enjoying some sun and swimming tomorrow.