We wandered down Straight Street, which bisects the Old City east to west and was the main thoroughfare in Greek and Roman times. Rather than columns, today it is lined with shops selling everything from textiles, spices, sweets and metal work to furniture. Strangely, many of the shops were closed, and it was only later in the day that we realised we were actually out early for a Saturday in Damascus (about 1000) as by mid-afternoon the whole of the Old City was packed with families out shopping and the souk was heaving.
We nosed around a couple of the khans and almost bought some chocolates from the “Purveyors to Queen Victoria”, but you would have to be royalty to afford their prices. A stop at the Azem Palace provided temporary respite from the hustle and bustle of the souk, with its tranquil courtyards and gardens surrounded by exquisitely decorated rooms, the latter displaying wood panelling, tiled floors and painted ceilings. The Palace, built as a private residence between 1749 and 1752, even had its own bathhouse. They did ruin the rooms somewhat with displays of kitsch mannequins, the ones in the Hall of the Bride were especially alarming as they apparently had no ladies and so had put long hair and lipstick on male ones. It was all we could do to tear our eyes away from the mannequins in drag and look at the amazing decoration in the room.
After the palace we wandered into the back streets of the Old City and sought out nourishment in the form of a couple of wraps; the first a tasty mixture of pesto, tomato paste, cheese, mushrooms, olives and shredded “meat product”, the other a classic shwarma outside the Umayyad Mosque - both delicious.
The peace and quiet of the Great Mosque in Aleppo completely failed to prepare us for the noise and chaos of the Umayyad Mosque, which on Saturdays appears to be the preferred picnic spot for Damascus families and their children (the latter running wild around the courtyard and prayer hall). We found it hard to reconcile this behaviour with the religious purpose of the structure, but the Syrians seemed to have no problem.
The building was Islam’s first great mosque, built on the site of Byzantine basilica, which was originally a Roman temple to the god Jupiter, itself a conversion of a 9th century BC Aramaean temple. When Damascus became the capital of Islamic rule under the Umayyads, the caliph decided that the city needed a mosque appropriate to its status, and it took 1000 stone masons 10 years to build it from 706 AD. The mosque has been subject to earthquakes, Mongol raids and fire, but you can still see parts of the original elaborate gold wall mosaics that used to cover the entire structure, and the three original minarets also remain.
The shrine of Hussein (son of Ali, founder of Shiism, and grandson of the Prophet) is located in the mosque, and Anne went in for a closer look at one point which she instantly regretted as she was elbowed out of the way by Shiite Muslims who were crowding around the shrine touching it and rubbing cloths on it. She didn’t have a problem with this on the whole, obviously the shrine is a hugely significant religious icon to many, although she was slightly perturbed to be shoulder barged by a woman who was rubbing a bag of flumps over the monument (flumps = the sweets rather than the small furry things we watched on TV when we were kids). We remain puzzled as to why this lady was imbibing a bag of sweets with shriney goodness, but each to their own.
We attempted to visit the Citadel after the mosque, but it was closed for renovation so we consoled ourselves with an ice cream from Bekdach, reported to be the best ice cream parlour in Damascus. Judging by the scrum to get into the shop (babies were being squashed and all sorts) others seemed to agree with this sentiment. The ice cream was slightly strange as it’s made with sahlab, apparently like semolina powder, but topped with pistachio nuts it went down well.
On the way back to the hotel we called into the Hejaz train station which was completed in 1917 as the northern terminus of the Hejaz Railway (built to transport pilgrims to Mecca). No longer in use as a station, the interior harks back to the bygone age of steam with separate ticket windows for first and second class tickets, a beautifully decorated ceiling and stained glass windows casting multicoloured light on the brass handrails.
This evening we concentrated on resting our legs and doing some hand washing; we’re counting down the days until we have enough pants to last until we get back to the UK and a washing machine.
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