Antakya II

I had wanted Ted to see Antakya, in fact, to have the whole experience of taking the dolmush to and from Gaziantep and wandering the city. That’s what we did our first weekend here. It turns out they’ve replaced the dolmush fleet – which had basically been 15-20 passenger vans – with new small 30-passenger buses. Of course the ride was more comfortable but somehow less colorful.

After dropping our bags in the hotel, we made a beeline for the little hummus and bakla restaurant my colleague Judy and I had discovered during our last trip. We’d only had the hummus because we didn’t know what bakla was – we thought it might have been something sweet. However, then we saw someone order it and decided next time we’d try bakla. Well, this was the next time, and we did try it. I’m oh so glad we did.

Judy Isacoff and Martha with the chef/proprietor Zeynel Ustanin Yeri

I actually watched the proprietor prepare it. First, he put some salt and a couple cloves of garlic in the bottom of a bowl and mashed them. Then he scooped out a large ladle of beans and broth from a large copper or brass pot he had on the counter. He began mashing those, all the while adding olive oil, lemon juice, tahini and cumin. It ends up about the consistency of refried beans, although there are still some whole beans, and it is still warm and a bit more watery. When he was finished mashing, he drizzled some more tahini on top and added some fresh parsley. It is truly wonderful. In fact, Ted and I found some bakla beans in the market yesterday and are going to try to make it at home.

Click on this to read the official history of this little chapel.

After hummus and bakla we went to another place specializing in the local dessert, künefe. We then wandered through the bazaar, something Judy and I hadn’t done the time before. It’s definitely not a tourist bazaar; in fact, I don’t think I saw any tourist items there. There were just lots of small shops catering to the daily needs of the residents. It was a lot of fun to wander and not be badgered by vendors. After a rest at the hotel we ventured across the river. The bridge takes one to a traffic circle. Several obviously French colonial buildings face the circle, and several main streets take off from it, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. This is the new part of the city. We wandered up the street that most closely paralleled the river. What a contrast to the bazaar. It’s like Antakya’s answer to Fifth Avenue in New York. All the stores were modern and stocked with the latest fashions. The people on the street at least thought of themselves as the hip generation. It was a fun stroll.

A bit of the "original" mosaic that was on the floor. Such fragments are visible here and there on the chapel floor.

The next morning we walked up to Saint Peter’s church. This time I had my camera with me. I think Ted was impressed.

Ted reading the plaque. This gives you a sense of the height of the cave.

It is humbling to think that the earliest converts to Christianity and those that began to think of themselves as Christians, might have worshiped here.

Chair behind the altar and the back of the cave

Ted and Martha in front of the altar

As we were leaving I looked at a map of the area on the wall of the room, which clearly showed the ruins of an old Roman fortification atop the mountain. I asked if there were any busses up there. Someone called an English-speaking employee and he said you have to have a car. He then offered to take us in his car for the price of the gas. That seemed reasonable and turned out to be a great decision. You approach the summit from the backside of the mountain where there are several small villages, lots of agriculture – including a pomegranate orchard – and a huge quarry. He was originally from one of those villages. No attempt has been made to restore any part of this fortification, which was actually huge in it’s time. There are pieces of the wall visible, and here and there you can see evidence of a structure. However, it’s mostly tree-covered now and a popular place to come for picnics in the summer. It was quite windy, and you could tell but the shape of the trees that strong winds blow there year round. The view down into the city was great but it wasn’t a clear day. Apparently you can see all the way to the Mediterranean when there are no clouds or fog.

There is also a tea house that seemed like it could have been a mountain lodge in the US. The walls were covered with wood from small trees and there was a huge stone fireplace. There was also a wood-burning stove going – that’s where we sat and drank tea. It was a lovely morning.

After the trek to the top of the mountain we gathered our bags from the hotel, had one more meal of bakla and hummus and headed to the bus station. The trip home was uneventful. Ted did see what we think was a hawk. Trying to look up hawks in our bird book, however, it seems that might have been some sort of vulture. Anyhow, it wasn’t a pigeon, crow or sparrow – about the only kinds of birds you see around here, at least at this time of year.

Red Letter Day

Ted arrived in Turkey. He was scheduled to fly Seattle - New York - Istanbul - Gaziantep, arriving at 2:20 PM. However, his NY-Istanbul flight was diverted to Dublin because of a medical emergency on board. They were kept in Dublin for three hours so Ted missed his Gaziantep connection in Istanbul. However, I did not know this at the time.

I had planned to take the 12:30 PM Turkish Air shuttle to the airport. That would have put me at the airport well in advance of Ted's arrival. I also had a couple of errands to do in town and didn't know exactly where the shuttle left from. For that reason I left home around 10 AM that morning. Well, I accomplished my tasks easily and found the shuttle office without too much trouble. That meant I was on the 11:30 shuttle and would have a two hour plus wait. Luckily I had grabbed a knitting project as I left the apartment -- just in case.

Ted's plane landed after a 15 minute delay, but he didn't come out the exit door. Someone asked if it were an international connection. I said yes so he sent me to another gate to watch. Only one man came out. I was about to go to the Turkish Air desk to see if Ted had made the flight when my cell phone range. It was Ted -- calling from Istanbul. He said the next flight wasn't until 7 PM. I briefly considered catching the shuttle back into town. However, I'd just have to kill time in town so I decided to wait it out at the airport. There are aparently no midday flights because after a while the only people there were the security personnel and yours truly, knitting away. The newsstand and bar closed up. It got really quite. Then things started moving again. Passengers started arriving, and the little businesses opened up again. Ted arrived this time, and we took a taxi home. Hurrah! He made it.

He came to work with me on Thursday and Friday. I left at noon on Friday and took him to one of my favorite museums, the City Museum of Gaziantep. They have a wonderful English commentary you can listen to as you go from exhibit. About half way through the circuit we came to the baklava exhibit, complete with a video on the entire process. We learned, for example, that the butter they use is made from goat and sheep's milk and is 97% butter fat. Then the power went out and we were asked to leave the museum. Of course, we knew what we had to do next: eat baklava, of course. So we walked down the street to what is reputed to be the best baklava place in town -- there is another place that claims to be the best, but who cares. Oh, so delicious! This was Ted's true introduction to Gaziantep -- and a great one, I think.

Damascus

Leaving Aleppo behind us, we drove south through beautiful agricultural land. The rectangular fields were either green or freshly plowed. However, it is obvious that Syria is not a prosperous as Turkey. The villages we past were all somewhat shabby and run down. However, the fields were beautiful.

About half way to Damascus we stopped at Hama, another of those ancient Silk Road towns. It’s most famous for its norias or giant waterwheels, whose function it was to scoop water from the low-lying Orontes river and into an aqueduct.

Water wheel in Hama. Not the aqueduct to the right.

The aqueduct system supplied the city and surrounding fields with water. The Romans built such wheels and irrigation systems throughout their empire. The aqueduct looked Roman but the wheel we saw were said to be “only” 1,000 years old. The stop made a nice little interlude in the trip between Aleppo and Damascus. Too bad we couldn’t see more of the city.

It was dark for most of the rest of the trip. The almost full moon accompanied us the whole way, somehow comforting. We went through some hills before reaching the city, and when you came around the final bend, the whole city lay before you, all lit up. The is a range of mountains – or high hills, depending on our perspective. The city lights went quite far up the slopes and the following morning it was clear that they are building right up this steep landscape. The puzzling thing was the string of lights all along the ridge of those hills.

We drove into the center of the city. We all piled out of the bus, and marched through the now closed bazaar. The street was quite wide, not narrow like other bazaars I’d seen. And there was a high arching roof. I didn’t find out until later that this was the “Street that was called Straight” from the Bible. I actually walked that same street a couple of times the following day when it was bustling with shoppers. But it was amazing to think that Paul was taken to the house of Judas who lived on that street (before it became a covered market) after being struck blind as he approached with Damascus with letters authorizing persecution of Christians.

We soon left this broad, quiet avenue for narrow, winding back streets. At one intersection we even saw a house that seemed to be tipping precariously. We soon ducked into a restaurant where we were served a family-style mean – kebaps preceded by plate of humus and parsley-laden tabouli. At a corner table behind us were six young women, I would say teenagers. They were all scarfed up but there by themselves – smoking nargiles (aka hookahs), the water pipe you see all around Turkey. Clearly, I bring other associations to the smoking of such pipes, but even in Turkey, it’s mostly men who go to nargile cafes. But in Syria it seems to be a national pastime. The restaurant itself was at basement level but the ceiling was at least three stories high – the walls painted pink and lime green. We weren’t in Gaziantep any more.

Note the light fixtures in the restaurant. Ours is the long table sort of to the left.

After dinner we drove to the top of Jebel Qassioun, the hill to the west of Damascus across the top of which I’d seen those mysterious lights. It turns out they were tea houses. It’s very popular to drive to the top of this hill at sunset and look down on Damascus as the city lights come one. We’d long missed sunset but you could certainly see the city spreading out beneath you. It certainly gave you a sense of the immense size of this city. This night view of the city marked the end of the day for us; we traveled from there to our hotel were we all gratefully fell into bed.

The first place we went the next morning, the Takiyya as-Süleimaniyya mosque, turned out to be one of my favorites. Personally I prefer places of worship that are more intimate in nature. This particular complex seems more inviting. In addition to the mosque there is what was once a Sufi hostel – it’s now used for artisans, but none of them was in sight that morning – and a madrassa that was added later. The garden sin the center of this complex were also lovely. The mosque itself was designed by the famous Ottoman architect Sinan (architect of the huge Süleymaniye Mosque in Istanbul) and built over a period of six years beginning in 1554. This mosque is a bit more modest in scale. It has certain typical Syrian features like the alternating layers of black (basalt) and white (limestone) stones. However, the dome and the cylindrical minaret are typically Turkish; the minarets in Syria are all square. The mosque is currently being restored, the restoration paid for by the Turkish government. In fact, it may have been that we were able to enter just because this was a tour group from Turkey.

This is the courtyard. The colonnade of the mosque itself if partially visible on the right. The hostel is in the back.

From this mosque complex we walked around the corner to the National Museum. Sadly we had just over an hour there. You’d probably need more like days than hours to really see that museum. Then entrance itself is a the main gate of Qasr al-Heir al-Gharbi, a desert palace near Palmyra. When you consider that this area, from southern Iraq right up to southern Turkey, was the cradle of civilization, you can begin to imagine what might be in this museum. It really is thrilling to see ancient cuneiform tablets, for example. Since Syria was once part of the French mandate in the Middle East, the labels on the older exhibits were typed on paper in Arabic and French. Some were yellowed and curling at the edges. The newer labels were on Plexiglas in Arabic and English. In fact, I saw quite a bit of English signage around Damascus.

Entrance to the National Museum

From museum we went to see the Azem palace built in the mid-18^th century by the governor of Damascus. It is built around a large courtyard. Most are the small rooms have been turned into a kind of folkloric museum, with displays of, say, musical instruments, or some craft or other. We did get to go into the baths – very reminiscent of the hamam here in Gaziantep where I have been a couple of times. One of the plaques even mentioned the little circular cuts in the dome as being typical of Ottoman baths.

Next to the Azem palace in the Umayyad mosque. This was the first large mosque built outside of Mecca and probably one of the most important mosques in the Islamic world. Originally there had been a gigantic temple to the Aramaean god Hadad. The Romans converted it to the worship of Jupiter. Then Christian built the basilica dedicated to St. John, whose head was said to be on a casket there. The Muslims razed the basilica and built this monumental mosque in its place, retaining the casket with John the Baptist’s head. It has suffered from Mongol invasions, earthquakes and other destructive events but the current structure is amazing. The courtyard itself is gigantic. Apparently it’s heavily used as a social gathering place by Damascans. There is what we might call a cloister walk around the inside, obviously a cool place to stroll on a hot summer day. My photos don’t really due justice to the site. If you want to check it out in detail go to http://www.sacred-destinations.com/syria/damascus-umayyad-mosque-photos/

Entrance to the sanctuary

I will make one observation. The mosaics over the entrance to the sanctuary reminded me of the mosaics over the entrance to the Stanford chapel. I guess both are vaguely Byzantine. One other observation—the courtyard was entirely paved. I’ve seen lots of Mosque courtyards with trees. I don’t know if there is a reason for not having a garden of any kind in this courtyard, but it’s “wall-to-wall” stone.

The mosque visit was followed by obligatory shopping time. I tagged along while others shopped. I did get a couple of prints that appealed to me, but mostly nothing called out “buy me.”

Our last stop in Damascus was in a Christian Quarter of the Old City. We visit a small chapel called the Ananias Chapel. It is said to be the house of Ananias who came to heal Paul of his blindness. The actual chapel is in the basement. It is said that this was the actual street level during Roman times.

Altar in the Ananias Chapel

Right around the corner is St. Paul’s Church or Chapel of St. Paul. It was built in the last century on the spot where the gate Bab Kisan once stood. It was the gate through which Paul escaped Damascus (Acts 9). A section of the old city wall actually ends at this structure. Inside there are paintings reminiscent of icons that tell the story of Paul’s life.

Paul being struck blind and then being led into Damascus

There are also carved scenes depicting his escape.

Paul being let down the outside of the Damascus city wall in a basket

From here it was off to dinner and then the long trip back to Gaziantep. A memorable three days, indeed. Now I’d like to go back and spend some real time in Syria.

Aleppo

The Border Crossing into Syria from Turkey

I really did do something besides attend a New Year’s Eve party in Aleppo. Our bus left Gaziantep at 8:00 AM. It was less than an hour to the border, and the drive t was lovely. The countryside has greened up, and it was a bright, sunny day. In fact, I actually dug out my sunglasses when we got to Aleppo. We ended up waiting quite a while to get across the border. I was surprised we had to wait so long on the Turkish side. Of course, they had to collect the 15 TL all Turks have to pay when they leave the country, but our guide actually collected that money ahead of time. I don’t know what the big wait was. Then we waited again for the Syrian officials to do their work. Of course, we weren’t the only ones crossing. It was a nice day so we stood around outside the bus.

It was then that I met my roommate. When I signed up for the tour, I had to pay the single room supplement because I had no one to share a room with. I did tell the travel agent that I would be willing to share if another woman on the tour wanted a roommate. It turned out that a very dear woman was traveling with her daughter and son-in-law and was willing to share. She had been a French teacher but retired 30 years ago. Between the bit of French we both knew, the bit of English she knew and my few works of Turkish supplemented by my pocket dictionary, we got along famously. You’ll see her in a photo later on.

Entrance to citadel. The smaller guardhouse is in front, the larger behind.

There was an Arabic-speaking Turkish guide on the bus, but we picked up a Turkish speaking Syrian guide at the border. He provided all the commentary – in Turkish, of course. When we first arrived in Aleppo he was pointing our certain buildings, but I never really did figure out what they were. Our first real stop was the citadel. Lot’s of cities in the region have citadels in the middle of the older part of town. However, Aleppo’s is truly impressive. In fact, it withstood all sieges, including one by the Crusaders, until the Mongols arrived. The first Mongols actually only captured the citadel by subterfuge; it was Tamurlane who provide the defenders of Aleppo with their first military defeat.

Looking up at the second larger guard house

Unlike Gaziantep’s citadel you can actually enter this one, through two separate guard houses. The second one is huge and you corridor is like a maze, build to withstand any frontal attack. From there you go across a bridge and into the main part of the citadel.


Although the actual interior is basically in ruins, it is clear that it was once a little city in itself. It even had an amphitheater, which is still in good shape. We went deep inside the castle and saw dungeons and cisterns. There were also a couple of mosques. It’s hard to imagine the history that structure has witnessed.

One of the many arches and doorways still standing. The black and white stonework is typical.

After viewing the castle we had a late (3:30 PM) lunch. As we were entering the restaurant the Syrian guide came up and told me how very glad he was that I, as an American, was visiting Syria. He wanted me to know that the Syrian people really like the American people. He repeated himself a couple of times – and then added that it was Bush they didn’t like. I pointed out that Bush was no longer in office. However, I must say it did make me feel good that he made the effort to recognize my presence. I’m sad that more Americans don’t visit, because despite what our respective governments do, I think it’s important to keep up the people-to-people contact.

After lunch we were given two hours of free time to shop. One of the entrances to the bazaar was right near the the castle, possibly the biggest tourist attraction in town. My Syrian guidebook pointed out that the labyrinth of narrow covered streets comprising the bazaar is 15 km in length – surely not to be missed. So my roommate Turkan and I plunged in. Because this entrance is near a huge tourist attraction, going down the first couple hundred yards is like running a gauntlet. The salesmen practically throw themselves at you. If they are selling scarves, they put the scarves around you as you walk – and these are the same scarves you see all over Turkey. You can’t really even make eye contact. I made the mistake of stopping to look at some little bags at one of the scarf vendors. When I turned one over, I remarked that the cloth on the back came from Gaziantep – it’s very distinctive, and Gaziantep is known for it. He said no, no it was Syrian but then quickly drew my attention to some silk scarves with block prints that his family supposedly made – and which I saw in numerous other shops down the aisle. He quoted me some totally outrageous price. Frankly, I didn’t want anything at any price and was finally able to extricate myself and move along. Further along things settled down a bit. We came to the shops selling bolts of gorgeous fabric. If you were a seamstress, you would go wild there, although I’m not certain if I’d ever have the chance to wear anything made out of such fabric.

After about a half hour I sensed Turkan needed to get out of there. We took a few wrong turns but finally made our way to the entrance. Actually, women vendors had already begun to close up shop. We located the cafe that was to be the group meeting point and found a seat under one of the heaters – the temperature dropped noticeably after the sun went down. I was here that I had an experience that might have been the highlight of the trip.

As I sat looking up at the castle, tastefully and gently lit from below, the full moon rose from behind the corner of one of the guard towers. It took my breath away – the inky blue sky, silhouettes of palm and cedar trees. The sight conjured up all the images that formed in my imagination when I was reading all those 19^th century German novellas. You can see how those crusading soldiers from dark and dreary northern Europe might have responded – and why some of them stayed.

I was sad to leave the café, but we had to get to the hotel for the party you’ve presumably read about already. We got a very late start – 12:30 PM – the next day. I don’t know if anyone actually stayed until 5 AM, but most people didn’t start appearing until nearly 11 AM. They only stop we made before leaving Aleppo was the Great Mosque – or Zachariah Mosque as our guide called it.

There was a similar dedicatory plaque in Arabic. Click on this photo and you can clearly read this inscription.

In the main sanctuary there is a shrine said to contain the head of Zachariah, father of John the Baptist.

Note that men and women visit the shrine on different sides of a partition

The mosque itself was built in the courtyard of a former Byzantine cathedral, and parts of the cathedral can apparently still be seen. I didn’t find them, but that is supposed to be the case. Even though all the women in our group were completely covered and were wearing scarves, we nevertheless had to don hooded robes that left us looking a little bit like those characters in Star Wars who wore those brown hooded cloaks.

My roommate Turkan is in the middle, her daughter on the left and me on the right

I must say, I always feel a bit like I’m intruding when I play tourist in a space where people are trying to pray. On the other hand, people let their children run and play in that same space. I was surprised to see three- and four-year-old children ripping and racing around – apparently with full approval of their parents.

Entrance to sanctuary -- note hooded tourist in foreground

So that was the visit to Aleppo. We boarded the bus and were off to Damascus.

THE VISA

As I mentioned in the previous blog entry, I spent the New Year’s weekend traveling in Syria. It was a tour organized by a local travel agency and I was the only non-Turk. The only problem with that is that Turks do not need a visa to travel to Syria and Americans do. Getting the visa was an almost surreal experience, somewhat Kafkaesque.

Fortunately there is a Syrian consulate here in Gaziantep, not too surprising since we’re less than an hour from the Syrian border and Gaziantep is the only large city in southeastern Turkey. The travel agent said she would find out what kind of paperwork was needed for me to go on this trip. I didn’t hear for quite a while. She informed me very tactfully that the person she needed deal with didn’t appear to keep regular hours. Anyhow, she finally got through and told me I needed to get a letter from the rector of Zirve – essentially the university president – saying I was employed by Zirve and wanted to participate in such and such a trip. Naturally she needed it immediately. Amazingly I was able to get such a letter – with help from my friend Filiz who’s a business school faculty member at Zirve. I delivered it to the travel agent and then began waiting – and waiting and waiting. The trip left on the morning of December 31^st. On the afternoon of December 29^th I got an e-mail telling me to go to the consulate at 10 AM on the 30^th with a passport and a surprisingly hefty sum of money to pay for the visa. I teach at 10:30 AM but was giving a test that day. I arranged for someone to start the test, thinking I’d only be slightly late.

I arrived at the consulate a bit early, thinking they’d just take my money and put the visa in my passport. Surprise. There were two police security posts outside the consulate walls, and one of the officers directed me to the front gate. I rang the bell and a rather threatening type – sandy hair, crew cut, scowling expression, not such a great complexion -- opened up. He could have been a character out of a James Bond movie. Anyhow he directed me to the other gate and led me up to a window that obviously served people needing some sort of paperwork from the consulate. I think I must have been expected because the man behind the window signaled my escort to take me to the front door. We went through some bushes in a planter that separated the two areas and I was led into a beautiful waiting area – highly polished wood floors, gorgeous carpets, tasteful furniture and at least one picture of President Assad. I’m sure there are plenty of pictures of our presidents in the embassies and consulates around the world so I didn’t think too much about it.

Now began the waiting. To my right there was a corridor with lots of doors – which reminded me a bit of Kafka’s The Castle. If I had proceeded straight ahead after coming through the front door, I would have encountered a flight of stairs leading to the floor above. Behind me was a door into the booth that faced the outside. It was very quiet and nothing was moving. Finally a gentleman, I’ll call him Visa Man, came out of the booth and brought me what were essentially two visa applications to fill out. Then he left. He did return after a while and help me fill out a couple of items I found problematic – like where I’d cross the border. He then took my passport and the papers and disappeared upstairs. Frankly, I was never quite sure where he went between times. He kind of appear from an unexpected direction. Meanwhile, a young man that came downstairs on several occasions and disappeared into a door in the hallway. After doing this a couple of times, he asked me if I’d like coffee or tea. I replied tea. He said fine and disappeared. I frankly gave up on the tea because nothing came and I never saw him again.

After an extremely long wait, Visa Man came back with my passport, two application forms and a document written all in Arabic with my name spelled out in the middle. I thought maybe this document was the visa and that I was nearing the end of the process. He then asked me for the 265 TL and two photos. Two photos!!?!! No one told me to bring photos, I explained. Just a passport and the visa fee. This really threw him. I told him I had passport photos at the office. He said, “Go get them.” I explained that the office was far away but that I could come back with them in the afternoon. I’d clearly thrown him for loop; this was’t how things were supposed to unfold. He disappeared up the stairs, and this time stayed away for a long time. The tea finally did appear, and fortunately I’d brought along a good book (The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak – worth reading, by the way). He returned about 11:30 AM and told me to come back in an hour with pictures. I briefly considered taking a taxi to Zirve and back but that might have taken more than an hour and would have cost $75. So I walked toward the downtown and located one of those stores that takes passport photos. I was back to the consulate by noon, quite proud of myself. Now, I thought, we can finish this off and I can make it back for my 1:15 PM class. Wrong.

Back to the aptly name waiting room. At one point I had to use the restroom. I left two photos on the coffee table, just in case. When I returned, they were gone. Finally, Visa Man came back with my applications forms, pictures stapled to the corners. He motioned me to follow him upstairs. Visa Man had his bent arms pressed to his side – holding my paperwork in his hard. He sort of bowed as he entered the room – it was almost like we were approaching the Queen of England. It turned out I was being ushered into the office of the Consul General for an audience. Actually, the Consul General asked me few questions. He was actually quite charming, telling me about his two years in New York and three months in Los Angeles. Then he described the importance of Syria in Christian history and how from Damascus was from Beirut and Amman Jordan – only 45 minutes by can in either direction. He suggested I spend two weeks in Damascus and see the whole area. I told him I’d love to but he needed to tell our rector – which whom he apparently good friends – to give me more time off so I could make the trip. He said, jokingly, that he would do that. However, the whole time he was flipping through my passport, probably looking for offending visas. Fortunately, this was a relatively new passport – the old one would have had Chinese and Rwandan visas in them. He didn’t find anything so he finally handed the paperwork back to Visa Man and I went back downstairs -- to wait. I was ever so glad I’d purchased a cell phone the week before. I’d actually only used it once to make a call. However, I was able to call back to campus and get someone to tell my class that I’d be late but that they should wait for me. I left the consulate a little after 1:00 PM, visa in hand. Fortunately there was a taxi stand around the corner, and the driver was able to get me to campus by 1:30 PM. The students had their second listening test of the quarter scheduled for that day, and I didn’t need the whole period for that. And I was able to flash my fancy new visa; they were quite impressed. It took over three hours of mostly waiting, but I had IT – less than 24 hours before departure time. I’d be able to make the trip after all.

Goodbye 2009, Hello 2010

Yes, it’s Merry New Year again. This time from Aleppo, Syria, where I had gone as part of a three-day tour of that country. I knew when I signed up that the hotel was hosting a New Year’s Eve gala and the price of the tour included this event. It sounded like a meal and some music. I had no idea this festivity would turn out to be spectacle. But let me backtrack.

We didn’t get into our hotel rooms until around eight. We were told to be downstairs at 9:30 PM. I’d planned to shower and change into my party duds, but first I wanted to rest a bit – it had been a long day. Well, my roommate woke be at 9:15, no shower and not much time to change. That was okay. Only half our group was there on time and the official event – there was a program on every table – didn’t start until 10:00 PM and was scheduled to end at 5 AM! Our group was assigned the tables on either side of the door. I sat with my back against the wall, which allowed me to watch everyone make their entry. And making an entry was what they did.

First you had to walk through a little tunnel of arches, designed to look like a snow scene -- yes, those are little Santas waving from the "snowy" arches. If you look into the ballroom, you can see that each chair has been covered with a sheet of satiny fabric. A big red ribbon -- probably 10" wide -- has been tied around the back. That was our table.

They began bringing appetizers somewhat after 10 PM. We'd had such a big and late lunch that appetizers were just fine for me -- you ended up with a plateful of food just sampling. When the music started at 10:30 PM and the room was only about one quarter full -- I wondered if it would be a meager crowd. I needn't have worried; people kept entering. Yes, here and there a family with younger children or someone in a headscarf and conservative dress. However, for the most part it reminded me a bit of a scene out of the Godfather with women almost over dressed, over coiffed and over accessorized on the arms of dark-haired men in suits. Of course, that's from my more conservative Northwest vantage point. Actually, I quite enjoyed the people watching aspect.

The Western Music portion of the program was performed by a duo, a violinist and a keyboardist. The keyboardist had a whole band in his instrument, and he also provided the occasional vocal. The music was sort of Western pop, meant to be danceable. I got a kick out of watching couples dance to a bouncy version of Silent Night. Quite a switch from standing in a darkened church on Christmas Eve, everyone singing Silent Night reverently while holding a candle in one's hand. As midnight approached the dance floor filled. The musicians launched into a medley of Christmas carols. It was a hoot to see everyone out there bopping away to "Angels We Have Heard on High" -- and I could belt out the Gloria in Excelsis Deo part without anyone even noticing. That portion of the program ended at 12:20 AM, followed by -- not what you might expect after Christmas caroles -- a voluptuous belly dancer who really brought the crowd to its feet.

This belly dancer was quite an energetic person. She actually took one very short break and then came back. When she was finished, the musicians continued playing and one of the guests came out on the floor and did her little belly dancing routine.

Then the fun really began. A Syrian pop singer and his band came on stage. I found out later was the most famous pop singer in Syria. They played Arabic pop and the dance floor was packed. It's not so much couples dancing but rather everyone out there doing their own thing. Some get into lines, some just twirl around to the beat. Hard to describe but very infectious. You could hardly keep from smiling, in fact, you could hardly watch and sit still. Eventually I even had to get out there. And if that weren't enough, sometime just past 1:00 AM they brought out the main course! A traditional breakfast was scheduled for 4:30 AM but I gave up at 2:30 AM.

There was one touching incident that I really didn't understand until the following day. Abutting the other table occupied by our group was a table of eight. They were a very energetic group. All the women were tall and blonde (not naturally so, says my catty self). Just before I left one man from our group went over and dragged a couple of men from that table onto the dance floor. They started doing a sort of traditional Middle Eastern line dance and then were joined by other members of the group. They were all laughing and goofing around. I couldn't understand why this guy would have gone to a table of strangers like that. It turns out members of our party had been talking to this group. One of them had gone to the university and lived in Istanbul. However, he had returned to Damascus because that's where his family was. The group had come all the way from Damascus for this party -- a group of Armenians. It turns out the pop singer was also Armenian, so perhaps there was some connection there. Anyhow, I think it was a gesture by the Turk to reach out to the Armenians. Of course, it doesn't undo the past, but it's nevertheless important to build these relationships in the present.