Aleppo

Two days ago, May 26, Omar, Tarik and I rolled into Aleppo in the late afternoon. Omar and I both were impressed and felt Aleppo was perhaps cleaner and better laid-out than Damascus, though it might not be prudent to say so to a Damascus resident. Apparently the cities are in competition Houston-Dallas style. The Aleppo dialect was a source of much amusement for Omar -- he said it's nothing like the Damascus speech. We asked a taxi driver for directions, and we learned our first word of Aleppo-speak: say-we means straight ahead, and is completely different from doghre, the word they use in Damascus. We continued to use it the rest of the trip. Wayn? ("Where?") Say-we! ("Straight!") Soon we checked into the hotel and I had to submit my passport. I was annoyed at first, thinking this would be their way to charge more to the rich American. Well, they did. Omar and Tarik shared a room for $30 and they charged me alone $40 US. However, the room was still a bargain when compared to US prices. In the room, a sign sternly warned me "Hotel management does not undertake any liability for ready money nor valuables unless deposited with reception against voucher!"

We went out to eat for dinner. The back streets of Aleppo are exactly what you think of as the Middle East -- quaint, narrow stone streets framed by tall old buildings made of large bricks. Dinner was a fancy restaurant on the top floor of a hotel overlooking the Aleppo Citadel. It was enchanting, but my stomach was still too weak to eat much and afterwards I ended up asking them to take me back to the room to sleep.

In the morning we got breakfast and went to the Citadel of Aleppo, an old fortress built in the 10th century on top of a hill. There a stone staircase leads to the main entrance, and once inside you can follow passages were soldiers and kings once trod a thousand years ago. For all that, most of the rooms were unremarkable -- high-arched ceilings and bare brick walls with the introverted windows used by archers to fend off attacks. The top floor has an ornate king's hall with wooden walls and a domed ceiling with stained glass and an impressive chandelier. Ah, but beyond the fortress lay the remains of an entire village -- a veritable maze of close-knit buildings with walls yet half-standing. Here lay the hammam where the leaders of the city planned and plotted; there stands the amphitheatre where the officials and entertainers addressed the people. And all below the crumbling walls stands the eternal city of Aleppo -- the domes and spires of its mosques, the green squares of public parks -- all stretching out to the horizon.

After the Citadel we walked towards the main bazaar area. The bazaar is organized by product, and we entered through the textile side. On the sidewalk, two young boys lay out a fleece and weer whipping it with long sticks. They called out something to us which was soon translated to "baldy!" and we figured they meant Omar. In one of the first shops, Omar stopped to admire one of the rugs. "Don't!" I told him. "Any second now a kid's gonna come running up to you!" As if on cue, here came a plump lad with glasses. Marhaba! "See?" Omar bought the carpet from him and told me it was his gift to me for the trip. What a guy! On into the bazaar we wandered. A guy there called out to me as we passed by. "Austrailian?" I ignored him but Tarik went ahead and talked to him. "Laa, Ameriki," he answered for me. "American? We do not get many American tourists. You are welcome!" He gave us his card and told us if we needed to change any money he was our man. Heh.

We soon tired of the bazaar and returned to the car to begin the journey to Palmyra.