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Charming Al-Sham!

Photos: SANGEETA BAROOAH PISHAROTY

Enduring The railway station in Damascus, a heritage building, and a view of Al Nofra café (below) in the old city

A labyrinth of sinewy lanes snaking through windswept grizzled buildings with ornate doors, thick creepers drooping from wrought iron windowsills, and the tap-tap of heels on pebbled streets.

Damascus, the Syrian capital, the oldest inhabited city in the world, is a mirage with the power to pull every stranger. Cafés with a past, centuries-old villas converted into bustling restaurants, quaint churches, formidable mosques, souks, ha mams, a traditional storyteller, a street-side portrait maker, a bunch of happy youngsters in low-rise jeans and leather boots lost in the high of hookah and guitar strums…the city can toss multiple experiences at an outsider in just a day’s time, taking one into its sway completely. Endearingly called Al-sham or a dimple on the cheek in Arabic, Damascus, particularly the old city, can leave a traveller bemused at living a dream-like situation where almost every building has a history, every street leads to a story worth hearing.

My discovery of Damascus begins with a visit to Umayyad mosque in the old city. It goes back 3,000 years — a time span, I later realise, is a norm in this country that embraced so many great civilisations of the world. One of the oldest mosques in the world, it is a confluence of Islam and Christianity. During the Aramean rule, it was a temple of Hedad. The Romans later built a temple of Jupiter here. With Christianity spreading there, it became a cathedral. Much later, it became a mosque, worked on by architects from Constantinople, Egypt and Damascus. What remains today is an amazing sight. The mosque door opens to a huge courtyard, on the right of which stands a church and on the left a mosque. The mosque is one of the holiest shrines for Shia Muslims. It was here that the head of Hussein, the grandson of Prophet Mohammad, was kept after the war of Karbala. Many a devout can be seen weeping here quietly even as someone recites the marsiyah — a moving sight. At the tomb of John the Baptist inside the former cathedral, you would find many Muslims reciting the Quran. They long declared him to be a prophet.

On one end of the mosque lies the tomb of Saladin and a museum of Arabic calligraphy with exhibits dating back to the 7th Century B.C. Bang opposite the mosque’s main gate is the Hamiddiyah souk, Damascus’ oldest traditional market. A shopper’s paradise, this covered market has a variety of things to choose from, including Syria’s famous damask, embroidered tablecloths and hand-woven durries, particularly the multi-hued Bedouin ones.

Behind the mosque, I find umpteen quaint places to while away the evenings. Many old villas have been turned into restaurants; they serve local food to die for. One dish that I particularly remember is roasted lamb wrapped in grape leaves and steamed before serving. With long drags from flavoured nargileh (ornate glass hookahs), with live bands playing Syrian music accompanied by local string instruments like uud, and a spread of local delicacies, Damascus is an ideal place for an idle traveller.

Also popular in Old Damascus are its cafés. Al Nofra is one such name set in the shadow of Ummayad mosque. There, you would find an eccentric, tiny man sitting on a high chair reading out quite dramatically — at times wielding his long cane high in the air or spanking it on a tea table — pages from a dog-eared book of Arabic history. On knowing that I am from India, he later regaled me with the evergreen Shammi Kapoor number “Suku suku…” even as I sipped a superb mint tea. Right opposite this is Al Sham, another legendary café, formerly a hamam.

Though a Muslim country, Syria impresses you with its secular credentials. An instance is its ageing churches popping up almost everywhere. The most noted one is St. Paul’s Cathedral. Also, the Patriarch of Syrian Christians lives here, besides Armenian, Greek Orthodox and Maronite churches practicing their faith freely.

Unlike other Arab countries, in Syria, you find walkers on the streets. Spring is a good time for ramblers in Damascus, and with taxis often overcharging outsiders, walking is a better option with a detailed map in tow.

In total, I spend three days in Damascus — smelling its spices, tasting the donna kababs and the dollops of hummus and baba ganoush, and also staring at the well-turned out locals — living every moment to the fullest. Knowing well that I shall return one day to relive them.

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