Inferno meets souq
Remember that inscription carved on the door of hell according to Dante's Inferno? "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here".
These very words should be carved onto the gates of Aleppo's famous covered maket, or souq. I don't think I have ever, in my entire life, felt quite so claustrophobic as I did today in the souq!
Keeping up the Dante's Inferno alanlogy for a while, you could say that on the first level of souq there are over enthusiastic salesmen, who will not take la shukran (no thanks) for an answer. Going on through to the second level of souq the air is starting to get definitely hot and stuffy, you're thirsty and the ONLY thing not on sale here is bottles of water. On the third level there are many, many, many fellow-sinners, a humongous rush and crowd that presses in on all sides, level four is full of salesmen pushing carts full of nuts, cotton bales or such around at incredible speed and not minding whose heels they clip as they push through the crowd, level five of souq is bringing out the big guns - delivery vans pressing into the crowd - both ways! - in places that are absolutely too narrow to accommodate them, and with an impressive disregard of the milling crowds around them, level six being the carbon monozide and exhaust fumes that these vans freely vent into the narrow, covered corridors, where it has no place to go, except into the eyes, nose and mouth of the crowd from level three. And the winner is: the Lambada! That catching tune from years gone past has managed to become the official alarm sound used in all Syrian (or at least Aleppan) vans when they reverse. And in the tight corners of the souq reverse they must. So the Lambada rings merrily in loud doorbell-like chimes all around, giving the finishing touches to this particular hell.
And, as is generally true of hell, once you go in, you can't get out again! Sometimes because you're sausaged between two vans, which are blocking the passage totally, but mainly because this area of around 1 square kilometre is full of narrow twists and turns and however hard you try, you lose sense of direction totally and when you finally, oh finally, pop out into the sunlight again, it's somewhere you haven't a clue about and the helpful signs to the great mosque and citadel (the only points from which you can find back to the hotel) point straight back into the inferno. It genuinely took me a very very long hour to finally emerge at a place I recognized and it will be a cold day in hell (as the saying goes) before I rush in again!
Okay, so I was told today was especially crowded, since there is a holiday looming, but it was as crowded as any place I'm ever likely to be, unless I try to go round the black stone of Mecca during peak season.
For some reason loading images is not possible at the only internet cafe I've managed to find here, so it's going to be all words, until I can find some other place and get photos back on-line.
These very words should be carved onto the gates of Aleppo's famous covered maket, or souq. I don't think I have ever, in my entire life, felt quite so claustrophobic as I did today in the souq!
Keeping up the Dante's Inferno alanlogy for a while, you could say that on the first level of souq there are over enthusiastic salesmen, who will not take la shukran (no thanks) for an answer. Going on through to the second level of souq the air is starting to get definitely hot and stuffy, you're thirsty and the ONLY thing not on sale here is bottles of water. On the third level there are many, many, many fellow-sinners, a humongous rush and crowd that presses in on all sides, level four is full of salesmen pushing carts full of nuts, cotton bales or such around at incredible speed and not minding whose heels they clip as they push through the crowd, level five of souq is bringing out the big guns - delivery vans pressing into the crowd - both ways! - in places that are absolutely too narrow to accommodate them, and with an impressive disregard of the milling crowds around them, level six being the carbon monozide and exhaust fumes that these vans freely vent into the narrow, covered corridors, where it has no place to go, except into the eyes, nose and mouth of the crowd from level three. And the winner is: the Lambada! That catching tune from years gone past has managed to become the official alarm sound used in all Syrian (or at least Aleppan) vans when they reverse. And in the tight corners of the souq reverse they must. So the Lambada rings merrily in loud doorbell-like chimes all around, giving the finishing touches to this particular hell.
And, as is generally true of hell, once you go in, you can't get out again! Sometimes because you're sausaged between two vans, which are blocking the passage totally, but mainly because this area of around 1 square kilometre is full of narrow twists and turns and however hard you try, you lose sense of direction totally and when you finally, oh finally, pop out into the sunlight again, it's somewhere you haven't a clue about and the helpful signs to the great mosque and citadel (the only points from which you can find back to the hotel) point straight back into the inferno. It genuinely took me a very very long hour to finally emerge at a place I recognized and it will be a cold day in hell (as the saying goes) before I rush in again!
Okay, so I was told today was especially crowded, since there is a holiday looming, but it was as crowded as any place I'm ever likely to be, unless I try to go round the black stone of Mecca during peak season.
For some reason loading images is not possible at the only internet cafe I've managed to find here, so it's going to be all words, until I can find some other place and get photos back on-line.
Comments
Varmaan harmittaa...
I hope they at least sell decent coffee in the local internet cafes even if computers are so-so :)