Tea and a haircut
Syrian people are astonishingly friendly!
I discovered this as soon as I came into the country. After crossing over from Turkey, I got left off the bus in Aleppo at the side of a busy road. I had a map of sorts, but that didn't help much, since I didn't have a clue where I was (or even if I was) on this map. I though this could be a perfect time to cut corners and just take a taxi to the hotel. The problem turned out to be that I couldn't find a taxi that would understand where I wanted to go. It's a pretty empty feeling standing clueless by the roadside in a new country.
But behold, within seconds a heavenly band of locals gathered round to stare uncomprehending at the map, discuss my dilemma in arabic and generally stand by me in my hour of need and have a good time while they were at it. Happily one elderly gentleman turned up eventually, who actually spoke English and could even decipher the map to discover where I was going. Did he just point me on my way? No, he walked me to the hotel's doorstep - a full kilometre at least.
The same sort of helpfulness has abounded here throughout my stay. And the hospitality also.
Today I was walking down a street with a South African girl I met at the hotel, when I stopped to take a photo of a hairdressing saloon, which looked nice and decorative. As I did so, the door popped open and the owner of the establishment, a very sweet 51-year old gentleman barber beckoned us in for some tea. He was enthusiastic that I had been taking photos of the location, since he had had his shop there for 25 years already. We were duly shown photos from the 50's of a hotel building that had previously existed by his shop, told about his barbering career, which had taken him to Italy and France as well as various cities in Syria, our nationalities were discussed (South Africa = Nelson Mandela, Finland = Nokia to the locals) - all this done without a language in common.
I discovered this as soon as I came into the country. After crossing over from Turkey, I got left off the bus in Aleppo at the side of a busy road. I had a map of sorts, but that didn't help much, since I didn't have a clue where I was (or even if I was) on this map. I though this could be a perfect time to cut corners and just take a taxi to the hotel. The problem turned out to be that I couldn't find a taxi that would understand where I wanted to go. It's a pretty empty feeling standing clueless by the roadside in a new country.
But behold, within seconds a heavenly band of locals gathered round to stare uncomprehending at the map, discuss my dilemma in arabic and generally stand by me in my hour of need and have a good time while they were at it. Happily one elderly gentleman turned up eventually, who actually spoke English and could even decipher the map to discover where I was going. Did he just point me on my way? No, he walked me to the hotel's doorstep - a full kilometre at least.
The same sort of helpfulness has abounded here throughout my stay. And the hospitality also.
Today I was walking down a street with a South African girl I met at the hotel, when I stopped to take a photo of a hairdressing saloon, which looked nice and decorative. As I did so, the door popped open and the owner of the establishment, a very sweet 51-year old gentleman barber beckoned us in for some tea. He was enthusiastic that I had been taking photos of the location, since he had had his shop there for 25 years already. We were duly shown photos from the 50's of a hotel building that had previously existed by his shop, told about his barbering career, which had taken him to Italy and France as well as various cities in Syria, our nationalities were discussed (South Africa = Nelson Mandela, Finland = Nokia to the locals) - all this done without a language in common.
As we sat sipping our tea the original crew of the owner, his sixteen year old apprentice with one young customer having his hair straightened (as opposed to curled) grew in strength. Telephone calls were made. Friends of the owner and the 16 year old boy materialized mysteriously. More calls were made. The English-speaking son of a friend turned up to translate. Passers by from the street popped in - photos were taken - complimentary haircuts were offered and refused - there was a general air of great festivity about the place.
When we finally left after several cups of tea, the whole crew came out into the street to see us off and wave goodbye.
Today I arrived in the town of Hama, renowned for it's water wheels. Apparently there is a serenade of Hama's creaking ancient wooden water wheels, which is known throughout the Middle East and this makes Hama a tourism hot spot. It's a pleasant enough little town, but the wheels are nothing much to sing about if you ask me - they don't even work any more - just mock dummies on display. However tomorrow I am off to Crac de Chevalier, the best preserved Crucader castle in the world. Hopefully that will be worth a serenade or two.
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