Sunday, July 22, 2007
On the subject of non-controversial posters seen around Damascus, I bring you...well, YOU.
I saw this on a side-street near Sahet Arnus. It makes (slightly) more sense when you can see the shop itself. Apparently, this business will put a picture of you (who else?) inside of a crystal block.
From the 5-o'clock shadow to the delicate placement of the model's (or, more likely, the shopowner's brother-in-law or something's) hands, there is nothing not to love about this bizarre advertisement.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
My contribution to the discussion is below. Feel free to comment here, but keep in mind that leaving your comments on Creative Syria's page will offer more of a contribution to the discussion as a whole.
In my opinion, the most essential change that needs to be made right now is that
If you had told me two years ago that there would be a KFC in
It’s true that these kinds of businesses often provide stable, well paying jobs, often for women. And American fast-food restaurants may very well give a boost to the economy and increase the perceived convenience factor for foreign tourists.
But the first two benefits can be achieved through other means, and the third may actually deter as many travelers as it attracts. Certainly, more traditional Syrian restaurants (and other types of businesses) can – and should - offer positions to women. And the kind of traveler who comes to
Where else in the world today is there such a place without a McDonald’s, Hardee’s, or Pizza Hut to destroy its enchanting atmosphere? Granted, I know there are other countries without American fast food, but that is just one of the things that makes
Some may counter that the introduction of Western fast-food establishments to
Perhaps I’m just being selfish. I will admit that in many ways, I want
If they must come – and I realize that eventually, they probably will – at least let them try to fit in with the aura of the city. Villa Moda recently opened a branch in
So go ahead: open up more jobs for women, more businesses to drive the economy, and free up some of the state controls. But don’t use American fast-food restaurants to accomplish these things – they’ll stab you in the back every time.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
A big, but probably extremely light, load. My best guess is that these will be cut into mattresses. I know all we ever slept on in Damascus were foam pads like these.
Here is a truck containing bottles of ghaz - fuel for the stove. This must be a distributor truck that delivers the goods to the smaller Suzuki trucks. The Suzuki trucks (kind of like the one in the top photo) then putt around the neighborhood with smaller loads. There is always one guy driving and one guy sitting in the bed of the truck, banging on the cans with a wrench and yelling "ghaaaaaaaaz! ghaaaaaaaaaz!" at the top of his lungs. Ostensibly, this system is great because when you run out of ghaz while cooking a meal, you can easily run out and get more. In real life, however, mostly you just end up being annoyed at the noise. The price we pay for convenience, I suppose.
I spotted this strange load in the traffic circle east of Sheikh Saad. If you look closely, you'll see a pickup truck with a water storage tank in the back of it. To keep it steady, there's a guy riding in the back with it. The water storage tanks generally go on the roof of the apartment building. Sometimes, you have two tanks, and one of them is in the basement. If you run out of water from the roof storage unit, you can pump up spare water from the basement storage unit. In theory, anyway. We ran out of water on occasion in Damascus, but I don't think we had a basement unit, on account of the fact that our building didn't really have an empty basement.
Who says you need a U-Haul truck when you're moving? This is a version of the truly ubiquitous Suzuki truck I mentioned earlier. They have extremely small cabs and not very much power, but they certainly have maximum truck bed space. This is the functional vehicle in Syria. We used one to move into our apartment in Damascus. A friend of ours got turned away from entering Jordan at the border and hitched a ride late at night back to Damascus in one (driven by a total stranger and filled with others in his same predicament, I might add. And also free of charge).
I'm not sure what is inside the bags in this gigantic pile. At first glance, I thought it might be bags of bags, perhaps fresh in from a harvest of the land near the highway (it's always strewn with cast-off plastic bags). Upon closer inspection, however, I think it might be something more substantial. It can't be too substantial, though, because even by creative Syrian standards, I don't think this truck could handle too heavy of a load.
Keep a clear eye on the roads of Syria - you just never know what you might see.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
But have you heard the call to prayer as rendered by Miriam Damascus?
That's right - "muezzin" has been added to her repertoire of sounds, alongside "cat," "dog," "fire truck," and "yellow car."
Thursday, June 14, 2007
I have a love/hate relationship with Jesr ar-Rais (The President's Bridge). On the one hand, I've spent hours of my life in this place, waiting for, boarding, or exiting some form of public transportation. Jesr ar-Rais has always gotten me where I've needed to go. It's an "all roads lead here" kind of place - not too far from downtown, the Old City, Baramkeh, or the University of Damascus. Plus, it's conveniently located off of Autostrad. It is the very symbol of an efficient, thriving public transportation system.
On the other hand, Jesr ar-Rais is like a neverending shabaab convention. If you're going to survive a trip across it, whether over or under, you have to steel yourself against being eye candy for the masses. There are also sundry messes you have to pick your way through, and I don't mean just lane after lane of services and busses coming and going suddenly, spitting out exhaust as they do so. There are also vendors hawking their wares, and snack salesman camping out with huge vats of hot corn-on-the-cob.
There's the pile of trash that has inexplicably gathered at the bottom of the high-traffic staircase to the top.
But the scariest hazard of all is that red van that sometimes pulls up near the west end and somehow brings a cloud of bees with it. Yes, actual bees. I have never been able to figure out what this red van's purpose is - I always just make sure to stay as far away from it as possible.
To take a peek under Jesr ar-Rais is to catch a glimpse of the bustling industry of the people of Damascus. Everyone is coming or going, setting off for work or finally done with errands for the day. Services and busses line up in (mostly) orderly fashion before scattering around the city on their various routes.
It was an unfulfilled wish of ours to make a master map for the service routes. The key to the plan was to find out where services sleep at night, something we were never able to discover.
Services are a marvelous thing. They're not unique to Syria, but the service drivers of Damascus have the execution of their task down to an art. You can ride for as long (or as short) as you like for only 5 lira, and the driver even makes change without taking his eyes off the road, at least not for long. Services will pick you up and drop you off just about anywhere along their route. Sometimes, the driver or fellow passengers will even orchestrate a shuffle in seating so that women (especially veiled women, but not only veiled women) and men don't have to sit next to each other. If you have a small child with you, you can always count on help loading him/her in and out of the service.
Enhanced services feature a door that opens by a control from the driver, and sometimes creative lighting within the vehicle for interesting evening rides. There was one service in particular that ran the Vilaat Garbiye route - we called it "service of the night" because it featured a dark blue van color (instead of boring white), fluorescent lights inside, fancy headlights outside, several different deluxe horn sounds, and stickers and fringe all over. Whenever we were lucky enough to catch it, we rode with satisfaction as other service drivers hailed the driver of the "service of the night" and expressed their admiration.
From looking at the surface of the bridge, you wouldn't think so much is going on underneath.
But believe me: there is tons going on down there.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Plus, they're fun.
Also, I take issue with the claim that these kinds of pictures are only on pro-Assad people's cars, homes, shops, etc, as well as the claim that they're all government made (however, it is true that most of these excerpted photos are probably from such sources). But if you try to tell me that "the government" produced a sticker of Bashar al-Assad with his wife and kids surrounded by a superimposed rose garden and encircled by a gaudily pink glitter heart (such a sticker is in my actual possession), and then chose to distribute it to the public by having a guy selling it and others like it on Jesr ar-Rais, then I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. There has to be a market for such things in order for them to be (so shoddily and kitschily) produced - and I don't think it's necessarily a statement of full support (or fear!) of the regime for someone to buy one.
Politics (mostly) aside, I bring you a few more pictures from around Syria.
This poster is hanging next to the entrance to the Souq al-Hamadiyye, not far from the statue of Salah ad-Din. It says, "God will protect Syria."
My only regret about this picture is that it's so blurry, because it has one of our favorite posters on it. Do you see Bashar in the picture above the bus? Then, do you see the ghost of his father hanging out over his shoulder? Even if the symbolism was unintended, it's brilliant.
There is also a poster we used to see in many places that actually had a picture of the heads of Hafez, Basil, and Bashar, kind of floating on a black background. We used to call this one (irreverence alert!) the Trinity. You know: father, son, and holy ghost.
Here is a sign celebrating Bashar's recent win in the election. That's all I will say about it.
This is actually a gorgeous mural not far from the road to Baramkeh. I think there is a similar, bigger one in the Panorama museum, but that one focuses more on the diverse peoples of Syria. This one has a few of those elements, but also some representations of events in recent history. See, for example, the dam built with Soviet cooperation in the north of Syria.
I think this one takes the cake. What more needs to be said about a cult of personality than that there exists on the road outside of Aleppo a giant picture of Bashar al-Assad's head? And that it's not even a flattering picture? (It's almost as bad as the one of Hafez that's hanging up in the border crossing areas, where he looks like he's suffering from a bad case of rosacea.)
I heard that Bashar himself actually requested that people not display photos of him or his family, presumably in order to stop the image worship that started with his father. I wonder if this was the photo that spurred that request. If so, I don't think I blame him.
Monday, June 11, 2007
But Syrians love to honor their leaders as individuals. Representations of Hafez, Bashar, and even Basil al-Assad, in many different forms, can be found all over the country. Here are a few examples found in Damascus.
Can you find Hafez in this photograph? Hint: he's larger than life and on top of a tall building. And he probably lights up at night.
This one says it all. I suspect the heart lights up at night, too, though whether the lights are white or red (or if they flash in alternating patterns) is anyone's guess.
Here is a more stately tribute to Bashar - no aviator sunglasses here.
Old posters of Hafez have nearly peeled themselves off of this wall. He died seven years ago - have the posters been up since then? (I just checked and it was seven years ago exactly yesterday.)
Another classy tribute, this time adhered to the window of a service. It is not unusual to see entire rear windows of vehicles dedicated to Bashar al-Assad and his family. And by 'family,' I literally mean his wife and children. Often, they are depicted as being on holiday in either the Swiss Alps or in a sunny, beachy location. Oddly, both pictures feature the same pose.
I have a few more examples to post later. Unfortunately, we were unable to photograph any of the afore-mentioned holograph-Bashar-in-aviator-sunglasses. Fortunately, we have one on our car back in Tucson, though it's not as large as many I've seen.
To be continued...
Sunday, June 10, 2007
The service (vilaat gharbiye) I used to ride to work drove past this mural every day. And even in a whole year of living in
As best as I can figure out, it has something to do with
Even if the contents of the mural were, by some miracle, explained to me by someone, one mystery remains: what are kids doing drawing pictures of soldiers shooting at people on a public wall?
It makes only slightly more sense than this (which, if I remember correctly, was actually staged) (it's Israeli children writing messages on missiles destined for Lebanon during the conflict last summer).
Can anyone figure this out better than I’ve been able to?
Friday, June 01, 2007
**Edited to add: The artist is Puppeteer, which explains the last item in the graphic. Thanks for the tip, Golaniya!
This is a pretty accurate representation of many of the kinds of hijab you will see in Syria.
For my take on the veil in Syria, read Hijab Envy 1 and Hijab Envy 2.
The only version I really notice is missing from this depiction is just plain 'manto.' This is my favorite style - it's like 'manto sport' but with a plain white hijab and a classier version of the trenchcoat. I maintain that if I ever took on the veil, this is the style I would choose (am I allowed to do that?).
And if anyone gets the last one, let me know. My friends and I are stumped (actually, not anymore. See above!).
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Squeeze is a sickeningly sweet, Tang-like powdered beverage that you’re sure to be served if you visit a Syrian friend during the summertime. I have no problem with their product – it’s their advertising campaign that disturbs me. This is their “mascot:”
Yes, a mustachioed, smarmy Egyptian dressed in Hawaiian style is the face of Squeeze in the Arab world. I was more inclined to buy Squeeze before I saw this billboard and its accompanying TV commercials.
Speaking of smarmy, here is my all-time favorite Arab mascot. It’s Uncle Chips!
I think the question here is not so much “would you buy chips with this guy’s image stamped on the package,” but “would you allow this man to be in the same room as your kids,” don’t you think?
The best part is that in Jordan, there is a brand called Mr. Chips. And the mascot Mr. Chips, by all appearances, is a law-abiding, well-dressed, upstanding member of the community. Why his slimy brother can’t keep his act together (or at least shave off the dirt ‘stache) is beyond me.
The last mascot I’ll show you is another snack brand (in case you haven’t noticed already, the Arabs take their snacks very seriously). Here’s another chip mascot, Mr. Corn:
I don’t know what it is about Mr. Corn that I find so amusing. Maybe it’s the apparent lack of inspiration involved in its design, or perhaps its childish rendering. In any case, he looks like he’s way overdue for a makeover.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Let me tell you about Charlie.
He lost his leg when he stepped into traffic and was hit by a car years ago, but that’s not the most interesting thing about him.
If you ever go to Baramkeh, a major transport hub in Damascus, you might meet him. He hangs out there most days – maybe even every day. Every time we’ve gone to Baramkeh at the start of a trip to Jordan or Lebanon, he’s been there.
The first time I met him was as we were setting out on a trip to Irbid, Jordan in September of 2004. As our small group of travelers was standing around waiting for our service taxi, I heard someone call out, “Hey, blondie!” I had been subject to a lot of different catcalls from strange men on the streets of Damascus, in both English and Arabic, but until now, “hey, blondie” had not been one of them.
Our small group of travelers turned around to see Charlie. He loped towards us and continued talking in English. “Whatcha doin’ out here, eh, fellas? You’re a heckuva long way from the States.”
You see, Charlie speaks a very rare and rudimentary form of English. He spent several years working for the American navy in Lebanon during the 1960s. And as you may have guessed, that’s where he learned English. His speech is made up entirely of 1960s military slang, and it hasn’t changed or evolved in the 40 years that have passed since then.
The Wednesday before last, we showed up at Baramkeh to get a ride back to Jordan. We were waiting outside the service taxi as usual when suddenly I heard, “Hey, blondie!” Only this time, I think he was talking to Miriam. And this time, we made sure to get a picture.
And so he hangs out at Baramkeh calling the girls “darlin’” and the boys “buddy.” A conversation with Charlie is so bizarrely out of place in Damascus, Syria, that after it’s over and you’re driving away toward wherever, you’re not quite sure it really happened.
Charlie says he doesn’t have a job, but I think he does – it’s entertaining (and probably helping many of) us tourists and reminding us, in case we’d forgotten, that everything in Syria is a surprise.
And if that is his job, at least he’s very good at it.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
We came here a lot when we lived in Damascus, and the waiters often gave us the Arabic menus. Our favorites were the soups and the Arabic dips (I think little in-utero Miriam subsisted almost entirely on Siwar’s baba ghanouj). Sometimes, however, we were given the English menus, and that was always a special treat. And today I bring you something obtained at great peril to my personal sense of shame at being caught taking a photograph in public: a picture of that menu.
This is a newer version of the menu we remember. They removed a few items (no more “local nuggles”) and corrected a few of the more egregious errors (“gordon bleu,” for example). Bizarrely, however, new errors were somehow introduced to items that were previously correct. We spent a few minutes deliberating, and we think that our old favorite, “steak with lemon juice and garlic” is now “slices with citric acid and garlic.”
Miriam Damascus with a hummus mustache
Other highlights include “spinal cord pane” (I wonder if that’s like the “juicy pain” they give you on the Aleppo-Damascus train?), “tongues salad,” and “Spresso.”
For the record, we had baba ghanouj, hummus with meat and pine, and vegetable soup. It was delicious, unlike those nasty local nuggles.
One of these areas was the Souq Saroujah (?) near the Old City. To tell the truth, this Souq was always a mystery to me. It had the highest “unsightly hell-hole” to “proximity-to-major-tourist-destination” ratio that I’ve ever seen. Although it was technically a souq, it was not one of those charming bazaars full of atmosphere you would hope to find so near the Old City. Instead, it was a filthy, abrasive market where the vendors overcharged you for bananas.
The other place where we noticed an improvement was our very own Sheikh Saad. First, they took down the derelict wall near the traffic circle so that the small park there is visible from the street. Also, the mosque is finally complete. They put in a median with trees and some off-street parking (!). Finally, they removed the “tire district,” as we used to call it (it was actually a group of car repair garages), and put grass and trees in its place.
Whoever was in charge of making that particular decision deserves a medal. The tire district was a blight on Sheikh Saad – those car repair shops attracted large groups of leering shabaab, were the source of annoying sudden loud noises, and took up all of the sidewalk and half the street so pedestrians were forced to walk in traffic.
The only other big changes I noticed were that there is, in fact, a KFC in Damascus. I had heard this before, but I refused to believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. I sincerely hope that other fast food chains do not follow. Where else in the world today is there such a large city – nay, an entire country – without a McDonald’s, Hardee’s, or Pizza Hut to destroy its enchanting atmosphere? OK, I know there are other places without American fast food, but that is just one of the things that makes Damascus so unique and authentic. Because how foreign can a country really be when you can still biggie-size a burger and fries, or be sure of a clean public restroom? Not very, in my opinion.
Also, Amideast is closed. I have no idea of the story behind that one, but it makes me sad.
Otherwise, Damascus seems to be much as it ever was. And that is a wonderful thing.