Day 10, 11, and 12

Now that I've waited so long to chronicle all our adventures, I truly cannot remember any more of the details. But, again, no one really cares. It's just the recounting of the stories that's important, right? What was most memorable about those last days in Damascus was our "hike" to the site of the first crime of humanity, that is, where Cain slew Abel (or in Arabic Cabil and Habil)!

We decided late in the afternoon to follow the directions that appeared in the June 2008 edition of the magazine, Syria Today, to find the "Cave of 40" way up in Jebel Kassioum, the mountain that acts as a backdrop to the city of Damascus. First off, we had to journey to a section of the city Dania had never ventured into before and, once there, we asked a young man if he knew which service to take in order to get to the base of the mountain. He was kind enough to walk us across the busy street, hail the minibus that passed by, and because neither of us had small change, even PAID for our ride!!! Again, there's that unbelievable Syrian generosity! So, we sort of arrived where we were supposed to be, but still knew that we needed somehow to go UP. Dania found a taxi driver who claimed for a certain number of lira he'd take us, only to find out that he would drop us at a point where he then arranged for some other guy driving a 2-seater truck to take us up the VERY narrow, winding road to the "top."

Now, first of all, it was a very small truck. So, Dania, who sat in the middle, was really cozy with our driver and with the stick shift......Second of all, we were going so fast and so vertically UP that I thought at times we'd never make it alive - HONESTLY! It was drizzling at that point and I kept worrying that the truck's tires wouldn't hold as we made those sharp turns up, up and farther up. But, finally, he got us up as far as he could go, and we thanked him for his skillful driving and hopped out. By this time, it must have been about one hour before sunset. So, we kept moving up by foot now through narrow alleyways of very old looking homes, until we finally made it to the beginning (!) of our real climb:



As you can see, this stairway seemed to go to heaven and maybe even beyond.....I almost felt as though we were at Yosemite doing some of those steep hikes with loads of cut backs (or whatever they're called so that you aren't climbing straight up all the time). I think I've read that there are over 600 steps, but it's got to be WAY more than that. Finally, though, we did arrive at the very top at a very unpretentious looking mosque, a building that apparently has been in existence for over 1000 years. It is at this spot that many, many religious figures have retreated for safety, reflection and/or prayer, to include Moses, Abraham, Mohammed and, of course, Cain and Abel.

This cave is called Raja Arbain (cave of 14 men). Fourteen prophets came to live in this cave over time. Many of these men were Sufi, others were Jews and some were Christians. Apparently, the distinctions between these religions were not so great as they are now.

This is a portion of the story of Adam wa Howa (or Adam and Eve). After bearing many children, Eve gave birth to a girl who grew to be very beautiful. God told Adam wow Howa that there should be no marriage between any of these siblings. But Kabil wow Habil (Cain and Abel) were both infatuated with this one sister. Adam suggested that they both make a sacrifice to God to see who should marry this daughter. Kabil was a sheep herder and he offered up to God a very large fat sheep. Habil was a farmer and he offered up a meager gift of wheat. When God accepted Kabil's sheep via a flash of light taking the sheep to heaven, Kabil became enraged and took up a large rock and killed Habil in the cave. (OK, some of this story doesn't quite hang together, but it must be because it's been passed down many, many times.....so bear with me here.)

Now at this very time, Adam and Eve were in Mecca and at the very moment of the murder Adam was drinking water that turned very bad. He knew that something was wrong and turned to his wife to tell her that there had been a death. She was unfamiliar with death, since this was the first death of all time.

Meanwhile back at the cave, the mountain shook for seven days. A portion of the cave's wall opened up to resemble a very large human mouth with tongue, as if in a scream! This formation is one of the first things the son of the Imam of the mosque showed us once we removed our shoes, put on the appropriate covering and entered the cave/mosque. He then informed us that, upon the Abel's murder, the Angel Gabriel came and lifted his hand up upon the roof of the cave. You really can see something that appears to be a hand print embedded in the rock there. Above the hand print, in a seam of the rock, is the word Allah in Arabic script.

The son then showed us where fleeing Christians had once hid out beyond this portion of the cave. Finally, he brought us out to the mosque itself and explained that Moses, Abraham, Jesus, Moses, Jacob, and many other prophets had prayed where we were standing. I'm not sure whether I believe all that he had to share with us, but then why not! Ousama has always claimed that Damascus was where the Garden of Eden was. So....

According to both the Bible and the Koran, Habil carried Kabil to Zabadan in the Lebanon mountains. He didn't know what do do with the body. On the way he watched one bird kill another. He then watched the surviving bird scratch out a grave and watched the bird cover it as well. He did the same to establish the first burial rite. Some of the above is pretty cobbled together, but you get the gist, right?

On our very short (since it was downhill) hike back home, we veered toward the right and ended up walking right into Dania's souq! Just before I realized where we were, I took this shot of an engraving on the side of a house. Its date is sometime in the 1300s!!!



That evening, I think, we took a LONG taxi ride out to the Palestinian refugee camps where Dania's Arabic tutor, Usra, lives with her young children and where she offers Arabic lessons to various Americans and British students. Wow, what a difference between Usra's apartment and anything I had seen in Damascus proper. Many of these refugee camps have been in existence since 1948 and then again others since 1967. And, boy, do they look like slums - maybe not so bad as what I remember the upper parts of Harlem were like in the 1970's, but BAD enough. Anyway, we had a lovely meal with the other students and their families who, like me, were visiting at Christmas time.

The next day, New Year's Eve, I finally had the opportunity to meet the Iraqi students Dania has been tutoring through the Iraqi Student Project.

But, even before our visit, we had to return one last time to the Journalist's Club so that Dania could coordinate her lesson for the Iraqis with another tutor. Once again, the management was profusely apologetic when Dania entered the room and comped us our tea! Maybe she can drag this out forever??

After all the coordination, we finally moved on to the ISP tutor room in what looked to me like a dilapidated old building within walking distance of the Journalist's Club. One by one, each student came in for their hour-long session with Teacher Dania.


After the formal portion of her lesson, each of the students asked me questions. I was sort of prepared for the "interview;" however, I wasn't really prepared for the political nature of so many of their questions. How would you answer the question of "What is the American dream" in basic English and in just a few minutes??? Anyway, during that short period of time, I realized that these kids were really good people who just happened to have been born at the wrong time in Iraq. Many of them have pretty sad stories Here's a video of what ISP is and who some of these kids are. I admire what they're trying to do in preparing themselves to qualify to study in the US and then to return to help their country rebuild itself. I also admire Theresa and Gabe, the two Americans who are responsible for ISP. They're pretty idealistic ex-hippies who saw a need in Damascus and have been trying to find full-ride scholarships for each and every one of these deserving people in the U.S. By the way, I also admire Dania for getting involved in this worthy cause!

So, on to the fun and games of New Year's Eve. We started off with a pre-dinner meal with Gabe and Theresa in their very funky place in what seemed to me the commerical part of downtown Damascus. Our contribution to the festivities there was a big bottle of Polo, that WONDERFUL lemon and mint drink. After putting in an appearance there, we hoofed it to the next celebration at one of Helena's UN friend's homes where they were barbecuing WONDERFUL lamb and where the wine was flowing. All I have to say is the Aussies, New Zealanders (they must have a nickname?),Swedes and Danes know how to drink. Then, the party moved on to the US Embassy's "club" in the basement of the building. It was almost like being back in college at a fraternity house: beer was flowing, music was way too loud and there were several big-screen TVs showing US football games! After about one hour, Dania and I both agreed that this was NOT where we wanted to see in 2009. But it was not before she and Helena had a bit of fun.


At this point, I don't remember how we got where we went next nor do I remember where we went. But, we ended up with a group of Dania's real friends, a mix of Europeans and Arabs who've been friends for a while now. It seemed way beyond midnight when the ball finally dropped, but it was a memorable evening way up in some high rise apartment building with a view of ??? What a blur!

While I don't remember how we returned home, I do vaguely remember waking up and regretting the fact that I'd have to leave my "little baby" that afternoon. But, I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and to some warmer weather (it had actually snowed on New Year's Eve up in the mountains!). So, I bucked up, packed up, and prepared for Dima's driver's arrival so that we could head out to the airport. It was about halfway out there that we saw the snow up in the mountains that separate Damascus from Lebanon. What a sight. I had left home with snow in our "mountains" and was leaving Syria with a similar sight.

What a way to spend the Christmas holidays! Dania's version of life is revved up so fast that her old mom can barely keep up, but she certainly knows how to have fun, with a little bit of drama thrown in! I thank her for our Seriously Syrian Escapade.

Day 9

This day was spent more or less relaxing and finishing up my shopping in the two souqs. One of the most memorable experiences we had the entire time occurred then. Dania had shown me two cigarette lighters that her Tasmanian friend had given her. They look like regular ones; however, they also function as “flashlights,” in that if you turn on the other end and point the lighter toward a flat surface in a darkened room, you see a projected photo, on one, of Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of Hezbollah in Lebanon, and, on the other, a photo of the chinless wonder, Bashar al Assad, fearless leader of Syria! When she showed me these lighters, I died laughing and knew that there were some people at home who would howl too! So, one of our goals in Souq Al Hamidiya was to find those suckers.

We must have gone from stall to stall with Dania using every word she could come up with to explain exactly what we were looking for. I think most of the young guys working at each wondered what the hell two Americans wanted with these “lighters.” Fortunately after about the fifth referral, we found our man and bought enough for all who’d appreciate them at home.

The souqs of Syria are pretty amazing just to wander through. They are organized by types of things sold – more or less; and I cannot for the life of me figure out how anyone would remember how to return to one particular stall, given the fact that the entire area is so cavernous. It runs 500 meters from east to west, starts near the city’s citadel



(a far cry from the really impressive one in Aleppo), and ends at the Roman archway just before the Umayyad mosque. Most of the souq is arched with iron ribs covered with corrugated metal. In places you can actually see the hundreds of bullet holes that were shot there during the turmoil with the French in the 1920s . It was apparently built on the site of an ancient Roman fortress, some of which you can see, during the Ottoman empire in the 18th century.
Dania’s recently met a British woman who claims to be mapping the souq . I like what she has to say about the entire area. It is pretty magical in its variety, sometimes its exoticness and other times its mundaneness – if those last two words are really words!

So, we were pretty much finished with shopping and had enough time to relax a bit before our dinner date with some of Julian’s roommates, Bridgette and Haidar, at the Journalist Club. It was pretty crowded this time when we arrived. But, of course, it was dinner time and not well after hours as before! I happened to notice, as we sat down, a group of four men right next to us; and the only reason I noticed them was that they had a full bottle of Johnny Walker Red and a full bottle of “red wine sweet” at their table. But, we got busy with our dinner and chats. At some point while we were just finishing up eating, one of the men rose from his table and started walking toward our table. All of a sudden, he fell right on top of Dania moaning something that sort of sounded like “Allah, allah.” Well, you can imagine my instinct…..I immediately hopped up, moved toward her to try to pull her (and her purse) out of under the tub-of-lard who was still moaning. My thought at the time was that the guy was having a heart attack! The waiters and bartender ran over and took him away so fast that things were “back to normal” before we really knew what had happened! Within a few more minutes, our waiter came back with profuse apologies and our bill that had been slashed in half! By that point, I had had the time to look over at the men’s table to see that all but about 2 shots of the scotch was gone and all the wine had disappeared. The guy was just drunk as a skunk!
It was funny when we returned the next day, after Dania realized that one of her earrings was missing. The nice men were still so apologetic and embarrassed over what had happened. I found the entire episode VERY funny, because Ousama had quite adamantly claimed that Dania would NEVER run into drinking problems in Syria!!!! I should have taken a photo of the club for posterity. Maybe, Dania, if you ever read this, you will for me!!!??

Day 8

Now, before I put up photos of what we saw, I have to explain what Crac des Chevaliers is or was. To be accurate, we should refer to it as "fortified architecture" that was built during the time of the Crusades by the Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem from 1142 to 1271. It literally means Castle of the Knights. Many consider it, along with Saladin's castle that's in between Aleppo and Latakia, as the best preserved examples of Crusader castles. It was built in a strategic location, the Homs Gap, sort of half way between Antioch, Turkey and Tripoli and, therefore, Beirut. In ancient times and then during the Crusades, to have control of that high point in the Anti-Lebanon mountains was to control the entire area. Whatever, it's a pretty amazing structure! Unfortunately, we didn't take or have the time after wandering inside to hike to some point for a really good overall view. So, what I just added gives you an idea of how imposing it is from the valley below.

When we woke in the morning, one of the first things I did (as I waited for Dania to wake up) was to go out on the balcony to see what we couldn't see the night before. The Wadi Al Nadara (Valley of the Christians) area and the actual village where we stayed, Meshtaye, first of all, is in stark contrast to what we saw the day before as we drove from Damascus to Palmyra and then on to the wadi. It was fertile, green and rain had actually fallen before we arrived! Plus, the view of Crac was pretty impressive. I had read somewhere that we could walk from the hotel to Crac; however, just looking up at where we’d have to go, I knew immediately that such a walk/hike was not in the cards for a half-day venture!

Once Dania roused herself, we headed again for the dining room for a typical Syrian breakfast: bread, cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, juice and coffee. Then, ready for another day of adventure, we first of all walked to St. George monastery of Homeyra that was about a mile slightly up the way from the hotel. That we could hike!

The establishment of the monastery dates back to the sixth century during the reign of Emperor Justinian. Many believe that "Homeyra" derives from the Greek word for "torrent," because the area is subject to torrential rains in the winter. Others believe that the monastery is built over the ruins of a pagan temple dedicated to the god “Homeyra." Whatever the truth is, what we eventually found, after going into the currently used sanctuary that dates from the 19th century, looked pretty old to me! The "new" church is considered to be on the "third" floor; but for our purposes it was on street level. A very kind monk guided us down to the 2nd and then 1st floors, the bottom of which was the original sanctuary and really just a cave with separate cells for the monks. I would imagine on a hot day, it would be THE place to be!

So, curious about who St. George was, I have done just enough research to know that he was born to a Christian noble family during the late third century between about 275 AD and 285 AD, in Lydda, Palestine. His father Geronzio was a Roman army official from Cappadocia and his mother from Palestine. They were both Christians and from noble families of Anici (which means "cannot be defeated").

When he was 14 he signed up to be a soldier in Diocletian’s army. At some point, after George made a name for himself in the army, Diocletian arrested all Christians to include George, who continued to profess his belief in Jesus. So, Dio had no choice and beheaded him along with all the others. As a martyred Roman Christian, he is the saint of various countries, two of which are England and Palestine.

His other claim to fame is the 11th century myth/legend of his slaying the dragon, a story that seems to have been brought back to Europe by the Crusaders: A dragon makes its nest at the spring that provides water for the city of "Silene" (modern Cyrene?) in Libya or the city of Lydda (now a suburb of Tel Aviv), depending on the source. The people of the city have to divert the dragon from its nest from time to time to collect water. So, each day they offer the dragon a sheep, and if no sheep can be found, then a girl must go instead. The victim is chosen by drawing lots. One day, the one chosen is the princess. The monarch begs for her life to no avail. She is offered to the dragon, but, lo and behold, George comes to her rescue. He faces the dragon, protects himself with the sign of the cross, slays it and rescues the princess. The grateful citizens abandon their ancestral paganism, convert to Christianity, and everyone lives happily ever after or at least until 1949…..if in fact this all occurred in Lydda. Anyway, many of the iconostasis (like that word? fancy, framed icon paintings) in the older part of the church are of him taking care of the dragon.

Satisfied with our early morning sojourn, we walked back to the hotel where we hopped a cab up the steep road to Crac des Chevaliers. Our driver had obviously driven up before, because he had no qualms about going pretty fast around the sharp turns in the narrow road and through what I considered to be pretty heavy pedestrian traffic in the village. We discovered, once we arrived, that the village down below Crac that we had just sped through was where the original inhabitants of Crac had been forced to move when the French came in to renovate the entire fortress in the early 1900s.

Like at Palmyra, we hired a guide to walk us through the entire fortress and explain what we were seeing. Walid was a very interesting man who couldn’t have been much older than 50, but who had the worst set of teeth I think I’ve ever seen! Perhaps he’d never been to a dentist in his life?? Plus, of course, smoking hadn’t helped. Anyway, he was knowledgeable about Crac because his grandparents and parents had lived there until forced to leave.

It’s such a massive structure that it housed an incredible number of horses and men (apparently no women were allowed until later and even then only in one particular tower). Wandering through the entire structure, Walid filled us in on its history, starting with the fact that Crac had been built on the side of an ancient fort called the "castle on the slope,” later to be renamed "the Kurdish castle" because a Kurdish garrison was built there in 1031 by the Emir of Homs. So, we started at that oldest spot with Kurdish architectural influence and moved throughout what I think was the entire interior fortress.






Both Nuraldin and his brother Saladin considered taking it during the Crusades, but, after giving it the once-over, realized that it was way too well fortified to be taken! In fact, it was only through trickery, during one of the last crusades, that the Mamluk, al-Zahir Baibars (or al-Malik al-Zahir Rukn al-Din Baybars al-Bunduqdari) assaulted it for a month with huge 600 kg stones before breaking into the fortress' outer perimeter. But even having broken through the outer wall didn’t work. They couldn't get all the way inside.

The 300 defenders inside had supplies for 5 years and they only finally gave in, in exchange for safe conduit, after being tricked by a forged letter from the count of Tripoli ordering them to do so. Trickery and lies were a part of war in those days as they were during the Bush administration. The only difference is that in those days leaders would lie to the enemy, not to their own people!

It was fun walking through the place pretending to be a damsel in distress. I’ll end our 4-hour stay at Crac with some photos, the funniest of which is Dania squatting in a deep hole that was used to store olive oil!







History really hit me right in the face as we walked up a steep staircase (that would NOT exist in the US without guardrails!) to where Richard the Lionheart looked out of his room window. This is what he saw:



- View directly below his window -



- View of the countryside down from Crac -


All in all, Crac des Chevaliers was pretty amazing. Since returning home, I have begun reading more about the Crusades, Netflixing good documentaries on the subject and especially about this area of Syria.


We had asked the taxi cab driver if he’d pick us up and then drive us to Homs so that we could take the bus back to Damascus. When Dania had first made these arrangements, I kept thinking to myself, “There’s no way this guy’ll show up and actually agree to drive us the 45 minutes to Homs for the small amount of money they had agreed upon.” Amazingly enough, as we descended the final steps over the drawbridge, there he was! This kind of thing happened a lot while I was in Syria.
The drive to Homs in daylight was great because it gave me an opportunity to see what we’d passed by the night before. Again, the area in between Damascus and Aleppo that includes Homs and Hama is so much more fertile and green than anything I remember from Aleppo and what surrounds Damascus. I guess it is equivalent to the central part of California – Syria’s breadbasket. Anyway, we made it to Homs and the bus depot and even boarded a bus within 20 minutes of having arrived. We had “entertainment” the whole way back to the capital: videos of what looked like old-time Syrian television on the lines of the Ed Sullivan Show. The other “impressive” thing about our bus trip was that we not only had a bus driver (dah!), but also an assistant who floated up and down the aisle initially serving water and then who knows what he did besides change the dvds. Seeing this young guy made me realize that in a “socialist” country like Syria, everyone has a job – no matter how trivial. Perhaps this also explains why the taxi cab driver was back to pick us up. He had nothing better to do with his time. So, why not go back up the steep hill, pick up the Americans, drive them to Homs, and practice his English along the way. He even offered us his business card when he dropped us. Turns out he goes to Beirut during the work week and comes home to his family on Thursday evening for the weekend.

By the time we arrived back in Damascus (after eating shawarma [thinly sliced lamb with “secret sauce,” pickles, and in this case even fried potatoes!, wrapped up in pita bread] at the bus station) we were ready NOT to be tourists for a while. I think it was that late afternoon that we walked up to Dania’s souq, bought some stuff for dinner and found a dvd “store” (it probably measured 2 feet wide by 6 feet deep AT MOST) as we walked around looking at other things. This place was amazing, because first-run movies at home were available for less than $5! We bought Milk and Burn After Reading, and that’s the way we spent that evening – having a quiet dinner and watching movies on Dania’s laptop!