Spent our days in Damascus shopping during the day and drinking at night. We’re constantly in a state of mild dehydration, so two beers is usually enough. Not ten minutes after Ruth complained that we weren’t meeting enough locals on our trip, a Syrian/French couple invited us over to their table. They had seen us earlier in the day at the spice shop, recognized us in a bar, and proceded to buy us drinks and shisha for the rest of the evening. At first I suspected international espionage, but they were really just a sweet couple wanting to practice english. We discussed the state of the fashion industry, married life, and even some politics, while serenaded by an oud/tambourine duo. It’s a shame that this country has such a bad international reputation, as the people are incredibly friendly.
Spent the next day in bed with the itis, which made me glad I sprang for the ensuite room with air conditioning. No Aleppo for us, just a logey day in Damascus. Ruth went out shopping, and brought me back some orange juice, which I dutifully drank and then promptly expelled. She was a good sport about it, though. Felt good enough by dinner time for a little walk around town, but it was soon time to retire. Back on my feet in the morning, so at least it was short lived.
Leaving Damascus, we met a man who called himself “one legged Charlie.” He was a guide for the US troops in Lebanon before their pullout in 1983, and spoke english with a rat-pack Chicago accent. Now he translates between tourists and cabbies at the bus station, bringing a smile to both sides and swearing like a sailor. If you’re ever in Damascus, look him up, and he’ll show you around town. No bullshit, daddy-o.
laurie levinger
Josh,
glad the itis was short lived. No bullshit, daddy-o.
love, mom
ps Hannah’s friend Alan is here from Brandeis. So–what else?–dinner for 12.