Full circle

It was in Hama that I started having flashbacks to a David Attenborough documentary on the history of the human race and their interaction with their environment in this cradle of civilisation that is the Middle East. The huge water wheels of Hama was one of the striking images from the series that summoned memories from almost two decades ago, through the rather blurry filter that my long-term cerebral storage facility is blessed with. If only they made memory cards for your brain...

At any rate, the wheels are incredible - having a brilliant lunch of mixed mezzes in an open air restaurant by the river with two of these 14th century monsters groaning as they gracefully (and noisily) revolved I think goes down as one of the best meals of the trip.

Au revoir Damas

I'll leave Damascus with one last image, that of the interior of one of the great souks (markets). If the mosque is the heart of the old city, these are the veins along which flows the lifeblood of the city. Perhaps a little dramatic, but it's hard not to wax poetic about a place like this.

The holes in the roof, through which shafts of light stream down onto cloth sellers and spice stalls, are bullet holes, marks of the troubled history of the place. The souks themselves are divided into different areas according to the goods being sold, in the kind of ordered chaos which seems bewildering at first - until you commit yourself to getting totally lost amongst it, when simply becomes wondrous.

My memories of Damascus are extraordinarily vivid, even though half the time I spent there was in the throes of food poisoning ("Bedu Belly"). Of all the places visited during this trip, it's Damascus that has the greatest pull to return and see again - it's not a case of whether I'll be back, it's one of when.

Streets of Damas

Damascus is a city of hidden wonders - a street such as that above can hold any number of unexpected delights. Behind the bland appearance of many of the streets lie workshops (khans) and coffee houses (ahawi), turkish baths and mosques. The coffee house below is typical - a gorgeous courtyard, open to the elements except for a cloth sail which can be pulled over the block the mid day sun, full of locals and visitors - all enjoying strong black coffee or sweetened tea, perhaps with an argileh pipe, over which is dissected the day's finds and bargaining in the souks.

Arabian nights

While Damascus is a city with a huge amount of history, it is also a modern capital, and outside the old town is reminiscent of many others. The traffic through the roundabout, seen from the hill above the city (see reverse shot up the hill from our hotel below), is constant and completely manic - the road rules being something along the lines of "first in, best dressed".

Traffic regulations in general, or rather the observation of them, are what could be called relaxed (if you would agree that driving the wrong way down motorways is a reasonably casual approach). But as seems to be the case in so many countries with such driving habits, everyone seems a lot more relaxed towards one another on the road, despite the chaos - I'd wager the issue of road rage certainly hasn't made headlines in the Damascene dailies.

Artometric

To me, the beauty of Arabic art is in it's simplicity, and often in it's mystery - I have no idea what this was, standing in the courtyard of the Ummayad Mosque. Some kind of sun dial, the pattern of shadows it casts telling you the exact number of seconds until Ramadan (I'm SURE it's possible)? A medieval lightning rod?

Whatever it may be, I'm a huge convert to the Arabic manner of using geometry and pattern in the creation of art, which contrasts with the much less abstract representations typical of so many other cultures, particularly that most dominant one of the west. I'm not sure if Islamic law expressly forbids the depiction of individuals in religious artwork, but the mosques and palaces I visited are entirely, and refreshingly, free of any sort of portraiture or realism in their decorations. The only slight exception was the use of trees in the detail of facades, providing that brilliant combination of green and gold prevalent all over the muslim world.

Damascus!

Even the name sounds full of mystery and the promise of hidden beauty - and this is what Damascus is all about. The city has a very legitimate claim (as legitimate as it can be with so much history involved) to being the oldest constantly-inhabited in the world, and wears it in an amazing blend of the ancient and modern.

The Ummayad Mosque typifies all that is Damascene, and a lot of that which is Arabic - an austere, almost plain exterior counter-balanced by incredible internal elegance and beauty. The courtyard and interior of the mosque is exquisitely calm after the bustle of the souqs outside; a further contrast I couldn't help noticing is that between this place and those other great edifices of religion, the great cathedrals of Europe. While a cathedral is built to impress and almost awe it's visitor with it's solemnity, elaborateness and an almost oppressive quiet, this mosque, while exhibiting all the splendour, felt far more like a community gathering place. No altar, no seating, no specific pieces of art or iconry, and no pulpit from which an individual exerts their influence over the faithful.

No - here is a very public place to which people come for very private reasons. No-one seems unwelcome, despite the many different reasons they are there, and the sense of awe is arrived at through the subtle beauty and geometry of the building and the designs which adorn it.

Well I say no-one is unwelcome... However I think perhaps this woman could have been more impressed by my choice of camera angles. I think she has a point, I probably should have taken more care with making the lines of the mosque intersect with the frame corners a bit better. And that tower does look a bit wonky.

Black and blue

Umm Qais is an amazing place to visit - built on another stunningly preserved Roman town, Gadara. It was here, according to biblical legend, that a herd of swine ran into the Sea of Galilee, having had the demons named "Legion" transferred into their unfortunate piggy brains by an apparant miracle. I'm not sure the pigs would have entirely agreed with that particular classification of the event.

At any rate, you can see from this town the most incredible and literal vista of ancient and modern politics possibly anywhere in the world. From this hill you can look out across the sea around and upon which the most influential individual the world has known (ok, apart from Oprah) walked. Standing in Jordan, on your left lies Israel, on the right tower the Golan Heights, the Israeli-occupied buffer zone which is the focus of the ongoing war between that state and Syria.

Quite oblivious to all of this, the old city made of the marvellous local black stone lies, one of the most striking Roman relics of the region I've seen, as it has for thousands of years. Having existed through many such disputes, and even a few debatable miracles, it's kind of reassuring to know that whatever happens here over this century, places of immense tranquility such as this will exist here - a testament to the incredible tale that is human history, and a reminder that our problems today will one day be just another chapter.

Ah, the serenity

In the hills behind Petra, site of the "monastery" tomb seen a few posts ago, this was an unexpected marvel - a magnificent view over Wadi Haroun (Aaron Valley, so named for Moses' brother who is said to lie buried somewhere in the wasteland).

Note the lack of crowds - this is about as big a group of people as we saw around Petra.

Almost anywhere else in the world, such an incredible site as Petra would be overrun with hordes of sightseers; at the time we visited, we were lucky enough to share it with only several hundred, who were easily swallowed by this immense place. This was something of a theme of our trip; undoubtedly some of the most spectacular and interesting natural, social and historical locations I’ve visited, with none of the usual flood of westerners. This is thanks to the perceived instability and inaccessibility of the region; which I’m not here to dispel. Don’t visit. It’s mine.