Middle East Trip: Day 8 Part 2

Day 8 Part 2

Mohammed did a wonderful job getting us back to Damascus in time. On the way we discussed with he and Victor how we all had misconceptions about each others culture, that Victor thought all Americans were stuck up and Mohammed thought all American women were promiscuous. Of course I had misgivings about security, believing I would not be able to leave the group while in Syria for fear of being kidnapped. As we head back in Mohammed points out a shepherd with his donkey tending sheep just a few hundred yards off the road, a scene that might not have changed for centuries; but then again, he might have a cell phone and laptop under his blankets for all I know.

We also make arrangements for Mohammed and his brother to take us to the airport at nine the next morning and he drops us off by one of the old city gates near to St Ananias’ house. We get there just before 7 and pay our 25 S.P. and the attendants graciously keep it open a bit late to give us time. There is a small church in the basement. Ananias apparently became the head of the Christians in Damascus, a position which eventually cost him his life. But somewhere back in time his home became a church and it has been restored and rebuilt several times over the years. It is situated right on Straight Street. It was humbling to think that Paul and other early believers moved in that area although undoubtedly the street is much changed over time. Touring the site did not take long but Rodney, Carol, Marsha and Angela began singing in the chapel, which is actually underground, and we all gravitated into the room with them. Other believers wandered in as well, and we sang a couple of hymns, including Amazing Grace, in English, and then V, H and the others sang a couple of hymns in Arabic. It was a sweet time of worship. Afterwards we chatted briefly with some missionaries from Jordan and their Lebanese helper. It was her first time to visit Syria and she remarked how she had overcome her prejudice of Syria, born of political intrigue. This was becoming a common theme of the trip.

Victor and the two brothers left us afterwards and we headed back to the monastery with H; just a couple of blocks away I spotted a hooka shop but found no shop-keeper. The man next door spoke excellent English and said he would be back shortly, that he stayed open until 3 a.m., so I planned to return to get a pipe for Neil and Zahra. At the monastery we had a brief time of debriefing concerning our trip where our love and gratitude for each other was most evident. Then Rodney, Carol, Amanda, Jonathan, Marsha and I walked back down towards Ananias’ house to eat dinner at Casa Blanca. On the way I made contact with the hooka shop owner and after a little bargaining on my own, settled on a price to pay when I came back from dinner, about $11 US.

Even our dinner that night was special. I ate light, just onion soup, to keep my fragile stomach happy but still it was excellent. The restaurant was almost empty but for us; nearby was a Syrian couple. But they had live entertainment; a quite gifted musician/singer was playing an ode. We had a great time kidding with him and restaurant staff and the lady sitting near us with her husband almost collapsed with laughter. The restaurant staff brought us a tray of fresh fruit as a gift after dinner. We left happy and full.

I picked up my hooka on the way back and after depositing it in my room, I headed out for one last shopping expedition. I wanted to get some sandals for Eric and myself. I knew it was late but didn’t realize just how late it was: well after midnight. A lot of shops were already closing since we were in the Christian sector but I saw some lights on about a block away. I headed towards them, walking actually in the street with traffic, as is the custom. Down one alley a folk dancing party was in full swing. Lots of young people were out and about. At no time did I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. The shops I came to sold food and clothes but no footwear. Looking to my right I saw some more lights a half a block away and thought I would give them a try before giving up. I did not want to wander too far from the monastery because the streets in Damascus are more like a maze than anything else. Sure enough, there was a leather shop. The shop owner was just closing up but he spoke a little English. He only wanted 300 S.P. per sandal which is less than $7 US. I thought briefly about bargaining for two for 500, but thought of all the modest surroundings I had seen and the fact I was in the Christian sector and way off the beaten shopping path, and it just seemed like it would be insulting. So with a hand shake and a smile we sealed the deal and I left one pair on my feet for the walk back to the monastery, happy to finally have on a different pair of shoes from the trail shoes I had been wearing for eight days. A quick shower and brief chat with Jonathan who had also gone exploring and we called an end to one of the most extraordinary days I have ever lived.