The third and final set of pictures of Damascus. I am exalted at the near taste of freedom from uploading pictures and trying my patience but good things do come to those who wait, some times. To pick up from where we halted yesterday, the following group of shots were taken in Abu El Ezz restaurant. The first one shows two young men making food, and you can actually see the door from which you enter the vast multi-storey premises to the left of the food-makers.

Two views inside the restaurant, and one from the window right by where I was seated.

Again with the streets of Damascus, the first picture shows a man who makes fixing shoes his profession, and the other features two boys cleaning shoes, I presume, and one of them is having a sandwich while he’s at it.

I loved the facade of this building, I am not sure why. It seemed very real and very beautiful. Next to it is an old door in a very narrow street, you can see the shadow of the bus and a man walking past the door; that’s additional relish for you.

People going about their daily business, how real they seem as opposed to the worn-out images we see in the news.

Finalmente, “Al Qaryeh” restaurant where I had my lunch. The place was very nice and the weather absolutely pleasant - the food was not that good though. It was cold and I did not really enjoy it that well because I was already semi-full. Nonetheless, it was a good stop.

This concludes “A day in Damascus” series, I would’ve preferred to post all the pictures in one entry but that was an impossibility given the current state of the machines I operate. At all costs, I hope those pictures would give a “human” face to the people in Syria, and I certainly hope you enjoyed them.

Bringing you the second set of pictures shot during the past weekend in Damascus -Syria. I finally managed to gather some extra energy to post this, and to upload the pictures you are about to see. To complain about my PC and internet connection is really such a redundant fit, therefore I won’t do it.

This coming set of three was shot at “El Ezz” restaurant, also known as “Abu El Ezz”. This is probably my favorite location in the whole city of Damascus, alongside another restaurant. The food is amazing, the atmosphere magical, and the place just reeks of culture and art. I have always been accustomed to visiting it at night, they offer splendid entertainment; a live band playing Arabic tunes on real Arabic musical instruments, a singer who always seems to be high, people who are willing to volunteer for enchanting the public with their dancing, and loads upon loads of tourists, and all this is very affordable.

Now for some pictures from Souk Al Hamedeyye.

A hand-less bride model, is that very twisted or am I imagining things? Shirts and tops for very little money, and hand-made fridge magnets.

The following picture was also taken in Souk Al Hamedeyye. The interesting bit about it is that it is part of a series of similar signs, available in multiple languages and put up high above the heads of the crowds in the tunnel that is the Souk. It calls upon the Lebanese not to listen to a said Waleed Jinblat, and not to antagonize Syria. Politics, I would rather not have my fix while shopping.

I seem to enjoy shooting heaps of slippers, I find them so intriguing and so mass-production-isque. Some of them are really cheap stuff though.

Finally, a street in the Syrian capital.

More pictures are coming, once I manage to trick the machine into performing for me. Patience is virtue.

Since a promise remains dead until you enact it, I am sharing some of the pictures I took during my very brief visit to Syria this past Saturday, March 11th. I would be glad if they find your liking.

The first two pictures are what could be seen through the window next to my seat in the bus. For those who don’t know this, it usually takes up to four or five hours to get to Damascus from Amman. In some occasions the trip takes a bit longer due to border paper work and such, Jordanians do not need a visa to visit Syria, which is why so many of them go there very often. In this trip I only went to Damascus, the city itself. The pictures are in no particular order.

This is the door of a very famous and old ice cream shop in the traditional Souk Al-Hamedeyye (Souk means market). This place is well-deserving of its reputation, I simply love the Arabic ice cream they make at “Bikdash”. This is a picture of my share, yum yum!

Then a view of an angel of this long tunnel-like Souk, it is a living gala, always bustling with life. And a gold shop’s window, very similar to what we have in Jordan.

The entrance of the Souk and another look into its depths.

I think this building in the next image is a court of some sort, I am not sure though. My personal favorite picture is the ultimate one, a simple shop selling all things China-made captured from above, near Baramkeh station.

Apology is due for the readership that has been quite patient with me after the improper interruption in the life cycle of this box. I found it difficult to write something “appropriate” and cohesive with my last post, and therefore I decided to go to Syria for one day. The two things are not really logically connected but the brief visit was a joy.

And this place is up and running again: expect pictures and an account of events, soon.

Dear Amto,

It’s been three long years since I last saw you or spoke to you. This time has been the hardest because you were not here; I know you know that very well but I know it wasn’t your choice to leave this world. It was too sudden, don’t you think?

Because this is a special day, I decided to write you a letter. You are probably not expecting this, maybe you want me to visit your grave on this anniversary but that is too hard, it hurts too bad Amto, so please accept this letter and give me some time to get accustomed to the idea of your humble abode.

Do you remember our last phone call? I have to tell you I was not going to answer. I knew you dialed my number by mistake, as you used to, but maybe it was divine providence that wanted us to have a final chat that morning, and I answered. Sometimes I think of the way I would have felt if I hadn’t answered your call, and later on in the day knew you ceased to be in this physical world. That would’ve been so horrible, I would’ve never forgiven myself for it.

And then that night I was up and I got another call telling me you died.

Maybe I sound really shallow when I say this but I still expect to see you here. That night I didn’t cry, I helped mom reach dad because he was away. It was such a grave shock that I was numb and I was going about talking and doing things just like I used to, it hadn’t sunk in yet.

Someone has your fridge magnets now, but it’s someone you love so she’s taking care of them. I remember how much fun I would have teasing you by playing with them, and we all remember how much you hated it when someone touched your fridge magnets. Now they’re safe, I don’t play with them anymore.

I never really intended for this letter to be so sad but I guess that’s not something I can control. I have another bit of news for you, but I know you won’t like it. I don’t go to your home anymore. Ever since you passed away all things in that city, all the streets we used to walk, the shops we used to visit, the neighbors, and your house; they’re all too gray for me. Your house is empty now, all the tons of souvenirs you had are gone, the furniture is not there anymore, and the plants are dead. They died Amto; I think they missed you too much.

This may sound too hallmark-like to you but I remember you in everything I do. I sometimes even talk like you, and repeat your trademark words; they make me laugh. The days when I would wake up at 2 AM and find myself in tears don’t happen that often anymore, I stopped asking my family to “bring you back”, but sometimes I have the oddest most vivid dreams about you. I dream you were away in another country, and it is so real Amto I can’t tell you how real it is, and you come back and live like you used to. I never dream and know it, but the dreams involving you I never forget. It’s funny and a little scary to think I really tried calling you after you died, I really did. I guess I really wasn’t buying it; maybe this whole thing is a farce anyway, right?

But leave all those things aside. How are you? I know you are in a better place because I know you deserved heaven right here on earth, but never got it. It’s natural for me to ask how you are although you’re dead to people, you’re never dead to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t love you because I don’t visit your house. I don’t visit it because it is not your house any longer, it is not the same place you lived in and it is so void without you. I loved all your things because they were related to you, and now that you’re gone they have lost their appeal. Don’t think I need only this date to remind me of you. I have your picture next to my bed, but not in my purse because it might get stolen and then I would feel so bad. Isn’t that the most childish thing you’ve ever heard of?

There is so much I want to say to you but I will leave it for later, you can read it in my diary, all of it. I want you to know, and I know you do, that I love you more than anything and that I will try not to let you down. You’ve always wanted a daughter and considered me your own, and there hasn’t been a time that I’ve been your daughter more than I am today. It never sunk in, Amto.

Love,
Tololy