What I imagined as a child and young man, then came to the false realization that didn’t exist, thrives in the heart of the Middle East. Old Damascus came to us as something of a revelation, not one as life- and world-altering as that had by my biblical namesake here, but still something that will change the way I view the world, as travel to somewhere so different and exciting, the discovery of something you did not previously know to exist, can. As a man on the street predicted with confidence on our first day in Damascus, “You will love it, and you will return.”
Alley scene in the old city
The sheer scale of the old city (the walls run for more than five kilometers), its historical continuity (the center of town has been occupied by a place of worship for over three thousand years, including a Roman temple, a Christian church and now the Umayyad Mosque–post to come) and its historical preservation (Roman streets are identifiable, including Straight Street which is mentioned by name in the bible, and the great majority of the old city lies in its medieval layout, with a minimum of truly modern architecture to distract the eyes)–each impresses the visitor. Here is not only a city that has persisted through the centuries, but a truly great city that has prospered through many empires. At the crossroads of the world, Damascus was the site of some of the most important events in history (and in the middle of some of its greatest conflicts), yet comes to us not as a museum piece but as a living city–bits and pieces destroyed and rebuilt, inhabited (it is really much too large not to be inhabited) and noisy with commerce.
Roman sarcophagus, National Museum
Cafe, old city
The greatest impression to us, coming from India, and despite our stop in the squeaky modern United Arab Emirates, was a real sense of civilization, fitting for one of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited cities: a sophistication in people’s behavior and lifestyle that is not present in South Asia (despite the wealth of Bombay’s elite and the richness of Indian culture, there is always the feeling that you are ten meters away from abject poverty and life at its rawest and most base) or the (overly nouveau riche) Gulf; restaurants and cafes the atmosphere and cuisine of which any world city would envy (extravagant yet tastefully so, elegant yet cheerful, and making full use of the city’s architectural endowments); and a timelessness in the dark narrow alleys and historical monuments that could come only from accumulation through the centuries, as empires and nations deposited their structures, people and ideas within the city’s walls.
Coffeeshop sign, old city
Children, walking among Roman arch east of Umayyad Mosque
This sense of civilization is nowhere more alive in Damascus than in its courtyard houses, or baits. Originally built by local merchants or governors during the Ottoman Empire, seemingly countless mansions exist throughout the old city and fully display the artistry and incredible wealth of the town. [Although not remembering that it was from Damascus, I have long lusted after the “Nur al-Din room” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, which you may have seen. It is not known from which house it Damascus it was removed.] Many of these houses are open, one way or another, to visitors, and in this post I will briefly describe four such houses, to give you a sense of Damascus today.
Tiled wall facing courtyard of Dar Anbar, former home of a rich Jewish merchant
Ceiling detail, Bait Quwatli
Antique Door. Antique Door is one of many restaurants converted from old courtyard homes (especially prevalent in the Christian quarter of the old city). Not the fanciest we saw, but still impressive, it is packed with customers each night, especially young people playing cards or backgammon while smoking an apple tobacco nargileh (post on the nargileh/hookah/sheesha hopefully to come). Syria, while not a rich country, is not an impoverished one either, and many people, at least in the big cities, have the disposable income necessary to enjoy a moderately priced evening out. The food at these restaurants is terrific, and a bargain at around SYR 600 (around $12) for an ample dinner for two, considering the stately and jovial ambience that could not be purchased at any price in most cities in the world.
Evening at Antique Door
Bait Farhi. One of the most striking things while walking through Damascus is the amount of construction that is going on. It almost feels like every large house is undergoing restoration, often to be turned into a hotel or a restaurant. Many hotels have opened in the old city in the last year or two, and many more are due to open in the years to come. By chance we walked by one of the most ambitious projects, the renovation and outfitting of Bait Farhi, an old home in the Jewish quarter, into a boutique hotel to be called Pasha Palace. Shirley Dyksmo, a Dutch-French interior decorator who together with her Syrian-French architect husband is heading up the project, personally gave us a generous tour, revealing the beauty of the house and its potential as a (fabulous) boutique hotel. Ms. Dyksmo explained that they are doing almost all the work in-house, having hired entire teams of craftsmen (over fifty in all) to painstakingly restore artistic details. Over the years (presumably as the fortunes of the Farhi family waned), the house had been carved up into over a dozen small apartments, with cinder block walls added to break up the large rooms and the beautiful walls and ceilings covered up with layers of paint and dirt. They are hoping to open the hotel next year, and for sure we will try to stay there on our next visit to Damascus.
Constructing missing molding, based on remaining pieces
Construction scene, main courtyard of the house
Ceiling, after restoration (this room also features a fountain)
Hebrew detail
Dahdah Palace. A stop for tourists for dozens of years, Dahdah Palace remains home to Mr. Dahdah’s wife and children (the monsieur having passed away). We knew of the beauty of the home from a book, but didn’t quite know how to visit it–and so we did what is customary for these listed homes in Damascus, which is to show up and see if entry is possible. Upon our ringing the bell, an elderly woman popped her head out of a window a half block away (these houses are big) and asked us to wait a few minutes. The lady, Mr. Dahdah’s widow, came down and started to give us a tour of the house in impeccable English. As it turns out, she was born in the United States, but moved to her family’s homeland of Lebanon before college due to an ailing grandparent. She and her husband had owned the house in Damascus for decades, and lived both there and in Lebanon. The facts were not what was most interesting, but her presentation. Not only was her accent and speech elegant, but the lady had in her diction and manners all of the elegance of a time past. You could imagine the sophistication of cosmopo
litan Lebanon when she was a young adult, and feel in the presence of a grace that is no longer easy to come by. She was much proud of the fact that her house remained a true residence rather than a restaurant or hotel (“I’ll never sell it”), and that the house was renovated when artisans still possessed traditional skills (she thought that some the recent renovations were not being done properly, although she did note the very high budget of the Pasha Palace project).
Lamp and decorative stone inlay facing courtyard, Dahdah Palace
But of course to maintain a home such as Dahdah Palace takes a large amount of money, and the house was not in the same condition as the homes that have been converted to commercial use. When we attempted to take a picture of one of the walls of the house, which had peeling paint, the lady requested with a mixture of pride and underlying regret, “Don’t take a picture of that–it’s not so pretty.” Although it seemed to us that the paint had been peeling for a while, she explained that premature rains the previous year had botched the annual paint job. She described with sadness the recent collapse of a large and beloved tree in the courtyard, a tree that was as much a part of the house as its walls, but caused much damage as it fell.
After discussing with her her history, the state of Damascus and our travel plans, she took us into one of the large rooms facing the courtyard, which was outfitted as a shop of Damascene crafts. In her gentle manner, she explained that her husband had run a crafts workshop and store when he was alive, and that the house was a true source of wonderful items. “Now we’re selling souvenirs for some money, that is what we’ve come to,” she sighed. She showed us a charming metal bowl for scooping bathing water, explaining how it was used. I was hesitant to buy any such item now since metal is heavy and we would be heading back through Damascus anyway, but our inspection of the item was cut off by her daughter, who arrived to take over the retail efforts. What a difference between mother and daughter! Lacking her mother’s charm and with the pushiness of a poor salesman, the daughter worked hard to clinch a sale, but the more she spoke the less I was interested in buying.
Nonetheless, it was charming to be acquainted with the lady of the house, and reassuring to see people holding on to their homes despite economic pressure–the old city of Damascus would of course not be the same if all of its homes were turned into hotels and restaurants to service tourists.
Geometric patterns in stone along floor, Bait Quwatli
Ceiling, Bait Quwatli
Mustafa Ali. Located near Bait Farhi in the Jewish quarter is the studio and gallery of Mustafa Ali, a Syrian sculptor. Having achieved acclaim for his work all over Europe and North America, Mustafa Ali relocated to the Jewish quarter of Damascus five years ago, filling the void left by the departed Jewish population (of which only 28 remain), who left their complicated lives in the Arab world for greener pastures in Israel and elsewhere. Mr. Ali’s aim is to create in the Jewish quarter an artistic neighborhood–a common pattern of gentrification but a plan for which many initially thought he was crazy. And it’s been successful–there are now dozens of artists in the Jewish quarter and the city has recognized its significance with an official designation. With hotels such as Pasha Palace and artists such as Mustafa Ali, a new life is being breathed into a neighborhood that had declined.
Mustafa Ali in his office
