Thursday, 28 August 2003, Jaramana, Syria
85 degrees, SUNNY

Naeif and I sleep until 11 AM and wake up to NO WATER! The contraption that moves water up four floors only to have it cascade back down to the ground floor is broken. No showers, no face washing, no teeth brushing, no bidet, no little hoses next to Arabic toilets working. This is a bummer! We eat breakfast, and finally Ghazwan is in charge. Soon a little truck pulls up in front of the house - the truck of the man who fixes the machine that pushes the water. What seems like minutes after that, we're showing, washing, brushing and bidet'ing with wild abandon.

After that, we sit around for awhile, drink tea and have breakfast. I think I better check in at the American Embassy, since I've been here a week now, and plus, I'd like a little alone time in Damascus - a good thing! I hop in a cab, have a "cab driver conversation", and I'm on my way. Out of Jaramana, thru Zahira Camp - a Palestinian camp, quite dirty - onto the freeway, into Damascus, thru Barampke Square, towards al Mohagerin to the Embassy. I make a seamless transaction, wave "Marhaba" (Hello!) fA3
Se guards and other guys with guns, and find the Embassy . . . closed. Duh. It's Thursday. Embassy is closed.

Schedules can be trying here if you're used to the Western calendar. Our Saturday and Sunday in the US correspond to Thursday and Friday here. So, Saturday and Sunday are regular workdays. There's no "TGIF", it's more "TGIW" or "Thank Goddess it's Arba-ah (Wednesday)".

At any rate, I messed up. Can't blame Naeif for not telling my ass, I should have known! So, I take a walk ("bitlakee hone" - "take a walk") down Abu Romaneh, the street that the Embassy is on down towards the Assad Bridge, thinking of tea, except I catch a cab before then - too hot. Wayy too hot, so I head back to Jaramana. Finding Naeif home, I make him take a searing sun walk thru Jaramana in search, perpetually, for dishdashis. A hot weather dishdashi. But, we find none, as the shops are closed, we're the only fools out in this heat. A cool beverage before we go home.

After that, Naeif and I take a nap in the big salon, with a fan blasting on it. I guess we sleep for about two hours, because when we wake up, Ghazwan is saying "yallah!" it's time to go to Saydnaya - a town not far from Damascus.

Okay, we have some history here.

Saydnaya is home to a large church, orphanage and convent - allegedly a site where Jesus, that cool carpenter guy, walked from, traveling - I don't know where - maybe in search of shwarma? The church itself dates from the 1500's, and is quite the religious site. Religious or not, it's a gorgeous building, and has a view for miles from the roof. And quite the stair climb.

We remove our shoes and worm into one tiny little room filled with candles - quite warm. There are lots of "hands of Fahimi" metal objects on the wall, and dozens of incense burners hang from the ceiling. A woman, one of the nuns from the convent, is performing some sort of ablution on all who wish to kneel before a small altar, which has still more religious objects displayed. Thuraiya tells me I can blow out a candle, light it, and relight it, asking "God" for whatever I wish. I'm not sure what I want, I already have everything I could possibly need. US Trooops out of Iraq? That's a good one, so I ask for that. Bring 'em home, "God!". Except when I try to place the candle gingerly in the brass holder, it drops over diagonally. Uh, oh. I try every possibly configuration, in each candle hole. Same thing. I hand it to Naeif, who really has a heart utterly full of love, and he's able to place it perfectly. I retreat from the warm little room - it's best I stay out of overly religious environments. After that, we visit the church - very old, and still active. A few nuns dust the various artifacts and the pews. About a dozen super ornate chandeliers hang from the ceiling, making the room much smaller than it actually is.

There are some cute kids running around in the church - orphans? - and one adorable little boy walks by with a tiny chick. No, a real chick! Like a baby hen! It's too cute. Rama, Ghazwan's baby runs off in pursuit of both little boy and chick and screams when she's not able to grab both for closer inspection.

After that, we're all feeling pretty holy as well as hungry, so we head to Al Mazzar, one of the enormous outdoor restaurants that are so popular here. This is another place where Naeif used to play his Nay (Egyptian flute) in the Arabic ensembles that play here every night.