I traveled to Aleppo after my last exam in order to take full advantage of our week off. I was slowly recovering from some sort of death that I wouldn’t be surprised to find was the swine flu. It should be noted that the Swine Flu wields special weight in the Muslim world, further sealing my fate of a year without bacon. Life can be so cruel. At any rate my friends here had postponed our trip in order to give me a chance to recover, a thoroughly kind act. How could I say anything but yes after that? Buck up little cowboy it’s time to go.
We travelled by train which as far as I can tell is most well run thing in the whole country. We left on time, it was clean, hell we even arrived on time. Five hour train trip for four dollars, yes please. We were feeling fancy so we spent the extra dollar to travel first class. I will greatly miss such cheap transport when I leave. We arrived early in the afternoon and made our way to the deluxe Hotel Assia, running us a cool seven dollars a night. Sure we didn’t have heat or hot water or even toilette paper but I always thought such amenities as luxuries of the bourgeoisie.
The first day was nice, just lots of wandering through the sook and getting lost in general. Then we chanced upon Ala Edin, or as he is more commonly known “Rambo of the sook.” While ambling through the crowd we were flagged down by followed by our soon to be friend. While he started talking to Shilpa the rest of us sped up so as to cut our losses. Apparently he knew someone in America! Imagine that! The street hawks will make you crazy in the middle east, so much so that you have to be almost rude sometimes just to get away. As it turns out he knows none other than the Guvenator of the Golden State. He launches into the topic of body building asking us if we have ever tried it, a completely ridiculous question considering my skinny ass was the largest in the group. He then alleges to have won all sorts of different body building titles, including Mr. Mediterranean and Mr. Asia. In spite of internal eye rolling, we found ourselves swayed to have coffee and tea at his shop. There at his jewelry shop, yes Rambo makes jewelry, he showed us picture after picture of him in competitions interspersed with those of his daughter. Every picture was legit and in most he was being presented awards. Holy shit the man was for real! Upon this revelation the entire of mood of the room changed and we asked all sorts of questions concerning his hobby of choice. We learned of his diet of pureed chicken breasts, mmmmmm, and that he was learning Spanish for an upcoming competition in Spain.
Then the topic necessarily turned to his one of a kind jewelry, readily available at the shop directly across from his. Fear not! Rambo knows that there’s one born every minute! We really could have just handed him our wallets in the beginning and saved a lot of time. Nonetheless I felt strangely ok with getting hustled by our new friend. Was he peddling crap? Absolutely. Did we care? Never. We sat and drank coffee while a burly body builder tried on various jewelry to show off his favorite pieces. These pieces were then weighed by a magic scale and multiplied by and ever-changing number to produce a price. Genius I say. The girls never had a chance. It was the most genuine hustle I’ve ever come across, if that makes any sense.
In the evening we had dinner that seemed good enough and then moved on to drinks at the famous Baron Hotel. The Baron Hotel is located in the “red light district” of Aleppo, which is really nothing more than a few movie houses showing soft core porn. I do have fond memories of Cinemax anyways. Sadly, I’m told all the racy advertisements in the area depict the very scenes that have been censored. This evoked decidedly less fond memories of USA’s “Up All Night” program. The Baron Hotel “smelled of english colonialism” as a friend aptly put it. It really felt like nothing had change since T.E. Lawrence was operating from there. The history dork in me enjoyed the ambiance, and the beers, very much.
The second day was far less enjoyable and was punctuated by my running to the bathroom every 30 minutes or so. My dinner was angry and it was time for penance. I did manage to see the castle, or at least walk around its humbling walls. It was most recently rebuilt by the Mamaluks and changed hands numerous times throughout antiquity. It was closing right as we arrived to the gates. This would be my only reason to return to Aleppo. I crashed early the second day and we travelled home the next morning. Aleppo was nice, but I feel decidedly overblown. Once you’ve seen one Arab sook you’ve seen them all. If I had come straight to Aleppo from the west I’m sure it would have been a completely different feel. Felt great to get home. (I hope Holly never sees this)
