Scenes from the Souk

The main shopping thoroughfare in Damascus is the venerable souk al-Hamidiyya, named after the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid II and forms one of the main entrances to the medieval Old City of Damascus. Under the corrugated iron roof lie rows of shops selling jewellery, clothes, leather bags, Arabic perfume and embroidery competing for the masses of locals and tourists alike who have come to experience and contribute to what is part of the world’s oldest continually inhabited settlement.

The holes in the roof, lasting imprints of bullets fired from machine guns by French fighter jets during the Syrian nationalist revolt of 1925, create the illusion of a star-studded sky during the day, as rays of light pass through and illuminate the expansive souk, dark and sombre but for the loud chattering of the throng of shoppers. Intermittent electricity cuts are an almost daily phenomenon here, and during such times the whole souk will be abuzz with the drone of electricity generator motors coming from the wealthier shops, while the poorer stalls are left stranded in darkness.

The souk becomes a vantage point from which to observe the variety of people who form a parade of humanity along the winding thoroughfare. Young Syrian women wearing incredibly high heels, headscarves neatly tucked into their leather jackets, their male counterparts in rugged tight jeans and slicked hair; Iranian pilgrims covered rather clumsily in their chadors, middle-aged men constantly flicking their prayer beads, reciting the 99 names of God. Gulf Arab women can easily be identified by their abayas, black free-flowing robes concealing the female form, allowing only for subtle – but sufficiently visible – displays of wealth; the Gucci sunglasses, gold and silver bangles and glittering sequins across their abayas. And then there are the freckled-face, red-haired Arabs, a common enough occurrence in the Levant, the Arab region comprising Syria, Lebanon, Palestine and Jordan, but which still provoke bewilderment to the first-time visitor accustomed to the conventional stereotypes of what an Arab looks like.

A familiar sight throughout the souk, even in the biting cold of winter, are shoppers licking the ubiquitous bouzat haleeb, milk-and-rosewater-scented Arabic ice-cream generously topped with pistachios. There’s the slightest whiff of almond essence, and you’re trying to figure out why the ice-cream is rather gummy. And then you realise it’s not the usual sort of ice-cream, and this is not the usual sort of shopping mall.

Shopping in Syria

Let’s ignore the global financial crisis for a while, and pretend we actually have money. The natural reaction is to go on a shopping frenzy. This makes perfect sense, because despite calls from financial advisers and ethicists to cut down on spending or worse, eliminate conspicuous consumption altogether, it’s hard to deny that shopping makes us happy. What do you do after getting fired or finding yourself unemployed for the last 6 months? Go out and buy something of course, if only to avoid the looming depression.

Dubai has often been promoted as the shopping mecca of the Middle East. I find this is only true if you have the salary of the Hiltons or the Beckhams. For the rest of us who can only afford to fantasize about living the glamorous life, the most we can do is window shop. The truth is, when it comes to shopping in Arabia, you’re better off in Syria. Years of being relegated to international pariah status has meant that it has largely escaped the onslaught of giant shopping malls seen everywhere else in the region. Instead, shoppers throng through medieval bazaars spread across labyrinthine alleyways, studded with discrete nooks and corners for the curious consumer intent on an expedition as much as scoring a bargain.

Getting a bargain in Syria is an art in conversation, requiring polite banter, a little bit of deception and mutual respect between buyer and trader. In one of the embroidery shops we bargained our way through a cup of strong Arabic coffee provided by the hospitable owner. Having been accustomed to stationary SALE! signs in Malaysia and Australia, I was initially reticent at having to be an active participant in our mission to get a discount. After a couple of attempts though, you start to get the hang of it and haggling suddenly becomes a thrilling revelation. The shopping mall experience of getting your desired item and handing it over to the cashier for scanning now seems passive and sterile in comparison. I guess it’s a bit like comparing between hunting for food and buying it from the supermarket – the latter is more convenient but oh what joy it is to do it the old fashioned way and chase after your meal.

Having said that, just when I finally gained enough confidence to try to haggle without the help of my mum, none of the traders would even move to give me a discount! So just a tip for all the guys out there, if you intend to shop, always bring a female companion with you. Unfortunately gender discrimination against men is still a widespread problem in bazaars and flea markets across the world, and for now I can only dream of a day when all men can haggle independently without the help of their womenfolk.

Syrian Stories

Last January, I had the opportunity of visiting Syria in the midst of winter. Winter in Syria is not as frigid or unpredictable as the European winter, with a fairly steady average of around 10 C during the day. I’ve always enjoyed cooler climes so it was the perfect temperament for me. A must-see in Damascus, the capital and biggest city, is the Old Souk, which still manages to retain the atmosphere of the medieval Arab city.

Syria’s answer to the monolithic, predictable mass of modern shopping malls found in the industrialized world is its winding souks, snaking through discreet laneways and little nooks and corners. At the Spice Souk in Damascus’ Old City, shops display the myriad spices in bulk, contained in metal tins embossed with intricate detail.