Open Writing

After Hama I headed for Aleppo on another Pullman bus with free chocolate.

Here I stayed in The Springflower hotel. As the hotel namecard pointed out, you have to be careful of the many hotels in the vicinity which have similar names. After driving round in many circles, the taxi driver eventually located it. Taxi drivers in this part of the world are not at all like English taxi drivers. They generally do not have a meter, or refuse to use one, and they also have no idea where anything is. Most do not even know the names of the streets.

The Springflower hotel has a bad reputation among travellers. Many people warned me about the unfriendly manager. However it was by far the cheapest option in Aleppo, and the only one with the cheap rooftop accommodation which I'd grown used to. Once more I dumped my sleeping bag on the cleanest looking mattress and went to give my passport details to the manager. He was a bit grumpy but found me the information I wanted on the Hammam (Turkish bath) and public swimming pool opening times for women.

In general he treated me courteously on the surface, but when I put my watermelon in his restaurant fridge (of course I checked I'd be allowed to use it first, after hearing reports of a fight over money, during which he'd pushed a guest down the steps), it suddenly vanished. He informed me with a satisfied snarl that it had been transferred to another fridge and that I'd have to get the key for it from him personally every time I wanted a piece.

The aim of the hotel management seemed to be to get as much money from the guests as possible. Whereas in most hotels you could bring in your own food to eat in the central area, here they had made a restaurant in which only food bought in the hotel could be consumed. If you wanted hot water to make yourself a hot drink, even that had to be bought. Once I was caught sitting on my own private sleeping bag on my mattress, in the dorm area, eating a banana. I was reprimanded for not having bought the banana in the hotel and later, after going out, I returned to find two bananas had vanished (and they were large imported ones too, as there are no local bananas in Syria).

Hmmpph! What else? Oh, yes, there was a bookcase inside the restaurant, which was firmly locked. On the thief-proof glass cover was a sign stating that if you wanted to exchange books it was necessary to pay an additional fee. Otherwise you had to buy them from the hotel. The books were not new and had been given rather ambitious prices.

The other down-side of this cheap accommodation was the shared toilet for rooftop dwellers. There was only one cupboard-sized toilet/shower provided for roughly 15 smelly back-packers. The shower would only work if you turned both taps together and I think the sign outside the hotel advertising '24-hour hot water', should have been changed to 'an occasional spatter of cold water'. The toilet was even worse as it rarely flushed. I once had to wait 20 mins to go in. I really grew tired of listening to noises of the person before me cursing the toilet, clanking the lid etc. etc.

By the way, don't bother to learn the Arabic word for toilet as you won't need it and will only confuse people if you do try to say it. A year ago, I was taken to a live hen and rabbit stall and was handed a hen, upon asking for the toilet, and in Syria and Jordan nothing seemed to work unanimously except 'toilette'!

My friend Jung had arrived in Aleppo a day before me and had booked into the more expensive Tourist Hotel, directly opposite The Springflower. She kindly invited me to use her shower facilities in emergencies. This was a cleaner, classier hotel with a really beautiful antique bureau on display in the reception area. The drawback with her hotel was the price and lecherous owner who made improper advances towards her.

The souq inside the old city in Aleppo, is not so touristy as in Damascus but somehow it lacked the spirit and colour of the one in Damascus. It also lacked the delicious pistachio-topped ice-cream and the cheap, hand-made handbags which I'd been eyeing up in Damascus.

My best souq experience was bumping into a half Chinese-Canadian guy I'd met in the Hama dorm, and his German friend. We went to a spice shop together and, after smelling so many spices that our noses lost their sense of smell. Among the more traditional spices, there was 'chips spice', 'pizza spice' and 'Nescafe'.

I discovered that the owner was studying English using the same course book we use at work. He brought his course book out and proudly told me his opinions on the stories he'd read in them. I would never have had this kind of experience if I'd been alone. I usually hurry on as fast as I can, and am closed to any verbal exchange beyond buying/selling. It was
really great to have the men with me as it stopped the sexually suggestive comments from local men and helped me see the good side of the people there.

There are plenty of mosques and other famous old buildings to see in the Old city, and there's also the Citadel, but I had grown bored with old buildings and mosques and had run out of space on my camera SIM card (despite having whittled down the number in Hama, by forcing Jung to help me decide which photos to erase.)

One of the best features in Aleppo was the fresh juice stalls. We have these in Egypt but their variety of juice is very small. In those around me at the moment there is only mango and orange juice. On the road behind me in Aleppo there were five juice stalls in a row. I treated myself to carrot juice or mixed juice every day, whenever I felt I was most in the mood. Actually, although my juice experience was largely positive, I did have one nasty incident. Usually you watch the juice-maker pushing the fresh fruit/veg through the juicer. One day, though, the man threw in loads of ready-made syrup to substitute for fresh fruit. I told him this was not acceptable and could he please make me a new, completely natural drink. Seemingly not! I was forced to pay for it, despite my emonstrations. I was so angry with him that I threw the drink in his face. At least I felt a sense of satisfaction as I walked away!

On the subject of fruit, although you might expect to find cheap local bananas in both Jordan and Syria, you only seem to be able to buy imported brands. Apparently there was an attempt to cultivate local bananas but it failed.

More later.