My Week: Swimming In Syria
...All I can say is that beautiful though Syria is, I am now glad I live in Egypt because swimming with shorts flapping round my legs was not pleasant. Nor was the loud disco music belting out, undoing any feeling of relaxation and tranquillity which the swimming motion may have induced...
Ruth Kaye, continuing her travels in the Midle East, goes swimming in Aleppo. To read earlier episodes of Ruth's holiday journey click on My Week in the menu on this page.
I was still determined to go to a public swimming pool in Syria, despite my knock backs in Damascus, where I was turned away twice (by the officious staff) because it was not a women’s only session; they were held just twice a week at 6am-8am and the reception staff got Saturday and Sunday muddled up so I ended up getting up early to arrive on time on the wrong day. Grr!
This time I checked the time and day on the phone twice to make perfectly sure. I got horribly lost on the way there but somehow it was more interesting that way; great to be outside the normal tourist perimeters, seeing the daily routine of real life.
People had told me that Egyptian society is more liberated than in other Middle Easter countries yet I didn’t believe them. Now, I do. In Egypt, not only do they allow me to swim at times other than women only sessions, but I am also allowed to wear my normal swimming costume, regardless of the fact
that it doesn’t cover my shoulders and thighs. In Syria, on the other hand, as well as being forbidden entry when men are present, women must cover thighs before entering the pool.
‘Cyclisme? Fein? (where?)’, screamed the changing room attendant, as I stuffed my bags into the ancient locker.
‘Cyclisme?’ I replied, feigning ignorance, although I guessed she must mean cycling shorts. She pointed down at a nearby lady’s shorts.
‘La, la, mish keda; mish ayza!’ I replied (No, No! Not possible. I don’t want!’-directness is OK in Egypt). I then pointed at a woman who was sneaking into the pool area with bare thighs.
‘Look! Where are her shorts?’ I asked the attendant.
The bare-thighed woman was reprimanded and I was eventually forced to concede as without the shorts I was clearly not to be allowed access to the pool area, despite the fact that there were no men present in the entire
complex! I managed to persuade the woman to lend me some for 45 mins, instead of buying them (which is what she wanted me to do).
All I can say is that beautiful though Syria is, I am now glad I live in Egypt because swimming with shorts flapping round my legs was not pleasant. Nor was the loud disco music belting out, undoing any feeling of relaxation and tranquillity which the swimming motion may have induced. As I
handed over my sandals for the pool attendant to guard, I could not hear what she was saying for the noise.
People keep asking me whether or not the conflict between Lebanon and Israel was apparent during my holiday. It was, in the fact that there were many evacuees from Lebanon taking up space in hotel rooms. I chatted to many friendly but saddened Lebanese people. In Aleppo there were Hezbollah
posters, featuring their bearded leader, on display everywhere. At first I wasn’t quite sure what they were as he looked to me a bit like a stand-up comedian. I had a little incident with the Hezbollah flag. When Jung and I wanted to have a photo taken in front of the Public Park, a man thrust a Hezbollah flag into our hands and a big audience gathered to have a look.
They cheered and took out their phones to take a picture also.
