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September 8, 2010
Syria: A thought-provoking day trip to Damascus
In April, four of my good friends and I decided to spend a week or so in Lebanon. It was a momentous occasion for me, as the country has long been on my “must-see” list. We had a marvelous time: One of my friends is married to a Lebanese man, and we spent a lot of time with his incredibly gracious and hospitable family in Beirut. I was quite impressed by this cosmopolitan city, with its incredible restaurants, elegant hotels, and vibrant nightlife.
During our visit, my friends and I decided to take a day trip to Syria, so we set off one morning by car for Damascus. As soon as we crossed over the border, I began noticing the differences between these neighboring countries. For example, the buildings we passed by on the road to Damascus were plastered with large posters bearing the likenesses not only of former Syrian presidents, but also of Yasser Arafat and Hamas leaders. I’ll admit that seeing these glorified, larger-than-life images of Hamas terrorists gave me pause … but they also heightened my curiosity about the Syrian people.
Once in Damascus, our local guide took us to the well-preserved Old City, on the southern banks of the Barada River. Walking through this section—a labyrinth of narrow, winding alleys, lined with mosques, churches, and small shops—I felt like I was stepping back in time; this area was worlds away from the city proper, with its sleek modern high-rises and frenetic traffic. As I walked along, appreciating the relative tranquility, I caught the eye of a teenage girl, who was standing in a doorway. Unlike some of the other women I’d seen thus far, who had been wearing niqabs (full coverage veils which reveal only the eyes), this young girl was wearing Western clothing.
When she realized I was looking at her, the girl smiled at me warmly. Then she held up her hand and beckoned me over, my girlfriends following closely behind. Her eyes shining brightly, the girl gestured toward a staircase in the small foyer behind her, clearly welcoming us into her home. After a moment’s hesitation, we followed her up the stairs and into an apartment with white marble floors and low, bed-like sofas strewn with children’s toys. On one of them, an older Syrian woman was reclining—she appeared to be resting a broken ankle—and when she caught sight of us, she smiled broadly and indicated we should sit down. Also in the room were two teenage boys (the girl’s brothers), another woman about our age, and a playful toddler.
In halting English, our young hostess asked if we wanted some tea. I politely declined, pointing to my watch to say that, unfortunately, we didn’t have the time. She then asked us where we were from, and when we answered America, she became very excited. It was evident that this girl had a lot of questions for me and my friends, but her limited English—and our equally limited Arabic—made conversation difficult.
After a few minutes of awkward nodding and smiling, it occurred to me that we could ask our local guide to translate for us. “Come with me,” I said to my new friend as I stood, encouraging her to follow me back to the street. Once outside, I caught sight of our guide and called him over. Turning back to the girl, I noticed that she was no longer smiling; as our guide hurried over, the girl’s brothers, who had followed us down the stairs, quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from view. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I had put this sweet and inquisitive young woman in an awkward position by having her speak with a male stranger. I felt absolutely awful, and apologized profusely to the girl and her brothers for my mistake before our group went on our way.
Later, as my friends and I discussed the encounter over dinner, we tried to imagine what life must be like for this young Syrian girl. On the one hand, she seemed remarkably open to meeting foreigners and learning about their experiences. However, her ability to converse freely with others was clearly limited by the fact that she was a woman. All in all, it was an eye-opening experience.
In your own travels, have you ever unwittingly committed a social faux pas? If so, I’d love to hear about your experiences. You can share your thoughts with me—and other travelers—by posting your comments below this Journal entry. (You can also email me at harriet@oattravel.com.)
In the coming weeks, we’ll be featuring Thailand, Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia, and the Middle East. If you’ve explored these destinations with OAT, I’d love to hear about your experiences—and see your photos! Email me at
Harriet Lewis