Panorama-ed at last!

Well, it’s another choob kiteer (very hot) day in Damascus. There is a beautiful wind that sweeps through the lanes after dark but in the morning the streets are like ovens and the only breeze you can feel is from the swish swish of ponies’ tails as they go about delivering watermelons. There is nothing more delightful than watching a pony stare down a truck in a narrow lane and win!! Reversing just isn't in their repertoire.

Bitey, the turtle, has decided to take refuge with me which I am quite happy about because one of the other travellers staying here poured insecticide on the floor outside her room and I am terrified that Bitey will get some on her claws. I can hear her crunching on biscuits under my bed as I type.

Yesterday I finally made it to the October War Panorama after yet another false start in the morning. The first time I got there I discovered they wouldn’t let me in unless I had my passport – no spies allowed – they were very apologetic but firm so I had to try and find my way home which was quite a trial on the highway. I eventually stopped at a garden centre to catch my breath amongst the plants where I was given a tour of all the different sections by the head gardener. Things went a little awry when he tried to handfeed me a very long, phallic-shaped cucumber behind the jasmine flowers but I managed to clear that ‘misunderstanding’ up and we had a chaste cup of tea amongst the ferns. When I left he loaded me up with plants (even though I explained I really couldn’t keep them for myself) so now my family has an even more verdant oasis than before.

Once home I napped (I mean I had been up since 9:30 am) and ate another very pleasing chocolate doughnut. Doha, Ayah and Jemaan each took turns in visiting me to tell me about their days. Doha is such a beautiful girl. She studies hard every day and has great plans to see the world. She came in to see me after morning Madrassa, flopped onto my couch and said in a very perplexed voice. ‘I don’t know why I love you so much.’ It was said with such dramatic angst, as if it was troubling her to understand why this might be. As if there was some deeper meaning to it that she couldn’t fathom. I just gave her a big cuddle and she started to smile again. I feel very sad at the thought of saying goodbye to her but I don’t feel like it is forever. Just like Florence I know that Damascus is somewhere I will always return to or dare I say – belong.

Anyway in the afternoon I decided to tackle the October War Panorama again. I walked through Souk-Al-Hamidiyya first because I wanted to visit the underwear section on the way. The crazy, feathery, glitzy (complete with electronic songs in the crotch) knickers and bra ensembles never fail to amuse me; particularly when the very serious salesmen start pressing all the buttons so as to impress me with the full razzle-dazzle. I spent a good twenty minutes there being entertained before finally finding a taxi with a meter (as opposed to the let’s-pluck-a-number-out-of-our butt-method which a lot of the drivers do at the sight of a gringo.) The Panorama occupies a very grand space. Lots of water features, green trees and polished marble floors - quite the oasis of peace !?! Apparently it cost an awful lot of money to build; money which was largely fronted by the North Koreans. I asked why the North Koreans had felt obliged to give so much money to Syria to build this memorial and I was told it is because Syria and North Korea have such a good understanding. (eg ‘They both hate America.’)
On one side of the main building are Syrian tanks and weaponry from the actual war. Many of them were built by The USSR and Czechoslovakia (as it was then) and some of them still have their rockets attached. I had a very informative guide whom I shall simply call K. He gave a very interesting spin on the whole Panorama which I won’t write about here. Suffice to say I learned a lot of new things about Syria.
On the other side of the building sat the remains of Israeli tanks and weapons largely built by the Israelis, the Finnish and The Americans. A sign rather smugly referred to them as ‘booty’.
After inspecting the weaponry I watched a short film on the battle for The Golan Heights but first I had to stand for the Syrian national anthem. Quite a rousing tune actually and everyone else in the auditorium sang it with impressive gusto. The film was very old (you’d think the war had happened at the time of the Boers) but it showed the Syrians capturing a communication post or something like that. Everyone in the room applauded very enthusiastically at the apparent victory. Upstairs was a painted panorama of the battle at Quneitra, they even transported sand/mines/barbed wire from the area to give it an authentic 3D effect. This also received a rousing applause although given the current situation in The Golan Heights it makes me wonder what the accompanying oral presentation (given all in Arabic) actually says. It was all very detailed and immaculate but I can’t help wondering if the money might have been better spent helping the poor people in Syria, particularly those whose men served in the military. I guess the overall impression of the Panorama for me was what I usually feel when I see war commemorations – sadness and frustration at just how stupid it all is.

In the evening I ate with my family before visiting a man who makes and plays the Uud. He had an attack of shyness and asked that we return the following night to hear him play.

So instead of listening to music as planned I wandered Straight Street with the women of the family where we ate ice-cream, nearly got run over by insane service taxi drivers and met a man who was both Christian and Muslim and liked to call himself Joseph or Youssef depending on whether the woman he is trying to woo is Christian or Muslim.
Ah, how I adore their cunning ways.
After this I drank some wine and cosied up with my bed bugs for another dream-infested night.