We went back to meet the Hanadi desk guy because we were considering hiring one of his drivers for a day trip. This was definitely not to be, because when we sat down to talk he immediately launched into a discussion of how I had a man's haircut, but didn't seem like a man, and he was confused—was I a man or a woman? I smarted off at him that I was obviously a woman, I have boobs. But he didn't seem to notice my anger and launched into yet another offensive monologue. I walked. It was the absolute worst experience I have ever had with hotel staff.
Fortunately, after some depressing tours of various hotels in the area, Dan and I found the perfect place: Spring Flower Hostel. Cheap but wonderful rooms, internet connection, comfortable lounge area, and reasonably priced drivers. Everything got better after we moved there, and if I go back to Aleppo I won't stay anywhere else.
Aleppo is a bazaar town, so if you like to shop, this is the place for you. Right by the entrance to the souq is a beautiful mosque, where I got to have yet another encounter with "special clothes."
The mosque was again a gorgeous place filled with families just hanging out, their children piling onto a fountain and then leaping off of it onto some rolled-up floor mats. All the kids were very friendly, and in addition to the usual calls of "Hello!" I got endless requests for photos. They love to see pictures of themselves, like some kind of delayed reflection in a mirror. Another girl had brought a tripod with her and was definitely woman of the hour!
People were also out and about because World Cup games are displayed on giant screens around the Aleppo Citadel, which is all lit up at night. When Dan and I toured during the day, we met this guy with movie star looks who used to manage the site. He invited us to his way overpriced shop and showed us photos of himself as a young man with Jimmy Carter and with the King of Spain. His brother, who co-ran the shop, kept saying things like, "Oh this item is not very expensive. Only 300 Euros." I nearly spat out my tea.
The souq was filled with other enterprising salesmen, all of whom wanted a piece of our business. One guy kept chasing me down the alleyway offering me low prices whenever I passed by. Another said, "Scarves! Soaps! Very expensive!" Then he began laughing at himself as though he'd just misspoken. I am pretty sure he did that on purpose to attract attention, but it was hilarious all the same. Aleppo is a late-to-rise town, and there is pretty much nothing going on before 9:00 AM. After that, though, you can shop until you drop. Silk scarves, sweet-smelling soaps, spices, textiles, hand-carved wooden boxes...Dan and I even had some carpet success, and after much looking and haggling, I now have my very own richly-colored rug. It is currently rolled up tight and crammed into the bottom of a suitcase, only to delight me anew when I unfurl it in my living room.
Aleppo's churches are also pretty exciting. Dan and I admired icons at the Armenian Church of the Forty Martyrs, peered through the windows at the unfortunately closed Greek Orthodox church, and even attended a service at a church we later discovered was Maronite. The building was bright and beautiful, the music haunting, and the devout and properly-dressed older women dignified.
Overall I think I might be a Damascus kind of girl, but I would go to Aleppo again any day. I have come to enjoy haggling and squeezing my way through covered streets lined with colorful goods and shouting vendors. And it doesn't hurt that there was a row of about six juice bars right down the block from my hostel.
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