Tuesday, 26 August 2003, Jaramana, Syria
90 degrees, SUNNY

Today we get up fairly late - this is becoming a habit - and I decide it's time to pay a visit to my pals at the American Embassy. We finally get ready and head out in a cab around 4:00 to find it closed at 3:00. Oh well, time to drink tea! We're near al Mouhagerin, which is the neighborhood that Basma, my Arabic tutor lived in when I was here last. She's now married, and as I walk up this familiar street, I wonder how she's doing. We come to her street, and Naeif informs me that it's perfectly acceptable in Arabic culture to just drop in for an unannounced visit after a year and a half. So, we do. . .

Basma's father, the director of the Foreign Language Institute for Non Arabic Speakers in Mezzah is happy to see me! We go in, and he calls Basma, now married. She lives about a ten minute walk away, so she pops over. I'm so glad to see her! She's great, happy being married and looking good. Naeif and I have completely interrupted a lesson - but it's another American. I ask him "what are YOU doing here?" and he inquires the same of me. His lesson is quickly forgotten and he gets a big kick out of his "culture lesson". We spend another half hour or so, I get Basma's number to set up a couple more lessons, and bid farewell.

Naeif and I head towards Bhab Touma in a cab. When we stop, he takes me to his favorite shwarma place. The guys are happy to see him after his five year absence. After that, it's all about dishdashi shopping.

Dishdashis are long dresses for men and women. The women's versions range from lushly embroidered with tassels to simple, unadorned cotton affairs for wearing to and from the hammam. The men's are all the same style, with a V neck, and either a plaid or solid color lightweight fabric. You see people all over in the street wearing these in the summer, very practical. The one I end up selecting is hunter green and tan, with a tassel embroidered onto the front. There is all kinds of complicated embroidery on the bodice, and around the lower half - it's pretty spectacular. I now feel I need to acquire a more simple one for lounging, plus this one I have now is not as breezy as I'd hoped it would be. It is striking, though! There are some for women that are sort of convertible. This is the variety that the my friend, the lovely msLaura in California will receive, as she is now gestating her first baby! The robes are embroidered in infinite varieties, and have a big pleat running down the front, sort of an Empire waistline that expands to accommodate the inevitable multiple pregnancies that Syrian women must endure. Two bands just under the bustline are attached to long cords with tassels that *zip!*tie the thing back up after the baby is born. On a normal woman, the pleat is merely decorative, offering a fetching peek of a contrasting color. On a woman, such as my mother in law, who has had nine children and never really "snapped back", the pleat accommodates her Buddha - like belly. These robes are great, and are supposed to be worn roomy.

We select our robes, but do not have enough money even after Naeif talks the price down from 3400 S.L. to 2800 S.L. (a little over US $53 total). It seems as soon as the shopkeepers see me the price goes up. Then Naeif starts the haggling, and divulges "we are not tourists". The price drops dramatically. We leave a deposit, and will pick up the robes later.

We get back from Bhab Touma, and Naeif's cousin from London visits with her parents, and her sixteen year old son, also named Naeif. They speak English and Arabic, which is great, a real relief. I sense that Small Naeif (as I dub him) is getting slightly bored, so I ask if he'd like to join me, just to dash into Bhab Touma and back to pick up my dishdashi and pay the rest of the bill. He jumps up, yes! We leave, to my profuse reassurances to his mother that he'll be fine, I know the area, etc. All the buses to Bhab Touma are PACKED going out of Jaramana, but we finally find one, and are on our way. I go back to the dishdashi guy, and humdullah that I have Small Naeif with me to translate what the store guy is saying. We get the robe, jump back into the bus and zip back to Jaramana.

After that, we go up to Ghazwans, for some biera, nargilah and Syrian pizza - which is suprisingly good. I think it's even improved a bit from the last time I was here. It's always fun at Ghazwans, very casual and no outrageous amounts of food - just snacks. Marlin shows up and we hang out some more until about 2 AM. Syrian nights go LATE, everyone is out, running around, kids are awake LONG past any bedtime . . . yallah!