Shaabi or Expat? From Jdid El Artouz to Sha'alan

The apartment search... one always hopes to recognize "the find" within the first set of viewings and lucky are we to have found a geminite place. Located in the metropolitan hub of Damascus, Sha'alan, this apartment was released to the market earlier this morning by its former occupant, a BBC journalist. I'll post pictures once we move in but suffice to say it's got everything one could hope for, including a reasonable landlord who took USD 100 off her first asking price without much hassle or negotiation (bargaining strategy #1: the puppy dog eyes of two young female students...) It's equipped with new appliances (stove, fridge, microwave, washing machine, and water cooler) in a kitchen that's not only big enough to prepare for a dinner party but that invites light at any time of day. The salon offers a workspace and new sofas that rest in front of a TV equipped with satellite (standard here, and excellent to practice al-Jazeera Arabic and soap opera Syrian Arabic). The bedrooms are both huge, fully furnished with mirrors, cabinets, nightstands, et al. (far above the standards of any other room I've seen) and distinguished only by the size of windows. A Western-style bathroom.. and did I mention the terrace?!!! gleefully gorgeous, overlooking the cafes and nightlife of Sha'alan and already outfitted with a trim array of plants and greenery. Haram! I'm still trying to catch my breath from this steal!

Returning home to Jdid El Artouz, the suburb that has offered harbor while I look for a place, I did become somewhat wistful of leaving a "real" domestic environment. By this of course I mean local chickpea stands (literally the legumes themselves, washed, salted, and soaked for cooking) and Iraqi samoon stalls (delicious freshly baked bread that bubbles in the brick oven before settling into a round flatbread that's somewhat thicker from the standard Levantine khubz flatbread; comes in a variety of shapes, including a quadrangle (some say oval) shape topped with sesame seeds, of which I picked up two for dinner). And, I suppose, "real" means shaabi, or popular and with the people. I always like to travel deep -- in Chicago, New York, and Spokane as well as Syria -- and brush shoulders, exchange quips, and tour those streets that invite intimacy, however public such may be. Also, Jdid El Artouz is "normal" by which I mean that one leaves behind the airs of a big city such as Damascus. Transactions with shopowners, teens in an internet cafe, etc. are straightforward and helpful without the aggression or attitude that may characterize urban life.

At the same time, people are not curious about me and my presence in this suburb in the same way that people regularly ask about my nationality and ethnic origins in Damascus. Rather, some shopkeepers made it clear that they would prefer for me to pay for my yogurt and leave promptly after our transaction. I could speculate on several reasons for this coldness but ultimately I'm not sure how to interpret my outsider status and the ways in which it's negotiated by our exchange. Jdid El Artouz, so my host tells me, is a very open and mixed middle-class neighborhood in terms of religion and I've seen women walking around alone and unveiled with some frequency (mostly during the daytime), as well as kids playing, older men chatting and taking coffee on terraces and in front of shops, teens hanging together in front of mobile phone shops. Perhaps people wish to preserve that which I'm appreciating right now... and in the face of recent, rapid socio-economic transformation in Syrian society, I wish I could join them.

How did I end up in Jdid El Artouz? Most Damascenes do a doubletake when they hear that I'm staying so far outside the city as this is quite an unusual arrangement not only for a foreigner but for anyone who conducts regular business in the city. When I first arrived here in Damascus on Sept 23, I took a hotel because I simply did not have much time to arrange details when I was trying to leave the States. After signing up for a mobile phone line with Syria's alternate phone company (MTN), I contacted some twenty-something folks (thanks to a good friend in Lebanon) and asked if they knew of any available rooms. One generous soul replied with a better offer -- to stay at his place until I found my own. So here I've been, crashing in this sculptor's studio for several days... I'll certainly miss my time in this creative, earthy space and treasure the friendship that's emerged from our time together. But one must move on... my big thanks to you know who you are!