Medina Souq

Boston Time: 3:00 PM 30 May
Aleppo Time: 10:00 PM 30 May

An early evening in Aleppo brought Andrea, Stephanie, Christina and I to Medina Souq, where we traversed the winding alleys of the market looking for silver, scarves and soaps. The confused look in our American eyes sparked a young merchant to ask if we were tourists and to invite us to his shop for a look and some tea “for hospitality.”

Mahmoud makes Andrea custom pearl earings.

His small shop displayed silver bangles, beaded jewelry and silk scarves as we drank flower tea with sugar and he offered to make custom earrings and necklaces if we found none to our liking. After about an hour, he led us down a maze of streets to his uncle’s antique shop where Andrea and Christina were hoping to find a few small daggers. Waddah, Mahmoud’s uncle offered us tea,“for hospitality,” and ensured us the “student price” throughout his shop, a gallery of art-antiques, folklore and oriental souvenirs.

We sat drinking the tea with cinnamon on a small couch with two other tourists. Learning they were from France, I quickly pointed out Andrea, our French extraordinaire, in part to end the awkward silence separating our two groups. They have been on vacation for three years! Isabelle and Bruno have been riding their bikes all over Europe and the surrounding region and don’t plan on going home until they are “tired.” Bruno foresaw another 10 years of riding; 3 years in Asia and then they hope to see the Americas. I told them when they were in the states they should head to Harris Cyclery if they need any fixing and Andrea invited them to stay at her home in the Berkshires. They update pictures to their own blog every 15 days.

Mahmoud, Me, Isabelle, Waddah, Bruno, Christina, and Stephanie at Waddah's shop (l to r)

After a long while at Waddah’s, as he continued to attempt a sale with Andrea, as we attempted to leave. She was clear in her decision of “no” but eventually made the purchase, cracking under the pressure. Tired and spent (both literally and figuratively) we needed Mahmoud to lead us out of the market towards the direction of our hotel. As we walked, he was questioned by men in uniform—shop owners are not supposed to walk with tourists or shout at them, because the tourism police don’t want foreigners to feel harassed. On the way back to our hotel, we stopped to peak some famous Syrian soaps, made here in Aleppo of laurel and olive oil, and then in a small shop for some sweets.