November Travelogue: Disco in the Desert

Signage found on the highway to Palmyra

The high desert terrain of Syria west of Damascus is a lot like what one would find in the desert southwest region of the United States. Every now and then, unlike its American counterpart, you'll catch sight of a blast area where rock was harvested for buildings or foundation purposes, or spot the encampment of a Bedouin tribe, nomadic people who had to discontinue or adapt many of their traditions due to both weather (a mid 20th century drought forced many to abandon as herders) and Syrian government policies.

This particular November in the late 2000's was the longest and farthest away I had been from closest friends and family. It was certainly not anywhere I thought I would be, much less consider going, given the rather contentious history and shaky (at best) relationship between my birth and current host country. But a work opportunity came my way, and the region was about as peaceful as one could have hoped for the time of my visit.

On this day, a few of my co-workers and were crammed in a passenger van on a chartered trip to see the ancient Roman ruins in Palmyra. We really did not figure it out until much later in our travels, but Palmyra (a name derived from the city's Aramaic name of Tadmor, which translates to "palm tree") is indeed the proverbial oasis in the middle of the desert, acting as a vital resting spot for caravans traveling the major east-west trade routes in ancient time.

Traveling to where ancient Romans and trade caravans have passed through for centuries

On this day, the only caravans we saw were fleets of tanker trucks chugging to and from neighboring Iraq. They were a constant reminder of the presence of crude oil, one the more recent reasons that this area has seen so much added tumult over the past few decades. Another similar reminder was the several places that claimed to be the "Bagdad Cafe." Apparently, the one with the "66" on it is the one to visit from the limited information I have been able to read from web-based sources.

If you believe the reviews, this is the correct "Bagdad Cafe" to visit for some good eats

At the time of our trip, our group was still getting used to the sights of Damascus, Syria's capital city. Considered by some to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world, Damascus had its fair share of Western influence (I learned a building with a big Sony logo was a great way to orient yourself in that part of town, and the Four Seasons was about the best place in town to get a $9 can of Diet Coke) mixed in with its more ancient aspects. On our first trip away from city limits, we figured we wouldn't get much if anything Western-culture related, especially in the middle of the desert.

Our group had been chatting at a good level as we traveled from the center of Damascus and through the suburb areas, but we quieted down as we reached the more desolate parts away from the metro. The driver, who I am certain has done this trip for folks like us hundreds of times and, if nothing else, wanted to stay awake, asked us if it was okay to turn on the radio. No one objected.

This was my first experience with Syrian radio, and it was apparent we had tuned in to a station from Aleppo, the largest city in the northern reaches of the country. However, the strains of the first song we heard woke everyone out of their semi-stupor that had overtaken us.

The 4/4 beat, orchestral strains, sultry swaying sound of a song that typified a brief and, some say, regrettable era in American pop music...we stared at each other, as if to confirm we weren't individually hallucinating from dehydration and desert heat.

The Bee Gees? "More Than a Woman"? We were all sucked in to that beat and those familiar lyrics..

Oh say you'll always be my baby

We can make it shine

We can take forever just a minute at a time

And then it happened, as a group. In imperfect harmony, we sung out:

More than a woman

More than a woman to me

More than a woman

More than a woman to me

In the middle of the Syrian desert, the Gibb Brothers were leading us on to Palmyra...

Thanks for reading, and may you all have the safest of travels and the best of Thanksgiving holidays.

The Ice Cream Chronicles (Pt. 4): Bakdashery

I

The countries of the Middle East have often made world headlines over the past several decades, and usually it has not been for pleasant reasons. Political, religious, factional and nationalistic differences from countries in and out of the region have led to numerous violent outbreaks, with the re-igniting of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict the latest in this long line of strife.

Prior to this, Syria had been at the forefront of these headlines not too long ago, when the region-wide "Arab Spring" movement turned into a bitter civil war between groups of rebels and the long-standing ruling government. This conflict, now more than three years running, has caused many people to flee the country for neighboring countries such as Egypt and Jordan.

In an interesting twist, I read recently that the well-renowned ice creamery in Damascus, Bakdash, has become a victim of the civil war in its own right. As detailed in this NPR story, Bakdash has opened up a new location in Amman, Jordan due to the decline in business in Syria and the influx of refugees into Jordan. Upon learning of this story, I feel even more fortunate now that I was able to sample some of their uniquely crafted treats during a far more peaceful time during a work detail Damascus several years ago.

Damascus, said to be one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world (there is some debate about that distinction), turned out to be a fascinating city where ancient and modern, Arab and Western, rich and poor, and other stark contrasts could be found almost every minute if one looked hard enough. This stark contrast also translated to the food in a more pronounced manner. Anything that tended to mimic Western-styled themes or concepts was often times odd at best and simply not enjoyable at worst (yes, I did try a local version of the Skyline Chili Coney Dog to my chagrin.) If you stuck with the local food, you were almost guaranteed to have a good to great meal.

One of my personal favorite trips was when the group decided to head into the older part of town to Souk Al-Hamidiyeh, typically the busiest market in the city due to its tourist attraction status. This market has just about everything the shopper could want, both local and visitor. Spices and other food basics, home furnishings, toys, sweets, clothing - you name it, you'll find it somewhere within this market's vast expanse. Using the famed western entrance, you are greeted with a walkway covered with an iron roof that is riddled with bullet-holes from early 20th century conflicts. It is here where Bakdash has plied its craft making its ice cream (or, as the locals call it, booza) since 1895.

Prior to the trip, my research revealed this was one of those must-visit places. Indeed, no matter when we dropped by the market, there seemed to be a line extending from inside. As it turned out, the spectacle created by the crowds milling inside and around the store along with the employees plying their craft was as much of an attraction as much as the ice cream itself.

One man churned/pounded the ice cream (made up mainly of whole milk, sugar, mastic and orchid flour) in a cooled chamber with a large wooden.  When it had reached the right consistency, he wedged the ice cream from the bottom and handed the mass over to another worker. This worker then pulled chunks of this glob out and rolled them in pistachios. Other workers would assist in the placing the ice cream into bowls and adding other toppings as requested as customers queued by. The standard order costed about $1 at the time, with add-ons available for additional cost.

Upon first look, my instinct upon seeing it was to think vanilla, but that was nowhere in the smell or flavor profile. Indeed, the base ice cream was a lot like a slow-to-melt ice milk, with a unique flavor profile and a flowery scent. Texture-wise, it was chewy and gooey like a warmed up taffy or thick melted cheese. The freshly chopped pistachios provided the dominant and tasty flavor.

Bakdash's ice cream ranks as my most unique foray into the ice cream world.  While the ice cream may not be my most favorite taste or texture-wise when compared to . However, it remains one of my most memorable, representative of the time where I got to indulge in another area of the world's rich culinary traditions.

(Those who would like to see the process used at Bakdash to produce their unique ice cream can reference this video taken at their new location in Amman, Jordan.) 

Bakdash Ice Cream Parlor
Souq Al-Hamidiyeh
Damascus, Syria

Al Madeenah Al munawwarah Street
Amman, Jordan
Website