Damascus on my own – the keys to the city 13.05.2010

After a morning at the museum and then shopping, Pat was ready for a sleep and a swim. We had found Damascus very safe, so we decided that we would part company here for Pat to go back to the hotel, and I would go back to Old Damascus, as there were still a couple of places I wanted to discover.
However, there were some streets to cross. I lost my Syrian, and my nerve, on the first one, but then improved, always making sure I crossed on the leeward side with one or more locals. It takes about 30 minutes to walk from our hotel to the western end of Old Damascus.
Firstly, I wanted to take some photographs of Straight Street, the street where St Paul was told to go after being blinded on his way to Damascus to wipe out Christians.

Here is a map of Old Damascus, maybe a kilometre from north to south, and a bit more from east to west. There is a street crossing it from west to east, which has three different names for three different sections of it, Straight Street (Via Recta) being the central one.

Here is a picture taken in Straight Street. While the street may be straight, many of the buildings aren’t.


Another view of Straight Street. Luckily, St Paul couldn’t see at the time. I’d be worried going in to one of these buildings.
Then I wanted to find St Paul’s Church near Bab Kissan, a gate on the south eastern side of the city. We had followed the signs to it the day before, but couldn’t find it. The church had been built on the spot where St Paul had been lowered over the city wall in a basket after his conversion, to escape the Jews, who were understandably rather cross with him, seeing he’d now become a Christian, instead of persecuting them.


When I reached the place where we’d drawn a blank the day before, I asked directions from a man in the alleyway. He told me that I was in the wrong place, but if I went with him, he would show me the way. He told me he taught English, history and geography to the children in a nearby orphanage. He was quite a big man, but seemed very unwell with asthma, as he was struggling to walk, and offered me some “fresh water” out of a bottle he was clutching. Do I believe him? I decided I would. We went uphill through some alleyways, with him gasping as we went. He stopped at a doorway in the wall, produced a key for it, and told me that it was very hard teaching the orphans and did I have any money for them. Pat had given me some Syrian money for a taxi home if I needed one, so I decided the orphans needed it more than I did, and besides, this was the only chance I would ever have to find the church. He looked at it rather disparagingly and told me it wasn’t much, but reluctantly unlocked the door anyway. Inside, I was rather relieved to find a nun and a priestly looking man who unlocked another door for me, and there I was in a little courtyard, at the back of the church.


I had found it!
The church was really lovely, and very obviously dedicated to St Paul. There was also a box for donations for the orphanage. I felt badly about doubting the old sick man, and put in some more of my taxi money.


Relief on the wall of St Paul having his vision.


Relief on the wall of St Paul having his basket adventure.


Painting of St Paul’s adventure, with some divine assistance.


And just in case you didn’t get it, there was an actual St Paul sized basket there as well.


When I walked outside the church, I realised that we hadn’t been able to find the church from inside Old Damascus, as its access was from outside the city wall.


In front of the church was a fine sculpture of St Paul on his horse, being blinded on the road to Damascus.


I wasn’t prepared to go back into Old Damascus via the locked doors, so walked around outside the city wall to Bab Sharqi, the gate at the eastern end of the city, then back down Straight Street again towards the west.
There was one other church that I wanted to see, that Elias and Hadi had told us about, and that was Mariamiyeh, built in the 2nd century AD. Halfway along Straight Street, I turned right, near the restaurant where we’d had lunch the day before. I wasn’t sure if I had the right building, so I asked again. This man corrected my pronunciation, then took me inside another building, and asked another man, who said that the church was locked, but that he would get the key. I said not to worry, but he was on a mission, so across the courtyard we went to yet another building, and after some time out came another man with a key about a foot long.


The church was quite austere on the outside, but had obviously had some work done on the inside since the 2^nd century, especially in the chandelier department. I just gasped, and after all that to-ing and fro-ing with keys, felt I had to put the rest of my taxi money in the poor box.



Then it was back through the Hamidiyeh Souk and home again, quite a pro at crossing the streets by now. I was in a bit of trouble for giving away the last of our Syrian money, but I don’t think Pat minded too much!