Being a Bedouin in the Souq

On Monday, we did some shopping at the Souq in Damascus. It is a colorful place, packed with people and everything you could possibly desire in Syria.

A shopkeeper we now call Sultan (it was the name of the shop) enticed us into his store through the promise of finger cymbals. There was an alleged Canadian who popped his head into the shop and said “I’m tired of buying junk from all these other Syrians. This is the only businessman I trust in Syria.” Well, with that endorsement, why not trust him? Never mind the fact that the Canadian had an Arab accent. Hence, I purchased the cymbals. To go with them, he suggested a belly dancing outfit. He showed me several. Thankfully, I narrowly escaped the purchase of THAT expensive Halloween costume.

I then told him I was looking for a hijab, the head covering used by Muslim women. He said for us to follow his protégé to another store. Alas, no hijabs. Only scarves. Whew. I thought I was safe, but wait – there’s more.

The Sultan arrived and insisted that we join him for tea, which we did. He told stories of the fleeting opportunity he had to attend a university in Boston and of his American friends who purchase his many wares. He talked about how brave we are to visit Syria, despite what the media says. He also thought we must be democrats because we didn’t listen to what our president said! He then brought out some beautiful hand-stitched Bedouin jackets. To give the clothes credibility, he had an arts and crafts book on hand to show us that these are the real McCoy. As you can see in the picture, it sure was fun to dress up! So much fun that Melissa and I chose to purchase one of those Bedouin jackets. EXPENSIVE Bedouin jackets.

Later that afternoon, we visited another shop that had finger cymbals. They were one third the price we paid at the Sultan’s shop. I was peeved. Several minutes later, we passed another shop with similar Bedouin jackets. Just to torture ourselves, we asked about the price. It was 25% less than the Sultan’s and this guy probably would have haggled a whole lot more. The label “Stupid American” did come to mind. Candy graciously reminded us that it is part of the experience. I guess it is. The moral of the story? Shop around, haggle the price and don’t trust a Canadian with an Arab accent!