Priapus Dionysis

Three Cities Three Universes

Posted in Uncategorized by Priapus_D on February 14, 2009

Your environment has a very important print on your life, if not shaping your life, it might be your life. But what happens when you have three environments?

Here I will talk about those cities that affect my life; the City of Jasmin (Damascus), the Damsel of the Mediterranean (Beirut), and the lost city of Amman. What is peculiar about those three places is that geographic proximity did not decease the striking differences between them. Although all of them share a long history that can teach other cities the delicacies of the art of living, they shun that mutual past and stride blindly in the tracks of the unknown to shape their present. In their blind walk, each is taking a different path.

800px-damascus_by_nightFrom the zaffarn filled air of old Damascus that is broken by shouts of tradesmen and calls to prayer to the dullness of the mute concrete towers in Mezzeh, there is a gap filled by 1001 stories.

The cries of the streets that are over crowded by all types of vehicles (from donkey driven carts and three wheels torteras to the 500 S AMG Mercedes’ that cruise the neat square of Malki) are only matched by the coos and wing-clapping of the pigeons that fills the Omayyad Mosque. History can be felt here, you can see it by looking at its sky. You can smell it through its old souqs and dungeous.You can touch it in every handshake you make. The voices of the wind crawling around Qasyoun Mountain tells you the stories that were, are, and will be. But only Barada and Ain el-Fiejeh can let you feel its taste.

While in Beirut you wonder if the Mediterranean waves hit the beaches of the city or the city is the one torturing the Mediterranean. Is it the beauty mark on the cheek of the coast or is it a tumor lurking between its waves and mountain? Although you can still barely feel those Phoenician Vessels wounding the surface of the sea, the asphalt of the al-Hamra, Verdun and Jumaizeh has a total different story to tell.


Amman on the other hand is the total opposite. No smells fill the air of Amman. No sounds cut through its space, and no contrast can be found between it wide-spreading neighborhoods and suburbs. Lifeless as it might seem, it is still the cradle of more than three million persons who are hidden by the dark magic this city casts over their lives. I wonder how can a city in the size of Amman seems so quit, while each second millions of breaths are cast into its air. How can those thin walls hide all the laughter produced by its children and absorbs all the tears of all those lovers?


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