So I’ve raved about Syria, hinting at the many plusses of traveling there: friendly locals not yet cynical about travelers; inexpensive and delicious food; a hassle-free experience when walking down streets alone as a female.  Here is a story that was indicative of my time there… and it has to do with candy! (Apologies for the enormous length… I’ll try and be less verbose in the future.)

Most nights in Aleppo I would eat a traditional Syrian dinner of mezzes - hummus, salad, baba ganoosh, pickle, the works.  Each dish is served on a separate small plate cascading around the eater, so the table ends up quite full.  These appetizers are very popular in Syria, and they’re very cheap and filling - especially because the bread is free and unlimited! On particular night I went to the Abu Al’Nawas Restaurant (in the Bab Al Faraj area of town.)  I ordered my typical platter of dishes and settled down for a lonely dinner for one… until two older men, seated near me, decided to sit at my table, introduce themselves (Ahmad and his friend, a name forever lost to history because I forgot it) and chat.

Normally when this happens either my “tout alarm system” or “Arab guy looking for easy American prostitute-like experience alarm system” goes off - or both! - and usually with good reason.  One of the negatives of traveling as an American (especially an American woman alone) is the stereotypical image of the western woman in Middle Eastern press.  As a woman, by herself, in a foreign country I’m already breaking all sorts of cultural restrictions, so often Arabic men feel free to approach and eventually (meaning after a sentence or two) ask if I’ll sleep with them/marry them/love them.

One of the negative aspects of travel is that this sort of endless barrage of negative attention means you block yourself off from all foreigners. After two weeks in Cairo, I doubt that I would have been as friendly to these two men as I was back in late October.  By ignoring all Arabic men, you keep yourself out of trouble… but you can miss out on some great travel stories as well.

Anyways, sidenote over, the two men seemed respectable, devout Muslims and the restaurant was obviously popular with Iranian tourists and locals, so I was friendly with my responses to Ahmad and his friend. In return, I received a free Arabic lesson - learning the personal pronouns, food words, restaurant words, and even an overwhelmingly quick lesson on the Arabic script.  Basically, just enough to teach me that learning Arabic for real would require far more time than I have on this trip.  After the lesson, they returned to their table and continued chatting while I finished my food.

Later, Ahmad brought me the check - it turns out he’s the owner of the restaurant - and asked if I had any more plans for Aleppo.  I explained I wanted to visit a candy factory, and asked if he had any suggestions.  He told me to return that Thursday at noon and he would bring me to one.  Now, naturally, I was wondering what the catch was. Often, people are kind and do things for you… but just as often there is a hook when someone offers their kindness,  at times involving unreasonable commission to themselves or business to a friend.  However, I wanted to visit a candy factory, and I was willing to pay money/commission if necessary, so I agreed to meet.

(And you see, again, how negative long-term travel can be when dealing with locals.  After nine months, I find it extremely hard to trust local people and not assume gifts have strings attached.  This can really be a bit of a downer, and it’s one reason I tend to hang out with other backpackers - not having to worry about issues like touts, commissions, and the image of the western woman in Middle Eastern media makes things a lot easier!  Ironic, because the one real scam artist I met was actually an American traveler in Guatemala… but I digress!)

Anyway, I returned that Thursday at noon, and we set off.  First just to the Nashad candy store: a brightly-lit room full of baskets of sweet, chewy, taffy candies.  Kiwi, banana, coffee, cherry, cacao, pineapple, coconut, pistachio, sesame, and the interesting, slightly salty, and largely disgusting butter flavor. There were hundreds of varieties!  I loaded up on an enormous bag with all the flavors - the fruit ones being my favorite, of course! - and then Ahmad tried to arrange a visit to the Nashad factory.  Unfortunately, the manager was out of town (apparently a big candy convention in Europe that weekend) so we just left the store.

The call to prayer was ringing out over the market stalls, so Ahmad hustled into a mosque to pray while I waited outside on a bench and watched the crowd - women veiled in long black scarves and dresses, men with the red and white checked Bedouin head covering and thin cotton robes… Syria is very much a foreign looking land.

I was a bit disappointed to not be seeing any factories, and I think Ahmad had sensed that, because when he returned from the mosque he told me that we would still try and see a factory.  He knew of a town nearby Aleppo with many candy factories, and proposed we take a minibus there.  I agreed, but had no small change, so handed him the equivalent of around $20 in Syrian money to get change.

  The minibus was crowded, small, and smelly.  The scent of gasoline filled the air, and I dreaded any sparks… except everyone on board was smoking, so I guess it wasn’t that dangerous.  Everyone else on the bus was male… and definitely NOT blond-haired/blue-eyed.  There were a few young boys going home from madrassa, still dressed in identical cotton robes and flashing their student ID cards to anyone who’d look.

After about 45 minutes, we got off the bus (paying about 10 cents each) and walked down a long, dusty, empty street to a large building that smelled of chocolate.  Mmmm.  Walking in, we waited for a few minutes while Ahmad explained in Arabic my goals.  A lot of talking, shaking hands, and gesturing went on… the whole time I wasn’t sure what I should do, especially as I had just read in the travel Bible (AKA Lonely Planet) that sometimes devout Muslims won’t shake hands with women, as it makes them unclean before prayers.  Should I offer to shake hands?  Could I accidently insult someone and maybe lose out on my chance to see the factory?  I had no idea, so I just hung back, put my hand on my chest, as suggested in the LP, and waited.

Eventually, we got in. The manager of factory Al’Halabi, alas, requested that I not take any pictures, but it was still really cool.  The chief item being made was a sort of imitation Kit-Kat bar, only cheaper and with less caramel.  Everything was automated, with machines baking cookies, conveyors carrying them around to the caramel-squirting area, brown waterfalls coating them with a thin layer of chocolate… as with the Wilson factory, actually being in a mechanized candy factory is intoxicating, and I could just sit and watch the conveyor belts for hours.

Plus, I got free samples.  As mentioned, they tasted like cheaper Kit-Kats, but even so, tasting them fresh, warm, and right off the conveyor belt has its advantages.

I quizzed the factory manager about the company, picking up little tidbits of information that I’d fit into this article if it weren’t already so long, and then headed out, satisfied with the day.  Then, Ahmad suggested visiting a second factory!  Hooray!  This one was a bit smaller and made taffy candy similar to what I’d tried that morning.  The name was also suspiciously similar… Nashed Group rather than Nashed.   It was quite a bit newer, and apparently founded as an offshoot due to “trademark” issues.  Unfortunately, I was unable to delve more deeply than that, as it sounds like a juicy little story of family intrigue!  Still, we can all imagine what happens when candy companies go wrong.  Anyway, the candy was excellent, sweet and juicy.  It was simple: sugar, fat, and chemical flavoring to make about 30 different varieties of toffee and hard candy.  Again, cherry was my favorite flavor - a pale white square of gummy artificially cherry goodness.  I love that sort of thing, so I was in heaven when the manager (inconveniently also named Ahmed) brought outa small platter of fruit flavor varieties.  I tried not to be too greedy and eat them all right away, but I couldn’t resist picking the cherry and watermelon ones out.

Meanwhile, Ahmed was trying to figure out exactly what my job was.  “You write about candy on the internet?”  “Yep.”  “Do you write bad things?”  “No, almost never… all the candy I try is really good!”  (Well… except for salted black licorice.)  He was very nice and accomodating, answered all of my questions, and then, as we readied to leave, brought us TWO enormous sacks full of candy!  All in a good day’s work.

So, Ahmad and I headed out.   At this point, he still had the roughly $20 dollars I’d given him, and I hadn’t gotten change.  Still, I figured it was well-worth the inside knowledge and minibus fares that he’d paid, plus the whole thing had taken almost five hours from start to finish!  I was pleased about the day and considered the money well-spent.

We took the minibus back, then prepared to head in our separate directions (him to the restaurant and me to deposit my bag of booty in the hotel room.)  I thanked him, hugely, for the entire day.  He then took out his wallet and gave me exact change for the money I’d given him!  I tried to return some of it, but he refused.  Again, keep in mind this was five hours AND he’d paid for all my bus rides.  I felt quite bad about looking for that hidden hook earlier… and graciously accepted the money and thanked him again.  All in all, a memorable day, and one that gave me a very good impression of Syria.  Thanks Ahmad!!