After more than one year of living in Syria, my love life had turned out to be much more varied than I ever could have expected. Hidden behind a curtain of social norms and religious habits, deep lust and longing had unveiled itself to me and more than once I had deeply gotten entangled in a night of passionate sex with an Arab woman. However, my latest adventure proved to be even more daring and surprising than the previous ones.
May was just the perfect month to be in Damascus: hot like a European summer, trees and flowers in full blossom and the entire city was waking up from its self-imposed winter sleep by strolling around until late at night. It was also the time when the old town houses converted into restaurants started opening up the roof of their court yards to reveal the night skies to the diners below.
I had the chance to spend one of these wonderful evenings with some friends and colleagues, enjoying the various delicacies of Syrian cuisine at its best. While lazily puffing away on a hubble bubble (or narghile in Arabic), I noticed the big party that had taken the table next to us. While most of them were couples in their 50ies and 60ies, the sight of two women in their midst struck me as quite unusual.
First the fact that they did not really fit into the group; and second that although they seemed to be close friends, they could not have been more different in their appearance: one was clearly influenced by Western society and dressed that way with tight jeans, a stretched top showing her curvy figure and long, curly hair to perfectly frame her oriental features; the other one was covered in the black Arabic dress, the abbaya, including the matching head scarf so that only her dark, black eyes showed.
While I was watching them, I realised that they must have been observing me before, since they started discussing some topic while looking into my direction. Their giggling seemed to confirm my suspicions, and suddenly I was met with two brightly lit pairs of eyes looking into mine and starting to smile. Somehow uncertain about this unexpected show of attention, I returned to my hubble bubble and kept puffing away.
However, every time my look wandered into their direction, I caught a smile or a glimpse of something undefined by both of them, as if they were sizing me up for something – not quite the usual way of consideration that I had gotten used to in Syria. Playing along with them, I gave them some of my most beautiful smiles and simply enjoyed the moments of the wonderful spring night.
When I excused myself to go to the bathroom, I did not immediately notice that both women also started in the same direction. When we almost bumped into each other in the anteroom, we seemed all equally surprised. After a moment of an insecure exchange of smiles, the Western-style woman was the first one to speak: "Btehki arabi (Do you speak Arabic)?" she asked me.
"Bass shway (Just a little)," I replied, "my English is a lot better. Do you speak English?"
"I do," she gave back, "but my friend only speaks a little bit. But she can understand quite well!"
"Then maybe English is the better option," I suggested with a smile. "What are your names?"
"I am Samira and my friend's name is Zahra."
I brought my hand to my heart, observing the Arabian rule not to shake hands with women, and introduced myself.
Into the little pause that followed, Samira spoke again: "Can we have your phone number?"
"Oh yes, of course," I replied quite surprised; this was really an unusual move. But I was not willing to spoil the moment, although I did not really make much of all that.
Samira took down my number into her cell phone. Then she motioned towards the toilets: "I guess we better continue, otherwise everybody will be wondering where we are!" And with a final look to me she said: "We will call you; we want to meet you again!"
Zahra had been following our conversation with a certain reserve, although she gave the impression of having understood the topic. As if to make up for her silence, she gave me one deep and long final look from her dark eyes before disappearing behind her friend into the bathroom.
Still wondering, I emerged shortly after to rejoin my friends at the table, where we got ready to pay the bill and leave. A final look to the neighbouring table was met by two pairs for eyes smiling happily – and both Samira and Zahra gave me a hidden bye-bye wave.
By the next day, I had almost forgotten about the incident at the restaurant, when in the afternoon, my cell phone announced an incoming call. Not recognizing the number, I answered and was met by a familiar voice: "Hi, this is Samira, you remember me from yesterday?"
Well, that was a real surprise! "Hi Samira, of course I remember you, but I never thought you would really call! How was your evening yesterday, did you stay for long at the restaurant?"
"Oh yes," she replied, "we stayed for quite long, it was just a shame that you had left so early! We had much more fun when you were still there."
"Well, I could see that, you two were constantly gossiping secretly in my direction. What did you talk about?"
"Women's stuff," she answered teasingly, leaving a small pause after her remark. "What are you doing now; do you maybe have time for a coffee?"
