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A week of despair, birthdays, liverpuddian underground bars, museums, Bob Marley and O Brother Where Art Thou?

Despair because I am convinced my Arabic has not improved in the slightest.

Birthdays because yes, twas India's birthday and we managed to spend several hours in two shops resolutely haggling down the price of the necklaces we were giving to each other (my late birthday present which was much more fun to open while someone was opening theirs). Being good students we did actually go into classes and we had a special birthday hour (it was Sophia's birthday aswell) with vast amounts of cake, tart, tea, biscuits and, of course, our good friend the old captain corn. Anthony (whose name, for reasons known only to himself, our teacher Hamdu has started to get confused with India's) managed to procure chocolate birthday cake that actually tasted of chocolate and was the tastiest thing I have had here. Included with this cake were two huge rocket like objects that, once lit, fizzled away like the roman candles one would see in a fireworks display back home. After fears that we would set the classroom alight were dispelled we dug into the feast and played a nerdy guess-the-arabic-word party game which Hamdu presided over enthusiastically. As I sat there, trying to explain the words candle, cake and present, I thought all was well in the world.

Things were more well in the world than I thought as I discovered the next day, when Jessie and I attended choir and then headed to Karen's birthday party somewhere in Mezze. We were fortunate enough not to have to pay the extortionate taxi fee, as we were lent a car and driver by the couple who organize the choir meetings. We got a lift with them as far as their home, and then they asked their driver to take us to where we needed to go. It was wonderful.

Karen's party was held in a very random place. We entered the gates of an ordinary looking house, to be led down into a basement which was the bachelor-pad like haunt of Bill, a Liverpuddlian who used to play with Paul McCartney and had all sorts of photos and regalia decorating his walls, including an impressive selection of hats. Not only was there a well-stocked bar, there was also a band down there, complete with keyboard, PA, drumkit and mics. Karen, as befitting the occasion, was on fine form and I passed a pleasant eve listening to live music and talking to the random assortment of people present, including a guy who had been to Kurdistan with our mutual friend Matthew Blome the poet. I really want to go to Kurdistan.

When I arrived an hour late with India the next day into University (we felt obliged to actually buy the book we are supposed to be studying) we found to our surprise that everyone was getting ready to leave. Half an hour and a green bus journey later (an entire green bus to ourselves I might add) we were at the National Museum and were given a tour of the place by Bashar. In Arabic.Now, harsh things are said about the museum which is why I had been reluctant to visit the place, but actually when given a tour it was much more informative. The synagogue, which was moved in its entirety from Dura Europos, was a definite highlight as the interior of it is painted with images depicting humans and objects rather than just abstract patterns and is pretty much the only one known to have this. It was amazing to look at and strange to see more Greek inside than Hebrew or Aramaic. Speaking of which, what came first, Aramaic or Hebrew?

Another highlight for me which tussles for top spot with the synagogue was the oldest known musical manuscript in a cuneiform tablet. It was incredible to see it right in front of me, this tiny old shard of rock chipped out in illegible script that once made musical sense to people. I want to go back to the British museum now and rifle through their ancient near east music collection…

I went straight from the museum to teaching where I had a grand total of 4 students in the class. I can hardly blame half the students I saw walking out and then greeting me somewhat sheepishly; they have had exams. Still twas just me and them as Hani has been away this week and so, evidently inspired by my trip to the museum, we talked about the wonders of the world, both ancient and modern. I realised with a little alarm I could not remember the ancient wonders of the world, but we had much more fun creating our own. I then gave then 5 minutes to name a place or country they most want to go to and agreed to do it myself too. I did well, managing to whittle my choices down to 12 before time was up. We had votes for Paris, Spain, Iran, Istanbul, Germany and China amongst others. None for Britain alas, but I'll work on it. The afternoon ended with a critical analysis of Bob Marley's Redemption Song. Well, cirtical analysis was more filling in the blanks, explaining what some of the more complex words were (triumphantly, generation, slavery, emancipation, prophets etc) and then I asked them, after listening to the song a couple of times what they thought redemption actually meant, whilst I desperately racked my brains for a good explanation. I have no idea what I'll play them next week, we've done the Bobs and the Beatles, perhaps a bit of Queen?

There was an impromptu party and mine and India's on Thursday night which I am still feeling guilty about because we were playing music until 3am - I blame the presence of a guitar. It was all in honour of finally sitting down to watch O Brother Where Art Thou, or in Syrian, ya akhi waynak? India and I, after much dithering, decided to cook spaghetti with spinach, courgette and tomato sauce with various tasty flavourings. I must say despite the distinct lack of space the kitchen did (only just) allow catering for 8 people which is quite an achievement. We shifted the sofa in my room to give enough space and then commenced the watching. Ah what joy! I think it was all this wonderful music that inspired our own endeavours to continue for so long. That and the arak I imagine. I am waiting to bump into Hiba and apologise profusely for the noise which we hoped would not travel but must have done nonetheless. Then I recall in my mind the amazing mixture of musicians we got yesterday at Sam's with the first semi meeting of Mitch's proposed band. We now have Mitch's American Country with Sam and my vaguely British folk tendencies, a classical violinist, a jazz guitarist, Latin American trumpeter and Shivan's traditional Kurdish saz. We are going to have to work hard to blend these styles, very hard indeed. Still, our first couple of jams were looking hopeful, as was the emerging version of shankhill butchers with muted trumpet and saz solos. If this works, it will be quite something, and quite a parting gift to give the unsuspecting Syrian people barely a few days before I leave. Better get practising.