Road from Damascus

At the Damas Rose ice cream parlour, beads of sweat form on Yasser Arnous's brow as he pounds away with a giant wooden pestle.
With his free hand, he tosses crushed pistachios into the metal drum he is working at, then lifts out his flattened ice cream pancake and deftly rolls it into a long sausage, slices off the end and deposits the sweetened goo into two paper cups, which he hands to a couple of waiting customers.
It looks as good as the booza served in Bakdash, the renowned parlour that has been dishing up pistachio ice cream in Damascus's Al Hamidiyah souq since 1885. Judging by the customers' satisfied expressions, it tastes as good, too.
"Habibi, masalaamah," Arnous calls as his customers leave, casting a last, longing glance at the dizzying array of glazed, sugary delights in glass cases, from pistachio baklava to kataif laden with cream and walnuts and buttery knafe bil jibn.
It could be Damascus, Beirut, Amman or anywhere in the Middle East, were it not for the bitter wind gusting sheets of rain onto pavement cafes. Diners and smokers sit oblivious to the inclement midday weather and opt for shelter under canopies instead of being driven indoors.
If the cold were not enough of a giveaway, the red double-decker bus trundling past surely is. Welcome to Little Arabia, the corner of London that for many Arabs is a home away from home.
Its official name is Edgware Road. To those who have made it their home, or are visiting this cultural and gastronomic hub offering vast slices of life in the Middle East, it has earned such nicknames as Little Beirut, Little Cairo or, simply, Arab Street.
So entrenched is the road in the psyche of those from the Middle East that it even formed the backdrop to a 30-part soap opera broadcast on MBC during Ramadan last year called Arabs In London.
The front of the Al Shishawi cafe became the Nile cafe, run by the character Haj Bayoumi, while duplicitous love affairs, betrayal and the lifestyle of millionaire playboys were enacted in the league of nationalities that make up this corner of Britain.
Shockingly, Edgware Road tube station was one of three targeted by the suicide bombers of July 7, 2005. Why, the British-born Iranian comedian Omid Djalili asked, would they have attacked a place "which, after Damascus, Mecca and Medina, is the most Islamic place on the planet?"
From the Al Ahram and British Arabic Centre bookshops selling Middle Eastern newspapers and Lebanese fashion magazines, to Al Mustafa's abaya store, to furniture shops selling everything from gold velvet sofas to Moroccan tea glasses, to the many shisha cafes and restaurants, it is possible to spend a day barely hearing a word of English.
"This road is famous throughout the Arab world and Asia," says Mahmoud Helmy, 53, sipping mint tea. He is on holiday from Egypt with his wife, Iman. "Everyone knows you can get oriental food, smoke shisha and hear your own language being spoken. Arabs come here to find each other."
And that can be easily accomplished.
"Arabs are arguably the longest-residing, non-European ethnic group in the British Isles," says Dr Ismail al Jalili, the chairman of the National Association of British Arabs, which promotes Arab culture and history among expatriates in the UK.
"Their presence is largely a consequence of Britain's colonial past, although it is known that the Romans brought Arab archers with them."
Of the half a million Arabs living in the UK, about 300,000 are estimated to be in London - and many of those base themselves around Edgware Road. Why that district should be such a draw is something of a mystery, but plenty of theories abound.
Some say savvy Arabs, with their background in trade, realised the road's potential as the main thoroughfare for serving everywhere north of the capital. It has the convenience of being centrally located; the busy shopping district of Oxford Street is just a stone's throw away.
More simply, Britain has been doing business with the Middle East since medieval times so it seems appropriate that Arabs settling in the UK should choose one of the oldest roads in the country.
Edgware Road was originally an ancient track used by Celtic Britons through the Great Middlesex Forest. When the Romans came, they turned it into a major thoroughfare, known as Watling Street, running from Wales through London to the south-east coast.
From the 1580s, increased trade brought "Mahometans" from the Ottoman Empire to London; references to them crop up in Shakespeare's plays and other literary works.
Fascination with the Orient and goods such as silk and spices made the settlers an increasingly recognisable part of London life; Edgware Road, a thriving transport and commercial hub, became a natural destination.
The essayist Joseph Addison remarked of London in the 18th century: "When I consider this great city, in its several quarters or divisions, I look upon it as aggregrate of various nations, distinguished from each other by their respective customs, manners and interests."
At the same time, the road became a refuge for Huguenots escaping persecution in France. But it was from the 19th century onwards that immigrants from the Middle East began arriving en masse, because of political oppression and turmoil in their homelands, for business or economic reasons or because they saw opportunities to lead a life they could not at home. Their ranks included Iranians as well as Arabs from the Gulf states, Syrians, Jordanians, Lebanese and Egyptians.
It is possible to mark key events in Middle Eastern history by the surge in population around the west London district.
The British capital became home to thousands of Assyrian Christians fleeing Iraq during the 1930s in the wake of the Simele massacre, when 3,000 of their people were killed. They were joined by Palestinians leaving after the creation of Israel in 1948, Algerians escaping political unrest in the 1950s and 1960s, Iraqis getting out of their homeland in 1958 after King Faisal II was overthrown, Lebanese from the 1970s onwards fleeing civil war, and Iranians going into exile after the Shah was overthrown in 1979.
While Edgware Road is more than 14km long, most Arab and Iranian communities flocked to a smaller stretch running from the Marylebone flyover to Marble Arch, where today an Odeon cinema is as likely to be showing films starring Egyptian screen legends as Hollywood blockbusters.
"There has always been an influx of immigrants to the area, presumably because it was a trade route," says Aimee Shalan, the head of development at the Council for Arab-British Understanding, a London-based organisation aiming to raise British awareness of Arab issues.
"People felt there were business and education opportunities and while that did not necessarily turn out to be the case, the road captures all of that - there is lots of wealth but there have also been pockets of deprivation. Now, though, it's one of the most expensive places to live in London."
City planners have only just started to catch on to the area's "culturally diverse" and "uniquely cosmopolitan" cachet and are now looking at tapping into that appeal to lure tourists with food and film festivals, street markets and theatre shows.
"It is crucial to give the area further definition by emphasising its cultural diversity and character," states the 2006 Edgware Road action plan from Westminster City Council. "The promotion of its own special identity will help define the Edgware Road and distinctive surrounding areas."
If the first generation to settle in Edgware Road were economic migrants or political exiles, their children have a foot in both camps. Educated in Britain, where they see their future, they nevertheless hark back to their roots. After all, it confronts them on every street corner.
Shkar Rashid, 30, an Iraqi Kurd, left his home in Baghdad a decade ago but is surrounded by mementos of his heritage in the restaurant he manages, called Slemani after the south Kurdistan city by the same name.
The menu features traditional Kurdish dishes such as lamb kozy - huge chunks of meat on a bed of rice and vegetable stew - and dolma - parcels of rice, mince and vegetables. Rich tapestries hang from the walls alongside pictures of Kurdistan in the 1950s, musical instruments such as the oud and the bozuk and a portrait of Sheikh Mahmud, who led a revolt against British-controlled southern Kurdistan in 1919.
"I like it here," Rashid says. "There is a big Iraqi Kurdish community so I feel at home, especially on this road, where there are so many different nationalities. I see my life here, even though my family has gone back to Kurdistan."
Altaf Hussain, 22, a British Pakistani law student, has travelled from Hull in the north of England to spend the day with three friends.
Puffing on watermelon and mint shisha, he admits: "This is a massive culture shock for us, even though we live in the UK. We don't have anything like this in Hull - there are no Arab areas or places to get halal food. You get a real mixture of cultures and everyone is welcome here. No one bats an eyelid, whether people passing by are wearing abayas or khanduras. We feel like we're on holiday."
Natalie Pilgrim, 39, and Eda Doganel, 28, feel like tourists in their own city as they enjoy a Lebanese banquet at Maroush, one of a chain of 16 restaurants across London, of which six are on Edgware Road.
"This is the first time I have been here and it feels like a different world, from the sounds and smells to the mix of cultures," says Pilgrim, who works for a food manufacturing firm.
As the light starts to fade, a world of neon suddenly comes to life as gaudy restaurant signs flicker on. A queue is already forming outside Cafe Helen, lit up in red and blue. Its legendary shawarmas and falafel and tahini wraps draw customers from its opening time of 6pm until it shuts at 6am.
The Al Saher Saloon has drawn quite a crowd, too, as customers wait patiently for a Dh60 barber treatment, a fraction of the price in upmarket Marylebone nearby.
Outside, the pavement is packed with diners and smokers - forced onto the streets since the 2007 English ban on smoking in enclosed public spaces - choosing the best place to people-watch .
Saudis Ahmed al Sunbel, 30, an environmental specialist; Nael al Ghanim, 34, a banker; and Zainab al Nasr, 24, a dietician, who are on holiday, puff on apple-infused tobacco at the Al Shishawi cafe.
"We knew of the place before we arrived. It is very popular among Arabs," says al Sunbel. "Everyone has heard of Edgware Road in Saudi. When people come back from London, they always talk of a place called Arab Street so we had to come to see it for ourselves.
"We love the restaurants, the shisha and the shopping. Sometimes you just feel like having a taste of your own culture, even if you are in a different place."
A different place it may be, thousands of miles from their birthplace, but Edgware Road's delights ensure nostalgic Arabs never feel far from home.
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Five regulars on Edgware Road tell M their stories of finding a refuge and a comfort zone.
The restaurateur: Mahamad Khalil, 35, owner of Al Arez restaurant, from Lebanon
I came from Tyre in South Lebanon 10 years ago to study English law at the City of Westminster College. I worked for five years in immigration and conveyancing law, where I used my Arabic to help clients.
My two younger brothers arrived in 2003 to work in restaurants. They could not afford to start their own business, so in 2004 I decided to open a restaurant called Al Arez, named after the cedar tree, the national tree of Lebanon.
I had no interest in the restaurant business before, but everyone loves their mother's cooking in Lebanon. It was easy for me to taste hummus and see when it wasn't right, plus I am very sociable so the industry suits me well.
My brothers still work for me and we now have three branches, with two more under construction.
While it was hard for my father to accept me leaving, he came to London last summer and was proud when he saw what I have achieved. He said he did not feel like a foreigner here because there were so many Lebanese people speaking Arabic.
For me, Edgware Road is not only my refuge, it represents my country, my people, and it is how I got to know London. It would take many years to travel to every country and get to know their customs, but here there are ambassadors from everywhere you can think of.
The pastry chef: Yasser Arnous, 28, pastry chef and ice cream maker at Damas Rose, from Syria
I have been here for 20 months. I wanted to learn English and find out about another culture. I heard about Edgware Road long before coming here. My brother had visited two years earlier and said there was a road in England where there were mostly Arabic-speaking people.
It was still a surprise to hear Arabic being spoken so widely when I got here. I have even met some English people who speak it fluently.
I got a job here because my friend owns this shop. We make the ice cream just like they do in Bakdash in Damascus. We use mastic gum and hammer the ice cream to make it sticky; it is a famous method. We have Syrian customers who come all the way from Cardiff in Wales.
In two months, I plan to start a degree in business management. I live with an English family, which helps me to improve my language skills. Here, life is very different. In my country people are generous; here, they just think about money. It is always raining here. I miss my family and friends. I think I will go back next year after my course finishes.
The bookseller: Adham Azzam, 42, salesman at the British Arabic Centre bookshop and newsagent, from Syria
I come from Swaida, 100km from Damascus, and have been in the UK for four years. I left my home city when I was 18 and went to Slovakia to study chemical engineering. I stayed there for 20 years. I got married and had a daughter there, although my wife and I are no longer together.
I left Slovakia four years ago and came to the UK, where I worked in a food processing company, and as a postman before starting work in this shop in January. I wanted a better life as there was not much money to be made in Slovakia.
I can find every country represented here. I did not want to work as a chemical engineer here though because my English is not the best. I speak Slovakian better than Arabic now and can also speak some French. Mostly, I speak Arabic to my customers. We supply newspapers like The National and Al Ittihad from the UAE, Al Qabas from Kuwait and Al Watani from Egypt.
Together with the owner of the shop, I am planning a much bigger project: to present Arabic culture to the world. We are setting up a website and will put things like health information on it. We want Arabs to understand what life in Europe is like.
It is also important for Europeans to understand about Arab culture. Of course, the younger generation understands these things better when they visit these countries.
The student: Dina Mohamed, 23, an English- language student from Egypt
I arrived a year ago from Alexandria after enrolling at the Victoria School of English in Chelsea. I work two days a week in the Al Mustafa gift and furniture shop in Edgware Road as I live nearby.
Back home in Egypt, I used to watch English-language movies and see pictures of Big Ben and I thought, I want to see all this for myself.
The weather makes it harder; it was freezing last December and snowed a lot. But otherwise it is exactly as I imagined.
This area is famous in Egypt - we call it Arab Road. I had seen pictures of it before I arrived as my friends had already visited and I wondered what kind of place in London would have Arabic signs everywhere.
When my friend posted pictures on Facebook, I told her: "That can't possibly be London." I feel like I am in Egypt here. Everywhere I go, I hear people speaking Arabic in different accents.
The only drawback is, it's made my English worse because I speak Arabic all the time and don't get to practise. When I shared a flat with some Latvians, I got more of a chance to speak English.
I think the community here should mix more with the outside world.
It is also very expensive for things like food and shisha here. I would like to stay for another year to finish my course but then I think I will go back to Egypt.
The shisha smoker: Ambreen Bilgrami, 22, a teaching assistant at a secondary school, from London
I started coming here when I was 16 years old. I love smoking shisha - it is one of those social things you do with your friends.
The first time I tried it was at a place in Edgware Road. I used to come about three times a week but since the smoking ban came in, I have cut down my visits because it is horrible having to smoke outside.
I come about once a week now. A shisha costs Dh90, which is quite expensive.
There are quite a few places around west London offering shisha but the advantage here is the good food, nice people and the fact that everyone is really friendly. It has a great community spirit.
People will just start chatting to you without waiting for an introduction. Often they think my friends and I are Arab because of the way we wear our hair high under our sheylas, but my parents are Pakistani.
I come here to relax. I was born in London and this is the only place in the city like it. You can eat in any restaurant without worrying whether the food is halal.
Usually, we get a shawarma from Al Arez or Maroush and smoke shisha at Al Shishawi or the Palm Palace. I go shopping with friends in Oxford Street and come here afterwards.
As we are Muslim, we don't go to pubs and don't drink but we do need somewhere to feel relaxed and comfortable when we are not working. Because we are surrounded by so many people from a similar background here, this place is a real comfort zone for us.