At Zahawi on Rasheed Street, Yasser al-Assasi, a 59-year-old taxi driver, and his friend Ibrahim Rasheed, a 50-year-old civil servant, lean intently over a backgammon board.

After taking a drag on the "nargileh" (water pipe), Assasi tosses the dice and advances his pieces around the wooden board before letting his opponent take his turn.

In this century-old cafe with walls yellowed by the years, tobacco and tea kettles smoke and steam amid the low benches and small tables.

While some of the clientele chat or read newspapers, most come with only two things in mind -- backgammon and dominoes.

"Since the beginning of the war, it's been rare to find a fare so after doing some errands, I come around at about 8:30 in the morning. That's a time I can always find someone to play against," Assasi said, savoring another pull from his water pipe.

Before the conflict erupted, he only came to the cafe to play about once a week -- usually Fridays. But for the last 15 days, he has spent three hours a day in the relative bliss of a parlor game.

"We do talk about the war here, of course, but after a while I forget everything, the bombs, the tears of the children, how hard it is to earn money," he said, looking remarkably happy.

Two tables away, Salah Abdel Hassan, a 40-year-old shopkeeper in Kathamiyeh, a southern district that has come in for relentless coalition bombing, slaps his domino loudly on the red formica table.

For four hours of peace, he makes a 30-minute journey twice each day.

"The tradition in the east is for the woman to stay at home. Because my shop is closed, you have to do something and if I stay home, my wife kicks me out to keep me from getting underfoot," he explained.

"I hope that they call up the reservists soon so I would at least feel useful," he said.

His opponent, 60-year-old Kader Ahmad, is a waiter at a cafe on Atanabi street, a neighborhood of bookshops. His employer closed up the establishment when the hostilities began.

"I am a widow and I hate being alone. That's why I come here when they open and play dominoes until they close in the evening," he confides.

Not far away, cafe Umm Kalsum is the rendez-vous of choice for the chess players. The room has been expanded, the decor is a touch gaudy and it is here that the lovers of the game come to wile away the hours and listen to the music of their favorite Egyptian diva.

"People of a certain age, like me, do not want to let the current catastrophe change our lives -- if we did, we'd all fall ill. That's why we do everything to maintain a normal life," said Jalil Ibrahim, a 52-year-old civil servant at the health ministry.

If the war has left many people twiddling their thumbs, Ibrahim recognizes that his idle days are numbered because he has joined the ruling Baath party's militia to fight the "US-British invaders."

The young play chess a bit but do not frequent the cafe. "They don't like this music from the 1950s and 1960s and find it's a little slow here," he said.

Most young people prefer the 700-odd billiard halls in the capital.

At the Garage Club on Sanaha Street, the air is smokey and the average age is under 25.

At six tables, the players laugh as they take aim with their cues while the others lean on the walls waiting for their go.

"Since the schools and shops are shut and the bombardments cut off phone services, we meet up here every afternoon," said Naswan Nabil, 20, who normally works at a computer game store.

His friends are students and the atmosphere is easy-going.

No one bats an eye at the noise of a nearby explosion.

"What else could we do all day? At least here we have some fun," Nabil said.

SPACE.WIRE