Pages From Damascus

I’ve always wanted to go to Damascus. Ever since I was a kid I loved watching history and culture documentaries on TV, and Damascus always came up as one of those places that felt almost mythical. One of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, layers upon layers of history, religion, trade and conflict all stacked on top of each other.

By the time I started travelling properly, the civil war in Syria had broken out, so the country was firmly off the cards. For years it stayed that way. Since the fall of the Assad regime, Syria has slowly moved back into the realm of “maybe one day”, and recently it jumped straight to the top of my list.

Getting to Damascus

There are a few ways into Syria, but going overland from Beirut is by far the easiest, so that was the plan. I’d spend some time in Lebanon, a country I’d also never visited, then head east to Damascus.

Beirut is an absolutely brilliant city. Chaotic, energetic, creative, a bit rough around the edges in places, but full of life. I can easily see myself going back one day to spend a few months there, ideally when the weather is nicer.

I started the Syria leg of the trip early one morning by getting a taxi to Cola Junction. It’s an informal bus depot where battered minivans head off all over Lebanon. I arrived, said “Damascus”, and an old bloke immediately waved me towards a minivan that looked like it was being held together by rust and body filler alone. I was the first passenger, so I dumped my bag on the front seat and walked to a nearby bakery for breakfast.

I picked up a za’atar manoushe, a soft flatbread topped with za’atar spices. It’s about as basic as Lebanese food gets, but it’s one of my favourite breakfasts anywhere.

Eventually the van filled up, mostly with Lebanese military, and we headed out of Beirut. The road climbed steeply out of the city and gave some cracking views back over the coastline. After about an hour, the soldiers were dropped off one by one until it was just me and the driver.

He kept asking me something in Arabic, which I did not understand, until he pulled over and told me to get out and into a random car with Syrian number plates. It turned out he’d arranged a shared taxi all the way to Damascus for 20 dollars.

It was around this point that reality properly set in. I was heading into another risky country, and this time there was no airport bubble to soften the landing.

Another twenty minutes later we were at the border. Exiting Lebanon took only a few minutes, then we rolled up to the Syrian side. There were maybe ten people there who spoke English, mostly Middle Eastern, with a couple of Chinese travellers as well. Foreigners didn’t seem to have much trouble getting through, although they took a special interest in my passport. I’ve got 100+ stamps and visas, and they spent a good few minutes flicking through and asking about different countries. It felt more like curiosity than suspicion.

And just like that, I was in Syria. Country number 95.

After a handful of checkpoints, we were driving through the Syrian countryside. I passed smashed portraits of Assad, road signs with old slogans painted over, and newly repainted flags. Then suddenly the outskirts of Damascus appeared and before I really had time to process it, we were in the city.

The taxi dropped me at a motorway junction and I hopped into an ancient yellow cab for the final stretch into town.

First impressions

My first impression of Damascus was pretty much what I expected. A busy, noisy Middle Eastern city, full of traffic, beeping cars and people everywhere. Outside the old town it actually reminded me a lot of Cairo at first glance.

Once I reached the old city, I got my first reminder that Syria has been through some serious economic pain. I changed 100 US dollars with a shop owner and he handed me a stack of over 250 banknotes. I knew inflation was bad, but holding that much cash in my hands really drove it home. From that moment on I was walking around with thick wedges of notes stuffed into my pockets.

Damascus Old Town

The old town is the real highlight of Damascus. A maze of narrow streets, ancient stone buildings, hidden courtyards and busy souks that feel like they haven’t changed much in hundreds of years. You can wander for hours and constantly stumble across something interesting.

I was stopped by security forces quite a few times, but it never felt aggressive. Most of the time they were just checking where I was from, asking if I needed help, or making sure I was enjoying my time in Syria.

One afternoon I was taking photos of a building with beautiful stonework when the caretaker came out and insisted I go inside. It turned out to be an 800 year old school, quietly tucked away behind an unassuming doorway. Moments like that happened frequently in Damascus, where people want to show the foreigner their city.

The central palace was another highlight. Locals went out of their way to show me around and explain what I was looking at in English, clearly proud of their city and its history.

The Christian quarter was especially lively, with Christmas decorations, lights, and celebrations spilling out onto the streets. It felt surprisingly festive given everything the country has been through.

Yes, there are pubs in Damascus, and yes, they served alcohol. The local beer is actually pretty good, and sitting in a bar chatting to Syrians about life felt strangely normal.

Syrian food deserves its own mention. It’s absolutely fantastic and easily on par with Lebanon or Iraq. Simple dishes done incredibly well, fresh bread everywhere, and flavours that never get boring.

Beyond Damascus

The original plan was to leave Damascus after a few days, head to the coastal city of Latakia, then travel north to Aleppo and fly out to Ankara from there.

Aleppo is another place I’ve wanted to visit for years, especially the citadel. Unfortunately, it’s going to stay on the list for now.

Shortly after I arrived in Syria, tensions in the north started rising again, particularly involving the SDF. Buildings in Aleppo were being shelled and people were being killed. Given how quickly the security situation can change, flying out of Aleppo suddenly felt like a very bad idea.

I also had a hard deadline looming. I needed to be back in Turkey to fly home to the UK before New Year’s Eve, so time wasn’t on my side. In an ideal world I would’ve gone to Aleppo and then travelled back to Damascus to fly out, but realistically it just wasn’t going to work.

In the end, the sensible option was to fly out of Damascus and leave northern Syria for another trip. Maybe one day Aleppo, Palmyra, and more of the country will be easier to reach. Palmyra in particular was completely off the cards this time. ISIS cells had killed US soldiers there on the very day I entered Syria, which made the decision to not go easy.

Shortly after I arrived in Syria, tensions in the north started rising again, particularly involving the SDF. Buildings in Aleppo were being shelled and people were being killed. Given how quickly the security situation can change, flying out of Aleppo suddenly felt like a very bad idea.

I also had a hard deadline looming. I needed to be back in Turkey to fly home to the UK before New Year’s Eve, so time wasn’t on my side. In an ideal world I would’ve gone to Aleppo and then travelled back to Damascus to fly out, but realistically it just wasn’t going to work.

In the end, the sensible option was to fly out of Damascus and leave northern Syria for another trip. Maybe one day Aleppo, Palmyra, and more of the country will be easier to reach. Palmyra in particular was completely off the cards this time. ISIS cells had killed US soldiers there on the very day I entered Syria, which made the decision to not go easy.

Thoughts on Syria

Syria met my expectations and then some. I went in fully aware of the country’s troubled recent history, but it was still striking to see Damascus as a living, breathing, thriving city.

That’s not to say everything is fine. The security presence is heavy, with armed men on pretty much every street. At one point I even saw a kid, maybe 13 or 14 years old, carrying an AK47.

But it’s surprisingly easy to look past the slow internet, awful traffic, lack of ATMs, and constant security checks when you’re surrounded by such deep history and genuine warmth from the people.

Damascus is a place I truly loved. I hope the current government manages to steer Syria towards stability and prosperity, because the country deserves it. Damascus has the potential to be high on everyone’s travel list again, and once sanctions lift I think we’ll see people slowly returning.

I know I will. I’m already looking forward to seeing how the city evolves, and to exploring the parts of Syria I had to leave for another time.