Dedicated to Faith…..
Following my post “one year ago” it is about time I tell you what happened after I boarded the suicide Syrian Airline (it is chaos with the loudest passengers and it has dents on the side of the plane) with all Arabs and my America blond boy.
After several hours (six and a half to be exact) and a run thorough France we landed in Syria. I followed everyone, for I had no idea where I was going, we got to check out, and I started to queue up on the “British/ American” lane. A guard appeared immediately by my side, in Arabic he shouts “you are Somali” I look at him a bit funny “yes” I answer back, hoping he would leave me alone to ponder on why there was so many policeman in the airport. I noticed an Arab man shouting at one of the checkouts, although I could not hear what he was saying, he sounded Iraqi. “Follow me” the solider/ policeman barked at me. “Oh lord” I thought, I followed, “I am taking you to the area for immigration/ refugees….” (I could not understand everything he said) I stopped walking, he stopped too, I can sense he was getting annoyed with me. “I am not a refugee, I am a British citizen, so I am going back to the queue I was in” I start to turn back, “yes, but you are Somali, you must go thorough immigration” I was getting mad now, damn my Arabic it was letting me down, so I switched to English “did you hear me, I am here for a holiday, not to stay, I have British passport (I shoved it in his face, he snatched it off and started flicking thorough)…” I stopped as it dawned on me that he did not understand a word I just said. Errrrrrrg I was getting frustrated. I started speaking in my broke a*ss Arabic again, “give me my passport” I took it and started walking away back to the queue, he did not follow, as soon as got there, another one arrived “you are Somali, follow me” I wanted to cry but I laughed, I looked back, so I can point at the guard I was just speaking to earlier, but he blended into the dozen ugly uniforms walking around. “I don’t speak Arabic” I told him in English, “but you are Somali” he answered in Arabic. Alhumdulilah the first guy appeared again and took him away. I wanted to say thank him, but they left too quickly, I kept my head down for the rest of the time and looked at my shoes, I was wondering about my luggage, where is it and how do I collect it, I’ll ask the check out dude, I thought. I finally reached the front, where one chubby older guy sat with a slightly taller man standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.
Before I opened my mouth he said “you are Somali” and started to call one the policeman’s over, “follow him” I stood there staring at him, trying to calm down, I dropped my passport thorough the window to his side, he opened it, looked at the picture and then at me, “where is your visa” he said, I answered in English “The agent said I can get it from the Syrian Airport” He pointed me to a another check point, go there, change some money ($35) to Syrian money and get a visa and the come back to me. I did as I was told. It took another 30mins before I was done, In my haste to get out I forgot to ask where my luggage got to, but I did not have to look far, all the bags was in big hall with no guards, close to the entrance. I grabbed my suitcases and headed out into the sunshine, it was a beautiful day.
Fast forward to the next day, I was staying at Maashruucu Tomar, (or maybe Sharaqqu tomar) a nice quite hilly area with no shops for 20minutes walk. I won’t bore you with all the details, but in short I spent most of my time in Damascus.
Starting with the best part; my favourit and where I spent most of my time, the old Damascus, as Fabulous would say “It don’t get no better”!! Traditional restaurants, live music and entertainment, not to mention Saladins Tomb and Al qabani theater to mention a few.
Let me take you on a walk which I still remember so vividly (with the help of my loyal camera) starting with Souk Alhamadya, a beautiful little market with little shops that sell traditional items like jalabyas etc. I spent many afternoons there haggling with traders who force you to sit and drink tea while you work out a price (What is that about!?). At the end of the souk is the mosque AlOmayed, it is so beautiful, mashallah, I loved it. I can talk about this mosque all day, just this mosque deserves a post of its own and inshallah maybe one day I will, I spent hours inside it and they even do tours in English and tell you about the significant and history of each and every bit. Carry on through the market because you will find the best shops for sweets and lovely spices etc. Finally dinner/ lunch at old Damascus restaurant is a must, it is called Dimashk alqadyma they had old guns and weapons and waiters dressed in traditional clothes with nasty coffee (worse than Turkish coffee, it is so strong, I still have nightmares about it)
Baab Touma has the most beautiful buildings and nice places to sit and how could I forget Hamaams.
Also in Damascus, the mountain of Bloudan offers one of the best views possible, It was snowing up in the mountain when I went and I had dinner at at Mora, I went further up the mountain, and they told us we must head down because the snow was getting really heavy and the road will be unsafe. Sadly I did not have time to go back to it. I also went to Boukein.
Speaking of mountains Jabal Qasyoun, made me want to move to Damascus for good, it is such beautiful view, that it is a wonder why any Syrians will leave Syrian for places like London! I eat in Ahla Tuleh, Which sits on the side of the mounting with the best food and view.
New Damascus was okay, I was not too excited by it, not much to it unless you want to extensively eat out/ smoke shisha and clubbing. I did go to the National Museum, the historical Museum and Al Salhia. All I remember about New Damascus is eating out!
Out side of Damascus, I went to Latakia and it was a lovely seaside, with sea food and a day trip up the mounting, so beautiful. I also went to Aleppo and Palmyra, passed Tadmor and Homs (Khaled ibn al-Walid mosque and so many old churches) on the way, but this is another story for another time.
