Holy Land Travel Special: Damascus

Time Out takes a trip to Syria‘s capital, Damascus – the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world

Omayyad Mosque, Damascus

The first page of the English-language version of the Damascus Yellow Pages features a colour photograph of the Syrian leader over the words: President of the Syrian Arab Republic Bashar al-Assad. On the corresponding page of the Arabic version of the Damascus Yellow Pages, a blonde woman with a plunging neckline advertises a people-carrier. Clearly, as dictatorships go, Syria is confused and slightly comical. It is also safe to visit; in fact, it’s one of the most welcoming places in the world, despite living with the threat of a visit from the Israeli or US air forces and having experienced a century of Western betrayal and lies – not least being told by TE Lawrence (of Arabia) that fighting for the British in WWI would earn it independence.

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It actually earned Syria occupation by the French; and if you walk down the main street of the Souq al-Hamidiyeh covered market in the old city, the shafts of light pierce down into gloom through bulletholes shot into the corrugated-iron roof during the unsuccessful rebellion in the 1930s. Happily, as well as reminding us of the West’s long record of killing Arabs, these also point the way to Bekdach, the best ice-cream shop in the Middle East. Established on the Souq’s main thoroughfare in 1895, this chaotic tiled and panelled café has tables at the back and a counter at the entrance, which serves fantastic lemon, rosewater and pistachio-flavoured ice creams for less than a pound. There isn’t a queuing system; just buy a token from the till and push your way to the front.

As you wander through the souk’s alleys – dripping ice cream as you go – you’ll be approached by shopkeepers keen to show you rolls of silk, carpets, inlaid wooden trinkets and, if you’re so inclined, polyester Hezbollah flags for two dollars. Don’t be afraid to say no – Damascus is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world and its citizens are too dignified to chase anyone for money.

Go deeper into the old city and you’ll find Ottoman-era coffee houses behind the incomparable Omayyad Mosque (also the site of Saladin’s tomb). Take a thick, black coffee, pull on a hookah and watch the men arguing over the newspapers. If you need something stronger, head on into Bab Sharqi, the Christian quarter (although the majority of Syrians are Sunni, this a religiously diverse society: Shiite, Druze, Armenian Christians, Greek Orthodox, Syrian Christian and Roman Catholics are free to worship as they wish), where restaurants serve alcohol. On the way, you’ll pass Street Called Straight, the site of St Paul’s conversion.

For an aperitif, go to the Four Seasons (Shukri al Quatli Street, Damascus). Built to service a tourist bonanza that never came, the hotel’s pricing policy reflects its need for business. In the wood-panelled cigar bar you pay the equivalent of £2 for a gigantic gin and tonic and as many nibbles as you can eat. And the nibbles are worth eating, as Syria is the home of the pistachio, known to Arabs as Aleppo nuts.

Aleppo lies 355 km north of Damascus. You can fly in an hour, take a train from the famous Hejaz railway station (the departure point for the Ottoman troop trains that were preyed upon by TE Lawrence during WWI), taking five hours, or – like us – risk the lunatic drivers on the main north-south highway. Alongside the road, billboards carry the portraits of Assad, his late father Hafez and brother Basil, whose fatal car crash in 1994 meant Bashir, previously training as an optometrist in London, became president when his father died. Bashir looks like a bank clerk; the bearded Basil like mid-period George Michael.

In Aleppo you’ll find the small but important Baron Hotel (Baron Street). The ground floor is virtually unchanged since its glory days in the first half of the twentieth century, when Agatha Christie and Winston Churchill stayed; in the lounge you can see Lawrence’s (unpaid) bill.

In summer, drinks are served on the terrace which used to look out over marshes full of live fowl that guests shot from the table. Now it’s a dense city and at its centre lies the Citadel, Sultan al-Zahir al-Ghazi’s twelfth-century fortress, on a mound that dominates Aleppo.

Climb up the citadel then come down into the Armenian quarter where ancient alleys streets hide fantastic restaurants like Sissi’s (ask to be shown the erotic grotto in the basement) serving meze that would shame the finest London Lebanese restaurant. Only the beer, flat and murky, is disappointing and made, like all alcohol and cigarettes in the country, by the state. Sadly, Syria was never occupied by the Czechs.

Getting there
Syrian Arab Airlines flies from Heathrow to Damascus from £293 return.

Where to stay
Al Rabie Hotel (00 11 231 8374), Saruja-Bahsa. Double from £250.

Where to eat
Beit as-Sissi (00 11 221 9411), Sharia as-Sissi. A restored seventeenth-century house with tables in its courtyard (takes credit cards).

Michael Hodges