By Zeina Yagan
Scene One: The Tears at the Airport
After landing at Damascus International Airport, and while being transferred to the airport building, I could not hold back my tears.
Am I really in Damascus?
From the very first glance, I felt a deep sadness. The airport simply does not suit you, Damascus. You deserve a better one.
And yet, amid this feeling of heaviness, there was warmth. The people working inside the airport were highly professional, generous, and smiling. They were doing their best to leave a warm first impression on Syrians coming back home. In that moment, longing prevailed over everything else.
Scene Two: The Road to the Old City
I had organized my trip to Syria through “Syria Booking,” a local initiative managed by young Syrians who assist expatriates and tourists wishing to visit the country by arranging transportation, accommodation, and other travel facilities.
They provided me with a private taxi to pick me up from the airport and take me toward the old city, in Bab Touma.
All along the way, I kept looking at the streets, the roads, the buildings. The city looked tired. And yet, somehow, it was still itself.
All along the way, I kept looking at the streets, the roads, the buildings. The city looked tired. And yet, somehow, it was still itself.
The dark basalt stones. A Peugeot family car here. A Skoda behind it. A big Range Rover passing by. Slowly, we were approaching the city.
Then the driver said: “Here we are. We’ve arrived.”
I could not believe it.
What? How come? Where is the hotel?
There was no clear sign, no immediate landmark telling me that we were in the old town. I was expecting to see paved sidewalks, small shops with unified wooden doors, or some visual harmony that would announce: you are now entering old Damascus.
But this was not visible from the outside.
“You just need to walk ahead, then turn right,” the driver told me.
So I pulled out my luggage and started walking. The smell of Syrian pies dominated the place. I stopped at one of the small bakeries, bought three pies, gathered my bags again, and continued my way until I arrived at Dar Al-Yasmin hotel.
This hotel is one of the beautiful old Damascene houses in the city, located only around 200 meters from Beit Al-Wali, another sublime hotel based on the same concept: old Damascene houses transformed into charming boutique hotels.
These houses are integrated into what is called a chain of “hôtels de charme.” They are inspired by old Damascene architecture, often connecting two or three traditional houses together in order to benefit from the space, with fountains — or “bahra” — in each courtyard, preparing visitors for an unforgettable experience filled with the memory of the place.
Once I entered my room, the scent of cleanliness perfumed the space. Each room was designed differently, reflecting an oriental theme. Mine felt authentic: a mixture of stone and wood, wardrobes carved into the walls, and tiles inspired by the Umayyad-Andalusian style.
In Seville, we used to call this style “alicatado,” a word that originates from the Arabic “al-qata” ( القطع) meaning “the pieces.”
Scene Three: The Old Districts and the Taste of Damascus
I quickly put down my things and started walking through the old districts.
Little by little, the landmarks of old Damascus began to appear. Graffiti was everywhere. One sentence caught my attention, a quote by the writer Adham Al-Sharkawi:
“All cities are merely places; only Damascus is a place of love.”
It was the first day of Eid Al-Adha. The crowd was alive and constantly moving. I kept bumping into people here and there: young boys and girls, families, couples, the modern, the traditional, and some faces that felt unfamiliar to my eyes.
Street photographers were among the most surprising phenomena I encountered. Young men holding cameras, choosing the best corners of the old town, and offering people professional photos as souvenirs. It seemed as if they were coordinating, in a subtle way, with flower sellers, creating together a small cinematic moment for their clients to keep as a memory.
On the other hand, no country can truly beat street food in Syria.
I am not only talking about shawarma or potato sandwiches. What made me happy was seeing how authentic Syrian dishes had been adapted to fit the idea of street food, while remaining clean, generous, and delicious: yalanci, charcoal-grilled kebbeh, and many other small bites that carry the soul of Syrian cuisine.
The Syrian croissant is very different from the European one. It is larger, more generous, cheaper, and somehow made with love.
And by the way, have you ever heard of ice cream on saj? in my opinion, it’s a pure Syrian patent.
I cannot forget the fruits either. It was the season of green plums and jujubes, and I believe you can only taste them with that same pleasure in Syria.
What I saw in Damascus, in my opinion, equals — if not surpasses — the street food of Taksim in Istanbul.
Scene Four: From Al-Nawfara to the Umayyad Mosque
The noise of the old streets is, by itself, a kind of music.
I sat at Al-Nawfara café, an old traditional café that has preserved the legend of the “hakawati”: that kind and dignified storyteller who used to sit on his distinguished chair and narrate stories to an audience gathered around him, listening carefully.
Right in front, the Umayyad Mosque overlooks the place.
One word is enough to describe it: splendid.
Its history compresses around 2,500 years: from an Aramaic, Greek, and Roman temple, to a Byzantine cathedral, until the Umayyad Caliph Al-Walid transformed it into a mosque. No building can compete with its splendor, except the Umayyad Mosque of Aleppo.
I then lost myself in the labyrinth of the old streets and found my own way to Al-Azem Palace, one of the most beautiful examples of Damascene houses during the Ottoman period.
I followed Medhat Pasha Souq, passing through Al-Buzuriyyah Souq — the spice market. On my way, I had to stop at Khan Asaad Pasha and Khan Suleiman Pasha, where I enjoyed a very nice coffee, my notebook beside me.
I arrived at my destination. First, Al-Azem Palace. Then I continued toward Beit Jibri.
Beit Jibri may be one of the oldest houses in Damascus, dating back around 700 years. Its three liwans (long, vaulted hall opening onto a central courtyard) testify to the richness of the house and the social status of its owners. Today, it has become a favorite meeting place for many Syrians, a place where people gather as if trying to revive and celebrate the golden days.
Scene Five: The People I Met
While walking through Bab Sharqi, I found a small café, almost like a hidden gem that had escaped from the city’s noise. Its name was Al-Manhal.
Apparently, many people know it, and it holds a special place in their hearts because of its noble purpose.
Inside, I met a respectable woman and her daughter. The coincidence was that I had already heard about them through social media. They have a nice restaurant apparently in Damascus, with a good reputation among their circle.
A short conversation took place between us.
- “Are you from Syria?”
- “Yes, from Aleppo.”
- “Oh, welcome back. You live abroad, obviously. How did you find Syrians?”
I paused for a moment. - “Well,” I said, “I believe we have become a non-homogeneous mixture. But this does not necessarily lead to bad consequences. We are no longer similar in the same way, and I cannot simply call the different Syrian strata ‘diversity.’ I believe we have become a very special combination of ingredients. But with smart policies of integration, living together can succeed.”
This was not a judgment. It was only an impression.
I can read Damascene society through four images:
Image 1: This represents the authentic Damascene spirit: a society that has preserved its identity, values, and sense of compassion. Honestly, I was not expecting to see all this “help” or what we called in UAE “fazza” ( فزعة) offered to the poor and the meskins. I was afraid that values such as tenderness and solidarity might have faded after 14 years of war, and that society would need a long time to recover. But I was completely wrong — and this made me believe even more in the greatness of Syria.
Image 2: This reflects a combination of expats and wealthy families who seem to enjoy showing off. The trend itself is understandable and exists everywhere in the world, especially since we are living in the age of globalization.
Image 3: This shows people who feel a bit unfamiliar to my Syrian eyes and somehow different from the traditional Damascene society. I believe they may be more or less influenced by the Turkish entourage and culture. For example, when I was sitting at Al Nawfara, I heard a man calling the waiter “khal” (خال ) in Arabic. This sounds like a Turkish influence, since in Turkish culture people may call the boss or elder figure “dayı,” meaning “uncle.” In Syria, and in our culture, we usually call the boss or the usta “Uncle” or “Mouallem” ( يا عم، يا معلم. ) However, I did not notice or experience any impolite behavior from these people; on the contrary, they were quite respectful.
Image 4: I have to say, this is the most painful image for me. It represents deeply vulnerable people — and I am not talking only about beggars, but about young children and little toddlers who most probably do not have families or proper care. Their language is rough, their behavior can be aggressive, and violence seems to have become part of their consciousness. I do not have a clear vision of how we can tackle this social bleeding, but what I am sure of is that ignoring it would be the biggest mistake. If left unaddressed, it could turn into small ghettos across Syria, not only in Damascus.
Conclusion: Syria Does Not Give Herself Easily
One article is not enough to describe everything I experienced during this very short trip to Damascus, especially because I visited it as a tourist, not as a local.
Yet, if I can offer one piece of advice to the lovers and travelers waiting to visit Syria, it would be this: keep in mind that visiting Syria is not simply a trip for relaxation. It is a treasure hunt.
Yet, if I can offer one piece of advice to the lovers and travelers waiting to visit Syria, it would be this: keep in mind that visiting Syria is not simply a trip for relaxation. It is a treasure hunt.
Syria does not give herself easily. She requires a patient eye, a loving gaze, and the willingness to search for beauty behind tired façades.
Give yourself the chance to taste the authenticity of Damascene houses, the prestige of her oriental decoration, the intimacy of her courtyards, and the sound of water in her fountains.
Only then can your thirst be satisfied.
June 2026
Zeina Yagan: Syrian Researcher & Principal Consultant, specialized in Eurasia affairs at Al-Wasl Consultancy – Dubai/UAE
All images supplied by author