Update 21-November-2015: This post has been getting a lot of daily traffic recently and I’m not sure why! (Please enlighten me in the comments if you’re feeling particularly helpful.) I spent a week in Syria in May of 2010 and never could have imagined what has since occurred. I can only say that every Syrian I met was helpful, friendly and polite and I had no fears for my safety or security during my time in the country. (OK, except for the creepy kids at my hotel in Palmyra but that’s another story. I don’t think they saw many Western women.) I’ve written three posts about my time in Syria in case you are interested.

I am not a filmographer. I am not a director or anyone good at these film things. But I was running through some old video files and I saw this and the “oh wow” moment in the last few moments and so here we are. (Rewind, pause, stop during the last four seconds. Please.)

Because Krak de Chevaliers in Syria is one of the most beautiful of places. People come from all over the world to study its architecture. There’s a hotel — the hotel I stayed in — right across the valley from the fortress. The hotel buys its cheese from the guys down the road, along with the chicken they roast to perfection every night and everything else they need. It is a simple hotel, but I was dumb for not taking more photos. I remember trying to connect to the Internet there. “You will not connect here,” they said. “Only email sometimes. When the wind is blowing.”

If I were better at the film stuff, I would do something all pause-y-like at the end of the video I made. Also, I would spend less time filming the loo.

WHAT? Long-time readers will know that in 2010, I decided to visit Petra. And, well, as long as you’re in Jordan, why not visit Syria? It’s just right across the border. I spent a week in Syria and I had an amazing time. Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, PALMYRA. Everyone was so lovely to me. I worried about how I should dress and how I should act but what I found during my time in Damascus is that no one really cared. They were just happy to see me and happy to have me visiting their country. What I thought about their roast chicken and their falafel seemed to be of primary concern. Oh, and would I consider selling my iPhone because there are no Apple products in Syria.

Key interactions…I decided we needed some wine in Damascus one evening. I was directed to a wine shop in the Christian quarter. It was May in Damascus so I asked for some Syrian rose…The very perfectly-speaking-English proprietor looked at me funny. “But why??? Why would you want to buy Syrian wine?? Why when the Lebanese wine is so nice??” I bought some Lebanese rose and left. Later, we had some deeply lovely Syrian rose at the delicious Naranj in Damascus, while the UN SUVs idled outside.

Then…there was that moment on the bus ride back from Palmyra to Damascus. I got sick. Bad sick. I was staying in a backpackers’ hotel. But I was so sick, so very very sick. I couldn’t eat or drink or anything. What I decided then is that if you are going to be sick in Syria, you should stay in a nice hotel. So I moved into the Four Seasons Damascus and it was so lovely and beautiful and the staff was the most wonderful of the wonderful in the world. And this is what I wonder about all these years later…I wonder if a company like Four Seasons transferred their beautiful staff and their families out of a place of disorder. I wonder.

BUT….I have skipped the important point. The point where I asked the backpackers’ hotel what I should do…that I was so sick…that everything was coming out of all the places…and they sent me to this pharmacy where the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen who spoke the most perfect English I’ve ever heard gave me some pills and some instructions on fluids and all was right with the world. Thank you, lovely pharmacist in the Damascus pharmacy, for helping me. I will not forget you. I hope you and your family are all together and all safe. I will never forget you.

Sometimes we forget that there are real people living in real places, don’t we?

The post Krak des Chevaliers, Syria first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

A year ago right now, I was in Syria. And I loved it. OK, by the end, you’ve seen one Roman ruin, you’ve seen them all. (Syria is FULL of Roman ruins. Really — that Roman empire was BUSY.) But the people of Syria? We got on famously. Everyone wanted to buy my iPhone and feed me dates and cakes. And the falafel…THE FALAFEL. I was in heaven.

Getting to Syria was not easy. I learned the hard way that there is only one Syrian embassy in the world that is set up to grant Americans visas to Syria. Perhaps not surprisingly, it’s the embassy in Washington DC. But when you’re living in a foreign country — like I was at the time — you don’t think about these things. You just go to your local embassy.

I have a new friend in Washington DC. His name is Hassan. A gruff man of indeterminate age, but familiar with all things Federal Express. Hassan got me my visa in about five days after the Syrian Embassy in London told me, “Six days? Six days for BRITISH. Not Americans. For you? Six WEEKS.” Hassan, if you’re out there, you’re awesome.

When you read about a country and everything you read says that it’s the “Junior Varsity member of the Axis of Evil,” it’s hard not to expect the worst. We took a public bus from Jordan to Syria and I apologized in advance to all the people on the bus for being American. I was sure that immigration was not going to be nice to me and that everyone else’s visas would clear before mine.

But Syria couldn’t have been nicer. (Hence the photo of the kitty kat in a Syrian rug shop.) I showed them all my paperwork and within two minutes, I had my entry stamp and I was off. (I won’t even get into how this compared to my entrance/exit from a neighboring country that shall remain unnamed.) The only other American on the bus was stupid enough to take pictures as we crossed the border. (Dudes…never ever ever take photos at a border crossing. Really. Never.) Him they apprehended immediately once they saw the glint of his iPhone. What saved him? The guy that was going to take him away remembered him from three years ago, when he had been a student in Damascus and had to register with the police. (Oh and how I so wanted to tell the officer that my fellow American was from BYU and what that might mean.)

The president of Syria — President Bashar Al-Assad — is 45 years old. He was studying to be an OPHTHALMOLOGIST. Yes. An EYE DOCTOR. He was the 2nd son of a dictator, destined for a life of educated leisure abroad. Until his brother crashed his Mercedes on the way to the airport.

Assad also likes the Internet…many a Syrian explained to me how President Assad promotes computer clubs and the Internet. (You might know from my other posts that my running joke in Jordan and Syria was the number of times I ordered my dinner, only to be asked if I wanted wi-fi with that.)

He was supposed to be the nice one. The normal one. The Western-educated one with the Western-wife. I don’t even walk to talk about what I see on the news right now. Because I’ve been to Homs. I’ve eaten their pastries. (Delicious.) And it all just makes me want to freaking CRY.

The odd thing perhaps for some of you…As a Western woman, I felt unbelievably safe in Damascus. I had brought all these long skirts but saw plenty of Christian women and young girls wandering around in knee-length skirts and tight jeans so I made the switch. In contrast to my time in Italy and Greece and even walking home from work here in Chicago, no man bothered me. No whistles, no cat calls, no odd looks or touches. Nothing. So I would buy popcorn (or ice cream) in the souk and wander up and down the lanes for hours, alone. As you do.

Ah and the HUMMUS. Seriously — Syriously, Syria — the HUMMUS. I could die happily in Syria, stuffed with falafel and hummus.

I am not much one for politics. I judge the people by the people — and the food — and not the government. Any country where I can buy a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in an alley for next to nothing…well, I must have hope. But then I remember…all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.

Krak des Chevaliers is one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen in my entire life — and I think I’ve seen a lot of things. Plus I’m not into sightseeing. A Crusader castle, it is studied the world over because IT IS STILL INTACT. Architects everywhere come to study its construction. If you ever do make it to Syria — if ever this craziness ends — I highly recommend an evening in Krak. There’s a hotel across the hill that does a mean roast chicken. The chickens are from up the road, they make the cheese themselves, and the olives come from their own trees. Heavenly, really.

I’d also recommend the souk in Aleppo, where you can stuff yourself on olives and dates and all sorts of other fantastic treats. Truly lovely. Then you can buy some of the famous soap. Get some for me, because I do love the way it smells.

It’s hard for me to shut the door on Damascus. Even the taxi drivers were nice.

I would also like to point out that it was *not* difficult to obtain wine in Damascus. There are a number of Christian liquor shops. Although no one wanted to sell me Syrian wine. “Wwwwhhhhyyyy? Why do you want Syrian wine??? Don’t you want some nice red wine from…maybe…LEBANON??” Cracked me up every time.

In Aleppo late at night, the streets are full of taxis and the traffic never stops. It’s hectic and crazy and I nearly got run over on more than one occasion. (Sometimes, by donkeys.) But I loved the cobblers and the soap makers and the perfumers and the guys with nuts and dates and God knows what else but it was all delicious. I loved Syria. I want to go back. When it’s calm and normal and no one is shooting anyone and instead people are arguing about the best falafel or the best tablecloths or the best roast chicken.

This is a post that says nothing important. I loved Syria. I still want to love Syria. It was only a year ago that everything was so calm and so happy. I hear the hotels are empty now…the tourists have fled. One can only hope that the tourism lobby is strong enough that it is able to break the craziness in some respect. It’s a country that should be seen, after all. But not at this price. Not now.

The post Syria, 2010 first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Even though it’s close to 100 degrees Farenheit–in your English-English terms, that’s the equivalent of MELTING–some women wear black gloves and black tights and even the youngest of boys is wearing what I’d call “old man pants.” (That’s the American in me. For my British readers, that’s “old man trousers.” You know the type. Wool. Hiked up to mid-chest.)

In Amman, I saw no bicycles, in Damascus, they are everywhere. Some with motors. Motors on a bike!

Everywhere I go, men say “Welcome!” And offer to buy my iPhone. Sadly, with no GPRS, I fear my iPhone would only be useful in range of a free wireless connection.

There are liquor stores! But my requests to purchase Syrian wine are met with many sad shakes of many a head. (Got a little over enthusiastic about the wine, I did.) “Whhhyyyyy??? Whyyyyyy would you want to buy Syrian wine? We have many nice Lebanese wines. Wouldn’t you like a nice Lebanese wine?”

I ate well in Syria. If you’re planning a trip to Syria, you have to visit Syrian Foodie in London. Read his post about eating and drinking in Damascus. It’s a gold mine, and I’m only sad that my traveling companions were not of the adventurous sort, or else I would have hit every place on his list.

Here’s where I ended up…
Narenj: My best meal of the trip, and Karo’s top recommendation. Had I not gotten sick at the end of my travels, and had my traveling companions actually liked hummus, I would have gone back multiple times. (Just a tip…if you don’t like hummus, going to the middle east will be HARD.) The lamb with sour cherry was particularly delicious, as was the red pepper walnut dip. After our meal, they brought out a lovely tray of Middle Eastern treats, along with a full fruit tray. All entirely complimentary. Lovely service. And the only place that would serve me Syrian wine without first begging me to try a Lebanese first. Full of diplomats. Strangely, while I was  here, I ran into my friend Richard’s friend Claudio, who was visiting his cousin in Beirut and doing a bit of a tour of Syria. The world–it’s a small place.

Bakdash: On the main street through the souk. (Not Straight Street. The other main street…closer to the escalators.) Ice cream, covered in pistachios. Fantastic.

Falafel: I thought I took a picture of this place, but I can’t find it. Basically, get to the end of the covered part of Straight Street. Al Khawali will be on your right. A few “doorways” up from Al Khawali, on the same side of the street, there’s a great little falafel stand. 25 Syrian pounds, or $1 USD. We kept talking about this falafel for the rest of the week. (Although perhaps still not as good as Hamesh in Amman.)

Al Khawali: A guidebook stalwart. Boasted two of my least favorite smells: dirty mop AND pee. (Dirty mop and mop bucket stuck behind a waitstaff station. Pee in the ladies’ and general vicinity of the loos.) The food here was supremely below average, and I longed for Narenj. Nice atmosphere, I suppose…it’s in an old Damascan house with an open air courtyard. They used a Dust Buster to clean our table after our meal. Tacky.

NaNa: We were lost, looking for a Chowhound recommendation that has apparently gone out of business since it was last mentioned on Chowhound. A couple of guys in a parking lot told us to go to NaNa. I am sure I am spelling this wrong because I can’t find the restaurant anywhere online. In my very limited Arabic, I knew that NaNa meant mint, which the guys in the parking lot confirmed. This was another old Damascan home, with a lovely open courtyard and a fountain in the middle. My fellow travelers really enjoyed their food here, but I found it a bit average. (I had the steak bernaise.) I did, however, really like the service here, and I liked that it was an all local crowd. Free wireless.

Zodiac: Bar on straight street. Buy one drink and get the 2nd free. We were their only customers. Very dark. Free snacks though!

Story Teller’s Cafe aka An-Nafura. One of the oldest cafes in Damascus. Come here for the hookah, some mint tea, and hopefully to catch the story teller doing his thing. (However, it’s all in Arabic.) This was a nice break after exploring the souk for a bit.

Beit Zaman: Straight Street. We dropped into the cafe here for some Lebanese beer and peanuts. Small and lovely. Would be even lovelier if they would take down the flat screen TV. (Every restaurant or bar in Syria seems to have a flat screen TV installed.)

Saladin: I normally always like to have a plan for lunch or dinner when traveling. When you’re exhausted–and MELTING–nothing is worse than being hungry too. You often wind up settling for the first place you come across. I try not to let this happen to me. However, we had reached one of those points, so I quickly asked a friendly (and attractive) tablecloth seller in the souk of a lunch recommendation. “Saladin!” was his very enthusiastic recommendation. To get here, go down the main street in the souk and right before you get to the mosque, there will be street on the left that has a couple of rotisserie-like places. Of course, all the signs are in Arabic, so you will have to ask which one is Saladin. (Remember that Saladin is also buried in a nearby mausoleum. Don’t confuse anyone.) We had some tasty chicken shwarma, along with fries and cokes for the equivalent of $5 USD. Short on atmosphere. Very little English spoken.

Sadly, my plans to return to Narenj as well as to dine at The Four Seasons were totally ruined by some stomach issues right at the end of my trip. (Note to self: Don’t order from roadside stands in the middle of Syria right before you’re supposed to leave the country.)

All in all, I could have used more time in Damascus. More time for shopping. More time for eating. And for getting off the beaten path. Those sorts of things.

The post Damascus Restaurant Round-up first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.