The road to Damascus

After our stay in Aleppo, we, like St Paul, were on the road to Damascus - quite literally. Syrian Airlines cancelled our internal flight and we had to drive.

We stayed in a beautifully restored Damascene house, or beit, in the old city. The houses are traditionally built around courtyards with a pool or fountain in the centre (to cool the air), plenty of plants and a shaded area for sitting.

The old city of Damascus is a bustling, vibrant place, with narrow streets and alleyways full of people. And everything is within walking distance - a real treat after Bahrain, where walking is a luxury. And there are some great restaurants serving excellent local food. I did not see one fast food outlet.

Damascus is home to the Great Umayyad Mosque, which according to the official blurb is "the Islamic most

famous mosque", although the Saudis may take issue with that. Non-Muslims are welcome but as a woman you have to dress appropriately, which entails a

visit to the "Putting on Special Clothes Room". You emerge from here clad in a grey-green hooded robe resembling something out of Star Wars. No matter, all the other female tourists look the same.

The mosque certainly provides a haven from the hustle and bustle outside, with cool floors andshaded spots where whole families gather and men snooze. The mosque's site used to be Cathedral of John the Baptist and his head is supposedly buried here. For a time, Muslims and Christians shared the site but the growth of the Muslim faith led to the then Caliph negotiating with the Christians for the church to be ceded and the mosque was constructed.

Damascus has a vast covered souk and streets full of shops selling curios and antiques - wonderful lamps, rugs and old tiles. Syria also has a thriving arts scene with a smattering of galleries and artists studios on the tourist routes.

And after a long day's walking, Kris and I headed over the road from our hotel to the hammam, or bath house. These are all over Damascus and originate from the days when houses had no bathrooms of their own. They are still very popular as a place to meet for a gossip and a wash and massage,with separate hours for men and women.

Behind the rug hanging over the door, we entered a square room with a fountain in the middle and raised benches strewn with rugs and cushions round the outside. Women of all ages and shapes lolled on these in various states of undress. We managed, with the help of sign language, to pay - hammam only. We didn't fancy the scrub and massage. You are given a little towel and expected to don some wooden clogs before negotiating the slippery entrance way to the baths. You soap yourself and sluice yourself with water from the stone basins, using the special hammam bowls (many people bring their own). We then just had a time for a steam before being ushered out as the men were due to arrive. A very communal experience!