Prayer & Thunder

A brief glimpse of sunshine brought us to Aleppo’s citadel. As we emerged from the throne room, a storm rolled in. Taking shelter under the ruins of an arch, the afternoon call to prayer came from the muezzin, echoing off the ancient walls of the citadel as the rain hammered down.

Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar
Ashadu an la llah ila Allah
Ashhadu an Mohammed rasul Allah
Haya ala sa-sala
Haya ala af-fala
Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar
La llah ila Allah

The call was soon followed by a deep, roaring thunder that accompanied the storm.

The best coffee in Aleppo

Serving it up fresh in the souk with his ledger for the store-holders.

The coffee here seems to be infused with cardamom, making it delicious.

Sheltering from the rain in the Aleppo citadel.

(It sounded a little like this.)

Aleppo souq

Getting lost in the city is the way to go; there you find the little souks which provides everything from scrap metal to live chickens to the people living amongst it. Where you share the alley-ways with children delivering shai, motorbikes weaving through women dressed in chador, mini-vans squeezing in-between the stone walls, and the occasional man on a donkey ambling through it all.

They are also the place to eat, paying 0.25€ for a falafel, and washing it down with a fresh local brew.

As the sunlight fades, the streets fill with the sweet smell of narghile tobacco.

Aleppo

The first stop in Syria was Aleppo; a more traditional city in the north of the country. Upon arriving & finding a cheap hotel we soon immersed ourselves in the city’s labyrinth of alleys.

The city’s biggest souk, which seems to run all the way to Damascus, offers everything. Every possible colour is contained within its clothes, carpets, spices, meats, household goods, and anything else you care for.
The smells contained within include the life-cycle of a chicken shwarma: the live chickens, the raw meat from the butchers, the spices used to flavour it, the smokey grill used to cook it, through to the the cardamom-infused coffee & apple scented tobacco used to digest it.
Market sellers shouting, vans beeping horns, meat sizzling on a grill all assault the ears. The clink-clink of tea-sellers, hauling their urn in one hand, in the other chinking a couple of glasses from which the sweet shai is consumed.

And Syrians are incredibly welcoming people. Walking in the street, they will often ask “Where are you from?” and upon replying, tell you sincerely that “You are very welcome in Syria”, ahlan we sahlan. This is how we met Ala’a on our first night, who walked us around the city, before taking us to his favourite narghile joint.

More photos from Aleppo.