The thing that I miss most about Syria is my father. I especially miss his smell. The stench of man sweat and the faint odor of cold smoke. A man walked past me in the Turkish supermarket the other day, with a thick black moustache, a receding hairline and a white undershirt with yellow stains … Continue Reading ››
People sometimes ask me what it was like growing up in Syria. In one word... enriching. To further elaborate and disperse some of the existing prejudices towards the culture and traditions of my homeland, I decided to start this "Diary of a Syrian Teenager".
Some religious customs are frowned upon in the West, because they are … Continue Reading ››
It's about three in the morning and yet again the car alarm has been set off. It is a serenade of alternating police and emergency sirens and rhythmic honking. It is the fourth time since I went to bed a few hours ago. A couple of minutes later, the neighbor shows mercy by … Continue Reading ››
Aleppo is a cultural patchwork. Muslims and Christians, Armenians and Assyrians, Arabs and foreigners coexist there in peace. You can meet a cart pulled by a donkey and then a luxury car within a few meters. The modern and the traditional are face to face in this extraordinary city.
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