Less visited than other parts of Lebanon, the South is rich in history – both ancient and modern – making the currently accessible parts well worth exploring. The principal towns of Tyre and Sidon, known respectively in Arabic as Sour and Saida, are full of archaeological treasures, surrounded by lush plantations of bananas, dates and oranges and populated by welcoming locals. The picture, however, is far from rosy. Hardest hit by the civil war (not to mention a his-toric lack of interest by Beirut’s powerbrokers) the South seems to encounter yet another hurdle every time it attempts to get back onto its feet. Following Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000 – before which much of the South was under Israeli or proxy South Lebanon Army (SLA) occupation – the South initially saw a resurgence in tourism as Leba-nese and overseas visitors arrived, curious to see this isolated and previously out-of-bounds region. But the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah effectively put a stop to its tourist industry once again.While visitors might initially be wary, those who do make it this far will be in for a treat. Both Sidon and Tyre remain fascinating places to visit, with locals more than willing to stop in the street to help a lost-looking tourist poring over a guidebook. While there are often limited accommodation and restaurant options available, with many businesses closing down or frequently changing hands, the lure of the region’s beaches and souqs, along with the ancient treasures of Tyre, will quickly allay any qualms about visiting the area.

While Damascus was always the ‘holy’ city, the seat of rulers and wary of foreigners, Aleppo (or Halab as it is known), Syria’s second city, has been one of commerce since Roman times. While both cities claim the title of ‘oldest continually inhabited city in the world’, it’s in Aleppo that the legacy of history feels more immediate.Aleppo today retains that air of an Arabian bazaar city, with people going about business as they have done for centuries. The streets speak a rhythm of sounds – from horse-drawn carts over cobblestones to the more frenetic pace of donkey-riding couriers, still the fastst way through the atmospheric, labyrinthine souq that’s fragrant with olive soap, exotic spices, roasting coffee and succulent grilled shwarma.While Aleppo may not bustle as it did when it was a key stop on the Silk Road, the rela-tive lack of big investment has actually done the city a favour. The World Heritage–listed Old City was saved from irreparable damage by not succumbing to modernisation. Today it is without doubt a fragile treasure, but a new breed of local investors and entrepreneurs have been wisely spending money to immaculately restore some old city treasures. A plan is in place to restore all of the historic buildings in the Old City – still a thriving centre with more than 100,000 residents. This new wave of preservation has brought boutique hotels and restaurants and has not only saved some classic buildings, but has also given the visitor a real feel for the city as it once was.

What Beirut is depends entirely on where you are. If you’re gazing at the beautifully recon-structed colonial relics and mosques of central Beirut’s Downtown, the city is a triumph of rejuvenation over disaster. If you’re in the young, vibrant neighbourhoods of Gemmayzeh or Achrafiye, Beirut is about living for the moment: partying, eating and drinking as if there’s no tomorrow. If you’re standing in the shadow of buildings still peppered with bullet holes, or walking the Green Line with an elderly resident, it’s a city of bitter memories and a dark past. If you’re with Beirut’s Armenians, Beirut is about salvation; if you’re with its handful of Jews, it’s about hiding your true identity. Here you’ll find the freest gay scene in the Arab Middle East, yet homosexuality is still illegal. If you’re in one of Beirut’s southern refugee camps, Beirut is about sorrow and displacement; other southern districts are considered a base for paramilitary operations and south Beirut is home to infamous Hezbollah secretary general, Hassan Nasrallah. For some, it’s a city of fear; for others, freedom.
Throw in maniacal drivers, air pollution from old, smoking Mercedes taxis, world-class universities, bars to rival Soho and coffee thicker than mud, political demonstrations, and swimming pools awash with more silicone than Miami. Add people so friendly you’ll swear it can’t be true, a political situation existing on a knife-edge, internationally renowned museums and gallery openings that continue in the face of explosions, assassinations and power cuts, and you’ll find that you’ve never experienced a capital city quite so alive and kicking – despite its frequent volatility.

 The best time of year to visit Syria is spring (March to May) when the weather is mild and wildflowers are in bloom. During May the weather can be warm enough for swimming and the mountains are carpeted with colour. In Damascus, the winter rains clear the haze that obscures the city for some of the year. The rain swells the rivers, so the wooden norias (waterwheels) in Hama are turning and fresh, clean water flows through Damascus. If you can’t make the spring, aim for autumn (September to November), between the intense heat of summer and the cloud of winter.Temperatures soar from June to the middle of September, and summers can be uncomfortably hot. On the coast at Lattakia, it can be extremely humid, while the interiors will be very hot and dry. This may be fine if you want to lie on a Mediterranean beach, but it is not ideal for exploring the large exposed ruins at Palmyra, Apamea or Bosra. Travel in the northeast of the region and through the desert can become a real endurance test. Heading out early and returning to the hotel for an afternoon siesta is necessary to avoid heat stroke and exhaustion. The winter rains can make sightseeing difficult, but if you’re lucky enough a blanket of snow may cover Damascus and the mountains.If you are heading to Syria during school  holidays, you should book accommodation well in advance. Religious and state holidays shouldn’t seriously disrupt any travel plans. Some services may be cut back, but transport, hotels, restaurants and many businesses function as normal – well, as normal as they do in this lackadaisical country.

  Lebanon’s restaurant and hotel prices are roughly equivalent to North America and large parts of Europe. Beirut is full of fine restaurants, where a meal for two will easily tally up to US$100, and top-end hotel rooms go for over US$250 per night.It is, however, perfectly possible to travel the country on a tight budget. Beirut has several budget hotel options, with dorm rooms for US$7 per person per night, and public transport is cheap and cheerful – if time-consuming – even to the more rural parts of Lebanon. Moreover, street food is good value and delicious, with a shwarma coming in at around US$2 and a strong cup of coffee at less than US$1. For the most freedom on the road, it’s probably best to aim for some-where in between. Lebanon’s midrange hotels represent good value, especially out of high season as rates drop dramatically. Renting a small car will mean you can see more of the country in much less time. Meals consisting of mezze will rarely cost more than US$10 per person, meaning you should still have change in your wallet for a cold local Almaza beer or two.