There are a lot of things I like about Qasioun. The ability to look at Damascus in miniature. The distance from reality. The space. The breeze. The sounds drifting up from the city below.
And there are a lot of things I hate. The out-of-towners who run the over-priced flea-pits. The tourists. The women looking for Gulfies. The taxi drivers.
One of my favourite spots on Qasioun is the bend in the road where you get a beautiful side profile of the houses creeping further and further up the hill.
A taxi driver told me a few weeks ago how he loved to go up at dawn, to watch the city wake up.