Dancing in Damascus as the country burns: Clubbers who are still enjoying life despite Syria’s civil war

Around a dozen nightclubs remain open to revellers in the Syrian capital

Others enjoy nights out at salsa classes or Arabic karaoke nights

The 30-month-old civil war is estimated to have killed around 100,000 so far



When night falls in Damascus, these days most people lock themselves fearfully in their homes.

But a few still venture out, on a mission to drown out the thunder of artillery fire with the boom of dance music.

Though shells are raining down on suspected rebel positions in suburbs just a few miles away, these determined revellers head to the Syrian capital's night clubs to try to forget the war on their doorstep.

'Change of atmosphere': Young people dance at a nightclub in downtown Damascus, a city which, like the rest of Syria, has been riven by a 30-month old civil war that is thought to have left 100,000 dead

A barman mixes a drink: Before Syria's civil war began Damascus enjoyed regular music festivals

A place to forget: The night club does brisk business despite the civil war raging around it, with its manager saying that it stays open until 2am. But he asked that its name was not revealed for fear of reprisals

Among the performers is Mudi al-Arabi, a 22-year-old rapper, who returned to Damascus just two months ago after spending the previous two years living in Morocco.

He is determined to keep up a happy-go-lucky lifestyle despite the constant threat of death.

'Everyone's going to die some day, but the Syrian people love life and the most important thing is to be happy,' he said.

'If the United States attacks us, I'm sure our army will defend us,' he added.

'Guys come here with their friends or with their girlfriends, to forget the week's routine.'

'Everyone's going to die some day, but the Syrian people love life and the most important thing is to be happy' Mudi al-Arabi, 22-year-old rapper

Arabi's songs are heavy with nostalgia for the Damascus of before the war when there were regular music festivals

Now he performs just once a fortnight at private parties. Since the uprising against Assad's rule erupted in March 2011, the authorities have been wary of public gatherings and it has become difficult to get the necessary authorisations.

'It's hard to get permission from the security services,' Arabi said.

The nightclub does brisk business despite - or perhaps because of - the war raging outside.

'We stay open until 2:00 am. It's going well,' said 29-year-old manager Bashar.

'But please don't mention the club's name. I'm afraid someone might do us harm because they think we shouldn't be having fun while people are dying.'

The club is one of a dozen still open in Damascus 30 months into a conflict that has killed more than 100,000 people and reduced some of the capital's suburbs to rubble.

Where Ahmad, a 22-year-old student, decides to go 'depends on where my friends want to meet. There are even some clubs where the champagne is still flowing'.

Damascus by day: People walk past the terrace of a restaurant near a poster of President Bashar al-Assad

A pharmacist looks for medication at a pharmacy in Damascus: Drug production in Syria has come to a near total halt since the brutal war broke out, causing shortages and a growing trade in smuggled medicines

Gold standard: Syrians stand in front of a jewellery shop in old Damascus, where life continues despite the war

Cold comfort: Syrian women eat ice cream at the Al-Hamidieh market in old Damascus

Easing the stress of war: Syrian girls sit smoking shisha in a coffee shop in old Damascus

Damascus's clubbing scene is just one part of life that is continuing almost as normal in the face of the desperate conflict which has riven the country.

By and large, the shops, cafes and businesses of the Syrian capital remain open for business as usual, even as the country's beleaguered regime fights for survival.

Seeing the city's youth enjoying nights out on the town, it is difficult to imagine such atrocities as last month's poison gas attack in Ghouta happen just a few minutes drive away.

And it is just as hard to imagine the destructive effect a barrage of the West's cruise missiles could have in the event that the U.S. and its allies' threats are finally carried out.

Time for tea: Syrians sit in an ornately decorated coffee shop in the warm autumn air in old Damascus

Something for the weekend? A street vendor hawks colourful tops of the kinds the city's clubbers might wear as women in modest Islamic dress browse his products at a market in old Damascus

Everyday essentials: Bras of various colours are arrayed atop a car for sale at the market in Old Damascus

Syrian craftsmen hammer copper in a shop in Old Damascus: Life is going on as normal despite the war raging elsewhere

Curiosity... A cat peers into a menswear shop in Old Damascus, left. Right, a businessman sits at his shop selling swords at the al-Bzouria market in Old Damascus

Sugar coated: A Syrian man displays sweets at his shop at the al-Bzouria market

At one Damascus hotel, some 200 salsa lovers meet up every Thursday - the start of the Syrian weekend - to dance together to Cuban rhythms.

Yara, 22, drives 15 miles twice a week to the Bulgarian cultural centre in the Malki district, where she takes salsa, merengue, cha-cha-cha and tango lessons in preparation for the weekly night out.

'Here, I'm different, I feel happy. We've all become friends,' said the young economics graduate.

And step-two-three: Syrians dance at the Bulgarian cultural centre in Damascus, where up to 200 Latin music lovers meet every Thursday to practice salsa, merengue, cha-cha-cha and tango

And spin: A young women recovers from a pirouette as she practices her salsa at the Bulgarian cultural centre

Dancing in the shadow of cruise missiles: One instructor says classes have become more popular with the outbreak of war in Syria, adding 'now, we've understood life is short and that we need to live fully'

'We dance to get rid of our negative energy': Couples practice more advanced moves in front of a mirror

A dozen couples practise on the dance floor, under the watchful gaze of their two teachers.

Fadi has a day job with the United Nations, while Mayss is a personal assistant for a telecommunications company director.

'We dance to get rid of our negative energy,' said 30-year-old Fadi.

'Before the war, the Syrians didn't used to be so active. Now, we've understood life is short and that we need to live fully,' said Mayss, 28.

Good times in a bad situation: A Syrian woman shakes her booty at the karaoke night held in the Baik Bash hotel in Old Damascus, where lovers of more traditional Arab music go to enjoy a night on the town

Diverse: Women in modest Islamic dress dance alongside others revellers in Western-style clothing at the karaoke club

Soulful: A woman belts out a classic Arab number while others dance around her

Throwing shapes: A group of Syrians hold hands as they dance, dressed as though they were in any British club

'We come here to get a change of mood': The club's owner, Arwa, is the proud mother of Mohammad Bash, who reached the semi-finals in the regional Star Academy singing competition

In old Damascus the Baik Bash hotel runs karaoke nights for lovers of traditional Arabic music.

While Rasha Tabba sings 'I'm in such a state' by Aleppo crooner Sabah Fakhri, her friends belly dance.

'The situation is bad and we come here to get a change of mood. I love singing, and I think I have a good voice,' said the housewife, donning a white veil as she dances.

The club's owner, Arwa, is the proud mother of Mohammad Bash, who reached the semi-finals in the regional Star Academy singing competition.

'He loves coming here to sing along with his friends,' said Arwa.

Back to school: Pupils stand in lines at Nahla Zidane elementary school at the start of the new term in Damascus

Dear leader: A poster depicting Syrian President Bashar al-Assad watches over pupils as they begin classes