Children of Anarchy

Stepping into the streets of Damascus ( دمشق ), i was expecting relative quiet, to the usual hustle and bustle, for it was the first day of 
Eid (عيد الفطر) and i was under the impression that everyone stayed home with their families somewhat like Christmas. I was so totally wrong the streets were full of little tackers ranging from knee to shoulder height. It was like the city was one big fun park and i had missed the sign saying u had to be shorter than this height to enter. These kids were decked out in the most pimping new clothes there parents could buy and running a muck like pipsqueak gangsters with BB guns, smoking and gambling it was total anarchy through my eyes. 
I was on a mission of grave importance this day for it is mums B'day at the end of this month and i wanted to find something kinda special for her in the Souq or one of the many "Antique" stores through the city, and also just generally have a look at what this old city had to offer. To add to the already complicated task of moving about the streets it rained, turning my thongs (flip flops) into ice skates on the ever so slippery cobble stone streets, knowing that every step could be my last i took it easy. It may have been a while since these grounds had felt the drops of rain and they had collected all sorts of grimy substances which turned the puddles hyper coloured yellows, greens, purples and reds, i wasn't so keen on stepping in them. After weaving & winding through many small streets, popping in & out of stores and ducking & diving BB bullets i found a present i thought was perfect, i shall not disclose what it is in case mum read this (Luv ya Mum). Dinner consisted of fighting my way to the front of the line to get a 25pound falafel roll (which is about 50cents).