Abu Ali spent the first hours after the toppling of the Syrian president Bashar al-Assad boxing up his merchandise. Old-regime bumper stickers, mugs with Assad\u2019s face, T-shirts on which Russian and Syrian flags faded into each other \u2013 it all had to go.<\/p>\n
A year later, the weathered tourist shop on the boardwalk of the Syrian coastal city of Tartous has entirely new products. The shelves are lined with the new three-star Syrian flag, mother-of-pearl jewellery boxes engraved with revolutionary slogans, and pictures of rebel fighters killed during the country\u2019s 14-year civil war.<\/p>\n
\u201cBusiness is slow these days. Tourists and travellers used to come before but now it\u2019s slowed down. We just need more security and things will improve,\u201d said Ali, 48, the owner of the shop.<\/p>\n
Ali\u2019s old customers \u2013 Russian soldiers from nearby military bases, American war influencers and Lebanese tourists \u2013 have disappeared. Only the faded Cyrillic on the storefront hints at the shop\u2019s past hawking regime wares.<\/p>\n
The Jarjour vineyard above Tartous is one of Syria\u2019s few wine producers. Photograph: Ahmed Fallaha\/The Guardian<\/p>\n
A year after the fall of the 50-year-long Assad dynasty and its replacement by an Islamist-led government, Syrians are renegotiating the symbols and culture that once defined their country. Statues of Hafez al-Assad have been toppled and bulldozed and the portraits of his son Bashar that once plastered across every billboard, office and classroom now survive only as defaced remnants, if at all.<\/p>\n
The pace of change has been blistering. The sudden collapse of the Orwellian security apparatus that controlled all facets of life and the arrival of the new government has left Syria in a state of cultural flux.<\/p>\n
For Syria\u2019s vineyards, some of the oldest in the world, the change has been bewildering. Shadi Jarjour, the owner of the Jarjour winery in the hills above Tartous, said the most immediate impact of the fall of the Assad regime was an end to ceaseless harassment from corrupt government officials.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never knew what excuse they would come up with to mess with you, it was never comfortable,\u201d he said. \u201cOnce, we didn\u2019t have the right stamp on our papers and were threatened with three years in prison, but then the regime fell.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2018We are waiting to see what the new laws will be,\u2019 said Shadi Jarjour. Photograph: Ahmed Fallaha\/The Guardian<\/p>\n
Jarjour, one of Syria\u2019s few wineries, sits on a hilltop overlooking sloping hills dotted with olive trees. Groups of tourists and diplomats often come to the quaint brick building, which has wine tanks on the bottom floor and a bed and breakfast on the top floor.<\/p>\n
Business was growing prior to the fall of the Assad regime. Under Assad, alcohol was legal to produce and sell, and the seeds of a wine culture in Syria began to take root, Jarjour said, as consumers expanded their palettes past generic red wines. The family moved their winery to Tartous and started to produce in greater quantities, making up to 50,000 bottles a year.<\/p>\n