When we arrived there was a loud commotion of cars. We could hear chants. Someone was waving a rebel flag. The overnight news that Damascus had fallen and the Syrian president had fled spurred Syrians in Lebanon to rush to Masnaa, the border crossing closest to their capital.

We had planned to report from there for a day, but packed a small overnight bag when we heard that the Syrians had left their side. Maybe we could get to Damascus ourselves.

In the middle of the commotion around us was a tall man with curly hair trying to walk the other way. I could see he was crying.

He told me his name was Hussein and that he was a supporter of President Bashar al-Assad. He was afraid.

“We don’t know anything about what will happen inside. They could kill us, there is chaos,” he said.

“Everyone who used to work with the regime or the army says he will give them a safe exit, but no one knows. If that’s not true, they will face the consequences.”

He had brought his family with him but did not have the documents to enter Lebanon.

An hour later we reached Syria. The path to Damascus was wide open. As we approached the capital, we could see signs of an army in retreat – abandoned military jeeps and tanks. Army uniforms lay all over the street where soldiers had torn them off.

There was traffic on the streets, but the shops were closed. People had gathered in the central Umayyad Square, overwhelmed by the extraordinary end to more than five decades of authoritarian rule by the Assad regime – father and son.

Gunmen fired into the air in a constant cacophony of cheers – we saw a young boy who had been injured being carried away.

Civilians drove around in their cars, showing peace signs and saying that everything would be much better now that Assad was gone. An older woman was crying.

“Thank you, thank you,” she cried, as if she were praying. “The tyrant has fallen. The tyrant has fallen!”

Many members of her family died under Assad’s rule, some in prison, she said.

I reached out to a couple with four small children whose parents were bursting with joy.

“It’s an indescribable feeling. We are so happy,” said the man. “After all the years of dictatorship we have lived in our lives! We were in prison in 2014 and now we are out, thank God. We won thanks to our men, our fighters, and now we are at the moment where we go to build the greatest Syria!”

“We call on our sisters and brothers who left the country to come back,” he added. “Our hearts and homes are open to you.”

Assad’s whereabouts remained a mystery until Russian reports said he had appeared in Moscow. We made our way to his residence in Damascus – now a tourist attraction, devoid of anything of value, nothing at all.

We saw people carrying furniture without anyone trying to stop them. The rebels may have brought freedom, but not security.

Looters had also broken into other buildings nearby – increasing concerns that there would be no government in the meantime.

“The transition must be done in an appropriate and correct way,” said Alaa Dadouch, a 36-year-old father of three standing outside with his neighbors. “And the fact that he just left, you know…”

“Bashar al-Assad?” I asked.

“Yeah, see, I’m still afraid to even mention it,” he said. “But the fact that he just left is selfish. Our president should have taken the right measures necessary to at least give the army or police control of these areas until a new presidency takes office.”

He paused. “You know, two days ago I couldn’t say he was selfish, that would have been a big problem. A lot of things are different.”

“You can actually breathe, you can walk around. You can actually express your opinion. You can say what bothers you without being afraid. So yes, there is a change. I hope it’s a good change. But we have lived under false hope for 13 years (Civil War).”

This country is caught between joy and fear, hoping for peace and fearing chaos.