Last week, this time, I was sitting in a private taxi, making my way back from Lebanon. So, let me document the journey backwards, so to speak.
First off, let me say that I will gladly visit Lebanon again. When I purchased a Syrian multiple visa during the summer when I was visiting Ottawa, it all seemed like a long shot. But it is that very visa which allowed me to travel through Syria and onwards to Lebanon. I also had no idea how easy it is. On maps, distances are deceiving, and even Google Earth doesn't give enough of a sense. For example, there is no telling just how long a border crossing will take. Especially over religious holidays when throngs of people are border hopping to visit relatives, or visiting as tourists.
So, having just checked the last narrative upload, it seems that I stopped at the Crusader Castle of Crac des Chevaliers.
Leaving the castle, my taxi driver, Omar, took an unbeated track towards the border post at Abboudiye, about 30 minutes away. I was quite hungry, and begged him to stop for something to eat. How does one beg in Arabaic, you might ask. Easy. Look desperate, point to your stomach, rub it vigorously, and motion like a spastic from mouth to tummy.He got the message. But, what did I want to eat, he asked. As though I cared. I would have settled for camel jerky at that point. We drove through habitation, and I looked around desperately for an eatery of some kind. No, he wasn't planning to stop. Eventually, we stopped at a roadside visa office. I was offered sweet black tea, and forked over the equivalent of 15 US dollars as an exit tax. I found it strange that the office wasn't attached to an official border customs and control complex. Still, it all looked official enough. The border was stii a few kilometers away and there was no doubting it. The traffic jam welcomed us. We snuck into an eatery. I turned a blind eye to the flies, and happily munched away at my grilled meat kebabs on metal skewers, fresh tomato and cucumber salad, humus, and pureed egg plant, often called Baba Ganush. The spelling evades me. Sated, we made our way through the bureaucracy that is standard at land crossings. I have learned to look out for shoddy English signs that say something to this effect: Foreigners line up here! That way, after diplomats, you can usually get processed fairly quickly and not even have to grease any palms. After about an hour in smoke filled offices (there are no-smoking signs all over to prohibit the average Joe, but all the customs and immigration officers are furious chain smokers, and the signs evidently don't apply to them), we are eventually cleared, and we enter Lebanon. It appears to be just as shabby and run down as many of the poorer sections of Syria. Stalled traffic jams the narrow road for many miles as we make our way to the big port city of Tripoli. I had intended going that far with Omar, but he insisted on driving me to my final destination for a few more dollars. I relented, avoiding the hassle of tracking down yet another driver to take me to Byblos, another 40 kilometers along the coast. Today, Byblos uses two names - the French version of the biblical name "Jbeil", Gebal in the bible. This sea port was bustling in the days of Jesus and his followers. Here, history has another dimension, so does time. 2000 years is like yesterday when you can see places that are 4 and 8 thousand years old.
Byblos is a clean and sophisticated town. The moneyed here, and the American University of Lebanon has a campus here. The streets are cobbled, the cafes sophisticated, and most people seem to converse fluently in three languages: Arabic, French, and English. I take an instant liking to the place. I contemplate taking an hotel here, and get info from the place where I bought a phone card for my cell phone. Then I decide to call Joe, a Christian (there are many here, and they are fervent about their religion)who works in the HR department at the university. He tells me not to take a hotel just yet. He has a chalet on the sea, and I can stay there if I like. I can decide after checking it out. What's not to like about Abou Philippe Chalets by the sea? I take up the offer, and agree to stay for three nights before I head in to Beirut (Beyrouth in French)to meet the organized tour for which I had signed up in Turkey.
The open concept, one-bedoomed chalet meets all my needs. The little kitchenette is there if I need it, and the location on the balmy Mediterranean is what the doctor ordered! Joe had no idea what a godsend this chalet would be. That evening, after entertaining foreign delegates from other universities, Joe drops by to offer me an evening tour of the town. We drive into the mountains to see his mansion, where he employs an Ethiopian maid. She served us coffee on the terrace, and we chat away. I ask many questions about Lebanon, about Muslims and Christians...and I get more insight into the struggle between Syria and Lebanon. Religion has a very public face in Byblos and Beirut. It is overtly Christian, with just a tiny smattering of mosques. I learn that there are 19 different religious sects in this tiny country. Russian Orthodox, Greek and Armenian Orthodox, Lebanese Maronite Catholics, Roman Catholics...and so forth. Statues of Our Lady are all over, and in your face.
The next day, I call a cab. I tour the ancient fortress and the old part of town. I grab a quick hair cut and relax. I ask Edgar (Eddie) the driver what Saint Theresa is his patron saint. She graces the dashboard of his fancy Merc. I ask him what it will cost to hire him for a whole day so that I can visit the famed Roman City of Baalbeck. 100 US. Sounds OK to me, and he collects me at 9:00 a.m.
We start off with manoushi, in Faraya, a ski resort in Mount Lebanon. With peppermint tea, I find it a good way to start the day. The crisp bread is roasted on a griddle and topped with a herbal paste and sesame seeds. We drive over the mountain, and descend into the Bekaa Valley,the breadbasket of the country. Giant potatoes and vineyards greet the traveller. This part of the country is poorer, and more Islamic. I wonder if there is a connection. Here the women and children wear head covers. It seems so different from Byblos, and shishy Jounieh.
The Roman City of Baalbeck is like none other that I have ever seen. Eddie is my official photographer because I paid his admission. For once, I have more than one picture of myself...and it isn't taken with a self timer! We spend almost three hours at the ancient site, and marvel at the magnitude and splendour of this place. It was still being built after the crucifixion! Seems to have been completed around 60 AD! Some of the pillars were taken to build Emperor Justinian's church of Holy Wisdom in Byzantium. Today, the church of the Haghıa Sophia still stands in modern day Istanbul, and pillars can be seen holding up the arches of that now famous church.
On the way back, we stop in Zahle, a popular tourist town in the summer because it is located in a Wadi - a valley with a gushing river, lined with restaurants and night clubs. We had something to eat at a famous establishment called Al Arabi. I got nice and tipsy on Arak, the drink of choice in most Mediterranean countries. A licorice tasting liqour that turns white when added to water. Extremely intoxicating. When the coffee is served, it comes in such tiny cups, and the quantity is equally tiny, that I cannot help but laugh! Where is the coffee? I insist that we try the fresh potatoes from the Bekaa Valley. Having seen them along the roadside for miles and miles, I imagine that they must be really tasty. I go for a safe option of fries. The waiter tells me that they are frozen from last season. Eddie laughs out loud...McDonalds, he says! We are both tipsy, and we find all this delightfully amusing. He orders a favourite - raw meat, minced until it looks like a fine reddish paste. I try to eat it with a horseradish sauce, but I leave most of it to him. I don't feel obliged to eat everything that is presented.
We take an alternate route to Beirut, and it is night time. Some disgruntled youth hurl rocks at cars passing by. One hits the taxi. Eddie is pissed. He stops the car. We both jump out to examine the damage, which is minimal. Still, this is his Merc! The youths jump into a car, and dash away. Meanwhile, the traffic is pandemonium. But this is standard fair in Lebanon. Every street is jammed, every day, every hour. I know that I cannot live in such a place. The pollution gets to me.
Eddie drops me off in Jounieh, and I visit Mario Hayek, an artisan who works in peuter. He invites me to the studio, and I watch him working away. He has a helper who is a refugee from Iraq. We chat, share stories, and tea. I enjoy watching them, but helping is even better. They have 150 gifts to wrap - one of the local municipalities if gifting people with a product from his studio. So I help them out. They find it amusing that I am willing to help! I offer to visit another time and promise to purchase a gift or two. The work is tasteful and affordable. Mario gives me a ride part-way, and I get a taxi back to Byblos.
The next day I lay low. The pollution has got my asthma going. I fish out my Ventolin pump, find a pharmacy selling anti-histamines, and sit and watch the sea. Beirut lies across from the chalets, and fishermen cast their rods from the rocks below. As the day wears on, I find the strength to take the cable car up Mount Lebanon to Harissa. From here, you can look down into the bay of Jounieh. The church of Our Lady of Harissa is a place of pilgrimage for many - Christians and Muslims alike. Most of the tourists are from Iran. And they are more pious in the church than the modern Lebanese teens. The view from the top is spectacular.
After descending, I have a Caesar Salad and take a walking tour of trendy and expensive Jounieh. The clubs here go all night in the Summer. After a 30-minute harbour cruise, I take a taxi to the Jeita Grotto. No pics from this cave because we had to check our cameras and cell phones. Just as well. Stalactites and -mites that date back 300 000 years. A site to behold. The boat ride on the subterranean lake was the highlight. Out of this world. That's all I can say. Google pictures yourself if you want to see the caves. For me, no picture can capture the experience. It is considered one of the new wonders of the world.
The next day, I finally went in to Beirut. Being a holiday,the roads were less frantic going in. I strolled around he recently reconstructed downtown area called Solidere. This placed was almost obliterated by the bombs from the civil war. The Lebanese people have decided to unite and rebuild...and they have done a splendid job of it. After sitting at a trendy cafe (Chez Paul)I decided to call it quits, surrendering to a severe allergy attack. My eyeballs gave way from their sockets, my chest hacked and heaved. I called a taxi to get me to the chalet in Byblos. He broke down outside Metro, and large department store selling everything you could desire. I used the opportunity to pick up a new cooler bag and some fancy French cheeses. And some pig sausage, of course. The next day was time to leave.
Joe took me out to dinner just outside the castle in Byblos. I ate the best humus in my life. It had caramelized onions in it. The food was presented with utter elegance, and the prices were reasonable.
I awoke to a morning coffee and a special Lebanese sweet pastry called Knefi. An east meets west dessert. Think croissant...in the shape of a bagel...somewhat, and stuffed with a special melted creamy cheese, coated in vermicelli, and oozing rose water flavoured syrup! Oh my god. It was amazing. Apart from pancakes with maple syrup, I don't usually indulge in that sort of thing for breakfast. Still, it was a wonderful way to end my stay in Lebanon.
Joe drove me to Tripoli. He still wanted to take me to some interesting sites along the way. I declined, in the hope of another visit. İn Tripoli, I picked up taxi to drive me back to the Syrian city of Aleppo, where I was to stay for the night before proceeding on to Turkey.
And that's the shortened version! Now, I am back in Adana, working on a musical for my Grade 2 students, thinking through my resume so that I can get back home to Canada to find gainful employment. How can I work in another visit to Lebanon? Damn.
