Beirut, Sidon, Tyre and Beaufort Castle.

Beirut, Sidon, Tyre and Beaufort Castle.

Thursday, January 17^th – Friday January 19^th

Leah’s mood had not changed much by the next morning. She decided it was time to leave Lebanon and head to Jordan and then perhaps to Yemen to meet Marcus and I later that month. It was understandable. If you don’t feel comfortable somewhere it is time to move on. It’s as simple as that. It was sad to say farewell though.

We said good-bye to her and then ourselves made plans to head to Sidon – in the south of Lebanon – the next day. Apart from that we chilled out and relaxed. Well what we actually did was head off on the bus to Jounieh 15 kilometres north of Beirut. We got dropped off there, in the middle of the freeway. Oh, on the wrong side. This, given the infernal nature of Lebanon’s drivers, was not good. It took us about 45 mins to cross the road. No really. It did. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. In fact I am sure I’ll think about it from time to time. Probably around 3am lying in a pool of cold sweat. The reason for this little jaunt was to jump on the Teleferique up to Harissa. The Teleferique is a cute little cable car that dangles precariously from a huge wire that runs up the side of the mountain. It gets up to the village of Harissa in less than 9 minutes. If you don’t mind swaying around in precarious and dangly blobs of metal it’s kind of fun. The stats say there have been no injuries reported on this ride. Well we live in hope... Re – cold pool of sweat. Another weird thing was how close it passed to many high rise flats: peoples houses. We reached Harissa after riding the second part of the jaunt on the funicular. The reason for this little excursion was to visit the church of Our Lady of Lebanon. It is a church set at the feet of a colossal statue of the Holy Virgin. The view is spectacular and it was well worth the visit. We also tried to get into the huge Basilica but it not open for public viewing. This site has a special devotion for pilgrims. Not just Christians, but Shia Muslims and Druze consider this place holy.

The evening was spent chatting to Nat and doing a bit of shopping, wondering around Doura and taking it easy. I have to say, the Lebanese have perfected the shawarma. They have really embraced the idea that having it dipped in a vat of grease is not a good thing.

The next day we headed South. As Lebanon is a tiny country it took us maybe two and a half hours to reach Sidon. It was a beautiful and relaxed place, very idyllic, much akin to a picturesque European fishing town. It was originally as Phoenician city. The south of Lebanon has a different feel to it. It is very much Hezbollah territory and predominately Shiite. During the civil war, the Israeli defence force pushed through this land, occupying and suppressing any form of insurgency they found. This sparked off, internal, sectarian violence as Muslims and Christians were forced to take sides either for or against the invading armies. Moreove, at a micro-level, many towns and villages did not see things in such a black and white fashion. They were still friendly with their neighbours regardless of their cultural or religious background. It wasn’t until the onset of the militias: Hezbollah and the Phalange: acting as the right arm of the IDF, loosely employed as a peace-keeping force; the cloak thinly veiling a brutal and cruel regime of violence, suppression, and murder. In short things were pretty bad here a decade ago.

Nothing of this was apparent to us – in regards to the ambience of the place – in regards to the war. Not like Beirut. Maybe we weren’t looking hard enough. I didn’t really try to I just wanted to take things at face value for a change. We checked into a hotel and then went out and chilled in a local UN restaurant. The evening didn’t amount to much more than that.

I got up early and ran along the cornice the next morning. I ran north first of all, but I ran into a refugee camp. I am sure other people did this also - run along the cornice, as opposed to running blindly into refugee camps, but I drew some very strange looks - again on the cornice - as I never quite made it into the refugee camp. It is interesting what a person defines as strange: as I ran back toward the hotel, past the film crew filming the local fisherman with a huge cache of eels, I nearly ran into a guy riding a moped along the quay carrying a tray upon which was balanced four cups of tea, sugar, and some food. the tray was borne aloft in one of his hands - his left as it happened - apropos to a waiter’s finger-tip balancing act. The other hand was steering and controlling the moped’s speed. On his face he wore a look af peace and serenity. I felt a little less strange after that.

We had planned to skip Tyre and head to Chateau Beaufort and then to the now disused Israeli prison camp of Khiam. Unfortunately we discovered we had to first go to Tyre and obtain a permit to visit the castle. On top of this it was the prelude to the Muslim Day of Ashura.

… The taxi is sitting in a dusty jam-packed road. We are sitting in the taxi. It’s late afternoon but still very hot. Ahead is anarchy:. The road descends to a large square with a melee of beeping cars and a crowd of Shiite Muslims, with banners, mock machetes, sticks, ripped clothes, are gathered. They are marching and are performing ritual of Zanjeem Matam. Many of them are covered in fake blood …

We reached Tyre early afternoon and got a servise to the Ministry-of-handing-out-permits. After being directed to three or four different guard posts we finally got ushered upstairs to meet a nice enough guy who seemed very pleased to have to English tourists wishing to visit Chateau Beaufort. We filled in the forms and had got our permit arranged. This turned out to be in the form of a phone-call.

We skipped back into town – as time was marching on – and jumped into a servise to Arnoun. This was the nearest town to Beaufort Castle that was reachable by bus. We arrived to find a bunch of opportunist taxi drivers eager to charge us a fortune to get to the castle. We bargained hard, but the day was nearly over and we were at a disadvantage. So we ended up paying through the nose. It then took us nearly an hour to get through the crowds that had gathered for the day of Ashur. This day has special importance to Shiites as it marks the Martydom of Hussein Ibn Ali, the grandson of the prophet, at the Battle of Karbala.

Leaving the town behind we soon found ourselves approaching the Castle. Chateau Beaufort thus named – Beautiful Castle – it may have been a looker once upon a long ago, but since then it has been visited upon by an earthquake; then repeatedly being bombed by Israel during its occupation by the PLO; then repeatedly being bombed by Hezbollah during its occupation by the IDF; it has kind of lost its charms. The Arabs call it Qala'at ash-Shqif. It was still a great place to explore and the views were amazing. Two months before, Marcus, Merryl, and I had stood in the ghost town of Quneitra and looked across at the Golan Heights. So too can you see from here the mountains that mark the beginning of Syria, then to the south – Israel. We found a great underground passage within the castle ruins that showed off the remaining and intact fortifications under the pile of buried rubble. We desperately wanted to continue on to Khiam prison. But we had all but run out of time.

We got a bus back to Beirut and headed back to the flat to see Nat. She had managed to get hold of a paraffin boiler. Bonus! It was fantastic and also meant she was no longer dependent on mains electricity to heat the flat. Her erstwhile neighbor, Fadi, had supplied it to her for free. He also invited us upstairs to meet his Mum – whom he lived with. He was a really lovely guy and she was incredibly hospitable. He was originally from Syria, his family live in the valley below the fortress of Krak des Chavaliers. He gave me his address and asked me to visit, in the summer when the flowers are in bloom. I will try to when I make it back to the Middle East.

Marcus and I headed out for the evening and got a tad drunk.

Saturday January 19^th

Natalie was off work today so we decided to visit the Jeita Grotto just outside of Beirut. We took a servise pretty much to where we got off for Jounieh. However this time it was on the right side of the road. We decided to walk the two or three kilometers to the grotto. It was a bit of a trek uphill for the first two kilometers. However the city soon disappeared and we found ourselves walking in beautiful valleys surrounded by high cliffs and deep gorges. We finally reached the grotto in late afternoon. The site is as vast as it is amazing. It is divided into two caves. The upper caves which can be explored on foot and the lower caves which are accessible by boat. I had no idea the site was so expansive. We took a cable car up to the first set of caves. We had to leave our cameras at the entrance so no pics from inside. The upper cave was mind-blowing. It was a visual feast of stalactites and stalagmites. Calcium and phosphorus deposits from centuries of pressure and time have created the most extraordinary spectacle. In addition to this someone with a theatrical flair for light and shade had cleverly, and artistically, positioned lights throughout the network of caves. The lights moodily gave life and character to these dark and enticing caverns. We walked through each one along a metal walkway slowly winding upward. I felt like the two characters from C S Lewis’s Narnia series, who ventured into the depths of the earth to the land of Bism and observed the sleeping giant, and discover ripe, succulent jewels: diamonds and emeralds that could be eaten like fruit. (I have always since wondered how diamond juice would taste). The rock had a decidedly organic look to it, visceral almost.

We headed down to the lower cave by a model choo-choo train. Get in!!!!!! I even made noises.

The lower cave, as I said, was to be explored by a motor boat. It was a magical trip. I really was blown away by the whole thing, mainly because I wasn’t expecting it. I am always happy to be completely surprised. Do you ever notice that gets harder as you get older? Not because you become wiser, instead because you become more cynical.

Getting back proved to be a little difficult and taxis were charging a bomb. Luckily we met an affable old geezer who took us most of the way back. We walked back down to the freeway and jumped on the servise. I was absolutely shattered by the time we got home.

Sunday, January 20^th

Chilled out all day. Nat and I walked up to the huge mall first off to get some bits and pieces. Marcus was out with Nia for lunch. I had hoped to catch up with her and Zeina, her friend, now I was back in Lebanon, but I just had too much on my plate. Besides I had the feeling they were both enjoying spending some time together, and I was enjoying hanging out with Natalie.

Nat had hoped to take Marcus and I to visit one of the Palestinian camps she worked at. I really hoped to do this as I wanted to speak with some of the refugees and get some idea of how life was for them. Also there was going to be a show that week-end by a touring clown. This was the tip of an incredible story. This clown used to be a Spanish lawyer who had become completely disillusioned by his life and what it afforded him. So he decided to forgo his practice and travel the world performing as a clown to orphaned children. He was due to be performing that week-end. Unfortunately it turned out it that he could not make it until the week-end after. I was gutted I wouldn’t see him or meet the people in the camp. The story was inspirational though.

We took it easy for the day and in the evening we headed over to West Beirut to meet her friend Mohammed. Gadzooks!. I wish I had known how cool the bars were here when I stayed here at the beginning of the month. Mohammed was a lovely guy. He is Jordanian, a Bedouin to be specific. He is involved in modern theatre and is trying to change the way people in his country view traditions such as equality between the sexes. He is facing a hard task but he is so passionate about it. I really enjoyed chatting to him. Natalie and he had a good bond between them. After a couple of drinks we walked along the cornice and took in the crisp evening air.

Monday, January 21^st

Got up. Bummed around. Nat had to work that morning. So I walked up to the mall with Marcus. He wanted to buy Nia a little something. We spent the morning hanging out in the Mall – Lebanese people really love their shopping. Goddamn their malls are BIG! We got some food to cook a Thai Green curry that evening. I even found fresh mushrooms and fresh basil. I was amazed! We also got Natalie a wok. Marcus headed off to meet Nia for the afternoon. I could smell the romance in the air.

We had bought Nat a wok as a thank you for letting us stay with her. It was a bit touch and go as we knew she was after one herself so I could cook and had promised me she’d buy one on the way home. When I arrived back she was home and she hadn’t forgotten. She was great about it though and we returned it to the shop and she got a some pots and a chopping tray instead. Then we set about trying a veggie green curry from a recipe Siobhan and Emma had given me. Thanks guys! It was gorgeous. We chilled out for the rest of the evening and then it was time to say goodbye to Natalie. We have a plan of meeting up next year for Christmas in Tazmania when Nat is home visiting her folks. I really do hope I can make that. I was going to miss Nat a lot. She is such a cool chick. And living such an amazing life by virtue of the work she is doing in the Middle East. This is the sort of lifestyle that inspires me.

Time to get a shimmy on, however, the next day I had decided to quit Lebanon and head somewhere I not supposed to be.