Lebanon: Beirut to Tripoli

Dear All

Day trip after day trip. Old ruin after old ruin and flattened sandwich after nauseating flattened sandwich. I have been soaring in and out of Beirut for days checking out the local attractions. After Baalbek, everything else seems to suffer by comparison. I headed to Byblos.

After a day's rest from Baalbek, I took a minibus to Byblos. This is know to be the oldest city in the world. Again, there are beautiful old rocks stacked randomly around site with signs indicating a much larger structure which, I believe, the archaeologist fabricated to create a more impressive tourist attraction. The 31 steps of an amphitheatre now only have five and the pillars near the rubble is actually a huge open air chamber. Exhausted by the little sleep I have been getting sharing a room with Syrians and Jordanians who feel it is acceptable to watch TV at 4am to help them fall sleep, I left the scorching heat of the day, the emptiness of the Sunday streets and found the local bus home.

I took the luxury bus there. It was only 2000 LP instead of 750 but it was quick and non-stop though it did drop me off in the middle of the highway where there was no bus station or indication of the site. I managed to find my way around as most travellers develop an instinct for these things after a while. My way back I found a local bus which didn't travel the main highway but skimmed the coastline showing people sunbathing on big white rock beaches, jet skiing and enjoying their weekend. I passed many nightclubs with "live shows" which left me curious to know more but eager to find my bed more as I was slowing entering dreamland on the bus itself. I got dropped off in the middle of some wretched suburb of Beirut, managed to find a service taxi home and slept the day away. That night would be my first night in Beirut's legendary night scene.

The main strip is called Rue Morot or Morot Street. It is a small one lane way that starts perpendicular to the on ramp of a highway. It is full of glitzy, stylish bars and clubs some with a one-boy-one-girl policy and others with an enormous cover charge. I managed to find a blues bar and meet the owner on a slow Friday night. He mentioned that to start a bar on this street, you need to be well connected to the military at high levels. Corruption is so bad here that any blemish in your past, even before starting your business, will justify the officials in extorting you for money or simply shutting you down if it benefits another cutthroat club on the strip. There is enormous rent, expensive initial costs and cheap 1.50USD per hour staff to pay. There was a time when getting pumped in the club meant guns would be pulled and not just from those involved but from everyone. Everyone had a gun. Now, less than a decade later, it is a peaceful place where the youth of Beirut go bankrupt in their own non-aggressive way of showing off. Borrow your daddies car, credit card, wear as few colours as possible, speak English, be slick and you're there.

The next day, exhausted from a late one staring at all the eye candy, me and a few others from the hotel made our way to Sidon, called Saida by the locals. This is a fairly uneventful town with a castle that costs too much to see for whats its worth and for whats left. It sits on the Mediterranean, has a market or souq that pushes out from the harbour selling head scarves, beads and other religious ornaments, and is very, well, plain. With the exception of the WWII British cemetery that I am photographing for a friend, there is little to offer here. End paragraph.

From Beirut, back from Sidon, I stayed a few days just to kill time, and headed to Tripoli where I actually did none of the things you can do here. There are famous, in-the-bible cedars to see -you can see one on the flag - but I didn't go. I justified not going by telling myself the 15USD it would take to get there and back wasn't worth seeing as I could see these trees in Canada. Now it takes a lot for me to be amazed. Now, I feel that I am on holiday from my holiday. These are the effects of not being entertained after a year of travel. Tripoli has a citadel and a few other old rocks to look at but I passed and basically slept the days away. This city isn't as nice as Beirut nor the people as welcoming though they are friendly and considerate as typical Lebanese are. The city is a little dustier and chaotic. There is a constant rush of traffic eating the asphalt and people bustling around. The time I spent walking was really just to see a place that seemed like every other general crumbly high rise town I have been to. There is more street food one being a dry bage thing with a thin slice of cheese in it, grilled and a purple salt and pepper dusted on top. It also has a cemetery that filled a morning worth of work. At the end, I spent a total of 9 days of my 15 day visa in Lebanon.

I have to mention the hotel I went to was the Haddad Pension which has the motto "Miss your grandma?" This place is doily heaven and run by a bunch of very sweet old ladies and one with a very fine hump from dusting the place for over a century. They fed me and took care of me like I was their grandson and it was the best part of Tripoli. When I left my favourite towel in their hotel and headed to Syria, I managed to contact them and they arranged to return the towel. Bless them.

Now I sit in Hama in Syria already passing through Aleppo quickly which I will write about in my next newsletter. I have been lazy keeping the journal up but I know my travels end soon. I still have a few cities left in Syria and I am moving slow possibly to procrastinate going back to work Nobody really asks me my religion and only a few have started conversations about politics which I politely avoid. Nobody wants to deal with trouble so nobody asks. It is a pleasant exchange of don't-ask-don't-tell. I feel very safe and welcomed here.

Be well




Oren Jalon
World Traveller