My weekend in Beirut

My weekend in Beirut.

My blogs are like London busses, you wait ages for 1 and then two come along at once (and also, as you'll see, they're full of angst, confusion, extortion and traffic mishaps...). The reasons for this delay will become clear as you read but I do appologise and promise to try harder next time!

After the first week of my Arabic course had been completed, I decided it was time for me to get out of Syria for a bit and see what neighbouring Lebanon had to offer. So, in theory, a quick 4 hour drive accross the border it was to be. In theory it remained. The crossing actually ended up taking more than 6 hours due to a sequencecial bureaucratic nightmare so typical of this trip so far. Firstly we were dropped off at a supermarket where we were instructed to purchase our Syrian exit cards. I'd forgotten about this petty extortion but atleast it was legal. Once over the the Lebanese border was when the REAL theft started. Despite instructions on the Lebanese immigration web site that 48 hour visas should be free, and a massive sign in the border office backing this up, we were fleeced of 25000 Lebanese which works out at more than a day's budget in Damascus. I decided kicking off in no mans land between two neighbours with a tempestuous history wasn't that wise but inside I was fuming. And this was just the start of my weekend of financial suicide.

As we jumped out of the bus at a "station" which could just as easily be described as a public toilet in the pouring rain with only a vague understanding of how this "spaghetti junction" style intersection related to our Lonely Planet map, typically lacking in accuracy and detail, I was beginning to wish I'd stayed in Damascus - a city where discombobulation is atleast diluted with charm.

Eventually we found a Lonely Planet recommended hostel which was naturally full (coincidentally with a large party from our University) so we decided to go next door to the second best (cheapest) on the street! My travelling partner Takishi and I took the last two beds and headed out to see what the town had to offer. Almost immediately before us appeared a building of such extravegancy that it drew an excited cry of "OH MY GOSH IT'S DISNEYLAND!! Oh no, just a mosque", from Takishi. We would return in the day to see the inside of this mosque which matched it's incredible external appearance (pics to follow inshallah).

Before long we found Rou Gerard - famous for its swanky, mediocre, trendy, naff, cool, pretentious, expensive, good value, charming and brash bars (delete depending on interpretation). Our first evening mixing with Lebanon's most trendy (sitting on our own for most of the night before having a drink with a few people from Oxford) was uneventful for all concerned (except my wallet).

Thankfully, Lebanon by day was a considerably more interesting. We wondered around the town in awe of the everpresent dichotomy of flash, Paris-inspired architecture, glistening coffee bars and icecream places, highrise Hotels reminiscent of Dubai and a waterfront which one can imagine resembling Miami on a busy day and the bullet-hole ridden sculptures, garage doors and - most interestingly - hotels that had once been perfect nests for snipers and had, thus, been blown to smitherines! This was clearly a war zone in recovery but one that was being rescued with pizzaz by the country's seemingly unexplained riches. Saying this, we only saw the central areas. I am under the impression that the outskirts of town are a rather different story!

It was also plesant to dip our toes in the mediterranian next to the famous Pigeon rock and soak up some unexpectedly intense sun rays! However, life in central Lebanon seemed to not be all beer and skittles. The presense of military men with enormous, state of the art weapons (in contrast to the Syrians' battered old AK47 style guns) was, at times, overbearing. At one stage Takishi and I decided to play "spot the army" with 1 point for a soldier and 2 points for a tank. We both had 10 points within a couple of minutes and a 500 meter stroll!

We also had to re-route ourselves a few times due to roads that were blocked off by walls, barbed wire and soldiers and were subject to a couple of bag searches in the more politically active areas of town.

The second night in town was slightly more eventful than the first. We went out for possibly the most uninspiring pasta I've ever had which cost about 4 times that of our favourite place in Damascus - Bayt Jabri. Then a quick trip back to the hostel to lease with other tourists there lead to heading out in search of the finest Lebanese Karioke. The first bar we found had a very Lebanese soundtrack so none of us would brave having a go there. The second had enough foreigners in it to encourage a rendition of "Ring of Fire" and "I want to break free" from our group.

The stand out feature of both bars, however, was the appearent professional standard of all the local participants! The Lebanese seem to take their Karioke far too seriously! I barely heard a duff note the entire night. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that a beer costs more than a month's rent on the edge of town, but I think, the Beiruti obsession with appearing as cool and attractive as possible at all times was a more important contributing factor - if you can't sing, or dance like Michael Jackson, then pouting is an adequate substitute skill.

For me, the novelty of this soon wore off and I headed home on my own as everyone else seemed to have a higher tolerance for searing alto warbles and hostile looks from the barmen who were noting that us stingy Damascene student types hadn't bought a drink in over an hour. My walk home was even more exciting than the bar. Determined to speed-walk and to stay in sight of the many armed men, I was like an anti-spy, ensuring safe passage by being as obvious as possible in this unfamiliar and slightly nervewracking City.

The next day we visited the "disneyland" mosque (I'm sure I'm being terribly offensive by calling it that but the real name escapes me now) before heading to the bus station to try and wangle our return home. Alarm bells were ringing when the lady selling tickets said it would cost "about 12 dollars". I mean, she only sells tickets for 1 route in 1 type of bus at set times of day - how can it be ABOUT anything? It was, of course, nearly half that in the end (after going away and coming back) and the return journey was much less stressful than getting there!

It was on the service bus from the bus station back into town that I was silently appreciating the warm feeling inside that I was "home" when another minibus stormed into the side of our own sending everyone flying forward towards my own rear facing seat. It was to be the begining of my first bad few days in Damascus... TBC

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