What Happened In Lebanon-Part 1

"Hezbollah T-Shirt! Five dollar my friend!"

Jan 31, 2024

September-2018 “You’re going to Lebanon? You crazy mate.”, said James. I was wrapping up my job with Kimberley Wild Expeditions and coming to the end of my Working Holiday Visa. “Don’t worry I’m all good.”, I told him. A short week later I was at the airport in Perth. As we gain altitude and see the West Coast fade away, I still hadn’t registered that my one year living in Australia had come to an end. Too many memories to compile and reflect on. I’d have to sort through the pages later, as I was about to enter a new world.

We fly over the Indian Ocean during the night and in the early morning have a quick layover in Abu Dhabi. From the air it looks like most of the neighborhoods are built in a grid. Perfect squares. The vastness of the desert and rolling dunes go off into the horizon. A deep red. We fly over the desert and around Cyprus to approach Beirut from the north. The flight path (or perhaps safe airspace) is narrow. On the screen map in front of my chair, I noticed all the countries are labeled except for Israel. Looking out of the window, Beirut is an absolute sprawl and massive city. The smog hides more finite details of life on the ground. After landing we line up at Customs. Several windows are open. I see one Officer at his desk, he doesn’t appear to be busy. The other windows were taking a long time to let people through. I decide to walk up to his window.

“I did not call you!”, he scoffed. “You only come when called!”

“Oh, sorry sir I thought you were open.”

“Give me your passport!” He takes a long time looking at the many stamps.

“What is this one?!”

“That’s from Mongolia sir.” He calls another Officer and they talk for a long minute.

“You’re American? What are you doing here?”

“Tourist sir just three weeks.”

“Have you ever been to Israel?”

“No.”

“What do you think about Israel?”

“I don’t know, it’s a country.”

…………“Ok go!” He then slaps my passport down hard on the counter. “Thank you sir.”

“Well that wasn’t a warm welcome.”, I thought. I’m sure you all are aware of the political situation in the Middle East. I’m not going to comment on that scope, but just know if there is proof you’ve been to Israel(They give you an entry card, no stamp), some of the surrounding countries won’t allow you in. As I walk outside Arrivals, I see a swathe of Taxi drivers. I had pre-booked one to my hostel because from my research, without Arabic, the public transport out of the airport would be a hassle for a first time foreigner. I usually don’t mind, but I’ll take convenience today. I see an older fellow holding a sign with my name. We cheerfully greet each other, but he doesn’t speak English. We pull out onto the highway. He puts on Arabic dance music, and I get my first looks at this city. Electrical wires sprawled from one building to the next. Some show damage from past conflicts. Its a concrete jungle essentially. The mountains rise close by, as well as portions of the city. The rest hugs the sea. Traffic darts back and forth on the road. Off the highway, many side streets are narrow and steep. The buildings seem to stack on top of each other, clamoring for space. The sounds of passing vehicles, honking, engines revving, is constant. Innumerable amount of staircases sit in-between many buildings. You’ll definitely get a good work out in this city.

There are bullet holes on the wall outside of the building my hostel is located at. Lets call it art. A dozen floors up, there’s several rooms and a terrace with a good view of the street below. Its in a local neighborhood of similar high-rises, and in a calm area. I also have to mention its hot and humid. That sticky kind of humid and I’m already drenched. Today is really quiet, not many other guests. I have the dorm to myself and after throwing my bag down I take a cold shower. Doesn’t matter much, in a few minutes I’m sweating again. A young couple works reception. They give me a run down of things to see and do and I’m off to wander. I love exploring a new city on foot. I’ll contently spend all day. Wherever the streets take me, I’ll observe everything around.

I walk past the port and into downtown. Some of these streets were later decimated in the tragic 2020 Explosion. The buildings all in this area have a golden tint to them. Mixed in is cobblestoned streets, upscale shopping, and fancy cafes. Next to that is an open plaza called Martyrs’ Square with patches of ancient ruins. A mix of Crusader and Roman architecture pokes itself up from the ground, still sparsely receiving sunshine against the forefront of modern day Lebanon. On the corner, right next to each other, sits the Mohammad Al Amin Mosque and the Saint George Maronite Cathedral. Behind them sits an excavation of the Roman Forum, an Orthodox Cathedral, and a Catholic Cathedral. There is also a Mausoleum of the prominent figure Rafic Hariri. I loved seeing both the Cross and the Crescent Moon built side by side together. Considering the role religion has played throughout history in the region, I stand in awe as I hear both the church bells ring and the call to prayer sound off from the megaphones. In peace. It’s beautiful listening to the prayers. You’ll never hear them in the US.

Roman Forum. The Cross and the Crescent Moon side by side.

I eagerly walk towards the coast. It’s my first time at the Mediterranean and I need to “baptize” myself in its waters. I’m already in love and I haven’t even laid my eyes on the sea yet. I believe the entire area around the Med by far is the healthiest place and overall holding an exceptional quality of life you can have anywhere in the world. Feel free to comment your rebuttals. One block from the Mosque-Cathedral duo is various Government buildings. There are many soldiers here guarding and walking around. Some concrete barriers and bunker posts are set up. From here is a main road and then depending on your direction, the sea is either a short walk or a long walk. I take the long way. Some streets don’t have sidewalks so I try to navigate my way safely from the passing cars and meandering pedestrian traffic. After an hour of crossing the city, I come out of the shade that the surrounding towers provide and step into the light of a sunny Mediterranean day. The wind gently greets me as I have arrived at the Al Raouche Rocks and a glorious view of the blue sea beyond. The road is on a small cliff above the waves but off to the side you can walk down next to the rocks. I jump in and enjoy the water. I don’t see other tourists. All local people. I laugh to myself at what I have done. There’s a first for everything.

Back at the hostel, I meet three guys. From Belgium, UK, and unfortunately I don’t recall where the third was from. We kick off with some good conversation and drinks. We walk around together at night and find a back alley restaurant which is definitely the best hummus I’ve ever tasted. All food I end up having while in this country becomes by far some of the best in all my travels. One guy tells us about the city of Baalbek and it’s impressive Roman Ruins. We’re sold. In the morning, we’ll figure out how to get there.

Public transport works in sections. Vans or minibuses drive certain areas. Most don’t have a sign. You just wave them down from the road. Certain roundabouts for example are the intersections for one van to the next. Get off and wave the next one down. This is something we don’t discover until later, as each driver we struggled with the language barrier. Just ask where the bus is going and enjoy the confusion. At an unknown roundabout closer to the mountains, the minibus driver says yes when we shout out “Baalbek?!”. We juggle ourselves onto the packed seats and zip along out of the city. I observe the driver waving his hand forward looking at people along the road, signaling he has open seats. We drive onto 30, the International Beirut-Damascus Hwy. The road begins to sharply twist and turn as we climb elevation to cross the mountains. Still we pass more houses and neighborhoods with sweeping views of the sea below. It’s green on the Med side but across, things turn to desert near instantly. I’m surprised at how quick the change occurs. There is some fog at the top and the air is shockingly cold. As we transition back down in elevation the dry heat of the desert and searing sun awaits us.

At Chtoura, I see the intersection for the Syrian border. I’m thinking how it would be surreal to visit the country someday, but this was 2018. Still quite a few problems and struggles going on for them. We turn north and end up driving through a refugee camp. Thousands upon thousands were here. As we drive through, I observe how the refuge is in decrepit condition. Tents, shacks. Like a slum. The smell was that of an open sewer. Piles of trash stacked all along the street. Dirty and half naked children. It was pretty bad. I’m reminded of the privilege that I carry. Here I am, a world away from home, looking at these people face to face. I can just go get back on a plane and fly to a place I’m sure these people would be ecstatic if given the chance out. But they are stuck here.

As we get nearer to Baalbek, the agriculture in the surroundings hills have a multitude of color shades ranging from red, orange, yellow, brown, and green. To our left you can no longer see the green of the Med. To our right, massive dunes and rocky hills form the Syrian Border and true start to the immensity of Middle Eastern desert. Gazing at the scenery is interrupted when we get to Baalbek, as we go through a military checkpoint. I noticed here there are Hezbollah flags rather than Lebanese flags. They can be described as a “state within a state”, and do wield influence within the Lebanese government. They are also labeled as a terrorist organization by the US government. Pretty crazy. Things however feel peaceful here. After we snake our way through concrete barriers, a dozen soldiers, machine gun nests, and an armored personnel carrier with mounted machine gun, we are in and dropped off next to the ruins. We decided to grab some fast food shawarma with chai and then enter the complex.

Walking past all the merchant shops they call out to us: “My friends! Hezbollah T-Shirt five dollar! Good price for you! Would you like some chai?” We politely decline and I laugh imagining TSA’s reaction if I were to wear that shirt at the airport back in the US. Probably would end up on a no fly list. The Roman Ruins here are a UNESCO World Heritage site, and consists of some of the best preserved examples of ancient city life outside of Rome. It’s a massive archaeological site. There is also very few tourists. We can wander and enjoy without crowds of people. It was surreal. The surviving temples are some of the largest preserved in the entire Empire. How they managed to construct everything with such precision is a mystery to me. The pillars so round and smooth as if crafted yesterday. The finite, and detailed designs go beyond imagination. We walk up the steps and enter a central square. The base of stone houses outline the square and to the side the temples stand tall and proud. Valiantly defying the tests of time.