The enthralling story of a beautiful people with the saddest story, Lebanon 6/2023 (Stop 5 Part 1)

I want no bloodshed, but we should learn lessons from the past. I wanted to see bullet holes, not blood.

After Jordan, my next destination was Lebanon. Going via Syria would have been the shortest and cheapest, but it could mean getting caught in the crossfire. So, for a 40-minute flight, I paid more than USD 200 from Amman to Beirut. It should be worth it!

They had internal conflicts. They had covid. They had an earth-shattering explosion of big combustible material storage not too long ago that killed hundreds, shook the country, and shocked the world. They are still reeling from these.

Caption: Memorial sculpture at Beirut port blast, on the left the damaged grain silos after the explosion

On arrival, my Airbnb host informed me there was no water, so he was buying water delivered by water tankers. I saw a truck on a busy street running the fat hose along the wall up to an apartment balcony on the 5th floor. I also soon came to know that there was a power blackout every 4 hours. Kind of their new normal.

Caption: A water tanker delivering water by pumping water through the hose connected to the upper floor of an apartment block in the evening on a busy city street

As I walked around the city, semi-automatic gun-carrying soldiers, checkpoints, and barbed wire were quite visible. Churches and mosques, like the Sunni, Shia, and Christians, are co-existing side by side. The sun was bright but it did not sting badly. The blue sky and the breeze gave this place a feel of eternal spring. Cafes abound, loud music continued to blare, from the bars and passing cars, and the people still chin up and looked their best. This is a chill place. They are resilient. They have seen it all, just as we have heard it all before, over the decades. I think they are going to party through all the hardships.

Nejmeh Square, the main square of downtown Beirut, home to the Lebanese Parliament and an iconic clock tower

To know Lebanon, I have to venture out of Beirut. So I waved down a local minibus to Batroun, 50 km away. The driver drove like a maniac, charging at on-coming cars, none of us belted in.

Batroun is a small seaside town facing the Mediterranean, low key and demure, in contrast to Beirut’s flamboyance and tenseness. The best thing for intruders to do is to stroll around the neighborhood of old houses and cobbled stones, explore the rocky beaches and the cafes, and enjoy the rare quiet reflective moments pretty much to yourself.