Withdrawing from the culture I grew up with this past year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I was born and raised in England, and since 2008 had been living in Canada. Both countries are very wealthy with a high standard of living. Creature comforts are what we expect. We don’t appreciate them. Now, living in Lebanon, and Armenia before that has really made me appreciate the ease of life I was born into, and how easy life will be for me when I return home.
I’ve been based in Beirut for the better part of two months now. Two months of electricity only for sporadic hours during the day, where on Sundays the constant electrical flow from the plug sockets is considered a treat. Life has been skewed to something unfathomable by myself a year ago, when I had my own – by comparison – luxurious Vancouver apartment. Clean, drinkable tap water, unlimited hot water, power, cleanliness, order. Now I share a two bedroom apartment with ten people and two dogs. It’s by no means an ideal situation, but it’s something that you get used to. I either sleep in the living room with three other people, or I sleep in my tent on the roof – where the neighbours always eye me with suspicion when I emerge into the dawn.
The neighbourhood of Borj Hammoud, where I find myself, is tightly packed, and a hive of activity. Across the street, the local kebab place has it’s own insane self-styled stranger-heckling comedian, who shouts profanities and jokes at anyone who is listening (and anyone who isn’t). Fortunately, they make a damn good kebab, and it’s a little over two dollars for one that’ll fill you up for hours. Next to that is the convenience store. Everything you’ll ever need under the sun is there. A couple of streets away are stores selling everything from clothes, to spices, to car parts. It’s little wonder that many residents never leave Borj Hammoud.
But Lebanon has so much more to offer. Get out of this neighbourhood and you have the whole of glorious Beirut on your doorstep. A short taxi ride or walk away, and you’re in the funky district of Gemmeyzeh, with it’s bars, restaurants, and cafes. The many old French buildings still stand next to new developments. Some of the old structures are beautifully restored, whilst others lay empty and tumbledown. I find myself employed at one of the local bars four nights a week. It’s when I return home at between three and five AM that I finally get to experience Borj Hammoud in it’s silent, dormant state. Unfortunately, I know that within a few hours I will be rudely awakened from my mercilessly short slumber by the other residents of the house all rising to go to their day jobs. At least once they’ve all left I can catch up on lost sleep.
But that’s Beirut only – and just a tiny piece of this huge city – and I’ve not even talked about downtown, the splendor of Zeitunai Bay, or the bustle of Hamra and Raouche. On my free days I like to get out of the city. There is plenty else to see, with Lebanon playing host to an array of historical sites. Indeed, we are within striking distance of the Holy Land, and with that came the path from Europe to it. As a result, there are many relics from the time of the Great Crusades – where Christians swept back east from Europe en masse to try and retake the holy city of Jerusalem, and it’s surrounding areas, from Islam. The fighting went on for centuries, and still there is much hostility in this region – and the Christians never did hold on to the city. Fortunately, the remnants are still there to be seen, with the calm beauty of places like the old Phoenician city of Byblos, the birthplace of the first alphabet, sporting an old Crusader fort, and gorgeous, quaint harbour, available an hour from Lebanons capital.
The Romans did their fair share of conquests here too. Last week, a few of us visited Baalbeck, in the northern part of Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, with the Syrian border visible a mile away on the mountain slopes. We chose the time to visit this city carefully, for there are reports every few weeks of cross-border fighting between Lebanese and Syrian rebel forces in this area. However, despite the apparent danger, Baalbeck was calm when I visited, and the Roman ruins here, the most amazing and well preserved ones I’ve ever seen, were utterly spectacular.
Life has been pretty interesting since arriving in Lebanon. There is much to see, and much of the country still remains unexplored for me. Whilst it continues to rain back in Vancouver, the sun shines in Lebanon, and the weather grows ever warmer. Having jumped in the sea a few days ago, after a trip on a fishing boat to a deserted island for a picnic lunch, I realised that in fact that water here is not at all cold. It was in fact quite pleasant. At the time, we were in the northern city of Tripoli, where the British Foreign Office website warns travellers to avoid all travel, due to a high threat of violence and “terrorism”. Of course, I didn’t spend my entire day (or the time I visited Tripoli a few weeks ago for that matter) dodging bullets, or running from cover to cover. No, instead we had the chance to check out the gorgeous old soap souk, take the aforementioned boat ride, and generally enjoy the experience of taking in another historic, and quite peaceful city. Like all places I’ve visited in Lebanon, there is an abundance of heavily armed military personnel hanging around, and solider-laden Humvees patrolling the streets, but all remains calm.
So this adventure continues to chug along. In a few weeks, it will be an entire year since my older brother Tom and I mounted our bicycles, and set forth for Mexico. 12 months later, I’ve cycled, hitchhiking, and taken the minimum amount of flights possible to come to Lebanon, via the United States, Mexico, England, Turkey, Georgia, Armenia and Iran. It’s been quite the eventful time, and my passport doesn’t know what hit it.
