Lebanon for the non-squeamish

If you take the Beirut to Damascus highway, take the exit to the Bekaa Valley, and you will come to a place that is beyond beautiful. The Bekaa region has produced wine going back to Roman times and has several fine vineyards that export around the world. In the Spring of 2017 I was there to visit a friend whose family owns one such vineyard.

Lebanon, particularly South Lebanon, is not for the faint of heart. I sat in glorious sunshine with my friend, cognizant that my American passport and my Hebrew last name were especially unusual in Hezbollah’s backyard. We remarked that all was quiet and peaceful in this place, for the moment at least.

Lebanon is in a tough neighborhood; if its troubles are not internal, there is spillover from surrounding countries. The country, and in particular Beirut, was “hosting” 2 million refugees from next-door Syria. You could see them gathered in groups at rotaries, quietly hoping for day jobs to earn a few bucks. This is a large number for a small country with a small population, and resentment was palpable.

I continued down the road from Bekaa to Baalbek, the sight I had come to see. Milling around the Temple of Jupiter, I astonished at the huge scale; the three largest megalithic stones in the world make up part of its base. These “ruins” are more intact and impressive than the Forum in Rome. Tourists are few and far between, with no McDonalds or Starbucks in sight.?This is a border area and Syria, by the way, is just beyond.

There was a loud explosion, followed quickly by another. The ground shook. Quickly bundling into the car, my guide and I were soon out of the area. She made a phone call and gave the update: there had been an airstrike in Syria. Later I heard that President Trump had ordered the airstrike with 59 cruise missiles on the Shayrat Airbase in Syria. This air force facility was used for storing chemical weapons used in a nerve agent attack on Khan Sheikhoun, only 3 days prior.

Shortly after, I was treated to the great culture of this ancient land by participating in La Nuit Des Musees, the night when museums in Beirut are free to the public. There is a festive atmosphere, with street stalls selling food being cooked onsite. I made a trip to North Lebanon the same evening, to visit a modern art museum there, and was honored to meet the founder-owners. On the drive back, about 2 blocks from my hotel in downtown Beirut, the minibus directly in front in front came to a dead stop. There was a van in front of it, that had pulled up perpendicular to block it. The van door popped open, armed men came out and entered the minivan. “I think we should go,” said my friend, who was driving.

As I wandered alone downtown, the complexities of this place were particularly striking. Beirut is a phoenix that has been destroyed and arose again multiple times over the centuries. It is not a safe place, but I did not feel unsafe as a solo woman traveler. There are two building along the Green Line (the old division of the city) that are still bullet-ridden and partially destroyed, deliberately left as a reminder of the terrible civil war that raged only a few decades ago.

What stands out most are the amazing people and their spirit. Having been through so much, they live dynamically for the day with a fierce determination to enjoy life. There is a “live and let live” attitude of openness and acceptance to all kinds of people that is particularly refreshing. I was sad to leave this country and hoped I would be able to visit again soon. Much of the downtown area I walked was destroyed when the port explosion occurred in 2020. I recall sitting at a café, looking through the menu and seeing a list of sandwishes (misspelled: sandwiches). I have a sandwish for Lebanon: Peace. This country has earned it many times over.