Honestly, we hummed and ha'ed about going to Lebanon for ages. Well, El Puma didn't, because as soon as he knew that one of his best mates in Paris was going to marry his Lebanese girlfriend in Lebanon, he told me he wanted to go. And I was only indecisive until El Puma told me it would be my birthday treat. But it was never really on my bucket list of places to go, and I definitely wasn't going to take the children for their own safety, and I was concerned enough to make sure all my affairs were in order before we left, but it turns out I needn't have worried at all.
Beirut is a traffic-congested nightmare, but only on that level. The rest of it, and Lebanon, was amazing. So much history, culture and cultural diversity, good food, kind people, and amazing scenery. It helped that we were part of a massive French wedding party contingent so we got ferried around by bus and had everything organised for us, but still...
Our (ahem, El Puma's) biggest error was flying overnight and landing at 3.30am. A mahoosive long immigration queue meant we got to the hotel at 5am, slept 2.5 hours, and joined the group in time to take the bus to Byblos, a city on the coast 42km north of Beirut.
It is believed to have been occupied first between 8800 and 7000 BC, making it one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. It is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Papyrus received its early Greek name (bublos) from its importation to the Aegean through this city - ultimately it's also where the word Bible (the papyrus book) came from.
All of Lebanon, including Byblos, was placed under the French mandate from 1920-1943 when Lebanon achieved independence. It's now a bit of a tourist hub and is known for its fish restaurants - as well as the fact that Marlon Brando and Frank Sinatra were regular visitors here in the 1960s and 1970s. It was chosen at the best Arab tourist city in 2013 by the World Tourism Organisation.
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| El Puma at the old port |
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| Brunch! |
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| Looking from the old fort to the new town |
We all made it home in time to shower, put on white clothes, and head back up the coast in our bus to the first wedding party, hosted by Vannessa's dad in a seaside restaurant. The food was incredible but smoking is not prohibited in public places (everybody smokes there) and the music accompanying the Lebanese dancing got ear-splittingly loud at one point. Or maybe the 5am arrival was catching up with me.
But our long day and hard work of the day before was rewarded on Friday when we went back up the coast, this time to the beach. The beach was more rocks than sand and the waves were more point break than the Caribbean, but it was still incredible. The water was stunningly warm and eye-wateringly salty, but it was great to relax...first at the beach....
....aand later at the hotel's roof top pool. Yeah, totally spoilt.
We had needed to recharge our batteries because that night was Bastille Day, and the whole group was on the invite list for the French Embassy in Beirut. What. A. Party.
The whole thing was free (unlike someone else's summer party), French companies were displaying their wares (food, drink, drink, food) to help ourselves, the Embassy was lit up, there was a rock band, then a rock-violin performance, then the can-can (yes really), then some fire-sticks drum beating, and then the DJ. I have no idea how the whole of Beirut was not annoyed by that incredibly loud bass disco beat. The whole thing was outdoors and it was swelteringly hot. And of course nowhere to sit.
But there was an actual bakery baking actual fresh french bread on site. Like I said, What. A. Party. Could've done with a residence like that myself in Beirut mind. Clearly a hardship posting.
As we bailed around midnight, we had plenty of energy to explore Beirut itself on Saturday morning. I had wanted to learn more about the Lebanese civil wars and the history of the country in general, but apart from the National Museum which was stuffed full of artefacts (but not much information), we had to rely on what we could see with our own eyes, like this bullet ridden building.
The whole of Beirut is a construction site, and although much of the very old is being preserved, the very new is very much over-shadowing this long and dramatic history, and I had to rely on wikipedia to fill in the historical gaps.
One thing is clear is that the main religions seem to operate peacefully side by side. We visited an Orthodox Cathedral, a maronite church and the main mosque.
And then we had another swim in the hotel pool before getting ready for the night we had been waiting for: the whole reason we had come all this way and spent so much time slumming it at the beach, eating good food, and learning about life here....
The main gala dinner was held at Vannessa's mum and step-father's house in the mountains behind Beirut. And what a view it was. Vannessa's step-father is one of the most successful architects in Lebanon (and he must be pretty busy these days) and they had an enormous mansion with a pool, a terrace, actual grass, and an incredible sunset view over the capital, about 40km away.
Vannessa's mum used the opportunity to invite all of her high-society friends, and at one point it was difficult to tell whose wedding it really was. All the women looked as if they had received extensive 'help' to look as young, beautiful and buxom as they did. But Lebanese women are not that thin I've found, and once the middle-age spread has spread, it's quite difficult to hide. So their faces didn't quite match the rest of them. But boy, did they know how to pose. And pose they did, because a photographer from the local hello-magazine equivalent was there, and apparently a double page spread will appear in the next issue.
It was that kind of a party.
Our 'high-society' picture:
There were even fireworks...
...which in an unexpected comedy moment set one of the neighbour's trees on fire.
As is traditional for the Lebanese apparently, the party for them was over around midnight, and they all traipsed out in their killer heels. But they'd been dancing since 9pm when the French were just starting their main course, so I guess they'd had a pretty good night.
A pretty good night for the French men meant ending up in the pool:
We carried on until the bus left at 3am: a holiday without the holiday part.
But it was great fun, and not at any single point did I feel less than 100% secure, so it must still be something about the image of Beirut that it gives off.
We spent the Sunday travelling home and are now just awaiting for our babies to join us from Brest. Judging by the number of photos of them with ice-cream mouths, I think they had just as much fun.
