At Christmas time an odd notion formed. Rather than sit in the comfort of a warm house and engorge on silly amounts of food, a backpacking adventure around the Middle East somehow became the logical alternative . For a fleeting second there were thoughts you might have right now such as “why?” and “surely life is going to suck once you are dead right?”. Such musings were brushed aside, a mocking laugh was conjured at those sitting in the comfort of pool side hotels somewhere and instead a challenge was issued to experience an ancient area of the world few westerners ever make it to.
Yes, the west has a pretty dim view of the Middle East as a whole. In fact if you were to believe the media you basically expect to land at the airport, walk outside, be kidnapped and then appear in a grainy hostage video shortly thereafter. Such sensationalisms could not be any further from the truth. This Middle Eastern experience was so much more than one could ever imagine, may you enjoy reading about it, may it perhaps change a few minds ever so slightly along the way.
The first and most difficult hurdle was decided to go, that was conquered. The next was to actually escape the UK. Heathrow Airport was completely shut down due to snow and it took four days to escape England ’s icy clutches. It was a pretty harrowing sight really, thousands of people camped inside the terminals on newspapers, more outside in makeshift tents at sub-zero temperatures. The flight was to Beirut , Lebanon and upon touchdown there were Palestinian refugee camps in better condition than those at Heathrow. It was also a balmy 22 degrees too; a thing of utmost beauty.
On a practical note though, these checkpoints don’t seem to achieve much other than slow traffic (they merely say hello and wave you through with a twitch of an M-16). Actually, I take that back, slowing traffic is a brilliant, wonderful thing. Being the first part of our journey, this was the first exposure to driving in the Middle East , which is a combination of a rickety roller coaster ride and Grand Theft Auto the video game. A car driver here embarks on their journey protected by no road rules; only a love affair with the horn, whatever safety systems are afforded by a 1970’s Mercedes Benz, a mound of good luck charms and a level of spatial awareness hitherto unseen in any mortal.
Basically there is one lane on the road, cars going both directions then “fill” that lane as it seems appropriate. If you need more overtaking space, you just make yourself another lane – and since you created it, the people coming 100kmh in the other direction are supposed to admire your cunning tenacity and give way. This, naturally, doesn’t always happen and side to side neck whiplash occurs as your car darts back into safety of more established lanes.
But it gets better. Typically the major roads have no breaks in the concrete median strip/wall for miles. What this means is drivers who pull onto a road that want to only go a few minutes down the road in the opposite direction to the flow of traffic on their side of the median strip simply drive against the flow of traffic down the hard shoulder. If they want to overtake each other then they just “make more lanes”. Knuckles … going … white …
Oh wait, there’s more. If you have the misfortune of still being stuck out in a car after nightfall, a new driving technique comes into play. When approaching an intersection you just turn off your lights to see if any other headlights are coming, if not you just cruise on through. It’s a foolhardy practice at best when you consider pedestrians, but when you realise that the entire nation is doing it, the possibilities dawn on you. Knuckles … fluorescent … white …
Also impressive was the ruins of Anjar; arguably the world’s oldest shopping mall. Here amongst the sprawling columns of a long forgotten Arabic trading centre, thousands of pots and chests have been recovered showing it as a crossroads for rare and exotic goods from Africa, Asia and Europe . Quite simply superb to ruin hop through.
Somewhat surprisingly, nestled away in the beautiful Bekaa valley between the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon mountain ranges, lay a few hidden vineyards that make incredible wines. A legacy from French occupation, the Lebanese people have continued this tradition with gusto. One such winery, Ksara, possessed a maze of natural caves underneath where years and years of future wines now lay in rest maturing. Much of it was taste tested, it helped mentally prepare for more excitement on the roads.
Sadly, time in Lebanon was limited due to the Heathrow debacle. This time was long enough to be able to identify a car purely by it’s exhaust perfume but certainly not long enough to see all this small land has to offer. Lebanon is modern and the people know how to enjoy life but at the same time has some issues with their southern neighbour that become apparent with a mere scratching of the surface in a conversation. It’s infinitely less dangerous then you would believe and a place to remember. I’d hoped to be ‘Phoenician’ on a witty double entendre here with a Lebanese context but nothing came to mind really.
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