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21 February 2010
Phoenicia
'Asie!' the evocatrice sings out three times at the start of Ravel's Scheherazade as she conjures up the mystery and mesmerizing thrill of the orient. This is not the Asia of Bali, Singapore or Mumbai but that of pashas and harems, sultans and minarets. For me it is Istanbul and now Lebanon. I was shocked at first with the ghost town feeling of Beirut as we came in time to ask the hotel to switch the AC to heat. The unseasonal frigidity literally kept everyone off the streets. But that did not last for more than our initial week here. The warmth returned – as did the choking traffic and the bustling life of this fascinating country. The building boom here is awesome: new high-rise after high-rise appears to be undergoing construction ubiquitously and along side the countless remnants of bullet-ridden shells of buildings dating from the long civil war (1975-1990) and the later Israeli attacks of 2006. Most impressive here is the Lebanese banking system that collectively kept out of the sub-prime real estate margin opportunities elsewhere and has prudently remained solvent and positive throughout the checkered history of the country. Lebanon is indeed the 'Switzerland of the Middle East'. This may not be Ravel's Asie, but the perplexity of the factionalism that lurks here everywhere just beneath the surface evokes the same fascinating inscrutability, while the friendliness and enchanting loveliness of the Lebanese people interspersed with a lively ex-patriot community reminiscent of something straight-out out of Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet combine to give an Asie of the twenty-first century.
A highlight of the whole round-the-world travels occurred as we arrived at the Beirut airport. As we were approaching passport control, I scarcely heard one of the officers along the side of the corridor mention, "Michael and Richard." I replied yes; he asked to see our passports and then offered us chairs in a nearby office and asked if we wanted anything to drink. Our passports were accompanied to the Diplomats counter while we waited. As I quickly guessed, the man whose office we were in was one of Vicky's English language students. We were royally treated and then quickly ushered through the whole procedure and into the lobby where Vicky was waiting for us. This was so completely different from the mad scramble and long waits we endured later when returning from a day in Damascus and had to go again through passport control – with the hall plunging as well into darkness when the lights went out.
Like our beloved Gary and Stef, Vicky and Fred are purely hip and utterly enjoyable to be with. Their company has been at least the match of any of the countless delights we have been so privileged to have experienced during our stay in Phoenicia. And through them we have met countless fun people who have also learned to savour the joys of this cosmopolitan and inscrutable country – from Brighde, Tracey, Laurence, Marge, Mary, Noel, Jude, Janmarie, Marti, David, Paul, Wissam, Sabina, Jo, Sam, Anthony, Kris, Tom, Jean-Marie, Mark and many others as well.
Byblos turned out to be one of the excursion visits I have enjoyed the most. The ruins are lovely, clearly and informatively marked, and the town is quaint. Beyond this ancient centre where the alphabet appears to have been first developed, we have been to Tyre (the hippodrome and stunning seaside Roman ruins), Sidon (the Medina and most impressive Soap Museum), Baalbek and the Chouf Mountains and the village of Deir El-Qamar that reminded us much of Aups. Within Beirut, we have visited the National Museum, the American University of Beirut Museum, Maronite and Orthodox churches of Saint George, the Al Khodr Mosque that is built over what legend has as the site where George slew the Dragon, a Lebanese Philharmonic Orchestra concert (Hoffmeister's Viola Concerto and Schumann's Third Symphony), a graffiti art exhibit opening at the Art Lounge (which, apart from the absence of intoxicating vapours, is pure Amsterdam), the most impressive Wellspring Learning Community, the overwhelming flag-waving and musically filled Hariri memorial rally (held on St. Valentine's Day and the fifth anniversary of his assassination), the modest but complete Lebanese Prehistory Museum, the sumptuous Robert Mouawad Private Museum (with among countless other treasures, the world's second largest cut diamond, the Excelsior), the charming Ibrahim Najem's House of Collectibles, and a British-Lebanese Business Group's lecture on the environment in Lebanon (with an open bar no less). The audience response to this last was also informative and curious – with several expressing skepticism that the global warming contentions are simply a con job and energizing me all the more to locate the legitimate evidence that supports the theory. The convincing argument, however, was that actions taken for reducing waste are cost saving. Apart from this, we also have finally had a chance to get to the cinema (Nine; New York, I Love You; Up in the Air; and Valentine's Day.)
Damascus was also curious. We had opted for a day's tour with Nakhal because of the possible difficulties and long delay involving a visa for Richard with his American passport at the border. It was not painless but infinitely easier. Richard was dreading the visit to Syria and had a moment of terror when he got separated from the group just after we had reached the souk. I found the city (another of the world's most ancient) and her people enchanting but remember my indifference when the guide told us that the street we were on, the Via Recta, was where St. Paul heard 'the voice of the Lord'. Even more indifferent I found myself to be to the presence of Islam in and around the Omayyad Mosque however impressive it is. I liked the comfort and sound-absorption of the wall-to-wall carpeting but bemoaned the loss of the temple to Zeus over which it was built and from which many of the Corinthian columns had been taken that now adorn the spacious courtyard. But as much as I enjoyed Damascus and the Syrians, I was glad to get back to Lebanon and her people. It remains Baalbek to which Fred drove us – not withstanding that a lorry had collided with us earlier as we attempted to navigate the fierce traffic out of Beirut – that carried most strongly the pure magic and quiet affirmation that I feel for pagan and classical religion. Magnificent are the Temple to Zeus, the so-called 'Temple of Bacchus' (probably to Venus) and the so-called 'Temple of Venus' (probably to Fortuna) – the first one of the largest in the world; the second one of the best preserved.
I learned while here in Lebanon that Margot's husband, John Gliedman, passed away on the second of February. I remain grateful for the week he and Margot visited us in Amsterdam with their son Alex just before John was diagnosed. He was a warm and lovely man who possessed a relaxed and lively awareness with which one felt immediately comfortable. My wishes remain with Margot and Alex in the loss of husband-father-friend and the full joyful integrity of their family unit.
Our world is enormous and fascinating yet full of sadnesses and losses. The country of Lebanon illustrates this ambiguity as well as anywhere – if not even more so. She lies on the sparkling Mediterranean with normally snow-covered mountain ranges (though not this year) hemming her in and separating her from the world beyond. There is a relative prosperity though also widespread urban sprawl and the accompanying blight that can come with it. With the constant reminders of Phoenician, Persian, Hellenistic, Roman, Seljuk, Mamlak, Crusader and Ottoman presences among others, the country is a deadly patchwork of Maronite, Orthodox, Greek Catholic, Armenian, Druze, Sunni and Shi'a communities among others. Beirut alone is probably the most diverse city within the Middle East. And yet, despite the most complicated factionalism and all but hidden internal strife (as Tareq's political graffiti art presentation re-affirmed), the Lebanese people come across as remarkably gentle, warm and friendly and certainly spirited. This is a place that I expect I will need to return to sometime again in the future. And for the present, there is definitely a regret in leaving – though it will also be nice to be back at home or homes.
And on our final full day, Fred and Vicky drove us to the Cedar Forest in the Qadicha Valley. We lifted up above and beyond the urban turmoil of the Lebanese coast and into something alpine and snowy and with spectacular vistas – reminiscent of the Midi. And in the forest itself, I was able to re-remember and reconnect with the serenity of deep, all-embracing stillness. This, among everything, was the sacred highpoint.