sick and tired in lebanon

This post is actually NOT about the current situation in Lebanon. I thought everyone could use a break, so I'm summarizing my travels outside of Beirut. The titular "sick and tired" is literal; I spent most of these four days under the weather. As result, this was not one of my more enjoyable vacations. Nonetheless, there were still some good sites and stories.

Day 1: Beittedine and the Adonis Valley

Beittedine is an 18th (?) century castle built by a local Ottoman ruler and his Italian architects. It's up in the mountains SE of Beirut. Some nice ornamentation, an impressive museum of Roman mosaics, and a great garden for views and picnics. I munched on fruit from the organic farmers' market in Beirut.

Nausea level: low, except for the beginning of the day, when I tried to catch a service taxi from the chaotic "Cola" bus terminal. There are few things more frustrating than knowing you're being deliberately decieved by unscrupulous cab drivers. I delivered an impressive arabic tirade then figured, "screw it, can't hurt" and dissolved into tears. A local came to my rescue, offering consolation, a slushie, and assistance finding a bus. I felt all of about 6 years old, but made it to my destination with all but dignity intact.

Day 2: Tarablus (Tripoli)

A Northern port city (well, until yesterday; there's no longer any port) with a crusader castle (still intact, as far as I know) and winding souqs, filled with medieval khans (travelers' inns), madrassas (Qur'anic schools), and mosques. Apparently things get more traditional when you get out of Beirut. My measure? Chickens are bought still squawking.

Nausea level: moderate to high. I spent the afternoon swimming and sunbathing on a rocky island of the Tripolitan coast. Lovely Mediterranean frolicking, but too much time in the sun waiting for the boat back. Got to the Palace Hotel (appropriately named--see photo) and collapsed for about 6 hours. Dragged self out of bed and into lobby to watch World Cup final. At halftime, begged travel companion to bring drugs, since I couldn't keep water down. Those knocked me into a coma and I was only able to prop my eyelids open to watch the penalty kicks. When Italy wone, mine was the quietest joy ever witnessed, but it was joy, nonetheless.

Day 3: Qadisha Valley, Bcharre, The Ceders

The road out of Tripoli rapidly climbs into the Mt. Lebanon range, home to precariously perched red-roofed villages. It wasn't quite the Alpine wonderland I was hoping for, but the views were great. The Cedars are Lebanon's national tree and were the backbone of the Phoenecian trading empire. There are only a few stands left in the country. This one is very peaceful and meticulously preserved; it's probably the one place in Lebanon you can't smoke. This is also Khalil Gibran country.

Nausea level: moderate. Although I woke up much improved, I promptly cancelled that out by going up to altitude. Hiking plans were tabled and, instead of hitching across the (next) mountain range, I caught an outrageously expensive taxi. The perk was a very sweet grandfatherly driver who took this photo of me--after carving steps out of the slick snow--and bought me an ice cream during the descent.

Day 4: Bekaa Valley: Baalkek, Zahle, and the Caves de Ksara

This area is the Imperial Valley of Lebanon: agricultural, Mediterranean climate, and dotted with villages. The big distinction is that it's also endowed with some of the world's most impressive and intact Roman ruins. My hotel had a sunset view of them. Zahle is a pleasant hilly resort town, packed with "riverside" restaurants that are threatening to choke out the already heavily-canalized local stream.

Nausea level: moderate. Pulled myself together for a morning at the ruins, then napped in a public garden in Zahle--after the elderly groundskeeper brought me a freshly cut bouquet. Oddly, a trip to the Ksara Caves for wine tasting left me feeling a bit better. The wine was mediocre, so maybe it was the naturally cool caves; they've been used to store wine since Roman times.