Snow falling on cedars

On a short winter holiday, Amira El-Noshokaty visited Lebanon and the ancient "City of Wells"
Faced with the unexpected delight of a six-day break over the Eid holiday, we dipped into the travel cookie jar to choose a nearby destination and a package holiday within our budget. At six nights for LE2,200 per person bed and breakfast in a double room in a four-star hotel in Beirut's Al-Hamra district sounded just right. It was in the city centre and the price included the plane fare -- a generous offer from EgyptAir. Moreover, the flight from Cairo took only 45 minutes, which is less time than it takes to fly to Sharm El-Sheikh. We could hardly resist.
This was my first trip to Beirut, the "Ancient Phoenician City of Wells" (bir in Arabic) lying on the coast of the eastern Mediterranean. We flew in over the shore which gave us a welcoming glimpse of Lebanon, but on the ground and outside the airport it was cold and raining. It went on to rain and thunder for the first two days, but we were breathing clean and unpolluted air, a refreshing change from Cairo.
Our group of eight split; some went to hotel rooms, others were guests of Lebanese relatives. Since we were all Muslims we reassembled in the late afternoon before Iftar.
The narrow streets of Beirut offer views of the sea. The air reminded me of a wintry Alexandria, and the cleanliness of the streets and buildings was remarkable. There is something about this city that suggests that long- lost sense of occasion. On our visit the streets and bridges were decorated with crescent- shaped balloons to celebrate Ramadan, thousands of fairy lights for the New Year and statuettes of Santa Claus loaded with Christmas presents hanging from balconies. Every small act was performed with style and a smile, yet the air of festivity never faded. This is a place where appearances matter and little things count. Whatever you buy, wherever you go, people are enjoying themselves and living the moment: no frowns. Yet these are a people who have had more than their share of agony and loss.
Signs of the war are everywhere. Buildings not yet rebuilt disturb the beauty of the city. Aging houses with bullet holes in those walls which survived the bombing make your heart ache. As we strolled through the city, we passed a small marble sign standing next to a modern building. "This is where the resistance forces first started," said the sign, beginning its own epic tale. There was even a square sporting the name of Gamal Abdel-Nasser.
The contrast between the ruins and the central Beirut buildings, rebuilt exactly like their pre-war image, echoed the words of Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran.
"To be a garden without walls, a vineyard without a guardian,
A treasure house forever open to passeby;
To be robbed, cheated, deceived, ay, misled and trapped
And then mocked, yet with it all to look down
From the height of your larger self and smile."
Driving away from Sahet Al-Shohada (Martyrs' Square), we spotted a restaurant overlooking the sea. Fifteen minutes later we heard the sunset call to prayer, and I was surprised to learn that, unlike Sunni Moslems who eat as soon as the sun sets, members of the Shi'aa sect wait until the sun has vanished from the horizon. So, to please everyone, two sunset prayers are broadcast during the holy month of Ramadan. Then and only then did I feel that sharp edge that, religiously speaking, still bisects Lebanese society.
For the second successive day the weather was stormy. The cold and rain kept us indoors all day and we went out only at night. We bought mannaish and zaatar pies, walking with them along the sea front by the famous Rawsha rock, huddling under umbrellas.
The following morning we rented a car and drove up to Bakhqoun via the mountains. The trip took about three hours of driving along narrow roads coiling round giant green hills. We passed millions of green trees with no room for growth except in precarious creeks where streams gushed down to the valleys.
People, too, were living on the edge. Three-storey buildings were perched on the mountain sills, alongside churches, which must make praying a more than spiritual experience. As if on cue, the sky cleared to reveal the biggest rainbow imaginable, which arched magically over the road from side to side.
On our way to Bakhqoun we drove through Tripoli. This is the capital of the north and Lebanon's second largest city, lying 85 kilometres north of Beirut. Many of its buildings date from the 14th century -- mosques from Mameluke and Ottoman periods have survived, along with their attached religious schools. Tripoli is famous for its souq area, boasting an ancient khan (rest and storehouse) for each of the trades: tailors, jewellers, perfumers, tanners and soap makers and so on.
In Bakhqoun we spent the evening beside a large stone fireplace, drinking coffee and green tea boiled on charcoal. The mountains were more serene by night. They were speckled with glittering lights, while millions of stars were scattered above the formless horizon. It was cold yet beautiful, the night before the Eid.
People still adhere to traditional customs. In the morning the Muslim men and boys, wearing their best suits, would go to the mosque for morning prayers and afterwards pay visits to neighbours. The women, on the other hand, would stay at home to receive guests and offer them cakes, sweets and nuts, as well as money for the small children dressed in their fine new clothes.
We left Bakhqoun to climb 3,000 feet and watch the snow falling on the cedar trees. And here -- yes -- I walked above the clouds. It felt like walking through candyfloss, only sweeter: we were literally on top of the world. Here, at more than 1,800 metres above sea level, we saw the symbol on Lebanon's national flag. The cedars capped the mountain, dressed in snow. Cedars a thousand years old. I was face to face with snow for the first time in my life, and finding myself among such symbols was a moving experience.
On our drive down we passed through several villages, including the birthplace of Khalil Gibran. Slowly we drove, racing the sunset. When the sun left our horizon its place was taken by the Christmas decorations which sparkled through the night, the golden beams framing the small houses and Santa Clauses and Christmas trees all glowing on the walls all the way to Beirut.
Our final stop for the day was at the coastal town of Byblos, or Jbeil in Arabic. Byblos, 37 kilometres north of Beirut, is a top contender for "the oldest continuously inhabited city" award. According to Phoenician tradition it was founded by the god El, and even the Phoenicians considered it a city of great antiquity. Although its beginning is lost in time, modern scholars say that the site of Byblos goes back at least 7,000 years.
Before it was called Byblos, it was known as Gubla, a term applied to the coast in general. After 1200BC the Greeks gave it the name Phoenicia, referring to the coastal area. And they called the city Byblos, "papyrus" in Greek, as this commercial centre was an important point in the papyrus trade.
We parked and walked through the gates that beheld the birth-place of the Phoenician alphabet; we passed through the narrow streets and allowed layers and layers of history to unfold. We stopped at the old market place that still stood with its small crowded shops, crammed together as in many another souq.
We dined at a fish restaurant overlooking the old port and the 13th century Crusader castle. A dark, red-brick wall with a large fireplace was at the centre of the dining room, and candles lit our rectangular wooden table. Beside us were huge wooden shelves bearing giant pottery bowls. It echoed many lives that may have feasted or fought for their lives at this very place.
We made a simple plan for the next morning: we would visit the Jeita grotto, and then shop for the rest of the day. It was only a 20-minute drive from Beirut to the tèlèferique (cable car) which carries visitors to the dry part of the cave. Jeita grotto was just out of this world. Millions of years of water erosion has moulded and calcified the alchemic mixture of sand, rock and clay, freezing the scene forever. There you let your imagination run free, allowing the hundreds of shapes to trigger your fantasies, from statues that look like Buddha to old women praying. When we reached the end of the staircase, we studied the shapes bathed in the limelight and swore they looked exactly like people at a church wedding.
Water still found its way through the lower part of the cave. We crossed the small pool by boat, sailing through pre- history, the history of the world.
Shopping did not go as planned, as most of the shops were closed for the Eid vacation. We also spent a lot of money on the little we bought -- one should not come to Lebanon without a pocketful of dollars.
That evening, we had dinner downtown, which the Lebanese have rebuilt exactly as it was. This is a pedestrian area, with cafés dotted along the street. The beautiful old buildings have a distinctly French touch, and I was told that apartments there rented for very high prices.
I was hampered by shortage of time and inclement weather, and thus probably missed many of the things I should have seen. But who cares? I saw a rainbow, l walked on the clouds and I touched snow for the very first time.
Things to see
In Beirut:
St George's Cathedral, built by Mgr Joseph Debs. Work began in 1884, and the edifice was consecrated on Palm Sunday in 1894. It is built like a basilica, with the nave and two lateral aisles separated in two parts.
The National Museum, exhibiting 6,000 years of civilisation and heritage
Outside Beirut:
Beiteddine Palace.
Baalbeck, the city of the god Baal, identified by the Greeks with the sun god. They called the city Heliopolis, or the city of the sun.
Sidon, the largest city in south Lebanon, a commercial centre known since Persian times as the city of gardens, and even today surrounded by citrus and banana plantations.
Eshmoun, with its Phoenician temple dedicated to the healing god of the same name, lies less than an hour from Beirut on a site known locally as Bustan El-Sheikh. It overlooks a valley of citrus trees on the Awwali River.
Aanjar, an Umayyad site.
Tyre, the ancient metropolis of Phoenicia
For more details, go to:
www.lebanon-tourism.gov.lb
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