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From Damascus, we arrive by taxi ( US each). Immediate reverse culture shock; much more ‘Western’ than I expected. Also immediately apparent is how the civil war left its mark on every part of the city: pock-marked facades and burnt-out buildings as tall as 20 stories high. Some buildings are so badly damaged they should be vacant but the laundry flapping in the breeze on what's left of the balconies reveal their inhabitants. We managed to find our Hotel, The Valerie, and haggled down to US for a triple. The bathroom’s not great but better than the one downstairs. (3 hotels in one building, one per floor). Ventured out to find some grub. The rest of the city is a sort of cr
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Also immediately apparent is how the civil war left its mark on every part of the city: pock-marked facades and burnt-out buildings as tall as 20 stories high. Some buildings are so badly damaged they should be vacant but the laundry flapping in the breeze on what's left of the balconies reveal their inhabitants.
We managed to find our Hotel, The Valerie, and haggled down to US for a triple. The bathroom’s not great but better than the one downstairs. (3 hotels in one building, one per floor). Ventured out to find some grub.
The rest of the city is a sort of cross between New Orleans and San Diego with Parisienne architecture and seaside glitz. Inline skaters glide by the yacht club on the palm-lined Mediterranean boardwalk. Young people in the throws of a Big-Mac-Attack pull up to McValet parking in their Mercedes. Everyone under 30 has been issued at least one cell phone. And there's enough French and English spoken to guarantee we won't learn another Arabic word here.
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The closest we got to war in Lebanon was at Tyre – (10K from Israeli controlled area). Not sure it’s safe to get that close to the occupied area, we asked the only Lebanese we knew: our travel-buddy’s cousin. He assured us it was safe. The sun warms us as we relax in the Roman hippodrome’s stands — the largest in the world—and we hear what sounds like 3 bombs in the distance. It suddenly occurs to me how foolish we were to rely on the advice of a fifteen-year-old city boy! Minutes later jets fly overhead; too high to see. Seconds later, a burst of noise so loud it leaves us breathless; Anti-aircraft fire from an army base only 200m away. Another burst. Another. Our hearts start beating again and we see white puffs where the shells are exploding in the sky – nowhere near the aircraft. A PA announcement says there was some sort of bombing but no casualties. Our country’s travel advisories often seem overly-cautious but this heart-stopping event made me think twice about only heeding the advice of people who’ve grown up in war; they may not have the same ‘safety’ threshold as us.
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