Saturday 12^th June

So today was about doing our own thing and getting to grips with what might be the real Lebanon and Beirut.

Firstly I would like to reproduce a paragraph from the Lonely Planet guide.

“ For some it is a city of fear; for others, freedom. Throw in maniacal drivers, air pollution from old, smoking Mercedes taxis, world class universities, bars to rival Soho and coffee thicker than mud, political demonstrations, and swimming pools awash with more silicone than Miami. Add people so friendly you’ll swear it can’t be true, a political situation existing on a knife-edge, internationally renowned museums and gallery openings that continue in the face of explosions, assassinations and power cuts, and you’ll find you’ve never experienced a capital city quite so alive and kicking – despite its frequent volatility.”

Trevor and Lesley teamed up with Rupert and Kirsten from ‘Rumpus’ (NZ) who had hired a car, but their day started late as the car was not made available to them until midday after which they roamed far and wide (the entire country only measures 100 miles by 50 miles max) encountering all sorts of sights and sounds including probably a mistaken visit to a Hezbollah stronghold in the south! They also watched the first half of the England world cup football match in a bar somewhere up in the hills before returning quite late to Serafina.

Sarah and I headed for the big city and after failing to find the bus we wanted, entered negotiations with a couple of taxi drivers about a ride into Beirut. These discussions always involve the driver climbing out his battered car and taking me into a shop or bar to find someone who spoke Arabic and French (more common than English here) then I would employ my finest schoolboy French to secure finally a good deal which had us climbing into this very dilapidated small saloon car and with dramatic u turn across the streaming traffic, we were launched into the astonishing melee that is the Beirut traffic system. The only time I think that I have been more frightened by a car journey was on the return trip, more of which later!!

The ‘highway’ to the city has in places four lanes carefully marked out with white lines, but never ever have they been of less value. Our carriageway of the dual track road rarely had less than 5 lanes of vehicles and the concept of overtaking and undertaking is meaningless as the road is simply there for everyone to use as they see fit. This frighteningly seems to include scooters, motor bikes and even the odd car coming the wrong way. Taxis have special powers here, in as much as they are defined as all being ordinary and frequently elderly saloons of little value, whilst ALL other cars are huge SUV’s, 90% of which are black with black tinted windows. As all these vehicles merge and weave at speed the taxis are the ones that hold their nerve the longest and amidst a cacophony of blaring horns we hurtled into the city. It began to become quite apparent as we entered Beirut that the taxi drivers believe that a good toot on their horn bestows 10 to 15 seconds of a shield of invincibility on their car, hence as they approach blind corners and junctions, a good blast allows them to continue at speed with the manoeuvre. Our driver was rather confused by our tourist map and had to stop several times to ask various people if they could help but eventually we arrived at our destination where he was unable to change our 50 dollar note. Unfazed though he simply approached some nearby security guards and after an excited conversation they all rooted around in their wallets and he returned to give us the correct change! Currency is a little flexible here and generally they use Lebanese pounds, dollars and euros. Payments and change are usually given in a complicated mixture of all three which needs careful watching and a calculator would be handy.

We set off on foot and duly arrived at the Hard Rock cafe where we purchased some of their unique Beirut branch T-shirts, before taking another short taxi ride to the downtown area. We had by now made several more discoveries about Beirut. This is a city of cars and we were the only pedestrians. People might wander out of buildings, but only to get into their cars and drive off and secondly you do not hail taxis here – they hail you! As the only pedestrians, we were considered fair game by every taxi driver regardless of which direction they were travelling.  It does become tedious as they hoot at you, slowing down to speak, constantly seeking your custom. However this did prove to be useful when trying to cross busy roads with 4 or more lanes of speeding cars, since as you stepped up to the kerb looking for a gap, hordes of taxis would stand on their brakes causing instant chaos around them, at which point you can scamper across the road.  Actually all the drivers generally seem to be very mindful of the odd pedestrian and in return for a complete absence of traffic controls such as lights etc, they seem prepared to slow up as you walk across in front of them and do not blast their horns or get stroppy. (mind you, many are talking on the phone and may not have seen you...)

We were slightly lead astray by the usually totally dependable Lonely Planet guide (standard fare for all yachties travelling) and the ‘interesting areas to walk in’ proved pretty dire or yet more building sites.   The city is one huge building site but some major projects have been finished producing a very sympathetic mix of very modern buildings, and restorations – all in the lovely yellow sandstone typical of the area with beautiful views.

We finally found the shopping mall that Sarah had been seeking and we spent a happy hour or two visiting some very exotic shops before we met up with Haaken and Ellen from ‘Ko Ko’ for a leisurely late lunch. After the lunch, Ellen and Sarah continued to shop whilst Haaken and I remained to discuss life over a few cold beers. The World Cup Football is big over here and you cannot move for wide screens and everywhere they fly the flags of the participating countries, but since they have no direct interest it is all very relaxed and enjoyable.

Around 6.00 pm Sarah and Ellen returned carrying mercifully few bags (Ellen did try to explain to me that ‘few’ did not necessarily mean I had got off cheaply.)  and we entered negotiations again with a taxi rank and ended up back in the giant pinball machine that is the local traffic system. Our new driver obviously had something more pressing to do than deliver us to the marina, so we flew along as he kept one hand out of the window firmly holding onto the roof of the car and using the other hand to steer, change gear, hoot and deliver insults. At one stage we were ordered to stop by a soldier brandishing an automatic weapon, but this was because we were in the wrong slip lane and he merely wished to see us and the car behind, returned into the fast flowing traffic without getting killed in front of his guard post. It is quite surprising how quickly you become used to the constant presence absolutely everywhere of these heavily armed soldiers and by and large I find them reassuring rather than threatening, which is the whole point I suppose.

Once back in the marina all four of us went to Serafina for a nerve-soothing glass of G & T and Haaken and Ellen cooed over Serafina as they had had an identical Najad 46 before upgrading last year to their new Najad 57. As soon as they left we were invaded by the Aussies on ‘Koza’  moored alongside, as we had been promising them a viewing of Serafina all through the rally and now was deemed the right moment as two of them were flying home in the morning. Several bottles of wine and a few rum and oranges (and rum and ginger beers) later it was 1.30 am and T & L had also returned from their adventures so we all called it a night, but not before T & L told us about their driving experiences, topped by the Aussies who had been hit by a car travelling on the wrong side of the road – and which had failed to stop to discuss the incident with them.   Lesley had also found a very large gold ring (which does not fit any of us, not even thumbs...) in the rubble at the top of a mountain and since there wasn’t much point in taking it to the police station she has quite an unusual memento of Lebanon.