Lebanon

Beitrut is a strange clash of cultures, it's East meets West with more West and none of the homogenity of Istanbul - Change comes back a mix of US dollars and Lebanese lira, conversations switch between Arabic and French, early 70s and late model mercedes clog the streets in equal proportions, and, of course, the community is deeply divided on socio/religious grounds. It feels somewhat confused.

Despite its history and still precarious state, Beruit feels safe enough to walk alone through the city streets in the early morning (one of the great things about middle eastern countries). It's home to the remains of countless pockmarked buildings cum bunkers, Quaint 50s european architecture, Hip little bars where sunglassed patrons down shots to the sounds of pulp and the velvet underground (no, its not me sitting alone in my hotel room), austentatious restaurants and clubs fortied by a ring of late model Porches and the odd lamborghini. A local advises that the famous nightlife is fueled by years of uncertainty, pending war and the resultant tendancy to live for the moment. That attitude, and perhaps new money pouring in results in a shallow surface exemplified by the prevalence of bling and plastic surgury ... the Maimi of the middle east. I was wondering where the resources originated until the ATM both short changed me and doled out a fake $50.

With no motorcycle rental to allow the hit and run I had planned for lebanon, I chanced my thumb ... the second lift was a 5min ride in a brown 70s mercedes in which time the driver managed to explain he was gay, ask if I had had sex in lebanon, enquire about the size of my johnson and if he could view the afore mention appendage, all before slipping his hand on my leg and simultaneously crashing his car. The busses and taxis were frequent and cheap.

Heading north I visited the spectacular Jaetta grotto before spending a night in Byblos - a historic and quaint port that mercifully breaks the seam of grey high rises clinging to the coast. Keen to keep away from souless hotels in such a beautiful setting, I slept on boat of a local who woke up drunk after spending the night slurring in fractured english about his love for his estranged Russian wife and daughter. After a quick visit to Bcharre - perched atop the steep and deep quaida valley and below the bare lebanon ranges it was time to head to Israel via Beirut, Damascus and Jordan.

(Oh, an addend for those that read my Syria post: In an effort to rid the country of the traditional veil Attaturk issued an edict requiring prostitutes to wear them ... genius!)