The Detouring Doctor

My hurried exit from Lebanon stands in stark contrast to the almost western modernity of Jordan. This small country is almost completely landlocked and a haven of political stability in a veritable sea of chaos. I have rented a car here and while the traffic is a bit disorganised it is nothing compared to the rest of this region and Lebanon is a prime example. As I drive north of Jordan the situation is underlined by road signs. Two in succession point to exits and say “Iraq border” and Saudi border”” respectively. Further north a sign says “Syria border”. No doubt tomorrow when I am driving south there will be signs “Israel border”.

I have an all too short 4 days here and my prime objective is of course one of the 7 wonders of the world, Petra. I have dreamed about seeing Petra since I first started travelling some 40 years ago. More recently the rest of the world “discovered” Petra after Indiana  Jones holy grail movie and now it receives thousands of tourists every day.

First, though I drive 1 hour north of the capitol of Amman to Jerash. Jerash is one of the best preserved complete Roman cities in the world. It is a huge site that was, under the emperor Hadrian, for a short time the capitol of the Roman empire. Apart from the amazing state of preservation what strikes me most about this site is that as you walk along the long main colonnaded street, the cardo, you actually feel as though you are walking through a town. There are gateways, cobble stoned roads with grooves made by chariot wheels still evident, the hippodrome for chariot races, 2 theatres for arts, central water fountains to supply the town’s needs.

 

Jordan is, of course, not without its share of biblical sites bordering down south with Israel and Palestine. As this has been effectively a war zone for most of the 20^th century there has been little done in the way of exploration here. In 1996 along the Jordan River archaeologists identified the site where John the Baptist baptised Jesus. The discovery has since been ratified by historians and church authorities and the area which is militarily sensitive as the Jordan River is the border  between Jordan and Palestine has been opened up to tourism. Arriving at the site I am unimpressed by the Jordan which looks more like a swampy, muddy puddle but deeply moved by the history of the actual baptism site. This has become a “pilgrimage” site for Christian tourists who come in groups, dress in white robes and immerse themselves in the unappealing muddy water singing hymns.

 

From there it is a long but beautiful drive along the Dead Sea which, at 430 metres below sea level is the lowest point on earth. It is warmer and more stifling down here but the sea is beautiful and there is not another car on the road. It is a popular pastime to do into the water and float in this super salty water where buoyancy is maximised but I have no time for that. I complete the day with a steep walk up a hill to see the cave where the old testament’s Lot sheltered after fleeing Sodom and Gomorrah. The history here is truly mind blowing!

I am sitting in one of the few open restaurants for lunch sipping on a magnificent Lebanese red. This is my last day in Lebanon and I fly out at lunch time tomorrow. The What’s App flashes me a message from my driver for the 3 days sightseeing. “There are some rumours about closing the airport road from all sides with huge sand and rock hills”. Today the protests have turned ugly and I trust Mohammed implicitly. He has nothing to gain by warning me. A flurry of interchanges ensues and I scoff the rest of the wine and go back to pack up. I am packed and ready in 20 minutes. Mohammed drives the backways trying to avoid both the protesters and the army roadblocks. We pass by the outskirts of town and look down at heaving mass of humanity, 1000s of protesters filling city streets. The friendly protesters at road blocks from yesterday have turned nasty and I see them threaten and intimidate drivers along the way. We are spared. Mohammed has organised the closest hotel to the airport some 3 km away and should be just beyond any attempted blockade. I could easily walk that with my pack in the morning if need be. May Allah bless Mohammed!

The morning started uneventfully enough. There were more cars on streets and more shops open. The billows of smoke from the fires on the roads yesterday were also gone so I assumed that things had settled. I planned to revisit our Lady of Lebanon about half an hour away to light a candle for Nana, Suzanne’s mum. She was always one for lighting candles in churches as a prayer for anyone who was sick. The Uber driver spoke almost no English but as we are detoured off the motorway by an army blockade he drops a bombshell that all roads into and out of Beirut would be closed by the army in half an hour leaving me stranded out of town. I am out on the streets in a shot and hightail it into town. Today absolutely everything is closed there are more soldiers with riot gear and a large protest group marches past me. I take a couple of pictures downtown and Uber back to my accommodation.

This is all new to me. In 40 years of travel, I have come close to being bombed in Peru, I have been interrogated by twitchy Zambian police but never watched a possible revolution unfold in front of me. While it makes for a ripping yarn I will be glad to be leaving tomorrow for the safety of neighbouring Jordan!

My only 2 images taken in downtown Beirut on the last day.

I hit the road at 9:30 at the normally chaotic street is eerily deserted. Almost all the shops of this busy shopping and night club strip are shuttered up. I am off to try and get a recharge on my SIM but the shop up the road is also closed. It’s Friday and this is a predominantly Muslim country so that must be it. I figure the city mall 3km away will be open for business and catch an Uber. We are a few minutes along on a main road and cars up ahead are all stopped. My driver curses and I suspect a traffic accident has blocked things but no the road is barricaded by protesters have lit fires in the road to prevent traffic from passing. The driver who had little English says protests and we weave madly through little alleys dodging repeated closures. Our 5 minute trip took 15 minutes.

The mall is also like a ghost town and there is almost nothing open. No recharge for my SIM. I opt for the city centre store where I bought the card from and had another crazy Uber ride but that driver was very reassuring that the protesters are antigovernment, protesting corruption and mean no ordinary civilians any harm. Once again shop closed so I decide to go for a wander. A block up and a protest march with hundreds of people waving flags and chanting curves in front of me.

Just then I see a smashed in phone box and another one.

I follow at a distance for a few blocks but decide to part company with these guys when riot police in jeeps and small APCs (tanks) turn up.

Neither side cares about a casual bystander like me but I don’t want to be around if the army and police get twitchy and start shooting.

At this stage I am well into the southern suburbs of Beirut and I locate the famous green line are which demarcated Beirut into Christian and Muslim warring neighbourhoods in the 1970s. If you look for it lots of buildings are still scarred and pockmarked from machine gun fire.

The most enduring remnant of that futile conflict is the shell of the Holiday Inn.

Sitting partway up a hill and stretching many stories up this became a strategic point from which, on the top floors militiamen could shoot down at their enemies. This was also in a prime position with other luxury hotels all around. For almost 2 years this Battle of the Hotels raged in the neighbourhood. All that is left now is the concrete shell of this high rise, a ghostly repository of a bloody past.

I turn onto the Corniche and walk along the upmarket seaside promenade for an hour.

I am heading for the Raouche Rocks which is a miniature of our Twelve Apostles.

On the way is another road block with tyres burning and a barrier of tied together Lebanese flags. As I approach police sirens come up behind me and 4 massive vans come to the barrier. Police jump out and disperse as much as they can, I cautiously hold back. When they have passed through the fires and barriers are replaced. As I approach one of the protesters smiles and pulls the barrier up to let me pass.

I get to the rocks and have lunch there just metres from the flaming barrier. My Uber driver back to my apartment was a lot more anxious than the rest. I jumped in, he insisted on the front seat for security reasons. What followed was an insanely dangerous high speed hike through the streets of Beirut ignoring red lights, weaving and cutting in front of what little traffic there was around. He found the tiniest gaps between bins of fire and weaved around all obstacles. I was relieved to get out in one piece. All for the princely Uber fee of $7 sure beats going to theme parks to get an adrenaline rush!

The final day with my driver neatly encapsulates the variety that is Lebanon. A casual glance through my picures on this post and you could be in Italy, England, Greece, Spain or the Middle East. There is Christian and Muslim. This troubled country really is a melting pot. It’s another sunny 30 degree day as we follow the coastal highway south. The beautiful azure Mediterranean Sea is to my right and mountains to the left.

Sidon is 1 hour south of downtown Beirut and the feature here is yet another 11t h century crusader castle. This one is the most photogenic of them all situated on a small island just offshore which is now linnked by a causeway. So strategically effective was it that when the Muslims drove the crusaders out of here they destroyed as much of it as possible to prevent them from reoccupying the site.

Souks of Sidon

A further hour south is Tyre which is the last major city here before the disputed border with Israel. This remains a Hezbollah stronghold but you wouldn’t know it walking the streets. The star attraction here is the Roman hippodrome dating back to the 2^nd century AD. Its dimensions are 90 metres wide and 480 metres long this vast stadium could seat 40,000 people. Primarily a stadium for chariot races other sporting contests are likely to have occurred here too. It is surreal sitting atop a marble Roman grandstand imagining what it must have been like. I guess Boxing Day at the MCG will never be quite the same for me!

A wander through the harbour and the Christian quarter is vaguely evocative of the Greek islands. All around are brightly painted apartments and it is a pleasure to wander through the narrow alleyways down to the Al Mina Roman ruins. Built in the 3^rd century AD these evocative columns are perched down by the seaside. They lead down to a now submerged harbour. Wandering around there is some superb mosaic tiling on the ground. Amazingly and disappointingly these almost 2 millenia relics are not cordoned off and ignorant tourists trample on them.

On the way home Mohammed takes us back up over the hills behind Beirut. The mountains were always a Christian stronghold and there is once again a homely, comfortable European feel to the towns here. The hillsides are heavily forested with pine trees and there weather is decidedly cooler. We arrive at Beit Eddine  Palace. Completed in 1840, one could be in southern Spain wandering around this beautiful structure. In the summer it hosts a festival to showcase the best of Lebanese arts.

Day 2 with my driver Mohammed turns out to be my favourite. We are heading inland into the mountains through the Bekaa Valley. My first stop is a morning wine tasting at Chateau Ksara. The winery is modern and efficient and the wines are smart and very cheap by western standards.

The centre piece of the day and arguably in Lebanon is Baalbek home to the best preserved Roman temples in the world. Our visit there starts with the modern built Muslim sacred site the mausoleum shrine of Sayyida Khawala, the great granddaughter of the prophet Mahomed. She is buried here and legend has it that a dead stick was placed in the ground beside her tomb. That has come to life and is a massive tree that the building wraps around. The actual mausoleum is garishly decorated but pretty in a kitsch way.

What disturbed me were the mortar shells all around refashioned with a slot to become a donation box for the terrorist group Hezbollah. A large room behind the mausoleum is similarly appointed to look like a religious shrine but it is packed with artillery, machine guns missile launchers and a big yellow Hezbollah flag. The middle of the room has a pretty little fountain which runs with red coloured water to symbolise the blood of those fighters who have lost their life in war against Israelis. The military propaganda in a supposedly holy place grates with me and, dare I say it it’s a stark complex to the serene peaceful environment around Our Lady of Lebanon statue yesterday.

 

The Roman ruins here surpass all expectations. They are a massive complex of a number of different temples . They date back to the first century AD and are astonishing in how much remains intact. Enjoy the pictures.

Temple of Jupiter

 

Temple of Bacchus

Temple of Venus

The afternoon concludes with a drive deep in the eastern Lebanese mountains to see Lebanon’s national symbol. So what does the title of this entry refer to? Have a look.

The ancients knew modern day Lebanon by the seductive name, Phoenicia. The Phoenicians were a great ancient trading nation combining seafaring ability with great natural produce predominantly purple dye, cloth, cedar wood and wine. Of these the oldest continually inhabited city of Byblos which was first settled in 7000 BC is one of the most important.

I arrive there early morning. The first stop today is a visit to the Jeita Grottos which has to count as one of the most spectacular caves I have ever visited. Sadly and inexplicably there is no photography allowed therein. The Byblos harbour, renowned in history is more like a tiny marina. I try to imagine in my mind’s eye the Phoenician ships moored here rather than the modern day fishing vessels.

The Byblos castle dates from the 12^th century AD and is what remains one of the many Crusader Castles here. Entering one is transported to the big chunky Anglo Saxon castles dotted around England. All around the footings of the castle are Roman ruins with a particularly beautiful column set on site. A wander through the old town and the local souk completes the visit.

From Byblos it is up to Tripoli, Lebanon’s second city. It is a sprawling complex straddling the hills and the sea. It is clearly much poorer than anywhere else in the country and most of it looks like slums. High atop the town is an 11^th century crusader castle that is largely intact. Its high strategic position commanding much of the city ensured its survival as it was used by successive rulers of this town over the centuries.

 

Guess what bobs up in Tripoli? Its the Orient express again. The Orient Express used to go beyond Istanbul down to the Syrian city of Homs. In the 1920s through to the second world war a single track line connected Homs with Tripoli. Heavily damaged during the civil war of the 1970s the station terminus and a couple of ancient German locomotives sit in ruins in an unmarked paddock. Ever so slowly the metal is being reclaimed by nature.

Sunset was at Jounieh up the gondola with magnificent views down the coast to Beirut. At the top there is a further climb to the statue of Our Lady of Lebanon. Think Christ the Redeemer in Rio but on a smaller scale. Unlike Rio this is set up with chapel, spiritual music and has a spiritual vibe to it. The sunset is ordinary and the mood here is so enticing I decide that I will come back again before I leave.

I am one of the first onto the Emirates flight from Dubai to Beirut. Lebanon is the replacement for the cancelled Iraqi trip and if one reads any of the official government foreign affairs websites, this is a highly dangerous place, a no go area. Sitting down and watching the passing parade of passengers I expect that the demographic on this flight will be swarthy, terrorist look alike males and heavily veil concealed Muslim females. Nothing could be further from the truth. A couple of grey haired elderly western women sit behind me. A 20 something woman in a revealing black outfit flits between empty seats. All around are the same varied demographic that would appear on any flights. Arriving in Beirut the immigration and customs formalities are just that and in the blink of an eye I am having to negotiate the rapacious third world taxi drivers demanding extortionate fares. I guess some things are universal. First impressions here are positive. This is  green leafy cosmopolitan city with an abundance of attractions going back before the time of Christ. The people are the same as would stroll down central Sydney or Melbourne. Veiled women are outnumbered by western women wearing low cut dresses  by a factor of 4:1. My initial perambulations here show no signs of conflict nor anything out of the ordinary. Then suddenly I am confronted by a barrier across the street I want to walk up. A young soldier carrying an AK 47 mans this barrier. Respectfully I ask permission to cross and he smiles broadly and motions me through. Further along there are more barriers and entire lengths of footpath covered with rolls of barbed wire. I get to a point where I am blasé and just wander through. No one seems to care. As a kid I grew up in the late 60s and 70s to ongoing news broadcasts about an interminable civil war in Lebanon. I challenge any of my other readers who grew up in those times to define the ongoing battles between the colourfully named Druze and Phalangist militias. I sure as hell had no idea what they represented but I was aware that modern day Lebanon, in biblical times the Phoenicians, had a celebrated role in civilisation. Having researched the history of this country since, I can’t help feeling sorry for these people. There is an all too familiar history of Christian Lebanese jostling for control with what initially was a Muslim minority. As the Muslim numbers grew colonial meddling by France to maintain a Christian ruling class fails spectacularly as does every other French adventures. Remember any one of a number of cot case West African nations. If not how about Indochina and in particular Vietnam! In the last 40 years the main destabilisation has come from over 100,000 displaced Palestinians who have set up bases in southern Lebanon and have rebadged themselves as Hamas and Hezbollah. Add in some Israeli retaliation and Syrian meddling and the DFAT warnings are placed in perspective.

“Unfortunately, today we are having to take the measure to cancel our Southern Iraq tour. As you might have followed on the news,  the situation in Iraq is increasingly serious. The protests started suddenly following the sacking of a General and were unpredictable two or three weeks ago (although the conflict has been brewing for years), it seems we are very unlucky with our dates this time.”

This is the email I received just over a week ago. On the way over here I was reading about demonstrations, riots and 66 dead in Iraq. The governments of Kuwait, Qatar and Bahrain had issued alerts for all of their citizens to leave Iraq due to deteriorating security. While I was shocked it wasn’t really a surprise.

After due deliberation I have decided on Lebanon as the alternative destination.

This is a truly beautiful city and very easy for tourists to travel around. I have been blessed with a bright, sunny day in the mid 20s and it is a delight to wander around. The morning starts with a cab ride to the 16th century Galata Tower built 400 years ago it has magnificent morning views across the Bosporus  to the heart of Istanbul.

Mosques dominate the city skyline which stretches to the Mediterranean in the distance. Late morning I lose Anthony and James as they are flying home and suddenly I am solo again. Setting a cracking pace, I see pretty much all that Istanbul has to offer.

The Grand bazaar in the heart of Istanbul is one of the largest covered markets in the world. Completed in 1730 it is a shopper’s dream with goods for both local and tourist tastes.

For me the spice market sends my senses reeling with intoxicating scents and a riot of colour.

The iconic Blue Mosque sadly is marred by restoration work. One of its minarets is covered in scaffolding and the insides are half covered up with renos. Sadly for me this is an oft repeated phenomenon in Istanbul and makes for challenging photography.

The Hagia Sofia was initially a Catholic Cathedral built by the Roman emperor Justinian for what was then Constantinople in 537 AD. It was famous for its massive dome, the largest of its time. Subsequently it was converted into a mosque by the Ottomans. Walking into this space, even with the renovations takes my breath away. This is a massive structure.

 

In the large parkland space between the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia there is the Egyptian Obelisk of Theodosius and the walled obelisk attributed to emperor Constantine V11 in the 10th century.

 

The Topkapi Palace sits behind the Hagia Sofia and is the final masterpiece in this amazing area. It was completed in the 1500s and was the residence of all of the Ottoman Sultans.

 

Below the Hagia Sofia is another tourist feature that delivers in spades and is also a popular setting for a variety of movies. The Basilica cistern  was built in the 5th century AD. Built by 7000 slaves this massive underground chamber is 9800 square metres in area and can hold 80000 cubic metres of water. It was built to provide water for the gardens above. It featured in a number of movies, most notably in James Bond’s “From Russia with Love” and Dan Brown’s Inferno where the medusa column bases formpart of the storyline.

 

Fisherman line the Galata bridge daily to fish the Bosphorous. Having walked over the bridge a number of times there never seems to be anything of significance in those buckets.

Views from the Galata Bridge

Suleyman Mosque

Finally, if there is a famous train involved I will invariably sniff it out. Of course the Orient express terminated in Istanbul and what is now Sirkeci station is where these 19th century adventurers “landed”.

A full moon rises over Asia as the sun sets. I am watching from Europe in what is the most European of Arabic cities, Istanbul. I am having an overpriced, by Turkish standards, fish dinner in the Galata bridge straddling the Bosporus. This is the nominated border between Europe and Asia and while I don’t see much that is Asian around here as with most borders, they have to draw the line somewhere.