We were still drunk when the alarm went off and we got out of bed, stumbling around in the shower and then in the room trying to pack. We said our goodbyes to MJ after deliberating about whether to wake them up or not and went to wait outside in the hope that our new friend had remembered our arrangement. We rolled into the same Arabic pizza place where we had stuffed our faces the night before and this time left with some freshly cooked pizzas to sit near our hotel and wait for our ride.
He came! We were overjoyed and tomato juice dribbling down our chins we followed him to his car and made our way out of town. The guy was so nice, not only had he dropped us off the night before and picked us up this morning, he had also bought us breakfast. A traditional filled sesame seed bap, we weren't sure what the filling was – it was sweet and had the texture of ground coconuts and soft cheese. It was delicious but we were stuffed from our pizzas and so kept it to eat later. The road wound up and own around mountains – it wasn't that long before we arrived at Jeita Grotto and we thanked our new friend and driver, unfortunately we either didn't catch or didn't remember his name from the previous night (which we kicked ourselves for). He drove onto his work and sat, still drunk and waited for the place to open, we got our tickets and waited near the little cable cars trying to avoid all the wasps.
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| From Jeita and Byblos, Lebanon |
The grotto was amazing, Djalma was expecting to be chauffeured round in a boat and I have to say I was quite disappointed when we were greeted by a concrete pavement to follow. We left everything in little lockers outside and wandered round in the cold wet cave, we weren't allowed to take photos not because flashes would damage the stones, but because it was to keep the grottos secret – rubbish. It was blissfully cool in the caves and we walked along the path marvelling at the different shapes, some of them rising from the ground like monstrous lumpy dildos and others like permanent icicles. It was beautifully lit and until we were half way through and joined by a loud Lebanese family, peaceful, nothing but the dripping of cold water and our laughter audible. We reached the end and had to turn round and come back, the cave filling up with day trippers and families all of them noisy. Feeling the beginnings of our hangovers we left the cave and got some radioactive orange fizzy pop. Feeling slightly more fortified we waited in the little road train to be taken to the lower grotto where an electric powered boat waited to take us and several other people on a short tour round the cave. The shapes and formations were just incredible, sections of the wall looking like cross sections of a carrot garden.
Feeling properly hung over and absolutely knackered we left and went to wait by the exit/entrance to try and hitch a lift to the main road. We waited for what felt like ages but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes or so before and old dude with white professor hair stopped to pick us up. Thanking him and the Lord we put our bags in his boot, squeezed in next to his daughter who was holidaying with her Lebanese father and her uncle, and we were off. They dropped us off where the main road forked, he was going in one direction and he showed us where to get the bus from in the other. We decided to try our luck hitching and waggled our thumbs hoping that people there would understand. They did and a guy on his way to a meeting picked us up and dropped us part way. We were picked up within minutes by another guy, this one older and with stories about the war to tell. In the back and trying to keep awake I couldn't hear much of what he was saying as he talked to Djalma. The guy was lovely and told us about his new wife and family (the first wife died) and how he was waiting for a grandchild from his oldest and recently married son. He gave us some good advice 'If you believe in God – good. If you believe in rock – good. If you believe – good, you must believe and it will be good.' What a legend. He dropped us right in the heart of Byblos before carrying on out of the city.
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| From Jeita and Byblos, Lebanon |
Feeling pretty awful now we looked out for some sprite and finding none we headed through h souq street to the tourist office. We got some advice, ascertained that we really couldn't afford to stay there, left our bags and went exploring if you could call it that. We made our way to the beach where Djalma went for a dip and I tried to sleep on the too-low plastic chairs. We moved on, desperate to find a place to sleep and ended up back near the tourist office in a nice and relatively affordable restaurant with wifi. We plonked ourselves down and tucked into some excellent food.
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| From Jeita and Byblos, Lebanon |
We had tabbouleh which was without wheat but had lots of tomatoes, parsley and greens, drenched in lemon juice and a bit of oil – delicious, moutabel which was puréed aubergine and very similar to Baba Ganough in Egypt and Jordan and cheesy garlic bread. It was delicious and made up for our lack of sleep. I worked on photos while Djalma gave me his advice, we read a small part of the news and generally relaxed. Byblos was beautiful but we didn't have the energy and therefore inclination to do it justice so we got an apple/mint nargileh (water pipe) instead. Even though my cold had almost gone it wasn't the best idea to sit and smoke but it was delicious and relaxing so I thought, sod it, and we smoked until we left the restaurant to hitch or catch a bus to Tripoli.
We walked along the main road to Tripoli our best thumbing efforts landing us on a bus. Djalma wasn't too happy about using public transport keen on talking to more of the same kind of people that we had met in the morning, I agreed but didn't so much, just as long as we moved in the right direction. The bus driver was young, good looking and fucking nuts. At one point we passed two people trying to flag down the bus but he saw them too late, so on the main road still hurtling along he manoeuvred his way behind a car choosing to break then, missing the boot by inches and then reversed along the motorway to collect the potential passengers. Djalma and I were both a bit white knuckled after that, the driver didn't stop talking, in Arabic, to Djalma apparently cracking loads of jokes because one guy who was listening was nearly wetting himself laughing. We were just grateful to get off the bus in one piece. Hoisting our backpacks on our backs we set off in search of a listed hotel only to find it full, the old dude in the hotel pointed across the way to another hotel which was also full, the old and rather more helpful lady called the optimistically named 'Palace Hotel' and made us wait for two boys to come and collect us.
We made it there and were greeted by a sour looking woman whose face was only unlined because she never used it. We gave her our passports and money and settled in our mould box for the night.
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| From Tripoli, Lebanon |
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