The English Nomad has returned from his Middle Eastern holiday in Lebanon, without even experiencing a single bomb threat - disappointing some would say.Before I arrived, I had stored images in the back of my head of tanks blasting off metal rounds, the rattling of gunfire, and cars being hurled into the air by gargantuan explosions. With the exception of a couple of rusty APC’s, my week-long stay was uneventful in the unexpected sense. Thanks to my good friend, Rani, however, I managed to sample a morsel of Lebanese culture.

Downtown Beirut

Also known as centre-ville, or the more hip C-V (both pronounced with a French accent), downtown Beirut has a character of its own. Many of the buildings were blown to pieces during Lebanon’s countless conflicts, most of which have now been built anew, but in accordance with the old blueprints. The result is a beautiful amalgamation of the old and new. In addition to other areas, downtown Beirut splinters into Hamra and Gemmayze.

Hamra

A laidback but happening part of town, Hamra presides over the American University of Beirut (AUB) and its famous adjoining street, Bliss Street. A very modern Crowne Plaza Hotel is located on Hamra Street, the main shopping avenue, and houses a variety of restaurants, including an American-style diner called Roadsters, which serves up good ol’ American hamburgers and thick vanilla milkshakes.

- AUB

AUB is arguably the leading university in the Middle East. A grand campus, a seaside location, and over 100 degree programmes! But no late night visits to the girls’ dormitories - ah, well, you’ve got to compromise somewhere.

What I found very amusing is the fact that the students are grouped and named according to where they hang out during free periods (an example: those who lounge around the main gate are referred to as ‘main gate’).

- Bliss Street

Contrary to any preconceptions you may have, Bliss Street is not infested with druggies. It is in fact well known for the fast food shops along it, headed by ‘Bliss House’ (which does a mean meal by the way).

It is here that I sampled the Godly saj at Comsi Comsaj. Such a simple formula, yet such an excruciatingly delicious result: thin round bread filled with whatever you desire then folded in half to form a crescent-shaped sandwich (or a thin manakeesh to you Arabs out there). I water at the mouth just thinking about a saj spread with labneh (a type of sour yoghurt) and peppered with black olives. ‘wahed labneh w zeitun aswad’ I always tell them.

An obnoxious old man whose name evades me at the moment spends most nights there. You can usually find him slumped on his white plastic chair spitting insults at George, one of the cafeteria owners along the street. A definite visit is necessary when passing through Beirut. If you look Western, he may even pucker his lips and utter some random crap from a famous 1980’s film.

Gemmayze

Lebanon is split into pubbers, clubbers, and chillers (who indulge in shisha and backgammon). Gemmayze is where the pubbers satiate their desires. A stiff drink is never further than a few metres, and if alcohol doesn’t spark a flame within you, there are plenty of restaurants to dine at such as ‘Lord of the Wings’.

The fact that I can remember little of what happened in Gemmayze is testament to what an amazing night it was. I do have pictures, however, and from them I can tell you that I went to The Bulldog, Inn-Tuition, and Rumours, where I assume I imbibed copious amounts of alcohol. Most of the pubs were so full clients were spilling out the door.

I recall that the bartender in The Bulldog was the frank type, and saw right through our joke as we tried to relate The Bulldog to another word starting with ‘bull’. He exclaimed bluntly, ‘I think the word you’re looking for is bull-SHIT!’

Jbeil/Byblos

I visited the ancient city of Byblos at night. We passed by a row of granite columns where I failed to outdo the Greeks with my athletic poses.

We didn’t get to see the castle as we arrived in the evening and it was closed, but we strolled through the market stalls that lined the walls of the old part of town, and explored the adjacent ruins.

On the way back to Beirut, the highway was flowing as slow as ketchup out of a new bottle. Tempers were flaring, horns were beeping, and in classic Arab fashion, 4 lanes were somehow created out of 3.

And as ketchup eventually splatters all over the plate, so we finally sped off, weaving through the traffic in true Lebanese style. Soon enough we chanced upon a very dusty, beaten up SUV, with a mountain of luggage tied to the roof. It was jam-packed with family in the typical Arab fashion. Remembering a story my father told me of his time in Nigeria, I wound the windows down, waved to him, and shouted out in Arabic, ‘Keef el sayara el jdida!’ which, in English, is ‘How’s the new car going?’

A sour expression washed over his face. He replied with a drawn-out (and I imagine slightly irritated) ‘Gooood, gooood’ before accelerating sharply, tearing a path through the highway.

Faraya Mzaar

Mzaar is the name of the mountain that houses this ski resort while Faraya is the name of a small village just below it.

We hired a private taxi from a firm called Charlie Taxi to take us up there. Our driver was a jovial character named Steve.

Our party comprised three people – oy! Everyone else had family obligations due to the Eid holiday – and up we climbed the slopes of Mzaar, snapping shots along the way. Half-way there, we stopped at a row of snack shops, where I picked up a saj (the obsession continues) and some ‘Ras Al Abd’ for dessert, which is a bell shaped chocolate with a very thin coating filled with a creamy marshmallow centre, and a chewy biscuit base. They’re typically wrapped in a very noticeable olive gold, black and red foil. Ras Al Abd translates to ‘head of the slave/negro’. You may draw your own conclusions - though, I must add that it is extremely tasty.

The transition was sudden. Hills and fields of white engulfed us, and the sun gleamed proudly off the snowy sheets. I had never felt real snow before (the closest I had come was frosted chunks in the mountains of Jordan on my way to Petra) so it was quite an experience to finally feel the mushy substance after 18 years of existence. A Kodak moment captured forever.

We entered the snow gear rental store, and asked to be equipped with the suitable attire. Whether it was deliberate or not, the attendants handed us two equally bizarre one-piece suits that even Steve Vai would reject on the grounds of being embarrassing. Mine had a series of orange curves in a tribal pattern, and Rani’s consisted of zany black and white lines dotted with red bulbous shapes. Every few metres we landed face-down or arse-down on the snow with a crunch, and this was on the baby slope. It was practically Blades of Glory with snowboards.

I eventually got so fed up of tumbling to the end of the slope that I exchanged my snowboard for a pair of skis, and my slow, abrupt crashes for ones involving a ski flipping wildly into the air.

I have a trademark technique of skiing which is currently being patented: the idea is to start off with a very detailed plan of action consisting of what path and speed to take down the slope. The next step is to ignore it completely, flounder off the peak, and come screaming wildly down the slope, while cutting a diagonal across the course the whole way. In the majority of cases, by the time you form the inverted ‘V’ to slow you down, it’s too late – execute the Dalton emergency stop manoeuvre comprising throwing oneself to the ground. Works for me.

The entire trip (including a 4-hour wait while we tamed the slopes) cost 65,000 LL (or ’65 thou’ as the locals say). This equates to about $43/£20, which I think is a damn good deal, especially when divided amongst a group.

Jeita

A mere 45 minutes from Beirut, Jeita is a must-see. If you’ve never heard of them, the Jeita caves are a famous landmark in Lebanon.

As you walk through the first section, stalagmites and stalactites dot the floor and ceiling like the jaws of an infernal creature. All is quiet but for the occasional drop of water that resonates through the entire cave complex. It adds to the belittling effect the colossal caves have on its guests. Twists, turns, depression, elevations, holes, and mounds – an abstract world of limestone awaits you in Jeita.

There’s a reason Beirut is (or was) referred to as the ‘Paris of the Middle East’ – it’s a beautiful, exciting city, full of friendly people. Its current situation is undeserved.

When and if I return my list of places to visit are: the Roman ruins of Baalbeck, the cedar trees at Al Arz, and the city of Tripoli.

Note: due to a database mess up, I’ve lost all the previous comments of this article.