Byblos

I've heard from the locals that it get "really" hot until July, and in August you just stop looking at the temperature as it all becomes irrelevant, it's just hot. The heat and humidity is so overpowering that walking outside feels like an outdoor sauna. And when the sun sinks, the temperature stubbornly refused to follow suit. 

Lessons already learnt. Do not attempt to walk in the middle of the day unless you plan to get heat stroke. Do not tell a local "it's really starting to get hot" unless you wish to be ridiculed. HOT?! Ha! This isn't hot?! 

Either stay indoors in air-conditioned rooms or ditch Beirut for somewhere cooler as many locals seem to do. For our first weekend escaped we head to the coastal town of Byblos (aka Jbeil). On a good run, Byblos is a 40min drive north of Beirut and it's a beautiful town that has it all: history, sea, souq, and seafood. 

Byblos has experienced a kind of rebirth since it's prewar heyday, a popular beach holiday destination and emerged as a stage for big bands - this month BB King, Slash and Snow Patrol graced it's shores. 

To the south of the ancient port is the glitzy playground of luxury beach resorts packed with bikini-clad, gold aviator shade partygoers; and to the north is more laid-back, family friendly Byblos. Unable to fit our 'wealth' and 'glamour' into our oversized bags stuffed with baby paraphernalia, we chose the north side. 

One of few beachfront budget hotels is Ahiram Hotel. True, the rooms are not like those of the Four Seasons, but it's rustic, friendly, well maintained, every room has an ocean-view balcony and access to the FREE public beach below. Best of all, 70's posters of Lebanon's landmarks hanging on nearly every wall in the hotel blissfully puts me in a relaxed, nostalgic state-of-mind. 

Waiting for the heat of the day to pass, the three of us lay on our bed enjoying a lazy slumber. The breeze carries the sound of the waves and children playing down below crash, squeal, crash, squeal. The sound transported me back to my childhood of summer holidays spent at sleepy seaside towns. 

In the early evening, we catch up with friends and take a brief history tour through the old town. It's an ancient port framed by pre-Roman ruins. The earliest record of Byblos dates back 5000 BC and believed to be the oldest continuously inhabited city. The small Neolithic fishing community developed into a major commercial port for ancient Egyptian seafarers buying cedar and is also the birthplace of our modern alphabet.

Following the winding road within the old port, we meander our way through a warren of cobbled streets, passing an old stone school and church. 

You can catch sight of a blue-domed mosque before walking through a stone archway which brings you to the beautifully restored old souq selling Phoenician-themed knickknacks and Lebanese kitsch. 

The striking brown stone walls of the Crusader citadel, Phoenicain ramparts, and Bronze Age ruins seem to want to talk about battles lost and won long, long ago. 

Dinner at Byblos-Sur-Mer is a must. The restaurant has an open terrace right on the port offering an exceptional view and a welcomed cool breeze. We feasted on mezze and mouth-watering catch of the day. Sipping on chilled wine, watching a spectacular sunset and enjoying great company is the perfect combination for a chilled evening. 

We look forward to more trips to Byblos for weekend escapes, especially when opposing August temperatures expect to hit new highs.

Living A Fairytale

We have been at our serviced apartment/hotel for over a week and we're all getting very comfortable with the ‘service’ part of the deal. The room is cleaned daily and my heart skips with joy when the housekeeper delivers our package of pressed laundry. I'm all excited like a princess twirling in my heavenly-scented snow whites.  The thought of loading and (reloading) the washing machine is now a distant memory.

Even Mateo is happy with his digs. I caught His Highness waving from our balcony to a group of children playing at a nursery opposite our building. Seizing the opportunity, I hand him over to the nursery to play with the kids. Waltzing away I kiss my little prince goodbye “See you at 4. Ta ta!”.

What a difference a week makes. Everyone is LOVING their new found freedom! But our self-eviction had arrived all too soon and the ‘suite’ life had to come to an end. It was time to find our own apartment to call ‘home’- washing machine and all. 

After a disappointing week of apartment hunting around Hamra we realise we’re out of our league. Two factors are against us: (1) there’s a rental squeeze gripping Beirut, especially Hamra, and (2) high season is upon us which means an influx of foreigners moving in for summer. Unless you’re willing to pay a princely sum of $2000US per month (and over) the area is not worth a look. Anything under that amount apartments are either the size of a shoebox or plain shabby.

The DIY approach to renting in Beirut is time consuming and having no success on our own we opted for an agent to help us. Thankfully, he was a real find. He let it slip that he lived in Switzerland for over a decade and Mikey’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. The two hit it off instantly. “Don’t worry I’m going to help you find just what you’re looking for. Have you thought about moving to Achrafieh? It’s a family neighbourhood, safe, less expensive” he explains.

He was right. The second apartment we inspected was The One. We actually saw it advertised online however looking in awe at pictures of its grand views, big rooms and large kitchen we thought it was way out of our budget.  Thanks to Mateo, he sealed the deal for us. Laying his charm on thick with the landlady, she made us a deal we couldn’t refuse and the next day we had the keys to our very own palace.

View from apartment looking out to Journieh Bay

Like a happy fairytale ending we bid our farewells to the hotel staff and housekeeper. Life is bliss until...

When it came to settling the bill I almost dropped dead from shock. The laundry fee came to (gulp) $200US. I nervously handed back the statement “Oh no, no, no there’s a mistake, see there’s one too many ‘0’s, it should read $20”. The concierge - now turning into The Joker from Dark Night sneers “No mistake Madam, that’s how much your laundry cost”. For FIVE lousy loads of laundry!?!  Frozen in disbelief I felt the tiara slip off my head. Silly me for not asking the price for a bag of washing at a 3 Star hotel in Beirut. Oops lesson learned. “OK...” I regretfully respond throwing crisp $20 dollar bills down the gurgler “...its back to the washing machine I go heigh-ho, heigh-ho”.

Finding Our Feet

Everyone is welcome in the Western neighbourhood of Hamra, it’s well known as Lebanon’s secular haven, playing host to people from all walks of life. It’s a central hub for students & expats, Christian & Muslims alike to mingle at sidewalk cafes, posh hotels, restaurants, bars and bookstores.

We spend our first weeks in Hamra, but to clarify, we’re not living a diplomat’s lifestyle, no 5-star hotels and no silver service, just good old fashioned DIY expat living.

Before landing in Beirut, in trepidation I booked our 3-Star accommodation online, which had no reviews so we were either in for a shocker or a winner. It’s neither. Our modest one-bedroom self-serviced apartment off Rue Hamra is basic but clean. Everything is at our doorstep - including traffic. Even though we’re a block back from the main thoroughfare, the traffic noise from the 2nd floor is so intense we may as well be lounging in our pyjamas in the middle of the road.

Sleep? What sleep! Never mind the clamor outside, we requested a cot for Mateo but the rickety old thing couldn’t hold itself together let alone my son, so the three of us piled into the small double bed. Mateo was the only one waking up fresh as a daisy. Mikey & I ached all over convinced our son was a ninja in his past life. His erratic/impulsive sidekick to the ribs and karate chop to the face are LETHAL.

Thankfully, we were kindly given an upgrade to a two-bedroom apartment on the 10th floor. What a difference 8 floors make! The lounge is spacious, kitchenette is well equipped & the master bedroom has a queen size bed. I’m in Heaven. Our little ninja moved into his very own headquarters converting his bedroom into a giant crib by jumbling together our suitcases, pieces of bedroom furniture and dining room chairs.

From our large balcony we had panoramic views across Ras Beirut, the Mediterranean Sea and Lebanon Hills. Elevated so high up felt like we were on top of the world. Truth be told, I nearly gagged from vertigo every time I looked down, nonetheless, relieved to have more breathing space from chaos down below. 

Reminiscent of the ocean views back in OZ it felt comforting to look out to The Med and recognise our small but significant achievement in finding a suitable temporary home. “We have found our feet in Beirut” I acknowledge to myself.

I was about to put mine up on the sofa when I heard a hullabaloo in the toilet - sounded more like spurting water followed by squeals of laughter - so I went to inspect. And there I caught Mateo’s head deep in the bidet bowl fascinated by his dad’s demonstration of the porcelain throne. I cry out “Mikey, why have you got your FOOT in the butt washer?” His response was priceless “It’s for washing your feet…no?” he innocently replies.

I wonder what other innovative uses the bidet can offer? I’m sure my fellow travel buddies have some ideas, I’d love to know.