Lebanon

It always seems that when I'm dragging my feet for a new country and not wanting to go that I am the most impressed. Lebanon has done that to me, as India did before.

I don't know if I was dragging my feet because I became just too comfortable in Hama, Syria, or if it was because of the attack on the southern border a few days ago, but either way, I kept putting it off. No longer.

The border crossing is on the Mediterranean and had a wonderful breeze of fresh salt air as I breezed through customs. I got out of the service taxi in Tripoli and found a pension in a families house within thirty minutes. Then off to cruise the old town and was even asked by the locals to take their photos. The old town is not charming, like Damascus, but real and alive. New buildings are built on the old and are each neighborhood sells different things. I particularly liked the furniture section and car repair sections for their friendliness and architecture. Who would have thought. And how nice is it to see woman working again, and their faces, arms and legs, too. It's been a long time.

Today I headed up into the hills to Bcharre, the hometown of artist and painter Khalil Gibran, which is nestled on the edge of a precarious cliff and was cool and enjoyable. I also visited the ski resort town (yes, you can ski in Lebanon) of The Cedars and walked through one of the last cedar groves in the country, which is a shame since it is their national symbol and on their flag.

Now I'm in a posh coffee shop sipping black coffee from a French press and surfing the web, free of censorship. What a difference a few kilometers make.

Tomorrow, the old Phoenician fishing port of Byblos, then Thursday off to the airport to return to Aqaba and headed west to the country you're not allowed to mention in these parts.

In two weeks time, I'll be back at Casa de Pico with the folks and enjoying San Diego with my new dig friends from there. Life is good.