Today I asked my way through to the bus to Baalbek from Zahle. First rejecting the taxi drivers, then asking several people, finally I talked to two women in Arabic and they stopped a taxi for me and told him to take me to the right bus stop down the road where the crossing is. Then I rode up the Bekaa valley, past a few soldiers, even saw a black tank parked by the road, until I arrived in Baalbek. There I had some coffee and hummus in a cafe, then asked the waiter for help and he took me to the entrance to the ruins and helped me hire a guide. And this is the result of an hour in the blazing sunshine, visiting the ancient temple of Bacchus where orgies have been celebrated, and seeing the temple of Jupiter and the sculpture of Cleopatra with the snake at her breast after she killed herself...The temples are gigantic, columns like 8 meters tall, towering over the valley..Baalbek is the highest point, the
Orontes and the Litani river both spring from here, flowing in opposite directions. On the way back I sat next to a young soldier in battle fatigues on the mini bus, and the two young men in front of me flashed me a photo of the Hezbollah chief with a grin on their faces. As the bus was driving down the bumpy road, Arabic music was playing loudly in the radio, in the familiar bellydance rhythm. Then we passed through a town where all the women were wearing hijab and I managed to form a question in Arabic and asked the girl next to me:"Ma ismu hadha madeena?"-what is the name of this town? "Ali Nakhle", she told me. I guess, anything starting with Ali means the people living there are Shia. We drove on, music playing, and tell you what: I got a kick out of this! The thrill of driving through a place that is very close to a territory where the embassies tell you not to enter, not knowing exactly where we were, feeling free and enjoying the smell of adventure. Yes, I noticed that the key to safe travel is speaking some Arabic and befriending the local people, accepting their friendly assistance whenever needed.
Orontes and the Litani river both spring from here, flowing in opposite directions. On the way back I sat next to a young soldier in battle fatigues on the mini bus, and the two young men in front of me flashed me a photo of the Hezbollah chief with a grin on their faces. As the bus was driving down the bumpy road, Arabic music was playing loudly in the radio, in the familiar bellydance rhythm. Then we passed through a town where all the women were wearing hijab and I managed to form a question in Arabic and asked the girl next to me:"Ma ismu hadha madeena?"-what is the name of this town? "Ali Nakhle", she told me. I guess, anything starting with Ali means the people living there are Shia. We drove on, music playing, and tell you what: I got a kick out of this! The thrill of driving through a place that is very close to a territory where the embassies tell you not to enter, not knowing exactly where we were, feeling free and enjoying the smell of adventure. Yes, I noticed that the key to safe travel is speaking some Arabic and befriending the local people, accepting their friendly assistance whenever needed.
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