Will travel for food

It is an early morning start. 7am in Beirut. Chaotic, pulsating, and energetic are just a few words to describe a city that, like its people, has managed to survive, and thrive. After several days exploring the city and neighbouring tourist sites, we have organized a visit to the South.

Minutes later we are told our driver is waiting for us outside. The car, which clearly had seen better days, was an old beat-up Renault, and our driver, Maged seems quiet and reserved. He is in his early thirties, balding, and like most Lebanese, a chain smoker. We are told we can have him for 8 hours and almost immediately after leaving Beirut, we ask him to divert from our original travel plan and head to Beiteddine palace, a 200 year old summer home of an Ottoman leader. At first Maged seems hesitant, finally agreeing to take us provided that we don't mention it to the tour company (hope they won't read this) since it involves a fairly lengthy detour from our original plan. The palace, heavily influenced by its Turkish roots, is empty, apart from a few cleaners and military soldiers. Colourful mosaics unearthed several years ago line the stained-glass meeting room opening up to a beautiful open-air courtyard.

Cigarette after cigarette, coffee after coffee, weaving in and out of the cedar-filled landscape of the Chouf Valley, we snake our way along the coast and Maged stops, he must have run out of cigarettes we conclude. Instead, he returns with a large bag filled with fresh falafels and pickled vegetables. His hospitality embodies the spirit of many Lebanese these days after countless years of wars, civil strife and travel advisories. We reach the southern part of Lebanon, in the city of Tyre, just before sundown. Roman ruins, crusader columns and the blue sea of the Mediterranean make this a beautiful backdrop to finish the day. I'm apprehensive, we are now approaching the 8 hour mark with him and we fear we will be forced to pay extra. "No worries my friend", he says in between cigarette puffs, "you are my guest and I am not on any clock".

He drives us to his family's favourite beachside restaurant near the town of Sidon, where is he treated like a celebrity. We are quickly brought ice cold local beers, frosted mugs and like in most bars in Lebanon, salted carrots. The waves crash along the shore as we share stories of our life over fresh caught fish and sheesha, or water-flavoured tobacco pipe. Tourism still hasn't rebounded yet, but when it does, ask for Maged.