I was reading, via Blog Baladi, this Now Lebanon piece on unmarried couples in Lebanon being unable, or at least having to lie in order to, share a hotel room.
Now, regarding the foreigner-Lebanese couple, that’s not my experience. But I’ve heard it exists. Certainly, all foreigner couple isn't an issue. You know, we're all going to Hell anyway.
However, contained within the article was something I found a little disturbing:
Should a “mixed” couple (one Lebanese and one foreigner) try to book a room at a hotel in Lebanon, they too are turned away, if not for the cohabitation law, then certainly for reasons of social norms.
“We don’t like it,” said a manager at one seaside hotel in Beirut. “You don’t like what?” NOW Lebanon asked. “Couples with different nationalities, or a Lebanese mixing with a foreigner.”
My considered response to statements such as the above involves a string of four letter words my mother taught me when I was knee high to a grasshopper and a boot to the offender’s soft parts. Then I’d set the wife on him.
"Sweetheart, could you go talk to that
lovely man behind the counter? He thinks
you're a hooker."
Now, throughout the article, it’s unclear as to why the hotels are doing this. At various points it’s articulated as follows:
1.Religious law forbids it (regardless of religion)
2.General Security appear to be leaning on hotels
3.Lebanese hotel owners are racists (yes, sorry, but that’s exactly what the quoted passage above implies)
4.It’s the law (when it comes to Lebanese couples)
5.It’s a matter of stopping prostitution
However, the ISF vice squad then say:
But an officer there, who did not want to speak on the record, said the police would never crack down on hotels unless someone specifically called in a complaint.
“We are mainly preoccupied with enforcing the law against prostitution,” he added.
I’ll quote Blog Baladi’s Najib in order to express my disgust:
I find this policy really backwards and unjustified as this is bad business for them.
Precisely. Only, I’d add the word ass in front of backwards.
However, I have a question for you:
Is the following attitude common among Lebanese?
“You don’t like what?” NOW Lebanon asked.
“Couples with different nationalities, or a Lebanese mixing with a foreigner.”
If it is, does it include other Arabs, or is it restricted to honkies like myself?
So, following on from here, the bank situation gets even more ludicrous.
If you’ll recall, we used to bank with HSBC until they arbitrarily closed our account. Well, we still hold an HSBC credit card. Sooo… the wife gets a phone call the other day. It’s HSBC on the line. They tell her that you can’t hold a credit card without an account.
My wife’s co-worker describes the noise that followed that pronouncement as something akin to the Banshee’s wail.
Yes Honey, I love you
Anyway, long story short, the missus has been in filling out forms to reopen a bank account that the bank chose to close for us.
Awesome.
Gets better. We have a UK credit card, held with a UK branch of HSBC. We use it when we’re back in Blighty. So, there’s a little on there at the moment. Excellent says the wife, since I’m opening an account here in Lubnan, I’ll avoid all the charges and make payment through our new, shiny HSBC account, which, they assured her, will be open in time.
But … it’s not. It’s delayed. The reason? They got her to fill out the wrong form. She then called them, turns out they can’t push it through in time ... note: she called them. The result? We were on schedule to miss a payment.
Well… until I did something that I haven’t done in years… I had to call the folks to go to the bank in the UK and deposit around 40 GBP…. 40 GBP… Lord.
Time to start putting all my shinies in a sack and burying them somewhere, methinks. It'd be much more efficient and the rate of interest's probably similar.
I’ve had any number of conversations with people recently about Lebanon, tourism, marketing of the country and the sights (and sites) to be seen here.
I’m a great fan of antiquity. I’ve seen the various Greek sites, Roman ruins, Druidic remains and Phoenician sites. Dotted all over the place, I’ve gone out of my way to visit important historical locales in any number of different countries.
And yet, there’s one right on our doorstep that isn’t given enough press around the world.
Baalbek.
Wait, don't tell me, I know where
they are...
Baalbek is about as good as it gets. Phoenician, Greek and Roman ruins. Inscriptions from historical figures. It’s all there.
Yet … it’s not marketed. Nobody knows about the place. When I first went home on holiday during my first stint in Beirut, I always encouraged (and still do) people to visit Lebanon. The answer’s always, “Why?”
Well, there’s Baalbek. It’s as impressive as the Athenian Acropolis, it’s older, too. There’s Byblos, the oldest inhabited place on the planet (OK, there are a lot of places that claim the same, but sod it, I’m biased). There’s Tyre: The site where Alexander the Great built a great big frickin’ causeway into the sea, literally leaving his mark on the world not to mention one of the largest hippodromes in the world. There’s the excavations in Downtown (a fully uncovered Roman bath complex for God’s sake). There’s Crusader castles, Ottoman palaces, ancient mosques and churches. Lebanon also claims the village in which Jesus turned water into wine. Saint George (England’s patron saint) was said to have fought the dragon here. Whatever your bent on history, it’s all here.
People tend to go quiet at that point. “Oh. Right. I didn’t know that.”
I’ve found getting around Lebanon’s, undeniably, violent past is comparatively easy. People tend to believe a long term expat.
That Lebanon’s ancient past is ignored amid the slew of marketing that generally aims at the “East meets West, Party Capital” bumpf is criminal. Yes, Beirut is a great party town. Yes, you should come and let your hair down. But there’s more to Lebanon than vodka shots, rooftop bars and exposed flesh.
Lebanon's other famous columns...
That’s the wrong demographic to be targeting. People who are interested in coming to Beirut, and let’s face it, they might get out of the city for a day or two at most, aren’t spending significant amounts of cash. They’re young, they’re staying in hostels, and their cash goes into the sink holes that are Gemmayzeh/Monot/Hamra.
Lebanon should be pushing her ancient roots.
But, as this country is wont to do, the focus is all on the future. I understand why. But there’s a huge opportunity being missed.
My Lebanese friends often say that Baalbek (in particular) is known. They point to concerts held there. The whole country knows. People come home from the Gulf.
That's it! The columns!
They were part of Mika's set! (SQUEAL!)
Well… yeah… Lebanese know about Baalbek. But then, Lebanese always knew about Baalbek. These same Lebanese don’t go there very often. It’s the ajnabee you need to get to Baalbek.
If you don’t, there’ll be no money to maintain the damn place over the long run. It’s already neglected. Case in point: Whenever my folks come to Lebanon (about twice a year) we always hit up Baalbek (among other places). The second time we went, the guide greeted my father and clearly remembered him, recounting a particular anecdote my father had told him the previous trip. … A guide … remembering a single tourist from six months previously….
Visiting the castle at Byblos I had to go find the kiosk guy in order to buy a ticket. At Beiteddine they had to go and find the tickets. At the hippodrome there were no tickets to be found. The guy didn’t know how much to charge. We had to get out our Lonely Planet (back in the day when Lebanon had its own edition) to show him how much the guidebook said was the going rate….
Urrggghhhh….
Not good. Not good.
Lonely Planet editors: Not the
most politically sensitive...
Pop Quiz (Answer without resorting to Google)
Why is Nahr al Keleb (Dog River) named as it is?
Answers on a postcard, the winner gets a special prize.
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This particular rant was brought to you by Chateaus Kouroum and Kefraya.
While taking a tour of Kefraya’s vineyard this weekend, we were told that the Lebanon had been the site of winemaking since Phoenician times. This was met with cries of incredulity from others on the tour. Hence the diatribe. Once the bulging vein on my forehead had receded I decided to blog… sorry, rant, on this issue.
Disclaimer: This is not a reflection on either Chateaus Kefraya or Kouroum. Though, the former is pretty pretentious.
I was just at the bank. All went well, a routine stop.
However, while I there I suffered a traumatic flashback to previous Lebanese banking experiences. The banks here are notoriously awful, everyone has a story to tell, but I’ve had what I think are more than my fair share.
I’ll preface this by saying that I’ve worked within the banking sector in the UK, for a small private bank.
Where do I start…?
Ok, firstly I couldn’t open a bank account when I first arrived as my work permit hadn’t been issued. Fine. However, the work permit took around a year to be issued. My wife and I ended up opening a joint bank account, not a problem.
Once the account had been opened HSBC (yes, naming and shaming) couldn’t seem to issue ATM cards that worked. Seriously, in the C21st this is still a problem. So, they’d issue a card, it wouldn’t work, we’d take it in to exchange it. We’d then be told that it would take two weeks to get another one. What? Yep. Cards come from the UAE. Awesome. Ok, not a problem. These things happen. Three times in succession? Three times? For the mathematically challenged, that’s one-and-a-half months! Their answer? “What’s the problem? Come in to the bank.” Thanks.
A debit card ... or so I'm told
About a year later HSBC arbitrarily closed the account. Apparently, HSBC customers had to maintain a certain level of cash in the account. It was a current account. You know, the type people use on a day-to-day basis. You know, the one that pays virtually no interest. The one that makes no sense to actually keep your money in long term? Bizarre. Of course, we kept the credit card. Naturally.
So, we shifted to Lebanese Canadian.
HSBC evidently weren’t happy about this. Three or four times since, upon using an HSBC ATM, the machine has stolen our cash. Seriously. Pop the card in, whack in your PIN, enter the amount. Machine sits there flickering. Card gets spat back out. “Transaction not completed, contact your issuing bank.” Hmmmm…. So, you go to another ATM and get a statement. Turns out that darling HSBC has, in fact, withdrawn the money from your account. Yes, we got the money back, but it took about a month each time.
Anyway, Lebanese Canadian must be better than HSBC, right? Well, no. They’re on par. In terms of customer service they’re pretty appalling, just like the lot from Hong Kong.
Just like everyone else in the country we were affected by the ATM fraud of last year. A recap: Some guy was copying the details of ATM cards that were used in certain ATMs. Happens all the time, but not in Lebanon apparently. The response? Cancel cards that might have been affected. That’s fine. But, firstly, they didn’t tell anyone where the problem was occurring, so you couldn’t avoid it. Secondly, they didn’t contact us to tell us they were doing it. Thirdly, it took two weeks to get a new ATM card again. Twice.
Other than that … well, standing orders didn’t work for a while. Paying the Lebanese Canadian credit card from our Lebanese Canadian account? Can’t do it automatically, apparently. You can set up the standing order to make the payment. They just won’t carry it out. So, you get a nasty phone call saying, “You haven’t paid your credit card charges this month.” “Really? Because I told you to transfer the required cash every month.” “What?” “Did you check?” “Uhhhh….”, “Ok, check, phone me back and apologise.” They eventually got it right.*
Oh, and their Online Banking doesn’t work well. But that’s ok … for administrative reasons they’re working with HSBC now …. Great.
Well, all this is funny with hindsight. However, we must be grateful that Lebanon wasn’t hit by the financial crisis. Lebanese banks are forced to hold a large percentage of their cash reserves both with themselves and the central bank.
Now, if they’d just let me get at my money, that’d be perfect.
*I’m not normally so unpleasant to people normally. But enough was enough.
Danielle, of This Is Beirut, asked me about my experience of the evacuation of British citizens from Lebanon during Harb Tammuz in 2006.
My apologies if this is a wall of text. You’re forgiven if you can’t face it. It’s not a particularly funny subject, but I’ve found that the Lebanese, much like the Brits, have a very dark sense of humour. So I shall endeavor to lighten it up a little.
I was living in Achrafyie (an area of Beirut, for my fellow foreigners) at the time, and getting to the store to pick up my copy of Prestige was getting a little tough on account of the sporadic bombings and overflying Apaches. The wife (she of Glen Close-esque tendencies) and I headed a little north of the city to stay with relatives who, at that point, still enjoyed access to a wide range of Lebanese society magazines and, just as importantly, running water.
Ensconced nearby the American Embassy, we felt a lot more secure. After all, the Israelis wouldn’t be dropping munitions near to GW’s boys. I called up the British Embassy and registered - previously I hadn’t bothered - letting them know where I was and asking what I was to do.
In true understated British style, I was told to watch BBC World. I blinked, “The BBC? As much as I love Trevor McDonald, I don’t think he’ll be of much use to me,” I said. Anyway, much to my amusement I was told that information would be passed through the news bulletins. I know that the budget for rescuing expats who have chosen to live in far flung places is probably pretty small, but surely Her Majesty’s Government could do better? Apparently not.
Sir Trevor MacDonald, pillar of the
British Establishment
Anyway, after a few days of waiting and watching Trevor and Co. pontificate on Lebanon, sure enough, we were told to head down to Forum de Beyrouth the following morning. The wife and I drove into Beirut along with a stray Canadian friend we’d picked up on the way out the city and down to the Forum.
Forum de Beyrouth
In the car park was an enormous throng of people all clutching little burgundy-coloured passports. I met up with a bunch of bewildered British Council teachers, who were looking around a little wild-eyed. It was all very orderly and somehow reassuring. There’s something about Brits in crisis mode that’s very reassuring: “The world’s ending? Well, you just stand here in line and Bob will take care of you. There’s tea on the other side of the barricade.”
The majority of people were all being very restrained, stoic even. However, we were being interviewed by a news crew, Sky if memory serves, and we obviously weren’t conveying the sense of drama they were after. When asked if we were afraid for our lives our answer was, “No, not really.” Given that there were twenty or so Royal Marines with an assortment of light arms standing fifty metres away, this was the obvious response. Realising that we were too sensible to get her the ratings she needed the correspondent headed off and hunted down a woman who was wailing, and I mean wailing, about, of all things, the heat. Yes, apparently the British Embassy had failed miserably because they hadn’t provided an awning to keep us cool. This was a woman from Liverpool who’d been working for a health-related NGO.
Needless to say, given the situation the Embassy was doing a fine job. I looked around in vain for a woman willing to give this harridan a slap, but to no avail.
We were swiftly processed and were soon bussed down to the dock. There was a tense moment between the Marines and the Lebanese Army before we were handed over to our British escorts. I have to say, I felt for the soldiers. Unable to intervene in the conflict, they were reduced to babysitting fleeing foreigners. At all times they treated us with the extreme courtesy that I’ve been accustomed to since moving here. The moment passed and we were soon aboard HMS Bulwark, a Royal Navy troop ship that was to ferry us to Cyprus.
HMS Bulwark, not the most impressive of vessels
We were assigned rooms, four or more people to an office maybe 1.5x2 metres in size. Ours was labeled “The Buffer’s Room”. Wondering who, or what, the Buffer was, we dumped our backpacks and took a stroll around. It was at this point I came across the most glamorous evacuee ever seen. She was a Lebanese-Brit wearing full makeup, heels that could be classified as deadly weapons and designer shades. Tottering about on her mile-highs, she was demanding to know why her family was crammed into a single, small room. Loudly. This was a bit rich given that the ship was overflowing with evacuees and that the crew were set to sleep in the cargo hold or in the corridors, but there you go. I’ll never forget the sight of a 18-year-old sailor trying to explain to this woman that she had it as good as it was going to get while apologizing profusely. Along with the cursing Liverpudlian it’s my abiding memory of the trip. They were a minority, but then it’s always the crazies who make the biggest impression.
Crazies - Memorable...
Talking to the crew was a humbling experience. The average age of the sailors and marines was about 22 or 23, or so it seemed. They had been at sea for four months and had been heading home for leave before being called to Beirut to evacuate our sorry selves. Enroute they had stripped the entire ship down to the bare minimum, dumped tonnes of equipment in Cyprus and all before heading into a war zone, they hadn’t slept in two days. Nevertheless, they were courteous to the point of embarrassing us, offering everything they had to help. There’s something about taking a Mars Bar off a guy who’s bent over backward to help you that feels very, very wrong. Luckily I’d stocked up on cigarettes and was able to throw them around like manna from Heaven. I spoke to one boy, boy, as that’s exactly what he was, and he told me that he had booked a holiday in Spain with his girlfriend who he’d last seen four months ago. The plane had carried her and her mother off to the resort the day before. I immediately felt a sense of shame. To which he replied, “It’s the job, isn’t it?” with an, honest, smile on his face. I’m not sure that I would have been so gracious.
Another encounter that stands out was meeting an officer of around 40 years old. While having a smoke on deck he told me that it isn’t uncommon to evacuate a group of useless expats from far flung locales. He’d done it “four or five” times in the past ten years. Africa, the Middle East and South America see it all the time. It’s interesting to think that, in times when the British military is so maligned in the eyes of many of its citizens, let alone people in this part of the world, when called upon these people provide a fantastic service to not only their own citizens, but also to those living in disaster zones.
On the way of out Beirut’s port we were buzzed by Israeli aircraft and two of their motor launches powered toward Bulwark before veering off at the last moment. Speaking to the crew later on I sensed a clear feeling of disgust toward the Israeli forces as a result of buzzing vessels on a humanitarian mission. In retaliation to this provocation the anti-aircraft defenses of the various British ships “lit up” the incoming aircraft whenever they popped up on the radar, meaning that somewhere over the middle of the Mediterranean an Israeli fighter pilot probably got the fright of his life when told, via flashing red lights no doubt, that he had just been targeted by a Ship-to-Air missile. Serves the arsehole right.
An IDF Motor launch - Not very frightening
In any case, we arrived in Cyprus in the early hours after sailing all night. We were registered and bussed to RAF Akrotiri, an air force base that the RAF has maintained for years. On our arrival we were given mobile phones, in return for a deposit in the form of our passport, and told to call whoever we needed to. That done, the local community supplied blankets, clothes and other essentials spontaneously. I even saw toys for the children. Masses of food were then supplied as per the standard operating procedure of the British armed forces – When in doubt eat. And drink tea. Lots of tea.
The rest was uneventful, we caught a charter flight from Cyprus to London and I was home around 30 hours after leaving the Forum.
My wife was bussed out of Lebanon into Syria a day or so later with her family. We were unmarried at the time, so she didn’t get to experience the pleasure cruise, much to my eternal shame. Her experience was more frantic than mine. However, whenever asked about it, she dissolves into incandescent rage at the situation. And rightly so.
Anyway, that was my experience.
Nothing like as dramatic as those we left behind.
Being evacuated from Beirut is something of a family tradition, my mother was evacuated by the US Fifth Fleet back in the 1970s. I’m hoping that my children will be spared a similar experience … but I don’t hold out much hope.
Oh, and we met The Buffer in the end. He was a lovely man.
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I've updated my share options. The Facebook link was irritating me, so it's been replaced with the little bar that should appear below this post. Thank you to everyone who has Facebooked, Twittered or linked to the blog. I decided to make it a little easier for you.
Also, thanks to Mustapha of Beirutspring.com for linking to the Glen Close post. I'm a big fan of his blog and was flattered to appear.
It seems that the Sudanese aren’t the only ones sticking the boot into the Lebanese about their attitudes to foreigners. Blogs, news sites and online newspapers are awash with criticism of Lebanon’s treatment of the Palestinians.
It seems that it’s de rigueur to tar the Lebanese with the racism brush.
Well, ok … but there are a few things that aren’t being said in amongst all this righteous indignation.
Take, for example, this article by a Palestinian American in my favorite bleeding-heart Lefty newspaper, The Guardian:
“The Arab world is rife with hypocrisy when it comes to the Palestinian issue. Arab leaders frequently and rightly cite the chronic human rights violations in which Israel engages, but fail to address the marginalisation of Palestinians within their own societies. Historically, Lebanese citizens have declared that naturalising Palestinians will act as a disincentive to their eventual repatriation and the exercise of their inviolable right of return. But this is a specious and cynical misrepresentation of the issue.
First, many diaspora Palestinians who have been naturalised in foreign countries, including myself, still seek to return to Palestine. Second, an individual ought to have the right to lead a complete and fulfilling life in his/her country of birth, irrespective of national or racial identity; it is not up to the Arab leaders to safeguard the Palestinian right of return against the prospect of a meaningful life lived outside Palestine.
More plausibly, Lebanon's miserable record regarding the human rights of Palestinian refugees (and others) is a result of the country's sectarian structure. Lebanon has never been a cohesive political entity and remains divided by sectarian allegiances. Most Lebanese citizens are members of one of three communities: the Sunni community, the Shia community and the Christian community (each of which is further subdivided into competing forces). The country is less divided today than it was in 1991, in the aftermath of the 15-year-long civil war, but it remains fractured.
In this context, it matters that the Palestinian refugees in Lebanon are mostly Sunni Muslims. There is a fear that if Palestinians are integrated, they will upset the delicate confessional balance that prevails here. It is therefore difficult to see how Lebanon will undertake to improve the lives of the refugees before the Lebanese solve their own sectarian problems.”
Right, notice that the author doesn’t answer the question he poses in his title, “why”?
Following the 1967 War (The Six Day War) large areas of Lebanon were filled with Palestinian refugees who had fled from Israel-Palestine. In 1970 the PLO was expelled from Jordan at gunpoint during what is known as Black September. They moved en-masse to Lebanon.
What happened next has sparked much of the anti-Palestinian feeling within the country.
The following extract is taken from a Palestinian-run website:
“Under the guise of preparing armed resistance to Israel, the PLO insisted on political, police, and economic control of the refugee camps, as well as access to large areas of South Lebanon and the Beqaa Valley that were used for training. This generated increasing friction with the Lebanese population. Clashes over who was in charge between the Palestinians and Lebanese security and military led to armed incidents flaring up all over Lebanon, as the Palestinians were operating from refugee camps in the South, in and around Beirut, and in the North.”
And all that’s before the most famous event when it comes to Palestinian-Lebanese relations, Sabra and Chatila.
“For 40 hours in September 1982, members of the Israeli-allied Lebanese Phalangist militia raped, killed, and injured a large number of unarmed civilians, mostly children, women and elderly people inside the encircled and sealed Sabra and Shatila camps. The estimate of victims varies between 700 (the official Israeli figure) to 3,500.”
Suffice it to say that there are reasons for Lebanese hostility toward Palestinians and likewise, reasons for Palestinians to be hostile toward Lebanese. This hostility is obviously ongoing and both sides have been guilty of pushing the boundaries. Most famously was the attack on Nahr el Bared camp.
The camp issue is a sensitive one. Simply put, the Palestinians hold weapons to ensure their safety. An understandable attitude given that they’ve been pushed from pillar to post by every Arab nation with little in the way of real, concrete assistance. However, the Lebanese are anxious to demilitarize the camps, again, an understandable desire.
The question is, how do you grant a group extended civil liberties without taking their weapons from them? Additionally, the Lebanese state has the thorny issue of Hezbollah’s weapons and their place with Lebanese society.
It’s a complicated situation that the West does not fully comprehend.
This region is an ethnic, religious mosaic. There are little in the way of the unifying factors and the chasms that divide communities lie close to the surface. The illusion of “Arab unity” or solidarity can be shattered in an instant.
The reality of the situation is this:
1. 1. No Arab country truly cares about the Palestinians. They use them as a political football.
2. 2. The Palestinians and Lebanese both have reasons to distrust each other.
3. 3. Both the Palestinians and the Lebanese have been catastrophically failed by their political elites since the creation of Israel and Lebanon.
4. 4. It is the Lebanese and Palestinian people who have suffered as a result, not the leadership.
Racism exists in the Middle East. Racism exists in every country the world over. That such a violate region is home to such attitudes should strike every intelligent individual as blatantly obvious. However, it does not help the situation when the media presents only one side of the story.
Is it wrong? Of course. Is it surprising? No.
Why am I not surprised that I’ve typed that sentence twice in a matter of days?
One thing’s for certain, it makes my homeland look uncomplicated.
However, the issue is being considered, so maybe there’s room for hope.
