Seduced by the comfort of the egg chair and the serenity of the sea view, I dallied over my coffee and set off in the later, hotter morning. Thankfully, the tuk-tuk dropped me off under a bridge to wait for the bus, which took longer than usual to pass. A while later, some ten miles south along the coast, I got off in the center of Jbeil city, also known by its ancient name of Byblos.
I dashed across several lanes of motorway, meandering among honking cars and clearing the median barrier, and started toiling uphill toward the higher parts of the city. At some point, sympathizing with my patent exhaustion, a driver pulled over to offer me a ride. It would have been a salvation had he happened a little earlier, but now I forwent since I was already around the corner from my hostel.
It was on the ground floor of a casual apartment building on a quiet suburban street. I was alone in the dorm, and it effectively became my private room. There were two more occupants in private rooms of their own. One was a Lebanese-American old chap. His son had moved to Lebanon to study and discover his roots, and he seized the opportunity to come along for a holiday. He appeared in the hostel’s common area for brief intervals, before going to and after returning—redder every time—from the beach. The other was a French lad who was there on an internship. From early afternoon till late night, he was in the lounge, nestled in a chair squeezed between a TV and a loudspeaker, listening to French hip-hop and playing a video game that involved little else than shooting and killing while crooning along with the lyrics and mumbling out his exasperation every time he was the one shot and killed.
This story is an excerpt from my book "Backpacking Lebanon", wherein I recount my one-month journey around this fascinating country. Check it out if you like what you're reading.
In the cooler afternoon, I headed out for a first walk in the old town of Byblos. It was as touristy as Batroun but less party- and more family-oriented, as well as much larger. Here too, tourism businesses occupied most of the traditional stone houses. The quaint cobbled streets bustled with pedestrians but, appropriately, were off-limits to vehicles. The freed space accommodated close-set tables of outdoor bars and restaurants which were often shaded by dense bougainvilleas, jasmines, and various vibrant vines.
Having checked out a few churches, mosques, and other historical buildings, I made my way to the town’s port, which is one of the major contenders for the title of the world’s oldest port. Rather than fishing or trading vessels, now it harbored a fleet of tour boats. A battered fortification, on the tip of the breakwater that enclosed the dock, alone betokened the port’s astounding historic duration. I settled below it, beside a mixture of tourists and local fishermen, to marvel at yet another soul-stimulating Mediterranean sunset.
After a quick lahmajun—the oriental version of pizza—at a cheap fast-food place far out from the center, I retraced my steps to the hostel for a sound sleep.
I egressed again with the first light and became the day’s first visitor at Byblos’s acclaimed archeological site. To my chagrin, as soon as I paid the ticket and advanced past the gate, I retrieved my camera from my bag to find its battery dead. In one of the most photogenic places I happened during this trip, I had to make do with my phone.
One of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited cities, settled since at least the 6th millennium BC, Byblos is an antiquarian’s treasure trove. Believed to be where the Phoenician alphabet was first invented, it also contends for being the birthplace of Western writing. Its very name—the city having been the Ancient Greeks’ primary supplier of papyrus—is related to the Greek words for paper, book, and hence the Bible.
The site was extensive and opulent with monuments. Several of the many cultures and empires that ruled the city throughout the ages left their marks. A bunch of Neolithic dwellings and a proto-urban settlement; an Egyptian obelisk; a Phoenician temple, a necropolis, and a fortification wall; a Persian fortress; a Roman amphitheater, a colonnade, and a nymphaeum; all the way to a 19th-century traditional Lebanese mansion… these were only some of the complex’s most remarkable structures. The most prominent one by far was the crusaders’ castle, towering atop the highest ground and dominating the landscape. Visitors could access its upper levels and cherish a wondrous view of the entire archeological site, the sea, and the wider modern city before the soaring mountains.
The sun was hammering from mid-sky by the time I was done exploring this resplendent tribute to human history. Feeling like a candle in a furnace, I retreated to one of the town’s cafes and replenished my fluids with a big bottle of water and a jar of fresh lemonade. Then I braved the upslope back home and lunched on noodles and canned mackerel with chickpeas. After a last evening excursion for a kebab in town, I was ready to rest before the next stage of my trip.
Photos
View (and if you want use) all my photographs from Byblos.
Accommodation and Activities in Lebanon
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