BOMBS in BEIRUT: Lebanon Road Trip Part I

Asheville Afield
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Do we really need a reason? No…but this is definitely a legitimate one. I’ve learned from the locals that when bombs go off in Beirut you do one of three things: Start drinking heavily (even MORE heavily than usual). Get the hell out of town. Both. We had planned to go into the Beka’a Valley West of Beirut but due to the deteriorating security situation on the Syrian border, my Dutch friend Saskia and I decide to head North to the beach at Batroun. Here are the 21 steps to a successful road trip OUT of BEIRUT: Rent a peanut sized red Hyundai from a lovely man named Mahdi:

Say a last warm goodbye to Francis, the awesome Liberian maintenance man at your hotel who tells you in his sing-songy voice that he is wishing you “protection” on your journey:

Jump into bumper to bumper traffic and insert the only CD you were able to borrow for the trip….. strange German gypsy folk music produced in Moscow. Be unable to control the volume so that you are now the loudest car on the road and everyone begins to yell at you in bad German and praise the German World Cup team. (they are quite popular here) Decide to clarify who exactly you support once and for all!

Buy a Brasil flag off a guy casually standing in the middle of the highway. Pay way too much for it then dive into the back and immediately install it on the passenger’s side rear window.

Begin to make plans for the rest of the trip:

Talk about men, sex, heartbreak and confusion. Wish we both didn’t know so much about these topics. Come to the conclusion that marriage is kinda passe then notice that almost EVERY single billboard you have passed is for WEDDINGS! (followed closely by plastic surgery and jewelry). Apparently, it’s not passe in Lebanon.

Put your bare legs up on the dashboard cuz it’s 45 celsius and you need a fresh breeze you know where. Cause quite a stir at the first of five military check points.

Stop to buy a HOLLAND flag for the other side of the car and matching Brasil and Holland head scarves. Put that shit on ASAP! Look SUPER FLY….

Get waved right through ALL remaining checkpoints for the rest of the trip for the following reasons in order: Being girls, being blonde girls, having WC car paraphernalia, wearing hideous WC doo-rags and being into it, smiling and waving and screaming “Braaasiiil” “Hollanda” simultaneously while passing through….slowing down just enough for them to see that we have excellent taste in ankle jewelry. Arrive HERE:

Pierre and Friends Beach Club. Drink lot’s of this:

Continue on to the Baracuda Beach club to interview men about their sexual/romantic lives in Lebanon for a new screenplay. Have them be so into it that they insist that all their friends get interviewed too. Get WAY more information than you bargained for! (stay tuned for this in another post) Laugh a LOT while simultaneously being shocked and disgusted and, weirdly, charmed. Decide to sleep in this sexy tent under the stars:

Watch the sexy tent get flooded and battered with rocks by an enormous wave. Almost drown in the same wave. Emerge bloody and out of breath from the rocky ocean floor with one boob hanging out, askew. Don’t realize your nipple is exposed until you’ve already had a conversation with an accountant and his friend about how dangerous the swimming conditions are. Sheepishly put your tit back in place and pretend nobody noticed. Watch the sunset while drinking more beers and eating ice cold carrot sticks and salty pistachios.