Lebanon > The last day in Byblos

The last day has arrived. Hans leaves for the airport this morning by taxi; he has a different flight. Rami takes us on a tour through Byblos, showing us the thousands-year-old city walls. Walking along the wall, we make our way to the beach. The clear blue water contrasts beautifully with the bay. The beach consists mainly of coarse pebbles. To the left of the beach lies Byblos’ small, picturesque harbor. Thanks to the natural inlet, Byblos was already an advantageous and strategic location in ancient times. We end the walk in the souq. The vendors stand around their stalls, looking rather bored, waiting for customers. Many stalls target tourists, but in between them are a surprising number of shoe stalls. We sit down at a small terrace in the shade and order something to drink. The weather today is fine but oppressively warm. In the old town, there is also a fossil museum, which might be fun to visit. Admission turns out to be free — and we quickly understand why. After a short explanation about the fossils, we end up in the shop. The fossils were found in the mountains at an altitude of 800 meters. Sometimes a fossil splits in two, producing a positive and a negative specimen — mirror images of each other. The fossils are millions of years old. After barely five minutes of explanation, we are ushered into the room where fossils are for sale. The “museum” concept feels a bit misleading. We politely thank them for the information and walk back to the beach. At a terrace, we look out over the sea. By now it’s much busier with beachgoers.

Lebanon - Fishing boats lie in the harbor of Byblos

Shortly after one o’clock, it’s time for lunch. In the souq, we find a nice little restaurant. Just to be sure, I count my remaining dollars — the end is in sight. My Lebanese currency is already completely spent. Funny to think I’ve burned through nine million in just one week. I order a shawarma platter and a beer. Some fellow travelers go for wine. When their glasses are almost empty, the owner comes over to refill them. “I hate empty glasses,” he says with a smile. Before I know it, a new bottle of Almaza beer is placed in front of me — on the house. Back at the hotel, I change into clean clothes for the flight home. The luggage is loaded into the bus, and in forty-five minutes we drive to Beirut. The oncoming traffic heading out of the city is badly congested — something we might run into ourselves later on the way to the airport. First, we stop at the Serenade Hotel, where we stayed earlier. Suzanne says her goodbyes here; her flight is tomorrow morning, and she will stay at the hotel. In the lobby, we thank Rami and Allah for their enthusiastic guidance and hand over a tip we collected. They, in turn, thank the group for a great week. Tonight, the new Djoser group will arrive on the same flight, starting their own tour. Rami also has bad news: it seems the flight from Amsterdam has left with a delay of over an hour, which means our flight will also be delayed.

Lebanon - In the morning the trade has yet to start in Byblos

It doesn’t get better. At five o’clock, we head for the airport. Beirut’s streets are busy, and progress is slow. Allah drives assertively, pushing the bus into gaps in the waiting traffic — here, the right of the strongest seems to apply. Once we reach the highway, traffic flows smoothly. Before long, I step out in front of the terminal building. I give Rami a hug and Allah a firm handshake before heading inside. There’s a long line at the check-in counter, but I wait my turn patiently. Afterward, I pass baggage control and passport control. Nothing is yet shown on the boards about the delay, but online the inbound flight is definitely marked as late. Just in case, I inform my taxi driver in the Netherlands tonight that I might arrive later — once we take off, I won’t be able to. I take a seat at the gate. At some point, everyone is told to leave the gate area. A long line forms in the hallway while tickets are checked. I’m also randomly tested for drugs; the customs officer swabs my bag. While doing so, he tells me he’s an Ajax supporter. I fail to convert him to Feyenoord, but we agree at least on not supporting PSV. The test comes back clean, and I’m allowed through. Everyone starts lining up at the boarding gate, but there’s still no plane. I stay seated and wait patiently. A little after nine, the aircraft lands and the passengers disembark. Boarding begins with row five. I’m in row three but, strangely, am not allowed to board yet. From what I can gather, they seem to be starting from the middle rows. I’m not sure why it matters whether it’s row three or five. When another staff member takes over boarding checks, I offer my ticket again — this time I’m allowed on. On the plane, I strike up a conversation with a young man who has been doing volunteer work in Beirut, helping with IT automation.