Here we are, the newest of newcomers to the oldest of cities, Byblos, the mother of books. We have a little flat just on the edge of the old city – I say the edge, but running along our street is a sort of wide ditch between two roads and in it are the remains of Roman columns. Byblos, the old Byblos rather than the newer Jbeil, is perhaps the most touristy part of Lebanon yet; there are tat shops, touts hovering outside restaurants and a seemingly infinite number of nearly identical over-priced joints with logos in Phoenician writing. This does mean that the food is less than ideal but at least we have a rudimentary kitchen and there is a falafel shop around the corner. The flat itself is a little generic and furnished from a checklist, so there are, for instance, two sofas at right angles that are soft but shaped like pews, with tall backs and narrow seats. There is a very large pot and a very small pan. That sort of thing. But it is infinitely cleaner and more functional than the Beirut place, and the air is cleaner, the windows open, the balcony is usable, and it feels a bit like being in Karachi. So I like it.
Yesterday we stopped at the Jeita Grotto along the way. I had been rather sceptical, thinking it would be an over-developed, over-crowded wonderland. But decided to go after all, first when my brother (who visited Lebanon a decade ago) urged me to despite his terror of caves, and second, when I looked at TripAdvisor and saw literally hundreds of five star reviews with a scattering of four stars from evident half wits. It was absolutely worth it. There were a few handful of other people there, but with some judicious pacing we had it to ourselves. The upper grotto was a wonderland of stalactites and strange formations, and sweeping chasms opening onto sunlit water. The lower grotto was more modest, but it had a subterraneaan river that we were briefly ferried around by boat. Very well kept, five stars. And just the thing as the previous night we’d listened to the chapter of The Lord of the Rings in which Gimli describes to Legolas the wonders of the caves at Helm’s Deep.
In the evening we wandered through the old part of the town. The crowds had ebbed on Sunday night, so it felt a little tired. Honey coloured stone, crumbling columns, iron grills, cobblestones, and then opening into a small harbour lined with boats and a crusader castle in the midst of them. Lovely.
I have lived in Bloomsbury and I never got tired of it. It’ll be interesting to see if the excitement of living here will ebb. I suspect not, though the minor annoyances, such as touts and crowds and lack of good dining options might grate.