Last night I dreamt I went to Lebanon again. It has been hard adjusting. Sometimes I wake up in the very middle of the night, I put my blue suede slippers on, my yellow sunglasses, and my jacket, and I head out of my door – Sky Bar bound. Sky Bar is a place of dreams. The crowd is attractive – or as Pitbull says, “In Lebanon, Yeah the Women are Bomb”. The shots flow. The lights glow. Fire reaches for the sky. You look over the edge of the bar into the Mediterranean Sea replica watches uk. They call it the Sky Bar, because it loiters restlessly at what seems the closest place to heaven. As the blurriness clears from my eyes, I realize that I am not actually bound for Sky Bar. I am sleep walking again. I am in One Western Avenue. My heart sinks.
I have been back 83 days and seventeen hours as I write this. I can’t say that it has got easier.
I go back to bed, and I remember it all: The pre-ordered taxis took us to our hotel, where our itineraries waited for us. Every single waking hour had been planned. My room every night, as I recall it so vividly, looked out onto the Eastern most part of the Mediterranean. But I didn’t spend much time there.
I spent time at the clubs – the world famous White and Sky Bar, at B018 (an old bunker with a retracting ceiling that allows you to party as the sunrises), and Music Hall. I spent time wine tasting at the Ksara vineyards. And visiting the famous ruins of Baalbek (where the Romans used to worship Jupiter, Venus, and Dionysus) and Byblos (the oldest continuously-inhabited city in the world). I spent time learning about a civilization that pre-dates recorded history, and listening to the Head of the Central Bank tell us firsthand how the country would endure many centuries to come.
I spent time walking amongst the giant Cedar Trees that carpet much of the country. And standing beneath huge Stalactites at the Jeita Grotto. I spent time partying on the beaches. And in boats. Swimming in little secret caves. I spent time covered in Moet. Bathed in blistering sun. I spent time walking around the Souks. And eating Mezze. I spent my time getting home at 7am and getting back on a bus at 9am.
I feel that I speak for every one of the one-hundred and twenty of us ECs on the trip when I say: Here’s to Lebanon. Here’s to Beirut. Here’s to the trip of a lifetime replica breitling. Here’s to a trek that beat all treks. Here’s to Nadim. To Georges. To Karl. To Elie. To Bassem. To Dalia. To Youssef. To Maya. To Ghida. To Jad. To Rawia. To Karen. To Hussein. Here’s to those crazy Lebanese who made our summer.
If you travel to one place in your life (and I hope you go to more), go to Lebanon. In the meantime though, should any of you see me, late at night, wandering around, dressed in my best, asking where Sky Bar is, take it easy on me and help me back to my room.