My Diary Travelogues | The Levant | 1996 | May 23 - May 26 | Part 5 – The Return to Europe

Hi Friends, this is the fifth and final part of an account of some of my travels from 1996. I kept diaries for many years and they are now enabling me to revisit the past and bring it back to life on the pages of Steemit. It is a most enjoyable undertaking for me.

If you are just joining in, you may first wish to read:
Travelogues | The Levant | 1996 | May 05 to May 08 | Part 1 – Egypt
Travelogues | The Levant | 1996 | May 09 to May 15 | Part 2 – Jordan
Travelogues | The Levant | 1996 | May 15 - May 18 | Part 3 – Lebanon
Travelogues | The Levant | 1996 | May 19 - May 22 | Part 4 – Lebanon

If you have been following along from the start, I really appreciate your company and am very grateful for your extended attention. It has been a pleasure to have you along 💚 👊

Namaste.

Thursday, 23rd May 1996 | 18:10 | Beirut (Lebanon)

Had expected to make it to Syria today, and for the first time felt what it is like to be a refugee puked up at the border you're trying to get through!

I gave up waiting at the pension yesterday and found my way to another called 'Funduq Al-Shams' – Sun Hotel, where the only other guest was Colm, a 30-year old American whom I got to know and like over the course of the evening. Went for a walk up the hill with him and watched the light fade over the town of Baalbeck, with its ruins and pro-Hizbollah population. Returned, got a few beers and talked until 1am. He was on his way to Syria too and said he'd wait a couple of hours in the morning whilst I visit the ruins, and we'd then get a Damascus-bound service taxi together.

So I got up at 8.30am, spent an hour or so until 10.30 in the ruins. Again I had the entire place to myself – just the dead, and the lizards amongst the old stones. Magnificent place! At the exit they had some kind of a photo exhibition set up, introduced by two large Hizbollah flags adorned with guns. The theme was Israeli and US-aggression towards the people of Lebanon; and more so those of the recently bombed villages of the South. There were pictures with emotive (in English) and condemnatory (Arabic and English) slogans, referring to people and places destroyed by the attacks. But it was also an invitation to armed resistance and incitement to join forces with the Party of God! There was a caricature of Warren Christopher¹ holding a scroll, his shadow falling on the wall behind where there was a bullet-ridden door leading to Lebanon. His shadow was that of an Israeli with the Star of David. The shadow of the scroll – the peace document, was a gun.

Got a Damascus-bound taxi out and reached the border by 12.30ish. Colm didn't have a visa either but had recently been in Syria and was hoping for at least a transit visa. The Lebanese guards stamped our passports and promised to let us back in should we be turned away. We got into the car and drove the 5km to the Syrian side.

After queueing up nervously, Colm got a transit visa and I was turned away without being given a reason. I showed them my old passport with the almost 4-year old Syrian visa² and said that I hadn't money to leave Lebanon by air and that I wasn't even sure of being able to get back into Lebanon. But the man wasn't really listening. Though it was useless and I knew it, I stood there asking for at least a 10-hour transit visa, enough to get me to Turkey. Finally they took my two passports and escorted me to the border post, basically showing me the door!

Got a lift with a decent Syrian taxi driver who took me to the Lebanese side and Hamdullillah³-ed with me in commiseration. The Lebanese kindly cancelled my exit stamp and I was back where I started, only more decided in that I knew I'd have to get a flight out to Europe – Amsterdam, on Sunday. People around were sympathetic, one even offering to get me a job as I had said that I might have to ask the British embassy for money to get back (true only if I couldn't leave within a few days, or if the $275 flight were not available). Got a service taxi back to Beirut and cheered up with the driver and friendly fellow passengers, with whom I found myself talking in fairly fluent Arabic; and the excellent view over the hills.

Went to the travel agent, gave him a $40 deposit and he promised to check it out tomorrow morning so I'll return around 9am. Calculated that I'll have 140DM⁴, £20 in traveller's cheques and a £5 note when I get to Amsterdam. If I fly Turkish Airlines (which I want to as it'll give me 2 days here in which I'll try and get some more of the essay written), I'll pay $275 and leave here at 5.25am (ie spend the night at the airport and hopefully get a window-seat and a view from above) – Istanbul arrive 7.30, depart 9.30 – Amsterdam 12.30. Spend a night there, smoke some pot and hitch down to Heidelberg to look for work. If no seats on Turkish, Sat morning 4am with Hungarian, getting to Amsterdam at 9.30, but $10 more expensive. Also I'll have approx $27 ($5 for the bed) to last me till I leave. So I'm alright!
<sub>1. US Secretary of State - coordinating Middle-East peace talks.
2. The image shows the 1992 Syrian visa in my old, expired passport. It also shows the Lebanese exit and re-entry stamps.
3. ...used by me as a verb: to declare "Praise be to God!"
4. Deutsch Mark - currency of Germany before adoption of the Euro.</sub>

Saturday, 25th May 1996 | 23:40 | Beirut Airport (Lebanon)

Have over five hours to wait for the flight to leave. After being put onto the waiting list for Amsterdam, and indeed waiting for confirmation, the old travel agent and I decided to go for Frankfurt – so at 1pm today, I got my $275 ticket with Turkish Airlines: Beirut 05.25 – Istanbul arrive 07.25, depart 08.35 – Frankfurt 10.40am.

Beirut airport is a simple, unpretentious affair, probably unchanged since the 70s, before the civil-war. There is a straight road in from the city, terminating right in front of the shabby building with construction going on and bullet holes still in the steel screens. Security & Customs were easy and laid-back. They went through all my stuff, chatting in Arabic and asking all sorts of good-natured but subtly interrogatory questions in order to establish my authenticity – like singing the words of a Hindi song and asking what they meant. I'm in the departure area, simple enough, with names of all the airlines up, people smoking, mechanical (non-electric) scales, wooden benches for waiting passengers and apparently not even a café or a coffee machine! Ages to wait!

Yesterday I had got my dictionaries out and was trying to get some more of my essay written when I heard a distinctively foreign voice in the pension, and Ivan – the biker doing research for a guide book on Jordan, Lebanon and Syria, appeared. Good to see him! Went for a walk along the seafront at sunset and bought a bottle of Arak and water which we sat drinking by the shore, talking for around 3 hours. Very drunk and smoking lots of fags. He's a great fellow! Amazing – the 3 other travellers I've spent time with here – Ivan, Carl and Colm – have all been very likeable and easy to get on with.

Slight hangover this morning and after sorting out my ticket, I slept for another 3 hours. I had taught Ivan Arabic-dominoes¹ yesterday, which, having a chess-mind, he picked up quickly and we had another few games today.

He gave me a lift to the airport on his bike and dropped me off at around 11.15pm.
_{1. See image for details.}

Sunday, 26th May 1996 | 04:05 | still at Beirut Airport (Lebanon)

Just checked in and cleared 'general security' – very lax indeed and, as I had been talking to the security personnel for an hour or so earlier, they gave me no hassle. One even talked of trying for a British Council scholarship and took my address in Scotland in case he made it! Got a window seat too!

Lots and lots of poster pics of Assad¹ around the airport, and pictures and political posters about the civil-war and the general situation in Lebanon. I asked the Customs officers if I could take one of the posters, explaining that I was studying Arabic in Scotland and wanted it for the department – to raise general awareness about Lebanon. He asked me quite searchingly why and who I was and what for etc, but gave it to me², and one of them even neatly snipped off the sellotaped ends. There is an interior lounge and usual duty-free area, fairly plush. Wrote a letter to Ibrahim³ in Arabic.

...later | 08.25 | on board, Istanbul Airport (Turkey)

10 mins till take off. Already feel the change from the Arab world with lots of Frankfurt-bound tourists and Turks, and smoking prohibitions in the departure lounges! The proximity to Europe and all it represents!

Beautiful view of the sunrise over the Lebanese mountains just after take off from Beirut. then the Mediterranean, a bit of Cyprus followed by the Turkish mainland. Only 1hr 35mins to Istanbul, another three or so to Frankfurt and we're done! There at 10.30 local time, which means I could be in Heidelberg by 1 or 2pm. I imagine I'll be checking out old Schmitthelm⁴ for jobs tomorrow. The Arab world and my 6-month stay there will all seem so far away and distant.

...later | 14.00 | Heidelberg (Germany)

Just got into Heidelberg 10 minutes ago and had a rather interesting experience on one of the two lifts down from the airport.

Landed in Frankfurt with a great view over the city and surroundings. All very strange! 10 months away from Germany, and, apart from those two weeks in Britain, away from Europe altogether⁵! The Autobahn⁶ runs just outside the airport and I met a friendly elderly Czech who spoke a bit of German and had been stuck for a while, without means financial or transportational. I gave him some cigs and 10DM. After waiting an hour or so in a light mood – a positive hangover from the Arab world which I hope stays with me, I got a lift to the first motorway service-station with a Russian.

Had a piss and sat smoking a cig when a Frenchman asked me in German if I wanted a lift. He then offered to take me to Heidelberg as it was only a slight detour for him. He seemed very interested in my story and I was in quite a talkative mood – all in German, telling him about myself, what I'd been doing, hoped to do etc.

After some time had passed with me yakking away, he revealed that he was a journalist working for ZDF (German TV) and making a programme about hitch-hikers. He showed me where the camera was hidden – beneath the legs of a cuddly toy placed on the dashboard, and pointed out the two cars following behind with monitoring equipment. He informed me that the camera had been on all the while and, if I objected, he wouldn't use the material. I said I didn't mind, but inevitably became more self-conscious after discovering what the score really was. He had got me to recite a poem in Hindi – I gave him Prarthna⁷; and to talk about my experiences in the Arab world; opinions about things etc. All done very professionally! I did feel slightly used but had no real problem with it as such, the only consequence being to cool my enthusiasm. He drove me into Heidelberg though, with the two cars containing the recording equipment following behind. He even paid me 50DM which I refused until he said that the ZDF studios were paying. I also saw all their fancy video and audio equipment. He has obviously done numerous such interviews, travelling up and down the country picking up hitchers and talking to them. He said it'd be broadcast in the summer and he took K's⁸ Edinburgh address. Maybe some good may come of the programme – raise public awareness of hitchers as 'normal', and possibly more interesting and complex than most of the people who despise them! It also made me think about fate and chance, for my mood then was certanly conducive to talking about myself; and also the way I got the 50DM after having helped out the Czech with the tenner!

Tried phoning Peter and Regine, no answer at either place! Perhaps they've gone away because it's Sunday, who knows! I'll hang around and try again later, otherwise the Grünes Laub⁹.
<sub>1. Hafez Al-Assad of Syria, father of current President Bashar Al-Assad.
2. I have searched for this poster – to photograph and post here, but think I must have given it to the Arabic dept. at St. Andrews University after all 😌
3. ..in Cairo, in whose house I had rented a room in Nov 1995, and with whom I became very good friends. I had said goodbye to him and his sister, Nariman, at the very beginning of the first of these five diary accounts.
4. A 'Federn und Metallwaren' factory where Bike (a close frend from university) and I had worked for a couple of months the previous year, filling-up and emptying-out crates of metal springs from 6am till 2pm.
5. Aug 1995, off to India | 2 weeks early Nov, in Scotland | Nov 1995, off to Egypt.
6. German motorway / freeway - with NO speed limit btw – at least at during my hitch-hiking days 🚘
7. ...by Sumitranandan Pant. I looked online for an English translation to link to but couldn't find one. It is a poem I had leant at school, when I was 9 or 10. Somehow I've always retained it!
8. My sister 😇
9. Gasthaus Grünes Laub, where Bike and I had rented a cheap room the previous year. Now (2018), permanently closed according to a Google search.</sub>

Epilogue:

• The 3000-word essay: I never really got much more of it done over the course of that summer. I waited until a few weeks before the deadline in October before I finally pulled my finger out! My submission was simply a summarized account, in Arabic, of what I had done over the course of the previous year 😎
• I never got to see the TV footage of barge-the-hitchhiker. A few years after it had taken place, a German friend – 'D', from Tübingen, told me that her friend had seen me in a TV feature on hitchhiking. So it had been aired after all and I was on it! This friend of D's had previously met me when I had gone to Tübingen to visit her, and had therefore recognised me on the screen. I would really love to find it online - tried once but couldn't. All I know is that it was aired on ZDF in the summer of 1996!
• The remainder of my summer was spent in Germany, working. I found reacclimatising to Europe extremely difficult, especially at a psychological level. It was as if all previous concepts had been flattened and I had to start all over again. The cracks became more pronounced and I entered into a psychosis which came into full bloom that summer. I had no idea WTF was going on. It lasted until the following year – intense agony inside, functionality outside. This is all self-diagnosed btw and I have had two such periods since. I have now made considerable sense of them all and believe - as does the author of the quote below - that breakdown actually leads to breakthrough.

  "We are bemused and crazed creatures, strangers to our true selves, to one another, and to the spiritual and material world - mad, even, from an ideal standpoint we can glimpse but not adopt."
  _{R.D.Laing - The Politics of Experience and The Bird of Paradise.}