I’ve been to dozens of cities for work; I’ve seen airports, hotels, exhibition halls and have been to nice hotels. Sometimes I’ve had enough time to visit the city, play tourist for a bit. But many other times I’ve either stayed at the hotel or went out to places I already knew, restaurants I’d already eaten in. It’s safer and more practical, especially when traveling alone, but of course doesn’t make for a mega-interesting trip. Same same every time.

The magic word is friends. If you manage to make friends, or even good acquaintances it makes all the difference when traveling to any country or city. With local friends you can actually experience a place! Instead of hotel bar you’re taken to a say popular roof top bar, instead of the hotel restaurant, you’re having your dinner in a neighborhood place that a tourist wouldn’t even find.

Over the years I have made friends in various places but my new friends in Beirut have made the biggest difference so far. Although fascinating, Beirut was a bit alien to me my first time there, the masses of people, cars, languages on the street overwhelmed me a bit and so from a social point of view, this was not the greatest visit.

Second time around – much better including clubbing to the early hours. This time – great! Sitting on the rooftop at “Iris” with a view over the city, the ocean and the mountains beyond and the glittering lights of the city, some sort of rose-water cocktail in hand – absolutely fabulous. And of course yummy food and nice conversation instead of never-changing hotel food and a book, sitting alone at a table for 2. Or having Shisha and Lebanese Mezze in a neighborhood restaurant with a group of other friends who in turn brought more people – just as fabulous.

This is when you start feeling the transition from tourist to “almost local” – when you experience an evening out just like the locals would experience it, not in a hotspot straight out of the tourist guidebook, but in a “normal” place. Love it!

I haven’t even done any touristy things in Lebanon yet – maybe next time if my friends don’t have time for me… then again… naahhhh!

Place d'Etoiles, Beirut

Preparation is everything so when I knew that I could not put the trip off any longer, I tried to educate myself a bit to see beyond the Abaya. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is the third-largest country in the Middle East and the world’s largest Oil Exporter. The Kingdom as it is now exists since 1932 and 75% of their inland revenues go into the welfare state, yet Amnesty International has the country on constant watch for violation of human rights. Saudi Arabia is an absolute monarchy to date. There are no political parties and the kings rule according to the Sharia and the Qur’an and Amnesty International condemns the use of the death penalty for a wide range of crimes, such as murder, rape but also witchcraft and sorcery. Yes… witchcraft and sorcery. Women’s rights are basically non-existent, they need a male guardian (father, son, brother or husband) basically for every activity outside the home and only very few women have risen to the top of some professions (medical doctor for example), which is a constant concern to Human Rights Watch who classified Saudi Women to be treated as children all their lives. Daily life is governed by Islamic observance (i.e. prayers five times per day) and the observance of modesty in dress code and other activities. There are only few cinemas in Saudi Arabia and art is not encouraged, literature hindered by censorship. Poetry, dance and music however are part of tribal tradition and songs are sung collectively as part of poetry. Sports – for men only – are popular especially soccer.

Although the Kingdom supports the Arab League and the UN, the perception is still that Saudi funds radical Islamist groups like Al Qaeda and the Taliban, which has made relations to the west difficult in the past years.

This all sounds very alien to a Western European woman like me. Getting a Visa is usually very difficult but surprise surprise, the company managed to get me a 3 month multiple re-entry Visa without any trouble, so I set out to buy a nice Abaya and planned my trip. I had to travel from Iran directly to Saudi via Kuwait and the plane from Kuwait to Riyadh was full of Indian laborers, a few Middle Eastern business travelers and some American Soldiers and Engineers. Despite the limited lifestyle Saudi still attracts a lot of expats, since the pay is very good and they usually life in compounds (neighborhoods) for Expats only where bars and cinemas exist and women can meet each other. As family places go it’s a good place to live as family is everything. Western women however do struggle with the rules of not being allowed to drive, so if the family cannot afford a driver, or a driver isn’t provided by the company, they are stuck at home until their husbands get home.

Upon arrival in Saudi I stood in a “ladies line” at immigration among similarly dressed women. I couldn’t tell where they were from; the Saudi women were all standing in line for the nationals. I was waiting around, wondering if my driver would lose his patience and leave again, when one of the immigration officers noticed me and motioned me to the front of a another line to be processed first. Gleeful I stepped up to the window and was surprised when the officer addressed me in Arabic. I told him in English I was German and did not speak Arabic yet and he only believed me when I produced my passport. He told me he figured I was Lebanese or Jordanian. I smiled and understood that the preferential treatment had resulted in them thinking an Arabic woman did not have to wait with the riffraff or some such.

As before the experience with meeting actual Saudi nationals was much different from what you read. They are lovely people and hospitality is again paramount. My driver was concerned I would leave his country disappointed but from my point of view the visit left nothing to be desired. Everyone was very friendly and helpful, the company had put me up in a Ladies only hotel where I could take off the Abaya in front of the all-female staff and so the visit was less limiting than expected. The hotel was fabulous, with a spa, designer rooms, nice restaurant and friendly staff. Our driver assured me he would take me anywhere I wanted; show me the sights so I would keep a good memory of ‘his’ country. I did not see a lot of Riyadh itself, but the first impressions where. Lots of sand, lots of monochromatic scenery as they don’t spend as much money on keeping the desert green as they do in Dubai. Less high-rise buildings than Dubai but lots of construction to remedy that. The same amount of American fast food chains and lots of little shops along the road (car repair, furniture, food) and big malls and glassy office buildings. If there hadn’t been many more people in traditional dress and less women in the street I could have been anywhere in the Middle East.

To me the visit was okay and I don’t mind going there again for work. I don’t mind wearing and Abaya for a few days, but I have to say, I don’t think I could live there. It is just to Alien to the modern European mind, especially when you are a woman and have to work. The rules are just to stifling even if the people I’ve me were lovely.

On a funnier note, speaking of stifling. On my second night in the hotel I was woken by raucous party noise at 1 am. I was wondering WHAT was going on? I was in Saudi, for crying out loud. I checked the hallway and asked a group of giggling young local women, they were on a hen night and of course the Ladies only hotel was the perfect place. They promised to keep it down in the hallway and when I was back under my lovely soft covers in my very comfortable bed I had to smile to myself. I certainly had not expected to be woken by partying noises in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia…

So… that’s the historic background. Needless to say, when we scheduled our trip to Iran I did feel a bit uneasy. No one can really tell what’s going on in the country and one has to get their information from Wikipedia and the news. Even here in the Middle East, I feel the regime in Iran is universally mistrusted if not feared. It is just too volatile.

First thing I did before the trip was to call the American Border Control hotline to find out whether my trip there could endanger my holiday in the US later this year. They said no, but I still had our company draft a letter for me, confirming that Iran was part of the territory I am responsible for.

Women in Iran don’t have to wear a full Abaya (yet) but have to hide their hair and arms… so headscarf and long sleeves. For visitors, too. I traveled with a female colleague and friend and that was great because for the first time in a long time I felt overwhelmed. Claustrophobic by having to tie a scarf around my neck my first reaction was “what the heck?”. After endless waiting at the Visa counter because the officials had no idea about their own new Visa processes we ended up buying a Tourist Visa for 50 Euros (!!), stood in line at passport control only to be growled at by an official who preferred to watch a Soap Opera on TV rather than stamping our passports. We could have put in a postage stamp instead of a Visa for all he cared.

Our local distributor was waiting for us, cab idling at the curb and immediately the mood – my mood – changed. My experience so far has always been that the people in any one country are very helpful and friendly – no matter what their political circumstance. I wasn’t disappointed. Every single person I met on this trip was helpful, hospitable and fell over themselves to make our stay as comfortable as possible.

The hotel was a huge disappointment, old, worn, the kind of place where you’re glad you brought your flip-flops. The next morning at breakfast I knew what it reminded me off. The GDR before the re-unification. Over the course of the day I learned that day-to-day life was quite similar to that in the GDR. Since the embargo hits the common man most, everyone sort of makes do with whatever they have. Middle Eastern hospitality is paramount and so we had to have tea, cakes, fresh fruit and sweets at every single meeting. Saying “no” is not an option as your host doesn’t really get offended but simply won’t take “no” for an answer. If I had to eat like this every day, I’d be doubling  my size in no time.

We were invited to the private vacation home of our distributor there. His weekend place is about 45 minutes outside Tehran and has a view of the mountains and a big lake. Beautiful. He outdid himself in making that evening special for us, anything that our hearts desired he attempted to get us. Food, drinks, Shisha, music on the balcony – it was a wonderful evening and we made new friends.

We spent 2 days in Iran, meeting customers and both our distributors there and found out that the people in this country are amazing. They live their lives with constant insecurity over what their regime is gonna do next and though there is a certain “caution” in everyone, no one really appears desperate. The conservatives among the regime want to turn back time, alcohol is forbidden, women will soon be back in Abayas and they are building a shrine to Ayatollah Khomeini outside Tehran.

The overall motto is  “We used to pray in our homes and live outside, now we pray outside and live in our homes.”

Now if I can travel to the USA without any hitches, I might consider going back for a private trip. Isfahan and Shiraz are supposed to be beautiful.

A view from the hills outside Tehran

Truth is though that one does get used to the heat. When you live in temperatures around 20+ celsius all the time, anything below will seem like freezing and the range above becomes sort of “transparent”. Let’s see if I am that non-chalant when it goes up to 50 in July and August and the  humidity sets in

Apart from the fact that  all of a sudden almost everyone of my German friends has better things to do than to visit me, I’ve been telling them that July / August are definitely NOT the months to visit. The travel industry does everything to make it attractive but living here I’d say no. Yes the deals are incredible and you’ll pay under 100Euros per night for a 5-Star hotel and malls and shopping centers offer great discounts but really it’s not the time to appreciate what Dubai has to offer, especially since Ramadan is also almost round the corner which does restrict life during daylight hours. The Iftar meals are a sight for sore eyes though as lots of restaurants offer specials. Yet – if this your annual vacation I would not recommend it.

I guess perception is everything. 40 degrees don’t seem like much when  you’re in 30+ all the time. A 99Euro per night rate at the Atlantis may seem like a great deal until you realize you can’t even go to the beach in 48 degrees celsius and 90% humidity. Or just step into a restaurant outside the hotel during Ramadan.

So I am going to enjoy the last “cool” days in Dubai until summer arrives and ponder a bit more about perception…

I’ve traveled to this region several times before and have been living here for six months now so it did NOT come as a big surprise that the shuttle driver from my hotel had spelled my name incorrectly and we ended up looking for each other for half an hour. And what a nice surprise this hotel turned out to be. Directly on the Mediterranean Sea, close to Beirut’s famous Pigeon Rock my room had a view of the sea – with palm trees on the beach – and the still snow-covered mountains in the distance. I love nice hotels.

The memory of my last trip – with crazy traffic in this city – still fresh in my mind I set off the next day for our office with time to spare only to get stuck with a taxi driver who didn’t know where to go and had to be told by me, the German person who was visiting Beirut for the second time. Since he didn’t believe me I ended up calling my local colleague once again for directions at the exact same moment when I recognized our building. Oh well, that’s how things go.

Having traveled again for work the days flew by with meetings, trainings and a congress for which we’d planned all sorts of activities. This trip had its perks though as in I wasn’t there alone but with other colleagues so I didn’t have to spend all my evenings alone but actually had people to go out with.

And out we went – one evening dinner and drinks at the hotel bar only because we did still want to be “good”, we did have to spend eight hours on our feet at the congress after all. This time I noticed even more how much of the life is happening in the evening. Our hotel was located in Raouche District and every night people were out strolling along the Corniche. Couples, groups of young men and women, families with kids, out till late in the evening no matter if it was Tuesday or Friday evening. Traffic on the Corniche felt like Friday night Dubai traffic every night and Friday night in Beirut we took almost 2 hours to cross town – a ride which should normally have taken us roughly 35 minutes.

Friday night. Party night. On my first trip I’d had a customer dinner and had barely noticed the hordes of people populating downtown. Our team had organized a soccer tournament against our distributor – no details on scores are given here – and a group of us went out to dinner afterward to celebrate / drown our sorrow. All very civilized. And then one of my friends received a call from other friends who were just around the corner at “Buddha Bar”. Needless to say we all went.

Lucky for me our local friends knew the bouncer so my jeans – admittedly cool boyfriend-jeans – and ballerina look was accepted and so the three of us, Dutch, German and Egyptian joined our Lebanese friends at the bar. The place was heaving. I knew Beirut is famous for its night-life but wow. I hadn’t been out clubbing in Germany for years as I felt a) too old among teens and twenty-somethings and b) felt too old for the moods of bouncers.

The place is amazing, huge signature Buddha sitting in a Georgian, theater-like place. All wide staircases, red-velvet draped walls and huge chandeliers. People dancing on tables. People sipping champagne, cocktails, beer. Age and dress-code don’t really seem to matter there. I was guessing twenty-one to sixty with lots of fifty-plus men and their twenty-five year old arm-candy. Handsome fifty-plus men, dressed in designer suits. Gorgeous girls and women, dressed in little cocktail dresses and skinny jeans and crop tops but also the usual number of “refurbished women” as my Dutch colleague called the countless formerly beautiful victims of plastic surgery. It’s a Middle Eastern/Lebanese phenomenon. Plastic surgery. And lots of these women would have looked just as great without it, if not better. Mostly better to be honest, because there are loads of beautiful women around. And beautiful men…

Anyway I digress. What a party! I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. The Lebanese DO know how to simply enjoy! I’d noticed it in the restaurants we’d been to where food is just “fun” and now again at the club. The whole atmosphere is just different, less controlled, more enthusiastic. Everyone dancing, drinking, jumping, singing along, shaking their hips to the mix of Arabic tunes and techno beats. Great vibes! So much fun to just laugh and dance again! And although you are among the beautiful crowd no one really gives you a second glance unless you’re really good at shaking that booty. The six of us had a ball, way too much fun and tequila and left when the lights went on around four in the morning – I guess it was around four, it was still dark outside. We piled into one car to hit an all night hot-dog stand. And even that hot-dog was delish! And very necessary to soak up some of the tequila.

We did reach the hotel in one piece and three hours later the night was over again and the last day of our congress dawned… oh well… that’s life I  guess, but I can’t wait to experience night life in Beirut again. And I still have this song in my head “Ya Hawa…Beirut”… the dance version of course…

The Mediterranean

But – like with everything that’s become “trendy” – its also ultimately a bunch of beautiful people out to see and be seen and needless to say, there’s all sorts of “chill-out” lounges and beach places here in Dubai, including Buddha bar and yes… they are mostly filled with the beautiful crowd. A couple of years ago Buddha Bar didn’t even let a bunch of single guys enter… just couples and single women, which in my opinion throws off the balance totally, but hey.

It’s not really my scene, I have to admit. Most of the time I cannot be bothered to get all dressed up only to end up amongst people I’ve got nothing in common with. And chilling out is the last thing you do at these “hip” places, it’s all about competition again, probably more so here in Dubai. It’s all about which outfit one wears – and for chilling out I imagine a floaty dress or maybe white linen trousers and a floaty/strappy top and flip-flops, pretty flip-fl0ps but nevertheless comfy. Not the killer heels and tight dresses most girls totter on.

Chilling out for me is hanging out with friends that I am comfortable with, in a place that’s not too overcrowded, beach is fine and it does not have to be THE hot-spot of the week/month.

Dubai – or the Arabic world in general – offer the ultimate chill-out. Smoking Shisha. Shisha is actually the name of the flavored tobacco, which is smoked in a hookah/waterpipe. Everyone here seems to enjoy it and the Lebanese restaurants especially offer them with dinner, before or after. In a region where a large percentage of people does not have access to alcohol it’s the soft drug of choice. And you see all kinds of people, expats and locals alike sitting in cafes and special Shisha lounges enjoying one with a glass of tea or freshly pressed juice. And smoking Shisha is a pleasure that can be enjoyed by local women as well so you can usually find a bunch of local women in the outdoor cafes of the Souk Madinat, enjoying smoke and a good gossip. There’s hardly a cafe or beach club type location that don’t have them. It’s a way of  life.

To me that is the essence of chilling out. I prefer to either just go for a Shisha or have it after dinner with tea. There’s all sorts of fabulous locations and while I have tried The walk at Jumeirah Beach residences, the odd cafe or Lebanese restaurant but I have yet to go the the Park Hyatt where the outdoor terrace offers Shisha with a spectacular view of the creek.

You can get dozens of fruit flavors and / or flavor combinations. My current favorite is grape/mint, yum! The Shisha masters prepare them for you and come by regularly to refill hot coal and get rid of the ashes. And then you just sit, smoke and enjoy. It’s an unhurried pleasure, once you get the hang of smoking it so it does not produce too much smoke within the hookah a Shisha can last a couple of hours, if refreshed. It’s the ideal way of relaxing after a long day at work or on a warm night outside with a couple of friends. Or just one good friend. Due to the new anti-smoking laws here in Dubai the Shisha cafes are usually outside or have to be declared special lounges – come summer these will probably boom.

I got my very own Shisha as a housewarming present from a friend. It sits proudly in my living room, ready to be used. Oh and it even goes perfectly with the style of my apartment. And my big terrace with comfy couches and chairs is the perfect location for my own little Shisha party.

So to me, I don’t need to try and get into a hip club only to be allowed to do what comes naturally when enjoying a Shisha – complete relaxation.

Oh and yeah, you sleep great afterwards as well… being that chilled out and all…

If you’re in Europe you can’t really escape Vienna – it is almost a must see if you like city trips that involve culture and history. What I like most about Vienna – apart from the Opera, the historic buildings etc – is the “ambiance”. To me it’s got this feeling of “life” – it is hard to put into words but Vienna is a city that has character. Maybe because it’s been there so long, it has had time to grow and to develop its own personality, like other old cities.

Whether you are a history buff or not, the imperial palaces in Vienna are almost a must. They are beautifully restored and wherever you turn you are confronted with the every youthful, smiling face of a fairy tale princess. The last Empress, Elisabeth (Sisi) is immortalized in pictures, on postcards, touristy gift items. The fascination with her is unbroken but she was more of a tragic figure than a fairy tale princess, having never adapted to the strict rules of the Imperial court. What remains is the famous portrait of her with her seemingly endless long hair and youthful smile wearing a white gown little girls dream of.  However, like Vienna, her memory is alive and wandering the halls of Schoenbrunn Palace. Maybe her ghost is too. Who knows?

And of course – the waltz. The waltz was “invented” in Vienna and on any given evening you can find some concert with the timeless music of Johann Strauss. Although I have to admit the hawkers that prey on innocent tourists on every downtown Metro station trying to sell those tickets to “great” performances of Strauss, Mozart and the Opera do get on my nerves. Unless you are extremely lucky the “great tickets” they try to sell you are for a performance in the back row of some minor theatre somewhere in Vienna. Not the main Opera house, make no mistake about that. If one wants to enjoy the famous Vienna Opera, tickets have to be purchases way in advance.

Vienna has got a lot to offer, countless museums, nightlife, great restaurants and if you venture out of the inner circle of the city you can find more hidden gems, like this great little Italian in the 8th district that we’ve been going too every single time we’re in Vienna. But yes, the touristy parts are great too, the Hotel Sacher, home of the famous chocolate cake is an institution where the guest is still treated with old-world charm and the true Vienna coffee house atmosphere can be felt. The church of St. Stephen is beautiful and even if you’re not the religious type – go for a visit, light a candle for a lost loved one. It’s special.

So much to do, so little time but if you’re living in Europe Vienna is only a short plane ride away and always worth at trip.

This last trip will be my last for a while but I have very good memories of Vienna. Lots of great things have happened to me there, some of them on my birthday. For the past years I’ve always had to work on my birthday and it’s always been at an event in Vienna so it included spontaneous singing by 140 colleagues, flowers, Sacher torte delivered to my room, wonderful dinners, and surprise birthday gifts. Funny how I no longer organize this event and my birthday will not fall on the dates of the events for the next few years. It was a bittersweet goodbye this time, a true end of an era, but a fitting end to my own personal memories of Vienna.

Four years ago we had one of our bigger events there and I have to say it was – challenging. For once, the event took place in a concert hall rather than an exhibition hall which would not present such a big problem, hadn’t it been a Nuclear Medicine congress that usually requires large equipment. Anyway – I digress. The first challenge arose when all the signage at the venue was done in Greek letters. THAT is when you realize you ARE indeed in a foreign country.

I think we’ve become so used to finding everything signposted in English today that once confronted with a different language and NO translation we stop for a moment going “Huh?”. At least that’s what happened to me. Luckily at least the metro has double signage or we would have been lost as taxi drivers in Athens were very reluctant then to take you on a ride for less than five Euros. They simply tell you to walk. Or take the metro which I have to say is very nice and clean, legacy of the Olympic Games.

Athens lives from its history, there are ruins, ancient statues, half-broken columns everywhere. You can stumble upon history at literally every corner. The Plaka, the main district for little shops and restaurants is very touristy but has its charm. Yes, you do get the same mixed grill and tzatziki at almost every restaurant, together with tap water and cheap red wine but just soaking up the atmosphere, the mix of languages and cultures mingling around you make it worthwhile, although it seems that there are only tourists on the streets at times.

Four years ago, we stayed at a very nice hotel with a view of the Acropolis – which is nice to visit but unfortunately mostly hidden by scaffolding – and the rooftop bar became our nightly haunt then and now. This time the majority of the team stayed in a hideous hotel in walking distance of the nice one and every night the party gravitated towards the roof top bar. One should get worried when the bartender puts “your” drink in front of you upon arrival.

That is another thing about Athens – you can party. Four years ago we organized a beach party for our customers and ended up leaving at two o’clock in the morning instead of midnight. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere or the air or the general spirit of Athens but no one wanted to leave and a few even ended up skinny dipping in the chilly October Ocean.

This recent trip was no different from a party point of view – we stayed out way too late and had way too much fun – although it was to be said 95% were awake and attending the trainings the next day at 9 am. Big boy in the evening, big boy in the morning and all that. But the current financial crisis is visible. At least it was to me. The city just looks a little “depressed” if that could be said of a city. People are harried, the streets are in disrepair, there’s a general shabbiness that has increased since I was here four years ago. The taxi drivers take you without complaint even if the fare is only 3 Euros. And the Acropolis is still hidden behind scaffolding. But it still looks impressive all lit up at night…

a view from the rooftop bar



Which makes my first winter in Dubai about ten days long. It started two weeks ago today with gray skies, not the sort of dark menacing gray that we see in Europe but a uniform light gray obscuring the sun. That day – the last “free” day before one week of intense work at our biggest event of the year – two friends took me to the desert – YES I am learning to drive in the desert. Anyway we went, despite the dark skies we set off and had to stop at some point because it started raining and the wet sand clogged our tires.

The skies really opened once I got back to Dubai to pick up friends, they barely managed to hop into my car – not an easy feat in a three door Jeep – and then it started pouring down as if the world would end. In fact most people said later that they’d hardly ever seen rain like that in Dubai. This continued for another day or so and by the end of the weekend the sun was back, making lunch breaks during the show quite nice when one had the time to sit outside in lovely spring weather.

By the end of the week temperature had risen to almost 30 degrees Celsius and on the weekend I took the top of my car for the first time in weeks, zipping down Sheikh Zayed road with the friend who was staying with me another day. That’s when we got caught by another winter phenomenon.  A sand storm. Luckily we were getting gas at that moment and were not on the open road because out of nowhere it went dark and gales of wind tore up the billboards alongside the road, whipping around bridges and howling around high-rise buildings, carrying fine sand with them, which needless to say settled in my car, our hair, faces and god-knows-where else.

While I was slightly put out by the fact that my car resembled a sandbox now, my friend laughed and enjoyed what she called the sudden raw force of nature.

Like thunderstorms in Europe sandstorms are created when the air heats up quickly on cooler ground. A week of rain and cooler weather in the desert followed by almost 30 degrees Celsius were a perfect starting point. So we’ve had gray skies, muggy warm weather and the occasional sandstorm all week but today is as perfect as always.

Gotta love winter in Dubai….

Winter desert

The start of the trip turned out to be a nightmare. I was leaving on a Wednesday night and the following Thursday was UAE National Day – the UAE’s 39th Birthday to be exact. Now any holidays here in Dubai are usually a reason for either a mass exodus out of the city or a mass influx into the city especially from the neighboring countries. The streets are packed, the airport is more packed that usual and so I left the office at four in the afternoon to go home and pack for my 9:45 pm flight. Still channeling my inner event manager I ordered a cab for 6:00pm which I thought would give me more than enough time. Only that 6:00 came and went and no cab showed up. I’ve gotten used to a 10 – 15 min delay here – that is still considered punctual – but when I had not received a call from the driver at 6:30 (you need to give them your mobile number and they call you when they’re at your desired pick-up location) I called central taxi reservation again only to be rudely told that the day was busy and I needed to be patient for another 15 min. Fine, I thought, I had planned for delays. I called back and was told 7pm. No call at 7. I called back. Yes, Ma’am, it is busy, wait. I waited. And was starting to get really angry. Now time WAS starting to run. At 7:30 I finally got a call from the driver telling me he was in my neighborhood and would be there in 10 min. My neighborhood is not big; you can drive the entire area in 10 min but guess what? No driver. Meanwhile, our friendly doorman tried another taxi service. Time was approaching 8pm and given a 30-45 min trip to the airport in holiday traffic I was now officially late. Two more calls from the taxi driver who kept telling me he was there and needed 10 min. At 10 to 8 I’d had it and dragged my suitcase down to the garage. I was going to drive myself. While I was packing the suitcase into the back of my car the driver called again and this time I lost it. I yelled at him that unless he was standing in front of my building right this minute he could basically kiss me where the sun don’t shine. He babbled something about traffic – confirming my suspicions that he had not even been close to my neighborhood but I simply cut him off. Needless to say, when I left my building in MY car there was no taxi in sight. The same guy tried calling my mobile twice on my frantic rush to the airport. I ignored him, seething inside and feeling decidedly undone.

If one could drop a car like a hot potato – then this is what I did to my car in long-term car park, before I dashed – as much as one can dash with a suitcase, purse and laptop bag – toward the terminal, dodging tourists and Indian families so large that I sincerely wondered what sort of car they’d come in. Upon arrival at the terminal I could not find my airline anywhere only to be told that they were doing their check-in in the new extension, which meant 250 meters more but a small, quiet terminal that opens directly into the security check area. Yay! I got rid of my suitcase, went through passport control and security and finally to the inner sanctum of the airport. I felt too wound up to browse the duty-free stores and just sat down in front of the gate, which opened about five minutes later. Yes, that is how late I’d been.

After an uneventful flight with unfriendly staff I reached Beirut shortly before midnight local time, fifteen minutes before our estimated arrival time. I was going to meet two of my colleagues at the airport but when neither of them showed at the luggage carousel I realized their flight from Kuwait was 45 min delayed. Since I had a driver waiting for me I decided to skip the airport reunion and exited the arrivals area only to find a grinning youngish guy holding up a sign with my name, who promptly ushered me through the waiting masses to his new and clean car. According to another colleague at the office, some taxis in Beirut are older than I am so I was pleasantly surprised.

Whenever I’ve met a Lebanese man in the past years, I was always surprised at how easy charm comes to them, without appearing slimy and annoying. They have a way with words and after barely five minutes in the car, my driver gave me his cell number, offering to take me out the next day if I so desired. I did not but the invite was presented in such an easy-going manner that I didn’t feel uncomfortable. He also stopped at a bank for me and waited with me while I got some Dollars and Lebanese pound, both valid methods of payment there. I didn’t see anything apart from a few lit buildings but my driver reassured me that my hotel was very central and in a nice area. I had no clue, all I knew that apparently the place was in walking distance to our office.

Living in Dubai I’ve already gotten used to the standard of hotels there and so I was a bit disappointed by my “home away from home” for the next three nights. While the place looked fine from the outside it had a certain shabbiness but the room was clean and the bed comfortable – why are hotel beds always so much more comfy than my already comfy bed at home?

Anyway, the next morning I felt groggy and still slightly stressed and after consulting the map our office manager had sent me and finding it extremely inconclusive I called a cab to take me to the office, walking distance or not. Only the cabby didn’t know the building and ended up driving around downtown for a few rounds which gave me ample opportunity to check out the place.

I still remember the news pictures of the Civil war when Beirut and bombing went hand in hand. I think many of us do. When I met my Lebanese friend he told a little bit about the time of the war and how it was for those who stayed. He said that after a while one got sort of used to it and the most massive fighting was done in the center, radiating out about a kilometer or two. They could be killing each other downtown, while in the outskirts people would sit outside having coffee. At least that is what he said. So this is where our office was. Slap in the middle of downtown in a newly renovated old or truly new building – I could not tell. From what I’d seen on my taxi ride, there was massive construction going on, modern shopping centers and condos, restaurants, parks, office buildings. Whether some of the ruins were still from “then” or of newer origin I could not tell.

I was warmly welcomed by my colleagues, presented with coffee and the views from the rooftop garden – yes, rooftop garden before setting to work. That first evening though we went out to dinner as a group and I was taken on a short walking tour of downtown Beirut, pointing out the streets that had been completely destroyed, the houses that were still being renovated after twenty years and where one can actually still see bullet holes. Incredible. And while they were rebuilding they found old Phoenician ruins below the town. The main square holds a huge mosque, two churches and an archeological site… They’ve rebuilt the center of town to its old glory and it’s a beautiful, lively place. There’s military police at every corner which disturbed me but which makes the people feel safe. Or so my friend assured me. The restaurants were packed with large group of people – quod erat demonstrandum – there was music, the smell of grilled food and Shisha. And the exciting mix of French, Arabic and English thrown in. Men dressed in suits and jeans and traditional Saudi dress, women in mini-skirts, couture and traditional Saudi dress. All mingling. This is the part where Lebanon is truly open-minded.

After another round of meetings we were going to check out the site of a congress and that is when I got my first glance at the non-downtown part of Beirut. This is what I’d actually imagined the Middle East to be. Loud, chaotic, full of people and cars…. Beirut is a Mediterranean city, a bit like Marseille, with Middle Eastern chaos and noise level. Friday night traffic – long bemoaned by all my local colleagues – turned out to be so much worse that I could ever have imagined. Any small surface of road was taken by my cab driver as the other drivers swiftly transformed a four lane road into an eight lane. Any infraction on one’s space was commented with loud shouting and cursing in several languages. My mother had been afraid for me in Beirut; she thought something sinister would happen to me… not sure if she imagined my taxi driver to be that sinister element. Anyway… a fifteen minute ride took us about one hour and forty-five minutes. I’ve never been that late in my life. And I am not going to mock my Lebanese friend again when he complains about Friday night traffic.

All in all my first trip to Beirut was okay… the city left an impression on me. Other “elements” were left to be desired… until next time I hope. There’s so much more to Lebanon than Beirut… at least I think so…

Beirut Mosque