A green and pleasant land

 

We are back in the mountains, back in the Christian stronghold of Bcharre. We were maybe a bit stupid not to have brought our bags with us yesterday, but we got up early and took the 10 o'clock bus back up the mountain to Bcharre, where the only thing of interest to happen was that an old man feinted in his seat on the way up and had to be revived by the best of the Lebanese army.

Back up here, Tony the taxi driver met us and took us up to Tony the hotel keeper (well bed and breakfast) at the Tiger House where we just in time to meet three English and find out that one had worked in Uganda and the other had travelled in Ethiopia before their bus came to take them to Beirut, before we could exchange stories, a pity.

Anyway, after dumping the bags, we went down the hill to find Tony the Patisserie man, only to find his sister, who looks like a young version of Shakira. What she had underneath her skin tight white trousers is anyone's guess. Well, after another delicious cake and coffee, Tony turned up and gave us a warm handshake of friendship and soon he was showing us the way down to today's destination - the Qasisha Valley, a valley starting with a spring out of the mountains just above Bcharre and soon joined by other springs of water to form a river cutting its way through a mighty ravine/canyon through the mountians, 50 kms out to the sea at Batroun.

Tony took us to the start of a goat track winding its way down some very sheer cliffs to the valley below. Beautiful. So green, the path wound its way past olive trees, fig trees, apple and pear trees, wild roses, aniseed, mulberry trees, beautiful flowers, thistles, under clear blue skies with views across to the honey coloured rock on all sides, above and below, mostly covered with vegetation of some sort, crosses at the peaks and caves and grottoes etched into the rocks, a fountain on our left, water gushing along the track at our side and birds flitting out of the grass.

The big mulberry tree by the stream. Bursting with red and black fruit. The ground black and purple from the bird droppings after their feasts on these fruit. In Sardinia, they would make mirto from the fruit. A drink to bring people together and warms people's hearts. Here we were offered arak, made from the sweetest grapes and flavoured by the wild aniseed. However, here the smell brougt back immediately memories of our white mulber tree in Tontenano. What memories!

And so we carried on to the valley floor where we tracked alongside the fast-flowing river, a breeze keeping us cool, the sun above us, tracking the side of the gorge above us, with the crescent moon following about three hours later along the same trajectory.

This is the stronghold of the Maronite Christians, where they have come to escape persecution from other Christians (although they will not readily admit this now) and later the Muslims and this was their power base in the Civil War, home of course to Samir Geagea. (Tony tells us that when he is not studying in Beirut, he is Samir's bodyguard). The rocks are full of caves which housed Maronite hermits, their are monasteries and nunneries, burial places of the Maronite Patriachs, birthplace of some particular saint and so on... all in this beautiful wilderness (a UNESCO world heritage site). I liked to compare the valley to Rivendell (in the Lord of the Rings), which still held its magic while all around the world was turning bad. So, it will have seemed to the Maronites.

We decided to make our way to the nummery at the Monastery of Our Lady, which turned out to be a very long walk indeed, but incredibly rewarding. We would stop at the riverside and watch the water fall from the rocks above onto the rocks below or would stop off for a drink at a wayside cafe and be invited in for lunch, by a man who was busy making arak. We ate with the family and a friend of the son kept turning up. He was interesting for having a large tattoo with a cross, a red heart and the name Samir emblazoned on his arm. (All the time in this internet cafe they are playing horrible thumping music where the singers are singing the praises of Samir Geagea - he is a very big name and everybody swears that he is a good man... hmmmm... maybe...

Anyway, we finally made it to the Monastery where we were met by a very friendly nun who explained to us the mission of the monastery, the history of it and the meanings of the 17th century frescoes in the chapel. The valley of the Saints. The home of the Maronite Patriachs. Hermits who hid away and tilled the land and found a special relationship with God.



Time enough to find a taxi/bus to take us beack to Bcharre before dark and to have another big argument about the cost. We ended up sharing some beers and an ice cream with Tony from the Patisserie and to go back up to the guest house to find an Italian from Milano, called Fancesco, wanting to go out for dinner with us... so it as off to the pizzeria on the hill, to watch the moon chasing Venus down across the sky, enjoy the coolness of an evening up in the mountains, and a quick session in this internet cafe.

Tomorrow, we either stay here another day or go over the mountains to Baalbek, the city of the Sun, site of wild parties in ancinet times, now in the middle of a Shi-ite stronghold.... must remember to apck some beers in before we go....