July 2nd, 2001
Nicholas greeted us warmly outside his electrical shop, half way between Beirut and Byblos. He was delighted to hear that Neville was a grandfather as of last week. He suggested we visit his home to give the news to his family. Inquiring where his home was, Nicholas replied, “Only a short distance. Easy to find.” Neville whispered in my ear “The Lebanese always say this but after their instructions, you never find their home.” The next few minutes were to prove the truth of Neville’s words.
Nicholas spent the next 5 minutes giving precise instructions on finding his house. I have a great way of remembering directions. I simply picture the path in my head… but after two minutes I began giggling. My brain was becoming full. Nicholas looked at me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “No, no. Keep listening. It’s very easy.” I tried but two minutes later I was giggling again. About then Neville gave up and retired to the car and told us to join him. Nicholas pleaded with me to hear him out which I did, despite a broad smile on my face. Finishing his directions, I hopped into the car & Neville drove us off in the opposite direction to Nicholas’ house!
Poor Nicholas looked distraught. “On the way home! On the way home!” he pleaded. “I will close my shop and take you there…”
What follows is the directions Nicholas gave us, with a little of my usual liberty in extending an otherwise already elongated account. The truth is the instructions lasted about 6 minutes and included about 3 right turns, 5 left turns, two garages, various landmarks and much weaving round corners and up hills over several kilometres. Surely we never would have found his home!
Nicholas began:
“Here is my electrical shop. Just go back down the main road and turn left up the hill. On the corner you will see a 4 story building shelled during the civil war, bullet holes in every wall, modern shops beneath. My friend George sells black leather bags. Next door my friend Marcos sells brown leather bags. My friend Alexander would be selling purple leather bags next door to Marcos but he’s on holiday in Cyprus at the moment awaiting the glut in leather bags to decrease. On the other corner is the local post office which doesn’t sell stamps.
Continue up the hill for about two miles until you come to an Esso garage. Make sure it’s the Esso one and not the Mobil or Shell one. You will see three men smoking a combination of apple, cinnamon & tobacco outside. One is a Maronite, one an Orthodox Lebanese and one a Druze. Don’t stop to talk or you’ll be there all day. Just to the left of the station is a small lane. Take this lane. It’s very easy.
The lane weaves around the hillside for several kilometres. Do not turn to the left nor the right. Do not stop (even at the stop signs.) You will pass many olive groves & various apartments - some derelict, some half built (awaiting money to finish) and some lived in. At the end of this lane in a T intersection. It’s easy here. You cannot go straight ahead so turn left. (Must have Irish stock too!)
Back down the valley you see the Mediterranean glistening in the morning sun if you see it at all through the smoky haze. To the north west is Cyprus. Please don’t look too long at the view or you will either miss the right turn or hit one of the oncoming cars that has overtaken the truck broken down on the corner. You will know the road to turn into by the huge pothole in the middle of the road carved out when the last shell missed the Beirut power station (by a few dozen kilometres). Avoid the hole.
You are almost at my home. Only another few miles now. Head uphill on this road. You will see a barrier in the middle of the road, dividing the traffic. You need to turn before this barrier. If you do not turn, you will find yourself under arrest. This is not good. Whatever you do at that point, do not take a photo of anything. If you do, you will quickly find out what it’s like inside prison. Not nice at all. Do not expect me to come and visit you. Do not expect anyone to come and visit you. Pray for a miracle. You will need one. Better still, turn off before the barrier.
Turn left into another lane like the earlier one. This one goes over a small bridge. Not a large bridge such as the San Francisco Gate nor a long one like those over the Dutch dykes. A small rural bridge. Our creeks are small most of the year. We don’t need a large bridge. We do get the occasional flood but the waters easily run down the road and usually only make the way impassable for, at the most, five days. The locals manage easily on the rooves of their houses for that time.
Continue up this narrow road. You’ll pass a road-block. Be glad it’s not a strict one or they’ll spot-check your car by removing the wheels, doors and bonnet and when they refit it you may find you drive away with the bits in the wrong places. Just make sure you slow down and smile on the way through, especially you Cynthia. Just past the road-block is a small bank where you may cash every currency except NZ dollars, US dollars, UK pounds and whichever country you come from. Better to try the ATM machine outside where you don’t have to gesticulate to make yourself understood though, sadly, they do tend to eat cards.
Over the next rise in the road you look up the hillside and on the horizon see a huge mansion at the end of the road. It is pink, its tiles are red, there’s a huge cedar tree on either side of the house and the kitchen is on the left. That’s not my home. You can’t see my home for all these huge mansions but it’s tucked in just before the pink one. Isn’t this easy?
Slow down for the speed humps. They don’t paint them. My son hit one at speed the other night and just about needed false teeth as a result. Between that judder bar and the next one you’ll see a small tourist shop selling authentic bronze age statuettes. Next door is a sculptor making authentic bronze age statuettes.
Three doors further up is a black Toyota jeep and a white Mazda. Three young men will be working on these cars or standing round talking about working on these cars. The drive down to my home is right beside them on the left. Drive down, not to the first home which is derelict, not to the 2nd home which is YA’s summer house, not to the 3rd home which is his bodyguards’ 7 story apartment, not to the 4th home which is derelict due to a certain recent shoot-out between the SSS, PSB, PJK, KLM & KFC. The last house is mine & you’ll find my family home to welcome you and feed you.
So easy. Was there any part of the directions you want me to repeat?”