I was writing a note to an editor — basically the dog ate my homework — to say that I don’t think I can fulfill our originally agreed upon commission of a road trip photo story in Lebanon, because, well, the Lebanese army confiscated my homework (canisters of film). When they detained me. By the Syrian border. And figured it might as well be fodder for the newsletter. A story about a story that will go un written and all that.
God I hope my mom isn’t reading this (mom, I’m fine xoxo).
On the mountain pass, from Beirut to Damascus, the road was a complete white out. Visibility about… 10 feet? My little rental Kia was not exactly designed for the rain or sleet or snow or whatever it was up there and so I poked and coasted along, hugging the glow of passing taillights, watching the crust of ice grow at the edges of my windshield wiper’s range of motion. The going was slow, in other words, but steady. Nerves perked, but not exactly shredded.
I should say here too that driving in Lebanon is… well, let’s just say that lane integrity is not what you would call rigorous. Cars are sliding and weaving all over the shop, dodging in a lot of cases cars coming the opposite direction, from everywhere, left and right. And then there are people, randomly passing hither and thither like real life Frogger contestants. And absolutely axel-killing potholes… but I digress.
Coming down the north slope of the mountains I stopped in a little village for a flatbread panini type thing recommended to me by a friend, and decided to skip the ruins at Umayyad, right up at the Syrian border, and head on to Baalbeck where I’d be staying the night in view of the great ruins there.
When I got back on the road I shuffled into a casual military convoy. In fact there seemed to be vaguely articulated military uniforms everywhere. All over the road. And so maybe my nerves went up yet another notch. I had started the day googling kidnappings + Lebanon (you should be fine except around the Syrian border, basically, was the consensus) and then trying to find a google maps workaround for untrustworthy cell service and no eSims… so maybe my nerves started higher then than the normal daily level.
Once into the Beqaa valley proper I kept thinking of Brad Pitt’s character lying to hos girlfriend in Spy Game that he was driving from Beirut into this part of the valley to photograph troop movements, but he wouldn’t make it until noonish, “so the pictures won’t be as pretty.” It was about noonish and the weather started to break a bit for me. Big blotches of sunlight dropping here and there on evidently intensely fertile farmland, on the famous vineyards of the valley, on towns strewn with plastic garbage, and more 80s mercedes than you can imagine. And in some wonderful roadside farmstands which I kept blowing past with increasing remorse, thinking I out to stop and photograph then. Until I wore myself down and on impulse did stop by an open pasture, to get out and take one sort of whimsically Wim Wenders road trippy image of a rusting sign with the snowcapped mountains behind it.
When I started back to the car, there was an early 2000s Jeep Cherokee screaming toward me, driving on the wrong side of the road. Just as I reached my little Kia door, the Cherokee stopped next to me and a man in what I can only describe as Big 5 sporting goods style casual military garb, with no insignias, started screaming and signaling at me. I could tell it was in regards to the photo I was taking but I didn’t want to find out any more. I got in and drove off, playing dumb, playing the clueless American, but right away the guy was on me, going a million miles and hour until he was on me, signaling for me to pull over, signals to which I still played dumb, until finally he raced ahead of me and then braked hard, effectively running me off the road. When he came to my window I was now in full panic. I don’t really know what went on but I took the film roll from my camera and gave it to him, which seemed to work. We both got in our cars and drove off, him racing ahead. And when, in a few moments I came to an army checkpoint, I saw why. Big 5 was there with a coterie of camouflaged men with AKs waiting for me. They steered me into a sort of concrete chute and then 8 or so guys stood at strategic seeming points around the car, putting on grim and exhausted expressions as if they were having to work up the nerve or the strength for what came next and it was proving a trial. At least that is how it felt at the time. Later a friend would tell me that the army getting to me was the best thing that could have happened, as they probably scared me out of further stupid behavior. The following week I went through about 50 such checkpoints in Iraq, controlled by various militias and army and police, and I became a little too familiar with the tone and pace of the interaction and might have been a bit more relaxed had I had that experience first. But I didn’t and I wasn’t relaxed. At long last a man who seemed like he was in charge came to the window, holding my film. He spoke English and almost seemed amused at this idiot American before him. Fair enough. He questioned me, gently, for a while and then told me that he’d trained with marines in Texas and Oklahoma. Seeing a bit of an opening I leapt in and started babbling about the panhandle or West Texas or some nonsense. Finally I got him to show me pictures on his phone of Las Vegas, of his visit to the George W Bush library. The next day someone would tell me that this was like winning the lottery, that anything might have happened. It was random luck, I was told, “depending on mood, or the moon…” And then that was sort of that. Boss man gave me my film back and I drove on, probably going about 7 miles an hour as my hands sweated on the steering wheel. The idea of photographing a road trippy style story in Lebanon went right out the window .
At the Roman ruins in Baalbeck the hawkers offered ancient coins, keffiyehs, and of course Hezbollah merch: t shirts, magnets. The vibe at the restaurant where I ordered dinner, to go, that night was one of distinct shock. What the hell was a lone American doing on the edge of Baalbeck at night.
I did not sleep well that night. And in the morning, news that the various other mountain passes, to the Cedars of God, for example, were all closed, left me no option but to go back to Beirut on the same road to Damascus, past all the same checkpoints, something I was dreading. To the point that I got in quite a state and just got in the car and went before I could lose the initiative entirely. So the drive, and the checkpoints passed in sort of a blur, like I wasn’t really in my body anymore.
Back in Beirut, I actually made a joke with some new Lebanese friends that when I was in Baalbeck I couldn’t wait to get to Iraq where I’d be safe. And they laughed a bit and then all told me, no, really, wtf. And started in on how they wouldn’t have done the drive alone and that with my passport I was a prime candidate for kidnapping/ransom and proceeded to freak me the fuck out for a few hours. “You were like a dove in a cage, like bait.” “Is this a thing you do a lot, risk hour life?” And, finally, “you are lucky to be here.” Which fairly worked me into a goddamn tizzy, kept me up and then planted a nightmare that woke me after a couple hours of sleep.
When I started writing this I kept toggling between thinking I was either being far too dramatic, or considering other potentialities, nowhere near dramatic enough. That’s a funny thing, and both are right, which makes this little dispatch feel chaotic in the extreme. But, anyway, here I am on a sunny a cool Greek island feeling very safe and sound and happy as hell to have that experience dissolving in the rearview. I did just send off the recovered film to a lab, so, stay tuned for the absolute mundanity of the image that put me in such a silly spot. Happy Sunday.
*By the by I am not conflating the Lebanese Army with Hezbollah or any other enterprising outfits in the area that might think picking up an American for a finder’s fee is good sport, ok. Ok.
Holy S*** Chris! That is one scary read. Do NOT put yourself in that kind of danger again, please, now that you have been 'enlightened'!! xoxo
Whew! And, your photos will be amazing, of course, as always. XOXO Mom