August 2009
Every volunteer who comes to work at the EcoVillage in Lebanon is told to expect hard work. If they do not muck in enthusiastically they may be asked to move on or remain as paying guests. But in return for six hours’ labour per day, volunteers are provided with food and accommodation, usually in shared tents of two or three. Once work is complete we are free to do as we please.
Tarek el Tayaro, operations manager, tells me that “it is the spirit of the volunteers we need, because the EcoVillage is a vision”.
The EcoVillage was set up in 2005 by a small group of friends who all share the same passion for nature. It is a rural community attempting to live with nature, causing as little impact as possible on the environment by using alternative energy, ecological building and design, organic farming and more.
The vision is to create a sustainable future, living in a way that preserves our planet, as well as educating and inspiring others to do so. “We want to get everybody involved,” Tarek says, as long as they are tough and ready.
Jobs vary from anything as menial as wiping the linoleum covered tables clean of dead moths and other debris, to helping out on the organic farm. The idea is that, no matter what you do, you are taking part in a sustainable project that could last for generations to come.
On my second day I help to fill empty coffee bean bags with silt deposited by the river. This is done to reinforce existing dams and create new ones by diverting a larger volume of water down the canal that leads to the hydro-turbine.
Temperatures are high in the day, and working under the baking Mediterranean sun can become a personal test of endurance. However, working in the cool waters of the river, doing my best to avoid slippery rocks covered with algae, is both refreshing and cleansing. The water is so pure, I am told, it is used for drinking.
“The river here is the vein of the village. Without the river there is no village,” Tarek says. “We benefit from it in so many ways. It generates electricity for the village, it irrigates our crops and you can swim in it.”
Because of the river and the hydro-turbine, the village is immune to the daily power cuts that are part of the everyday routine in much of Lebanon.
“Any chemicals we use here are organic chemicals that have come from flowers and extracts from other plants. Sunflowers, for example, contain a natural chemical that drives away flies. The fertiliser comes from our compost box and the manure comes from our goats and chickens,” Tarek says.
For lunch we eat rice and Sri Lankan vegetarian curry, with vegetables harvested from the farm. It couldn’t be any fresher, and it tastes delicious. Meals vary from day to day. I enjoyed vegetable stews, curries and pies, and each day my stomach and taste buds were satisfied. No volunteer to date has complained about the cooking, Tarek informs me with a confident grin, and many volunteers have passed through, he says, unsure of the exact number.
When Jean-Paul, a Frenchman, returns to work at the village for a second time, we drive the Toyota pickup truck up the only dirt road leading out of the village to collect large logs that will be used as timber for a forthcoming project.
We nearly take out a fledgling tree on the way down but it survives and we unload the wood near the kitchen, testing our physical strength.
“The EcoVillage is a chance to live and work in a sustainable way, one that could help preserve the future of the earth,” says Jean-Paul. “I have volunteered at other villages before. This one still has a few things to learn, but I find I can teach them a few things, and they can teach me a few things.” Ecovillages adapt as they develop, he says.
Volunteers who pass through the village come from different countries and backgrounds; it is a place where unlikely friendships can be made. Paul and I joke that we are bridging the gap between France and England, thawing ancient icy relations. Generally, volunteers tend to be like-minded, but an element of luck is involved concerning who you may end up with.
Summer is usually a busy period for the village but I came when it was quiet. This did not leave me with much to do after work, however. Although it is easy to laze away an entire afternoon swinging on a hammock beside the river, the sound of the rushing water soothing the soul, the EcoVillage is in an area worth exploring while the days are light.
Guided hikes can be arranged around the valley, home to various medieval ruins and military barracks left behind after the Second World War amidst thriving vegetation.
In most cases, lifts can be arranged to Dmit, the nearest village 15 minutes away, where regular buses run to Beitedeine, a pleasant village and home to a magnificent 19th century palace that goes by the same name. In the village of Deir al Qamar, about five kilometres from Beitedeine, is the 17th-century Palace of Fakhreddine, rebuilt in an Italian renaissance style and now housing a wax museum.
Service taxis can be found in Beitedeine near the palace. Although unlikely to run after dark, there should be drivers willing to take you back to Dmit, or on to Deir al Qamar. An annual festival runs through July and August in Beitedeine, featuring various international and Arabic performers.
It is possible to negotiate a taxi from Beitedeine to the Shouf Cedar reserve (www.shoufcedar.org), and marvel at the splendour of Lebanon’s famed and endangered native trees, displayed proudly on the national flag.
The EcoVillage can take up to five volunteers at a time all year round, and people can book as late as one week in advance although they cannot be guaranteed a space. In winter, the temperature drops significantly, adding a new element to any outdoor manual labour. The typical length of stay is one week but, if seriousness is shown, people are welcome “as much as possible”, Tarek says.
The EcoVillage in Shouf, alongside hundreds of others around the globe, is a part of the Global Ecovillage Network, which proclaims on its website (http://gen.ecovillage.org) that “ecovillages are one solution to the major problems of our time ... According to increasing numbers of scientists, we have to learn to live sustainably if we are to survive as a species.”
“In the EcoVillage you can really feel that giving is beautiful. You feel that you have achieved with the people something that is good for the future of Mother Earth,” Fatina Khatib, the owner of the village, says. “It is a dream but we ask all our volunteers if they are tough and prepared for hard work.”
If you go
The place:
The EcoVillage (www.ecoecovillage.com) is just outside Beirut, in Shouf where regular buses run from Cola. To book, email ecovillage1@gmail.com, or telephone 00 961 3211 463 up to one week before arrival.
The package:
Volunteers stay and eat free of charge in return for six hours’ labour per day of their stay. Otherwise, guests are asked to pay for their food ($15; Dh55 per meal) and acommodation. A bed in a tent costs US$10 (Dh36) and a bed in a cottage costs from $20 (Dh73) per night
Beirut on a budget.
May2009
BEIRUT// The plane touched down with a thud and a rattle. A UN helicopter hovered inconspicuously near the runway. Welcome to Lebanon, I thought.
I had managed to book a last minute flight to Beirut from Dubai for just under Dh900 with Jazeera Airways through the company’s website. Like a bad reporter I did no research on the cost of hotels or general living. I went on the pretence that it would be a budget-friendly adventure, whatever happened.
With no bed to rest my head I hit the internet and found myself a place to stay for free through Couchsurfing.com.
Every couchsurfing member is different. One person in Beirut with a free couch advertises the fact that he is into bondage. He hopes to meet people with whom he can share his passion and his bed with. I kept searching.
After a number of emails to various couchsurfers I luckily struck gold and found a warm-hearted soul residing in Jounieh just north of Beirut, willing to show me around the capital and surrounding area. I saw a side of Lebanon not in the tourist brochures and costly travel guides because of her.
Over the course of three days and nights I spent Dh200, and I did not starve or go thirsty, although I was told to avoid tap water in some places.
Prior to my flight I had been warned to be wary of the local taxi drivers. Fares should be worked out before the journey, I was advised, especially when travelling from the airport as some drivers have a tendency to rip off the fresh-faced tourist.
Depending on haggling skills, a taxi to the city centre would usually cost between Dh50 to Dh100 but I did not have to worry about this, or finding the correct bus to lead me into the concrete wilderness, because my host, Malika, kindly picked me up.
Campaign slogans on blown up posters bombarded the senses. Calls for “change” highlighted by a busty woman holding a remote control - as if to say political change is as easy as switching channels. The many faces, all with varying visions of Lebanon’s future, eventually blurred into one.
Malika drove me to her friend Lara’s apartment. Five people of varying nationalities lived there, but people came and went. For friends in need there is always a space to sleep, Lara said.
The electricity was out, but it was still day so it did not matter. If night falls and the power is still out, the place is magically illuminated by the warm light of candles.
Vassily, A New York born American who has lived in Beirut for nine years told me: “What happens out there is different. We have our own world here.” The world Vassily referred to was untouched by politics. The people in this world live their own life, regardless of what plans politicians concocted out there.
Out of the remnants of a bare fridge stocked with contents familiar to me, over a dozen pancakes were rustled up feeding a group of seven. Malika then drove six of us out of Beirut to a secluded river valley between Hazmieh and Mkalles, where the ruins of an ancient Roman aqueduct stood stark against the lush green forest on the mountainside.
At the bottom of the gravel path leading up into the mountains, vendors sold bags of broad beans and manges tout for Dh2.
The Aqueduct Zubaida was constructed in 273 AD, under the Roman emperor Aurelius. Although only a short drive from the sprawling city, the area around it provided a breath of fresh air and a pleasant place to stroll off the beaten track.
I was then taken on a tour of Beirut’s potholed roads. With the windows open in the May heat we breathed the city’s pollution deep into our lungs. Traffic was slow, but not as bad as it could have been, I was told.
Beside the Beirut River, in a residential area named Karantina, once an immigrant quarantine zone populated predominantly by Kurds and Armenians during the civil war, where the rush-hour traffic barely crawled above ten kph, Malika parked up on the pavement and we walked single file to the Art Lounge, River Bridge (+961/3997676).
It was closed, but we were granted access by the curator so Dorothea, a Dane living with Lara, could pick up some of her work.
With its relaxed atmosphere and edgy paintings, it offers a glimpse into Beirut’s underground counter-culture. Exhibitions take place once a month, there is a film club, and occasionally international DJ’s spin vinyl to an energetic crowd.
Having worked up an appetite we headed to Tonino (+961/3216783) on Bliss Street in Hamra, where we ate hot crepes for around Dh7 as an afternoon snack.
There are many bakeries in Hamra serving up a number of savoury and sweet delights. Manaeesh, a filling pizza-type dish with a number of toppings to choose from, will set back the skint traveller between Dh5 to Dh10.
Hamra is a suitable place to stroll immersed in the relaxed urban life. One can wind their way through the streets feeling far removed from the chaotic main roads, safe in the knowledge that, should hunger strike once more, an affordable restaurant, bar, or bakery is never too far away.
The natural instinct for those on a tight budget is to generally skip any establishment that looks that little bit too classy, and that rule generally proves true, but looks can be deceiving so it is always best to check a restaurant’s menu before committing. What may seem downmarket with a cheap exterior appealing to the thrifty could turn out to be an expensive eatery.
Malika drove Lara and I to the American University of Beirut (AUB) where we snuck past a security guard trying our best to look studious. The AUB features as a place worth visiting in the Lonely Planet guide of Lebanon and Syria (available for around Dh90 in major bookstores around the Emirates.)
Until recently, Beirut had few public parks of note, Malika said. The grounds of the university provided an oasis of peace isolated from the busy streets a stone’s throw away.
Where we sat, away from the streaming traffic of students finishing their day, surrounded by evergreens in an area known affectionately as “the Forest”, toxic fumes failed to reach us and we breathed clean air. Then we went drinking.
Beirut is known for its night life, and clubbing can be costly. Yet frugality does not mean missing out on a good time.
At Evergreen (+961/3428271) in Hamra you can drink Almaza, the local beer, for under Dh10. At Behind The Green Door (+961//1565656), in front of the Electricité du Liban building in Gemmayzeh, where there is a wealth of places to quench one’s thirst and whet one’s appetite, a glass of wine will relieve you of Dh36.
Malika said that Gemmayzeh had become upmarket and expensive after years of eerie silence. It is now a hub of after hours activity.
On Friday, after a good sleep and an espresso coffee in Café Younes (+961/1347531), near Hamra main road, costing Dh3.5, we headed for the mountains near the village of Balaa, Tannourine, 75 kilometres north of Beirut, the boot loaded with enough junk food to keep us going for a number of days, a dozen eggs, two bottles of wine, and a few beers, all bought from a supermarket on the main road north. Splitting the price between four, it came to Dh25 each.
Malika parked next to an abandoned house standing desolate and forlorn in what felt like the middle of nowhere. A path led us down to a grassy plateau beside a 250metre deep sink hole complete with waterfall, where we set up camp and attempted to get a fire going with what little damp wood the mountain offered.
A cross driven into an outcrop reminded us that we were in a land dominated by religion.
We stayed out in the sunshine through most of the next day, admiring the simplicity of nature’s beauty, before driving back to Beirut, where we drank beer for Dh12 in the Corner Pub (+971/3202779) in Gemayzeh.
Despite Lebanon’s turbulent past and politically charged present, the people I met were liberated, conjuring up a feeling of freedom that knows no boundaries, and cannot be divided by politics. In a country scarred by war, I felt at peace. People were moving on and not letting history determine their lives.
I gave Malika petrol money, for my trip would not have been the same without her, and on Sunday I was back in Abu Dhabi dreaming of my return.
SIDEBAR
Flights: For the best deals on flights visit the websites of Air Arabia, Fly Dubai, or Jazeera Airways. www.skyscanner.net also does a good job at seeking out the best prices.
Accommodation: For those who do not want to stay with a stranger, Beirut has a number of cheap hotels and hostels. Book online through websites such as www.hostelworld.com where prices start at Dh55 per night.
For the more adventurous, or those with a tighter budget, can logon to www.couchsurfing,com or www.globalfreeloaders.com to find spare beds or couches in Beirut and elsewhere.
Food, Drink, and Entertainment: For a detailed list of Beirut’s bars and restaurants go to www.thebeirutbars.com, where you can find the telephone number of just about every bar and restaurant in the city. For more info on The Art Lounge and its events, visit the website: http://www.artlounge.net/
Transport: There are a number of rent-a-car companies with websites offering cars that can be picked up at the airport.
www.beirutrentacar.com (+961 1 740741) - A Chevrolet Spark will cost about Dh396 for three days.
www.budgetbeirut.com (+961 4 720 721) - Rent a Peugeot 206 for Dh440 for three days.
Information on Tannourine: http://www.saidon.com/cities/tannourine
Split to Ancona overnightby ferry
2007
There was a group of us who had bought deck tickets, and we had all assumed the same thing. For a while we were all in denial as we traipsed back down a maze of stairs, getting lost on all levels, in search of some magical deck that was inside, sheltered, eluding us. But we followed the signs and were led each time through corridor after corridor passing cabin after cabin, open plan lounges, a restaurant, always arriving back where we started.
You get what you pay for, and we paid for the cheapest ticket, but as the ferry was not full a stewardess took pity on us stragglers and allowed us to mingle with the rest of the ship, below deck, in the warmth. Briefly the peaceful ambience of inside was disturbed as our diminutive horde of windswept travellers began to mark off territory with luggage, commandeering rows of seats so that when it was time to get some sleep on this 12 hour trip we could sprawl out in luxury.
Once settled into seats or cabins, a majority of passengers congregated in the main bar and ordered whatever drink took their fancy; beers, whiskeys, wines, brandies, cocktails, and soft drinks for the children. Clinking glasses, classical music, and high-spirited conversations in a crimson carpeted bar evoked a sense of bygone times of elegant travel. Slowly the room filled with a haze of tobacco smoke, it was as though we had checked in through a time warp.
After a 2 hour delay that perturbed no-one, we set sail towards a setting sun. Behind us, the marble buildings of Split and Diocletian’s Palace radiated in the dying light until the city eventually disappeared over the horizon and into the darkness. From that point on, the only light outside in our little corner of the world was the light of a million twinkling stars. The only sound was that of the sea moving for the moon.
A serene tranquillity was shared by all who ventured outside from the electrical miasma within, (sheltered from the stars, the moon, and the sea). The lulling of the waves was our eternal lullaby, the stars; our eternal dreams. The lights were out in the Captain’s Bridge; him and his crew were sharing this same experience, you could sense it. The ship’s controls glowed faintly casting blue-tinted silhouettes reflecting the peace of the sea. These seafarers were home again. The stars, and gps, were guiding us all to safety.
Mila and I drank a bottle of cheap Croatian wine, keeping warm in the cold Adriatic night. After a while we slept, shivering in the draught of the air-conditioning.
Dawn broke, and the shapes of oil rigs looking old, industrial, rusty and haggard, appeared in the distance. Italy’s East coast spread out vast before us.
The great bombed port of Ancona began to loom, the signs of Industry - a countryside scarred by the wealth that oil brought. The crude stench. The crashing waves calmed by boulders 100 metres out from the coast so that holidaymakers could swim in calm waters. It’s all the same: sun, sand, and sea, and oil and gasworks. The water was green with pollution, the air was toxic, but this is the cost for our human achievement, this is our means of getting from A to B conveniently.
Under the pure night sky we felt timeless, a diesel-powered ship riding the waves of eternity. As we neared land our eyes reaped the destruction of bombs and technological advancement.
Most of medieval Ancona was levelled during the second world war. The largest port of the Adriatic, it was strategically bombarded by the allies for the sake of military advancement and, of course, freedom from the Axis of Evil. But does that freedom still hold strong in these fledgling years of the twenty-first century?
Laden with baggage we strolled a good few kilometres to Ancona train station, catching the train onward to Florence, via Bologna through countryside that welcomed my heart as if it were my home, in the heart of the Tuscan hills where it is all Chianti, Chianti, Chianti, where good wine comes cheap and flavoursome. Where I drink content, full bellied, wishing I could speak the language of my grandfather.
