Holidays in Hell: In Which Our Intrepid Reporter Travels to the World's Worst Places and Asks, "What's Funny About This" by P. J. O’Rourke Page B
Authors: P. J. O’Rourke
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Phalangists put up photographs of the ox-faced
Bashir Gemayel, who got elected president in '82 and blown to bits
within the month. The Shiites plaster walls with the face of some
dumpy Ayatollah who went MIA in Libya. The Druse have Kamal
Jumblatt, who looked dead even before the hitmen ventilated his limo. Ehdene, however, is the headquarters of the Giants militia,
led by the very photogenic Franjieh family. In 1978 the Phalangists
attacked the Franjieh home and killed a handsome son, his pretty
wife, and their little daughter too. If you have to look at pictures of
dead people all day, they might as well be cute.
From Ehden, with light traffic and no mood swings at the
checkpoints, it's only two hours back to Beirut.
The remaining great thing to see in Lebanon is Baalbek, site
of three immense Roman temples, among the largest in the ancient
world. Baalbek, however, is in the Bekaa Valley, where Israeli and
Syrian forces are faced off and where Israel has been making
periodic airstrikes on Syrian missile emplacements. Take sturdy
and practical clothing.
Baalbek itself is controlled by an extremely radical proKhomeini Shiite group called Islamic Amal. The leader of Islamic
Amal is Hussein Mussawi. He has close ties to Iran, and many
people believe he personally ordered the suicide attacks on the
American Embassy and the U. S. Marine base at Green Beach.
The Islamic Amal people are so far out there that they think
Syria is a puppet of international Zionism. When I first arrived in
Beirut, the Syrian army had Baalbek surrounded with tanks and
was shelling downtown.
I went to Baalbek with ABC's chief Beirut correspondent,
Charles Glass, and two drivers, one Syrian and one Lebanese
Shiite. (Glass was later kidnapped by radical Shiites, possibly this
same Islamic Amal; after two months in captivity, he made a
harrowing escape.) The ride over the crest of the Lebanese range is
breathtaking. The and reaches of the Anti-Lebanese mountains
rise in the distance. Below is the flat, green trough of the Bekaa,
where Syrian and Israeli lines are lost in verdant splendor. The thin
neck of the fertile crescent is spread out before you, cradle of the
civilization that has made air strikes possible. It's overwhelming.
At the foot of the descent is the large Christian town of Zahle,
a Phalange outpost surrounded by Moslems. The Syrians shell this
sometimes, too. Zahle has a good hotel, the Kafiri, and an arcade
of outdoor restaurants built along a stream in the Wadi Arayesh, or
"Valley of Vines."
The road north to Baalbek runs up the middle of the Bekaa.
Marijuana fields stretch for miles on either side. This is the source
of Lebanon's renowned hashish. Don't try to export any yourself,
however. The airport customs officials won't search you when you
arrive, but they're very thorough when you leave. Taking hashish
out of the country without payoffs is one of the few crimes they still
prosecute in Lebanon.
Bedouins from the Syrian desert camp beside the hemp fields.
They're not very romantic up close. Their tents are made from old
grain sacks, and everything around them stinks of goat.
The ruins of the Roman temples at the Baalbek are, words fail
me, big. The amount of mashed thumbs and noses full of stone dust
that went into chiseling these is too awesome to contemplate. The
largest, the Temple of Jupiter, is 310 feet long, 175 feet wide, and
was originally enclosed by fifty-four Corinthian pillars, each sixtysix feet high and seven and a half feet thick. Only six are left
standing now. The temple complex was three centuries in building
and never finished. The Christian Emperor Theodosius ordered the
work stopped in hope of suppressing paganism and bringing a halt
to a very lively-sounding cult of temple prostitution.
Once again we found a lonely tour gide who took us around,
spouting names and numbers and pointing out things that are extra
odd or large.
The ruins are policed by
Bashir Gemayel, who got elected president in '82 and blown to bits
within the month. The Shiites plaster walls with the face of some
dumpy Ayatollah who went MIA in Libya. The Druse have Kamal
Jumblatt, who looked dead even before the hitmen ventilated his limo. Ehdene, however, is the headquarters of the Giants militia,
led by the very photogenic Franjieh family. In 1978 the Phalangists
attacked the Franjieh home and killed a handsome son, his pretty
wife, and their little daughter too. If you have to look at pictures of
dead people all day, they might as well be cute.
From Ehden, with light traffic and no mood swings at the
checkpoints, it's only two hours back to Beirut.
The remaining great thing to see in Lebanon is Baalbek, site
of three immense Roman temples, among the largest in the ancient
world. Baalbek, however, is in the Bekaa Valley, where Israeli and
Syrian forces are faced off and where Israel has been making
periodic airstrikes on Syrian missile emplacements. Take sturdy
and practical clothing.
Baalbek itself is controlled by an extremely radical proKhomeini Shiite group called Islamic Amal. The leader of Islamic
Amal is Hussein Mussawi. He has close ties to Iran, and many
people believe he personally ordered the suicide attacks on the
American Embassy and the U. S. Marine base at Green Beach.
The Islamic Amal people are so far out there that they think
Syria is a puppet of international Zionism. When I first arrived in
Beirut, the Syrian army had Baalbek surrounded with tanks and
was shelling downtown.
I went to Baalbek with ABC's chief Beirut correspondent,
Charles Glass, and two drivers, one Syrian and one Lebanese
Shiite. (Glass was later kidnapped by radical Shiites, possibly this
same Islamic Amal; after two months in captivity, he made a
harrowing escape.) The ride over the crest of the Lebanese range is
breathtaking. The and reaches of the Anti-Lebanese mountains
rise in the distance. Below is the flat, green trough of the Bekaa,
where Syrian and Israeli lines are lost in verdant splendor. The thin
neck of the fertile crescent is spread out before you, cradle of the
civilization that has made air strikes possible. It's overwhelming.
At the foot of the descent is the large Christian town of Zahle,
a Phalange outpost surrounded by Moslems. The Syrians shell this
sometimes, too. Zahle has a good hotel, the Kafiri, and an arcade
of outdoor restaurants built along a stream in the Wadi Arayesh, or
"Valley of Vines."
The road north to Baalbek runs up the middle of the Bekaa.
Marijuana fields stretch for miles on either side. This is the source
of Lebanon's renowned hashish. Don't try to export any yourself,
however. The airport customs officials won't search you when you
arrive, but they're very thorough when you leave. Taking hashish
out of the country without payoffs is one of the few crimes they still
prosecute in Lebanon.
Bedouins from the Syrian desert camp beside the hemp fields.
They're not very romantic up close. Their tents are made from old
grain sacks, and everything around them stinks of goat.
The ruins of the Roman temples at the Baalbek are, words fail
me, big. The amount of mashed thumbs and noses full of stone dust
that went into chiseling these is too awesome to contemplate. The
largest, the Temple of Jupiter, is 310 feet long, 175 feet wide, and
was originally enclosed by fifty-four Corinthian pillars, each sixtysix feet high and seven and a half feet thick. Only six are left
standing now. The temple complex was three centuries in building
and never finished. The Christian Emperor Theodosius ordered the
work stopped in hope of suppressing paganism and bringing a halt
to a very lively-sounding cult of temple prostitution.
Once again we found a lonely tour gide who took us around,
spouting names and numbers and pointing out things that are extra
odd or large.
The ruins are policed by
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