I left Damascus in a shared taxi (10 USD) for Beirut, Lebanon. The taxi ride was something right out of a movie. Imagine a beat up, seventies taxi crossing the rocky barren desert in the midday sun, Syrian pop music blaring out of one, undersized speaker, me in the front seat, my sweat drying as fast as it appears because of blast furnace air of the open window, three Syrian guys squeezed in the back, a fat, hairy driver that honks at anything that moves or even thinks about moving, and no one but me speaks any English at all. Crossing the border was actually humorous for a change. I was initially startled by the chaos in the Syrian exit crossing. Forget lines, everyone just threw themselves into mass of sweaty humanity trying to fight their way up to the exit stamp window. There was no way I could be polite and get stamped, I had to wade in and push and shove and work for every inch, defending any ground I made. The funny thing was when I got close enough that the officer saw my passport in my hand, he waved for me to give it to him. As I stretched my arm through all the people, the officer, with a look of disgust, swept his arm in front of him, brushing aside all the local people’s outstretched identification, and took my passport. I felt special; and relieved because it would have taken at least about thirty to forty minutes if I had to wait like everyone else.
Lebanon’s border was chaos too. I don’t know who designed these border crossings, but they really lack obvious flow patterns. There is usually very little signage too. Only by asking do you find out the order in which you have to go to the different windows/buildings. There are no cattle chute type of controls that force people through certain steps.
We went through three military checkpoints with lots of soldiers and tanks before we reached Beirut. We also had to detour around a bridge that was bombed by Israel in their very recent skirmish. Beirut was surprisingly in good shape. I had expected much more damage. There were only a few older bombed out buildings and buildings that still bore bullet holes; the rest have been repaired or are new. They are building like crazy to restore their “Paris of the Middle-East” status. I did not find the city that interesting. The Pigeon rocks were pretty at sunset, while the rest of the Corniche (ocean front walk) was mostly buff, over-groomed twenty-somethings and old guys sitting around smoking water pipes. The central square downtown was rebuilt recently and is almost Vegas shopping mall perfect. The weird thing is that it was that there were no people. The cafes and shops were open and devoid of customers, except for me and three other people. 
I could not take many pictures because I was not allowed to photograph soldiers and all through the city, there are soldiers with machine guns on almost every corner. Streets are barricaded with sand bags, cement blocks, enough razor wire to hermetically seal the US/Mexico border, and the occasional tank or armored assault vehicle. I was searched at machine gun point three times in the downtown. They are serious. They just had a bombing a few days before that killed a bunch of people. There was also a bombing right after I left. There is a huge Hezbollah camp right in the middle of Beirut to protest for representation in the government. Since they are a terrorist group according to the US and Israel, the government is not eager to let them share any power.
At 10 pm I went to the fashionable restaurant street to eat, and again, there were very few people. The high prices, fancy French food, and occasional cruising Ferrari were a reminder that this is still the playground for the Middle-East’s rich. They come to Lebanon to do the things that they cannot openly do in their own countries; dress risqué, drink, and party. I really do not like the rich, superficial, party crowd and left found a little buffet place with traditional Lebanese food. 
I was not bothered by safety concerns in Beirut as much as I was by the atmosphere. It was pretentious and unfriendly.
