Bcharre is one of the highest towns in the Middle East, resting on the edge of the Qadisha Valley, a UNESCO World Heritage site. The town is a mix of low rise buildings, red roofed villas, and a number of large churches, whose bells can be heard throughout the valley. Historically the town and its environs were home to St. Charbel, a Maronite hermit saint. In more recent history it was the town from which Lebanese Forces leader, Dr. Samir Geagea hailed from, making it a hotbed of support for the Lebanese Forces.
The St. Bernard Hotel sits right next to Dr. Samir Geagea's, mountain retreat in Jabal Libnan. His villa was complete with armed guards, a concrete protective blast wall and its own checkpoint. The hotel was completely empty, save for the group of thirty students I traveled with. The hotel's walls were covered with early Maronite arms; muskets, knives, swords, and other weapons. The decoration and smell of the hotel was something out of the early 1980s, dust was still on the fireplace. My room had two single beds in it, a balcony looking out at the mountains, and a toilet/shower. The toilet paper had probably been in that very bathroom for the last 3 years.
The day we arrived at the St. Bernard, a group of ten (myself included) was taken to a chairlift in the mountains to do some hiking. At first I was quite nervous about the hike and the chairlift. The device had been repaired a few years ago, nonetheless it was being run by the Lebanese Army and pieces of the old chairlift were scattered about. Even the building where the chairlift was located was in disrepair. Nonetheless, I made the journey up the lift to a height of about 7000FT. After getting off the lift, the group headed out through the mountains. We passed a number of small snow patches. There were large hand sized grasshoppers called aboots milling about. The terrain was a mixture of shale and sand colors, and quite rocky. After stopping in a glacier made depression we found a large patch of snow, some of the members of my party decided it was apt time for a snowball fight. On top of the highest peak in the area was a wooden cross. If you looked east the Bekka Valley and its countless fields could be seen with the naked eye. Looking toward the Mediterranean the dark outline of the Qadisha Valley and the villages that dotted it were full view.
The bus met us half way down the mountain, it was hazy, further down the mountain I could see Arz el Rab, or "the Cedars of God." The cedars are truly somthing, many of them are over 1000 years old. These same trees were the ones used by Solomon for his Jerusalem temple, the Phoneticians and Romans for shipbuilding, the Crusaders for buildings and fortifications, the Ottomans for railroads, and in the modern day, for small trinkets. The wood is extraordinarily fragrant. The trees themselves are massive. The trunk of one tree, I saw, was thicker than two yellow school buses and as high as a high rise building. The trees also have a religious significance to many Christians in the area. The cedars were mentioned 75 times in the Bible, and their wood was used to create two Jewish temples, Solomon's and later, Herod's, where God himself was supposed to dwell.
Back at the hotel my skin was burned to a crisp from the high altitude hiking and tour through the cedars. I decided to spark up a conversation with the people who ran the hotel. I explained
to them my interest in the Lebanese Forces and their subgroups, immediately I was accepted as "one of them." When the other Americans had to pay a bill, I didn't, everything was on the house, their courtesy was unmatched. We exchanged phone numbers and sat for hours discussing the Christian situation in Lebanon. After a time I even shared coffee with one of the Kalashnikov toting guards of Samir Geagea.
The two men who I talked most to were Philipee and the hotel's chef, Charbel. Philipee explained to me that even though he had to work two jobs, seven days a week, and that Lebanon's economy was destroyed, he would try his best to stay in the country,
"this is my country, all of us [Lebanese Christians]
are going, I just can't." Charbel's English was limited to curse words and phrases from the early 90s used to hit on women. Nevertheless, they took an instant liking to me and presented me with cigarettes ("I don't smoke" doesn't hold much weight in this country, I must have been offered them 50 times in the span of 8 hours), a poster of Samir Geagea, and a number of vodka and redbull cocktails they enjoyed mixing up.
"The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like the cedar in Lebanon" (Psalm 92:12)
