Our home in Beirut (near the Greek Orthodox part of town, which my wife swears was just a coincidence).

If you look closely you can that our 4th floor landing was once a sniper’s nest. The bullet pock marks on the wall are outgoing (incoming can be found if you lean over and look down). It’s amazing (and sad) that there doesn’t seem to be a single building that was around during the war (1975-1990) that wasn’t the scene of a battle.

But why talk about war when we can talk about cheesy breakfast sandwiches across the street?

On Hamra Street, looking at the Starbucks. You forget just how many
chain coffee shops there are until you see them all within three blocks.

The ever-romantic corniche.

And the fashionable (and up-scale mall-like boring) downtown.

With free concerts on five stages.

From our hike, between Jezzine and Barouk. In the mountains can be found the famous ceders of Lebanon, the oldest of which is about 3000 years old.





Then I went to street view and, of course, it wasn’t there. Because, you know, turns out it’s just an actual plane flying.
Perhaps in the big picture of cultural destruction, it doesn’t rank up there with the destruction of the 