KEEP ON WALKING, LEBANON

This week I walked the coast of Lebanon, from Hamat to Beirut. I wanted to find a way to say goodbye to people that was not about protocol-heavy meetings with leaders in air conditioned rooms. My security profile meant that we could not tell anyone we were coming, slightly undermining the plan, but it still gave me a privileged view of Lebanese life, and a chance to meet a huge number of people. We travelled as lightly as we could with a team of protection officers and a LBC camera crew (see their ‘diplomentary‘ here).

We started at Hamat, the military base where UK trainers are working with the Lebanese Land Border regiments to keep the Syria war on the other side of the border – we have increased UK support to the army tenfold in four years. We saw the extraordinary new observation kit that we’re giving the army to track potential terrorists. I took part in a training exercise, probably providing more amusement to our hosts than they let on. And we roasted a sheep under the stars, a chance for us to thank Lebanon’s bravest for their role on the frontline.

We started out early on Day 2 for Batroun, where Foreign Minister Bassil showed me the impressive renovation underway in the town and I got to sample the finest lemonade in the world. I met fishermen, shop owners, and Syrian refugees. Plus the teachers whose classes now have all their textbooks provided by the UK. On the road to Byblos, I met a bar owner who still has Winston Churchill’s autograph from his 1962 visit with Onassis, and ate fish freshly caught off the coast of Amchit. I was joined by Sabina, one of the stalwarts of the UK community, and – as one of our wardens – someone who helps keep us in close touch with Brits around the country.

Byblos is one of the most special places in the world, and somewhere I have always come to think. The debris of 19 civilisations helps even the most frazzled of diplomats take a longer view. If that’s not enough, Pierre’s fossil shop takes you back several hundred million years. We broke off the walk for the night to watch ‘The Script’, joining a long list of brilliant acts (including British bands Keane, Snow Patrol, Tom Jones, Joss Stone, Katie Melua, David Gray, Elie Goulding) to perform in Lebanon in the last four years. Their lead singer’s message for Lebanon was ‘keep on putting one foot in front of the other’. Not bad, including for the walkers.

Day 3 took us on to Jounieh. With UK Trade Ambassador Samir Brikho, I visited Indevco, the largest exporter to UK. I saw the machine that produces 600 nappies a minute – at times in fatherhood I’ve needed almost that many. They also produce a large proportion of the packaging, tissues, and toilet paper used in the UK. The chances are that you’ve used them if ordering a takeaway, blowing your nose or, let’s leave it there. The team even let me drive a forklift truck.

From there we moved to Harissa cathedral. This is a peaceful place of pilgrimage for all faiths. Interestingly, given that the Iran deal had just been sealed, I discovered that most tourists come from Iran. It was a reminder of the importance of religious diversity in the region, and of Lebanon’s role as a talisman of coexistence. I spent the evening with business and political leaders in Kesarwan. To get in to the spirit, we got kitted out in traditional Lebanese attire. We may not have won any fashion competitions, but we boosted sales of Scotch whisky.

Day 4, our last, took us on to Jounieh municipality – where the biggest fireworks in the region are organised by a UK company. With Anthony and Julia, two more inspirational LeBrits, I walked Nahr el Kalb, where successive invaders from Ramses 2 to Napoleon 3 have carved their marks in the stone. Plus the Brits who liberated Lebanon in 1918. We passed the Marina, where 100s of British-built yachts are now kept. And called in for scones at Timothy Oulton, one of the first Brit brands I opened here.

We then moved to the port, through which we have doubled trade. My first visit after presenting my credentials in 2011 was to the UK company who operate it. It was good be back at the end of my posting, and to have another chance to operate a crane. Many of the Merseyside trained dockers have Scouse (Liverpool) accents. Visiting the port was also a reminder of partnership in tougher times – they gave me a photo of helicopters evacuating Brits in 2006.

We finished, weary but full of stories, in Martyrs Square. The line that divided Lebanon for so long is a reminder of what happens to this extraordinary country when it stops coexisting. Over the last four years, we have done everything we can to help this fragile corner of a region in upheaval to hold the line. As I saw and heard again over four days, never underestimate the Lebanese people.

Yalla, Bye.