Read Holidays in Hell: In Which Our Intrepid Reporter Travels to the World's Worst Places and Asks, "What's Funny About This" for Free Online Page A

patrols, the South
Lebanon Army had stormed a section of Sidon, there was a riot at a
Palestinian refugee camp near Jezzine, and the coast road was
heavily shelled. I noticed none of this. On the other hand, no
explosion in Tyre was reported. This illustrates the difficulty, in
Lebanon, of knowing what's happening, even to yourself.
    In the morning I visited the principal archaeological digs.
These are all decorated with small blue and white signs saying the
ruins are national treasures protected by the convention of the
Hague of 12 May 1954, and in case of armed conflict notify
UNESCO. I suppose I should have phoned.
    The oldest and most extensive excavation, near the ancient
port, has revealed Phoenician house foundations, a Hellenistic
theater, a long, colonnaded walk from Roman times and parts of a
Crusader wall. Some pretense is made of keeping these in order.
They are guarded by one desultory fellow in a fez. After I'd
wandered beyond the palings for an hour, he whistled at me to get
out. Nearby a newer dig has uncovered a Roman temple now being
used as a garbage dump.
    Half a mile or so inland is a much larger site, which I couldn't
find mentioned in any guidebooks. Not that there are many Lebanon guidebooks. I couldn't find any in U. S. bookstores. And
the Hachette guide I purchased in Beirut was twenty years old.
Other than this I was relying on a 1876 Baedeker I found in a New
England thrift shop. It was not without useful advice:

    The transaction of business in the East always involves an
immense waste of time, and as Orientals attach no value
whatsoever to their time, the European will often find his
patience sorely tried.
    Many travelers rejoice in displaying a stock of revolvers and
other arms, which add greatly to their importance in the eyes
of the natives, but are not often brought into actual use.
    The larger excavation contains what looks to be an aqueduct,
another theater and a vast Roman necropolis. Simon had come
back to get me at the hotel, and I had him drive me into the middle
of these ruins. Garbage was being dumped here, too, and burned
automobile seats, Pepsi cans and lots of spent ordnance was
mingled on the ground with ancient pot shards and mosaic tile
chips. Simon picked up an amphora handle. "How old you think?"
I told him about two thousand years. He nodded, "Two thousandyears-old garbage."
    Antiquity hunters have been at work in Tyre. All the Roman
tombs are broken open, and many of the fracture marks in the
marble are fresh. I peeked inside one grave, and there was a
muddle of antique bones. It was, by sheer chance, the only dead
body I saw in Lebanon.
    I'd been given the name of a Lebanese-American, Billy
Hadad, who has a farm on the coast near Sidon. We drove around
looking for him. It's hard to know what your driver is doing when he
talks to the natives. He'll pull up somewhere and make a preliminary oration, which draws five or six people to the car window.
Then each of them speaks in turn. There will be a period of
gesturing, some laughter, much arm clasping and handshaking,
and a long speech by the eldest or most prominent bystander. Then
your driver will deliver an impassioned soliloquy. This will be
answered at length by each member of the audience and anybody else who happens by. Another flurry of arm grabbing, shoulder
slapping and handshakes follows, then a series of protracted and
emotional good-byes.

    "What did you ask them?" you'll say to your driver.
    "Do they know of your friend?"
    "What did they tell you?"
    "No."
    Eventually, we were directed to an old fortresslike farmhouse
near the shore. There on the terrace was a big American preppie
kid in chino pants and a button-down shirt. He looked at me and
said, "Awesome. Man, I haven't heard English in months!"
    The farm near Sidon has been owned by the Hadads since the
time of the Ottoman Turks. Its two hundred and thirty acres are
irrigated by springs and planted in avocados,