Off The Grid with Luke Coleman
Our Man in Iraq
This month bought to you by The Unofficial Tourist Board of LebaDebaDingDong.
We all need a break sometimes, and even after my recent sojourn in The Glorious Cotswolds, I had the itch for a few days in which I wouldn‚Äôt remain tied to the computer making sure I had a job to come back to in Kurdle Burdle. So it was that I was dropping a beer or two with someone I met at a conference back in March. I‚Äôd extended an invite as she was new to the city and you know, networking. We got on pretty well, and towards the end of the evening she returned the invite. But to Beirut for her birthday weekend. There‚Äôd be a few of her close and personals and we‚Äôd do some activities which included amateur palaeontology. Thrilling, right? Well, in the spirit of saying yes, I checked the flights, decided that the funds for a recent book editing gig should go on something memorable, and…
‚Ä¶four days and four nights of unbridled joy. The group was diverse ‚Äì restaurateur, conductor, film editor, composer, diplomat. We drank wine, we ate herring ceviche, sushi, we partied in the streets, we jumped in the sea, we found fossils, we created and maintained the sort of painfully in-jokes that germinate from hours on tour. If you get the chance, say Fuck Yes to Lebanon, it‚Äôs far more than the Paris of the Middle East (honestly, it‚Äôs like comparing the size of something large to football pitches or Wales).