Beirut
The customs man wore a white linen suit. He had a large moustache. His ample belly touched the edge of his desk. The scent of cardamom wafted over as a tiny cup of coffee was placed in front of him. I was not offered one. This was Beirut airport in the summer of 2011.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Black Friday sale
Subscribe today and get 10 weeks of The Spectator Australia for just $1
- Unlimited access to spectator.com.au and app
- The weekly edition on the Spectator Australia app
- Spectator podcasts and newsletters
- Full access to spectator.co.uk
Or
Unlock this article
You might disagree with half of it, but you’ll enjoy reading all of it. Try your first month for free, then just $2 a week for the remainder of your first year.
Comments
Black Friday sale
Subscribe today and get 10 weeks of The Spectator Australia for just $1
SUBSCRIBEAlready a subscriber? Log in