Ziad

Some of the most interesting things about Lebanon were the roads and drivers. There were highway lanes, for example, but near as I could tell, the lanes were more of a theoretical construct than anything else. On-ramps and off-ramps were pretty much non-existent; cars just turned off wherever they saw fit. There may have been three stoplights in the whole city, and the few red lights were routinely ignored. A policeman (always a man) would be posted at some intersections, and when they would try to stop traffic coming from one direction, inevitably cars would keep coming through (I was in a car at one such intersection when the driver--not Ziad this time--said "watch, he's going to start yelling at this car but then he'll just laugh and walk away", and that's exactly how it played out). Cars would stop anywhere. Middle of a busy street? No worries! Despite the presence of crosswalks, walking across the street from the hotel to the ocean walkway along the Corniche was a game of run-for-your-life. And car horns! I'm convinced the horn ranks behind only the engine and the steering wheel--but ahead of brakes--in importance there. Honking seemed as natural as breathing. Needless to say, if I had tried to drive myself, I probably would have been reduced to tears and a nervous breakdown within 10 minutes.

So that was the milieu in which Ziad, the Zen driver of Beirut, operated. Day after day we would set off on various adventures, and Ziad negotiated the streets and highways of Lebanon with a quiet aplomb. All could be chaos around us, but nothing fazed Ziad. Need to turn across oncoming traffic going 70mph? Some drivers might wait for an opening and then gun it, but that wasn't Ziad's style. At the moment of his choosing--which did not correspond whatsoever to the volume of traffic--he would ease the car into traffic as if there were no question that the other cars would let us in. (This was extremely disconcerting at first, especially when on the side of the car facing oncoming traffic, but after a while I realised I was in the hands of a pro.) At one point we had pulled over to look at some monuments and realised that there were more further back down the road. Some drivers would take the time to do a U-turn, especially on a busy road, but not Ziad--no, he just put the car into reverse and backed us down the road, serenely oblivious to the (madly honking) drivers heading our way. I know very little about Ziad as a person (he didn't speak much English), but from what little I saw, we could all learn a little about just relaxing and going with the flow. So, to Ziad I say a hearty "Kesak!" (supposedly Arabic for "cheers!")...