Ignoring the headlines, I went on holiday in Lebanon

Lebanon is a country in political and financial crisis. That might make you think it’s a difficult travel destination. You can’t get cash from an ATM, it’s almost impossible to use credit cards and it’s suffering a horrible case of hyperinflation (in March, the annual inflation rate hit 264 per cent). When I tell Australians I’m heading to this cash-only destination, they’re surprised (apart from the foodies, who are envious).

My confidence that everything will work out is boosted by the fact I’m travelling with a friend, who’s visited several times recently, and his partner. Yes, you need to bring US dollars – but that’s the only major hurdle.

Waiting in line to enter the country at Beirut airport, I spy more bum bags than I’ve seen since the 1980s. No prizes for guessing what’s stuffed in those.

We’ve booked a driver to shuttle us from the airport to Raouche Arjaan by Rotana, our four-star hotel overlooking Pigeon Rocks, a formation that’s popular at sunset. Along the way, as we whoosh through the night, the driver asks if we need to change money. We hand over a $US100 bill. He flips open his console and extracts a wad of Lebanese pounds so thick it can’t be folded in a wallet. It feels surreal, as though we’ve just used a human ATM.

At the time we travelled, a 100,000 Lebanese pound note – the highest denomination available – was worth about $US1 on the country’s parallel market (the rate you’ll receive at a bureau de change, far better than the official government rate). If you can imagine travelling around the United States paying for everything in $US1 notes, you’ll understand why automatic cash-counting machines are a common sight around Lebanon.

At our hotel (we prepaid our accommodation), we see our first counting machine in action. The machine’s soft whirring as it rapidly counts banknotes is now one of the sounds of Lebanon to me, along with the buzz of generators kicking in outside small stores when regular blackouts hit.

Our first meal is a late-night supper at Barjee’s Cafe, sitting among men with impeccably groomed hair who are smoking shisha and playing tawle (a backgammon-like board game). Menu prices are written on removable stickers. Our bill comes to the equivalent of $US9. At this cheap and cheerful eatery, you must pay in local currency - or the bill would be hiked by an exorbitant rate – but many other restaurants accept US dollars at that day’s parallel rate. Wise travellers, though, will always carry some local currency. Even at the Starbucks opposite our hotel (worth visiting for the patio view of Pigeon Rocks), the server checks we have Lebanese pounds before we order.

We’re now ready for you, Lebanon – bring it on. In Beirut, we walk for kilometres and explore Mar Mikhael, a neighbourhood that’s rebuilding following the devastating 2020 port explosion. On our way north to Jounieh, our driver shouts us breakfast pizzas (manakish) before we soar up to Our Lady of Lebanon - a statue of the Virgin Mary – on the Teleferique (aerial cableway). We mosey around World Heritage-listed Byblos, fall in love with Batroun and linger over a late lunch at Pierre and Friends – an oceanfront restaurant snuggled against a cliff that forms its rear wall. It’s our most expensive meal, but seafood, salads and cocktails for three still only cost the equivalent of $US73 (a length of bamboo is helpfully provided in which to stuff the cash). Lebanon isn’t an expensive place to visit – seeing Baalbek’s World Heritage-listed ruins, for instance, costs about $US3 each.