Two of my pals still in Sa'Sa sent word they were planning a trip to Beirut and asked if I would join them. Of course I said yes as this was another place I was set on visiting. I soon arranged leave and transportation back to Sa'sa.

We went to Sa'Sa village and requested the loan of three horses. The only horses available were two bony creatures and one very large stallion. there were no bit' s for the horse's mouths only one piece of fancy rope tied around the lower part of the horse 's head which caused them to change direction when pulled to the left or the right. The stirrups were extremely heavy metal affairs. First let me tell you that at six foot, I was the shortest of the threesome, both the others were nicknamed '' Lofty". Lofty Monaghan, the heaviest, claimed the stallion but as he was about to mount, the owner told him to be careful, as it was somewhat wild. This remark had the effect of convincing Monaghan that weight was not the best criteria in selecting a horse. It would be better for me, the only one of us with any experience, little as it was, to have the honour.

I agreed and off we set with one of the servants, Ahmad by name, accompanying us on foot to act as a guide. Remember we were going across very hilly country with no clear indication that we were going the right way. Not to worry, we eventual came across a well traveled pathway leading to Ramash, where we were headed. As we wished to reach the village before dark, I decided we had better trot. The stallion I was riding insisted on leading all the way and responded to my urging to pick up speed. As you may know, and my friends soon found out, trotting is the most difficult as it requires timing both the up and the down movement of the horse. Lofty Monaghan missed either the up or down movement, possibly both, anyway his foot came out of the stirrup which consequentially started to hit his horse continuously in the flank, causing it to break into a gallop, passing the stallion. This was OK by me but a no no as far as the stallion was concerned. It too started to gallop with me trying to restrain it. This was not successful as it only kept the stallion back and he had no intention of stopping until he had gained his rightful place in the pecking order. I decided to ride the stallion in front of the other horse and try to stop it.

There was really no competition, as soon as I let my horse have his head he pulled ahead and I am sure my plan to stop the ''charge'' would have worked except an old Arab leading two donkeys, with both panniers holding two large churns full of water, appeared in front of us. We hit them before I could stop. All was somewhat confusing, and the Arab was flat on his back, as were the two donkeys, water all over the place, Lofty was hanging from his horse's neck, I, fortunately, remained seated. The poor Arab soon recovered and apologized for being in the way and accepted our apologies but refused any talk of compensation. We finely reached Ramash and were well greeted and invited to the invariable dinner/feast. They did not remember or chose to forget my previous religious aversion to meat and I enjoyed the delicious meal including the sour cream like dip, which is a standard at all meals.

After a very pleasant evening with the Parish Priest and a Lebanese Police inspector again as hosts, we retired for the night to the priest's house and were soon asleep. We took bets as to what was under the Priest's robe, but he turned the lights off before we could find out. Next morning we took the bus to Beirut, over very sparse countryside. We passed through a few small villages but saw nothing of consequence. It took four long hours before we reached Beirut, called the Paris of the East