Massaya Vineyard

I checked the weather from our balcony this morning with more urgency than usual. It was pleasantly cool, so I took my freshly brewed coffee cupped in my hands to scrutinize the horizon towards the south. This is where all our "weather" comes from. A few puffy clouds sprinkled my view; not enough to cause any concern. Just as well, we were off to the Bekaa Valley today to visit the Massaya vineyard.

An interesting mixed bunch of intrepid wine tasters, including a four legged friend, boarded the bus in Hamra. Off we set for the hour and a half journey along the Damascus Road to our destination. Practically no traffic, clear blue skies, and a careful bus driver; where did you get HIM from, Robert?! This had to be one of the calmest trips I have ever taken along this particular road – my least favorite in the whole of Lebanon.

We left the highway just past Chatura and bounced along a dusty pathway leading to our destination. We took a short walk through the vineyards, now empty of fruit but with neatly trimmed lavender bushes on each side of the pathway. The even rows with spiky stalks, overlooked by the trimmer, appeared to guard the dormant vines. Our path led us to the restaurant. An oasis in the middle of the Bekaa Valley.

Rustic furniture with large cushions haphazardly tossed around the long tables; gently dappled by sunlight twinkling through the trees. The warm aroma of freshly baked saj bread drifted across the threshold to greet us – weary travelers! Armed with piping hot manoushie; zaatar, cheese, cishek, and glasses of wine we filled the chairs. It seemed as if we’d entered our own time capsule. For the next three hours we ate, drank, chatted, and relaxed. The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, punctuated by the nargile smokers’ bubble sounds. The gentle pace was what struck me. Lebanon can tend to be a rather frantic place, but here, it was as if time were standing still.

Everyone changed seats at least four times, we all wanted to connect with each other, to share this tranquility, to add to our memories and make sure all were included. The games we’d brought lay untouched. It seemed that lethargy due to the “jaou” (mood) was winning as we stretched, sighed, and took another sip of wine. Nothing could break the mood, not even an annoying 4 year old screaming for attention from his unresponsive mother. Our “capsule” seemed to make it all flow right over our heads, drifting away… It was the kind of peacefulness you want to gather up and treasure, keeping it safe for a rainy day.

I’ve heard it said that much of what is wrong with society today is due to the fact that we don’t, “Take the time to share a cup of tea.” Or, could it be, “Sip a glass of wine…”