One of the highlights of the whole trip was the Horsh Ehden nature reserve near Bcharre, an idyllic place and home to lots of rare wildlife. Given my tendency to get lost, I was a bit cavalier going off, nobody else around, with a tiny map and a promise that the trails were waymarked, but it was OK. The path went through open woodland full of flowers and tall grasses, with butterflies and moths, then through pine woods where I glimpsed a fox-coloured animal that I like to think was a badger-striped hyena, and finally a wide track with steep rocks on one side, splashed with sweet scented broom, and a sheer wooded drop on the other to a river that I could hear but couldn't see. (I'm going to post a Horsh Ehden photo album.) When I got back to the café at the entrance, I was given a drink and not allowed to pay. This has happened a few times - the Lebanese are mostly very friendly and generous. In the markets, fruit is sold by the kilo, but because I only needed a handful of cherries or a couple of peaches, I would often be given them with a smile and "welcome!".

After a bright start, mist gradually wafted up from the valley and by the evening the view from my room was hidden in fog. I had my evening meal in a "pub restaurant" (a shack) and opted for the fish burger, which turned out to be 3 fish fingers in a bun. The TV was on, a comedy programme with very long commercial breaks - repeated, very tacky, ads for Ariel, Tide, Fairy Liquid and deodorant.

The next day I took a taxi to visit a grotto (a let-down after Jeita), with a driver just back from Beirut to work in Bcharre for the summer. He stopped every few yards to greet his many brothers, and on the way back insisted we go to his terraced garden of fruit trees, where he picked loads of unripe fruit for me! I wasn't sure I wanted him to take me over the mountains to Baalbek, so I went with a different driver, whose wife came along for the ride. On the way they waited while I walked round the very small remaining patch of Lebanon cedars (a few of the trees are 2000 years old). The drive wasn't scary like the guidebook said, but the scenery was stunning. We stopped at the highest point for photos, way above the piste. Then down into the Bekaa valley, the colour of lichen, dotted with trees, where marijuana was a profitable crop until the government stopped it. Now they grow tomatoes, potatoes and tobacco. (Apparently even 2 or 3 hundred years ago the government knew that tobacco was bad for the health, but didn't ban it because of the taxes it raised!)

The hotel I'd booked in Baalbek was horrible so I (and a Chinese couple) went elsewhere. I found a room which had a wood stove for the winter; its flue marched across the ceiling past a very ornate chandelier. I thought I'd seen enough ruins, but the 2000 year old ruins at Baalbek are astounding, and much more photogenic than Palmyra (see album).

After breakfast the next morning, where the charming elderly Palestinian manager kept me company, I took a minibus to the outskirts of Beirut (a huge, modern, European-style city I don't want to visit) and another to Sidon, or Saida, on the coast further south. The first night I stayed in, by my standards, a very expensive hotel in a lovely old stone building opposite the harbour; my window overlooked the Crusader sea castle. Determined to make the most of the luxury, I spent a lot of the day in the lounge, reading and watching the world go by from the window. Despite the $100 price tag, a lot of things didn't work and the service was appalling, so I only paid $60 before I decamped to a cheaper hotel round the corner. I loved the fishing port and took lots of photos of the old wooden boats and talked to some of the fishermen. There was a group of very well-behaved little schoolchildren there, all dressed in green checked overalls. Sidon has a museum explaining how the traditional olive oil soap is made (they used to use the olive pits and pulp for fuel - nothing wasted). The museum is in a beautiful, air conditioned old building, with a café that serves "white coffee" - orange flower water in hot water - a pleasant place to escape the sultry heat. Sidon's souk is an ancient warren of vaulted cubbyholes and has at least 4 internet cafes, although everyone I asked said there isn't one in the town. The problem was finding them again! A girl of about 11 stopped me and practised her English, and two tiny girls demanded that I took their picture, then put their hands in my pocket, expecting baksheesh. What will they be like when they're older?!

On Tuesday I caught a minibus to Tyre, not far from the border with Israel, for the day. There are Roman ruins here, as well, but I only saw them from a distance. I spent most of the time dawdling around the headland and calling in at some of the beach cafes. I didn't like the souk there - there were sides of meat hanging in the passage, where you could brush against them.

On my last day, I got a bus into the mountains to Jezzine, a tiny town with a waterfall and views of the pine forests. I made friends with an elderly man who makes Jezzine's traditional horn-handled cutlery. The handles are carved into the shape of a bird, and inlaid with red, blue and silver. He showed me his workshop and explained the process, and I went with him and his friend to have Turkish coffee (yuk! - but it was that or a glass of water that had probably come from a tap!) and play patience, as they do every day at that time. I'd like to help him sell the cutlery somewhere like Harrods (a set for 6 costs $600), but he doesn't have a website or a proper catalogue so the prospects aren't good! I'll try to get his architect son to organise a website and decent photography for him.

Now I'm back in Damascus until it's time to fly home on Monday. I've done all the main tourist things, so I'm just pottering around off the beaten track and lounging in the hotel courtyard. A 2-day old Guardian was a treat yesterday!

Half the pics I tried to upload into the Sidon album refuse to be uploaded - grrrr!