We Lebanese love to travel. This is not surprising given that the Phoenicians set the bar quite high as far back as the first millennium BC when they created a trading empire that stretched from the city-states of Byblos, Sidon and Tyre to the straits of Gibraltar. Admittedly there was a bit of a lull after that until the latter part of the 19th and the early 20th century, when thousands of Lebanese once again took to the high seas, this time mainly to Brazil, the US and Australia, while nearly a century later the civil war created another wave of migrants.
Today we are flung far and wide, plying our trade from Seattle to Sydney and all stops in between. For the Lebanese, travel is more than just a case of jetting off for a mini-break to Malaga or a hen night in Budapest; it is an existential exercise in making one’s way in life.
I was thinking about all this after a close encounter with a determined, and might I say, extremely knowledgeable, luggage salesman at a well-known UK department store last week. Since becoming a member of the diaspora, I am on the road a lot and felt I should get acquainted with the latest luggage gadgetry available.
The initial exchanges were harmless enough. Would I like a carry-on? Yes. Four wheels or two? Two. (Apparently this is important because two wheels often means gaining an extra couple of centimetres of room, which is crucial in the age of the luggage police).
“This one,” he said, leaning over and grabbing a violet purple bag, “has a lot of room and still falls within easyJet and Ryanair’s regular allowance. But if you want to be sure you can take your bag on board,” he reached up to a top shelf and brought down something marginally bigger than a wash bag, “I would go for this. Its dimensions guarantee it will stay in the cabin when other bags have to be stored in the hold.”
Our man changed tack. “Are you on a budget?” he asked. “Because if not, and you’re serious about investing in the latest technology [his word] then perhaps you might consider this,” he said, leading me to a black suitcase standing alone and proud. “The Samsonite Blade 2.0,” he beamed. “It’s our best-seller.”
His admiration for the Blade 2.0 was palpable. He didn’t just hold it. He demonstrated its features with the focus of an assassin assembling his rifle. The locks snapped open and the zips glided, revealing ergonomically styled compartments for a laptop, a suit and a wet bag. With its multi-pocket TSA lock with cable closure, it was, he said, “the cutting edge of luggage for serious business travellers”.
Clearly leaving the best for last, he revealed yet another seam that allowed the case to concertina by about 5cm. “When you need extra space it’s there for you sir. If not, the case can be shrunk. Very handy when travelling on certain airlines,” he said knowingly.
Certain airlines maybe, but not MEA. Middle East Airlines, Lebanon’s national carrier, has been much maligned of late. Earlier this year, I called it “another example of unfulfilled Lebanese potential” and an “overpriced taxi service for expats”. I had my reasons, but there is one area in which the carrier excels: soothing excess baggage anxiety. Seasoned Lebanese travellers pay little attention to weight allowance. When you come from a culture that doesn’t do anything – dressing, grooming, shopping or eating – by halves, limits of any kind are hard to accept.
The next day, I was at Heathrow to catch ME 202 to Beirut. I scanned the trolleys to see just how many of my countrymen had embraced the idea of travelling light.
As it was the trolleys were reassuring overloaded, as were the pregnant suitcases and the check-in staff were braced for the onslaught of requests to waive, or at least be flexible with, excess baggage fees. The airline is flexible and the reason, I believe, many people still use MEA is because of its patience in dealing with arguably some of the most difficult passengers on Earth.
I looked down at my battered and decidedly un-ergonomic bag and decided that there was life in the old dog yet.
Michael Karam is a freelance writer who lives between Beirut and Brighton
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