Beirut

Having grown up in the Western Suburbs of Sydney, I spent a lot of my adolescences along the Canterbury-Bankstown line. Bankstown, Punchbowl, Lakemba, Belmore, Campsie, Canterbury, an ethnic melting pot of immigrant families. Thinking back to my high school days our group was the very definition of multiculturalism, Indians, Koreans, Chinese, Vietnamese, Indonesians, Filipinos, Cambodians, Burmese, Fijians, Greek, Iranians, Samoans, Lebanese, many more. The list reads like the Olympic Village roll call. Being exposed to the different people, led to exposure to the different cultures.

When you think of an Australian "Lebo", you can't help but imagine the stereotypical character. "Yallah" this, "Habibbi" that, terrible haircut, loud sports car. However growing up with so many Lebanese friends, I remember the gregariousness, the brashness, the humour, the unfiltered presence. So when Lebanon was floated as a possible destination for a bachelor's party. I was immediately on board.

The logistics of traveling from Hong Kong to Beirut is not an easy feat. Firstly, you need to take a 9-hour flight to Doha, followed by an interconnecting 3-hour flight from Doha to Beirut. However, once you arrive you can't help but fall in love with the city. A sun-kissed city, with constant civil war reminders. Serving amazing food and equally welcoming people. Bumped into the odd Australian Lebanese expat whilst exploring the city. Such a great four days abroad.

I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to travel to the Middle East. I'm also grateful that my group of friends make me laugh so much, the quickness, observational aptitude and general good vibes.

I also managed to check off one of my bucket list items, devouring an authentic Lebanese Kebab in the early hours of the evening after a night out drinking.

(The Thriller,) In Manila

In response to the global economic downturn, organisations were forced to streamline operations and go through the unfortunate process of culling the labour force. Financial institutions went through countless job-cutting exercises, with wave after wave of announced redundancies; it would seem nobody was safe. It was seen as an exercise to 'cut the fat' and remove those positions that were no longer profitable/beneficial to the business. The East was not sheltered from the massacre, businesses needed to justify costs and the same people who previously approved headcount were soon having to draw the bottom line. As a result, the famous Lewis and Albert household came to an end in 2012 Q4. This is the house where many new chapters have started, where guests would visit routinely and where nights were immortalised. It was also the same place where I started my Hong Kong adventure.

Albert would later move in with an American-Born Filipino who kindly offered to give us a weekend tour of his local hometown, Manila. I was quietly excited as this was my first time to the Philippines and had heard good things. Our Friday afternoon flight had been rehearsed on many occasions, pack an overnight bag, leave work straight for the Airport express and get to the gate 30 minutes before departure. This, for the most part was routine. 

The problems started when our flight was delayed, passengers eventually boarded and we were soon in the air, I slept most of the trip. That was until I was abruptly awoke by the crackling of the PA system. The captain revealed that "unexpected delays in Manlia" had forced us into a holding zone . He also mentioned that planes were being diverted to the nearest airport and that our aircraft, CX913 had approximately 30 minutes left of fuel before we too would be forced to make the diversion. Fortunately for us, we managed to land (we later found out that the President was flying in that evening, hence the unexpected delays"). We landed almost an hour after the scheduled arrival time. At least we had made it!

We checked into the hotel where our friend's driver was waiting for us, he informed us that we would be going to the Skybar to hook in with the others who had arrived on an earlier flight. To say that the weather in Manila was torrential might have been an understatement. The rooftop bar with it's tarpaulin canopies were collecting water and periodically bucketing them onto those below. We quickly retreated to the comforts of a drier, more indoor location. The evenings were atypical, the days were spent lounging about pool side at the hotel or at the country club. It was a taste of Filipino High Society with the customary Jeepney ride. One of the highlights of the trip was the 5:30 am continental breakfast, suffice to say we never slept hungry.

(Crunchy Peanut butter at breakfast buffet = Loving life)