Beirut, Lebanon.
I can’t hear the word “Beirut” without also hearing the prefix “war-torn”, but although the building next door to the Intercontinental Phoenicia has suspicious looking damage:
the rest of Beirut that I’ve seen consists of car parks full of Ferraris next to marinas full of expensive power boats surrounded by hundreds of people enjoying the cafes and restaurants or walking along the corniche, which is what they call the seafront around here.
And then we have the Club Lounge at the Phoenicia:
Excellent canapes, superb local wines, impeccable service, and the personal attention of Mariam make this the best place to be in Beirut.
Mustn’t forget the hotel limo that collected me at the airport and was a slightly higher spec than the usual – a Bentley:
