Following the tragedy of the country had turned me into an insomniac, the kind who finds a book so mesmerising that he cannot close the pages and put out the light. On and on he reads, into the early hours. Just one more chapter. Then, still reading, he looks up and sees to his surprise the dawn peeping through the curtains. I had been reading all night and and now I had thrown open the curtains and here I was in the dawn, looking across the green fields and mountains of Israel.

Robert Fisk, Pity the Nation: Lebanon at War

My time in Lebanon felt much like this, I became obsessed by reading about the country’s recent history. My final night I sat up until the small hours, devouring the final chapters of Pity the Nation.

When I woke in the morning, throwing open the curtains revealed the Mediterranean stretching out. Behind me rose the snow-covered mountains of the Mount Lebanon Range. In between, a strange mix of Palestinian refugee camps, huge commercial investment, pockmarked buildings and hip bars.

This is a country I want to come back to.