Lebanon in a Picture

Fit for a King. We’d tried the door, which for some reason, was locked. We’ (Beiteddine Palace)

Fit for a King. We’d tried the door, which for some reason, was locked. We’ (Beiteddine Palace) Fit for a King. We’d tried the door, which for some reason, was locked. We’d tried finding someone, to see if they would open the room up for us, but there there no one official around. So that’s how I ended up with my face squeezed through the grille over the window, nose an inch or two from the glass. The room, which I seem to recall being open to visitors in the past, looked even more sublime than I had remembered. It was mostly shrouded in shadow, although patches of light streaming in from a window in the far right corner of the room played over the sumptuous purple velvet diwan and the window I was looking through revealed some of the detail on the gorgeous wall panelling. Normally, I’m not a fan of this kind of woodwork. I find it too heavy and the penchant towards muddy colours, meant to suggest instant age (and thus pedigree), unappetising. But these examples were at least two, if not three hundred years old and so their patina was earned. Now I just had to figure out how to get a decent shot. The window I was pressed up against began just above my sternum, so looking through the bars was not comfortable and the design of the grille made it tricky to hold the camera flush against the glass. My first shot was too dark, my second, overblown, my third grainy (I’d cranked the ISO up too far) and my fourth, hopelessly shaky (I had increased my exposure to get the light balance right but hadn’t stood still enough). But after a little fiddling and several shots taken holding my breath (to reduce camera shake) I managed to get the shot I wanted. The purple was deep enough to make a Tyrian blush and the walls glowed a deep orangey-gold. The only thing that would have made it better is if I’d been inside, reclined and wrapped in a kaftan, sipping sherbet from a silver cup.
by wsinghbartlett / Instagram