As you stroll the bustling streets of Beirut, you’d be hard-pressed to notice that just three years ago an explosion 1/20th the size of an atomic bomb tore through the densely packed Lebanese capital. For the past two weeks I’ve been staying in Beirut’s trendy neighborhood of Gemmayzeh, which sits adjacent to where the explosion occurred. It was one of the hardest-hit areas. But still, to the untrained eye, you might not even know what happened.

Brand new shiny windows have been replaced on most of the neighboring structures. Trendy bars and coffee shops are packed with digital nomads and modelesque Lebanese men and women, a not-too-subtle reminder that this is the homeland of Shakira and Salma Hayek. Ferraris curiously sit parked on the dark cobblestone streets, hinting towards a hidden trove of wealth in Beirut that one would imagine does not exist. And while joyous citizens stroll the city’s waterfront, the fresh herb aroma of the world-renowned Lebanese cuisine — arguably as famous as the country’s celebrity exports — lofts around the city corners.

But upon further inspection, some of the city’s scars reveal its unfortunate past.

The odd unlucky building remains abandoned with blast debris still left littering the floors. Military blockades prevent access to a once bustling plaza that became the center of anti-government protests. On the side of a 26-story eyesore in the city center, blast damage paints over concrete previously peppered with bullet holes and artillery strikes, reminders of the 1980s religious-fueled civil war that haunts the country’s past. And Lebanese merchants will constantly remind you of the country’s financial strife, meticulously inspecting dollar bills for any imperfections that may lead a bank to not accept them.

To the outside visitor like myself, the 5,000-year-old city exudes so much energy. I might go as far as to say happiness. But clues still stand starkly in broad daylight that illuminate a tumultuous past — a series of one unfortunate event after another.

I must say, when I started this life-change-fueled travel journey 22 months ago, I definitely did not have “ending the trip in Lebanon” on my bingo card. The last twelve months of my travels had taken such a logical, methodical route counter-clockwise around the Indian Ocean. But staying true to the spirit that guided me around the world, I let my experiences and intuition dictate my journey. The result was a pitstop in Lebanon.

I’ve been studying French for eight or so months, and it just so happens that my teacher is from Beirut. While Arabic is the most widely spoken language, there is still an enclave of francophone Lebanese — the residual effects of WWI where Lebanon, a spoil of war, was awarded to the French. So when my teacher extended an invitation, I figured “why not?”. Having an “in” in a new country always enhances the experience.

Thus for the past two weeks I have been provided a local’s glimpse of life in the tiny Middle Eastern country. I have strolled across the city streets from end to end, watching firey sunsets dip below the Mediterranean horizon. I’ve joined the aforementioned easy-on-the-eyes Lebanese socialities and remote workforce in surprisingly expensive coffee shops. And I’ve become dangerously obsessed with zaatar — a Lebanese spread featuring an array of herbs and flavors that pleasure the entire spectrum of my taste buds.

I’ve also linked up with the local surf scene. I was particularly surprised by the dedicated surfers who glide on the tiny summertime swells of the Mediterranean. While the sport is certainly in its infancy, an admirable surf community has sprung on the country’s shore, aided by a few Lebanese Americans who learned to surf in the States. Now they have returned to the motherland to share their passion for riding waves.

The Lebanese have so much to complain about: a financial crisis, port explosions, government corruption, daily power cuts, war-induced mass exodus, armed militias, etc. And don’t get me wrong, the Lebanese are not afraid to harshly lament these troubling issues. But behind the facade of misery, there is an admirable spark of life to be discovered in the country. I’ve genuinely enjoyed this odd turn of life that has brought me to Lebanon. It’s worthy of a grand finale to top off this two-year journey around the globe.