For its tiny size Lebanon has exceptionally diverse topography with a Mediterranean coastline, snow-capped mountains, forested valleys and deserts to explore.

Yet despite this landscape, most tourists in Lebanon ask ‘why are you in Lebanon?’ As though even when they’re in Lebanon they’re not sure of their own motivation for visiting a country that recently came through a 16-year civil war, and is seemingly continuously at war with neighbouring Israel. So why would you go to Lebanon?

Beirut gleams. A few gutted buildings remain, complete with bullet holes, but they are dwarfed by the polished opulent modern tower blocks that have replaced them.

Cranes litter the city, filling large spaces that are halfway between the derelict old and shiny new, standing on building sites with signs that indicate the future of the city: ‘Welcome to the rebirth of luxury living – contemporary apartments with drivers’ quarters.’

People don’t walk here, they drive brand new cars that guzzle fuel at 20 cents a litre. They don’t get drunk here, but they spend €15 plus on a drink so they are seen in a chic bar. And if anyone drops rubbish there is an army of poorly paid migrant workers to ensure downtown is squeaky clean.

Beirut seems to run on testosterone and credit; cars attempt to speed through standing traffic, men shout hysterically at each other, wearing designer sunglasses at night is the norm.

There is a proud arrogance and brashness here; an identity that says we’re living life now, not in the future, and we’re going to show you how good we are.

The government has to be complimented for the speed in which the city has been transformed. It’s incomparable to the city under siege during the brutal civil war that ended in just 1990.

One woman describes the difference: “A barrier divided two sides of Beirut and you couldn’t go to the other side.” Today it feels like a European city, complete with a pedestrianised centre lined with cafés housed in cute colonial style buildings with balconies.

Eighty kilometres along the urbanised Mediterranean coastline lies Tripoli, Lebanon’s second city (not to be confused with the Libyan capital). The old town is a maze of five-metre-wide streets, a giant bazaar of life as it has always been: cobblers, grocers, perfumers, sewers, bakers, jewellers, tanners and soap-makers.

Each has a single-room shop lit by a solitary light bulb. Some spill their goods onto the street but other shops are incredibly bare, just one man and his antique sewing machine. Tripoli has an extremely Arabic feel, and modest 14th and 15th century mosques have an unassuming place within the labyrinth.

The country’s landscape is as equally diverse as its atmosphere. An hour inland from the coastline lie a series of mountain villages 1,500 metres above sea level. Bcharre is dramatically perched on a cliff face, overlooking the cavernous Qadisha valley that fills with mist throughout the day.

The enchanting Cedar forest is nearby. These iconic trees are a national treasure and feature on the Lebanese flag. As the mist rises and shrouds the forest, it gives it a magical, almost fictional appearance, resembling a set from Lord of the Rings.

The area is devoutly Christian: new churches seemingly far too big for their population are proudly illuminated at night and rosary beads hang in every car windscreen.

The lush green scenery of the Qadisha valley is interrupted by ancient monasteries and the caves of hermits. Some caves have been there since the region was made Christian in the 4th century and come complete with bald, bearded monks in robes.

Religion in Lebanon is about more than worship. It is about identity and it defines people. Prayer beads, bracelets, clothes and language all symbolise identity.

While Beirut is multicultural, other places are either Christian or Muslim. They’re all equally friendly and hospitable towards foreigners, but an element of tension between the two identities hangs in the air.

Over a mountain pass isBaalbeck, where the new and the old of Lebanon are juxtaposed in harmonious balance. It’s home to some of the best preserved Roman architecture in the world.

Three giant Roman temples, built between the 1st century BC and 4th century AD have partially survived to this day.

The detail of the inscriptions and decoration is astonishing and each temple took over 100 years to be completed.

Baalbeck is also the headquarters of the political party and militant group Hizbollah. It recently withdrew from the government over an international tribunal into the assassination of ex-prime minister Rafik Hariri in 2005, a crime that the party has been inextricably linked to.

One of the organisation’s primary goals is the elimination of the state of Israel and it has been classified as a terrorist organisation by the US and the UK.

However, many people in Baalbeck feel Hizbollah are a lifeline as they fund education and healthcare programmes in this poorer southern region of the country. One person warned me that “without them, Lebanon would slowly become Israel”.

As everywhere in Lebanon, Baalbeck has a strong military presence; tanks peer out from underneath bombed out buildings and armed soldiers guard checkpoints. But this doesn’t feel disconcerting.

Lebanon feels incredibly safe and there is little chance that the uprisings in other Middle Eastern countries will be seen here. This country has already lived through a civil war that had a devastating effect on the population; 150,000, five per cent of the population, were killed and approximately 900,000 were displaced from their homes.

“It felt like it would never end,” a shopkeeper explains. “People changed sides, brothers fought brothers, people forgot why we were fighting.”

Modern Lebanon has been described as a blend of cultures. Which it is. It feels Arabic, European and Mediterranean, but never in the same place.

But while other countries have similarly varied identities, Lebanon is such a small country. As one woman said to me: “There are no rules here.”

It’s as enthralling a country as you could possibly visit, full of a strange intrigue and fascination; a place where cultures and identities collide. A common thread through each identity is their pride in being Lebanese, a pride that says this is our Lebanon and we will define it.