"Lebanon is all safe," she said. "You don't have to worry. We occasionally have some shootings and explosions, but I don't think you'll have any of that now. Nobody will rob you. They are too concentrated on the shootings and explosions to do that. We do shootings and explosions in Lebanon. We have not started robbing people."

It was a recommendation only heard from a person used to living in a war zone. The post-traumatic stress that the Lebanese suffer was so intense that Sarah was actually applauding the fact that solo travelers carrying expensive cameras were not likely to be robbed because of how caught up potential thieves were with the shootings and explosions that frequently rocked their country.

Beirut deserved the good word however. The city, built along the Mediterranean, was modern and beautiful except for the southern suburbs which were the ramshackle cinderblock mess that compose slums in many developing nations, though in Lebanon they had the added repute of having been bombed by Israel during the July 2006 war.

The city was also empty. Beirut supposedly had a population of over 2 million, but the statistic did not match the number of people walking around or the number of cars on the streets. Many restaurants and shops were closed, the doors were locked and chairs and merchandise were stacked inside.

When asking about the lack of people, I was told Beirut was actually filling back up. Hezbollah had just ended its yearlong takeover of Downtown and Michel Suleiman, the head of the army and therefore a neutral figure, had been appointed president after an 18-month deadlock between the pro-West government and the pro-Syrian opposition that Hezbollah was a part of.

Hezbollah, the Shiite militia was suddenly becoming one of the most self-confident forces in the Middle East. They could claim to have defeated Israel's July 2006 attempt to wipe them out and last May easily took over West Beirut, cementing their position as Lebanon's most powerful armed force. The army, fearing being split along ethnic lines, had refused to act.

Clearly, it was Hezbollah who were the people to talk to in Lebanon. I went to Qana, one of the last towns before the border with Israel and, accidentally, met Hezbollah Man #1 in a restaurant off the highway.

He didn't want to give his name and sat shoveling food onto my plate and closely watching me chew, as if deciding how well I was enjoying the meal he'd insisted on buying me. When I had eaten the last of the food he nodded and assented to questions.

"Who is Hezbollah?" I asked.

"Hezbollah is all the people of my house," he said. "They are defending their lands, the farmers, and the houses. They are not terrorists. They are the party that defends Lebanon when the government can't anymore. The government is not qualified. The government can't defend Lebanon. Hezbollah is everyone."

He went onto say that Hezbollah could make peace with Jews, but not Zionists and that Hezbollah would only turn in their guns when they were "sure of real peace." Then he handed me a piece of gum and I went off to Sidon for an arranged meeting with Hezbollah Man #2.

Along the way I stopped in Qana and visited the place were in 1996 Israeli shelling had killed 106 people at a U.N. compound during an operation called "Grapes of Wrath." True to the frustrating nature of history, repetition, the 1996 massacre was followed during the July 2006 war by the bombing of a home just outside of Qana that killed 28 people in an event that became known as the "Second Qana Massacre." Near to where the bombs hit I met one of the survivors who, when I asked if she supported Hezbollah, said, "Of course. If this happened to you, you would go with the devil himself to get back."

In Sidon, Hezbollah Man #2 said, "If you understand Hezbollah, you understand Lebanon. You cannot take Hezbollah out from the structure of this country."

Looking at me with a progressively larger sneer he began some punditry. He believed the British had divided Greater Syria with the Sykes-Picot agreement in order for Israel to exist surrounded by weak states.

"The role of the U.S. is changing," he added. "They are trying to control the Middle East through Lebanon. We are an easy country to find an excuse to manipulate because of Hezbollah and the people being united behind them. Hezbollah stood up to Israel."

As it is with the majority of the conflicts in the region, the root cause of the Israeli-Lebanese war is the very existence of Israel. The two countries have officially been at war since 1948 and only show signs of furthering their antagonisms. Responding to attacks carried out by Palestinian militants launched from southern Lebanon, Israel invaded Lebanon in 1977 and 1982 and then again in 2006, when Hezbollah carried out its now infamous kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers during a cross border attack.

Both Hezbollah Man #1, who said he was a fighter and Hezbollah Man #2, who said he worked in the organization's social services division, believed Hezbollah to be defending Lebanon from an imposed threat and kept repeating, "You would do the same in our position."

Five weeks later, after traveling through Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, I arrived in Israel.

It was a return to the West. Where in Arab countries there would be cinderblock villages sitting on the sides of hills, here the houses looked similar to the houses in American suburbs, big buildings that were surrounded by trees with planned and well constructed roads leading to them. Women walked around in tank tops and shorts. Signs advertising the option of buying alcohol were once again everywhere.

The suburban feel was punctured somewhat by all the guns. Eighteen-year-old soldiers walked around with rifles. Some were patrolling or guarding buildings. Most were either hanging around in groups or traveling home on weekend leave. The soldiers carried the rifles slung low across their backs, in a way similar to how rock stars sling guitars around themselves. The security guards at malls and cafes, and even some random people walking around, also were armed. "Israelis aren't sure when they'll run into the next Arab terrorist," one person told me.

The fears were valid. A few weeks later a 19-year-old Palestinian man rammed a car into a group of soldiers walking in Jerusalem. Fifteen were injured by the time they shot and killed him.

Israel had been created after the majority of the international community acknowledged the long history of Jewish persecution and need for a Jewish homeland. Many of the people I met in Jerusalem, especially in the Orthodox community, had been born in the United States or Europe and had immigrated to Israel in search of a place they belonged.

"I was born and bred Jewish. My parents always told me Hashem was going to bring us back to the holy land, that the people were already going. Now I'm here and it's great," said an American named Josh who had come to Israel two and half years ago.

Raised in Kentucky, Josh had owned 300 acres of land, two trucks, and two motorcycles, but said he was never interested in the materialism of the United States and had sold it all to move to Israel. He never felt he fit with the rest of America and was routinely hassled by the police for his beard and long hair.

"Everyone was Christian or from a Christian background. They would be like, 'You're a Jew. You killed Jesus.' I'd be like, 'What?'"

When I arrived in Shorashim, a village about 60 miles from the border with Lebanon, Steve Judah and his son Alex were pulling branches from their backyard out to the road.

"We're making a bomb shelter," Steve said.

During the July 2006 war Hezbollah fired thousands of rockets into northern Israel. Many fell near Shorashim, one rocket landing just 100 meters from the Judah's house.

While eating dinner one night Steve said, "You see the beam across the ceiling? That's the strongest beam in the house. We get under that when the rockets start and put our backs against the wall and wait. First there is a siren and then about 15 minutes later the rockets start hitting. When they hit they make big booms and everything shakes."

"Hezbollah is back and rearming," said Sophie, Steve's wife. "They're getting back into their bunkers stronger than ever."

"It's an unfriendly neighborhood," Steve said.

Shorashim was founded in 1982 as a socialist moshav for immigrants from the United States, and though the community had since lost most of its socialist tendencies the village still largely economically self-sustained from a series of businesses set up by its residents.

A fence and electronic gate had been built around the village after children from the nearby Muslim village of Shaab had been caught stealing bikes and toys.

There was not now much communication between the two villages, but Steve told me that when Shorashim had been founded residents of Shaab had actually sent a delegation to welcome the newcomers to the area. A joint children's daycare center had been set up and Steve's brother had served for a time as the "official communicator" between the two villages.

The daycare eventually closed however because of a lack of funding and today the two villages largely did not interact.

When I asked more about Shaab, Steve said the inhabitants of the village had actually been Jewish until a Muslim invasion in the 7th century.

"Mohammad preached expansionism and forced conversion," he said. "His initial followers were tough, warlike people and Islam spread fast. They made it all the way into Spain."

"Now they've made it to France," Alex said in reference to Paris's predominantly Muslim suburbs.

"Yes, now they're in France," Steve said.

Sophie said she was worried about a nuclear attack from Iran.

"A bomb shelter wouldn't do much against that, but then I suppose you really wouldn't have to worry about much anyway then," Steve said.

Did they expect another confrontation with Hezbollah? I asked.

"Yes," Steve said. "You know what they say when you're watching a play. If there is a gun right there on the mantel in the first act then it's going to be used by the last."

The bordering of Israel and Lebanon has created a death trap that individuals on both sides are unapologetic for. The Lebanese are sure of the imposition and aggression of Israel and Israelis are sure of their right to exist and protect themselves. In each case there is enough truth that an end to the conflict, as it is with seemingly all the Middle East conflicts, is not around the corner. Peace can't even be spoken of.

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Justin Vela is a freelance journalist. www.justinvela.com