Spending a night under the stars, trees towering overhead, and the scent of wet earth filling up your lungs constitutes the perfect escape—a complete disconnect from the outside world. But, I know firsthand that a certain refined (let’s call it expensive) sensibility cannot fathom sleeping in a bag, eating food that expands as it hydrates, or slathering ointment on mosquito-bitten skin. Trust me, I’m hardly a spoiled princess, and yet I bailed on my last new year’s camping trip just twelve hours in—a walk of shame complete with cracked lips and my spirit thoroughly defeated.
In an effort to reconcile my wild, spontaneous spirit with my pampered soul, I’ve vowed that my adventures will always lead back to a hot shower and a real bed. That’s how I discovered “glamping,” my night in shining armour, that truly swooped me off my feet, and the only way I can survive a night stranded in the arms of nature.
That compromise materialises—quietly, intentionally—in Kfardebian,a mountain town in Lebanon’s Keserwan District known for its pine forests, ski slopes, and panoramic views of the surrounding peaks. Here, nestled into the woodland, is The Dome—a cluster of luxury glamping domes that doesn’t ask you to rough it, nor does it sever your relationship with nature. Instead, it stages an encounter between the two. You’re still swallowed by trees, still breathing in damp earth and pine, still isolated from anything that resembles city life. Only now, there’s a bed (complete with plush bedding and throw pillows) waiting for you at the end of the day, and a hot shower that doesn’t feel like moral failure.
From the outside, the domes almost seem to have landed by accident: curved, geodesic structures rising from the forest floor, glass fronts offering uninterrupted views of the mountains and trees beyond. Each unit is designed to feel both open and intimate, with large windows that frame the natural world like ever‑changing art. Inside, a king‑sized bed faces the landscape, a cosy corner invites sprawling on a sofa, and a bathroom stocked with hot water awaits at the end of the day—a far cry from sleeping on the ground. Many of the domes also come with private outdoor spaces—jacuzzis tucked into the clearing, seating areas for two under the stars, fire pits for wine and whispers, and views that stretch back to the forest and up to distant peaks. Whether it’s your first time in the mountains or your tenth, that terrace transforms into a front‑row seat to a kind of stillness you only find far from the city.
Inside, the atmosphere is a quiet dance between nature and design. Wood grain echoes the tree trunks just beyond the glass, neutral tones mirror stone and soil, and light filters through the curved walls, shifting from pale morning glow to honeyed dusk and finally to the intimate darkness of night. Each element feels borrowed from the landscape—not imposed upon it. At The Dome, the wilderness doesn’t demand sacrifice. It invites you into its heart, hands you a key, and lets you experience the drama of the outdoors without asking you to earn it through suffering. Adventure and ease coexist here, side by side, under the pines and stars, whispering that sometimes, the perfect escape isn’t about roughing it—but about feeling utterly alive.