Downtown Beirut
I have heard this question from almost every Lebanese person with whom I’ve talked to on my two visits to Lebanon. They ask in the nervous manner of an amateur chef inquiring about a meal he has just prepared for you. They await your response with what is sometimes literally breathless anticipation. There is a deep-seated self-consciousness about how foreigners perceive their country. This is a generalization to be sure, but I’ve made this observation to a number of Lebanese. They've all agreed with it to some degree. Relax, I feel like saying. You’ve got a lovely country. Please, breathe easy.
The wedding reception. Restaurant @ Le Gray Hotel
I suppose the anxiety is warranted considering most American (if not most Western) views of Beirut are grossly distorted. The name Beirut conjures images of the city circa 1984. That Beirut is preserved in amber, engulfed in perpetual civil war. People in the states, when I tell them I’m headed to there, invariably ask, “Is it safe?” Their minds no doubt conjuring visions of men running from building to bullet-pockmarked building armed with Kalashnikovs, avoiding mortar fire. It’s lamentable that we’ve been at war in the Middle East coming upon a decade and most of us Yanks couldn’t pick out Iraq on a map let alone be bothered to understand the basic regional dynamics.
After-hours party at BO18
Granted I’ve made my visits here under the best of circumstances: accommodations in a nice apartment in the solidly middle-class Hamra district near the university, all expenses pretty much covered by my maddeningly gracious hosts, but I find the city incredibly hospitable. Everyone I've met has made me think the Lebanese are a naturally gregarious bunch. You step foot in a place and find yourself amidst strangers offering smiles and warm embraces, eager to chat me up about anything and everything from the World Cup to local politics.
Baalbek
It probably doesn’t hurt that some of the most beautiful natural landscapes you’ll ever come across surround you. Does wonders for the disposition I imagine. From the picturesque Mediterranean to the verdant mountains and valleys, the scenery is often arresting; you’re compelled to stop and let your eyes drink it all in. I’m told Beirut is one of the top vacation spots in the Middle East. I’ve no reason to doubt it.
Despite the vast expanses of land visible all around, the actual urban landscape is densely packed. Streets feel crowded with vehicles. A dearth of sidewalks means pedestrians and moving cars are always in uncomfortable proximity to one another. The traffic would fray the nerves of anyone unaccustomed to vehicular anarchy. Many times I saw autos packed like clown cars with people spilling out of the top or a van with plastic deck chairs for seats.
Lebanese celebrate German win over England
Motorcycles and mopeds are ubiquitous, but helmet use is practically non-existent from what I’ve seen. It’s funny how as an American this jumps out at me right away and I find myself having a strong paternalistic reaction. I found this simultaneously amusing and horrifying. Out of morbid curiosity I’d like to analyze Beirut’s traffic accident and fatality statistics in order to see how they compare to more conventionally regulated cities. Despite the loosely organized chaos of the streets, I never felt unsafe, but then I was usually in a very big truck.
Nasrallah threatening to attack Israel. Big bark for such a tiny dog.
The term “third world” has fallen out of fashion, replaced with the far less patronizing “developing nation”-tag. Lebanon feels like the quintessential developing nation. Downtown Beirut seems as vibrant and cosmopolitan as any medium-sized Western city or perhaps even Tel-Aviv. You’ll find Nike and Prada stores next to chic hotels and boutiques. There are numerous billboards advertising luxury condominiums and commercial developments aplenty. But this affluence is concentrated in small pockets around the city. Poverty remains pervasive. Ramshackle housing, rolling blackouts and a neglected infrastructure are the reality for most Lebanese. Coupled with an anemic labor market and a frequently dysfunctional government, it’s clear why those who can leave ultimately do.
Sky Bar. Surprisingly not full of d-bags
As my host has said on several occasions, there are four times as many Lebanese living outside of Lebanon as within. This diaspora has arguably been a net positive for the Lebanese people, but it has undoubtedly caused the country to suffer. The brain drain in Beirut reminds me of what’s happening in Detroit and other industrial dinosaurs trying to claw a foothold into the 21st century. In the case of Lebanon, it seems to be a combination of things: a weak government dogged by systemic corruption, a standard of living that can’t compete with Beirut’s more enticing Western neighbors and external interference from the likes of Syria and Iran. This pressure has immeasurably impeded the maturity of the nation. Frustration regarding this reality is never far from the surface of most Lebanese.
I have often heard young, educated and driven Lebanese expats speak of the growing ambivalence they feel towards their country. They have a sincere and deep-rooted desire to return for myriad reasons. What stops them is a lack of agency. They feel unable to effect significant change in the country especially in a place where political assassinations are commonplace. Still, there is a strong sense of pride among the expat community and if things settled down, I could see many resettling. I would bet on an organic democracy emerging in Beirut within the next couple of decades. The soil is still just a bit too hard for it now, but when I look around it just feels inevitable.
Despite all this, there are things about the country that come as a pleasant surprise. From what I’m told Beirut has a very low incidence of crime such as assault, theft, murder and rape. This is surprising for a number of reasons. The first is that there is no real police presence on the streets. You don’t see beat cops patrolling neighborhoods. You will see the random odd soldier manning an equally random and odd checkpoint. The second is that Lebanon is not a country under Islamic rule. The penal system is far less severe compared with that of some of its neighbors. They don’t have anything like Iran’s Basij wandering the streets, looking over everyone’s shoulder.
In many respects, Lebanese society feels exceptionally free. I tend to think the freer the place, the more susceptible it is to violence, but Beirut cuts against that theory. I’ve also heard that during the civil war, the streets were still relatively safe as long as you stayed away from the hot zones. Apparently there wasn’t much spillover into civilian life (aside of course from living in a literal warzone and all that entails).
Recently, there has been an effort to raise the visibility of the police. In the last few years, the sight of an actual cop car has become more commonplace. I don’t think they actually patrol or work a beat, but they seem to be moving in that direction. We even got to experience the inaugural implementation of some sort of traffic regulation when my friend was hit with a ticket for not wearing a seat belt at a highway checkpoint (where ironically another driver used the road's shoulder to circumvented said checkpoint altogether and didn't get so much as a stern look). This would have been unheard of a few years ago. We're talking about a place where traffic lights are more of a suggestion than a directive. It's encouraging to those of us who believe you need a government to enforce laws as "live and let live" only gets you so far.
Desecrating ruins. That's just how we roll.
I almost managed to stay out of trouble this time. No unauthorized mosque photos causing platoons of Hezbollah soldiers to descend on us. Instead I tried to take a picture of a military convoy truck much to the chagrin of the people I was riding with. The soldiers didn't seem to mind as I'm told a few of them waved at the camera as I took the photo. Unfortunately, their superiors weren't as gracious. We were pulled over and questioned for a few minutes while a baby-faced soldier cursed me in Arabic. I showed the officer in charge the offending photo and he made it clear that I was to delete it. Once I did, they let us go with only a warning not to go around snapping photos of the military.
"When in Rome" I suppose, but it still struck me as odd considering that soldiers and armored vehicles are pretty ubiquitous in the city and it's not even clear why. They're the equivalent of mall security. To make it worse, it seems in order to get a uniform you must have all traces of levity excised from your personality. These guys are utterly humorless. At least the Hezbollah guy smiled while he was interrogating us. And he let me keep my picture.
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