Place I never thought I'd end up in #37: Beirut

Beirut is a lot like Barcelona. Typical of Mediterranean countries, Lebanon caters to a lot of carnal desires. In the capital, clubs have no curfews, you can smoke indoors, shishas are as ubiquitous as 24h "service" taxis ($1 to any side of town), and good food and strippers are pretty affordable and never far away. But sadly Lebanon's history, and likely its future, is bloodier than a halal steak.

Just 3 years ago this site was bombed by Israelis, killing dozens of civilians. The absurdly disproportional bombing of civilian neighbourhoods was in retaliation to Hezbollah taking hostage 2 Israeli soldiers.

(Short history : when Israel was formed in '48, a lot of Palestinians were exiled to Southern Lebanon, causing a massive disbalance in Lebanese society. As a result of this, the PLO and more recently Hezbollah, who have been fighting with Israel ever since, were formed.)

Saba and I visited the Shatila Palestinian refugee camp in the south of the city, where a massacre had occured during the Lebanese Civil War in 1982. A filigree of bullet holes is still prominently seen above the shack-stores that used to be buildings.

I did not dare take my camera out as we walked through the actual camp. Needless to say the conditions were pretty emblematic of a slum: narrow, maze-like streets, overpopulation etc. On the outskirts of the camp children rummage through a rubbish dump.

Further down the road, things are looking better...

We wandered into a "Beauty Salon", and ended up being adopted by the family who own it.

The family were vaguely Shi'a - though the wife did not wear a scarf - but fervent supporters of Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of Hezbollah, like many in the area. (Hezbollah, though regarded as a terrorist organization in the West, has veto power in Lebanese parliament, and is a fairly popular political faction. They provide health care and education in addition to having an arm with a more radical resistance agenda.) In this picture, little Hammoud, who thinks he actually is Spider Man, eats an enormous watermelon below a photo of Sayed Hassan.

His younger sister, Marian also likes to play dress up.

Here she is pointing at a photo of her uncle, who died what they call a "martyr" at 17, fighting the Israeli army with the resistance.

All this probably makes it sound like our time with them was grim and politically charged, but we actually laughed and joked a lot, and learned a Lebanese dance and smoked shisha with the whole neighbourhood. The next day they took us to an all-women's beach, which was a lot of fun. It was just like a family resort, but with no men to ogle you. And all the women who wear a hijab can strip down to bikins and splash around a pool. Pretty special.


At a supermarket elsewhere they sell mugs with...faces of different party candidates. They also had ones with Sayed Hassan's mug. I smuggled a few of those babies across the border. Smuggled some mugs I did.

Not sure what this dude's deal was.

Brains? Anyone?

This is Raouche, one of the most famous landmarks in Beirut.

Eventually I got to hit up the hip indie bar circuit in Beirut. Here we see the inside of Denny's, on Hamra street, which is exactly 3 feet wide.

I met some pretty special people in Beirut, like Don, the Irish news journalist...

...and Jad, the uber-eccentric game theory mathematician. Whoa.

...and Tosh, a soon-to-be lawyer at Berkeley, who's really an indie kid at heart.

Beirut is no stranger to terrible biro wall art.

Or indie bands. This one in particular is Mashrou' Leila, one of the biggest rock bands in town.

Overall Beirut is a place where Muslims and Christians have coexisted for centuries, and inclusiveness is not under question.

One of my favourite places in Beirut is called Assaha Village - a newly re-built "traditional village" that features the most beautiful restaurant ever - where Saba will one day have her wedding, inshallah! It has only but one downside - it's in a Shi'a quarter, and as such serves no alcohol.

On my way to-and-fro Beirut I had a stopover in Larnaca, Cyprus. A lovely sleepy resort town, where everything is magical and nice and pretty and no one hurries anywhere. Maybe it's something in the water, or maybe it's the Chillo...

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