240 Hours in Lebanon

240 Hours in LebanonBeirut is more than just one of the oldest cities in the world; it is an experience, a city unlike any other on earth. For most of its history, Beirut was a small fishing village on the Lebanese coast. When independence came in 1946, Beirut flourished and symbolized the hopes and aspirations of the Lebanese people. With a world class casino, a fashionable downtown and sunny beaches, Beirut is a sophisticated city that leaves other countries in the Middle East with “lifestyle envy.”

I had been waiting for 15 years for this moment. Finally my fiancé Josh and I decided to go back to my roots, my homeland, my Eden of Lebanon. Our trip had been planned since the day we met three years ago. Every night after the stress of the day, we sat over Ahwee coffee and discussed how to spend our 240 hours in Lebanon.

It wasn’t long ago that Beirut lay in rubble from countless years of civil war. With unrest behind them, the Lebanese have worked hard to return Beirut to its former glory. The downtown area, which was leveled during the war, has been completely rebuilt. All over the city, demolished buildings have been replaced with five-star hotels and fine restaurants. Today, Beirut is thriving, cosmopolitan and fashionable.

From Los Angeles International Airport to Beirut, Josh kept me busy recalling the things that make the Lebanese speak so highly of their land. All through the flight, I teased Josh about the anxiety he must be feeling over his first meeting with my father. In my mind’s eye I can picture my parents’ home in Raouche on Beirut’s seacoast with the waves hitting the shores every morning over espresso. I can almost smell the air. “The air?” he asks.

“Of course the air,” I reply. “The air overwhelms you. Like the fresh cut grass on the field on one of those big game days you always talk about.

“Yes, but the air in general? Air is…just air,” he reasons. Then he retreats to his book.

With 10 hours’ time difference and after a long layover in London, the anticipation builds as the pilot announces we are close to landing. You feel your heart beat. You are anxious, almost faint. Josh is so cute; I have never seen him so nervous. He is about to have the experience of a lifetime. The airport looks much different from the last time I was home. They have done an amazing job remodeling, and it really shows. The customs officer smiles at Josh. “First time in Lebanon?”

“He will be meeting my family shortly,” I tell him.

He seems pleased to hear it. The male bonding is instant, and Josh has his first friend in Lebanon.

"The average cab in Beirut is an old Mercedes, and if you are in Beirut for any period of time, taking a cab is unavoidable. "

Then, seemingly from nowhere, my family is running towards us. It was the loudest commotion I had heard in years. So many descending on us—cousins, neighbors, my brothers and their kids, old friends, Mom and Dad—over 25 in all. I was hearing enough Arabic words of endearment to fill a candy store:“Mommy, Habibi” (My love)“Ayouni”(The eyes of my soul)“Albee” (My heart)“Hayati” (Darling)

The avalanche of emotions swept over all of us. Through tears of joy, all my relatives hugged me and wanted to ask a million questions. They held me and would not let go. For Josh, a reunion means a light hug and handshake from his mom, dad and brother. You could see that he was in culture shock—on the outside looking in. Then one of my uncles gave Josh the biggest bear hug, bringing him into the center of the emotional tornado.

You could feel the tension when people fell silent as Josh and my father came face to face. The two men approached each other, and my father said, “Ya halla bil sohr.” Josh looked puzzled until I translated. “He says, welcome to my future son-in-law.” Without a word, Josh gave my father a hug, and the entire family started to cry and cheer. The celebration was back on.

Before checking Josh into the hotel, my family insisted that we join them at their home at the Raouche. The Raouche is quite something to behold. The Pigeon Rocks, a group of huge formations set in a cove on the Mediterranean, are among the most dramatic sights of Beirut. They make a perfect backdrop for the nightlife that this area is famous for. Our drive from the airport gives Josh a tantalizing sample of what lies ahead for him.

The scene at the family home was straight out of our airport greeting. Expressions of hospitality on every side. Mezza a mile long—baba ghanouj (mashed eggplant dip), tabouli (chopped Italian parsley with bulgur and lemon juice), stuffed grape leaves, olives, foul (fava beans with garlic, lemon and olive oil)—accompanied Arabic coffee and chai (tea). All the vegetables were grown locally and hand picked, probably a few hours before.

The height of fun was watching Josh practicing his Arabic with my aunts as they practiced their English with him. Each new visitor’s arrival meant another round of coffee, tea and mezza and catching up.

Even though he seemed to be having fun, I apologized to Josh for plunging him into this hectic unfamiliar scene after such a long flight. But he insisted that he was enjoying the experience. “I love the passion your family brings and the way they take care of you. When one’s needs are taken care of so graciously—that’s the ultimate luxury.”BeirutOn the first morning in Beirut, we were awakened by the sun shining through the balcony window, and it was time to explore this exciting new city. We went for a short walk up Hamra Street before breakfast. The shopkeepers were busy unlocking and rolling up the metal shutters. The newspaper vendors were putting out new magazines and papers on their stands, and the noise of the taxis and traffic was invigorating.

“There is no way around it—Beirut has the most irritatingly, frustrating taxi system of any city in the world, including Manhattan,” Josh said. “Look at the way they drive with such reckless abandon!”

The taxis honk their way through chaotic traffic, the drivers pay little attention to lights or right of way, and lanes scarcely exist. The average cab in Beirut is an old Mercedes, and if you are in Beirut for any period of time, taking a cab is unavoidable. The only advice I can really give is to bring along patience and a sense of humor. It’s all part of the Lebanon experience.

Nearly everyone who has spent any time here has a favorite man’oushe, aka Lebanese pizza. This cultural phenomenon seems to grow with each passing year. Village bakers open their ovens to locals 24 hours a day. Many bring their own ingredients to top the thin crispy bread. If you want to choose from the menu, it isn’t all that simple, with up to 70 different recipes, depending on which bakery you go to. Our top choice? The jibne wa zaatar (cheese with zaatar, powdered thyme).

Beirut is buzzing. Joggers weave in and out among pedestrians; carts selling freshly baked flatbreads dot the street; sidewalk cafes are filled with people lingering over rich Ahwee, fishermen line the shore in search of the perfect catch. Flirtation is ever present, with young men, thinking ahead to the weekend, sizing up young women for dates. From this perspective you can see why the Beirut Corniche is the hub of activity in Lebanon.

“There’s something about the waters of the Mediterranean,” says Malek, who sells a popular brand of coffee at the Corniche. “The breeze, when it touches your face, awakens your senses and makes them very much alive. The air sneaks into you while driving up the mountain. There’s the scent of lemon and orange as you travel south. And then again there’s something about the way the ice and snow mix with the Cedars when you go to the north. Egypt has the Nile. We have the air. When you’re here, the air tells you you’re in Lebanon.

"Each year Baalbek hosts a music festival that brings in some of the world’s greatest talents to perform against this awesome backdrop. International stars regard the festival’s invitation as a great honor."

 

 

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