Lebanon part I

As the plane made its final descent the mountainous city of Beirut appeared through the fog (I use the term 'mountainous' here liberally as the city is at sea level being a coastal town, but in comparison with Egypt, the hills of Beirut looked like the Himalayas). I had seen pictures before of Beirut, yet upon first glance from the window of the plane I was awed: the plethora of green vegetation mixed with the reddish soil typical of the Mediterranean was breath-taking. And yet there was something else that took my breath away with regards to the city's appearance but I couldn't immediately put my finger on it. I continued my conversation with the two young female high school teachers sitting adjacent to me in a combination of Arabic, French, and English. But as I turned to the window again I realized what was so stunning: it was the first time I had seen genuine rain clouds, not the mass of smog that envelopes the Cairo sky at dusk, in literally three months.

The airport was pristine and gleaming, and the public officials were courtous and helpful, and the processing of passengers was the most efficient governmental service I had seen in some time. Despite popular belief that I would be detained at the border in a place of supposed lawlessness where terrorists roam freely my first impressions of the country were similar to those I remember from my visits to France and Germany: welcoming and inviting.

After walking the city for a couple of hours, meandering from back alley to seaside, no one asked why an American would come to Lebanon, though it was apparent by the reactions to my response as to their inquiries of my nationality that few Americans frequented this place. The more common question was “Why are you learning Arabic? French and English are much better.”

I could certainly see how this place had earned the title the 'Paris of the Middle East'. It was, without a doubt, worlds away from Cairo. The French Mandate-Era had a profound impact on the area, reminding me more of Marseilles in the south of France than anything I have seen thus far in Egypt.

There is an interesting feeling to the city as well, without alarming my family who will inevitably read this, because of the quite noticeable military presence. In Egypt, with the exception of the heavily armed guards in front of the American embassy, the soldiers and police are mostly decorative, that is, placed strategically for intimidation and repression. In Cairo it is not uncommon to find police officers asleep, head resting on the open barrel of their AK-47s. In Beirut this is certainly not the case. Every five blocks or so you will see a small squad of military troops donning their black, white and gray camouflaged uniforms, and although some of the guns they tote are dirty, the chambers and actions of the guns are polished from recent use. In one building that had been ravaged by the civil war and never been renovated, the walls were completely torn off one side and jungle tarp mesh hung from the ceilings concealing the forty-odd soldiers who must have been housed there. Out front there were two large anti-aircraft mobile gun batteries. This, mind you, is but a 5 minute walk from the heart of downtown.

Another observation I found interesting was that the city of Beirut was literally plastered with poster with the words “truth الحقيقة" sometimes accompanied by pictures of Rafik Hariri, former Prime Minister of Lebanon who was assassinated in 2005. There is much speculation as to who was responsible for the assassination but as the posters clearly demonstrate the issue is still a hot topic in the hearts and minds of numerous Lebanese.

One final note before I go out to experience the infamous Beirut nightlife, several of the buildings in the downtown sector were constructed with a rosy granite. In all honesty, it reminded me of the capital and surrounding buildings in Austin. Beirut's buzzing downtown was just as green and the people were likewise extraordinarily friendly. They spoke a bit more Arabic and French than you would generally find in ol'Waterloo, but I can certainly live with that.