Beirut a Study in Contrasts

After much nail biting and web news reading we left Damascus with excitement and anxiety to cross the border into Lebanon. Politics, always tenuous in this country, were relatively stable so far as Al Jazeerah and the International Herald Tribune could tell. The Lebanese family in Kab Elias was welcoming, and the marathon was Sunday--all systems were go--so we bought bus tickets and left town.

The bus ride and the border crossing offered their own challenges that found us hauling our bags out of the bus and returning to the Syrian border in an expensive old Mercedes taxi. Two hours later, when the taxi brought us through the Lebanese border unscathed and descended the twisting mountain pass onto a breathtaking, albeit hazy, sunset view over the concrete high rises and sprawling city of Beirut, I felt only excitement. As the sunset we gratefully threw our bags down in our hostel, amazed that after so much vacillation, we were finally in Beirut!!!

We kicked off our stay with what Mercy fondly termed the "5 antacid walk across the war zone". We've never seen a city in this state, honestly, we were pretty jumpy. Armed with Mercy’s trusty roll of TUMS we walked into the beautiful and eerily deserted Beirut city center. French Mandate buildings with wide sidewalks and brightly lit luxury stores selling everything from Porches to baby clothes lined perfect, but empty, pedestrian streets. The Beirut city center was the scene of the worst fighting of the civil war of the 70s and 80s. The neighborhood was destroyed. In a bid for a brighter future, it has been almost completely rebuilt and renovated. We walked the upscale and empty streets past armored personnel carriers parked nonchalantly at major intersections, alongside razor wire spooled around the buildings and through check points manned by soldiers wielding machine guns. The scene was surreal, like walking around Disney Land moments before the gates open but for Beirut no one knows if or when the gate will open.

As we walked and wondered what we'd gotten ourselves into, we started keying into the contradictions of this city; between the noise of un-muffled scooters, the constant honking, cars spewing exhaust and the emblems of an impending civil war, there are posh store fronts, women strutting in mini-skirts and high heels and slick Lebanese sporting Audis, Mercedes and BMWs. A forest of cranes work incessantly building luxury towers across the street from hulking bombed out concrete shells, yesterdays luxury towers, now relics of the last civil war.

Across the street from this, in the newly hip Gemmayzeh neighborhood, life goes on "normally." The bars and restaurants are full late at night, the city seems vibrant though the locals claim it is quiet. We've met with several ex-pats working here and are doing our best to decipher the politics of the current crisis.

The short story is the president's term is up on the 24th of November and the parliament must choose, by consensus vote, a new president before that date. Constitutionally the president must be a Maronite Christian. The other 15 religious sects in the government demand their interests be met and struggle to find common ground. The parliamentarians are further influenced by other international players: Syria, Hezbollah, Iran, France, and the US. No one is willing to hypothesize what happens on Sunday if they don't figure out a solution. The journalists in town all are waiting and wondering, the locals are carrying on but using the suffix "...if we're still here" after making plans. It's a strange time.

After a week here we are fascinated and feel suprisingly safe walking the streets. The political situation is chaotic but the biggest danger on the street is still the traffic. We're planning on leaving for Amman, Jordan on Friday but will leave sooner if the political situation changes.