I have arrived

Beirut, Lebanon—This morning I caught my first glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea. Last night it lay a black void on the edge of the city; today it was an undulating blue. I arrived after 10pm, the flight on schedule. At the airport I struggled to find a phone and then a phone card until an attendant at the rental car counter offered me his. I called my guesthouse and ten minutes later Sami Al Hamra appeared at the gate. He had a small boy in tow, who he introduced as his neighbor's kid. I introduced myself to the boy. He shook my hand then shied away, laughing, in the back seat.

This morning I awoke at seven. The reception desk was closed. I had decided to spend the morning at Saida, a small town south of the city, once noted as a prominent and wealthy Phoenician city. It dates back 6000 years.

The bus let us off near the old city. From there I made my way to the Soap Museum, sponsored by the Audi family. The museum is set in a house which boasts a small courtyard and cafe. There is little on display, but the soap they have for sale is beautiful. I picked up a free map and then proceeded to the Sea Castle on the edge of town.

Built by the Crusaders in the early 13th century, the castle was once the site of a temple to Melkart, the Phoenician Hercules. What remains is a battered shell of its former self. From there I proceeded to lose myself in the old quarter, trying to navigate the labyrinthine streets and alleyways. On looking for the Al-Omari-el-Kabir mosque, I wandered into a side courtyard. A boy directed me to the main entrance. I followed the motion of his hands and found myself in my first mosque. The courtyard was elegant, the arched hallway hung with wrought iron lanterns. A man prayed in the main sanctuary.

From there I toured the Ottoman Debbane Palace, where the rooms on all three floors circled an open central room. The views from the roofs was unparallelled.

Returning to Beirut, I walked past the masses of taxi drivers at the station to the National Museum. A short film exhibited its reconstruction after the war. Scenes of the sarcophogi emerging from the concrete bunkers built to shield them were particularly moving, not the least of which for the music that played beneath the images and the dramatic use of slow motion photography. The elegant displays traced the historical development of Lebanese art through the ages. Links to Egyptian and Greek art were easily discernable. Perhaps the most beautiful were the mosaics that were preserved, one depicting the seven wise men placed in the center of the main floor.

On leaving I asked if I could catch a bus to Raouche. The guard told me he didn't think the buses were running. A woman told me I could wait across the street and try my luck. The driver of the number 24 bus told me to wait for "one five." A small bus passed, a man called out "Raouche! Ain-el-Mreisse!" I climbed in.

He dropped me off at the Pigeon Rock. The two stone towers reminded me somewhat of Tanah Lat, as the sea had carved an opening through one. A man with a polaroid camera offered to take my picture. He showed me a photo where the water was an impossible blue. I declined, but shortly thereafter a group of Lebanese men engaged his services. Further on, another photographer shot a woman against the setting sun.

I wandered further then paused at the Palace Cafe. This morning I had driven along the sea, staring at it from the window of the moving bus. This afternoon I sat beside it. The sea salted the air. I sat and ate a plate of hummus and drank a small pot of Turkish coffee. Nearby, at table 99, three women gossiped and smoked a fruit filled nargileh. The sweet smoke washed over me, as if carried on the waves. Nearby, a single fisherman stood on a small promontory, casting his fate into the sea. Posted by eku at April 29, 2004 12:02 PM