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The Beauty Of Beirut

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  • The Beauty Of Beirut

    THE BEAUTY OF BEIRUT
    By Fergal Keane

    Daily Mail (London)
    April 1, 2006 Saturday

    Lebanon may not be your first choice for a family trip, but the BBC's
    Special Correspondent is spellbound.

    LET'S get the negative stuff out of the way first. My mother-in-law's
    question spoke for nearly everyone we knew. In her inimitably
    down-to-earth, west of Ireland manner, she asked: 'What, in the
    name of God, are you going to that place for?' For a moment, I was
    stumped. I tried talking about the Beirut I knew and loved but I
    could hear my credibility as a son-in-law draining away with every
    word. Mrs Flaherty spoke for many.

    Most of our friends consider the Middle East as a place to be avoided
    and regard the word 'Beirut' with varying degrees of dread.

    For them, it is still the city where Terry Waite, John McCarthy and
    Brian Keenan were kidnapped by Islamic extremists and held for years.

    And yet more civilians have been killed by terrorists in London in
    the last year than in Beirut, a statistic the Lebanese would be far
    too polite to point out, but it's worth remembering nonetheless.

    I realise that a veteran war reporter's concept of 'safe' may be
    different from that of the ordinary citizen. After my experiences in
    Rwanda and Iraq, you might think I have a twisted sense of proportion
    when it comes to risk assessment.

    But as far as the safety of my family goes I am an absolutist. I
    refuse to take chances. And so if I think Beirut is a safe place to
    take my wife Anne and our children Daniel, ten, and Holly Mei, two,
    that's because it is.

    Beirut is quite simply the most exciting, exotic, culturally
    stimulating place within four hours' flying time of London.

    For a start there are 300 days of sun a year in a place that basks
    by the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Add to that the glistening
    peaks of the mountains beyond the city and you have the tantalising
    possibility of mornings on the beach and afternoons in the fresh
    mountain air, or vice-versa.

    And over the past decade the city has undergone a stunning facelift.

    The architectural wreckage of the civil war has been largely cleared
    away, though there are still a few shell-pocked buildings to add a
    frisson to an otherwise serene vista.

    The downtown district of Solidere, which saw some of the worst of
    the fighting, has had many of its Ottoman era buildings restored and
    is now a pedestrianised zone full of restaurants, cafes and haute
    couture boutiques.

    We were welcomed warmly wherever we went. Actually that's an
    understatement.

    I don't think words could do justice to the hospitality we encountered.

    It began with a welcome dinner at the home of Armenian friends of
    mine in the hills above the city.

    We entered the small flat to find a table crowded with Middle Eastern
    delicacies. There was tender lamb on a bed of scented rice and pine
    nuts, marinated raw minced meat (I passed), wonderfully juicy stuffed
    vine leaves, and at least 20 other meat and vegetable dishes.

    THE FEAST was followed by an Arabic dance in which our children
    excelled. To raucous cheers from the assembled group Holly Mei copied
    the belly dancing of the daughters of the house while Daniel performed
    his own hip-hop adaptation.

    At midnight we attempted to make our excuses and leave. Our host was
    horrified. 'This is Beirut!' he said. ' Parties only start to get
    going at midnight.

    We will be here until breakfast.' And so we were dragged back to the
    table. More lamb. More fish.

    More belly dancing. At 3am, we staggered out to our taxi with Holly
    still dancing.

    This is a city that loves children. They get attention without
    seeking it.

    On the streets, Lebanese of all persuasions stopped to admire our
    fairhaired son Daniel and his adopted baby sister Holly Mei.

    Miss Hurricane Holly, as she is known by her exhausted parents, was
    a sensation on the streets of Beirut. I imagine that they have seen
    very few Chinese babies. Everywhere we went she was fawned over,
    cuddled, offered sweets.

    All of this attention she accepted with grace, though towards the end
    of the week I noticed a certain imperiousness creeping into her manner.

    When she threw a rare tantrum (over having to sit in her buggy while we
    climbed a steep hill) a man emerged from a small bread shop to harangue
    me in Arabic. I think the gist of it was that I was a wholly unsuitable
    father if all I could do was let my child scream her lungs out.

    Beirut traffic can be grim, but the city is compact. Even in the worst
    of gridlock it shouldn't take more than 20 minutes to get from east
    to west. We just walked a great deal.

    >>From one neighbourhood to the next, the sense of where you are can
    alter profoundly. 'I never knew it would feel so amazingly French,
    like France in times gone by,' my wife remarked as we strolled through
    the quaint narrow streets of Christian Ashrafiya.

    The women of these Beirut streets are haughty and handsome, and
    they know that no man would be foolish enough to wolf-whistle. As a
    Lebanese friend of mine put it: 'They take no nonsense. They would
    eat the men alive if they did anything like that.' Food is one of
    the big attractions. In a week of many memorable meals one of the
    best was at Abdel Wahab on Rue Abdel Wahab al Inglezi.

    This is an Ottoman-era gem with high roofs and a cool interior. The
    variety of meze - cold and hot starters - can be bewildering.

    We ordered far too much and by the time the ritual grilled chicken
    and lamb arrived we were glutted and wordless. A pot of fresh mint
    tea helped sort that out and we were eating again in no time.

    But the city offers a great deal more than fantastic Middle Eastern
    cuisine.

    There are also excellent French, Italian and Asian restaurants. Some
    of the top-end Continental restaurants can be pricey and tend towards
    the pretentious. My advice is to investigate the huge variety of
    Lebanese food.

    WITHIN a few minutes of eating in Ashrafiya or shopping in the
    upmarket ABC Mall with its Seattle Coffee shop and Virgin Megastore
    you can be driving through the southern suburbs near the airport,
    the strongholds of the Shia, traditionally the poorest and most
    downtrodden of Lebanon's groups.

    Here, stern mullahs hold sway and many of the women wear headscarves
    or veils.

    But this too is a place of change. You simply would not have gone
    near these suburbs in the 1980s and early Nineties. It was where
    Waite and McCarthy spent the years of their confinement.

    Now the kidnap gangs have gone. There is an easygoing tolerance
    of visitors.

    It is a good place to drink the strong bitter Arabic coffee and smoke
    a narghile, the water pipes whose fruity aroma fills the cafes.

    One of my favourite spots is the Armenian district of Bourj Hammoud.

    This is a warren of small streets crowded with shops selling spices and
    jewellery with excellent value in gold rings, necklaces and bracelets.

    And of course on a cultural level, Lebanon is fabulously rich.

    It boasts the finest Roman ruins in the region at the UNESCO world
    heritage site of Baalbek, which the Romans knew as Heliopolis.

    Then there is the heritage of its Phoenician seafarer origins and
    the remnants of every invading power to have marched through, from
    the armies of Alexander the Great through to the Crusaders, Turks,
    French, Israelis and Syrians.

    In the city centre the churches of the Christians (they make up 40 per
    cent of the population) stand beside the mosques of the Sunni and the
    Shia, the sound of church bells blends with the call of the muezzin.

    The assassination of the country's prime minister last year was a
    serious blow to tourism.

    The attack was blamed on Syria. Suddenly Lebanon was bad news again.

    However, (as I told my motherinlaw) these brutal attacks were targeted
    specifically against Syria's local enemies.

    Tourists were and are not a target. Nor was there any hint of a return
    to the fratricidal days of the civil war - Lebanon saw some of the
    biggest peaceful protests in the history of the Middle East. This
    country has had enough of war.

    One of our loveliest afternoons was spent in the ancient city of
    Byblos. The Bible took its name from the papyrus reed paper produced
    here and it is said to be the world's oldest continuously inhabited
    city. Daniel and I climbed the ruins of ancient temples and a Crusader
    citadel while Anne and Holly wandered through the souks.

    Afterwards we went to the restaurant of Pepe Abed overlooking the
    Phoenician harbour and dined on fresh seafood while the ancient owner
    observed us from a corner. He was here when General De Gaulle came
    during World War II and welcomed film stars like Brigitte Bardot and
    David Niven when Beirut was the playground of the Med.

    The celebrities and playboys were driven away by the war but I suspect
    they will be back.

    Lebanon is too much fun to stay ignored for too long.

    COX & Kings (020 7873 5000; coxandkings.co.uk) offers five nights'
    bed and breakfast at the Movenpick, including British Airways flights
    and transfers, from Pounds 865 per person. The company's programme
    of family holidays, Family Explorer, will be launched this spring.
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