A Night out in Beirut by Rowena Carr-Allinson
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Albergo
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“We Lebanese are excellent drivers” says our guide for the night, 21-year old student Adonis. Her friend Diane quips “If not we’d be dead! The only rule is not to hit the other cars”.
Adonis is weaving her bulky old style Mercedes through Beirut’s insane traffic. Oddly enough I believe this rather beautiful grinning girl. Dodging past both clapped-out cars and the latest Porsche Cayennes or even army jeeps, I feel at ease. I’m pleased: I’ve come a long way from the mixed bag of feelings I felt sitting on the incoming flight just a few days ago. Apprehension, anxiety and aeroplanes don’t make for a relaxing journey.
I grew up in France, where, as far as I can remember, throughout my childhood the number one news item was the war in the Lebanon. My idea of Beirut wasn’t terribly positive, somewhat like today’s kids will invariably feel towards Baghdad, I suspect. I don’t think I’m alone in equating Beirut to the war torn wild west – or rather east.
Of course I’d heard that Beirut was the ‘Switzerland of the Middle East’, that its natural and historical assets were making it a new ‘must-do’ for tourists but you can’t undo a decade of news footage imprinted on a young mind, no matter how hard the tourism board tries.
Tonight, Adonis and Diane were out to show us their beloved Beirut, the real Beirut, a buzzing city where extremes cohabit, live, and party.
When we admit we haven’t been clubbing yet they look shocked. What have we been doing? Working and mostly having a very hard time saying “No” to the avalanche of invitations. Every country claims to be famous for its hospitality but I think I may just have found the real thing.
Having met up for drinks at the lively ‘Kahwat al ézez’ (the glass coffee shop), we chat for a while before setting out on our tour of the city.
Have we tasted the food, the girls enquire? Of course. I proudly list everything I’ve tried from ‘Labenah’, the creamy white cheese to the garlic-intense shawarma wraps. And, yes, I’m loving it.
My other half, who was promoted to ‘husband’ during this trip, for ethical reasons, has embraced local fare enthusiastically, even trying the raw liver. I draw the line at ‘Kibbeh naye’ (raw lamb) which was rather like a beef tartare. My favourite dish has to be the ‘Baba Ghanouche’ eggplant caviar and I’ve become addicted to the deliciously sweet pastries: layers of filo laden with pistachio nuts, honey and other delights.
While we plump for refreshing ‘shandies’, the girls order ‘Mexican’ beer, a popular cocktail: beer with salt and lime. Definitely an acquired taste!
Outside the heat knocks you sideways, but it’s the humidity that really gets you. Although it’s still early and the street is quiet, I am assured that, later, the Gemayze area will be ‘crazy’ busy.
We hop into Adonis’ car and she takes us off the ‘tourist track’. We navigate around the Hezbollah’s tented camp in the center of town. It’s unavoidable. The girls explain that Solidiere, the entirely renovated downtown Beirut area, has been stifled by the ‘strike’, a euphemism used for the encampment. The protest has turned what was briefly home to the city’s sleekest shops, banks and embassies into a ghost town. Today it’s just a congregation of checkpoints, barbed wire and concrete breeze blocks.
We carry on to Al Hamra, a Muslim area with bustling pavements, flashing neons and overflowing Starbucks. Adonis plunges into the hottest topic of all: religion. “It’s not just about Muslims and Christians. There are 17 separate concessions all living side by side!” As a Christian Maronite, she’s happy to venture into majority Muslim areas, but knows people who won’t. As they talk politics, the girls suddenly burst into Arabic, bickering, before apologising profusely for switching languages and leaving us out. If even these two good-natured friends can’t agree, the trouble is far from over.
We cruise down the ‘Corniche’ on the coast, where the air is heavy with aromas from the corn on the cob stall, the exhausts, the litter and the omnipresent sweet smoke from the Narguile pipes. On the way back our girl guides want to show us the working class neighborhood of Basta. Sunniis and Shiites live side by side here, but tensions are constant. As the car slows, there is clearly some commotion up ahead. The air is electric, and dozens of young men swarm over the street rushing away from something. Although I’m not quite comfortable, having seen armed soldiers and tanks all day, I’m getting used to the ‘edgy’ atmosphere.
Back in Achrafieh we stop at our delightfully quaint hotel. The four storey Albergo townhouse is a beautiful mix of French, Lebanese, Italian and Ottoman styles, refurbished by interior designing legend Jacques Garcia. Ideally located, the hotel is the only one in town with the charming luxury boutique feel. Other options are big name giants like the Sheraton, Intercontinental Le Vendome or Movenpick hotels, a favourite with wealthy visitors and locals for Sundays by the pool.
The duty manager is adamant we must stop by Rue Monnot. With traffic getting increasingly psychotic we venture out on foot. The tiny street in the old French Quarter is a hive of activity. Bars like Pacifico, Lila Brown and Aqua are all heaving. It’s the ideal spot to people-watch and quench our raging thirst. The air is Beirut balmy: loaded with heat and chatter from locals and expats alike. Another fifteen minutes walk and we are back in Gemayze where the crowds have materialised. The traffic is gridlocked. Beirut’s beautiful people are out in droves.
Diane accounts for the local’s lust for life by saying that when she hid throughout last year’s bombings she swore to herself that as soon as it was over she would go out and make the most of everything. And so they do.
The Lebanese nightlife is flashy, showy and in your face. The girls are done up to the nines: spray on jeans, tiny tops, plenty of jewelry, makeup and heels that are out of this world.
At Bar Louie on Rue Gouraud we enter a crypt-like restaurant where 80s favourites blare out so loud, conversation is out of the question. Tucking into seafood tapas, we are spoiled with huge grilled shrimps with a fantastic creamy sauce, fresh salmon ceviche and octopus.
The restaurant’s clientele is young, sleek and into singing along with George Michael, or Depeche Mode. The atmosphere is euphoric and slightly surreal.
According to Adonis, growing up in a war-zone means no incentive to live for tomorrow, or to save. Although she is ten years younger, she has inherited that generation’s love of spending and wild excess. It’s all about Carpe Diem: spend, party and live for today.
Although it’s all said with a smile, the party loving girls who act like they don’t have a care in the world are deadly serious. Wise beyond their years they are admirably pragmatic.
“People always worry about something. For us it’s whether we’re going to live, whether there’s another bombing. Maybe elsewhere you worry about getting a job, or about your personal life. Only here it’s a little more serious.”
Defiant Diane adds that nothing can break their spirit. “This is like the calm before the storm or after the storm. First you wait, then you get used to it, then you just don’t care. It’s almost like you are waiting for it to happen, like ‘come on’! What’s going to happen will happen.” All said with a smile.
Walking through central Beirut it’s impossible to miss the city’s scars, whether it’s a rainbow of bullet holes in the ochre plaster, shattered windows or simply a gaping hole in a block where an entire building disappeared. Rebuild and forget? No way. Adonis insists: “We have to leave those buildings there so we don’t forget what we did to our own country.”
Next stop is the ultra hip Central bar. A round lift takes you up into the ‘tube bar’ which appears to be an oversized air duct dropped on top of a building with retractable windows. It’s worth coming for the view alone, stretching across the city over the mosque and to the twinkling harbour. The margaritas are pretty good too.
Another bar, another swarthy barman, more beautiful people, more loud music and more people living it up. This city has definitely got two distinct personalities: daytime with its war-zone feel and night, with its glamour easily putting New York or Paris to shame.
In the early hours, we call it a night and head back to the Albergo, a haven of peace in this supercharged city. Outside Beirut is wide awake, a never ending parade of snazzy cars honking bumper to bumper, their zealous owners singing and celebrating.
What was it Adonis had said? “I don’t like boring places. Beirut’s a bit crazy but this is really ‘Living’.”
As my head hits the fresh, crisp sheets I fall asleep wondering if the girls’ driving analysis applies to life in the Lebanese capital. They laughed: “It’s very chaotic. Sometimes you just have to close your eyes”!