Taking Our First Steps

"The best way to see colourful Beirut is on foot" I repeatedly read in travel blogs. What no one tells you is "...if you use a kiddy stroller you may as well have one foot in the grave."

On our first walking expedition, we get off on the wrong foot. At 10am it’s already a scorcher outside, Mateo is having his morning sleep in the stroller while Mikey and I struggle to dodge potholes and fleeting cars. Ploughing through jagged pathways and absent mined pedestrians, we’re working up a sweat just trying to refrain Mateo from catapulting across the pavement. We make our first 50 metres in 50 minutes. Lovely. Both in a stitch, wet from head to toe, we’re ready to call it a day. Bystanders gawking at us say nothing but their faces said it all: “Ha! a stroller in Beirut?!?! Goodluck!”

Our map is useless because street names don’t correlate to street signs (a mind boggling topic for another post) so we vaguely make our own way to The Corniche. The waterfront esplanade is a popular destination where people stroll, strut their stuff, and socialize. We see ageing, overweight men jog and stop for cigarette breaks; teenage boys throwing fishing lines into the rocky waters below; young men smoking nargileh on their car hoods, combing their hair to catch the attention of speed-walking women wearing Ray-Bans and visors. 

 I soon realise The Corniche is the only pram-friendly pathway in Beirut but as our week rolls on the more stroller-savvy we become. 

Venturing further afield we cross the Green Line that divided the city between Christian East and Muslim West during the civil war. We weave and wind our way from Ras Beirut past St Georges Yacht Club to the flashy new Beirut Souk (mall) in Downtown. We take a pit stop at Place de l’Etoile and refuel on sickly-sweet lemonade. We leg it across Place des Martyrs and lunch in Gemmayzeh Street at Le Chef (no-frills kitchen serving the best Molokhia in town). In the blazing afternoon sun, we drag our feet to the air conditioned ABC (mall) in Achrafiyeh...ahhh.

To the untrained eye, one half of the city is rubble the other half is a mall. On closer observation you can pick up on the distinct architectural renderings of the urbanscape. Between the dilapidated buildings peppered with bullet holes you will discover the remains of Roman temples; marvel at centuries-old Mosques & Churches standing side-by-side; admire refurbished French-style mansions, and gaze up at multi-story apartments towering above. 

It’s a city under continual re-construction and I can't help but admire the Lebanese people not only for what they’ve been through but what they always seem to do after a crisis: they dig themselves out, dust themselves off, and start building once again. 

At the end of each field-trip we'd return to our apartment tired but feeling enriched from our expedition. The three of us would huddle around the bidet to wash  our tired, blistered feet (previous post explains the bidet story). Watching the sunset from our balcony, the sky paints a pretty picture with hues of pink and orange. The call to prayer from the mosque drifts through the air. The muezzin sounds melodically peaceful, offering time to reflect.

Getting around Beirut is definitely no walk in the park but well worth the experience. Together with discovering new sights, sounds and smells of the city we learnt about Lebanese hospitality which transcends age, class and religion. Pedestrians and shopkeepers alike would stop us on our tracks to wish Mateo the warmest of welcomes. Accompanying  handshakes, high-fives and pinched cheeks people would shout “MARHABA!” “KAFAK!” “AHLAN YA HABIBI!” It’s a wonderful Middle Eastern gesture that universally means ‘hello fellow friend!’ 

Being on the receiving end of so much kindness Mateo never failed to warmly respond. Although he is yet to speak a coherent word of any language he is still able to return the greeting with great joy: a big grin from ear-to-ear, uttering ‘eh! eh!’ eh!’ and a tentative twist of his little wrist. A gesture that would make anyone fall head over heels.