Friday, 1 June 2012

Beiruti

Four down, one to go. These months in Beirut have left a lasting impression.

Beirut is Trondheim. Mar Mikhael's combination of car workshops and culture. Burning gas through a 1980s heater as the cold tears through uninsulated windows.

Beirut is rainy Saturdays at Souq al-Ahad, buying new old clothes with favourite familiar faces. Taxi etiquette, Aamiyah grammar and the power of PC.

An amber-coloured Easter holiday, hangover getaway to an Aarhus-flavoured Cairo. Morning vodka with Vega on a dazzling terrace, defending the honour of a 1 foot tall white furry best friend.

A retina-threateningly bright windowless office. Pebbly beaches, Sunday traffic. The Lebanon that is not for visitors. Aching joints, mosquito bites and the view from a 6th-floor Geitawi window.

Arcing over all of it: The Corniche, Saifi, Saida, servees. Hummus, tabouleh and falafel. An apartment in Mathaf. Almaza. Tam Tam, Richard and the unforgettable Fustu. The Lebanese and their own Lebanon.

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