Downtown

Dogs

I'm a dog person. Not in the sci-fi half man/ half dog sense, I just like them. Dogs make the world roughly (ruff!-ly) twenty-seven percent better than I am sure a dog-free world would be. You go to another planet with people on it and no dogs, its definitely not gonna be as good a Earth. And I don't care how many hoverbikes and smellivisions they do have. Its like pretty girls...things are just better when they're around.

Anyway, back home, I find myself around dogs a good portion of the time. (Right here, I'd like to say what's up to my dog Milhouse. And to all you hacker d*cks out there in internetland, know that I don't use that name or any variation of it for any of my 73 different passwords! So nice try.) But I haven't seen too many dogs here in Beirut (check one in the minus column for Beirut). So yesterday when I was walking in my neighborhood and saw someone walking a little Husky puppy (I'm am talking about the breed, not some portly young dog), I naturally asked if I could pet it, which led to this odd exchange:

Me: Dude, awesome dog...can I pet it?

Owner: I guess so, man- just a little bit, okay? I don't want her to get too used to people.

Me: Why? Is it gonna be a guard dog one day or something?

Owner: Naw, I just want her to be more aggressive.

Me: (baffled, a little frightened)

So that was it. I would think you would want your pooch to socialize with other people and dogs as much as possible. And this goes double for a city dog. But not this guy. I have no clue why you would want a mean, aggressive Husky (which is typically a friendly breed, from my experience) unless you wanted it to guard your house or something (like Milhouse!).

However, I am told that this is not the case with most sane people in this country. This makes sense, and since my sample for Lebanese dog owners is so small at this point, I guess I'll have to assume that he was just one of those jerks that you read about.

Downtown

This is the Hariri Mosque next to St. George's Cathedral. The mosque is Sunni Muslim and the cathedral is Maronite Christian. These two buildings standing side by side in Downtown Beirut symbolize modern Lebanon in a lot of ways. 

On the surface, you could say that a Muslim building functioning side-by-side with a Christian building symbolizes the challenge of Lebanese people today to coexist harmoniously.  Lebanon has a diverse population including Sunni, Shia, Maronite, Catholic, and Druze. Often friction develops between the groups (see: Lebanese Civil War, 1975 - 1990). So it is a constant struggle for Lebanon to maintain harmony between its various ethnic/religious groups.  Two religious structures standing right next to each other could be viewed as the embodiment of the Lebanese ideal of a functioning cosmopolitan society. 

The two buildings could also be viewed another way. St George's Cathedral is very old, "dating back to the crusades".  The Hariri Mosque is a newborn by comparison, with construction finishing just a couple of years ago. The new mosque dominates the new downtown skyline. It's beautiful dome and minarets tower over the cathedral next to it. The juxtaposition of the two has been characterized as "triumphalism" by some who view the mosque as dominating the downtown skyline. Like Hariri's clique putting their final stamp on downtown in a way that might suggest "this  is ours". 

Any way you chose to view it, the architecture of the buildings is amazing. Some say the reconstructed downtown feels a little contrived and meant for tourists only, but that will change with time. Those same people who feel that the mosque is a little imposing may grow to love it. The Eiffel Tower was once condemned as a monstrosity, now its the very symbol of France. 

To me, downtown Beirut symbolizes the best and the worst of Lebanon. There you will find cafes and shops next to mosques and churches...and Roman ruins right in the middle of all of it. But its also the most exclusive area in the whole city. So you have the most affluent people in the country mingling with affluent people from other countries. Most Lebanese people wouldn't set foot in the area because it is so touristy and expensive. 

And to actually live near downtown is even worse. Home only to politicians and businessmen (or Gulf Coast oil barons who use them as vacation homes or places to store their son's dirt bikes), apartments in the area are priced in the millions. 

And so you have the two faces of Lebanon. One symbolized by various religious structures coexisting right next to each other, the other symbolized by an area that is all but off limits to the majority of the people the country. Lebanon's middle class is still developing, so people either have a lot money or they have almost none at all. The vast majority of people fall into the latter category. Most Lebanese don't drive BMWs and go to Buddha Bar. (Though the ones that do are conspicuous enough to almost make you think otherwise.)

So downtown you have it all: the various religious buildings commingling peacefully (albeit one much larger than the others), all in a flashy and exclusive area that very few Lebanese can afford to hang out in. Downtown Beirut is a fine metaphor for what Lebanon is today. Its a very old area that has been reconstructed to somehow be both inclusive and exclusive at the same time. And its quite a sight. 

Passports and Embassies

U.S. PASSPORT

The United States has signed treaties with a large number of countries that qualify its citizens for Visa on Arrival. This means that an American citizen can just show up to most countries in the world and will be issued a visa on-site at the immigration desk. Its quite a privilege, considering citizens from other countries are often made to jump through significant hoops to come to the USA.

Who do you know there? What will you be doing? How long will you be staying? Do you have enough money to spend? Do you have a return flight? Can you prove all of this? And all of this must be done at the US consulate in the home country prior to departure. So its quite a bonus for Americans to be able to show up at a country and demand entrance.

Of course, they could always refuse you. But why would they? You're an American.

UNOFFICIAL EMBASSIES

When you are abroad, there are a number of unofficial embassies you can use. You can't register with the consulate there, or renew an expiring passport, but still they are definitely valuable when you find one. There are many examples, but the most common is McDonald's.

The Golden Arches have been welcoming weary foreigners for generations. No matter where I have been, I have always found one. Sometimes I go in and sometimes I am just happy to know its there. Bangkok, New Delhi, Florence, Amsterdam- you always know exactly what to expect once inside. Sure, the New Delhi one does not serve beef, but I expected that too. And every time you walk through the doors you always feel like you are stepping foot on US soil.

And its not because I miss the food, because I almost never ever eat big name fast food at home. Sure, I'll grab a burrito, or a steak and cheese sub somewhere, but I don't eat at McDonald's more than once or twice a year. And I haven't been to a Hardees in over a decade. But here in Beirut, its been thrice in two weeks. I expect the food to walk that fine line between tasty and disgusting, and it always does. And I always take into account that I will immediately regret my decision and feel bad about myself. But I do it anyway because I know what to expect.

The entire routine never changes: I'm hungry > What's easy? > Oh, there's a McDonalds! > But shouldn't I try the local cuisine? > Tomorrow you can; today you are too hungry to think, let alone order in a foreign language > Okay, I'm going in. > Oh jeez, another American stuffing his face at McDonalds. What a cliché. > I don't care, I'm starving > I know, I'll order in the local language > Numero Six, Please > Oh god, this is good. > Oh god, that was good.> Uggh, I'm stuffed > Dammit.

It never changes and I never learn.

Of course, of all these unofficial embassies I have encountered, I never feel better than when I walk into one of the Beirut Dunkin Donuts. I actually do frequent Dunkin Donuts back home, so its even better to see it here (there was a period in the mid-2000s where I briefly flirted with Starbucks, but those days are dead and gone, I swear). Adding to it is the fact that I have never seen a D&D abroad anywhere and Beirut has half a dozen. So any city that can embrace Dunkin Donuts on that level is okay with me. And to my surprise, this Dunkin Donuts (near the AUB) has the best coffee of any of the others. Even The States. I stop in every day before Arabic class and I am never disappointed.

Dunkin Donuts can't compete west of the Mississippi, but here its thriving. Maybe its because its not pretentious enough. Maybe its because its part owned by the Carlyle Group. And maybe its because its coffee can taste a little bit like cigarettes. But for whatever reason, it just never took off in places like California or Alaska. But you can't swing a dead cat in Boston without hitting one (or a CVS for that matter). And the first D&D was actually founded less than an hour from my home in The States. So when I walk in there, it actually feels like Massachusetts soil. I can't think of a better unofficial embassy.

THE NEW SYRIAN EMBASSY

While I am in Lebanon, I plan to make a trip to Damascus, Syria. Damascus is one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world and since its only a few hours from Beirut, I have no excuse.

So naturally, I stopped by the brand new Syrian embassy here in Beirut, about half a mile from my house. It actually opened just last week because Syria has always viewed Lebanon as part of Syria and not as its own country (and for the 400 years until the end of WWI, it was part of Syria). Syria had troops in Lebanon up until 2005, when former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri was assassinated. Many people blamed Syria for the murder and massive protests erupted in Beirut. Lebanon was outraged. The international community was outraged. So Syria was forced to leave.

But it wasn't until five months ago that they established formal diplomatic relations. This is understandable, because its difficult for Syria to admit that Lebanon is a separate country. So when I walked into the Syrian Embassy, I did not know quite what to expect. (Sometimes when you don't expect much, not much is all you get.) I just figured, instead of wasting time at the border, I could take care of it today. Maybe I wouldn't even have to bribe anyone at the border.

There really isn't much to say about the experience except for the following. One, they looked baffled when I asked for a visa. Like “why are you asking me?” And two, when I finally made it into the man-in-charge's office, he didn't even have a computer on his desk. So I knew then that little was going to happen there. The bureaucrat looked like his name was Droopy and had the same presence of the cartoon dog by the same name. He told me just to get one at the border. He said “One hour, three hour, two hour, four hours...its best to get it there.”

You mean, you call yourself an embassy and you can't even issue me a simple tourist visa? Really? I may as well have been in a McDonald's.

THE NEW AMERICAN EMBASSY

A day later, I decided that I should make the trek out to the US embassy to register with them just in case all hell breaks loose and I need to get airlifted from the roof of my apartment building in a helicopter. I say “make the trek” because its not quite in Beirut. Its actually far from Beirut, nestled in the hills a few miles away.

There is a reason for this. The US embassy used to be located right in the middle of Beirut, but during the civil war, somebody destroyed it with a massive car bomb. Always strong in the face of grave circumstances, they rebuilt in a site close by. The following year, that embassy was also blown up. Strong is one thing, but foolhardy is another. The new US embassy would be outside the city, far from the war zone that surrounded the old ones (fool me once...).

So that is why the new and current US embassy is so far away, in a veritable mountain fortress far outside the city. The security was tight getting in. I won't go into details on that, but I will say that even for a genuine passport-carrying US citizen, they were strict and thorough. After I passed through security, I said to the guard “this place is a fortress”. He said nothing, but gave me a look that said, “we both know why that is”.

When I finished registering, I walked out and turned around to contemplate taking a photograph. Then I thought better of it, because I don't think the guards would have been happy, and also because I couldn't publish it anyway for fear that the photo would be used in an attack. There may be photos of the embassy somewhere on the internet, but not from me.

CITIZENSHIP

The US passport is welcomed all over the world (almost). So its nice to travel the planet with that little book in my pocket. It tells whoever looks inside where I am from, where I was born and where I have been. It also is great because people have to at least think twice before they mess with you. Sure, you may get trouble just for being an American, but still you know you're getting special treatment.

Government officials must consider carefully how they handle you. Is your country friendly with mine? That makes a lot of difference. But its also because a nation's relationship with the USA- love it or hate it- is very important. If I get into trouble in Russia or Iran, the situation will be a lot different if I am a US citizen compared to that of another less significant country, say Paraguay.

America accounts for one of every four dollars spent in the world. No one has more weapons, no one makes more weapons. America is a permanent member of the UN Security Council. Influential people from all over the world send their children to US schools (the American University of Beirut is considered one of the best schools in the Middle East, and like the name suggests, even that's American). So nations must carefully consider how they treat US nationals. Its like being a Roman citizens: you may get killed just for being Roman, but at least your death will merit substantial consideration.

MY OTHER PASSPORT

Lastly, I would like to mention my other passport. The US passport grants you certain privileges and considerations that not everyone receives. But there is another passport I possess: my fair complexion. While a comprehensive dissection of Race in America is outside the scope of this blog, I would like to mention its significance as it relates to my travels heretofore.

I am white. Caucasian. A gringo. And adding to that, I have blonde hair. Not Pam Lee blonde, more like Jefferson Darcy blonde. Golden, if you will. These two things invite “special” treatment when you are traveling outside of where most people are white, namely Europe and North America. You go to either of those places and nobody cares (for the most part) because you look just like everyone else.

But travel in India, Asia, and the Middle East you will find things to be different. Class distinctions are more vivid in these parts of the world. For the most part, either you are educated and have money or you are not and you don't. If you have light skin and hair, most people will put you into the category of the former.

This is great when you get into certain situations. Me and two friends (all gringos) were traveling together in India a few years ago. At one point, we misread a timetable and missed a very important bus to some place we wanted to go to; and we'd missed it by a good hour. The people at the bus station radioed ahead to the bus we were supposed to be on and told them to pull over and wait for us. Then they put us on another bus to go meet the waiting bus.

One call, and the bus pulled over to wait for three hapless honkies. It was full and all the people were now going to be an hour late to their destinations because some stupid gringos misread a chart.

Another time, we got on the wrong train. When it was discovered by the conductor, he told us to get off and wait for the next train, which was coming four hours later. We got off in a small village in the middle of nowhere and were quickly surrounded by dozens of local youths who were just curious to see some white people at their train station. It must have been the biggest thing to happen in years, because they just stared at us for a good hour. Finally, the manager of the station came by (he had been told by radio about our situation) and told us that those people were from the lower classes and had never seen anything like this before (I didn't ask why the kids weren't in school). He gave us our own waiting room to pass the time in.

(I can't say enough about our treatment in India. Those people bent over backwards to accommodate us time and time again. A wonderful country filled with wonderful people.)

Here in Beirut, my roommate and I were leaving McDonald's after a disgusting feast when the door was held for us and a friendly "thank you" was issued upon exit. He said that he and his friends never get this type of treatment and its only because I was American. Had I been Italian American or Mexican American, the employee might never of known. But as a gringo, he just assumed. I didn't know if they thought I was a spy for corporate, or if I was gonna run back to America and report to everyone on how they were running operations here in Lebanon, or something (I guess I did), but it was still very nice, if only for superficial reasons.

So why is this the case? Why do people like me get special treatment in many parts of the world just based on our looks when we don't deserve it at all? That's a big question which would take volumes to answer. I will only point to post-colonialism, and the fact that most of the most powerful countries in the world are predominantly white. So people think that if you are traveling, that one, you are from one of the aforementioned countries, and two, you can afford it.

But its not all smiles and door holding for us fair-skinned Americans. It can actually be quite a detriment (Whaaaa, feel bad for me, I'm a white male American. Whaaaa!). Whatever, but its true. Its the proverbial double edged sword. If people assume you are European or American, they are gonna assume you have money. And not only that, they are gonna assume you have no idea what's going on.

Typical exchange abroad:

Me: “How much is this?”

Them: “How much you pay?”

They assume that you are not familiar with the local prices and that you will pay more due to that gap in knowledge. And they are usually correct. It takes a while before you learn how much things cost in a country. In Thailand or India, when you are negotiating, prices will often start at triple the price of what they will cost after hard bargaining. And that price is usually double what a local will pay.

Take Vietnam. In some of the stores, in a refreshing breath of straight-forward and honest unfairness, the items will simply have two different prices, on the tags, one double the amount of the other. The smaller price is the local price and the larger price is my price. The gringo price. I call it the White Tax. (Whaaaa!)

You can even find it here in Beirut. Every time I take a stroll down the street, every single taxis that passes by me honks to get my attention. “Taxi?” they yell. And believe me, it gets annoying. Because I know that the only reason they appear to really want my fare is because they think they can get an inflated price out of me. Once, my roommate and I were looking for a taxi to some bar we were going to. Since I was white, the cab driver quoted us a ridiculous fare about five times what should be paid. Hisham scolded him and we got the right price.

But when you are a gringo abroad outside of the gringo nations, you have to expect this. Its your other passport, and you cannot hide it. Sometimes it gets the bus to wait for you and other times it makes you feel like everyone in the city views you as a walking ATM that they can scam extra money out of and probably brag to their friends how they did it, how smart they are, and how stupid that American was.

(You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.)

Well all you people out there with dark features, who live in dark featured countries, and know how much everything costs- if any of you even know how to surf the internet- let me tell you this: American's have feelings too. If cut, do we not bleed?

So if there is anyway you could hold the door for me and not rip me off, I would greatly appreciate it.

All kidding aside, I completely understand. You guessed right everybody, I really am part of the Haves, so if the Have Nots want to even things up a little bit on my dime, I am only too happy to oblige. It doesn't bother me for more than a second and I'll even try to smile. I only have one request: please, be gentle. I'm an American.

Beirut Graffiti

Graffiti can be found in most urban areas of the world and Beirut is no exception. Walking down the streets of my Hamra neighborhood, it doesn't take long before you come across some.

Graffiti, like all art, is a form of expression. One of my favorite types of this unauthorized street art is done using stencils. Stencils can be very effective and are often poltical in nature. (See works by Banksy and Shephard Fairey.) The medium can take you out of your environment, even for a moment, and illustarate some of societies greatest flaws and hippocracies. At its best, it can be devastating.

The examples I found here in Beirut were decent. I thought the bomb gift wrapped for Gaza was effective. One theme a few of the works had in common was American culture, including depictions of E.T, Bambi, and Micky Mouse. Mickey is depicted saying "We're with you", which may be in reference to the Lebanese gorging on U.S. pop culture.

Another theme was homosexuality. Though its considered the most liberal country in the Middle East, being openly gay is still illegal in Lebanon. So the stencil of the "Arab Lesbian Liberation Front" is doubly forbidden. The graffiti breaks the law at the same time as its very message is breaking the law. There is one of a man simply saying "I love him". Though such an idea might not raise an eyebrow in the West, here they are incredibly taboo.

There is also a stencil of the symbol for female (a circle with a cross coming out of the bottom) turning into a fist. Both that symbol and the A.L.L.F stencils are feminist in nature and come across as militant, which is also exceptional given the location. If such an organization existed, it would probably operate in extreme secrecy.

All in all, I was happy just to find some of these works and photograph them. The examples ranged from the technically impressive yet boring one of ET, to the simple but compelling A.L.L.F example, to the all around great one of the bomb gift wrapped for Gaza. While most of the works were not nearly as effective as the mediums giants, its a good start. This country has a good mix of smart disenfranchised young people and a politically charged atmosphere that could produce some good stuff in the future. Keep up the good work.

Beirut Graffiti

The Sun

This is developing into a quite a little story. Snowboarding in the mountains of Lebanon, I took in more of the sun's evil rays than I first thought. My buddy Oussama offered me some SPF60 in the car on the way but I refused. "It's winter" I thought, "how bad could the sun be?" If any mothers are reading this (if anyone is reading this at all), they are cringing at the shortsighted stupidity of the statement. But really, who would have thought the sun would be so strong here in the Middle East?

At first, my face felt like a catchers mitt, a little dry and inflexible. Now its worse. Definitely one of the top seven sun burns of my life, which is saying something because its just on my mug. I look like a handsome, blonde, young, Freddy Krueger. And I am growing a beard because I can't shave for fear that my face will peal like a potato. If I posted a photo of it, it would not be suitable for young children, the elderly, or anyone who had just ate. I should have known better.

And its not like I don't have a bad history with the sun. Family members have had things removed because of the sun. I've had something removed. You go to the dermatologist and he says, "hmmm, let's keep and eye on that" or "geez, how long has that been there". Dammit. Each little bump occurred on some sunny day, where you had not a care in the world. Little did you know, that's when it strikes. Hurling cancer at you from 93 million miles away.

Its one of God's witty tricks that each day you spend as a child (or an adult) frolicking in the warm sun is one day closer to doom. When you are at your most innocent, most vulnerable, the sun plants little land mines in the cells of the epidermis that just wait dormantly to strike you later in life. The solar al-Qaeida burying cancerous IEDs under your skin. Then, like a some tanned sleeper cell, they awaken to wreak havok. Basal cell carcinoma, squamous cell carcinoma, malignant melanoma. These are what lay in wait years after each sunny day by the pool, or playing frizbee by the beach.

Lets hope my burn today doesn't get that far. I have already put some aloe on it, so I'm pretty sure that will be that. But for all those other people, beware. The sun is not your friend.

Mountains

Since it was St. Patrick's Day and the last day of Oussama being unemployed, we decided to head to the mountains for a little snowboarding. The weather was sunny and warm and the lifts weren't crowded at all. With Beirut traffic, it took us an hour and a half to reach the mountain. I had to rent gear since I brought no warm clothes with me to Lebanon, let alone a snowboard. Once equipped, I shredded the mountain completely- only falling on my arse three or four times. Most people were skiing, but there were a handful of other snowboarders there.

I never really pictured skiing/snowboarding as part of life in Lebanon, but this place is full of surprises. For example, Dunkin Donuts abound and you'd better believe I'm stopping in every day before Arabic class for a dose. I was also happy to see Seinfeld and the Colbert Report on the tube as well.

A lot of research was done on my behalf before I decided to come here, so I had a decent idea of what to expect. But I think many people only possess some vague and outdated images of the Muslim world and apply it to every country. Pyramids, sand houses, and camels, and such. Well I am here to report that Lebanon is nothing like that. For now, its very western and modern and liberal. Its got beaches and mountains and Seinfeld and Dunkin Donuts. What more do you want out of life?

Television

I walked out of the Mayflower Hotel towards the American University of Beirut. My plan was to walk around campus looking at the bulletin boards to see if there were any notices for people who need a roommate. Before I even entered the gates of AUB, I noticed such a notice on a piece of paper taped to a public phone. It read, “Roommate wanted, five minutes walk to AUB”. Perfect. I called the number and Hisham said he would be right down to meet me. It was right in the area I wanted to live in and for about half the price that I was ready to spend. We checked out the place and came to an agreement. And that was that.

I left my room that morning looking for an apartment, walked out the door, called the first number I found, and an hour later I was shaking hands. That pretty much sums up my first five days here in Beirut. Everything has been quite easy, all in all. The people that I have met have all been warm and friendly and eager to talk about their country or show you around. Obviously, that makes getting to know a place a lot easier (If you don't believe me, try it in France).

The next day, I checked out of my hotel and moved into my new pad. Its a one bedroom (the reason its so cheap), so we have had two beds installed. The bathroom is tiny. But the place does have its advantages. We are on the eighth floor and there is a decent sized balcony. Cable, and utilities are included. The place is cleaned and our beds our made daily. Our dishes are washed. Its furnished.

Its also close to campus, which is good for Hisham, but also good for me because the AUB campus is very beautiful and is one of the greenest areas in the entire city. Beirut has so much going for it, but one thing it lacks in is green spaces like gardens and parks. So its good be close the campus.

The apartment is also close the police station. I don't know if that makes me more safe or less, but it is interesting. I am told that this particular police station is responsible for drugs and prostitution. Beirut Vice, if you will. The place has a nasty reputation for, ahhh, getting confessions. Maybe that's just an urban legend concocted to dissuade people from engaging in the above mentioned activities, but still, it makes me think twice every time I walk past.

On Friday, as I was walking towards the station, I saw a commotion. Horns honking, people starring at the front doors of the place. Apparently, they had just apprehended a suspect and were dragging him in for questioning. Men in plain clothes milled around with walkie talkies and assault rifles. One guy in what looked like an '84 S-Box sedan with an AK-47 (riding shotgun) tried to maneuver around the scene. He must have been a cop, because the other cops were all chuckling at how enraged the man was at the traffic.

On foot, I was making more progress. When he finally caught up to where I was walking, at the entrance to the police station parking, he crashed through some barricades as the other cops laughed and he parked his car in a hurry. I would love to know what he was so upset about, but I have a feeling I might not get the answers I would be looking for if I went down to the station and started nosing around.

The whole thing was very exciting. Suspect getting dragged in in handcuffs, people in regular clothes with big guns, pissed off cop crashing through stuff in his crappy car. I could almost hear him say, “I'm gettin' too old for this sh*t!” like some crusty detective from some bad cop show.

But its not a show. This is real life. Peace and order here is something to be treasured. There is a reason the police can be ruthless and angry. There is a reason there are guards and barricades in front of “important” peoples' houses. There is a reason the American embassy has been relocated twice, currently in an area far outside the city.

As a traveler, its always a challenge for me to put myself in my surroundings mentally. I was in Sri Lanka days after the 2004 tsunami. The destruction and loss was unfathomable to me. Literally. I couldn't fathom it. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching it on television. People would come up to me and tell me their stories and I would feel compassion and sadness for a while, but I never felt like I could understand even one percent of what those people were enduring right in front of my eyes.

So I have to resist the same condition here. That's part of the reason I am staying here for three months (fiduciary and bureaucratic limitations not withstanding). I want to live here. I want to have an apartment and pay rent. I want to do laundry and go grocery shopping. I want to make friends. I want to see what its like be emotionally invested in another country's well being. Because until that happens, you can never fully appreciate a city and its struggles. I am not sure if I will be able to accomplish this in my time here, but I will try. I just know that I don't want to feel like I am watching it on TV.

Here at last.

I arrived safely in Lebanon yesterday afternoon. The airport is right on the sea and you can smell the warm Mediterranean air the moment you step off the plane. The sun was shining and it reflected off all the windows in the homes that are snuggled in the hills around the city. My contact was late picking me up. I didn't have his mobile number so I just made up a sign with his name on it and waited near the baggage pickup area.

I was one of a few “gringos” waiting there, but people hardly noticed. With its beauty as a city, its intriguing politics, and its exceptional higher education, Beirut has seen its share of outsiders. The city is full of foreign tourists, journalists, students, and businessmen from all over the region and the world. I am not sure which category I fit into- probably a mesh of all four- but Beirut definitely has something for everyone.

My contact Oussama (no, not that Oussama) arrives, apologizes profusely for being late, and the two of us walk to his car. He is fresh from a job interview he explains. As everywhere, the job market in Beirut is tight. Opportunities that existed only months ago have all but dried up. The exception seems to be in construction. Beirut is one big construction site. From my hotel balcony, I hear saws, drills, and hammers from every direction.

For much of the last thirty years, Lebanon has been at war. Most people in Lebanon live in Beirut and Beirut has suffered most of the damage. As a result, the city is constantly rebuilding. Its part of the reputation of the Lebanese people that they can suffer through catastrophic damage, weather the storm, and emerge ready to rebuild and live life again.

But to me, all this is just what I have been told. I've only just arrived. So while I will take the next three months learning what this city has to offer, my next step, my first step, is to find a place to live. The Mayflower hotel may be nice, but it ain't cheap.