The four passports that were stamped as their owners boarded the 8:00 PM flight to Beirut all had 48 pages. Two were blue, one was black, and one was green. They were all Jordanian passports though.

The flight is perhaps the coolest in the world. You go up in the air, and just as you are about to open your book, you hear the lady on the microphone say that the plane has started its descent to the AlHariri International Airport.

The weather, she informs, is a summerish 19 degrees celscius. It is the weekend where the famous Beiruti cliche actually works: swim on the coast, and go up and ski an hour later in the mountains.

The streets of Beirut are as crowded as hell, severe rush hour style, except its always rush hour in that city. We head to the temporary residence, Yasmeen’s 9th floor apartment in the middle of Hamra, with the see on your left and the snowy mountain peaks on your right.

Yasmeen is naturally our tour guide, along with a few of her friends: Richi, Didi, and Rakan.

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Look up. Look down.

Whether your neck cranks up towards the skies or down to look at the asphalt, there’s always an interesting perspective, as if the city was put together as Lego by an architect who could only see things sliced with lines running all over the canvas.
I don’t know why I was so struck by the geometry of it all.

Still abandoned. Still injured.

My first visit to Beirut horrified me. I couldn’t understand how that city so famous for its night life, hot women, and pop culture could be in such shitty shape and no one ever talked about it. Living in the brand spanking new Riyadh and the well-maintained West Amman, the sites of life going on along with the bullet-hole ridden buildings and a whole lot of urban decaying really horrified me.

This time round, it was a bit easier, though still not easy.

Really, it’s amazing what people can do to one another.

Inspiration Nation.

How can a city be so inspiring? The Lebanese certainly have an eye for detail and a huge lot of competition for being the most creative. Everything in Beirut in one way or another has a punch line. The signage of the city, old and new, is given special attention. The way people are dressed calls for essays on individualism. Even the little hot dog stand outside AUB gets creative with how they make their frankfurters.
Speaking of the food, damn food, everything is finger-licking delcious. From the Manaeesh you get off the street to the sushi to humus. Yum.

Grafitti-o.

It’s apparently not only perfectly legal to grafitti the walls of Beirut, but also encouraged, even as a part of graduation projects of AUB art students. I love the grafitti they have there. It’s smart, it’s well-done, and it occassionally makes you wonder.

and my favorite, Nasrallah on a bike: :)

48 x 2= The Four Days in Beirut.

But it wasn’t all observations. Though being the bullshitter that I am, I can probably go on forever with categories and observations…

Till the next use of my 48 pages.

(Interested in filling them up with a trip to your country? :) I make a fantastic tourist advertiser :P )

(A big sorry for all the people with bad bandwidth)