After a long but very enjoyable drive, we arrive at Beiteddine, the palace of Mount Lebanon, a 200-year old national monument and the actual summer residence of Lebanon's President. This place is stunning. Perched atop a hill with gorgeous views in all directions, the palace was built by Emir Bashir Shihab II at the turn of the 19th century, with sprawling grounds and beautiful corridors and courtyards deftly woven into the landscape. The Emir employed Italian architects, and so the buildings are a unique blend of traditional Arab and Italian baroque architectural elements. We wandered quickly from room to room, down winding stairs, in and around traditional bath houses and fountains, while taking countless pictures like the enchanted tourists we were. The late afternoon shadows made for some very beautiful compositions, but alas, I'm a bit useless as a photographer, and my iPhone 3 is getting on in years and only works sporadically. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it, as to why all my pictures barely capture the feel of this place. I'm hoping my friend Anja will send me some of her images, because we compared notes and it was clear that her pictures were a lot better. But regardless of how we documented this spot, it's a magical and marvelous place. It's also the ancestral home of Farid Chehab, who I'll write more about later this week, and I feel like I have a much better idea now of why Farid is such a charismatic figure. When you have the strains of nobility in your blood, and the memory of great ancestors looming over your life, the call to do something worthwhile with your gifts becomes much clearer. When your ancestors have brought beauty this refined into existence, it pushes you to live up to their legacy. Beiteddine was gorgeous, and I'm eternally thankful to Bechara for bringing us here.
Basking in the stoic beauty of a besieged city, I behold Beirut, beset for centuries by Caliphs & Crusaders, a crossroads for traders, a sublime coastline & layered state of mind where cultures combine & blend, where faiths intertwine & languages bend, out where the Mediterranean ultimately ends... Amidst crescents & crosses, I placate my bosses by typing their screeds, catering to my company's every need, while staring west past the waters as the sunset recedes...
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The Druze
We forget sometimes that these pockets of humanity exist - people far detached from the dominant narrative of the day, who've carved out their own niche through history, neither seeking power nor interfering with those around them desperate to claim it. The Druze have endured the rise and fall of empires and nations, safely ensconced in this timeless valley where no one has the will or ability to pursue them. It's inspiring, at least to those of us who harbor minority views, and who have never been regarded with anything but suspicion in the countries we've lived in. In my own way, I've taken a page from the Druze playbook, retreating from the constant shrill culture wars of America in 2012 to quieter higher ground to live my life in pursuit of something resembling grace. There is more to learn from this group of people, and I look forward to digging a little deeper into their world, perhaps through the work of scholars and artists like Sami Makarem, one of the few Druze scholars whose work has been translated into English. So much to learn, and so little time... I'm grateful to see these Druze communities perched along these hills. They become more than just a story, more than something I read about somewhere, but a living reality that testifies to the lengths that people must go to in order to live according to their beliefs...
Glimpses of Hezbollah's Stronghold
On our way through the city, as we headed towards Mount Lebanon, Bechara took us briefly through Hezbollah's stronghold in southern Beirut. It's like entering a completely different city. Gone are the high-rises, the outlet stores for European fashion brand names, the penthouses with water views... The storefronts suddenly took on a different character, and every few blocks you could see large portraits of bearded Mullah's & Ayatollah's beaming out over the neighborhood like patron saints. Occasionally along the streets you'd see a poster of a young man staring out at you with an unreadable expression, whose image was captioned with something cryptic in Arabic. Bechara explained to us that these portraits were of martyrs who had sacrificed their life as part of the struggle... Against whom? Israel? the West? An encroaching modernity whose relentless push compelled a death in service of the greater cause?
It's been a long time since I've been anywhere near that kind of fanatical fervor, that kind of absolute faith in a religious leader and their dogma. I was so enthralled with looking around that I don't think I fully heard Bechara's detailed explanation of this neighborhood, it's heritage, and its residents. On the surface it just looks like any other Arab street, although the haphazard layout of the buildings clearly demonstrated that there was no zoning authority operating when a lot of these structures were built. That's what happens when a city is at war for decades at a time... Looking around, you see people everywhere, almost entirely men, hanging out, drinking tea in front of stores, working on automobiles and doing all the things you see in any city in the world. It's strange to think that a sizable contingent of the population in this part of the city can transform in an instant into soldiers for Hezbollah, content to follow orders relayed to them from some leader they've pledged absolute loyalty to. I don't know of any analogous situation in any country in the world, where a paramilitary force in one country is financed largely by neighboring governments, and their political and religious institutions. It's hard to wrap your head around the role of Hezbollah in Lebanon, and what it's done here in the last 30 years... Syria and Iran are its primary financiers, but the group is headquartered here, in southern Beirut, in the southern and western areas of the city and its suburbs that appear a bit run down compared to the glitzy parts of the city. It was a trip to look out over this area as we hastily drove through it, to contemplate its citizens, it's advocates, it's soldiers, and the imported agenda they are willing to die for. I was under the impression Hezbollah was a lot more marginalized than it really is... This is no fringe outfit, no secret militia gathering in the dark, but a well-funded political party with seats in Parliament and widespread support amongst certain sections of Lebanon's population. I'll have to read more about this group, as my perceptions have been colored by the US media, with its inherent pro-Israel tilt, and it's sensationalist approach to "the war on terror." Not that I can ever fully understand any religious or political party that advocates violence as a means to achieve their ends, but there are stories and rationales and history here I am unfamiliar with. I suppose it starts with reading, once again, who this group is. Below is an excerpt from the New York Times about Hezbollah. It's worth another look, considering these are suddenly people I can now put faces to, whose neighborhoods I am a fleeting guest in...
Hezbollah is a Shiite military, political and social organization in Lebanon with strong ties to Iran and Syria. Over the past generation, it has transformed itself from a shadowy militant group known primarily for terror attacks to the country’s pre-eminent political and military force.
The United States regards Hezbollah as a terrorist group financed by Iran, which has supplied as much as $200 million a year, and by Syria. But as Iran’s economy buckles under sanctions related to its nuclear program, and Syria reels in the face of widespread protests, that aid has diminished, even as Hezbollah’s financial needs have grown alongside its increasing legitimacy.
The result, American officials and analysts say, has been a deeper reliance on criminal enterprises — especially the South American cocaine trade. The books of a Lebanese bank that was sold after American officials exposed its money-laundering operation offer evidence of an intricate global apparatus that appeared to let Hezbollah move huge sums of money into the legitimate financial system, despite sanctions aimed at cutting off its economic lifeblood.
Hezbollah first came to notice outside of Lebanon in 1983, when it was blamed for the bombing of a U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut, killing 240 soldiers. Now it has an armed militia more powerful than the Lebanese Army and a sprawling infrastructure that delivers welfare to its Shiite constituency, Lebanon’s largest community.
In 2012, Hezbollah found itself increasingly on the defensive over its support ofBashar al-Assad, the president of Syria, in his year-long crackdown on unrest in his country. Hezbollah faced an increasing risk of finding itself isolated, possibly caught up in a sectarian war between its patron, Iran, the region’s Shiite power, and Saudi Arabia, a protector of Sunni interests in the Middle East.
Syria’s conflict is testing Hezbollah’s longstanding contradictions. It relies on public support, yet sometimes behaves autocratically; it is a national group founded to fight Israel’s occupation of southern Lebanon, but owes its military might — and the funds that rebuilt the south after the 2006 war — to Iran’s desire to project power; and it styles itself pan-Islamic, but it depends on rock-solid support from Lebanese Shiites for whom it won long-denied power as it became the Middle East’s most formidable militant group and Lebanon’s strongest political force.
Most of all, Hezbollah won respect by sticking to its principles, even among rival sects and the leftist cafe regulars in Beirut who are skeptical of its religious conservatism. Now it is paying a price for its politics of pragmatism in Syria.
Background
Founded three decades ago as a guerrilla force aimed at the Israeli occupation of southern Lebanon, Hezbollah has never before had such a prominent place in the country’s official politics. Yet much of its power, and its ability to operate with some impunity, derives from elsewhere: from its status as a state within the Lebanese state.
Its militia is considerably stronger than the national army. Its social service agencies perform many of the functions of government, and it controls the international airport and the smuggling routes along the Syrian border, as well as the budgets of the government agencies charged with policing them....
Map of Beyrouth
View Larger Map The city of Beirut is laid out on a peninsula between two big hills, Al-Ashrafiyah and the Al-Musaytibah. The rest of Lebanon seems to be hilly and mountainous, and this small stretch of relatively flat coastline is logically where the city grew, as it's accessible from water and from the paths leading into the mountains... Here's an interesting link to a scholarly document on the "Historical Topography of Beirut," which is quoted below:
"One must examine its geographical context in order to understand why Beirut existed. Beirut peninsula occupies a complex site wedged between the base of the Mount Lebanon range, and the sea, which surrounds it on two of its three sides. This triangularshaped area is far from being uniform. Two hills (named the Asharafiyyeh and Ra's-Bayrut hills for convenience) occupy the northern part of the peninsula. The Ra's-Bayrut hill falls steeply into the sea at the Rawsheh cliffs, while the eastern edge of Ashrafiyyeh was cut by the Beirut river forming an escarpment at Siufe and Karm az-Zaytun. These two hills overlook low-lying areas to the North and South. To the South a more-or-less flat plain extends towards Burg al-Baragneh and Shuayfat. The soils are rich and fertile with mainly colluvial deposits washed down from the overlooking hills and mountain. However, to the South-West, sand dunes resulting from sediments brought to the shore by sea currents and blown inwards by the prevailing south-westerly winds have encroached on this plain. With vegetation unable to colonize the area, the dunes have slowly advanced, rendering agriculture precarious on the fringes of the fertile plain."
La Raouche
After lunch, Bechara asked us if we'd like to spend the afternoon seeing some more of the city and countryside, and we agreed without hesitation. Rarely is any traveler presented with an opportunity for an extensive free tour, accompanied with an expert tour guide, in an air conditioned BMW. To have Bechara shepherd us around and give us insight into his country was a rare treat, and something I hope to be able to reciprocate someday in whatever corner of the world I'm in. We piled into Bechara's car and took off south down Beirut's coastline, gazing at the beautiful Mediterranean on our right and a cityscape on our left that quickly changed. Within a few minutes we found ourselves at La Raouche, or "the rock", a natural landmark along the coastline that's also sometimes called the "pigeons' rock." We stopped and took a few pictures. "La Raouche" also refers to the upscale neighborhood alongside this area of the coastline, and you can see why it's hot property. What a view... Within a minute after getting out of the car we were asked by multiple people if we wanted to take boat ride around the caves down by the water, but we didn't have time. We took a few hurried pictures and then piled back in Bechara's car.
As we drove away, Bechara reminded us of a print ad LB/Beirut had done a few years ago for Crest, in which the agency had actually filled this iconic landmark to create an image dramatizing Crest's cavity fighting power. Below is the piece he was talking about:
Ksarak
Bechara shows us how to mix the ksarak...
There's an interesting profile of Lebanese wine here, excerpted below:
"The Bekaa Valley
is the home of modern Lebanese wine. Almost 90% of Lebanon's wine is
made here, as is a respectable proportion of its Arak, the
anise-flavored spirit that remains the nation's favorite alcoholic
drink. Although the Bekaa has long been a hotspot of agriculture in this
otherwise desertous, mountainous region, it is only in the past few
decades that its vinicultural potential has been truly realized...
Lebanon is a Middle Eastern country with an
ancient wine culture that has experienced a renaissance in the past few
decades. In 2011, roughly six million bottles of Lebanese wine were
produced from 5000 acres (2000ha) of vineyards concentrated mostly in
the Bekaa Valley. The majority of Lebanese wine is exported to the UK,
France and the USA, where the receptive consumer bases have encouraged
healthy growth in Lebanon's modern wine industry. In 1998 there were
fewer than ten wineries in Lebanon – now there are more than 30. The
majority of the wine they produce is red, made from the classic wine
grapes of southern France.
Lebanese wine history dates back more than five millennia. It begins
with the Phoenicians, an ancient civilization whose strong culture of
travel and trade was of considerable importance to the development of
early Mediterranean civilization. Wine was an important export for this
ancient culture, and was taken to Egypt in large volumes and traded for
gold."
Lunch @ La Plage
Spent
the morning and early afternoon setting up our meeting room in the penthouse.
Met Carol Hanna, who I've been emailing for years, and Hala Akiki, two of our
gracious and patient hosts from LB/Beirut who are tasked with shepherding our
group around and taking care of us. It's a thankless task to babysit tourists.
Especially creative directors. They're a breed unto themselves... But
Carol and Hala are all smiles and with many hands on deck, the work went fast...
These orange fruits are called nèfle (or Medlar in English), and they were sublime...
Halfway
through the morning Bechara Mouzannar showed up, the CCO of Leo Burnett in the
Middle East & North Africa (MENA). I've had the pleasure of spending time
with Bechara in cities all over the world and he's a connoisseur of culture like no one
else I know. He's been lobbying to get us to Beirut for years, and from the
sound of it, he's laid out a pretty compelling itinerary for our stay here.
When we finished up work, he whisked me, Rosalie, and Anja Radulovic (Leo
Burnett's
creative director from our Belgrade office) to a waterfront lunch at La Plage,
just a few hundred meters down the coast from the Phoenicia... This restaurant has nice little private patio attached to it for people who want to lay out by the pool... Great spot.
We
ate a delicious lunch of meze (moutabel, hummus, fatoush salad, & much more)
along with fresh fish and a sublime desert of beautiful fruit. Here are some
pics… Maybe I'll get some pictures from Anja to add, as she took much better photographs than I did...
The Penthouse
Wow. So normally for these meetings we spend four days stuck in a generic hotel meeting room or crammed into the agency's largest conference room. The folks from LB/Beirut decided to do things differently and booked us for 5 days in the Phoenicia's lavish penthouse suite, a gorgeous duplex equipped with a beautiful spiral staircase, a balcony to die for, and a killer view out over the Mediterranean. To the left is a picture of Bechara & Areej on the stairs, and below is a panoramic view from the deck just outside our meeting room. I am thankful to not be stuck in a droll generic hotel ballroom for 40 hours. This penthouse is gorgeous, and I hope to savor the view in between sessions...
Monday, May 14, 2012
House of Stone: The Work of Anthony Shadid
Before this week begins in
earnest, and my assumptions about Lebanon collapse in the face of direct
experience, it’s worth taking stock of the little I think I know about this
place. I have a rough sense of Lebanon’s recent history, of the turbulence that
has engulfed it for the past four decades, but it’s difficult to really keep
track of all the overlapping intrigues, plots, and wars that have played out
here simultaneously since the 1970’s. My awareness of what’s happened here has
been shaped largely by two formidable journalists who’ve had long and storied
careers as foreign correspondents, Robert Fisk of the Independent and the late
Anthony Shadid of the NYT and the Washington Post. They’re both truly inspiring
journalists, with huge bodies of work, but neither is particularly objective
when it comes to the Middle East. I’ll get to Fisk later in the week, but for
the moment I’d like to share the passage below from Anthony Shadid, who passed
away this year from an acute asthma attack while covering the current uprising
in Syria. He was Lebanese by heritage, but born and raised in America, and had
just recently published his latest book called House of Stone: A Memoir of Home, Family, and a Lost Middle East. I have not read it, but it’s a story of
his attempt to rebuild his ancestral home in Lebanon. Hadani Ditmar at the Globe and Mail wrote this about it:
“Lebanese-American journalist
Anthony Shadid’s House of Stone could easily have been subtitled maktoub.
The Arabic word for destiny looms large in the subtext of the late New York
Times correspondent’s writing. Not only does his drive to repair his ancestral
house in Lebanon amid the political wake of Rafic Hariri’s assassination – the
narrative thrust of the memoir – mirror his grandparents’ immigrant odyssey to
the United States in a reverse voyage of return, but every passage lovingly
describing a detail of Levantine architecture, or the olives in the garden he’s
restoring that he hopes to harvest one day with his young daughter, aches with
a premonitory sadness.”
Sounds like something worth
picking up. Democracy Now published an excerpt from it after his death, which
you can read in full here and which is quoted below:
"The Arabic language evolved slowly across the millennia,
leaving little undefined, no nuance shaded. Bayt translates literally as house, but its connotations resonate beyond rooms and walls, summoning longings gathered about family and home. In the Middle East, bayt is sacred. Empires fall. Nations topple. Borders may shift or be realigned. Old loyalties may dissolve or, without warning, be altered. Home, whether it be structure or familiar ground, is, finally, the identity that does not fade."
| Anthony Shadid 1968-2012 |
I’m a big fan of exiled writers detailing the inevitable decline of the
forlorn and threadbare identities of their ancestors… Looks like I’ll have to
pick this book up. Rest in peace Anthony Shadid.
Anatomy of a Welcome Pack
A peek inside the gift bag our friends at Leo Burnett Beirut gave to each delegate...
The Phoenicia Hotel
I'll be spending most of the week at the Phoenicia Hotel, a beautiful waterfront landmark in Beirut in the area called the Corniche. The hotel is 50 years old, but was completely destroyed during Lebanon's civil war in the mid-1970's, and like most of the buildings in the area, was left as little more than a burned out hull for decades. But the Phoenicia was rebuilt and completely refurbished in the 90's, and today it's a classy 5-star spot, that attracts business travelers and tourists with money to burn.
I arrived at the hotel and threw open my blinds, in the hopes that I might have a beautiful view of the Mediterranean, but unfortunately I found myself situated on the opposite side of the building, with a view inland. In truth, my room looked out over one of the most ugly construction sites I've ever seen, just a raw pile of materials stacked in haphazard piles up a precarious hill. Looming over the site was a huge shell of a building that was equally unattractive, burnt out and with walls riddled with bullet and grenade holes. It turns out this building is Beirut's former Holiday Inn, and it's been left in this sad state for decades. Apparently the fighting during the Lebanese civil war was so intense that fighters were moving room to room, tossing grenades against their enemies entrenched in other parts of the hotel. The buildings ruinous condition is a sad testament to an era of brutal violence, and from the comforts of the Phoenicia, it's a stark reminder that violence is only a few steps away... To see a more in-depth photo essay by Fergus Cunningham of the remains of the Holiday Inn click here...
Picked Up In A Porsche
Landed, breezed through immigration and customs, and found my name in lights on an overhead monitor upon exiting airport security. There was a driver from the hotel waiting to pick me up, and he escorted me outside the airport into the the back of a snow white 4-door Porsche Panamera. I don't think I've ever been in a Porsche before, and that was one sweet ride. Surreal arrival. This week looks promising.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)



