Beirut, 5000 Years in the Making

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Beirut is a city of baffling contradictions whose character blends the sophisticated and cosmopolitan with the provincial and parochial. Our city sits atop two hills, Al-Ashrafīyeh (East Beirut) and Al-Muṣayṭibeh (West Beirut), which protrude into the sea as a roughly triangular peninsula. In the immediate hinterland lies a narrow coastal plain (Al-Sāḥil) that extends from the mouth of the Nahr Al-Kalb (Dog River) in the north to that of the Nahr Al-Dāmūr (Damur River) in the south.

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United for the Love of Food

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Every waking thought fueled by juicy strawberries not from distant lands, stalked by native asparagus, pine nuts, oak honey, dried apricots rolled thin into sheets, zaatar, ‘the sheikh’s’ raspberries, eating a Man’oushe from Rima’s saj, and buying my boys kale chips from Biolicious, pushes me out of bed on Saturday morning heading to Souk el Tayeb.

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The Precious One

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Fresh from the tree, the Akedene is juicy, sweet, and bursting with juice and flavor. But it’s so delicate and decays so quickly that it’s rarely shipped to commercial markets, making it one of the precious spring fruits of Lebanon, its season starting in April. Sometimes it is hanging in many loquat trees around the capital in old buildings front yards.

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The Village Poet

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Why did Mirsal leave her letters here, between my hands?  Uprooting her from her existence just like the poplar trees shed their yellow leaves to end a precarious phase of time’s chapter. And time passes, and it keeps going, and I see its footprints on top of these yellow worn-out pages…

(Translated from Tyour Ayloul, I did not do justice to the text but that’s the best I could do)

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