A week in Beirut: Friday
And finally it’s Friday and we spend the day at a friend’s house, up in the hills to the north of Beirut, with a view of the valley that takes your breath away and a view of the city that breaks your heart, seeing it choking in a cloud of smog.
For awhile now I’ve been wondering whether we should move house, crossing the not-at-all-green line through the heart of Beirut, past the blue mosque and beyond. It’s not a really a security question, or even a pollution question, it’s a ‘time travelling’ question. The hours I spend in taxis to-ing and fro-ing from friends’ houses are adding up and one by one those who live within walking distance are leaving.
But then again, where would we find another terrace like this one, where there’s more than enough room to swing a cat (or for my daughter to swing around and around wearing her favourite cat t-shirt!) and where I’m close enough to the sea to see what colour it is, wrapping its breeze lightly around my shoulders like a summer shawl.
And even though now, most of my friends are not my neighbours, the neighbourhood does have its charms, including, as I discovered today, it’s very own museum, right next door.