BITTERSWEET LOVE

I believe in love. I do. 

The kind of love that bonds you to your fresh cup of coffee early in the morning. The kind of love that tingles from your pores after a good corniche run. The kind of love you feel for practically everything two glasses of wine later. 

I also believe in the other kind of love. The traditional kind. Not in forevers, but in love. And yes, I believe it is beautiful. 

I thought I could try and point out some romantic quirks in this city. I worry though that I'd sound like a complete fake seeing as to I am not in love myself. But I can still spot them. Or recall them. I was there once. 

Problem is, these romantic quirks are quite subjective. I am titillated by the most random moments, events, actions, and locales. At one point, taking a walk all over Hamra on a quiet Sunday morning Starbucks black and bitter in hand, was one of those romantic quirks. I could do it all the time. 

At another, sipping on Almazas that had long ceased to be cold climbing the stairs of Vendome, Achrafieh to reach a certain step high enough to look down at the main road below did it too. 

Buying mussels and coquilles st jacques from the Achrafieh street dude Ali coupled with a bottle of chilled white wine and drinking it on a construction site was high on the list.

But this can't all be about me.

So I asked around. 

However, practically everyone and their mothers' answers seemed to include: "doin it"… in de Prague's toilet…. in BO 18's parking lot… on Centrale's staircase…" I kid not.

After getting over the apparent death of romance and the realization that 'doin it' period is seemingly romantic, here's what I was also told would make the list:

- "Getting hot chocolate while in the car from Beirut Cafe and parking on the 'hill' right in front of Movenpick at 2am and watching the ocean and the lights." 

- "Jumping in the sea after a party on a hot night and swimming in our underwear just before the sun comes out in Ain el mraisseh where we're technically in a sewage but the sea is too dark then to look dirty."

- "A nice walk on the corniche and then a sit down at Sporting then a Ferris wheel ride at sunset"

- "Watching the sunset at Rawda Cafe; a place where its scandalous to kiss or make out."

- "Driving to the deserted house near Harissa in the middle of the night and making out to the city view below."

- "Midnight of a hot summer, taking a bottle of wine and 2 glasses up to the roof and swimming in the inflatable pool in our underwear."

- "Driving to the corniche during a storm and letting the waves splash over the car while we cozy up inside."

- "Shopping at Souk el Tayib then following it up with Hamra's nice small second hand bookshops."

A part of me was hoping to discover something new; some new locale, new activity, new thrill. And yet, I realized the corniche - to swim, to stroll, to have coffee, to run, to watch the sunset-  kept popping up. Constantly. With almost everyone. It got a unanimous vote.

And honestly, I believe I don't need to wonder why.

Petra

ORFALI

While Petra wine rants about pretty things, I obsess about food.

And so, this story starts and ends like this:

I love Kafta. Full stop. 

What follows is thus pure compulsive behaviour; the quest for the best kebab sandwich in town; 

In the heart of the Armenian quarter of Beirut, on a busy street in Burj Hammoud, a small hole in the wall. Fantastically kitsch; Turquoise blue facade, green plastic vine leaves decorating the Pepsi fridge, a kind of a creepy, ugly, bobbing head dog with a silver collar next to the window, a bar for 5 people facing the charcoal grill where all the magic happens. A wife dicing vegetables in the back, and a husband preparing and serving you. The whole package. 

Orfali.

Where everything is so good! Orfali sandwich is what I order. And Arayess. And Hummus. 

The Orfali one is only available in summer. Because it has aubergines in it, the owner refuses to serve it when aubergines are out of season. But aubergines are never out of season!! Yes he would answer, but they're not as juicy and yummy in winter time. Come back in February he would tell you.

Then he would start telling you about this Hummus he just served you. The beans have been boiling since 4 this morning. On low heat. Because this is how you keep the flavor. Low heat and long hours.

And while your mouth waters only looking at those Arayess dripping behind him on the fire, he cuts your next sandwich in 2, hands you and your partner each a half, and looks out from behind his thick glasses to check the ecstatic look on your face with the first bite, before going back to slowly making, one after the other, sandwiches that fill your heart as much as your belly.

I obviously can not tell you enough about this place. You have to try it out.

But I have noticed one thing while writing this post; besides serving great food, what I love most about this place is how everybody takes so much pride in what they're doing. 

To me, it's probably that pride that brings those sandwiches so close to perfection.

Luana

THE OUTPOST

Working  on this blog is not as easy as I thought it would be. There's a thin line between sounding interesting and perhaps even a tad useful to others and just 'wine' ranting. But seeing as to this is NOT my personal space to share personal thoughts that no one necessarily gives a flying fuck about, I will make the extra effort and type…nicely, some insights. 

Or at least I'll try. 

(Unless anyone would rather hear about my path to self discovery and/or my reviews of bottles of red, then feel free to inbox me)

I've always thought of Beirut as a melting pot. Nothing much seemed to stand out as different nor eccentric even, or rather especially, when it proclaims itself to be. Most endeavors fall short, not according to my own standards as I am by no means a yardstick in any form,  but still, they do.

And everyone I meet seems to be complaining. People are bored. Or fed up. Or disenchanted. And I struggle not to feel the same. 

And then I meet those other people. People who are wide-eyed optimistic and will fight  to do something completely different and feel proud. 

And voila, behold, The Outpost

It is a magazine of possibilities as its founders describe it. And quite frankly, besides the fact(s) that: 

One- the topics, - socio-cultural, political, economical - are original and well written; 

Two- the takes on those aforementioned topics shed light on a completely new perspective - one that 'upholds an optimistic view on a world where possibilities are endless' (taken from: www.the-outpost.com/); 

Three- the layout is simple and crap-free; 

Four- the talents are honest and optimistic;

… the people behind it freaking rock. Seriously. Period. @Ibrahim Nehme, @Stephanie Nehme and the whole Outpost team.

Do check it out. You can find it at Antoine Bookshop, Urbanista, Suz's and several other places. You can even follow their online audio content.

And do like them on Facebook :)

Their first official issue #1 (following issue #0) just came out. Buy it. And stay tuned. They will be causing quite the stir.

A last word: Beirut is home, by choice. I could go elsewhere but for now I don't want to. I choose to be here. And I know I run the risk of having sounded a bit tough on it, but I'm told we are only so with the ones we care about the most. Plus, the storm has let up; I will too.

Petra