Beirut – The City of Duality
Our Lebanese experiences continued.
After the shock of the first day, we rested a little, gathered ourselves, and headed back into the city. We no longer wanted simply to survive — we set out to explore Beirut.
At first, everything still felt confusing and difficult to interpret. The same streets. The same noise. The same contradictory images. But as time passed, the picture slowly began to sharpen. It did not become simpler — only more understandable.
This is no longer the story of the first day.
This is the point where the city of duality begins to reveal itself.
Series
This post is part of a larger series. Here you can see where you are – and what’s already done.
Now: Experience
Beirut – The City of Duality
Next: Experience
Northern Lebanon Adventure
Show contents
Prologue
Quick post
Experience
Itinerary
Epilogue
Courage and Disinfection
We woke up having more or less recovered from the shock of arrival. More or less. There had not been much time to regenerate — we had gone to bed sometime around three in the morning. By breakfast, the team had gathered again, slightly crumpled but noticeably determined.
In a country with a different bacterial ecosystem, even an innocent-looking ice cube can feel like a declaration of war to a pristine European stomach. With that in mind, we quickly reached a consensus: we would be cautious. And if we were going to be cautious, we might as well disinfect. On an alcohol basis.
So there we were, facing the day with a trace of anxiety, confidently ordering a beer for each of us — and an arak to go with it. Just to be safe.
The waiter looked at us in confusion, then asked to make sure he had heard correctly.
“Beer? Now?”
We looked at each other.
Why do things halfway?
If courage is required, we’ll supply it ourselves.
When the Smile Fades
After securing the necessary level of courage, we headed toward the sea.
On the way, a young girl appeared — begging. We did not give her anything. In response, she resorted to a tactic unfamiliar to us at the time: she grabbed my hand and refused to let go.
What do you do when a seven-year-old girl clings to your arm? At first, it seemed almost amusing. Then increasingly uncomfortable. We did not yet know that in such situations you must respond firmly and clearly — and they will let go. By the time we reached the waterfront, we had actually managed to lose one of our companions in the confusion.
The Mediterranean itself was beautiful in principle — deep blue, bright horizon — but scattered piles of trash lay everywhere along the shore, and the water did not exactly invite swimming. Even though it was hot. Very hot.
Then another child appeared, circling one of our friends. We laughed — “now it’s his turn.” Then a second child joined. Then a third.
And in that moment, the smile froze on our faces. This was no longer amusing. It had weight.
That was when we understood. We reacted clearly, firmly, without hesitation. We signaled that they should leave.
And they did.
That was when we learned the first rule.
Beirut does not ask.
But if you know what you are doing, it lets you go.
The Two Beiruts
We continued along the seafront toward the yacht marina, driven by a very basic shared need: proper coffee. What followed was the familiar ritual — sipping slowly, stretching time, sitting without quite knowing which direction to choose next. Some of us were already restless, so eventually we set off to explore the area, cutting through one of the city’s more upscale neighborhoods.
Around the marina and in the surrounding streets, everything that Beirut represents seemed to coexist at once. The aftereffects of the 2020 port explosion — caused by the detonation of stored ammonium nitrate — were still visible. So were the scars of the Lebanese Civil War (1975–1990). For kilometers, buildings stood with their window glass simply missing, while only a few streets away brand-new constructions rose from the ground, speaking the language of money and ambition.
As we walked, one of us photographed the new buildings, another the old ones. The same city — seen from two entirely different angles.
The same duality appeared in the shops. Muslim- and Christian-owned businesses stood side by side, mixed together. From the storefronts alone, it was often possible to guess who ran them. The Christian-owned shops seemed to target wealthier customers, while the Muslim-owned stores catered more to lower-income groups. And yet, they existed next to each other without visible friction.
We passed the officers’ swimming pool, and every so often stumbled upon remnants of bunkers — quiet reminders that history here is never far below the surface.
The specific sights will come later. For now, we were simply getting to know Beirut.
By Taxi into the City’s Other Face
After covering the “must-see” spots along the coast, a new task awaited us: finding a taxi. The National Museum of Beirut lies in a part of the city that is not exactly considered the most relaxed area for wandering on foot — and in any case, it was no longer a comfortable walking distance.
In Beirut, a taxi meter is more of a theoretical concept than a practical tool. It is best to agree on the price in advance — not only for the route, but per person — to avoid misunderstandings later.
It quickly became clear that the questionable technical condition of our taxi was not an exception. It seemed to be the rule. Rusted bodies, loose doors, interiors that had clearly seen better decades — the kind of vehicles where you feel that even if the key were left inside, someone could simply reach in and grab it. And yet they ran. They functioned. And no one seemed particularly concerned.
As we moved through the city, what had initially felt like total traffic chaos slowly began to reveal a pattern. A system. Not one remotely resembling European traffic regulations — about as similar as Makó is to Jerusalem — but a system nonetheless. And, remarkably, it worked.
We finally arrived at the museum, and cameras immediately began clicking. The exhibition itself is extraordinarily rich, layer upon layer of Beirut’s history unfolding before you.
But that deserves a separate post of its own.
Lunch, Bay Rock Style
After the museum, hunger returned with perfect predictability. With growing confidence, we flagged down a taxi and issued a simple instruction: take us to a good restaurant. The driver nodded and delivered us to Bay Rock, right beside the famous Pigeon Rocks — the iconic offshore rock formations along Beirut’s Raouché coastline. The location alone was promising, but the restaurant exceeded every expectation.
The moment the waiter realized we were Western visitors, things escalated quickly. A local family was gently relocated from their table — apparently to ensure we would not change our minds and leave. It felt slightly absurd, but it was also a very Middle Eastern kind of seriousness about hospitality.
We were not deeply familiar with Levantine cuisine, though Lebanon’s strong French influence has shaped its gastronomy to a remarkably high level. Standing over the menu, we hesitated.
The head waiter solved the problem with confidence: he would simply bring us a bit of everything. Vegetarian, fish, or BBQ? We chose BBQ. The subject of raw meat (a nod to dishes like kibbeh nayyeh, a traditional Lebanese raw minced meat preparation) also came up. The head waiter smiled with such certainty when he assured us it was delicious, safe, and healthy that we decided to trust him.
He was right.
When it was finally time to leave, departure proved less straightforward. A group of young men had gathered around our taxi. No problem, apparently. The driver pressed harder on the accelerator. The car surged forward, and the crowd scattered instinctively.
And just like that, we were moving again.
Rooftop Pool and the Evening Call to Prayer
After lunch, fatigue finally caught up with us. We had completed the day’s planned sights, walked several kilometers, and absorbed more than enough impressions for one day. Slowing down was no longer a question — we headed back toward the hotel. On the way, we stopped at a small shop to purchase the essential supplies: a few cans of beer for the rooftop.
The plan was simple. Recover in the hotel’s rooftop pool.
There is something uniquely surreal about floating in a rooftop pool in Beirut, drinking a locally brewed Beirut beer, while the city glows beneath you. The sun sinks slowly behind the skyline, concrete turns orange, the air remains heavy and warm. And then, suddenly, the muezzin’s call to prayer rises over the rooftops.
In that moment, everything converges — city, faith, chaos, calm. It would have been hard to place a stronger full stop at the end of the day.
But Beirut is not a city that allows you to remain in that state for long.
As darkness settled, we drifted back into motion. Clubs, dinner, drinks, moving from one place to another without much of a plan. Roughly every hour, the power went out for ten to fifteen minutes — the music stopped, the lights died, the city briefly held its breath. Then everything resumed as if nothing had happened.
By the end of the night, somehow, we had begun to move in rhythm with the city. The first uncertainties had faded. The initial tension had settled.
By the time we returned to the hotel, we were no longer trying simply to survive.
We had started to acclimatize to Beirut.
The first day was hard.
Physically exhausting, emotionally overwhelming. Beirut did not spare us — nor did it try to.
But by the end of the day, we could feel something shift inside us.
The city had not grown quieter. It had not become less contradictory. We had simply begun to adjust. The noise no longer pressed down on us. The crowds felt less threatening. Even the smog seemed less aggressive than it had upon arrival.
We did not grow used to Beirut — we just accepted it.
And that was enough to keep moving.
The next day, leaving Beirut behind for a while, we rented a car and headed north toward Northern Lebanon.
The story of the city was not over.
It had only paused.
We would return.
Where next?
Continue the series – pick the next stop.
Now: Experience
Beirut – The City of Duality
Next: Experience
Northern Lebanon Adventure
Show contents
Prologue
Quick post
Experience
Itinerary
Epilogue
Sources
- Based on personal experiences and first-hand observations.
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Part of the Tales from the Middle East series by Absurd Empire.
