Blogging Beirut

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Putting Beirut on the map

One young man's determination to assemble a detailed atlas of the city's streets

By Kaelen Wilson-Goldie
Daily Star staff
Wednesday, July 27, 2005

BEIRUT: Anyone in the Lebanese capital who has ever taken a taxi, ordered food for delivery, or asked for directions knows that when navigating the city of Beirut no piece of information is more useless than a street name. Trekking from one Beiruti neighborhood to the next is never a precise science of turning one way or another on specific streets but rather a loose art in, say, hooking left around a flower shop, passing a movie theater and a gas station, turning right at a bank, and stopping in front of a school opposite a vegetable stand. Ask a shopkeeper in Hamra for the way to Mahatma Gandhi Street, for example, and even if he has been operating a business on that exact street for 30 years, he will likely tsk and tell you it doesn't exist.

While there is a certain charm to the informality with which the citizens of Beirut circulate their city - and a certain intimacy inherent in the act of always asking for directions, exchanging niceties, and getting to know area residents through casual conversation - it can get annoying when one wants to get from point A to point B with relative ease and self-sufficiency.

Bahi Ghubril knows this all too well. Born in Beirut, Ghubril, now 34, has been living in London for the past two decades. He returns to Lebanon five or six times a year, he says, "And I drive. I drive everywhere." Ghubril likes to visit friends and see family members. He likes to entertain people at his parents' house in Rabieh. But he does not like to stop at six different gas stations to ask for six different sets of directions, many of which inevitably end up to be of dubious accuracy. He does not like to get stuck in traffic bottlenecked behind a lost driver hanging out his car window and begging for guidance from passing pedestrians. And he does not like the fact that while Rabieh may have a brilliant internal grid system no one can ever find it without making numerous frantic phone calls.

For 10 years, Ghubril has been stewing on the idea of making a comprehensive street index for Beirut, much like London's A to Z and Rome's Tutto Citta. For two years, he has been actively working to realize the project. Thirty municipality meetings, 85 square kilometers, 200 color-coded maps, and countless pavement pounding hours later, Ghubril is getting ready to publish his first edition of the "Beirut Street Directory."

Covering metropolitan Beirut from Bourj al-Barajneh in the south to Antelias and Naccache in the north, and from the sea to Baabda and Mansourieh toward the mountains, the "Beirut Street Directory" features page after page of detailed urban maps, all on a scale of 1 to 5,000, indicating streets, squares, agricultural areas, parking lots, construction sites, and landmarks both official (hospitals, universities, civic buildings) and unofficial (those places that have become well-known geographical markers through heavy colloquial reference and use).

Ghubril is printing 10,000 copies of the A5-size booklet. He has asked graphic design students at the Lebanese American University to compete for the cover art. He is hoping to make the street atlas available later this year at newsstands, kiosks, gas stations, and book stores. And he is angling to carve out loyal adherents to it among Lebanese returnees, foreigners living and working in Beirut, and young natives who are just learning to drive. Eventually, he hopes delivery boys and taxi drivers city-wide will use it as well.

"Most Beirutis over 40 don't believe they need it," he says. "But people who are starting to drive love [the idea] because it's like a treasure hunt."

Overall, Ghubril adds, "the Lebanese are interested in where they are relative to Beirut, in where things fall. It's nice visually to know your city."

What is perhaps most striking about Ghubril's project is that nobody assigned or commissioned him to do it. It wasn't a job; it was a labor of love, a long act of determination, maybe even an obsession.

Having worked for 10 years in finance before he returned to school to study acting two years ago, Ghubril has an affinity for independent projects. He has so far worked mostly with theatrical productions and this is his first foray into publishing. But he seems to have the marketing mettle and business bits to pull it off. That and a small dose of fearlessness.

Ghubril began with old maps of Beirut. He hit the streets on foot, by bicycle, and with a friend and a driver, checking the names against the old atlases. (Later he commissioned the Bourj Hammoud-based topographical firm GIS Transport Ltd. to create new maps based on satellite images. GIS could pick up any passageway wider than two meters. Ghubril would then visit the hazier areas himself to determine what was an alleyway, a blocked driveway, a makeshift garden, or a small street.) Invariably, this involved a lot of time loitering on street corners or climbing around looking for street signs under dense foliage, wild postings, and accumulated junk.

"People think you're weird wherever you are," notes Ghubril. But on his quest to commit all Beirut's street names to maps, people thought he was really weird. In other words, they thought he was a spy. On more than one occasion Ghubril was whisked away in an unmarked, window-tinted, bullet-proofed vehicle, taken to an undisclosed location, and questioned heavily. He had a letter of support and explanation from Lebanon's Tourism Ministry, but that didn't stop people from wanting to know exactly what he was up to, why, and for whom.

As such, Ghubril's project has coursed through the entirety of Lebanon's official bureaucracy, involving visits to the Tourism Ministry for the letter, the Interior Ministry for an ISBN number and the Economy and Trade Ministry to secure a copyright. He arranged meetings with 30 different municipality offices to go over his research and confirm his findings. "Some municipalities have excellent engineers," he says. "Some had no idea, no time, energy or will." In the end, Ghubril had to exclude from the atlas a few of the municipalities that were notably uncooperative.

What Ghubril discovered during the process was not only how things work bureaucratically in Lebanon but also how people live and govern their lives in real terms on the ground. Moreover, he learned how the city is assembled and laid out, and how movement through and around it is regulated. He also found that many of Beirut's streets do not have three official names (in Arabic, French, and English) as one might expect, but no official name at all. He discovered what is known to most in the neighborhood as Salon William Street in Dekwani (for the barber who has maintained a shop there for ages). He discovered great but entirely unknown and neglected names like Cleopatra Street in Ras Beirut. He discovered that there are Camille Chamoun Boulevards everywhere. He discovered that the new airport road is called Hafez al-Assad Avenue, the old airport road Khomeini Boulevard.

Ghubril looks down at his marked-up maps and scrunches his eyebrows together. He says he hopes to follow up his first edition with a second that relates the history of certain street names in detail. But what is clouding his expression now is the daunting realization that to keep even that first edition up to date is going to take serious effort in a city changing as fast and on as many political, social, economic, and geographic levels as Beirut.

The "Beirut Street Directory" will be published and made available throughout Beirut later this year.

For more information, E-mail: bahi (at) bahiworld.com

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Pedestrian's death near Dora bridge pushes activists into high gear

YASA head says citizen education is just as critical as infrastructure upgrades

By Jessy Chahine
Daily Star staff
Wednesday, July 27, 2005

BEIRUT: "Citizens still lack the proper awareness of the extreme danger they face when they choose to avoid using pedestrian bridges and cross the busy roads and highways beneath them," said Ziad Akl, head of Youth Association for Social Awareness (YASA). The remarks came as reports another citizen had been hit by a car Sunday while crossing the Dora highway. By chance, Akl had witnessed the incident as he was passing by and photographed the aftermath, but was unable to identify the victim.

"I took pictures of the accident, as the ambulance was on its way," he said, "the victim was barely breathing, I don't even know if he survived the accident. And on top of this, there was no media to capture the accident and spread awareness of the need to use pedestrian bridges in this country."

On Tuesday, anothe man was hit by a car while crossing a major highway, despite the presence of a pedestrian bridge not very far from the site.

According to YASA, the government should spread awareness and play an active role in demonstrating how "lethal" crossing the highways can be.

"In every other civilized country around the world a 100 meter barrier is set on both sides of a runway leading to a pedestrian bridge, in order to force people to climb on the bridge instead of crossing the road," Akl said, "unfortunately, this kind of prevention is inexistent in Lebanon."

Such precaution, Akl said, costs "practically nothing to build."

"You know the municipalities make a lot of money out of those advertisement posters that you see hanging on bridges and billboards," Akl said, "I wonder where all that money goes if only a small fraction of it is needed to build the pedestrian bridges barriers."

An engineer working at the Council for Redevelopment and Construction (CDR) said once the Ministry of Public Works ends the construction of the "promised" pedestrian bridges, the barriers issue would be raised with the Council. "First things first," said the engineer, who requested anonymity.

Indeed, on July 14, a sit-in was organized by YASA and the relatives of 18-year-old Elias Nabhan who was hit by a car last June while crossing the Louaizeh road, a very dangerous highway with no pedestrian bridge provided.

In response to the sit-in, CDR Vice President Dr. Alain Qabbani promised construction on the Louaizeh pedestrian bridge would be initiated in the coming weeks, adding "in a few months from now we will have several other pedestrian bridges constructed all over the country."

Akl said while "There are currently only 25" such bridges, "no less than 150" are in fact needed nationwide.

He explained that authorities had a tendency of pretending "Lebanese people do not use pedestrian bridges as they should, while studies have shown that 80 percent of the Lebanese actually used the pedestrian bridges."

Akl said more than 70 people are killed each year in Lebanon due to the lack of pedestrian bridges.

According to Akl, it is every Lebanese citizen's duty to claim their right to such bridges for their own safety.

"However, in a country with such lack of awareness about the use of pedestrian bridges, such bridges are sometimes inadequate, without the presence of adjacent barriers to force the people to climb the bridge instead of crossing the highway beneath."

FACT According to YASA, pedestrian accidents cause 220 casualties a year in Lebanon, with 1,100 people suffering permanent disabilities and 3,500 sustaining minor injuries.FACT -dailystar

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A little breakfast joint at the bottom end of Rue Monot, serving good food, in a quiet and clean atmosphere.

The pricing isn't exceptional, but the location is perfectly center of Beirut.

The owner is an old man, and most of their food is homemade (cheeses, pickles, and stuff).

Been around since 1929, even before the birth of Lebanon, and through the Civil War.

Remains as one of the few independently owned prime locations, by a local, who refuses to sell his heritage to the Monot Mafia.

Worth the visit if only to listen to his tales.





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Law 562 of the Penal Code permits men to kill female members of their family if the women have compromised the family's honor.

Law 522 pardons a rapist or kidnapper if he marries the victim.

You can make a difference by lending your support to "The Lebanese Women's Network" fighting to amend this absurdity.

(anyone who has any information about The Lebanese Women's Network, please post it as a comment, especially contact information that can be used to contact the network in support of this activity of theirs)

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Today I stumbled upon a PDF produced by LU / USJ / AUB (Lebanese Universities), listing and detailing policies, set forth by the youth, for the future of Lebanon (and how we would get there).

So I read, on and on, until I realized, that yes these guys/gals sure have something to say, and clearly know what they're saying, but provide little in terms of tasks that can be accomplished outside the realm of the government.
So.... if the government listened, Lebanon would be a great place tomorrow! How sardonic.

Yes, they are mostly political science students... but do they have to sound like politicians? What happened to the revolutionaries, that empowered the people to do their part...

And so again, much is said... Youth Policies

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Expert studies atmosphere contaminated mainly with Nitrogen Dioxide

By Raed El Rafei
Special to The Daily Star
Friday, July 22, 2005

Beirut pollution at alarming levels

BEIRUT: Air pollution has reached alarming levels in Beirut, according to the preliminary conclusions of a group of scientific experts from the University of Saint Joseph, revealed Thursday during a conference at the Municipality of Beirut. After four months of monitoring the levels of various pollutants in the air, the team, led by Professor Toufic Rizk, revealed the major substance contaminating the atmosphere is Nitrogen Dioxide (NO2).

"In some areas and at certain times, this pollutant reaches peaks that exceed by 110 percent the acceptable limits set by the World Health Organization," assured Rizk.

The main problem with NO2 is that, upon interaction with the sun's rays, it generates particles in the atmosphere that can lead to serious respiratory diseases, according to Dr. Tammam Naccache, an expert on transportation issues. This pollutant also leads to the creation of acid rain which harms the environment.

Insisting toxic emissions from vehicles are the major reason for pollution; Rizk explained "many cars, trucks and motorbikes have been circulating for a long time in the capital without being subject to regular maintenance."

He added: "Power generators and waste incineration cause pollution to a much lesser extent than one imagines."

Final conclusions, however, cannot be drawn until at least a year of analysis has been carried out as this is the time needed for the team to arrive at a reliable and scientific assessment of air pollution in the capital, according to Rizk.

"Monitoring the levels of pollutants is a process which requires continuous attention as it is affected by changes in humidity, temperature and topographical factors," he said.

In the first phases of the study, the team has installed monitoring equipment for several air pollutants in twenty four spots around the capital, in addition to a central assessment point in the Pine Horsh of Beirut.

In order to identify the best locations for carrying out these measures, Geographical Information System technology and digital satellite images were used.

The project, which will continue for three years, was initiated by the municipality of Beirut.

"It is the first time in the Arab region, a study of this scientific importance has been performed," said Abdel-Menem Ariss, mayor of Beirut.

Ariss insisted the project would also include awareness raising campaigns on the dangers of pollution and the excessive reliance on private means of transportation.

"We hope the results revealed by the study will push responsible parties to carry out measures to improve the quality of air in Beirut," he added.

On the other hand, the mayor complained of people stealing or damaging monitoring boxes and urged the protection of such equipment.

As a main supporter of the project, the French region of Ile de France has offered all the required monitoring equipment for the relatively small sum of 220,000 euros.

Jean-Noel Balleo, representative of the French Ambassador Bernard Emie, explained the project is part of a longstanding collaboration between the municipality of Beirut and French provinces.

"To improve the quality of life in Beirut, we have been carrying out several actions related to the environment such as the rehabilitation of Beirut's pine forest," said Balleo.

Stressing the aim of the French assistance on this issue is to promote local governance and decentralization, he added: "Lebanon is one of the world's top three beneficiaries of funds coming from French provinces." -dailystar

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Veteran restaurateur talks about the effect of changing times on the capital's nightlife

By Jim Quilty
Daily Star staff
Saturday, July 23, 2005

Beirut viewed through the lens of a bar glass

Interview

BEIRUT: "Once we were at Uncle Sam's when an army convoy pulled up outside," Nabil Majdalani chuckles as he reassembles the scene. "The officer came in and said everybody had to leave. 'There's a 200-kilogram bomb outside,'" he said. "All the guests decided to stay at the bar because they all lived a couple of blocks away. If this bomb was to blow they'd die either way. So we stayed at Uncle Sam's playing darts and having drinks. Nobody died."

Majdalani isn't in a talkative mood today. Maybe it's the heat and humidity that've enclosed Beirut recently. Even at his most taciturn, though, he'll spin a yarn that'd put most novelists to shame.

A Beirut restaurateur for more years than he'd care to see published, Majdalani was the owner of Uncle Sam's, a Ras Beirut landmark on the corner across from AUB's Main Gate from 1980-86 - conventionally known as the darkest days of Lebanon's Civil War. These days he owns Le Rouge, a successful bistrot-cafe-bar in the Gemmayzeh quarter.

Beirut has long thrived on its services - long before independent Lebanon existed, in fact - and that makes the city's restaurateurs a particularly rich source for one strand of Beirut's recent social history. Majdalani's stories are as entertaining as his insights are informative.

His early career reads like a tour of the creme de la creme of Beirut's prewar hospitality sector. His first job was at the legendary St. Georges Hotel - these days a Civil War ruin further damaged by the blast that killed former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri.

"I interned at the St. Georges ... no salary but I was making about $1,500 a month, a huge sum then. I had friends with doctorates making $500 a month."

He left Beirut in 1976 for Sharjah, in the U.A.E., to work on the opening of NovoTel. He ran a restaurant in Cannes - "Much nicer than Sharjah" - and returned to Beirut in 1980.

"Ras Beirut, AUB and that area used to be Beirut - between Hamra Street, Jeanne d'Arc, Bliss Street, the Central Bank and the universities. During the war things changed." he smiles. "Uncle Sam's worked tremendously. We had three hold-ups," he laughs. "It was fantastic.

"We never paid for militia protection," he says, "but there was the neighbourhood hizb - the SSNP. They were just before Cinema Strand. From the Strand and up it was Hizbullah. On the other side was the PSP."

He laughs again, recalling a robbery at Uncle Sam's. "One of our customers was passing by. He went directly to the gendarmerie. Meanwhile we'd told one of our cooks run to the SSNP.

"So the hizb came. The police came. The police shot at the hizb. The burglars threw grenades and left. It was crazy. The police came in and arrested all the guests." He laughs. "The only people who didn't get mugged were the burglars themselves."

In February, car bombs returned to Beirut political life in earnest. In the wake of each bomb, the quiet in Beirut streets has been palpable. Majdalani recalls people being more innocent 30 years ago.

"In 1975 nobody was afraid," he says. "We'd hear gunshots and people would say, 'Oh, gunshots.' The first time we heard shells coming it was 'Wow! Shells!' Like being in a movie.

"Frankly [peoples' habits of consumption] didn't change. ... Uncle Sam's was packed from morning to the 8 p.m. curfew. We had to kick people out. They didn't want to leave because they all lived close by and they thought they could walk home. We'd kick them out at eight and finally the last one would leave at 10 or 11 p.m.

"People were there, I think, to forget the war. And it was the place. Ras Beirut is where everybody gathered. Uncle Sam's, Backstreet, Smugglers - which was bombed - these were the places where people would go to blow off steam.

"We didn't really know how it was on the Green Line. We used to play tennis at the Renaissance every day, listening to bullets whistling overhead. We'd go swimming at Sporting Club. Shells were falling on your left and on your right. Because you were young you didn't give a s***" he laughs.

"Frankly you had to adapt. Otherwise you wouldn't survive. We wanted to stay there ... because we believed that staying in your place was the best thing to do. Though we weren't with any party."

Majdalani began earning his reputation as an innovator during the war. "I was the first person to start playing jazz in Beirut, at Uncle Sam's."

Jazz remained the theme for his next project, the Blue Note Cafe, which he opened on Makhoul in 1986. He later sold the company, which remains Beirut's cornerstone of imported and local jazz performance. He later acquired The Lone Star Cafe, near AUB.

At about the same time, Majdalani became involved in consultancy and branding. Among his many projects was the Hard Rock Cafe's Middle East franchise.

Beirut once had the distinction of being the only city in the world with two Hard Rock Cafes. The one in Ain al-Mreisseh, Majdalani's, was licensed from the U.S. company. The rights to the second, in Verdun, were seen as less legitimate because they were sold by an independent Canadian subsidiary.

There was a local wrinkle in this international dispute. "We had a fight over this and it was quite political. The one in Verdun was backed by the Shiite House speaker. Ain al-Mreisseh was backed by the Sunni premier," he chuckles. "This is Lebanon. Mayshil hal."

Majdalani suffered one setback in 1998 - Makhoul's Brasserie 101, which he says first brought mussels to Beirut. It fell victim to changing tastes, a shift that saw Monnot Street, near the old Green Line, boom at the expense of Ras Beirut and the north-eastern suburb Kaslik.

"The war was over and it was the closest place between two Beiruts. If you didn't want to go to East Beirut or West Beirut he would go to Monnot."

He attributes the relative decline of Ras Beirut to social factors. "There were times during the year when you didn't serve alcohol - because of religious feasts, Ashoura, Ramadan." People went elsewhere.

"It shifted, too, because there was a movement of new people to Ras Beirut. It was a clash of classes if you like, a clash of mentalities.

"We're in Gemmayzeh, now. Last year we didn't feel that it was Ramadan. While we were in Ras Beirut we used to live it. I'm sorry to use this 'East Beirut' 'West Beirut' but that's how it is.

"Restaurateurs live on hospitality. We don't talk politics. We don't talk religion. We eat all kinds of food. When you start having 'This you cannot serve' 'This you cannot eat' ... it's hospitality but not the sort that we're used to."

He pauses to speak to another customer. "For as long as I can recall Lebanon has been known for its hospitality. It used to be hospitality people opening businesses. Now ... Everybody thinks restaurants and hotels are the moneymaking thing, though 90 percent of them fail. The ones who last are those who've learned the business, who know how to deal with situations.

"Now there's Gemmayzeh. It's trendy. Why? Frankly I don't know. Except that it reminds me of Jeanne d'Arc street in West Beirut, where I was born." -dailystar

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