Saturday: Saida, Cinema and Samra

So the weekend had finally come and though I could not tell the difference, Chantal was glad for the break from her busy week at work. Thus she took on the new job of Guide and we debated over a late breakfast what our day's plans should be. After a few phone calls and finding many of our destinations closed/unresponsive and fears of impending rain, Chantal suggested we drive south to one of her favorite cities, Saida (Saidon).

Saida is only about 40 km south of Beirut (about the same distance as Byblos) in the southern region, a predominantly Muslim area. Lebanon borders Israel in the south so it often receives attention for extremist groups lobbing bombs over the border and being invaded by Israel, etc. As we drove, Chantal quizzed me on my education about the civil war and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and seemed surprised to hear that American universities aren't all spouting pro-Israeli propoganda. She explained that she feels a certain connection to the Muslim population in this area, likely because as a nurse at the AUB hospital, located in West Beirut, she cared for predominantly Muslim casualties during the civil war and she feels the greatest sympathy for the Palestinian refugees, though her sympathies don't extend to the extremists that the region houses (evidenced by flags of various colors denoting one's affiliation-- yellow for Hezbollah, green for Amal, etc). Saida is most famous for being the birthplace of former PM Rafiq Hariri and a lot of the city has been rebuilt after the civil war thanks to a foundation in his name.

We began at the Khan al-Franj (restored by the Hariri Foundation) apparently the largest/most beautiful/best preserved of its type, built in the 17th century by the Lebanese prince Fakhreddine. It has an open courtyard with two stories, the top level to provide housing for travelers and merchants, the lower level with covered stables and storage. I looked inside one of the stables and found a darkened room that housed a mini art gallery for pieces of work that all expressed emotions of hope, peace, anger and such about the Gaza-Israeli conflict.

However, our main attraction to Saida, in addition to its picturesque coastal setting, was the soap museum (al-mathaf a-sabon), a 13th century building rededicated to soap making in the 19th century, which we found after wandering through a maze of covered souqs and almost walking past its nondescript door. Its trilingual signs explained the process of "saponification," with displays of various ingredients used and their benefits, of tools used to process, cut and design the soaps. This particular factory had been used to supply the hammams (public bathhouses), so there was also a display about the customs and artifacts of the bathhouses. It was particularly interesting to read about the importance of personal hygiene in the culture and the use of hammams as social centers in Arab cultures where women weren't allowed to go out in public.

While I wandered the museum, Chantal waited for me in the accompanying cafe and when I was finished I met her for tea and orange blossom water. Then to the museum gift shop, which made me wish we had such bathhouses back in the US so one could justify spending so much on embroidered slippers, robes, towels, etc. It also made me think about how I could rearrange my already-overweight bags to pack in a few more gifts/souvenirs. And I haven't even arrived in Syria yet...

We somehow found our way back out of the markets and stopped to buy me a falafel sandwich (which cost less than my tea)-- I found it just as much fun to watch them make my sandwich as it was delicious for me to eat, looking out across the harbor to the floating Sea Castle (built by the Crusaders in 1228). Unfortunately the castle was closed off to visitors so we saw it from behind the bars, then returned to the car and drove back to Beirut, arriving just in time to make it to the cinemas to meet Chantal's friend for Revolutionary Road.

We left the theaters fully depressed after the movie (but don't let that discourage you from seeing it!) and after a few errands at the mall (where I spotted my first Uggs since arriving, though malls are malls) we met Michel for dinner at a Thai restaurant. After dropping him back at his apartment, we continued on to meet up with her co-workers at a cafe to celebrate the end of their monthlong-working-marathon.

The cafe was called Samra and was well-hidden on the second story of an otherwise empty street at 1030 on a Saturday night. It was relatively small with a bar in the back and posters of favorite old Egyptian movies, actors and singers (the only one I recognized/remember was a young Umm Kalthoum) and is apparently unique for its distinctly Arab character. The cafe slowly filled up, with both our table's mix of young and old, surrounded by groups of students and another table hosting a local (older) TV star and his large crowd. Later in the evening a band (bass, oud, violin and drum) arrived and began playing traditional Arabic music that everyone in the room except for the lone American knew all the words to. The room erupted into spontaneous and spirited dancing (though not spastic-- it was both calculated and expressive, in particular the national dance the debke, performed by a group holding hands moving in a circle [n.b. this is difficult in a crowded cafe]) as it seemed with each new song they remembered, 'oh yes, THIS is my favorite song,' and the dancers found a piece of floor to claim for their own. There were certain individuals who were particularly skilled (we had a former belly dancer in our own group) and I was impressed that across all age groups, male and female, no one held back from twisting their hips and waving napkins. I still think there may have been some musicians planted in the audience, as random people pulled out castanets, jumped up to the microphone to sing a few songs, etc. In short, the audience put on as much of a performance as the musicians did and I am sorry that I left my camera behind in the car. The belly dancer at our table was Syrian and she told me that I could expect as much fun in Damascus with good music and cheaper food [I continue to receive contradicting opinions about what to expect, I will just have to wait it out and see for myself]. Though she was born in Aleppo, she lived in Damascus for some period of time while dating an Italian diplomat, so much of her advice for a young Westerner was to seek out the embassies and foreign cultural centers for events and activities.

On the table (for approx. 10 people): 25 small dishes (about 2 of each) including bread, potatoes, hummus, eggplant dip, tabbouleh, fattoush, sausage, kibbe, cheese, vegetables, chicken, etc.