Beirut is a city of contrasts. Old stone facades juxtapose with Western landmarks, like Starbucks (frown). Skinny-jeans clad women strut in their high platform heels in malls, alongside conservative Muslims in their traditional garb. Luxury buildings are going up daily, and the sight of cranes is nearly everywhere. But what struck me most on this particular journey- beyond all these sights, was the level of air and ground pollution. I would look around me in 365 degrees, and see this amazing topography of sharply rising hilltops and meandering coastlines. Yet, I was appalled. I was appalled at the amount of industrial output that burned my eyes and choked me to the core. Soot, diesel, fuels and oils, all burning into the skies above the still-blue Mediterranean. On top of that, people smoking everywhere.... Smoking cigarettes, hookah pipes, and who knows what else, in nearly every restaurant and cafe. It's as if there is a collective societal oral fixation, some sort of regressive behavior as a result of its past civil war and subsequent conflicts. After noticing the palpable thickness of the air, I looked down, and found......... more trash!
The city's sanitation problem was neither unmanageable, nor acceptable. There were neatly disposed heaps of garbage bags waiting to be picked up on the curbs of every building, and there were also terribly foul piles of refuse elsewhere. And then, more mounds of garbage along the highway, and strewn through every alley I passed. When the rain came, there was a distinct scent of vomitus. That was a clear indication of the level of nastiness. Small trucks came along to pick up, but with such a brief stay, I was unclear on the current efforts of local governments, to prioritize this sanitation issue.
Once I accepted the reality of these basic environmental issues, I set off on a walk one morning, to get a closer look. And, behold, there was this most unexpected, and wonderful sight. There, behind my old neighborhood of Zalka, between rows and rows of 1970s concrete slab apartment buildings: An urban farm and greenhouses!
This made me happy. Very happy. It showed me this rebirth of sorts. From the ground up. Literally.
I approached slowly, not knowing if I might be trespassing. The perimeters filled with muddy clay soil, I approached the manager and, mixing French with English (as I've forgotten the Arabic language), requested permission to check out the goods!
IT was hard for me to believe, after seeing nothing but gray urban landscape, that this could exist in the middle of the city! I talked to Nicolas, the farm operator, who assured me that his crops are "organically grown". One never really knows for sure, but I politely smiled, showed my enthusiasm, shared my garden pictures from home, and he in turn, showed me all the crops he grows, like the strawberries (above) and then the cucumbers, roma tomatoes, and loads of swiss chard, which are all sold at his roadside stand.
I realized I was probably overreacting with excitement, to something so natural to people like Nicolas, as this is their livelihood. I kept saying "wow, how beautiful!", at all the beautiful rows of crops around us. But I thought to myself: Let him think I'm a bit nutty, this California girl has the right to express her passion for all things green. Plus, this is all happening in her old neighborhood!
As I took off, I looked down to see my brand new sneakers were all muddy, but I did not care. I was simply happy to share a few wonderful, insightful minutes in this little urban haven.
