itinerary#27
33.896423, 35.470738
33.882235, 35.531448
my father keeps a list of the items he and my mother brought with them when they left líbanon during the civil war. the list is neatly handwritten on a little notebook, and when i was young i was fascinated by it. it is a factual list, yet it was evocative of a past unknown to me. i now make my own lists, my own collections of words, numbers, people, things, observations. i wander around, take city walks like a modern-day flaneur, until the subjects of my lists appear to me as an evidence. i take my time. i look so i can see. anything that strikes me, i make note of. i keep walking, my eyes and mind unconsciously seeking the next addition.
the list is a way for me to understand the world, a way to make sense of it. the act of compiling is an attempt to comprehend. taken separately, each component of a list might not be of particular significance. when the components come together to form the list, they reveal veiled aspects of society, absurdities that our jaded eyes don’t notice anymore. some lists turn out more significant than others, exposing deep social or political issues while others remain on the lighter side. i consider them all of equal value, equal necessity, and part of the same project.
the list i am submitting today was compiled in beirut a few summers ago. i walked from the raoche through hamra, crossing into the east side of the city, through achrafie, and after many detours ending in mar miguel. the list is my own map of beirut, a continuous flow that tries to take note of each neighborhood’s particularities and idiosyncrasies. i propose this subjective, narrative mapping of beirut for your next issue and i hope it fits your editorial requirements (hand-written version available).
cats
waiting to be fed
an escalator leading to someone’s home
a crumbling pink mansion
a tiny lighthouse
an old school without any pupils
the headmaster still lives there
a butcher grilling meats
on the sidewalk
a teenage boy helping him
the smell of jasmine flowers
a large portrait of a dead politician with a moustache
a small portrait of a dead politician with a moustache
a girl with abundant dark curls
and skinny legs
a mosque
another mosque
a policeman ordering spinach pies
a policeman looking at him
two policeman eating spinach pies
a family eating merry cream
in a parked car
a maid walking a fancy dog
she smiles back
lots of cats
some have tears and cuts on their ears
a fight in front of a coffee shop
no one interferes
a restaurant with an african barmaid
a child selling gardenia necklaces
we high-five
a blocked street
another blocked street
two more
i walk quietly
slogans about the truth
the smell of fried falafel
a very large sandwich shop
a gas station employees call home
a daytime karaoke pub
lots of pretty girls, possibly filipinas
coconut fried rice
reminds me of home
a public garden
for some reason it has wifi
a dodgy bar where girls look bored
and men look sleazy
the house where an enlightened leader used to live
it is believed he has reincarnated
boiled beans from a food cart
sprinkled with lemon and cumin
an old mansion
the curtains are torn
piles of stinking garbage
and a very thin cat
a palm tree
standing between construction sites
posters from elections past
a coffee shop in a red van
an empty parking lot
a house with a garden
the smell of jasmine
i pick some delicate flowers
yellow flags brandishing a weapon
green flags with a neat circular logo
a spray painted fire truck
a cemetery with a view
narrow streets
old men playing cards
on a plastic table
they blend into the background
dusty buildings on the verge of collapse
young men killing time
smoking cigarettes on their scooters
two falafel shops with the same name
a fancy restaurant
the smell of sewers
a middle aged woman
dressed like a teenager
asian maids talking in an alley
a chaotic intersection
scarce pedestrians
doormen sitting quietly
a black car with tinted windows
and a vanity plate
a sumptuous villa
heavily guarded
arabic music
played live in a restaurant
the smell of roasted chicken
a few hungry cats
they must be related
old decorative tiles in the entrance of an apartment
a shop owner yelling at passersby
beggars
a chicken
a man wearing a hygienic face mask
selling chewing gum
painted stairs
a tourist taking a photo of the painted stairs
a large portrait of a handsome politician
he’s dead too
an electricity company
with a half-lit neon sign
an old bus depot
buses with flat tires
some firetrucks
dog caca
armenian shops
imported sparkling water
a church
a toothless woman sitting on the side walk
holding garbage bags
abandoned train tracks
with grass inside
bad street art
the smell of burnt rubber
functional traffic lights
a flea market
a depressed turtle in a cage
empty basketball courts
frangipanis trees
wide roadways
leading to an iron bridge
crossing over what used to be a river
a familiar face
she’s angry, i’m late