Heading Home

A lovely couple, somewhere in their sixties (?), on their way, or maybe coming from,  to what seems to be a social occasion.

Now that it is finally starting to cool off in town (some three weeks later than normal), Beirut is slowly becoming more pleasant. It is ‘walkable’ again. For people is cooler climates, who have never been in Beirut, this may sounds incomprehensible, but this town is practically ‘unwalkable’ in summer. Unwalkable in the sense that it is so hot and humid, that the place resembles a green house. Just walking to the post office or the supermarket becomes a feat, and you basically feel like taking a shower and changing all your clothes after every errant into town.

Four colorful ladies (my guess Syrian as their dress is a little too colorful/uncoordinated /conservative for the neighborhood) on their way home.

But now it is (almost) pleasant again. Two more weeks and it will be perfect.

On Friday evenings, after work, I gather with a few friends somewhere in Beirut for drinks, as we discuss current events, our experiences that week or reflect on life in general. We’ve been doing this for almost 15 years now, I believe, if not longer. 

Two ladies on their way from the gym (and the supermarket)

I cannot remember when we started with it, but apart from the summer hiatus, it’s a regular thing. Our partners and kids even know that this time is pretty much non-negotiable for family events. When they plan something, it’d be like “Oh no we can’t, it’s Friday and you’re with your friends.” There’s thousands of those inspirational quotes floating around the web, imploring the importance of a few good friends above wealth, a career and whatever else there’s to be had in the world, and it is quite true.

On their way from work, obviously.

And after our gathering, we split, each going her way. I usually walk back home, through town, and Beirut at dusk is at its loveliest. The temperature is cool, the light is soft and demure, and the people are all heading home (I am always reminded of this Christmas song, with goes ‘As the shoppers rush home with their treasures’.) , or to some other place to gather with family or friends. It’s this medieval feeling, of people getting back to the town, draw bridge goes up, gates close, and we’re safe and snug tight for the night.

 

Here are your 'shoppers heading home with their treasures' What I found so endearing is that the two gentlemen on the right (in blue turbans, so not Lebanese. My guess either migrant workers from Asia, or Unifil soldiers on leave from the south) re holding hands. In Europe this wold have a different connotations. Here it's just friends.

As I was walking, I saw all these lovely people in front of me, and felt like a regular Vivian Maier, and kept taking pictures. It’s been like two years since I have actually held a real camera; my phone does the job quite well.  So here you are, some scenes from Beirut on a Friday at dusk. 
And my apogees for the over-processed images. You can't see too well on a small phone screen.

These guys are obviously not going home yet. Your male version of the 'sitat el-Ashrafiyeh'