Hammra street, Beirut

Back in 2003 a month before the War in Iraq, I traveled to Lebanon by Car, of course those days it was safe to travel through the Western Anbar province, I arrived at the Syrian Lebanese borders very late at night and because I’m an Iraqi I had to wait for an interrogation by the Lebanese Intelligence Officer, now the Reason I’m mentioning it right now is to give people who have no Idea what Lebanon is and how routes and towns, villages are so near one another the Officer asked me “can you see the American forces gathering from the hill tops of Baghdad?” my answer was “well…first of all Baghdad is totally flat, second they are gathering hundreds of kilometers away, so the answer to your question is No I can’t see them” with a smirk “Sir” the Gentleman let me go through and one hour later I was in the middle of lovely yet delicate Beirut I stayed at a hotel in Hammra street for a month and each morning I would wake up at Six on the sound of the newspaper boys getting ready to distribute the morning papers, I would walk throughout Hammra street past the Starbuck café and towards Sadat street intersection, there is this nice bakery that makes different kinds of lovely and fresh “Manakesh”, I would later wander throughout the streets and sideways and watch the buildings watching the old buildings and the scars on them and how plants managed to fill in the gaps of these scars, I would go the Antouin Book store and walk to the American university of Beirut, I would sit in one of the Cafes in front of it and watch the young people studying for an Exam while drinking Espressos and eating doughnuts.
In the evenings I would stroll towards the Rawshee rock and watch the sunset. Sit on the benches At ain al mreaysee with my back towards the Hard Rock Café and watch the fishermen and in some cases you could see a full rainbow starting in the Mediterranean and ending in the Mountains I used to carry my own ashtray because I was ashamed to get the sidewalks dirty, you could watch ships come and go in the night and that heavy reminder of the civil war the Holiday Inn at the San George where battles were fought between the militias to control it until they eventually destroyed it before it was even open.
At night I would Daily go to Bar Bar sandwich bar near the Piccadilly intersection with Hammra Street & get myself a Gyro.

I envied their freedom. I hated their sectarian divisions & weak government.

How terrible I feel today, that lovely country going down the drain, …Strike two.