Don’t wear a fucking kaffiyah. Thanks.
Beirut inherits, and then destroys, the meek. It’s the last Levantine city: a place that, for all its chaos, still tolerates its tolerant spaces. The city has much to offer, but it exacts its price, too. It’s a concrete jungle. It can be too hot and humid in the summer, and too dreary and chilly—especially indoors, as perverse as that sounds—in the winter. Once you get over its charming chaos—if you’re the sort of person who sees the charm in chaos to begin with—the average day is a siege of the soul. At its best, Beirut will liberate and exhilarate. At its worst, it’ll push you to the brink of decency, fuel your hedonistic impulses, and ensnare you in escapism.
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