Tuesday, July 11, 2006

You're Welcome

After getting up reasonably early and conducting a roach hunt (none, thankfully), I caught a cab to Haret Hreik, one of Beirut’s southern suburbs. The plan was to make it to Hizbullah’s information centre and to meet the party’s media director, Hussein Rahal. I had been told that I would need to apply for an interview.

The journey to the centre showed the differences in Beirut's appearance. Virtually every apartment block appears to be in a different state of repair (or disrepair, I should say). Some are brand new. Some are refurbished. Most are pockmarked by artillery fire. And a fair few are skeletal remnants, standing proud from a bed of rubble. The Corniche seafront road took me past several luxury hotels before I wound up in dusty, claustrophobic Haret Hreik.

The first job was to find al-Manar TV, Hizbullah’s television channel. Hussein had told me the Hizbullah information office was nearby. The guy at the al-Manar desk gave me directions to the information centre, but after 10 minutes of searching, I was no nearer to finding it. I blundered into a supermarket, and bought a Coke to cool down. I was getting flustered at being so lost, and the blaring car horns didn't help my mood. After calling Hussein again, he eventually sent someone out to find me. I could imagine him saying to his assistant: “There’s a confused Brit in a green T-shirt waiting outside al-Manar. He should brush up on his Arabic.”

Even when I was rescued, I was confused by the amount of twists and turns we made to get to the press office. On my own, I would never have found it. The information centre was inside a dilapidated office block. Up to the second floor, and through some double doors – where everything looked much shinier. I was ushered into a waiting room, where bearded Imams looked down from the wall.

A kind looking woman walked in, and handed me an application form to fill out over a cup of coffee. She took a photocopy of my passport, and I submitted my questions. I should hear back from them in a couple of days, all being well.

Finding my way back was easier. I finally got a taxi after three attempts - this one was a ‘servicee’. These cabs carry up to four passengers, usually all going to different destinations along the same route. A pretty good way to observe Beirutis, and only 5000 Lebanese pounds to get back to my base - a quarter of what it cost to get to Haret Hraik. Forget private taxi runs in future! “Rue Hamra where?” said the driver as we sped along the Corniche. “Hotel Napoli, please.” He looked confused. Think, Andy… what’s on Rue Hamra? “Starbucks?” I asked.

“Ah, Starbucks, yes! No problem. You’re welcome.” Beirutis like making people feel welcome. Now I’m just typing this up over another coffee. I’ve just called Robert Fisk again, and it’s likely that the interview will go ahead this afternoon, either at his favourite restaurant Spaghetteria, or his house. Fingers crossed.

No comments: