Living on nostalgia - Christelle El Daher
"Nobody does nostalgia better than the Lebanese, because contrary to its definition we don't long for it, we live it. Manouche and Bonus, biscuit and raha, sobhiye and coffee, trucks and popular sayings, Wadih El Safi and oud, Fairuz and Baalbek festivals, El Sabbouha and Bhamdoun, Sursocks and lavish parties, Beirut and architecture, Saint Goerges and A-listers. resorts and bikinis, Casino du Liban and beauty pageants, Cinema Royal and date nights, Hamra and nightlife.. even the ailing Lebanese Pound form an integral part of our daily conversations. We still yearn to the long-gone days when the lira was an international currency and kenet tehke had purchasing power)
"We, Lebanese expats and residents, take solace and willingly live in a postcard embellished by the silver threads and pearly beads of nostalgia.. and after all why wouldn't we? Our past is multifaceted and complex. It is idealistic, endearing, loving, and simple. On the other hand, it is rich, fashionable, colorful and lively.
We take solace in waking up on a Sunday morning to the smell of fresh out of the oven thyme-flavored Manouche (flatbread) served with labneh, tomatoes, black olives and Rocca. A sight to behold that evokes many childhood memories. As kids, our royal breakfast was never complete without our beloved triangle shaped juice - that is somehow more acid than sweet - and the cigarette smell that accompanied our fathers' weekend morning routine. Sunday also meant long morning gatherings punctuated by intense gossiping between our mothers, grandmothers and neighbors. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee served with Ghandour biscuit and raha, a delicacy covered in thick white powder, made the stiffest of tongues come loose.
We take solace in the rhythms of the Rahbani Brothers and the angelic voice of Fairuz. A time machine in its own right, their musicals transport us to the glorious nights of Baalbek and Beit El Din where the crowds cheered to a utopian Lebanon. A homeland portrayed as a village nestled in the mountains, held together by strong communal bonds and charming nature, and embodied by the voice of a Lebanese Marianne in her white dress.
We take solace in the gilded years where the watchwords were social gatherings and parties. The Pearl of the Middle-East had everything to rival the City of Light. Home to an illustrious aristocratic family, Sursock Palace played host to the most ostentatious parties. Prominent politicians, artists and intellectuals gathered in the hills of Achrafieh to take part in these select events. All invitees dressed up to the nines. The only thing more fashion forward was El Sabouha and her lavish, heavily sequin and sparkly dresses. She never wore an outfit twice. Remembered as a senior figure of women empowerment in the Arab world and celebrated for promoting Lebanese Dabke abroad, she was the reason the rich and famous Arab monarchs and businessmen summered in the towns of Sawfar, Alay and Bhamdoun to catch her performing at Casino Piscine Aley.
We take solace in Beirut's Hotel Saint Georges, where life seemed easy under the radiant sun. Women laid down in their bikinis on stunning shores while me played volleyball on beautiful beaches. A picturesque location whose charm even attracted the most secretive of people. Renowned as a hive of espionage, the hotel's bar was the meeting point for spies. No wonder that Beirut was a backdrop for the 1974 James Bond movie. Nevertheless, it is a shame that the movie didn't show Casino du Liban. The first of its kind in the Middle-East, this institution hosted major events throughout its history, such as international and local beauty pageants, galas, balls, receptions, and concerts. For a while, the world descended on the bay of Jounieh to spend unforgettable nights.
We live among the relics of an opulent past, a shell of our former selves just like the lost cinemas of Beirut. We are scared by destruction and craving revival. A good example would be the Hamra Street, once the glamor center and the bastion of progressive thinking, which is nowadavs reduced to a semi-fashionable nightlife destination.
At some point, we need to ask ourselves about the price of living in this color fading postcard. At what cost are we still holding on to nostalgia?"