Breakfast in Sidon

Sidon's Qalaa or Sea Castle

What do you do on a Sunday morning in Beirut? Well, in my case this week, I was driven down south to the port city of Sidon for breakfast!

With my friend Jennifer Haddad behind the wheel, we set off around 9.30 a.m. Her colleagues, Rabih Wehbe and Mariam Seif el Dine, drove in front of us. Bahia Allouche, a native of Sidon who volunteered to serve as our tolerant guide, joined us in the seaside city.

The approximately 40-kilometer (25 mile) drive south took only 20 minutes without the weekday traffic madness. The highway all the way south hugs the coastal road and banana groves typical of the region. We passed by Shoueifat, Damour, Tiyeh and Rmeileh before arriving at Lebanon’s third largest city.

Sidon, or Saida in Arabic -- which means fishery -- has been inhabited since 4000 BC and is one of the most important Phoenician cities and perhaps the oldest.

The Baha'eddeen Mosque

The Baha’eddeen Mosque, built by the late prime minister Rafic Hariri and named after his father, greets you at the city entry with its 36-meter-high dome. It is a modern take on Turkish Ottoman mosques and can be seen from all around Sidon.

We headed straight to the seaside promenade, lined with cafés and restaurants, for a traditional Sidon breakfast. This consists of all kinds of hummus (chickpeas) dishes. Among them: fatteh (chickpeas with yogurt, fried bread, fried pine nuts, garlic and oil), hummus balila (chickpeas with lemon juice, garlic and spices), hummus mshawsheh (chickpeas with tahina or sesame paste, lemon juice, garlic and spices). We had our fill of hummus varieties and fresh Arabic bread, olives, tomatoes, salad and pickles… The whole breakfast, followed by tea, came to LL 30,000 ($20).

A traditional Sidon breakfast

While waiting for our delicious meal to be served, I couldn’t help hopping around to take pictures. It was my first visit to the city that takes its name from the first-born of Canaan, the grandson of Noah and is mentioned in the Bible at Genesis 10:15, 19. When I last lived in Beirut during the civil war, it was difficult to get to move from one street to the next, let alone around the country.

I crossed the street to take pictures of the famous Qalaa or Sea Castle (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidon_Sea_Castle), built by the Crusaders in the early 13th century. The fortress is right next to the port. It also sits opposite Al Qalaa Hotel, one of Sidon’s two hotels, which takes its name from it. The second, Hotel Yacoub, is in the middle of the city, close to the old souks and opposite St. Elias Cathedral.

Sidon was already bustling with pushcart street vendors selling all kinds of goods, and the cafés were bustling with people also out for shopping, breakfast, arguileh or sheesha (hubble bubble) or just wandering around in the beautiful warm weather of November this year.

The alleyways of the old souks

After enjoying our breakfast, the five of us decided to walk it off and explore Sidon. We headed to the old souks, dating from the Mamlouk era, and first passed by the traditional maze of narrow alleyways lined on both sides with tiny shops and kiosks selling fruits, vegetables, spices, meat, chicken and everything imaginable. Luckily, Bahia was able to guide us through the maze of alleyways, until we reached Bab El-Serail. It is a central square where many events in Sidon take place, especially during the Moslem fasting month of Ramadan. Beautiful little streets lead from the Serail back to the seafront and the port. All around the square, the buildings have been restored, as have the streets of the old souks.

Rabih, Jennifer, Mariam and Bahia in Khan El-Franj

The winding alleys took us to Khan El-Franj -- the Caravanserail of the French -- that was built by Emir Fakhreddeen in the 17th century to house French merchants and goods. The imposing walls and arched entrance lead into a large courtyard surrounded by covered galleries.

We walked along the Sidon Corniche, crowded with families strolling along, children riding horses, fishers about to head out to sea and boats preparing to ferry people to the nearby islands.

We also visited the Fish Market where fresh fish is sold by bidding every morning. By then, there wasn’t a lot left, but the fishermen were still proud to show us their catch, especially the flying fish which they explained is dried and offered as a good omen to ladies who miscarry.

Sidon is a city of vast contrasts between the beautifully restored souks and the more popular and run-down area. It feels vibrant and bustling and can boast of so many different specialties, like hummus, fish, falafel, carpentry, soap, perfumes and two Arabic pastries: ghraybeh and sanioura…

It was all too soon past 1 p.m. and Jennifer and I still had to go up to the mountains, to my mom Vicky’s village of Ain Anoub and Bshamoun (see Bahibak ya Libnan post, November 22).

 

Thank you Jennifer, Rabih, Mariam and Bahia for such a lovely day and for your patience while following me around while clicking my camera in all places.

You can join us on our walk around Sidon here.

My sidewalk cafés

Going up the stairs of Café des Nattes

Given the choice, I could spend all-day sitting in a sidewalk café, which the francophone prefer to call “café trottoire.”

What makes a city, town or village habitable, to my mind, is its cafés. My belief goes as far back as I can remember. Maybe because I grew up in a sidewalk café, a trademark of the Mediterranean way of living... The right sidewalk café can become a sanctuary where you can sit and drink, eat, think, read, write, chat, meet people and watch the world go by. What else would you want?

Café des Nattes in Sidi Bou Said

When I lived in Tunisia, the idyllic place to be and be seen was the little hilltop village of Sidi Bou Said, some 60 kms out of the capital, Tunis. Tunisia was then the tourism country par excellence. Summer festivals and concerts played at the Carthage amphitheater were renowned. And it is at Sidi Bou, as it is fondly called, that everyone congregated past the afternoon siesta until the wee morning hours.

I took up my first summer job in Sidi Bou at the age of 12, helping out in a boutique. My dad used to drive me there and then pick me up at 10 p.m. On our way home, we would stop in one of the village's small alleyways, where an enterprising baker had set up a coal oven and baked taboun bread, which he sold with a newspaper cone of black olives. I was too young to go out alone at night and had to beg my sister and brother to take me along. That didn't happen often, but when it did, the fun and excitement were thrilling.

Sniffing jasmine..,

When I grew up and started to move around without a chaperone, it was up to Sidi Bou that I went every afternoon. We lived 10 minutes away, and I would walk there to sit at the famous Café des Nattes. It is at the top of the village with stairs where nattes, or mats, were left dangling on both sides. That's where you gathered to be seen and watch people go by. I used to spend all my summer holidays sitting there, sipping mint tea with pine nuts -- aux pignons – and sniffing jasmine. I was so much part of the Café des Nattes that I was pictured there next to the entrance and figured on Sidi Bou Said postcards. Tourists who bought them would come up to me and point it out. I have some of them somewhere and this blog would be more colorful if and when I unearth my trove of pictures.

I think sidewalk cafés were the Twitter and Facebook of times gone by – times when we gathered, met new people, exchanged dreams and ideas, lazed about or listened to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Johnny Halliday, Edit Piaf, Jacques Brel...

I wonder if it is still the same... I went back to Tunisia in the 1990s, but didn't have time to soak up the atmosphere in the café where I grew up.

In Beirut, I missed my cafés during the civil war because no one risked sitting outdoors. All public places were closed shut most of the time anyway.

But when I relocated to London and settled just off Kings Road in Chelsea, I quickly spotted my sidewalk café of choice. It is called Picasso (and you now know my love for anything related to the great Master!). It is one of the oldest establishments on Kings Road and did not change since it opened. Until of late, the owners’ premise was that "if it isn't broken, why fix it?"

Picasso on the Kings Road

The friendly Italian, Polish and Portuguese staff, all led by Signor Modesto -- who managed the café for some 50 years starting in 1956 -- became friends. I passed by every evening after work to unwind, catch up and savor a cappuccino.

While waiting to migrate (yet again) to Dubai, I wasn't working and spent even more time at Picasso. I went for breakfast -- a cappuccino with toast and Marmite -- and skim through the morning newspapers. I came back in the afternoons, mostly to touch base with the “regulars” -- Roger, Ian, Ramzi, French Peter, Sibel (who introduced me to my favorite author Orhan Pamuk) and several others. Everyone knew us and nodded their greetings whether patrons or passersby. They always expected to see us there.

Picasso was the favorite spot for past and present football stars, chiefly the incomparable George Best, who passed away in 2005. Marianne Faithful, Gary Waldhorn (of the Vicar of Dibley fame), Seal, Eric Clapton (who lived close by), Bono and Jay Kay of Jamiroquai with his funny hats all came to Picasso. Bob Geldof passed by daily for a coffee and tricolore salad when in town. Gordon Ramsay was there at least once a week, on his own or with his son (you can read his review here). And in 2004, Woody Allen used Picasso to shoot a scene for his London-based movie Match Point.

There was never a dull moment at Picasso, and it is one of the few places in London that I miss. But I am told it is now being renovated, so I dread to hear what they will do to it.

With Lynn (@lnlne) at Café Younes in February

When I finally went back to Beirut late last year, a café was the first thing I looked for. At first, I opted for Bread Republic in a small alley along Hamra Street. But on my second visit, I shifted to Café Younes, which quickly became home away from home. I would settle there with my laptop most evenings and rapidly be joined by several friends and tweeps. There is no shortage of sidewalk cafés in Beirut, but Younes suits me just fine.

And it is the sidewalk café that I miss most in Dubai. The weather doesn't help, as between May to October you can't really sit outdoors. A coffee shop in a mall is no match. So I haven't found my niche yet. So is it time to move on? I wonder...