Homing in on Beirut’s Pigeon Rocks

Beirut's Pigeon Rocks

I finally got up close and peppy with one of Beirut’s most recognized landmarks – the Pigeon Rocks.

It’s funny how you can live in a city for years and miss certain notable sights.

I have seen the Pigeon Rocks flying into Beirut from the airplane window, from the Sporting Club beach where I used to and still go swimming, from going past by car. But I never stood right opposite them on the Beirut Corniche to value their size and natural splendor.

To say the truth, my recent three-month stint in Beirut allowed me to go places that were almost out of bounds for me and nearly everyone else when I lived and worked in the city during the civil war. It was unthinkable for instance to stroll on the Corniche in the late Seventies, Eighties and early Nineties.  

The Corniche reminds me of the Croisette in Cannes

Situated off the coast in the Raouche neighborhood of the Lebanese capital, the area overlooking the Pigeon Rocks reminds me of the Croisette in Cannes. It gives on the shimmering Mediterranean and is surrounded on both sides by a view of the mountains, their peaks covered by snow in winter. It is a favorite outing for ramblers, joggers and street cart vendors selling different produce in season. And Raouche is dotted with cafés and restaurants looking out on the Rocks.

Raouche is on the Western-most tip of Lebanon. I presume it is a transliteration of “roche,” the French word for rock. It extends the Corniche that encircles the Beirut cape -- from the St. George bay to the north, all the way to Ouzai.

I hadn’t planned to go to the Corniche on Sunday, but happened to be going past, and couldn’t resist a leisurely walk to get a closer look at the Pigeon Rocks. And what better way to enjoy the scenery than with a good cup of coffee and a bite?

A swimmer all the way up the Rock

My cousin Lillian and I sat at the Bay Rock terrace to enjoy the view and the pleasant weather. (You can join us in pictures here.) The only sad sight is of the filthy water, covered by rubbish and foaming hugging the Rocks. Still, that didn’t stop small motorboats from circling and a few swimmers climbing all the way up to show off and win the appreciation of friends and passersby.

All those sitting at the café were as taken in by the view of the blue sea, the Rocks and the peaks of Mount Lebanon rising to the left. Every now and then an airplane would fly past, and you could just imagine passengers looking out of their windows and thinking, “We’re nearly home.”

There is always a sense of life and energy in Beirut, in whatever area you happen to be, and nowhere more so than on the Corniche’s seaside promenade.

A mezze of hindbeh (dandalion)...

... and fattoush

Sitting at Raouche, enjoying the mezze and Sunday lunch of rice and mutton, I continued to watch the vibrancy of Beirut, a city with a 5,000-year-old past. 

It so happened I was reading Amin Maalouf’s “The Crusades through Arab Eyes.” Berytus’ power and glory were destroyed by a triple catastrophe of earthquake, tidal wave and fire in 551 A.D. In 1110, Beirut fell to the Crusaders until 1291, when the Mamlukes conquered it.

The famous Lebanese author, who was elected to join the prestigious French Academy in June, writes about the fall of Beirut on page 80:

The Franj [as the Crusaders are referred to in the book] selected Beirut as their second target. Lying next to the Lebanese mountains, the city was ringed by pine forests, in particular in the suburbs of Mazrat al-‘Arab and Ra’s al-Nabah. There the invaders would find the wood they needed to construct the instruments of siege. Beirut had none of the splendor of Tripoli, and its modest villas could not easily be compared to the Roman palaces whose marble ruins were still scattered across the grounds of ancient Berytus. But because of its port, it was a relatively prosperous city, situated on the rocky slope where, according to tradition, St George had slain the dragon. Coveted by the Damascenes, held negligently by the Egyptians, Beirut finally had to confront the Franj on its own, beginning in February 1110. Its five thousand inhabitants fought with an ardor born of despair as they destroyed the siege towers one after another. “Never before or since did the Franj face such a harsh battle,” [chronicler of the time] Ibn al-Qalanisi exclaimed. The invaders were unforgiving. On 13 May, when the city was taken, they threw themselves into a blind massacre. To set an example.

So many questions about the Pigeon Rocks...

While reading my book and sipping coffee, I wondered what the Pigeon Rocks must have looked like at the time… When were they formed? Did they exist at the time of the Crusades and how big were they?


More pictures of the Pigeon Rock outing here.

Beirut: Walking to the beachfront

A postcard of the black and white Lighthouse as it was in 1942

Although I am spoiled for sun and some heavenly swimming pools and beach spots in Dubai, I still couldn’t wait to walk down to Beirut’s beachfront last week and pay homage to the Mediterranean.

The Mediterranean has been a part of my life since childhood. I missed it immeasurably during the 20-odd years I spent in London. The closest I got to the sea then was the River Thames, which I could pick out from my balcony in Chelsea’s Cheyne Place.

The Lighthouse now dwarfed by construction

I was curious to view what Wikipedia writes about this magical sea. It describes the Mediterranean as one “around which some of the most ancient human civilizations were arranged. it has had a major influence on the history and ways of life of these cultures. It provided a way of trade, colonization and war, and was the basis of life (via fishing and gathering other seafood) for numerous communities throughout the ages.”

I grew up near the Mediterranean in Tunisia and my mom, Vicky, always sent us to the beach to swim, absorb Vitamin D (the sun vitamin) and bury ourselves in the warm sand for added winter protection. Nothing changed much when we relocated to Beirut. Even during the civil war, I hardly stopped going to the beach on an almost daily basis throughout the year. That’s why being far from the Mediterranean was one of the most difficult aspects of my years in London.

The Mediterranean is green, often infested with jellyfish, but I still found its waters fresh and salty and invigorating. Luckily, it is within walking distance from where I am currently staying in Beirut and so I made my way down to the Corniche, Beirut’s waterfront boulevard, from Sadat Street in Hamra (see "Beirut: Walking in Hamra" post, Nov. 12). It’s downhill all the way and Beirut is enjoying an unusually hot November. But the route is strewn with new buildings -- so much so the city’s first land Lighthouse is hardly visible anymore.

Possibly built in the 1940s and originally run by the Shebil family, this 24-meter high Lighthouse is a landmark with its black and white horizontal bands. It outlasted colonial rule and the civil war, but has been beaten and drowned by the construction boom in the Lebanese capital.

A new automated Lighthouse replaced it at sea level when it ended its working life in 2003. The new automated 52-meter Lighthouse beams every 10 seconds and an Israeli air raid damaged its lantern and top in July 2006.

Rides at Beirut's Luna Park

Strolling down to the coastline, I caught my first glimpse of the glimmering sea. But before getting there, I popped in to Madinat al-Malahi, Beirut’s Luna Park. The Ferris wheel looked smaller and the rides too, but their magic was still there and not lost on the many children enjoying the Sunday morning fun.

Further along the Corniche, sellers were preparing for the Sunday rush for falafel and ice cream. Down the road, the Permanent Chinese Exhibition store, where you find everything and anything, is already well stocked for Christmas.

The glimmering Mediterranean

I finally got to the rocky beach where I have been a habitué since god knows when. As soon as I paid the entrance fee of LL 22,000 (or $14.66), I felt I was back to my natural habitat. The place has hardly changed over the years and I was ecstatic to meet familiar faces and friends I hadn’t seen in 20 years.

I first treated myself to a morning coffee (LL 4,000 or $ 2.65) to kick start the day. Once I felt I was in my surroundings, I ordered my preferred Lebanese beer – Almaza (LL 5,000 or $3.33) -- which came with a little bag of peanuts.

It was exhilarating to reconnect with the cool waters of the Mediterranean, its color, its taste and its temperate waves. Fishermen were all around, migrating birds winging by and planes flying overhead to Rafic Hariri Airport.

The planes passing overhead reminded me that I would be flying back home to Dubai before long. I hurriedly dispelled the thought to continue enjoying my holiday in Beirut, especially that my sister Asma joined me last week.

Keep your walking shoes on! I will take you around the Armenian neighborhood of Burj Hammoud and the southern port city of Sidon next.

(Click here to see the pictures of the walk down to the beachfront)