Drink the Sea: Twenty Years of Walking and Falling in Beirut

Abstract

ABSTRACT In this autobiographical essay, I examine the layers of solace and disruption I experienced in 20 years of walking in Beirut, and also falling all over the city. I explore how my regular walks on the sea-front corniche calmed my anxiety and soothed my spirit, while at the same time Beirut’s broken pavements, unlit streets, and exposed manholes skinned, sprained, twisted, and bloodied my body over and over again. As the situation deteriorated episodically through wars, neglect, and corruption, especially after the 4 August 2020 explosion, walking became an act of witnessing; it enabled the curation of a mental-visual archive contrasting my memories of the city with the catalogue of ills it revealed. In a Beirut hit by pandemic, economic crisis, and political deadlock, I eventually restricted my walks to daylight hours, often literally walking in small circles, as the city plunged into darkness and insecurity. Despite my frequent falls, and the dangers of a pedestrian life in Beirut, walking remained a source of great consolation and wonder: a daily ritual of erasing and remaking the city through stories and moments, disappointments and discoveries.