Sea bathing in the Bay of Saint-André, in Medawar, in the early 1920s. (Credit: Georges Boustany collection/Colorization by Youssef Berjaoui.)
This is a place where Beirut feels like a mother, opening her arms to protect her children. Nestled in a bay facing north and surrounded by cliffs, the sea here is sheltered from the dominant currents. For millennia, sand carried by the Nile has gently settled on this shore. Yet this magical spot, just a short walk from downtown Beirut and Achrafieh — is doomed. Soon, it will exist only in this photograph.In the mornings, Beirutis tend to their daily obligations; by afternoon, they escape to the seaside. Could life be any simpler? In the early 1920s, time seemed to stand still on this forgotten beach. The water is shallow, the air filled with scattered laughter and the scent of seaweed resting on brown sand — the unmistakable beginning of summer. Occasionally, a metallic clang breaks through the quiet, announcing the passage of a train...
This is a place where Beirut feels like a mother, opening her arms to protect her children. Nestled in a bay facing north and surrounded by cliffs, the sea here is sheltered from the dominant currents. For millennia, sand carried by the Nile has gently settled on this shore. Yet this magical spot, just a short walk from downtown Beirut and Achrafieh — is doomed. Soon, it will exist only in this photograph.In the mornings, Beirutis tend to their daily obligations; by afternoon, they escape to the seaside. Could life be any simpler? In the early 1920s, time seemed to stand still on this forgotten beach. The water is shallow, the air filled with scattered laughter and the scent of seaweed resting on brown sand — the unmistakable beginning of summer. Occasionally, a metallic clang breaks through the quiet, announcing the passage of a...