No beer at the Sheik’s house

We’re in no shape to show up at Sheik Fadlallah’s restaurant after our long morning at the camp.  We’re covered in dust,  more than a little dismayed and needing to emotionally download what we’ve witnessed.  Lebanon is a study in contrasts, a fact I think we’ll be constanly reminded as we tour this country.  If you check out Fadlallah on Wikipedia, you’ll see mention of his ties to Hezbollah, notes on assassination attempts, information on his orphanages, schools and a lot on his relationship to Iran.  You won’t see mention of his restaurant which is a massive, well appointed dining room with an inner courtyard filled with flowers, a fountain and a number of upscale tourist shops. Here you can buy faux Chanel bags or a Sheik keychain.   If I lived in Beirut, I’d consider this place a perfect venue for a wedding reception or birthday party.  We have not yet learned the words for “no appetizer” in Arabic but need to sooner rather than later.  Our translator Rawan orders for us, which is hardly necessary because all of the Sheik’s waiters speak English or at least a smattering of French.  We’re afforded comic relief when Kathy perks up like a new little kitten with her favorite meow, “I’ll have an Almaza!”  Sorry, no beer at the sheik’s house Kathy.

Leave a Reply