I spent most of my life living between two tunnels: the Nahr El Kalb tunnel to the South and Chekka tunnel to the North. For those of you who know Lebanon well, that's a really small part of the country. During the Lebanese Civil War, these tunnels were symbolic landmarks as they separated the Christian region from the Muslim region which were then controlled by militias. Crossing them would have only meant death! There was unfortunately no light at the end of the tunnel!

The war ended in 1990 but its psychological effect lingered. Christians didn't dare going to Muslim areas and vice-versa. Things haven't changed much since then; The fear of "the other" and the historical grievances are still ingrained in many of us and resurface at every occasion.
When the war ended, my family and I spent an entire summer going on trips to the regions that were previously inaccessible. We went to Zahle, Baalbeck, Anjar, Beiteddine and Deir El Amar in celebration of the permanent truce. Unfortunately, as soon as summer ended, we were again bounded by the two tunnels! Unlike me, my father wasn't an adventurer... I still don't know where I got this trait from.
In 2010, I took a job that required me to travel across the country, which meant that I had to cross the tunnels... This is how I discovered Tripoli. The city was just like me, full of contrast! It was love at first sight!

I fell for its narrow and crowded old souks as well as for its modern commercial streets. I bought fabrics from Khan El Khiyateen (tailor market), copper trays from Souk El Nahaseen (copper market), locally-made organic soap from Khan El Saboun (soap market), jewelry from the Gold souk and I shopped at leading fashion stores in shop-lined Azmi street.

I fell for its delicious food and unparalleled culinary experience; I had mouthwatering traditional breakfasts at Danoun, Akra and Abou Rami, I tried every restaurant in the chic neighborhood of Dam w Farz and I indulged in its heavenly sweets and pastries. I ate traditional Kaak after the Iftar during Ramadan and dared to taste the signature "Moghrabieh" sandwich.

I fell for its rich history and culture; I climbed to the top of Saint Gilles Citadel and enjoyed the breathtaking view of the city. I visited the Mansouri mosque that was built around the remains of a Crusader church and is a testament to the city's diversity. I had a Turkish bath at one of the many historical Hammams that bear witness to the Ottoman era. I strolled along the port in Mina, and watched the sunset with the fishermen, I scraped my knee while sneaking in the wrecked train station that is still closed to visitors...

I fell for its incredible resilience; I explored the underprivileged neighborhoods of Bab El Tebbaneh, Jabal Mohsen and Mankoubin. I inspected the buildings covered with bullet holes from the recent conflict, I talked to people who still believed in peaceful coexistence and a common future. I watched kids play in muddy makeshift soccer fields similar to those in Brazilian favelas but who sadly will never be noticed and become professional soccer players. I met people who despite their marginalization and poverty were still hopeful and generous.

I finally fell for its amazing people; I met old-time writers and social thinkers who still gather at one of the oldest cafés in the city. They recounted the beautiful history of Tripoli and engaged in nostalgia recalling the "good old days". I also met wonderful and extremely dynamic young people who haven't lost hope and genuinely believed in their city. People who are championing change and who have faith that there will be light at the end of the tunnel!