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By Schams Elwazer, Director Adjust font size:
    Wednesday 8 a.m. ... I wake up with a start. The phone's ringing. I check my watch; no, I'm not late... our shoot with Elie isn't until noon and I had hoped to sleep in a bit. When my mental fog lifts I recognize the voice of Elie's presswoman, Zena: "Have you looked outside?" I pull away the curtains and it's pouring rain... And I'm talking about Beirut's legendary persistent autumn rain. It may be the Middle East but this small country is no desert -- it's mountainous, green, and wet. "Can we postpone the filming?" she asks. I try to stay optimistic but I know today's our only chance. A big news day is coming up -- the release of the UN report on who killed former Lebanese PM Rafik Hariri -- and the whole CNN bureau is on standby to start 24-hour coverage. No we can't postpone it -- it's now or never. Fingers crossed. Midday ... It's still cloudy and drizzling but little slivers of sunshine give me hope that the day will improve. Cameraman Christian Streib and I head over to Elie Saab's sleek new headquarters near downtown Beirut. It's my first visit to this location... I think about the first time I met Elie two years ago in his mountain summer home where we looked over the building designs while he explained his vision for these new headquarters - minimalist. At the time, we were shooting a profile of him for the debut show of CNN's "Inside the Middle East." It's very cool to actually see the drawings come to life. The place is spacious, elegant and simple. I start checking out some stunning little black dresses on display, realizing I can neither afford nor fit into them. We're whisked to the top floor and Elie greets us with a warm smile, looking stylish of course. I become self-conscious: I should have put more thought into my outfit before meeting a top fashion designer. After the welcome coffee, there's the obligatory talk of the tense political situation of the day. That's the thing about Beirut -- EVERYBODY is politically aware... every cab driver, grocery clerk, banker or artist you meet knows what's happening in the news and is quick to share their analysis, be it an upcoming U.N. Security Council meeting or President Bush's latest Mideast policy statement or the latest local parliament session. Politics is a way of life here -- and with the upheavals the city has seen in past nine months, it's understandable that everyone's plugged into the news 24/7. 12.30 p.m. ... Elie's excited about the idea of doing The Scene... but being a soft-spoken man of few words, he's clearly not looking forward to a whole day of chatting away on camera. I try to reassure him but realize he'll probably want to kill me by the end of the day with all the interviewing we plan to do. But first: what will HE wear? Black shirt? White? After a few minutes of consultations with our crew and a few of his own people, he settles on a simple beige shirt with jeans. I take a peek outside. Still raining. 1 p.m. ... We start shooting in his office. There are mirrors everywhere and a long dark glass-covered conference table -- it's impossible to keep our reflections out of the shot and Christian summarily kicks everyone out of the room. We then go down to the throbbing heart of the building and the business... the sewing area... wide open space with dozens of people hand-sewing gold, green, scarlet, silver, and blue beads and sequins onto rich colorful materials -- half-finished drop-dead gorgeous gowns hanging on mannequins everywhere. I'm practically drooling. All around, there are mannequins with names of famous singers, actresses, politicians's wives, and Gulf princesses who have commissioned dresses. There's an unspoken agreement that we won't focus on the mannequins that are... let's say "not slim." 1.30 p.m. ... The weather's starting to clear up so we're ready to take our chances shooting outside -- but Lebanese hospitality overcomes a tight shooting schedule... Elie insists that he brings us lunch first. So we're served hot sandwiches and drinks ordered from an American-style diner and we take a little break. 2 p.m. ... We hop into Elie's black Mercedes and he starts driving. The weather's clearing up and the city looks fresh after the rain. Although downtown Beirut has been completely reconstructed, in the rest of the city it's impossible not to notice the scars of the 15-year civil war. It's an odd contrast -- seeing building after building still riddled with bullet-holes yet everywhere high-rise buildings are sprouting and construction cranes crowd the skyline. We head to the Corniche, the sea road, and Elie tells us it's his favorite place to drive around. The road is lined with palm trees and swish hotels. There are always people walking, jogging, fishing, or sitting on plastic chairs sipping coffee blaring their car radios. The Corniche is one of the few places where you see all walks of Beiruti life mingling as different crowds merge in and out of each other. We stop at a spot overlooking the "Raouche," a large rock jutting out of the water that has a little archway at the bottom - it's called "Pigeon Rocks" in English although I've certainly never seen any birds there. It's Beirut's best-known natural landmark and I've overheard many a conversation where someone would be told to "go jump off the Raouche" but I don't see how anyone can scale that rockside. I notice the sun is finally out. 2.45 p.m. ... Back in the car, heading to downtown Beirut. It's his favorite part of town. Elie needs a break from the filming -- he's been talking on-cam for hours (he's fluent in both Arabic and French but still struggles a bit with English). So we turn off the camera and enjoy the drive. He says he loves the city but prefers being in the mountains, preferring to stay home with family and friends rather than going out to Beirut's countless restaurants, bars, cafes, and clubs. 3 p.m. ... Downtown Beirut. This was the old frontline of the civil war, a no-man's wasteland that's been reconstructed into a swanky pedestrian area full of upscale shops and cafes. Lanterns hang from the archways and promenades. It could be Paris, but the flavor is distinctly Beirut. The area is commonly known by the name of the company that rebuilt it -- Solidere. It's one of the few places in the city where we need authorization to film and some uniformed mustached guards are quick to approach asking for our permits -- it's quickly resolved. The streets and restaurants are emptier than usual, probably because it's Ramadan -- the holy month when Muslims fast from dawn to dusk -- but that doesn't stop people from coming out of their shops to look at Elie, whispering excitedly and pointing. We've been chatting so casually all day that the sudden attention is a jolting reminder that this quiet man is a top celebrity -- one of Lebanon's favorite sons. He's clearly uncomfortable with the extra attention but is friendly to everyone who approaches him. He says he loves this part of town and sees it as a symbol of cosmopolitan Beirut, post-war Beirut, prosperous Beirut, the Beirut of the future. I look around me and think it is indeed beautiful, but perhaps lacking a bit in soul. Although the streets are often packed, look up and you notice that many of the buildings are uninhabited. It's prime real estate and not everyone can afford to set up shop here. Time for another coffee ... 4 p.m. ... The Glass Cafe. It's 75 years old and a Beirut institution. Open 24 hours a day, it's located in what's become one of the city's trendiest neighborhoods, Jemmayzeh -- full of narrow streets lined with endless little cafes and bars. I notice a new cafe has opened up across the street and am trying to remember what was there before when I catch a whiff of the apple-flavored tobacco wafting from a hubbly bubbly water pipe coming out of the Glass Cafe... and for the first time, I feel like I'm really in the Middle East. Beirut is such a melange of cultures and traditions that it can sometimes seem more European than Arab -- but the smell of Turkish coffee and fruit tobacco is unmistakably Middle Eastern. I rush in to get the manager's blessing before we start filming and it takes the star-struck waitress a full minute to take her eyes off Elie, place her jaw back in its correct position, and nod that it's ok for us to proceed. Elie orders a hubbly bubbly for himself and start puffing away, looking more relaxed and laughing more easily, knowing that we're almost done shooting. There's a group of men at a table next to us playing backgammon, slapping down the round playing pieces and cheering when they get a good dice roll. I'm worried about it being too loud but Christian says we're fine. 5 p.m. ... We wrap up shooting, all have a final cup of coffee, and they drop us off back at the CNN bureau. Out of the world of glitzy glamour, high fashion, and Hollywood ... and back to the world of news. |
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