Why Beirut, by far, has the best nightlife in the Middle East

The Lebanese capital does not have to work very hard to prove its reputation as the party capital of the middle east. It’s easy: the people are warm, friendly and know how to have fun. Make your way there soon

If I say the word Beirut, what’s the first thing that springs to mind? For me, it was music. I’d always heard the underground scene was great there. But I’d never visited; I didn’t know. Now that I’ve ticked it off my list, that word count has rocketed. It’s quirky; full of character, and a charming kind of dirty — in a lived-in sense.

All it takes is a little wander down one of Beirut’s streets to fall in love with this place. They’re potholed, narrow, and in the old parts especially, anything but straight. From the antique windowpanes to the colourful alleys, the ever-changing architecture is what keeps the eyes moving.

Old buildings, once brimming with life, don’t sit empty. They’ve been given a new lease of life by way of hipster coffee shop or gallery. They may be old, but they’re not forgotten.

You hear a lot of clichés about Beirut. Some call it the Paris of the Middle East, others, the balcony city. And it’s true. But although the word cliché depicts a lack of originality, Beirut is every bit original; variety is its very spice.

I visited Lebanon’s capital for my friend’s hen do (that would be bachelorette party for all the American-versed folk). If you’re not familiar, it’s like the last hurrah before marital bliss kicks in.

When I told friends and family my destination of choice, I was hit with the same phraseology by each and every one of them. “Beirut! For a hen do!?” The tone: confused.

For years, and still for many, Beirut is a place synonymous with war and suffering. But the reality today is quite the contrary.

Described as the party capital of the Middle East, if there is one city ever deserving of such a title, Beirut is it. I averaged about 12 hours of sleep over three days. The culprit: partying (when in Rome, as they say).

It’s been five days since my return and I’m still running on empty. So I guess that means we did something right. Right?!

Set against the backdrop of graffiti-clad walls, my location was Mar Mikhael; a residential neighbourhood cushioned between kooky watering holes and cool eateries.

And after my first 24 hours there, one thing stood out. The days were quiet, but the nights… that’s when Beirut came to life. It’s a city surrounded by mountains and gently nestled by the Mediterranean Sea. By day, the city feels unremittingly bohemian. But when the sun sets, Beirut spurts new life; it transitions from day to night like a man into a werewolf. It hits the nail on the head when it comes to keeping up its reputation as party capital. It oozes glamour albeit an undestated one, and vitality.

These people are all part of Beirut’s appeal. They want all who visit Beirut to feel that love; and fall in love. We were outsiders, strangers; yet you couldn’t tell

Prior to boarding my flight, I (hesitantly) packed heels for my trip. I don’t do heels. Thankfully they stayed untouched the whole weekend. Instead, my dancing shoes of choice — and the choice of most of those buzzing about the streets — was flats. What a grand idea, and what a relief.

Unlike the makeup clad ladies and preened-toperfection Lebanese expats in Dubai, no dress up is required in Beirut; and that all adds to its charm. It’s a casual party, and everyone is invited.

Tightly dotted along Armenia Street, you’ll find watering hole after watering hole terraced along the building fronts. The metre wide footpaths are pebbled with quaint tables; but that quaintness is offset by the traffic whizzing by. It’s so close you almost brush shoulders with the cars and mopeds snaking their way down the street. But no one is phased, it’s the norm here.

If you do make it to this part of town, be sure to leave all plans at the door. Schedules have no place here; and it’s the locals that taught me that. Figuring out which bar-front to hop to next was simple. In fact, it wasn’t a choice at all. The ushering arms of the people inside are your cue to enter. But they’re not pushy; make no qualms about that.

These people are all part of Beirut’s appeal. They’re more patriotic than most, and they want all who visit Beirut to feel that love; and fall in love. We were outsiders, strangers; yet you couldn’t tell.

When closing time did eventually hit (around 4am depending on who’s inside), I couldn’t help but feel energised; like there was something in the air. And that ever-changing architecture on the walk home, from Parisian balconies to garish pre-war modernist buildings, kept my eyes open, where matchsticks would usually be.

There is no debating that history dictates. And most cities live up to the images which frame their legend. London for its recognisable landmarks; Paris for its eclectic mix of celestial architecture; and Rio, forever tied to its beautiful people and lively carnivals.

Yet Beirut in 2017 shouldn’t be approached with fear. Tones shouldn’t be left confused when you name it as your destination of choice. It’s not the ’90s anymore. This is a city packed with culture, art, and party people, but it is precisely that scar tissue left behind from years gone by that makes Beirut stand tall today.