Beirutista: Then and Now

When I launched my blog Beirutista some 14 years ago, in the summer of 2012, I wasn’t exactly certain what the focal point would be. Sure, most of my articles featured candid and thorough reviews of eateries and holes-in-the-wall I’d discovered on my prowls through my new surroundings (I'd settled in Lebanon just the year before). I loved dishing out spotlights of lesser-known food spots or profiles of up-and-coming chefs. I could wax poetic about a cocktail prepared with finesse, or a pizza pie descended from the heavens.

And while my taste buds were enjoying a culinary adventure of their own, I was also interested in the artist crafting his or her art. I’m a storyteller. I’ve always been a storyteller, even when I was pursuing a mechanical engineering degree in undergrad and grad school. I doubled down on honors humanities and social sciences to temper my technical studies and add a layer of communicative skills to what I do. You’re only as relatable as your words, written or oral, and I strived to be relatable. Personable. Sociable. In my mind, that was the way to leave a lasting impression.

Savoring a pistachio pastry in Rome (2014)

And perhaps that is why I thrived at blogging on hospitality. Not because I was a food writer or a former chef de jure. I was a self-appointed journalist de facto, and I naturally gravitated toward the food scene. As a newly arrived expat in Lebanon whose daytime job was nestled in the heart of Beirut, it was easy to explore the constantly morphing culinary capital after work. Wherever I went, I unearthed excellent eats. The real gratification for me, however, was meeting the creators, learning about their craft and how they got to where they are. That’s where the juice was. And I longed to capture it in words, the way Anthony Bourdain had done so effortlessly and eloquently in No Reservations and Parts Unknown. 

Things changed markedly toward the end of 2019 and throughout 2020. Lebanon’s banking and financial sectors collapsed, and coupled with the spread of covid-19 and lockdowns, the hospitality scene was all but decimated. I was in California for a 14-month stretch, growing my little family and not yet able to grasp where the pieces would fall, especially vis-à-vis Beirutista. When I returned to Beirut in 2021, everything once familiar to me had vanished, and the blogosphere was not only bleak but effectively irrelevant. At a time when the country had plunged into poverty, hunger, and displacement, who had the nerve or callousness to talk about food and restaurants?

Time passed, and while Beirut started to rebuild and venture capitalists reset their sights on the country’s potential, I struggled to find meaning in the new landscape around me. I could never be an “influencer” or “content creator,” as the two terms tend to reference social media profiles who create visual stories and thus appeal to wider audiences. Creating reels, editing videos, soliciting marketers, seeking compensation for manicured reviews – that was never on my agenda. I was but a writer equipped with the word as her main instrument of communication. I couldn’t compete, nor did I want to. Because those who know and identify with my writing under the pen name Beirutista understand my mandate to be genuine, relatable, frank. 

And so these days you won’t find much of me at media events, or red carpet premiers, or restaurant openings. I likely won’t be summoned to hotel grand re-openings, or product unveilings. I’ve been ghosted by brands that once hung on to my every word and consulted me for menu fine-tuning. I’ve been ghosted by folks I thought were friends after years and years of what I thought were unshakeable professional and personal ties. 

Perhaps it is I who is at fault for not evolving and adapting to the trendy ways people now consume content. I’m not on TikTok. I'm not consistent about publishing stories or posts. You might see a reel from me on occasion, but I’m not stellar at producing those. And perhaps this is why my follower count on Instagram has frozen at roughly 7k for more than ten years. 

This isn’t meant to be a despondent piece tugging at the reader’s heartstrings, nor do I pretend to knock on nostalgia’s door. This is me doing what I do best: self-reflecting, introspecting, and recalibrating. Writing will always define my life, even if I’ve strayed from blogging as a somewhat obsolete art. Blogging was never the end game; it was, in fact, the means, or the channel, through which I aspired to express myself and improve my craft while reaching like-minded readers. It was meant to serve as a steppingstone to something more permanent, long-term, timeless.

I can always be found self-reflecting and introspecting. It's what I do best.

I recently received a call from an old acquaintance who was interested in inviting me to an event but wondered whether I was still active in blogging and media. I fumbled for words as I admitted I’d become less active but still had my foot in the door. I know I can’t hold a candle to the pages and accounts that enjoy hundreds of thousands of followers and viewers. But then again, when was that ever my mission? 

If you’ve been reading me since day one, I am eternally grateful for your support. And if you’re new here, I hope you enjoy browsing the hundreds of articles freely at your disposal. I can't promise a steady frequency of new articles, but I will continue to blog whenever inspiration strikes.

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