SAWA CAFE
Sodeco – Achrafieh Street Beirut, Lebanon 01 337 090 / 03 084 588
I had a hankering for some halloumi, so I set out in search of an acceptable cafe in which to sit and contemplate the following: Why do Lebanese taxi drivers ask “Taxi?” after you’ve already gotten into the Taxi cab? Is there another reason I am getting into a strange man’s car, marked “Taxi”? Is prostitution the other option? I hoped not. At least they did not seem disappointed when I answered, “Yes, Taxi.” So as I was wondering, wandering, on foot, down a side alley off Istiqlal Street, I saw with increasing frequency signs for “Sawa Cafe.” Though I am skeptical of salespeople, I am a sucker for witty and / or persistent advertising, and what these signs lacked in cleverness, they made up for in tenacity. I decided after about three signs that I must give Sawa a chance – after all, they earned it. Such diligence in sign-posting, and not for naught!
On sight, Sawa cafe looked like a pleasant place to spend the evening pondering the Taxi “options” question. I ordered lime juice with mint, no sugar, to which the server did not react, except in the most natural and professional order-taking manner. If he was startled, he did not show it. No looks of consternation, no inquiries re sugar allergies. Mint limeade with no sugar? Coming right up! Next, I ordered the halloumi sandwich. Another classic lebanese quick eat; I figured I couldn’t go wrong.
But that’s how it always happens. Just when you think that things couldn’t be better, that life is as it should be – disaster strikes, and you, with your silly expectations, couldn’t be less prepared for it. The restaurant temperature suddenly dropped to Arctic levels, and I knew had to get out of there before frostbite beset my fragile, exposed toes . The only thought in my head, “It’s so f#@*! cold, it’s so f#@*! cold, it’s so f#@*! cold,” incessant and loud, left little room for anything else, much less the critical thinking required to unravel the Taxi conundrum. I had to take my halloum and run.
I should have recognized the plunge in temperature as a harbinger of the catastrophe still to come. For when I retrieved the halloum sandwich from its hot, soggy wrapping, it looked like it a Hurricane Katrina victim who narrowly escaped the Lower Ninth Ward. It was drenched in the juice of the black olives and mushy tomatoes that lined the dense baguette. (Leave aside for the moment the fact that they put halloum in this crappy baguette, or any baguette, instead of Lebanese bread). I couldn’t bear to look at it. When I returned to my apartment, I considered whether it could be saved. But it’s no use wringing out a soaked baguette, now is it? I had some Lebanese bread in the cupboard, but the halloum was covered in disgusting olive concentrate, and in the end, could not be salvaged. Like the Bush Administration to New Orleans, I callously abandoned it. A photo seemed inappropriate.
The lime mint juice showed signs of more extreme weather patterns. It came in a plastic bottle, almost entirely frozen. I had to employ some knife-jabbing at a breakneck speed to catalyze the liquification of the juice block. When the icy substance finally dissolved, it made for a refreshing drink, though a bit too minty. By that time, of course, I was starving and exhausted from all of the energy I had expended to mitigate the effects of this blizzard/hurricane combo created by Sawa.
Mysterious, indeed.
One mystery solved: Taxis offer a “taxi” option and a “service” option, and that is why drives ask “Taxi?” after you’ve already entered the vehicle. ”Taxi” means that you have exclusive use of the cab, and the driver can’t pick up any other passengers during your trip. You pay LBP 10,000 automatically. ”Service” means that the driver can pick up additional passengers, and will charge you according to the length of your trip, usually LBP 2,000 – 4,000 for short distances within central Beirut (i.e. ~ 10 minutes ride).
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