Manara palace

I want to be in Manara Palace where the waves land at my feet. Stretch my legs, lean back and inhale the mediterranean with the musky scents of the 'arguileh'. Sit on the plastic chair that keeps moving until you stuff a cardboard under its leg. Shoo the flies and the harassing polaroid man who insits it's the most romantic picture ever, wehyehtik ya demoiselle! Watch the fishermen and count the fish. Gaze at Beirut's hideous sardine buildings on one side, the lighthouse that shines on their apartments (but does not enlighten them) on another side, and then, the sea and more of the sea..
Turkish coffee, cinnamon tea, coconut icecream.
Cursing and politics, hand in hand.
A waiter emptying an ashtray into another ashtray (they've mastered the technique and put up a great show)
A symphony of cell phone tunes drowned by the crashing of waves- 'Allooo, eh hayeteh, shouuu...'
Pas de francais and not much english; in Manara Palace, it is indeed arabic that you hear.
Ohhhh, I want to be there long enough to savor these moments!!