Along the Raoche of Beirut, where the Mediterranean ebbs and flows, ridding the air of the day's humidity, a similar scene comes into view. Men and women, after a long day at work, come by the coffee houses and restaurants to relish the comfort of the pipe. Conversation is quiet yet profound, while the sensation of the narghilah encompasses all. The narghilah is the ticket to the passage of comfort. In the midst of these ever-expanding Arab cities, it becomes a temporary release from troubles and worries, or a stage for discussion and thought.
Buildings rise, modern technology hums and machinery pumps away in building after building.
Data circuits, replete with computer signals, light up every which way. And yet, the narghilah remains, as it was hundreds of years ago, the stoic and simple reminder of the possibilities of comfort, enjoyment and serenity. Hopefully, all parties will participate in the next round of peace talks, and beside them, there will be a few narghilahs. Leila Elias holds a master's degree in Middle East and Islamic studies from the University of Toronto. She resides in South Whitehall Township and wrote this column upon her return from a visit to Syria and Lebanon.