Qanater Zbeydi: a hidden gem at the outskirts of Beirut
Hazmieh is one of those beautiful suburbs of Beirut with a dominant European-like influence and a calmness that invariably surprises the ignorant visitor. Perched at the top of high hills and surrounded by unexpectedly steep slopes, the town coquettishly rises above the Lebanese capital, continually checking the vast horizon of the Mediterranean. By some twist of providence, it has escaped the touch of Lebanon’s self-catastrophic quality, offering a mellow and welcoming ambience instead. The streets are lined up with trees, bougainvillaea, and well-preserved buildings, the patios are dotted with cute cafes, and the chirping of the birds is often louder than the motors of the passing cars.
However, few people know that the river valley that separates Hazmieh from its neighbouring Mansourieh hides a precious relic from the past: a Roman Aqueduct known as Qanater Zbeydi. The road that leads through the ancient arches has been turned into a pedestrian path, and at twilight, one is often overtaken by the occasional jogger or is prompted to nod a silent hello to the promenading families.
The aqueduct dates back to 273 AD. It was constructed during the reign of Emperor Aurelius and possibly gets its name from Queen Zenobia of Palmyra, who might have financed the project. The channel apparently transferred water from the nearest spring, Daychounieh, across the Beirut River over to Beirut, to cover the city’s increased needs in clean water dictated not only by the ongoing urban expansion but also the public baths, the fountains, and the extravagant use of water in the villas.
Today, only a few of the arches remain standing, while the rest of the construction has crumbled away into the wadi. The road, towered on one side by the imposing slope, was – to my surprise – decorated with colourful bougainvillaea plotted in regular intervals, indicating that the promenade is much more preserved and protected than what a first glance might suggest. At the last turn, the path leads to a narrow bridge formed by a modern dam that connects the slopes. The overpass used to act as a shortcut to the nearby hospital before its access was finally blocked – and for a good reason, considering its limited width. Standing in its middle, though, surrounded by the serenity of the upcoming nightfall and the gorge’s depth, I enjoyed simmering for a while in the creek’s giggling whisper that, over the centuries, had licked the stones away into flat and polished surfaces.
Such gems remain hidden throughout Lebanon, for they lie far away from the standard touristic routes, while the country has not yet managed to excavate, study, protect, and promote its precious inheritance. I consider myself lucky that I had the chance to explore this nook, and I look forward to the other surprises Lebanon still hides for me in its sleeves.
Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou
