Missing Libya I

Part 1 : Tripoli

I’m sitting on a wooden balcony overlooking a forest of misty eucalyptus and pine in central Portugal. It’s quiet, peaceful, and soothingly green. Quite different from the country I’m conjuring up to write a love letter too: Libya. Beyond the horrors of what Libya is enduring currently, is a place of extraordinary beauty: epic Saharan desert, magnificent Roman and Greek archaeological ruins, a never-ending Mediterranean coastline and a fascinating people. This is the Libya I want to remember. This is the first of a five-part homage to Libya, based loosely on five itineraries. I put together these itineraries when I specialised in travel to the country for eight years from 2004 – 2011. They showcase the highlights - and the Libya that I knew.

A long weekend in Libya was a popular itinerary for good reason – Libya can be reached from London in just three and a half hours by plane. That’s about the same time as it is from London to Newcastle by train. This allows you two and a half full days in North Africa giving you just enough time to explore the capital Tripoli and the great cities of Leptis Magna and Sabratha.

I’ve always liked Tripoli - from the moment I arrived in the city with my friend Rachel on a hot summer’s day in 2004. Prime Minister Tony Blair had just visited with much fanfare to hold ‘historic talks’ with Gaddafi ending three decades of isolation with the west; Libya was coming in from the cold. As a result, we presumed that we’d be the focus of attention – more so because we were two young blond western women. We were quite wrong. The reception couldn’t have been more ‘laissez-faire’ which delighted us, and we spent our first week living in the old medina getting lost, quite often at night, groping our way through pitch-black alleyways as power cuts were frequent. The old medina is small and no Marrakech or Fez, but that’s what makes it so charming; you could meander your way through the streets without being run down by a cart or donkey, and you weren’t in the least bit harassed; tourists had yet to sully the soil. My favourite alley was the blacksmiths one where artisans hammered out copper crescents for mosques a short distance from the white clock tower in its pretty cobbled square. The sunken Roman Arch of Marcus Aurelius looks out to sea and the picturesque Athar restaurant near to it was the place to enjoy camel stew in a clay pot, - close to Gurgi Mosque with its beautiful lapis and gold tilework framing a little green door.

You could sample a bit of everything in Tripoli, dipping a toe into the Roman empire through the Ottoman era up until the Italian colonisation. The city was originally founded in the 7th century BC by the Phoenicians and called Oea. Situated between the other great landmarks of Sabratha to the east and Leptis Magna to the west, Oea survived being buried in the sands of time and was renamed Tripoli in the 9th century.

Libyans love their coffee and before you hit the streets on your first morning, there is a place insiders know, just a short distance from Martyrs Square (formally Green Square). It’s a tiny coffee bar - a two-meter long tiled surface with a couple of long bar stools in front of it only open in the morning. On the corner of a busy street, it’s recognisable by a gaggle of morning commuters, and a frenzy of delirious wasps buzzing over great trays of freshly made baryoush - croissant dripping in honey. Harried businessmen stand around gulping espresso and swatting the wasps away whilst yelling into their mobiles before heading to work. The coffee and baryoush is a leftover legacy from Italian colonisation and it’s a good one. Interestingly a Reuters article dated 19 April 2019 states that ‘the breakfast choice has become part of the language of the conflict’ since the fall of Gaddafi in 2011:

‘What you have for breakfast has come to symbolize the divisions in Libya where regions, tribes, armed groups and towns with different traditions have been vying for power since Muammar Gaddafi was toppled in 2011…. The capital’s urban elites love a pastry called “baryoush”… The cosmopolitan crowd looks down on the bean dish called “fasouliyah”, favored by easterners.’*

After an almighty sugar and caffeine hit, you’re ready to bounce around the city sights. Staying on the south side of Martyrs square you can wander the smart boutique-lined streets, pick up an excellent map or guidebook in Ferghani’s bookshop and marvel at the fascinating collection of stamps at the main post office. The Italian post office was opened in 1859 and many present-day residents still collect their mail from one of the stacked rows of metal boxes inside the building. On my wall is a collection of stamps depicting scenes of ‘American Aggression’. They detail Gaddafi as hero during the 1986 US bombing of Libya which destroyed his Tripoli compound, killing his adoptive daughter Hana. Only recently, records have come to light to reveal that Hana is alive.

Diving back into the medina, lunch must be taken at Abiya restaurant – it’s a tiny upstairs room above an alleyway with only five tables. The fish soup, octopus salad and squid couscous are legendary and it’s a short stroll away from the Zumit Hotel, carefully restored from a 19th-century caravanserai. I would spend the afternoon browsing the enormous African market on the edge of medina where you can haggle with merchants from Mali and Chad, and pick up anything from Tuareg drums to a pair of fake Nike trainers.
A short drive from the centre is a stretch of seashore that comes alive in the evenings with makeshift restaurants. Pick your fish to be grilled and eat under the stars before returning to the Zumit for a puff on a shisha pipe and then bed.

*Beans or brioche: breakfast is divisive in Libyan conflict Reuters May 3rd 2019

For more on Libya, you can hear my piece for Broadcasting House: How Libya Broke my Heart HERE

Views over Tripoli by Amelia

'American aggression' stamp collection by Amelia