Hotels occupy a peculiar place in the mythology of cities. Name a major metropolitan and a hotel quickly follows: The Savoy in London. The Plaza in New York. The Crillon in Paris. The Burj Al Arab in Dubai. For decades, Beirut had the Phoenicia. Then, in 2009, a small boutique hotel called Le Gray came for its crown.
It arrived just as the city felt briefly renewed. Le Gray drew a new generation of movers and shakers, and landed – as did the rest of the city – on must-visit lists across the global travel press. The hotel sits opposite Martyrs’ Square, alongside the Annahar building, City Hall and the redeveloped downtown – an address that placed it at the centre of events as much as of glamour. Beirut, once again, felt open for business.
But permanence has never been Lebanon’s strong suit. The energy of the early 2010s slowly gave way to a succession of overlapping crises.
The 2015 protests over the rubbish crisis filled Martyrs’ Square. By 2019, a full-blown revolution turned the area into an intermittent battleground. Then came August 2020, and the blast that shut the property for good – or so it seemed.
Until late November, when Le Gray began its quiet return to life.
When I visited, parts of the hotel were still unopened. The gradual reopening mirrors the national mood: a country edging cautiously towards optimism after years of compounding trauma. Yet, the atmosphere was unmistakable. Residents and returning expats – like me – gathered to reconnect, lingered over meals, reminiscing about long nights on the rooftop a decade ago.
Lovingly restored under the artistic direction of architect Galal Mahmoud, the hotel is polished enough to claim its place in The Leading Hotels of the World collection. In Beirut, where hotels often run below capacity outside peak season, food is essential to keeping the lights on year-round. It’s fortunate, then, that the revival is anchored by the return of Alan Geaam, the Lebanese chef who helms his eponymous Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris.
Geaam’s years in Paris have shaped two distinct restaurant concepts. Padam, street-facing and full of movement, lets Beirut’s chaos rush past as French technique meets Mediterranean flair. Qasti, an indoor-outdoor space, brings that same Michelin pedigree back home, confidently reworking Lebanese cuisine.
From the lobby, a dramatic central atrium rises through the building, drawing guests up towards the rooms. On the first floor, an art gallery occupies the space, part of the hotel’s commitment to the Lebanese and regional art scene. More than 600 works are displayed throughout.
Like much in Beirut today, it is tempting to see Le Gray as a symbol – perhaps even a promise. Maybe that’s over-reading a handsome hotel with good food, thoughtful art and beautifully restored rooms – but cities are rebuilt in increments. From shawarma stands to luxury hotels, and returning Lebanese families to the Gulf visitors occupying the rooms upstairs, each small act of presence matters.
These glimmers of hope add up to something larger than a hotel. They add up to a city returning to life.
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