This magazine has been ten years in the making. Normally they take four months, so it has been cooking for rather longer than usual. I lived in Lebanon during the war, ten years ago, and I wanted to get across what Beirut meant to me and what people had been through during 17 years of war. What it felt like to have a bullet ricochet off your house, to have to drive at night with no headlights in case you were spotted and shot at; to feel yourself heaving a sigh of relief when the flat next door was bombed instead of yours. But also what it is like now that the war is over: the magic of being able to drive to places that you have never seen before even though they are only a few hundred yards away, the immense relief at walking the streets without fear, and sadly, people's gradual disillusionment as high hopes of peace turn to disappointment.

Returning again this year it was the little things that were so irritating. For example, getting in touch with people for personal or professional reasons is a nightmare. The phones still only work randomly, so making appointments to see potential writers is a tricky business. First, try and ring from the hotel. Then give up, take an (expensive) taxi through town - on one occasion getting lost on the way because the taxi-driver had, like me, not crossed the 'Green Line' dividing Beirut before and didn't know his way around the East side of the city - find the office, climb the stairs, ask in halting Arabic for the right person, leave a note because they are out saying that you will be back at 3 pm in the hope that they will be there (because no-one knows where they are), get back in taxi, drive back to the hotel, try phoning a few other people, no luck, go back to the first person by taxi at 3 pm, find no-one in, leave another note... It is amazing that this magazine ever happened!

My determination that it should probably has its roots in an incident in 1985 that I cannot forget. A ceasefire had been announced in Sidon after several weeks of siege. We had to get to Beirut urgently and decided to risk the drive even though we weren't sure that the snipers on the hills above the sea had decided to stop shooting. Grim-faced and white-knuckled, I was sure that this time we would get it wrong. I felt sick. Looking at me, my Lebanese friend laughed. 'Don't worry, you'll be telling this story back in England.' She was right. We got to Beirut, and here I am, writing about it ten years later. She is still there, struggling with the difficulties of life after war.

Selling the peace
How different is peace from war? Nikki van der Gaag returns to Beirut ten years on.

Beirut-ancient city of the future
A visual extravaganza.

When machine-guns become umbrellas
The psychological damage inflicted by the war goes deeper than the physical. Elizabeth Suzanne Kassab explains how.

Smart patches, shame about the coat
Kamal Hamdan looks at the problems brought by peace.

Mr Fixit
Maria Spiers interviews the man trying to rehouse 90,000 war-displaced families.

BEIRUT - THE FACTS

No place like home
Palestinians in Lebanon have been given a raw deal. Nikki van der Gaag wonders about their future.

We need war
Where have all the militiamen gone? Chris Martin finds out what has happened to one of them.

Simply -
a brief history of Beirut and Lebanon

Difficult days for the Party of God
Hizbollah, or the Islamic 'Party of God', is gaining support. Darius Bazargan investigates.

Milk, honey and muck
Environmental problems have been ignored throughout the war. Mohammed Khawlie reports on the clean-up.

Letters
Letter from Lagos
Update
Reviews: plus Patti Smith classic
Curiosities
Endpiece: by Charles Arthur
Country profile: Cambodia

FRONT COVER PHOTO OF MARTYRS' SQUARE, BEIRUT: BY CHRIS STOWERS / PANOS PICTURES
MAGAZINE DESIGNED BY CLAIRE PALMER
ONLINE MAG MAINTAINED BY SIMON LOFFLER