What more does one need for a tale of intrigue and desire than a sly German archeologist and the sublime bust of an ancient queen?

Egypt has been pestering Germany for years to return the 3,400-year-old bust of Queen Nefertiti. As with many battles over artifacts and history, this one, which crossed deserts, borders and seas, is unresolved. But a recently discovered 1924 paper suggests that cunning and sleight of hand cost Egypt one of its masterpieces.

The existence of the document, reported by the German magazine Der Spiegel, indicates that German archeologist Ludwig Borchardt disguised the bust of the woman with stellar makeup, perfect lips and a headdress that was all the rage in the time of the pyramids.

Egypt’s Al Ahram Weekly picked up on the story, reporting that Borchardt had covered the artwork “with a layer of gypsum to ensure that the committee charged with supervising the distribution of new discoveries between Egypt and foreign mission would not see how beautiful the bust was or realize that it was actually made of exquisitely painted limestone.”

 
Check out “how deceit won a beautiful woman” and decades worth of hard feelings between two nations.

-- Jeffrey Fleishman in Cairo

Photo: Queen Nefertiti. Credit: Al Ahram Weekly 

“Look within your culture to discover the unexpected. What it might be hiding from you can give you a shock.”

That is how designer Rana Salam ended a talk about her book of undergarments, “The Secret Life of Syrian Lingerie," at American University of Beirut.

"Secret Life" takes readers on a tour of the hidden intimacies and gaudy traditions of an outwardly rather conservative Arab country.

Men were humming verses from the Koran, gently moving their heads back and forth. Others were murmuring prayers while fumbling with strands of beads to keep count. The scene in Cairo's metro, on my first ride to the office here, was revelatory of the wave of religious fervor that Egypt has known in the last few years.   

The contrast with an Egyptian movie from the 1970s I had seen in Beirut last week was staggering. The film featured women wearing miniskirts and dancing disco extravagantly. It was set at a time when the society in Cairo was embracing modernity and opening up to the West.

But witnessing the crowds of veiled women and bearded men on the metro, that permissive, open Cairo seems a distant recollection. In fact, Cairo does not resemble at all that idyllic image of the glamorous glitzy city we, in the rest of the Arab world, have repeatedly seen on our movie and TV screens.

Another stunning aspect was the characteristic bruise on the forehead of many men here. These marks are supposedly formed by the repeated contact between the forehead and the floor during prayers. These prayer bumps have become like fashion statements and are derisively referred to as "Zebiba," the Arabic word for a raisin.

—Raed Rafei in Cairo

Photo: Man reading the Koran. Credit: AFP

The advertising on the dry cleaner's window said much about the conflicted identity of this nation where winged gods and glorious battles of ancient Persian kings are balanced against ayatollahs and an Islamic revolution that nearly 30 years ago brought morality police and martyrs.

Before the mullahs took charge in 1979, the dry cleaner was named Persepolis, the capital of the Persian Empire. That had the whiff of nationalism and the dry cleaner suddenly became the namesake of a revered cleric. The window today is an unreconciled collage where the names of Persepolis and the cleric coexist above a painting of spear tips and Achaemenian warriors.

There are few avenues for defiance in this Shiite Muslim nation, but one of them is in the past, where the emblems, folklore and images of old Persia mingle in quiet protest against the mullahs. The pre-Islamic era is alive in jewelry, architecture, decals, books, videos and websites that feature Cyrus the Great and gold-horned bulls.

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—Jeffrey Fleishman in Tehran

Photo: A Worker walks by statues inspired by Persepolis that are part of the gate to the Dariush Hotel on the tourist island of Kish. The modern hotel resembles Persepolis, Iran's best-known relic of ancient Persia. Credit: Vahid Salemi / Associated Press

Five years ago this week, looters ransacked the Iraqi National Museum, stealing centuries-old artifacts that celebrated Iraq's role as the cradle of civilization. Some headlines at the time exaggerated the size of the damage, erroneously reporting 170,000 items missing. Investigators later discovered that some important artifacts, including gold jewelry from Nimrud, had been hidden at Iraq's Central Bank since the Persian Gulf War in 1991.

Today, investigators say that about 15,000 pieces were either stolen in the wake of the U.S.-led invasion in March 2003 or went unaccounted for in the months and years before the conflict began. About half have been recovered. But the impact of the thefts -- amulets, Assyrian ivories, sculpture heads, ritual vessels and cylinder seals -- is still being felt in art circles and black markets throughout the world.

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— Johanna Neuman in Washington

Photo: Objects recovered by the police in Baghdad as of June 2004 included more than 2,000 clay tablets with cuneiform inscriptions. Credit: Micah Garen / Four Corners Media

On my routine commute from my home in West Beirut to the Los Angeles Times' bureau in the eastern part of the city, I pass through what was once the Lebanese capital's highly dangerous green line.

The area was a no-man's land, a battle line that split the city between the Christian-inhabited East and the Sunni-dominated West during the civil war between 1975 and 1990.

In the morning bustle, that bloody episode is almost imperceptible in that part of the city. That is, except for one in-your-face building that still stands as a reminder of how savagely the Lebanese  fought each other for 15 years.

In the relatively calm district of Karada in Baghdad, stands a lone building severely contrasting with its downtrodden surroundings.

In a city that has and continues to witness countless bombings on a daily basis, it is hard to imagine how a multi-story window-clad building such as this one (right) would be able to withstand the daily onslaught of shock waves from explosions.

This is the shape of things to come in Baghdad — once the daily violence becomes something of the past.

The four-story building, which houses a bank, is old but has been completely refurbished with glazed, composite and granite cladding.

Driving through Baghdad, people will notice several buildings that have been given a makeover using similar materials. But some have sustained damage as a result of the aforementioned explosions, while others have been abandoned halfway through construction. Others are completed but uninhabited by the businesses that have been repelled because of lack of investment in post-war Iraq, left to wither in the harsh Iraqi climate.

Depending on the situation, it could be in the very near future that Baghdad's commercial districts witness the blooming of such modern-looking phenomena. For now these buildings, seen sporadically across Baghdad, remain testimonies to what the city could have been.

— Said Rifai in Baghdad

Photo credit: Said Rifai

The runway featured low-cut silky gowns and red chiffons, but also a flurry of glittery embroidered fabrics, so typical of the Middle East.

And in the audience, of course, were men in traditional white dishdashas, typical of the Persian Gulf venue.

At the Abu Dhabi International Fashion Week, taking place from March 15 to 18, Arab and Western designers blended trendy tendencies in cuts and colors with Arabian influences in the choice of styles and accessories.

Lebanon might not be these days at the forefront of glitz, glamour and glory. But its fashion designers can definitely compete with their Western peers on the world's most celebrated catwalks.

During the Academy Awards ceremony last month in Hollywood, Lebanese designer Georges Chakra shined on the red carpet through one of his creations: a strapless red satin gown with Swarovski crystal sleeves. The stunning tailor-made dress was worn by Oscar-winning actress Helen Mirren, a presenter at the ceremony.

Chakra has created designs for pop stars Beyonce and Carrie Underwood. His dresses also appeared in the hit movie "The Devil Wears Prada."

In 2002, another Lebanese designer, Elie Saab, caused a sensation at the Oscars when Halle Berry received the award for best actress wearing a burgundy floral embroidered gown he designed. 

A flurry of Lebanese fashion designers has made a successful entry into the world of haute couture in the last few decades. Many of them made a name in the fashion business by dressing wealthy women in the Persian Gulf.

— Raed Rafei in Beirut

Photo: Helen Mirren arrived at the Oscars last month in gown by Lebanese designer Georges Chakra. Credit: Chris Pizzello / Associated Press

In a high-end hotel in downtown Beirut, fearful of a new wave of assassinations, Lebanese lawmakers are holed up awaiting to complete a pivotal political mission, the election of a new president.

But many eyes in the Arab world these days are focused on another group confined to fancy digs. In an upscale villa atop a nearby mountain, a television show brings together the Arab world's hottest models and trendiest fashion designers to compete on a popular new reality television show called Mission Fashion.