From Mexico to Beirut

50th post

2012-02-11T23:57:00.001-08:00

From Mexico to Beirut is celebrating its 50th post!
And in doing so, I write this blog post in memory of Withney Houston. May she Rest In Peace.

Not my Beirut

2012-02-11T23:55:00.000-08:00

An image speaks more than a 1,000 words.
When I was walking last night and saw this image, I confirmed it.

The image shows a billboard on the side of the street, with the plans and sketches of a new and modern appartment building that is being built on a street in Mar Mikhael. This is a very cool area, full of old-style shops, buildings and restaurants. But older buildings are being slowly replaced by newer ones as the area gets gentrified.

What I liked about the image was the desperate move of a pedestrian who, seeing that his/her neighborhood is getting a "face lift" (like everything/everyone else in this city), took out a permanent marker and voiced his/her protest with a "Not my Beirut" scribble.

I liked this because I think it depicts, first, a very clear trend in this city to get rid of old, many times historically significant buildings, to replace them by some modern, stale and pseudo european looking constructions. Second, this image depicts two sides of society that I have encountered in my 18 months in Lebanon. There are the people who want to hide, facelift or upgrade Beirut. And there are the others, which this urban protester probably belongs to, who celebrate, cherish and try to preserve their heritage.

I wonder if after the horrors of a civil war (and forgive me for this very broad and generalizing assessment), one would want to forget the past, erase it, pretend it didn't happen to make it hurt a little less. In this context this modernization impulse would be more of a denial or self-healing mechanism, depending on whom of the two abovementioned categories of Beirutis you ask.

But in this impulse of wanting to be modern, to erase what happened before, Beirut is loosing little by little its soul. Take a walk on the new Zeituna Bay (which, by the way used to be famous back in the day as a place to find prostitutes), and you will feel in Miami. You will be surrounded by Chanel and plastic surgery. And it will be soooo Beirut, that you will feel you are not in Beirut.

Does that make sense? Beirut is aiming at not being Beirut.

As an outisder, an observer, a passer-by, I just think this is a pity. This place has so much to offer as it is. I would take Bourj Hamoud 100 times over ABC. It is alive. And it is not trying to be something it is not.

Afraid of the unknown

2012-02-08T12:46:00.000-08:00

Being from Mexico City, I have always bragged about being "street smart" and knowing when an urban area is safe or scketchy.

In my mind, places are divided into 2 categories: safe places, meaning well-lit, clean and modern-ish looking, and sketchy places, with a dirty, dark or packed feel to them.

Sketchy places are to be avoided, because they are unsafe and God-knows-what can happen to you when you drive through them. Safe places are big avenues, where there is plenty of space to run in case of an emergency.

In a way, this is not entirely crazy, as criminality in Mexico City IS high, and the probability of being jumped in the street (knock on wood) is there.

When I moved to Lebanon, I brought myself along with my suitcase. And with me came all my ideas, opinions, and perceptions of the world; what I know to be true and untrue, right and wrong.

So, using my Mexico City standards, I started avoiding places like this one like the plague.

Jam-packed. Nowhere to go. No functioning street lights. Bullet holes on the walls.

Decaying buildings... And trash everywhere!

***

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine took me in her car through this street.
As a matter of fact it is near my office, and as it turns out, it takes me directly to where I live. She told me she goes though it all the time, as it helps her avoid the most congested streets and the crazy rush hour traffic. I was a bit nervous at first, but since I was not driving, I got a chance to pay closer attention to my surroundings.

And I was very surprised when I realized that we were going through an antique shop district!

Note: Pardon my photos, as they were taken from the car...

As I was saying, I start realizing that this is actually an amazing area. Can you see the gorgeous lamps in that store?

And those chandeliers back there?

Look at that gorgeous balcony up there!

Since that day, I take this road all the time, and sometimes hope the traffic won't move too fast so I get to see something new in the stores. And Beirut gave me yet another lesson: sheckty and safe are very restrictive in terms of what I allow myself to experience in Beirut (and in life).

This place is different, with different rules, and different standards. And I guess the only way to learn the new rules and experience this place is to step out of my comfort zone and allow myself to go to places that I normally wouldn't have gone to.

After all, Beirut has been pleasantly surprising so far... Why not be open to what it can offer?

Pyjamas in Beirut

2012-01-21T05:18:00.000-08:00

It is freezing in Lebanon. Like no kidding. Like gloves, scarve,hat, wool coat, warm socks, boots freezing cold. Like my house is not insulatedand I can really feel it (anjad!) cold.

Therefore, part of my very mundane activities this week waspyjamas shopping. Hey, the old T-shirt old leggings combo won't cut it in thisweather. I need something reallywarm so I do not feel like dying every morning when I get out of bed.

I did not plan to make of this activity anything, let aloneblogging material. My plan was to leave work, swing by the mall, spend 30minutes max in the pyjama store, go home. One hour and a half and 5 stores later, I left the mall emptyhanded. Confused. And exhausted.

It seems like I fall into a non-existent category of pyjamawearers in Beirut.

I do not (and will not) wear Disney pyjamas (who does?).Furthermore, I firmly believe that anyone older than 13 should NOT be allowedto wear ANY Disney piece of clothing. Not even Pyjamas.
I do not wear lace or satin to bed. Call me boring, but thatstuff is NOT comfortable. Seriously, do we have to care about fashion even when we are sleeping?
By the same token, name brands, glitter and studs have noplace in a Pyjama's top. The people who design those clearly didn't wear themto bed.
I do not wear dresses to bed. I know you call them nightgowns. It doesn't matter. That's a dress. And if you ever were unlucky enoughto have your grandma give you one for your birthday and had to wear it, andcursed every morning when you had it all curled up around your neck, you knowwhat I am talking about.
I do not like pastel colors. Sorry. Pastels are lame.Especially lilac. Now, buying a head to toe lilac outfit, with a feminine touchof satin on the sleeves? No, thanks.
I do not wear animal print to bed. Or inspirational quotes.And I don't drink coffee. So coffee mugs printed on my pyjamas are not relevantto me.

You might tell me that I am too demanding, or too peculiarwith my tastes. But I was only looking for a cotton, long-sleeve top and a pairof cotton pants!

Apparently simple is now what's hard to find. Or maybe I amjust not sophisticated enough for Beirut standards. Or maybe there was a newpyjamas memo that I never got.

In the meantime, I am stuck with my one pair of old, mildlywarm pyjamas to weather the cold nights in Beirut. Brrrrrrrrrr....

Christmas Kitsch

2012-01-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

Christmas was almost 3 weeks ago, but the spirit of Christmas is ALIVE in Beirut. I wonder if it is because the Lebanese like Christmas so much, or because they cannot muster the courage to actually take down all the Christmas decor.

You know, the Lebanese don't do anything half a@@. When I drive from work to the Christian side of town, this is the vue that welcomes me home:

The red light in the square offers this breath-taking homage to Christmas frenzy:

And let's not forget the red trees that decorate all the lamp posts in major avenues:

But my all time favorite-that actually makes me feel at home (because there is one exactly like this in the roundabout near my house in Mexico) is... the human-size nativity scene! With little lambs with fuzzy, petable backs!

There is something very sweet about this excessive holiday decoration (and the refusal to remove it). It's like Beirutis are saying that this season is really special and they don't want it to be over.

It is true that for Lebanese (Christian, but also from other religions) the end of the year means not only holidays, but also the time when their family and friends visit from abroad. And a Lebanese friend was telling me recently that as the majority of Lebanese are not Christian, this excessive-over-the- top and lavish Holiday display is in a way a demonstration of "Christian pride", like a way of saying "We are SO here."

I have really enjoyed walking around and seeing the Christmas decorations inside stores and businesses. For instance, there is this furniture shop near my house where the Nativity scene literally takes half of the workshop (they added caves and waterfalls for a more dramatic effect).

But the business who wins first price on my book of Christmas awesomeness is our friendly neighborhood butcher:

I mean, he leaves it on, even when he is closed. He didn't win my business, but he's definitelly won my heart.

Cultural awareness

2012-01-06T23:52:00.000-08:00

"Lebanese are so rude". "Lebanese are so aggressive". "Lebanese are so inconsiderate". These are only some of the statements that I hear often from both foreigners and Lebanese.

I don't know at what point I started actually believing in this. As you might remember, I was quite enchanted with the good qualities of the Lebanese for a while (especially their hospitality). But lately, I have found myself being very rude, aggressive and incosiderate in Lebanon. And to me, it was very interesting to see how differently I behave when I am abroad.

In Lebanon, I have started to be aggressive with people in the car and in the street. I have started saying unkind things to strangers when they cross me. I have started going through red lights, parking the car everywhere and rushing to get ahead of the line...

I have written before about how the environment affect me and how I have become more aggressive in Beirut. But there is a choice I haven't been making about my own behavior that became very apparent to me in 2 recent interactions.

I was recently visiting a friend's apartment who is out of town to feed his cats. I parked my car right at the entrance of the building, when the building's concierge came out and told me to move. There was something about the way he said it that occurred as very rude. In a second, I was livid, and ready to kick the guy's butt. The funny thing is that I didn't even understand what he said (he was speaking in Arabic). It was the way he moved his head, the way he looked at me, I don't know. I just found him very rude. So I told him something not very nice and drove off.

In another recent instance, I was driving up a crowded street and there was a soldier on a scooter driving towards me. I was in the right direction, he was driving against traffic. He told me to move. I interpreted his non-smiling face and hand gestures as "Get out of the way". I was livid in a second, and told him again a not very nice thing and drove off.

What do these 2 interactions teach me? Besides the fact of who is right, who is wrong, what the intention of the 2 guys was, what they intended to communicate... I realize how little time and patience I have left for people now. How quickly I just assume people are attacking me. How little I am willing to question my own shortcomings.

So, coming back to the statement "there is a choice I haven't been making about my own behaviour". I have realized that in Beirut I have given up my choice on how to behave, and I have started mimicking others and believing what we say about each other. I have given up the choice to believe that this place is good and that people are kind. I have forgotten that the only thing that has changed is my attitude towards the place (I can guarantee you that the Lebanese did not act differently the day I arrived to Beirut).

So, talking about New Year's resolutions... In 2012, I will treat people out of what I am committed to in life (love and respect) and not out of an impulse and a reaction on how I think they are behaving. I will behave as I want to behave, not as how I think my circumstances push me to. I will embrace my inner jerk and choose to bring something sweeter to the mix. And I will give people the benefit of the doubt.

This is not just an empty promise, but what I see as the great exercise of personal freedom in life. I am sure I'll fall at some point and bark back at someone in the car. But it's worth the try!

I will tell you how it goes...

The Cedars of Lebanon

2011-12-24T00:37:00.000-08:00

One of the good things about having family visiting is that I have to do all the sight seeing I usually don't take the time to do. I recently had my sister-in-law over and we decided to take her to what I consider the "heart" of Lebanon: the Cedars.

To me, going to the Cedars is like going on a pilgrimage. There is something very special about the drive up, leaving the craziness of Beirut behind and seeing the change in climate as I drive up and up.

We passed the beautiful town of Bcharre, with incredible rock constructions and tall towers. The view from up there is breathtaking.

We soon got to the Cedars. I had been there in May this year, and I was surprised to find a completely different sight this time. There was snow! And it was pretty cold I must say. But the snow made the sight even more majestic.

We walked around the Cedars in silence for a while. It is very solemn, being in the presence of these giants. They have witnessed so much. And they still grow tall and strong, some as high as 35 metres (115ft)!

This area is very much protected, as there are unfortnately not a lot of Cedars left. However, the Lebanese have made this tree their symbol. And it is a mighty one. These trees can withstand time, war and inclement weather. They grow strong and are incredibly generous with their shade and their beauty. They are resilient, a trait that all Lebanese will tell you about when talking proudly about their people.

I found this biblical quote that I think captures the spirit perfectly: "The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like the cedar in Lebanon" (Psalm 92:12)

It is true that the Lebanese are incredibly resourceful, entrepreneurial and resilient. It is true that in the face of all the horrors they have witnessed, many would have gotten lost in despair and given up. And to me it is almost poetic they have decided to make this tree a representation of who they are. When I am among these giants, I cannot help but feeling how transient and fragile my life is. How precious it is and how easily it can be destroyed. The Cedars of Lebanon are witnesses of it all. They have seen many like me, walk around, thinking about little sorrows and little worries. Problems that seems so real and that in 25 years will be completely forgotten. But they will be there. Immobile, grand and impartial.

Witnessing.

Let's hope the Lebanese are wise enough to preserve these treasures for generations to come.

PS: Even U2 wrote a song about them. Check it out!

Running in Beirut

2011-12-09T10:29:00.001-08:00

This blog post is dedicated to my friend CR, anawesome Marathon runner and to DL, who came all the way to Beirut to run thelast 7kms with us.

A couple of weeks ago, I ran a marathon. Yes, youheard right. I trained for a freaking 42.195kms race. I didn't go fast, but Ifinished it!

There are so many things that I would like to writeabout those 5 hours and 45 minutes. It can seem like a very long time. But the Beirut Marathon Association did a very good job at organizing it and theexperience was overall very positive.

I went there with my friends (who are all expertsrunners by the way!) and my husband bright and early at 6 am to Biel, the areawhere the Marathon was starting and ran up till 12:45pm, till the finish linein Martyr's Square.

Some very unusual things happened that day:

1) Amazingly enough, the Marathon started at 7:00am sharp!

2) Hamra street was empty. For those of you who goto Hamra often, you know that this is a miracle

3) All Lebanese came together to run all throughoutBeirut

It is this last point that I want to stress. A fewweeks before the Marathon, the organizers hung promotional posters all overtown, with catchy slogans related to why people run (and tied sometimes toadvertisements). What really caught my eye was this poster that said, "Irun for diversity".

I think the Marathon was true to this slogan. Andone of the rare occasions when you would see people from all groups of society,Achrafieh ladies next to veiled runners, old and young, foreigners andLebanese, men and women, all running together. It was a beautiful experience.

I had the chance to run in some of theneighborhoods considered "dangerous" by people from my side of town,to realize that nothing was really different from the other side really(besides the house of worship of course)...

Yesterday a friend told me that the Beirut Marathonis one of the hardest in the world because it is very lonely. Indeed, therearen't many people cheering on the sidelines, because no one really stops tosee you (besides your very kind friends who generously spend their Sundaypassing you water bottles). So it gets boring and you need to self motivate alot (thankfully my hubbie was by my side all the time!) Also, there weresome drivers who, believe it or not, defiantly drive on the closed roads, whichmakes the experience annoying at times and infuriating at others!

But it can't get better than running on theCorniche, with the sun on your face, and the breeze from the sea.

Forgiving Beirut

2011-11-14T11:26:00.001-08:00

I think nothing in life is a coincidence.

Remember my last blog post? When I was wondering why I was so angry in Beirut?

Well, it turns out I was at this magnificent conference this weekend. The conference was about healing past traumas, individual and collective. And I got some insights into my experience, as part of a collective experience in Lebanon.

I am someone who works on conflict prevention, but on a governmental/institutional level. I had never being exposed to the psychology of war and trauma. I must say that I had to put my brain in check at some points, as us "peace warriors" tend to "know" a lot of things about conflict, and have a lot of labels and fancy words to describe it. This conference was not really about the know, but on a deeper, more subtle level.

I think what really moved me about this conference was that it talked about what war does to people. About why people go to war. About how wars get transmitted from one generation to the other. About how people feel and think after they have been exposed to a war.

I was in the room with a mostly Lebanese audience. And as we all saw speakers, some of whom had been victims of war's atrocities themselves, share their experiences, I sensed deep sadness and sorrow in the room.

There were times when people were silent, there were times when people spoke and had to stop because they couldn't go on anymore. There were times when people were angry and frustrated. There was sometimes resignation and skepticism.

But mostly, there was a gentle determination to remain in the room, to listen and to learn.

One of the things I learnt was that 7 out of 10 people in the country were we live have seen a war event (loss of a loved one, loss of property, murder, bombs, etc.) at least once in their life. I also learnt that 10 out of 60 Lebanese have a mental health condition and only 1 seeks professional help.
I also learned that the more war atrocities one has seen in one's life, the more propensity one has to experience some behavioral condition in life (no matter when the events happened).

My Lebanese friends rarely speak about the war. And why would they? Isn't it a normal reaction, just wanting to move on?

But yet, it is so important to talk...

I witnessed this weekend people from Rwanda, Lebanon and Ireland forgiving the people who killed their loved ones. And not only in the surface, with a little smile, for self-gain or out of disdain. I mean a true sense of forgiveness, where the humanity of the other is embraced, and acknowledged. Where a genuine compassion is possible and gives the opportunity for self healing. I saw how the gift of forgiveness liberates our perpetrators, and honors our deep power to love one another.

I learned in this conference is that we all have our own internal wars. Some of them are due to external factors, and some of them are not. And the easy and common way is to respond with anger, to blame, to hold a grudge and to seek revenge.

I must say that today for the first time I can say I understand Lebanon a little better. On a deeper level. I witnessed the hurt, the fear and the sorrow. The need for revenge and redemption. And I also witnessed that beautiful resilience of the Lebanese. I heard the soft whisper of those who want to be free from the past. Who are willing the work for a bright future in a country that embraces all differences.

I feel full of hope for this country that is so dark and so bright at the same time. I am in awe at the power of people who want to emerge from the ashes of despair and hatred. I saw the deep longing for love and brotherhood. There are no coincidences as I said. I understood this weekend why I had to come here.

Aggresive Beirut

2011-11-07T00:58:00.000-08:00

I was recently in conversation with some"expat" women over dinner on the topic of aggression. Some assertedthat moving to Beirut had made them more aggressive. My usual self wouldhave replied that one becomes aggressive by choice, not be circumstance, but inthis occasion, I didn't have such a clear-cut answer.

Have I become more aggressive since I movedto Beirut?

I am a firm believer that one chooses one's way ofbeing in the face of circumstance, and not the other way around. But somehow inBeirut, I have noticed that little by little circumstances have started to takeover the best in me. Since the realization of my latent aggressive self, I havebecome more aware (self conscious?) of my behavior. And I am surprised at howlittle it takes now to get me absolutely and completely enraged. Why the hellam I so mad?

Let’s take a step back. What is aggression anyways?

Wikipedia tells us: "Aggressive behavior is abehavior which is intended to increase the social dominance of the organismrelative to the dominance position of other organisms"

As humans, we are social beings. And as socialbeings, we influence, love, hate, help, support or dominate one another. Itis just natural. That is what we do. Why is Beirut showing me this side ofmyself?

There have been events in Beirut where I have feltthe need to fight. I have been pushed, yelled at, looked at disrespectfully.There have been occasions when I have felt unsafe. I have heard talks aboutgunfire, car bombs, and massacres in neighboring countries. But I was usuallyable to calm myself down. I was usually able to take a deep breath. Not inBeirut. The guns of my mind come out very quickly here.

Is it the constant noise and car honking, is it thereckless driving? Is it the lack of rules, people cutting in line, theladies followed by their maids, carrying their bags? Is it the mistrust betweenpeople of different religions, the unkindness that people show to one another?Is it all the street animals, the children begging in the street? The menstaring at me as I walk in the street? Is it the oversexualization of women,the botox and the plastic surgeries?

I have no answers. I am in a weird, inexact andhighly subjective realm, the realm of feelings. And I just can’t help thesefeelings. They are there, like dormant snakes, ready to bite if someone stepson them.

Do I need to grow a thicker skin in Beirut, inorder to survive? Does the world need more people with thicker skin? In Beirut,I find it difficult to have an open heart. Sometimes the reality is very raw.And it has nothing to do with violence. It is just an overall feeling of hopelessness(in government, in the future, in things working) and mistrust of the other. Itis asphyxiating.

Can I put the positive spin to this? I sure can. Beirut is beautiful,Beirut is full of life. Beirut is full. Beirut is like being fed a very sweet baklavawith a huge wooden spoon, even when you are full already. Some times, it can bedelicious, but some others it just too much to get in one bite.

Spanish speaker? Arabic speaker rather

2011-10-16T04:54:00.000-07:00

In my humble attempts to learn Arabic, I have discoveredthat there are many words in Spanish that actually come from it. And to myrelief, I am not the only Spanish speaking person who doesn’t get Arabic(indeed, the Spanish word “Algarabía”, which means incomprehensible talk comesfrom “al-'Arabiya”, which basically means "Arabic").

NB: (By the way, as I write this, I realize that this blogpost will probably not mean much to my readers who do not speak Spanish,but if you are willing to take my word for it, there ARE loads of words inSpanish that come from Arabic).

NB2: If you want more serious explanation of theinfluence of Arabic in Spanish, just click here.

As I was saying: there are tons of words in Spanish thatcome from Arabic, many of which I could have sworn were nothing but “Mexicanisms”. Nevermind the obvious words, like "Guadalajara"- the name of a city (it also meansriver of stones)- or "babucha", a sort of slipper that comes originally fromMorocco, and that us Mexicans use to refer to any kind of Arabic-looking shoe. (On a side note:
there’s even a saying in Mexico “Sacate las Babuchas!” that I have no idea where it comesfrom, but basically it means you are very surprised).

I have made some fascinating findings with last names. I wasin Morocco recently and came across a certain Mr. Bargash. I could not believethis, as “Vargas” is a very common family name in Mexico. The other surprisewas when, over coffee, a friend told me that she had found out that the commonlast name “Reyes” actually comes from Arabic as well. You see, in Arabic, theword “Ras” (plural Reis) means head, boss or king. Well, guess how you say kingin Spanish? “Rey”.

The other ones that I like are articles of clothing.“Bantaloun” for “Pantalon” (pants), “Qamis” for “Camisa” (shirt), “Qalcet” for“Calcetines” (socks), “Sobat” for “Zapato” (shoes). I also love the ones thathave to do with food: “Zeitun” for “Aceituna” (olive), coming obviouslyfrom “Zeit” or “Aceite”(oil), “Zukkar for “Azucar”(sugar), the color “Zafra”, that means yellow, and where the word “Azafran”(saffron) comes from. And finally you have places in the house, such as “Assutáyha”for “azotea” (roof), or “Al-qubba” for “Alcoba” (room).

But my all time favorite is “al qawwad” (the messenger)which gives the word “Alcahuete”(accomplice in a love affair).

I wonder what my Mum will tell me when I go back home, and Istart asking for “Zeitunas”, or I say I am going to my “Alqubba”, or if I tellher I like her “Sobatos”… She will tell me “ You are loca!” (which comes from “lawqa").

PS: please note that my “spelling” with the words in Arabicmight not be correct, as I am reproducing them phonetically.

Walking around in Beirut

2011-10-04T13:19:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I am writing less these days because I am toobusy or because Beirut is becoming “what is usual”. I spend sometimes daysthinking about what I am going to write about and then it hits me!

I was running on Sunday on the “Corniche”, this promenade along the Mediterranean Sea, where everyone and their mother spends countless hours wondering around. I couldn’t help but thinking of the “Alameda” a long street in Mexico City’ s downtown, where everyone goes to hangout onSundays aswell.

The “Corniche” is Beirut’s traditional waterfront. You havebeautiful hotels, the American University of Beirut, Starbucks and Mc Donalds side by side withdecaying buildings, coffee shops and little stores.

On the Corniche, vagabonds are strolling around next to highly make-uped and jeweled ladies wearing Chanel (how else would you go jogging, hello?), little kids on their tricycles, next to big kids on their mopeds (yes, on the sidewalk), miniskirts next to veils, bikes and rollerblades and even fishermen next to runners.

On a Saturday or Sunday night, cars are parked along the sidewalk,blasting some Arabic songs, and people sometimes are even dancing too. Othersbring their Arguileh -or water pipe- and suck on it merrily while people-watching. A man canapproach you to sell you some knock-your-socks-off coffee (to “wake your veinsup” according to him. I just get massive jitters), bread, or cigarrettes.

But don’t be fooled: the Corniche is vibrant and fully aliveevery day of the week, and dare I say, at every hour. Sometimes when I go for arun at 7am, it is already full of joggers, ladies on their cell-phones orfishermen. During the day, you can see some people jumping off the Corniche to swim (no girls allowed though). And on weekends families come to walk around, the Corniche being one of the only pedestrian areas in Beirut.

I personally just love the Ferris wheel, lit up with neon lights at night or the fact that you can see off "Raouche" the Pigeon rock at a distance.

But what I like the most about the Corniche is that everybody goes. Young and old. Families and young couples. Men and women. Muslim and Christian. Locals and tourists. These days I feel there are fewer and fewer places like this. Hence the importance of public spaces.

So if you are in Beirut, do not miss an afternoon walk along the Corniche. You will see all of Lebanon there, walking.

Photos from Wikipedia

Generosity at a whole different level

2011-09-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

I have been slacking in my writing, I confess. ButI do have a good reason (or excuse?)

I fostered a cat and her 5 kitties for 2 months. Myhusband calls them the "refugees" (joke, no political correctness atall).

I have written about cats in Lebanon before. Thereare loads of them in the street. Since I love cats, this is like an awesomething for me since my landlord doesn't let us have pets in the house.

For my husband, he thinks cats are the Lebaneseequivalent of street rats. I couldn't disagree more. Cats have personality. Andpersonality goes a long way (any Pulp Fiction fans?)

So here is the story of the Mum and the 5 kitties:I am walking past the dumpster next to my house and say, as usual, hello to myfeline neighbors. I notice this time though that there is a new cat in theblock. She is skinny, and frankly sort of ugly. But she starts following me(street cats don't do that) and meowing and meowing. She then goes to a littlecorner behind a pile of trash and shows me 6 little little cats. Maybe 2 weeksold.

The first thing that surprised me is that a cat never shows where her kitties are. Second, street cats don't follow people. This was a house cat. Long story short, I go to my house, bring milk for her in a little Tupperware and she drinks it like crazy. Poor Mum-Cat is starving. So I pour some more milk and go home.

The next day, there are only 5 kitties left. There is a little fur ball further away, but it looks crushed. Maybe a car backed down? I panic. These kittens are going to die if someone doesn't do something.

But who?

I call my friend who volunteers at Animal Lebanon. She sends a volunteer to pick up the cats and brings them to the vet. The kittens have an eye infection and need medicine. The Mum-Cat is malnourished.

So I call my landlord and my husband and we found a happy arrangement: the cats are allowed home as long as it is not a permanent arrangement and they stay in the balcony. Yahoo!

Having 5 kittens in my house was so much fun. Even my husband warmed up to it, as we saw them grow stronger, get better, and wrestle with each other. I wouldn't say Mum cat got fat, since she was breastfeeding 5 kittens after all. But she looked much better.

After the 6th week, it was time to find a home for the kittens. Friends, friends of friends and people who contacted me through Animal Lebanon came to the house and took them to a loving home, one by one. It made me so happy to meet such generous people. These kitties were going to have a much better and healthier life.

The problem was the Mum. Usually people don't adoptadult cats. And then, a co-worker of mine told me about H. H lives in Saida, acity south from Beirut, and is a huge animal lover. He has a garden and rescuesstreet cats and dogs (in separate locations). He has 60 cats and 50 dogs. Andhe pays for their food and medical treatment out of pocket.

So I contacted H and he told me no problem, hewould take the cat as long as she was spayed. So Animal Lebanon helped me finda very professional vet who did the operation for a good price. Mum cat recoveredwithin a week.

I drove down to Saida with 2 friends, and H invited us to his house. Wesat down in his garden, surrounded by cats of all shapes and sizes. He servedus fruit from his garden and fresh lemonade (although he was fasting) and toldus how taking care of animals made him feel that his heart was turning softerand sweeter. He truly believes that it is humanity’s duty to take care of defenselesscreatures that can’t speak up. And he doesn't stop there. Every time he sees awounded, abused or abandoned animal in the street, he brings it to the vet andkeeps it in the garden. He has even made a deal with the local butcher, and hecomes everyday to pick up the meat scarps to give them to his dogs.

I was just amazed at his compassion and commitment. He is by no means arich man. But that doesn’t stop him. He only asked me to bring a big bag of catfood. And he took another cat in.

I was so proud of myself and my little cat rescue mission. This man putthings in perspective…

Although there are organizations in Lebanon to protect animals and do a great job–such asAnimals Lebanon- the amount of work to be done is enormous. A lot of streetanimals have to rely on people who pick them up spontaneously, such as H, but inall cases that doesn’t mean they will be cared for properly or that they won’tend up in the future back on the streets. I don’t know what needs to be done,but I am certain there must be a way to establish a more systematic approach tostreet animals’ care and protection. Any ideas?

On things we have in common

2011-08-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

A dear Lebanese friend lost a relative this weekend. Not knowing the "protocol", I called upon my Lebanese friends to understand what was appropriate in terms of dress code, what to say, etc.

We decided to go as a group with some friends, since the funeral was going to take place in the village where my friend's family is from, and there was no chance that this clueless Mexican was going to make it up there (my friend later explained that funerals take place in the villages because in Beirut apartments are smaller and there is no room to accommodate visitors).

We arrived to this beautiful village in the mountains, and I noticed because of the religious symbols in front of the houses that we were in a Maronite village. As we entered the house, we were invited to the living room, where all the women were gathered. Later someone explained to me that the biggest couch is reserved for the people who were the closest to the deceased, the immediate family. So when visitors enter the room, it is obvious who to give the condolences to (felt a little silly with my "I am sorry for your loss" by the way, realizing that most people didn't speak English...)

We then proceeded to the balcony, where the men were gathered. Since it was much cooler, I was about to sit down there when my Lebanese friend told me "We go inside". Until that point I had not realized that men and women were in separate rooms. Thank God my friend was there. That would have been awkward to say the least.

We started chatting and the topic of what is traditional in Lebanon around funerals came up, for obvious reasons. It was very interesting to me to realize that people do different things depending on where they from (i.e. their religion). This is something I always forget, that in Lebanon you don't think in terms of "what we do in Lebanon" (as I would in terms of "what we do in Mexico), but you think along the lines of "what my family does" or "what we do in the village".

So my Muslim friend who comes from Baalbeck was telling me that over there, people get buried in the Muslim tradition, with absolutely no jewelry or anything other than a white cloth, to symbolize the humility of the person as s/he goes back to God. When I told her that in Mexico we cremate people she looked at me very surprised. Apparently this is a very foreign concept to them (and reading online, it is actually forbidden for Muslims to cremate the death).

She also mentioned that a huge banquet has to be offered (almost 700 people went the last one she attended) and a respected member of the community is invited to give a speech. She mentioned also something about having horses present during the ceremony.

Something interesting that came up was the hiring of women to cry during the wake. This is something I had heard was done in Mexico, and my friend told me that in Lebanon they do it to.

I was sharing with her that in Mexico funerals are usually very solemn, in funeral homes, with people barely speaking or making noise. This event at my friend's house was somehow more convivial and lighter.

A woman came around offering coffee and water. I gladly accepted since I was hot and thirsty. I soon realized that my other friend, who happens to be Muslim as well, didn't take anything, as it is now Ramadan.

Suddenly it dawn on me: here I was, this Mexican girl, seating with a Maronite, a Greek Orthodox, and two Muslims, having a quiet conversation in a Sunday afternoon. We were all there to support our friend through a difficult time. We were not different.

So next time I hear about Lebanon, about how divided and sectarian it is, I will make sure to remind myself that there are loads of people who aren't like that. That there are decent, loving people no matter where I go. I was honored and touched to be able to be part of this moment and to witness Lebanese with Lebanese, as members of a community, no matter where they came from or which religion they were.

Piano concert under the stars of Lebanon

2011-07-24T06:18:00.000-07:00

I recently attended an incredible concert in the midst of Roman ruins a couple of hours away from Beirut. The setting couldn't have been more perfect.

As I was seating and watching my surroundings, I couldn't help but being, once more, surprised by Lebanon. I mean, this is a country that is constantly under some sort of political, economic or social instability. And here, in the midst of what would be considered "hostile" territory (indeed, some unfortunate Estonians had been kidnapped in the area in March this year, and were released recently), I am listening to a world-class pianist perform Beethoven, Schubert and Chopin. I did take some video, but -helas- the Internet speed in my apartment will not allow me to upload things to YouTube :(

Top moments of the night:

1. When in the middle of Prokofiev's Sarcasms a series of loud bangs where heard, probably (hopefully) fire works coming from the village nearby in celebration of a wedding or other equally significant event (and the audience of course, pretended not hearing them)

2. When in the middle of the concert, we heard the Call to Prayer, loud and clear. Here, again, the audience and performerpretended nothing was happening. The performer did stop at some point, in a highly theatrical pause, that I suspect had more to do with a little mental break from the noise, than with the music itself.

3. The kebab stand and Pepsi vending machine, inside of the ruins, for all hungry concert- goers searching for a lat night snack.

Overall, the performance was incredible, the setting amazing, and the organization impeccable. Which brings back my overarching conversation around the contradictions of Lebanon. On the one had, you have this chaotic, disorderly country where things seldomly work properly, and on the other, you have this amazingly cultured, sophisticated and refined people, who give you access to experiences that you would never dream of seeing.

Here are some more pictures of an unforgettable night. Enjoy.

Home Sweet Home

2011-07-18T12:07:00.000-07:00

I am just coming back from a 2-week conference in the US. I hadn’t been there since last year when we moved to Beirut and this was also the longest I have been away from Lebanon since I arrived.

I spent a couple of days by myself before and after my conference. I noticed during these days that things seemed unexciting and I was bored and slightly numb. There was an overall sense of monotony.

Being usually an upbeat and active person, I kept asking myself what was wrong. I couldn’t really figure it out. This was not my usual self. And then I remembered a comment some American friends had made upon their return to the US after living for years in Beirut. Things were predictable. There were no surprises. Life was dull.

On a bus in the US, I was feeling tense and uneasy. I wasn’t really sure why. Then, I realized that the bus was there exactly on schedule, and it left me exactly at the bus stop. “Why am I so nervous?-I asked myself- There is no need to be nervous or on edge on public transportation here. In the US, things work.” There was nothing to figure out.

Yesterday, I was walking in this amazing mall. Full of amazing stores. Full of pretty, new things that you could only find there. As I was walking around, I felt tired and empty. I just couldn’t do it. The ads, the sales, the stuff. I was completely overwhelmed and anxious and had to leave.

Finally, today on the plane back, as I was watching the news on a tiny TV screen, I realized – to my surprise- that I hadn’t watched the news for over a week. I say to my surprise, because when I am in Beirut I usually read the news in the morning, at lunchtime, and sometimes in the evening. Yes, in Beirut it is totally normal for me to follow the news all the time. Because if I don’t, not only am I totally out of the loop, but also, I have this feeling that I missed something important that could prove key in times of crisis.

In the US somehow I felt disconnected. Not really sure what that meant. I felt isolated and alone. Very far away from everything. I felt like I was not at home anymore.

So now I ask myself… Have I become used to Beirut? Have I become an adrenaline-addict, car-honking, chaos-loving, person? Have I pushed comfort and order aside, to embrace the unpredictability of Lebanon? Wasn’t the US the ideal, what I wanted all along?

This is completely unexpected.

But as I am on the plane, I can’t help but feeling relaxed. And strangely safe. A bit more free. And yes, the flight with Lufthansa was more orderly than the flight with MEA. But as the saying goes “Home is where the heart is”. Well, I guess I am going home now. Because it is now clear to me that my heart is in Beirut.

The Cancun of the Middle East

2011-07-03T17:07:00.000-07:00

A couple of weekends ago I was invited to a “Mexican” beach party in a beach club near Beirut. I think I went more out of curiosity than of patriotism. I mean, after seeing the poster for the party- with a pretty bikini girl with a sombrero on, and an inviting “Arriba, Arriba, Andale, Andale”- how could I say no?

So here I come, with my jean-shorts and my official Mexican soccer team T-shirt ready to experience some relaxing beach time on a Sunday afternoon.

When my husband and I got to the beach club entrance, we realized that there were bodyguards at the door, and a list. And our names had actually being put on the list. “Hmmm…” I thought to myself. “I think we didn’t understand what a Sunday afternoon beach party in Lebanon was all about”.

When we started walking inside of the beach club I realized that I was-yet again -severely underdressed (and overweight). Yes, Lebanese women wear high heels and make up even to beach parties.

As we arrived to where the party was taking place, my husband’s jaw dropped, and quite frankly mine did too. Let’s say that right in front of us was a Girls-Gone –Wild meets Cancun Spring Break meets Playboy Mansion.

Our host greeted us with a vigorous champagne splash in the face from a bottle that he had been shaking over the dancers. And as I looked around me I realized that I didn’t have to go to Cancun anymore to experience the crazy spring break frenzy. Cancun had just come to me! Right here in Lebanon, on a Sunday afternoon!

I must confess I was a bit overwhelmed at the beginning by the techno music, the high-heeled girls dancing on the top of the bar with only their bikinis on (that is besides the shoes) and the drinking directly from the bottle from the guys. Gosh I am getting old.

But you know what? They had REAL Mariachi hats hanging from the ceiling and that gave me the little boost of confidence that I needed. Those hats were the only Mexican thing about the Mexican party besides me (and the chilies hanging from the ceiling). So this hot Chiquita put the Mariachi hat on and then showed those Lebanese girls some Mexican moves.

After a couple of hours people just… left.

And all the crazy party, noise and girls wearing mini bikinis were replaced by a beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. My husband and I looked at each other baffled and just started laughing. Where else can you see these contrasts, from intense partying to a romantic sunset in a matter of hours? Only in Lebanon.

Clapping on Landings Part 2

2011-06-11T02:39:00.000-07:00

A while back, I wrote about my experience of an airplane landing in Lebanon. As I read it now, I can see how uncomfortable it had been for me, new to this area, to understand the way things work in Lebanon, and with a tone of humour, had described a situation that had seemed funny at that point in time.

I had the occasion to be in a flight again back to Beirut this week, and this time, humor turned into anger. Being a person who prides myself on being able to keep my cool, this anger came as a surprise, since this was after all a seemingly mundane situation. However, it also gave me access to a more deeper understanding of my own discomfort and prejudices as foreigner in the Middle East.

I come from a country very similar to Lebanon, in the sense that without a very efficient public sector, the individual protects its private interest through a network of contacts, a tradition of bribery and an overall opportunism. However, I was educated in a French school my whole childhood, and then attended a Mexican university that follows an entirely American doctrine, to then do my post graduate studies in an university in the United States. It isn't then surprising that my overall "opinion" of the world, and how it "should" function is inevitably influenced by a western - or whatever you want to call it- mentality.

In this world vision, the concept of "order" is highly sought after, and following rules, being considerate to others, being polite, waiting, letting others pass first, etc. are behaviours that are expected and also praised.

I have trained myself as a master of consideration (despite my Mexican "gandallismo", or opportunism, that I have described before), so in airplanes, contained spaces, with restricted movement, with a gazillion of unspoken, unwritten rules, I have very little tolerance for any one not abiding by them and "misbehaving".

So it is not a surprise that I yelled at a person who cut me in line, was absolutely disgusted by the dirty seat I was seating on, and was looking with an overall disdain to my surroundings, at all "these" people who were not seating down, stuffing their bags on my face, letting kids throw food to other passengers (i.e. me), fighting with one another, shouting, drooping food on the floor, etc, etc, etc (and yes, clapping during landing).

I spent at least 2 hours looking for a "decent" soul to cross looks with, so I could commiserate with someone about my tragic situation, and feel a little less alone in this chaotic 5 hours flight. After the third hour however, I started noticing the tension in my neck, how tight I was holding my laptop case, and how, after the third try, I could just not focus on my highly important paper full of big, fancy, intelligent words.

But most of all, I noticed how separated and different I felt from the people around me. How much I was certain there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that I could have in common with "these' people. In shock, I started feeling ashamed (that is usually what I do, as a good Catholic girl). And then, I started connecting myself with reality and realizing how the "western" filter, the "things should be orderly" filter, the "I am better than them" filter was not allowing me to 1) enjoy the hilariousness of the whole situation, 2) chat with people around me, who I actually knew nothing about and 3) relax.

I noticed that the person I had yelled at in line was- of course- seating in the row in front of me. So I tapped his shoulder and apologized for my behaviour, and explained I had a weak point for orderly lines, and that I could be a bitch about it. He told me quickly "No harm done". Then he looked at me and said "Do you live in Lebanon?". And when I said that indeed, I did, he replied laughing "That doesn't surprise me. I would be annoyed by lines too." In that moment, his wife turned and offered me gum. I took it and she smiled at me.

When the conversation was over, I was moved to tears. "What a jerk I can be, my God" I though. This was an important lesson for me. Trying to make the world around me fit my expectations of how it should be robs me from the experience of feeling connected and appreciating the beauty in what is actually happening. Had I stuck to my righteousness, I would have lost this moment with these total strangers. The generosity and graciousness of this couple was extraordinary: they were joking around and offering gum to a woman who had been a total bitch to them 3 hours before.

If that isn't tolerance, then I don't know what is.

Camping in Lebanon

2011-06-08T01:24:00.001-07:00

Last weekend, I went camping with some friends to a camping site near Amchit (I swear that’s the name of the town). We packed cooler, grill, sleeping bags and back packs and off we went. My husband, who prides himself on being an outdoor expert, was looking forward to starting the fire from scratch, grilling the marshmallows and walking around in Nature (according to him only people who grew up in a city say “Going to Nature”)…

So you can only imagine our surprise when we arrived to the camp site and saw that the first “camper” had brought a Karaoke machine with him. We stared wide eyed around us as little by little we began to understand what camping in Lebanon was actually all about. Let’s say it is more like “partying outdoors” than camping in Nature…

So amidst the highly fashionable concurrence (darn, I am underdressed, again…), perfectly sculpted bodies, the neon Ray ban glasses, the techno beat and the giant plastic swimming pools, we started the grill and opened the first Almazas (local beers) to then watch a most beautiful sunset.

Don’t get me wrong, the campsite is actually great, clean and with a fantastic view to the Mediterranean Sea. But the longer I live in Lebanon, the more I realize than any time you are outside your house it is an opportunity to see and be seen, and the concept of a laid back gathering-such as camping with friends- doesn’t mean you lose the “style”.

After talking with some local folks, there are apparently some “normal” campsites where people truly go to get away from the fast-paced urban life style. And there is a tradition of trekking (check out this post) and even a Lebanese Mountain Trail that you can do like in a month and a half. It’s just that as clueless foreigners we ended up in the campsite that had a website. And that meant, well, that we got the “fancy” experience.

PS: We complained a lot about the Karaoke guy up till like 10 o’clock. After that, I think we all joined.

Welcome to Lebanon

2011-05-15T02:32:00.000-07:00

When you walk the streets of Lebanon, people will greet you in a million ways. Some examples are:

MarHaba (Hi)
Kifik? (How are you? for a girl)
Sabah al khair/nour (Good morning/afternoon)
Bonjour (if you are in the Christian side)

I am sure there is a hidden key to which one is the most appropriate, depending on the person you are talking to, but I personally mostly use MarHaba since it generally applies to everyone, no matter what time of the day it is.

What really intrigued me since I got here was that people will 9 times out of 10 reply "Ahlan" or "Ahlan Wa Sahlan". However, people also say "Ahlan" when you come in a shop, when you ask for something, and when you say "Thank you". So I figured out that "Ahlan" was the equivalent of "You are welcome".

However, like everything in Arabic, I knew there was something more to it than the simple straightforward English "You are welcome". So I asked a Lebanese friend and did a bit of research online and this is what I found:

"Ahlan" literally means "family, kinfolk."
"Sahlan" literally means "easy". So 'Sahlan' might refer to something equivalent to "May you tread an easy path (as you enter)."

Another explanation I found read: "The word 'Ahlan' means something like "You arrived among your family", or as we sometimes say "Make yourself at home". It's the same idea : with us you're home, you're in your family. It an expression of hospitality and friendliness.

I know that many times I use words automatically without meaning them. Or even worse, I hear things without really reflecting upon what they mean. Recently, a very wise person told me that the highest thing one can do for another is to welcome that person with respect and love. And when I heard that, it dawned on me that people in Lebanon have been welcoming me as their family every day, in every encounter.

I have written before about Lebanese hospitality which already blows my mind. So this little word "Ahlan" has truly transformed my experience in Lebanon and my experience of the Lebanese. How generous is it to welcome someone they don't know with the respect and love they would offer a family member? And how can they say "You are in your family" to a total stranger?

For a foreigner, who has been taught to mistrust strangers, this is a revolutionary concept. By learning to apply it, I can see how this will improve the quality of my interactions and the overall quality of my life in Lebanon. I will also maybe loosen up a bit and not be so stressed out or focus on the differences between "them" and "me".

What a paradigm shift! I walk among my family in Lebanon... The challenge is "Will I be able to drop the BS and truly welcome them back?" I think it is definitely worth trying.

Snogging in Lebanon

2011-05-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

Lebanon, like Mexico, is a rather conservative country.

Do not be fooled by the nine inch heals, leather pants and cleavages. Girls and boys in Lebanon behave in public. PDA is not appropriate. I wouldn't say that it is as conservative as how I have heard the countries in the Gulf are, i.e. not even hand holding is permitted.

Here in Lebanon, it just doesn't happen that much. You would see the occasional snogging couple in a club, but it is still rare.

It sort of reminds me of my teenage years in Mexico. You see in Mexico, as in Lebanon, people live with their parents till they get married. But that doesn't mean that you don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend. Or that you don't have needs. Especially as a teenager. So, yup, the car is usually the only opportunity you get. Parked in a dark corner, or next to a park... It's not like you are going to do it at your parent's house. Come on... Who hasn't done it??

Lately, I have heard of some underground snogging scene... the "Lover's lane" they call it. It is in the Dbayeh area, a bit North of Beirut. This area was planned to attracts developers, so the town invested in roads and all. But somehow the developers didn't come, so it remains this big open space. And since in Beirut there aren't loads of parks, people have reclaimed this space for running, walking around and yes... snogging.

Last night at a friend's house, a friend told me that she used to go to Dbayeh at night and park behind the cars, and then turn the lights on. I thought of this as a bit mean but also hilarious. Pfewww, that's the worst feeling. When you think you got caught. But that doesn't stop you from doing it!

Another place where I have heard some action happens is near Pigeon Rock. One can see some teenagers in the area snogging, far away from the eyes of pedestrians. Teenagers from all religions that is. Which makes me smile, since teenagers will always be teenagers, not matter where they come from. Maybe we can learn from them to be a bit more fearless. To do those things that are a bit risky, but that gives us a sense of adventure. Even if that means getting caught in a bit of an embarrassing situation...

The Lebanese Gandalla

2011-04-21T08:02:00.000-07:00

As my fellow blogger Ginger Beirut very accurately pointed in out: when you are in a new culture, it is very hard to understand the whole etiquette/politeness thing.

Something that might be surprising to some, who picture us Mexicans as this free souls, fiesta goers, is that we are actually sort of uptight in all matters of politeness.

This might be a matter of class actually, or just part of our historical heritage. Us Mexicans we always want to be appropriate, polite, or "bien educado".

But the interesting part is that we are also totally inconsiderate in other ways: after raising eyebrows at someone else's faux pas in private, it is not uncommon to see a Mexican turn into this "gandalla" this absolutely inconsiderate creature.

A "gandalla" is very Mexican, someone who will cut you in line, or in traffic, the person who gets all the cheese on top of the lasagna, the guy who stuffs his face at the party he crashed.

To the proper Mexican a "gandalla" is shameful, especially if s/he is related to you. Ugh, you'd rather die before being associated with one. So you say "no thank you" to the last piece of pizza in the box, you say "go ahead" to the old lady behind you in the bathroom line (and hate her for taking hours), and you wait until the host has started eating even if you are starving.

But the reality is that to be Mexican is to be gandalla. Especially coming from Mexico City (come on, amidst 25 million people, if you snooze, you loose): we'd rather die before letting someone pass, we shout about people's mothers and penis' sizes (small) when they cut in front of our car and if someone takes a parking spot you were waiting for, a fist fight is totally justified (yup, I've done it).

So this Mexican walks the world like Dr. Jekill and Mr. Hide, with this polite/gandalla condition, misunderstood, uptight, fearful and rebellious...

Until I got to Lebanon. Man, Lebanon has some of the most beautiful specimens of gandallas. The road gives you everyday examples of how gandalla people can be here. The ladies in the big SUVs are the best ones. They don't even look at you. They just jam on the pedal and "tough shit" if you are in front of them. Sometimes I just laugh. It is shameless, no, it is defiant.

Girls in the bathroom are quite gandalla too. You can be waiting in a restaurant in line for 10 minutes, wondering what the hell they are doing in there. When you see them emerge, done up, perfumed and powdered, they might glance at you with an "in your face" attitude, to see if you dare say something.

I think the best was when my husband and I were driving on a one way street and we came face to face with a lady who was coming on the other (wrong) way. When we asked her to back up, she gave us the finger, turned off her car and started BBMing her friend. It took 4 other cars behind us and all the neighbors to move her. I didn't know if I wanted to kill her or congratulate her... I was just sorry I couldn't tell her "Que gandalla!"

But to back to my initial point: what is appropriate, polite or "bien educado" in Lebanon? Maybe this "gandallismo" is the survivor's attitude. Maybe this is just who you become when you can't rely in a system to make things orderly. You have to fight your way through life... and the traffic light.

Green space in Beirut

2011-04-17T01:14:00.001-07:00

For those of you who live in Beirut, you know that this city is not what you would call "green". Parks are not particularly common, especially since taking care of them is expensive. Near my house there is actually a park called "Sioufi Gardens" that is so run down that it is almost depressing to walk around it.

So you can only imagine our surprise when one day my husband and I found Horsh Beirut, this amazingly beautiful park in the middle of Beirut.

This park has been there forever, and was completely burned during the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon. From a pine forest of over 1,250,000 m2 in 1696 to a park of over 800,000 m2 in 1967 (≈ 5% of Municipal Beirut), today Horsh Beirut is only a park of 255,000 m2. But still, it is huge!

After the war Horsh Beirut was restored and opened to the public.

However, some said that the crowds were starting to do some real damage to it, while others were afraid that sectarian fights would erupt in its grounds, so the municipality closed it. Today it is this beautiful green space surrounded my closed gates, between the Muslim side and the Christian side of town that can only be seen when you pass it while driving.

Yup, this magical place is actually closed to the public. And most Beirutis have never entered the park.

We felt like little kids who were been given a candy, and had to give it back after the first bite. "What do you mean we can't go in?", we asked the guard.

So this weekend we beat the system and spent actually a whole morning in the park... How did we do that??

Well, with a group of 32 friends we took on helping Zahra, a lovely Lebanese woman in her late 40s who takes care of the "Greenhouse", a garden located in the heart of Horsh Beirut.

As you might imagine, the gigantic greenhouse was a bit run down too, and Zahra does not receive any funds from the municipality to buy new tools. "We work with what we have" she says, while showing me broken shovels, twisted scissors and old buckets.

With the help on an incredibly generous person, we were able to buy Zahra new tools. Our friends were totally on board to spend a Saturday morning getting dirty and enjoying the fresh air, the flowers and plants and the tremendously calming effect of working in a garden.

Zahra walked us around the park and showed us the trees and the medicinal plants that you can find in it: remedies for a tummy ache, leaves to kill feet fungi, trees that absorb bacteria and clean the air... We all felt healthier, more knowledgeable and connected to one another.

Zahra told us stories of reconciliation, personal growth and atonment. She recalled how she was afraid of the "others" after the war, and that through receiving little kids from different groups in the park, she has been able to embrace human beings, no matter what religious background they have. She has also brought together people who wouldn't normally come together, to have fun while working in the gardens.

I think these stories left us all full of hope and with a renewed optimism. Spending time in the park was healing for all of us. And the only thing it took was offering a couple of hours of our Saturday morning.

So whoever is reading this post and lives in Beirut: the park is NOT closed to volunteers. Just go to Horsh Beirut on a Saturday morning and ask to speak to Zahra from the greenhouse, or send her an e-mail to zouzou_wr@hotmail.com. She will welcome you with open arms.

Fitness in Lebanon

2011-03-16T03:42:00.000-07:00

There is something that continues to blow my mind in Lebanon, even after 8 months of being here: people's obsession about their appearance.

I mean, I have never seen women (and some men) more done up in my entire life. Let me explain a bit more.

When I go out to the supermarket, I usually wear jeans and a T-shirt (especially on Sundays!), and find myself not only under-dressed but also under-makeuped.

When I get in the elevator, I can forget about my perfume, since all I will be able to smell for the next hour is the perfume of the woman or man who was there before me.

When I go get my nails done at this beauty salon, I need to have a 10 minute discussion with the girl who works there explaining why I a) don't use acrylic nails, b) don't want to bleach my arms' hair (sorry for the visual there) and c) only come every other week. O a side note, it seems like 9 times out of 10, there are men getting their nails done at the beauty salon as well.

In downtown Beirut, you can find pretty much every big fashion brand, and the most expensive ones. If you go to the mall, all girls are wearing at least 9- inch heels. And if you go to a club, forget it, it is a freaking fashion show.

Please don't get me wrong, I am someone who loves make up and cool clothes. I have walked the streets of Paris, London and New York. I like fashion, and actually follow it up a bit. But style in Lebanon is far beyond anything I have seen.

I think we are all fashion victims to a certain extent (even those who say they aren't because they are obsessed with not looking like they're fashion victims). We are after all bombarded constantly by advertisements, and taught on TV, magazines and movies what looks cool and what is out.

But in this day and age looks, go actually beyond clothes, as it includes-especially in Lebanon- the way a body should look like.

To be fair, I believe that every woman in the world (and I think now more and more men) has experienced the pressure, the need or the desire to be "fit". It is common knowledge that to be "fit" is equated to be thin, healthy, athletic or just look good.

But, if you think about it, the word "fitness" actually means "the quality of being suitable". So in this context, far from coming from a desire of being healthy, when we talk about being "fit" , we are actually concerned about our ability of being adequate, suitable, or up to standard.

Suitable for what? you might ask yourself.

Lebanon is the country with more plastic surgery in the world. Some even say that one out of 3 women have gone "under the knife" in Lebanon. It actually has 1 million and a half interventions a year, seven times the rate in France! And in Lebanon there is actually something called "Plastic surgery tours". In some Gulf countries plastic surgery is considered taboo, so people come to Lebanon to get the procedure done. Europeans often come too, since Lebanese surgeons are professional and cheaper.

But why Lebanon though?

According to some, the plastic surgery boom came after the civil war, when people were disfigured. Also, since there were more women than men, women became obsessed with their looks to find suitable husbands. Another theory is at since unemployment is high, looks have become an important criterion to raise the chances of getting recruited.

But what actually surprises me the most is that I actually think that Lebanese are very attractive already. So I just don't understand where this need to look a certain way comes from.
I wonder if it comes from the fact that the Lebanese seem to be living only for the "now", as the future is so uncertain in this country. Or maybe this comes from a nostalgic idea of things needing to look a certain way, to compensate for what has been lost... Who knows.

The one thing I know is that my "expat" colleagues and I oftentimes that we are getting our hair and nails done more often here than ever in our entire life. But the reality is that no matter what we do, we will never look Lebanese. For good or bad. It's just too much work.

I'll just tell you who you are

2011-03-15T04:30:00.000-07:00

In Mexico we have this expression: "Tell me who your friends are, I will tell you who you are" (boy, did my mother repeat that one over my teenage years!). This, obviously, comes from the popular assumption that people who are alike hang out together.

In Lebanon, this assumption goes beyond socializing, since here every little detail about you lets people know who you are.

A note for fairness: when someone tells you in Mexico where s/he comes from, you can deduct some basic things about that person, especially if s/he comes from the capital (like s/he is an arrogant or impatient a@@).

However,the mere fact of a Lebanese telling people what region or village his family is from, people in Lebanon will immediately assume they know everything there is to know about that person.

In a way, this makes sense historically, as some groups- like the Druze, have lived traditionally in a specific area (the Chouf Mountains, I understand). I want to caution that this is not, by the way, an anthropological analysis of human settlements in Lebanon. What I mean by this post is that group identification in Lebanon is extreme.

Since I just got here, I have been surprised by the assumptions people make of one another, even when they don't know each other very well. When people mention the name of their village, others assume they know their religion, their income, their politics, their education and even which language they speak. I came across an interesting blog written by a Lebanese, who says that even the colors you wear indicate your political affiliation.

On a funny note: I was offered work recently as a house maid on the street, because of the way I look. When I asked the guy where he thought I was from, he told me "You're Philipino". He was completely surprised (and as a matter of fact speechless) when I told him I wasn't.

As a foreigner, I often receive advice from well-intentioned Lebanese (who I am sure are looking for my best interests) not to hang out with people from such and such area or such and such religion. So if I follow this advice, I don't even need to know anything about people, to be able to say who they are. This completely undermines my networking possibilities!

I find this whole affair arrogant , and also very short sighted. How can you really know who someone is by a mere superficial assessment? As a matter of fact, I didn't like some of my best friends the first time I met them!

So... Let's give each other a chance and allow ourselves the opportunity to be positively surprised by one another.

Private vs. Public

2011-03-04T23:54:00.000-08:00

I know I have already written about how hospitable the Lebanese can be. I wanted to focus this time on something that really struck me the other day.

I work in an office with about 400 people. Last week, there was a guy who was walking office by office with a huge box of chocolates.

I personally didn't know the guy, and to my surprise, he came beaming into my office to offer me a chocolate and tell me his wife just had a baby.

I was absolutely moved by the gesture, since a) I had never seen anything like this before and b) I realized what a wonderful custom this is, to let your whole community know about this happy event and about how happy you are.

In Mexico, to the contrary of what many would think, we are actually very private about our personal matters. It is hard to explain, since we are very social at the same time. But I dare say that we do not talk about the really personal stuff in public. There is a huge emphasis on "being appropriate" and saying something that would be shameful for you or your family is an absolute no-no.

And after living in New England (North East of the US), forget it. I am just used to keep conversations, especially at work on a rather superficial level, unless I have a colleague with whom I feel more at ease, and I open up.

What became very clear to me in Lebanon is that people talk about everything. Even with strangers. Some of my friends complain that this is just to nosy, that people shouldn't inquire about every detail of your life. But I just find it fascinating.

Let me give you an example: I enter the elevator in my office, and a woman is in there. I smile politely and then stare at the ceiling (I hate awkward elevator silence).

The woman asks me: are you new? And I go, no, I have been here for 6 months. And then she goes, where do you work (which unit), where do you live, are you married, you got any kids?

Or I am talking to a Lebanese person and he asks me how much my rent is, if my husband is happy, if I have gained weight since last time we saw each other... I mean, things that a Mexican would never ask.

I must say at the beginning, this made me very uncomfortable. I would just lie or change the subject. But I have now realized that behind this superficial "small talk" that I have been accustomed to my whole life is a huge fear of being known (and judged). So I talk about the little things, so the other doesn't have too much information (and can't use it against me).

Maybe the fact that I come from a city with over 20 million people makes me just naturally distrusting. Maybe my culture doesn't allow me to be vulnerable in public. Or maybe this is just a personality trait. The bottom line is that I find this Lebanese nosiness completely disarming. It makes me open up. Tell people who I am. And people look genuinely interested about me when they ask all these questions.

I don't know if as a stranger in this land I crave this type of familiarity and intimacy with people. But I must say that it has allowed me to develop more meaningful relationships around me. People in Lebanon are just friendly. For whatever reason, they just want to know.

Drama Queens (and Kings)

2011-02-24T10:26:00.000-08:00

If anyone knows a Mexican, they know they will have a share of the most delicious drama. Man... us Mexicans, we love drama. We are experts, masters, no, artists in the field of drama. And the juicier, more intriguing and sentimental we can make it, the better.

Also we have very artistic and elaborate ways to express our passion for drama. Drama ranges from fist fights in bars, jealousy between couples, rolling with pain on the field during a soccer match, shouting like crazies during our independence day... But man, our music really portrays it. And the best example for this is Mariachi.

I mean... there is nothing like Mariachi. To express love, a heartbreak or just plain disappointment in life. Mariachi during weddings, during quince anios, during farewell parties... Or for serenades, when our loved one needs reassurance of our absolute devotion to her/him.

Mariachi is something like our national sport, and also our national addiction. Hey, who has not sobbed when drunk at some sad Mariachi tune?

Mientras yo estoy dormido 
Sueño que vamos los dos muy juntos 
A un cielo azul.
Pero cuando despierto 
El cielo es rojo, me faltas tú.

(click on the link to see one of our jewels of drama, Lucero, singing this one)

While I am asleep,

I dream that we are walking, very close

Towards the blue sky.

But when I wake up,

The sky is red, I miss you...

I mean how can you not cry, and cut your veins in the process?

Well, I have found an equally dramatic obsessions among my dear Lebanese... Oh man. Lebanese love to relish in drama, as much as we do! And the most exquisite expression of drama is the unmatchable... Fairuz*. I recently was translating one of her tunes during my Arabic class... I felt at home, goose pumps and all. I think I have found my drama "fix" in Lebanon. Look at her, she is brilliantly dramatic!

I loved you in the summer, I loved you in the winter

I waited for you in the summer, I waited for you in the winter

Your eyes are summer, my eyes are rain

Our meeting is left behind the summer and the winter

Some similarities between the two, you think? I'm telling you, I feel at home!

*For all those Lebanese reading this, please do not see this as diminishing Fairuz. How could I? She is the "Ambassador to the Stars" after all.

Smoking in Beirut

2011-02-20T01:42:00.000-08:00

One of the things that always strikes me when I go to Mexico is how much people smoke. Smoking is very much a social exercise, that yes, is very bad for your health, but nevertheless an ever present element in any kind (yes, even family meals) of Mexican social life.

Lebanon is pretty much the same. People smoke everywhere, all the time. Sometimes I wish that there were some bans to smoking indoors and public places-as there surprisingly are in Mexico. My clothes haven't smelled like smoke so bad after going to a bar since I was 16.

But something that we don't have in Mexico that much are arghuilehs. Arghuiles, Narguilehs (or Nargeela in Arabic), Shishas, or Hookahs are these incredible devices, otherwise known as water pipes, that are used pretty much by everybody in Lebanon. You see students and old people, men and women, rich and poor "drinking" arguileh (they don't call it smoking arghuileh, but drinking it) for hours and hours while chatting or playing backgammon.

Arghuilehs were introduced in the 15th century by the Ottomans (however, it's origins are apparently Indian), and it is used traditionally in many places in Africa, Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Asia, and has become trendy recently in other places in the world. I know that in Mexico a friend opened a small bar back in 2002 called "Hookah Lounge" and it is now extremely successful.

In Lebanon, arguilehs are usually made of glass and some are very simple looking, while others extremely elaborate with pompons on the pipe and all. And you can buy little ones, in a box to offer as a gift, or with a "to go" kit, so you can bring your pipe with you, wherever you go. As a matter of fact, I was snowshoeing with some friends last weekend, and on the top of the mountain, two guys were drinking arguileh sitting on plastic chairs!

I think the only problem with arguileh is it's deceivingly healthy smell. I mean, the thing tastes like "grapes" or "green apple". And the smoke that comes out of it smells really nice. And the smoke goes through water... But the reality is that drinking one is the equivalent of smoking one pack of cigarettes... Ouch.

Hiking away

2011-02-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

Here I am once again (like in the song), trying to convey the awesomeness of Lebanon.

If you get a bit bored of the traffic and urban life in Beirut, and going skiing is definitely not an option if you don't want to spend 3 hours seating in traffic, you always have the choice of going hiking.

Yes Lebanon, or Lubnan as you would pronounce it in Lebanese Arabic, comes from the word "lbn" which means "white", a reference to the snow-capped mountains. There are lots of hikes you can do in Lebanon, and this weekend was the first time I went on an organized trip to do one with some friends.

We used Lebtreck , a good company to book some day trips leaving from Beirut to discover Lebanon. I heard that Cyclamen is a good company too, but I have personally not travelled with them.

So the day starts early on Sunday (maybe a deterrent for some), and the first stop is a small shop where you get a Manoushe (best food evaaaaa) before starting your hike. Then you travel on a very, very, very, very (OK, did I convey my discomfort?) narrow road in the mountain till you reach 1000 m of altitude.

As we arrived to the mountain near Jbeil (sorry, I forgot the name) , we discovered, just like that, without any notice, some Greek ruins! I don't know about you, but I personally don't associate Lebanon with Greece. Well, I guess it's time for me to review my history books, since they were here, no doubt about it:

We kept walking and came across some water falls that had muddy water, which at some points looked red. The legend says that the river, called Nahr Ibrahim, turns red because of Adonis' blood, who was killed by a wild boar.

Adonis was in love with Aphrodite/Venus, and there was some pretty cool drama going on there, so I recommend the story. An interesting fact is that Beirut was named after their daughter, Berytos.

After walking for 3 hours, in the mountain, we were all satisfied with the amazing sightseeing, the fresh air, and also our workout (hey, it wasn't easy, believe me, especially not for a city girl like me!).

To close, we had a late lunch at a family's house in a village in the mountain who, for about 10 bucks, cooked for us an amazing meal of rice with chicken (djej w roz), Fatoush (awesome salad with pitta bread), hummus (the real deal), little sausages, and loads of fruit. Knock your socks strong coffee was of course the perfect concluding step to an awesome meal and weekend.

Beauty in chaos

2011-02-05T01:25:00.000-08:00

The term "Cultural activities" engulfs such a vast array of things, that it will take me a long time to describe everything I have seen since I've got here. I mean, culture is composed of the arts, customs, and traditions of a place, and Lebanon is so rich...

I am going to highlight some of my favorite things for starters. This is not an exhaustive list, since a) I have only been here for 6 months, and there are still loads of things to discover and b) many would argue with me that what I am depicting here falls into other categories, such as recreational or entertainment. So please take this as the anecdote of an individual's experience of the "cultural scene" in Lebanon.

I must say that the more I live here, the more I am amazed by the Lebanese refinement, especially in terms of everything that has to do with design. The first thing that caught my eye was interior design. I don't know about you, but I had never seen, in any country in the world, such attention to detail. There are some restaurants where the decor, the plates, and even the waiters outfits match the design of the walls and furniture.

Some examples of places that I personally like a lot from an interior design point of view are the following:

Basma

Source: http://www.beirutnightlife.com/

Cafe Blanc

Source: http://lebrestos.com/Gallery-View

Museums in this area are quite cool too. I mean you can go to places like Byblos or Baalbek that are literally open air museum, with fantastic Roman ruins. However, the National Museum is this gorgeous little hidden jewel near where I live.

It is not very big, but some of the pieces exhibited there are worth the trip. Some pieces come directly from sites such Byblos, and the variety of artifacts you find in it - from the Roman, Byzantine or Arab conquest periods - give you a sense of the richness of Lebanon's history.

Source: http://www.beirutnationalmuseum.com/e-collection-bronze.htm

A place that I have been meaning to visit but haven't, is the Sursock Museum in Achrafieh. I think they specialize in modern art. But what really calls me is the building itself:

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sursock_house.jpg

Which brings me to another topic: architecture. I have seen some gorgeous buildings around here, including, yes, night clubs. Look at my previous posting on Beirut's nightlife to see some very cool clubs, built by the likes of Bernard Khoury, among others.

And something worth noting is the number of Film Festivals in Beirut. I have been to at least 4 of them in the past 6 months, including a German/Russian festival, a Latin American Film Festival and one that had to do with Human Rights recently. A film that I was particularly moved by was the documentary "12 Angry Lebanese" based on the American film "12 Angry Men". The movie is very powerful; it shows the life of 12 Lebanese men who are in prison. The film's musical score was composed by the inmates themselves and is beautiful.

Why did I call my blog post "Beauty in chaos"? I guess that in the midst of political tensions, lots of anxiety, and Beirut's traffic jams, I wanted to remind myself of the beauty this place has to offer. It is very very beautiful. Ktir Helou, as they say here. And I also wanted to remind myself of the beautiful things humans can create instead of focusing on all the harm we can do.

Being afraid is a very bad habit

2011-01-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

I am sure most of you have read something about the political situation in Lebanon. From a governance, historical, political, and social point of view, what we are witnessing in Lebanon is just reaching levels of complexity that few fully understand.

But I am not here to do a situation analysis. The environment in the streets is tense for sure. There are tanks in the corners of the streets, we get security briefings at the office, friends and family send e-mails to check (rightfully so, after reading the news) if we are safe.

We are safe. We are safe. We are safe.

But what is this concept, being safe? What does it mean?

Most of us have it that being safe is a result of circumstances. We are little kids in a confined privileged bubble, where no one can harm us. And we pray no one will come and shatter our safety illusion. Yes, safety is an illusion. Safety is nothing more than a simple illusion of control over our environment, and a way of separating ourselves from others who are "unsafe".
Just ask yourself: Do you feel safe among people who look like you, and unsafe among people who don't? Do you feel safe in familiar environments and unsafe in new territories?

You could argue "But everyone is saying Lebanon (or Mexico for that matter) is unsafe". How can I feel safe in a place where everyone thinks is unsafe?
Well, we can choose to be safe. We can hear all the rumors, gossip and feel the fear and still make a conscious choice of being safe. It is a choice.

The easiest thing we can do right now is being afraid. It is so easy to be afraid. And it is also very easy to be controlled when we are afraid. Do we want to be agents of fear in this world or agents of peace? Because as I can choose to be safe, I can also choose to be peaceful. I can quit that bad habit on mine, of being afraid of others. I can just choose to be OK.

What is this situation in Lebanon, in Mexico, in Tunisia, in Iraq, or in Afghanistan other that one group being afraid of another group?

By the way, I am not minimizing the ability of one person to harm another one. I am not either advocating for putting ourselves in harm's way. I am just saying, let us think clearly, with our eyes open, our feet on the ground, our brain alert, our heart open. This is no time in the world to be afraid and isolated in a cocoon of safety. This is no time to go to our corner and hope that someone "in power" will make it OK.

With our individual actions, we can do something in our everyday lives that will contribute to world's peace. We can smile, be kind, be tolerant, be humble, be willing to learn, be willing to talk to someone who makes us uncomfortable or angry, be willing to give up our right to be right.

I invite us all to take action. A loving, fun or kind action. In Lebanon, in Mexico, in Iraq, everywhere. And to make a resolution of quitting our fear habit. Being afraid is a terrible habit. Why don't we just get used to be safe and peaceful instead? Let's do it everyday, especially today.

Lebanese Top Cat

2011-01-13T23:27:00.000-08:00

I know that everyone must be waiting for a political analysis of what is going on in Lebanon right now. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I do too much of that at work. Today, as I was wondering what to write on my blog, a kitten crossed my path with a French fry on his mouth. It was a sign (and the cutest thing I have seen)! So today’s topic is: Beirut’s cats.

You know how some cities are full of street dogs? Not here. Beirut is full of street cats.
As a matter of fact, in the corner of our house, there are a 3 or 4 green dumpsters where a bunch of cats live in. It’s something like the Lebanese version of Top Cat, that cartoon from the late 70s. In Mexico, we had a far better name for that show, “Don Gato y Su Pandilla”, and it was my absolute favorite.

I have taken upon myself the task of giving names to these cats, since they are - after all- our neighbors and deserve all our respect. So there’s Moustache (a cat with a little black line under his nose), the Blondies (a yellow cat and her 3 kittens), Cinnamon Roll (another yellow/brown cat with crazy circular lines, probably the father), Crasher (a black cat that sleeps inside of our building) and the grey cat that has no name (and whom we thought was a house cat and used to pet him, until we realized that we couldn’t see the dumpster dirt on him because he is grey).

They are pretty good neighbors, since they take care of mice and mind their own business. However, at some point they can be very loud, when they fight or when they, hum, fight in a different way, so then it gets pretty annoying.

The American University of Beirut, or AUB as it is known here, hosts a LOT of cats. It’s actually pretty cool, you have this awesome campus, with wonderful gardens, a spectacular view of the Mediterranean Sea, and loads of lazy cats. They live on campus and make you understand that they were there first. If you want to sit on a bench and there is a cat there already, you can forget it, it won’t move. As a matter of fact AUB launched recently a 2011 calendar to raise awareness and support the welfare of campus’ cats. Very cool.

We usually don’t think of animals as victims of war. But after the war in Lebanon, there were several efforts to take care of street and abandoned animals. One worth mentioning was an initiative in 2006 to send close to 300 cats and dogs for treatment and adoption to the US.
There are sadder chapters on this topic, and barbarism towards animals is still present in Lebanon. However, there are several agencies that take care and advocate for animals as well.

I personally think the cats in my streets are the cutest thing. I can't keep a straight face when I walk pass them and they are fighting to death with a plastic bag. I just wish I could take them all home with me...

It's electrifying!!!

2011-01-09T06:13:00.000-08:00

I remember back in the 80s when I lived in Mexico City, power would sometimes be out for a couple of hours when there were bad thunderstorms. I have actually great memories of those days when at home we would take the candles out, and play cards with my Grandma and Mum until the power came back. Nowadays this is fairly uncommon though.

In Lebanon, however, power cuts are an everyday occurrence. And they are actually quite organized. Each day, power is out for 3 hours, scheduled ahead of time, and the time of the cut varies everyday. As a matter of fact, I have a neat excel spreadsheet on my fridge that tells me everyday from when to when I can't count on having electricity at home. And for those 3 hours, when the power is out, people buy the services of a generator that kicks in as the power goes out and lasts for the time when there's no electricity.

The problem is that when the generator is on, you can't operate as if you had electricity at full capacity. You have to be careful not to blow a fuse by, for instance, drying your hair while having the AC on, or having the TV, the toaster and the iron on at the same time. And you have electricity in you apartment, but when you live in the 6th floor and the elevator is out, you really don't want to get to your place with bags full of groceries...

We have a friend who is a professional who depends on electricity for a living, so he has a generator for his generator in case the first one goes out!

But not everything is lost... With some Lebanese creativity, like in this photo, it is possible to get electricity from somewhere else...

Can you imagine being an electrician and trying to figure this one out?

What I have heard is that in Beirut you loose 3 hours of electricity but in other places in Lebanon the power goes out for much longer periods of time.

So from time to time, we hear on the news that groups of people burn tires on the roads to protest the lack of electrical power in their villages.

At a party last night someone was talking about a 4 year plan that Lebanese Cabinet approved last year to boost the electric capacity of the country, and to supply a more sustainable service. However, the different groups in government haven't agreed on the plan's implementation, so it is likely to be delayed...

Playing cards at candlelight can be fun when you are a kid... But having no electricty everyday can really be a nuisance at best and a business hinderance at worst. Let's really hope that this plan gets implemented, for the benefit of everyone in Lebanon.

Clapping on landings

2010-12-28T11:07:00.000-08:00

For the past couple of months, I have been describing some of the similarities between Mexicans and Lebanese, but this weekend I literally felt at home. Which is weird, since I was flying from Istanbul to Beirut, but home is where one feels it, right?

There are some "realities" in airports about my fellow Mexicans, that I must say, I get a bit embarrassed about. Call me a snob, but when you are boarding a direct flight from JFK to Mexico City a week before Christmas, you will know exactly what I am talking about.

Well, guess what? The Lebanese flying from Istanbul are exactly the same. It made me feel slightly relieved to see that Mexicans are not the only ones beautifully rude on airplanes.

Some of the commonalities I see are:

1. The fly attendant calls people in zone 1 to board the plane. Everyone is trying to get ahead in 2 or 3 lines (one official, 2 unofficial), or stands very close to the gate entrance, no matter what zone they are in.

2. The number of packs that people are carrying is definitely more than one. And they clearly do not fit in the little "see if your carry-on fits in here" sign.

3. When you get to your aisle seat, there will inevitably be someone seating already there. The person will a) look at you and then offer a million apologies or b) pretend s/he doesn't understand why you have the same seat, and then "realize" s/he is actually in the middle seat or c) act lost and disoriented.

4. The seatbelt sign is completely optional during take off, landing and taxi.

5. If there isn't any room on your overhead compartment, then you can fit one bag on your side, one in front, and one two rows behind you.

6. If you need something from your overhead compartment, you take it, right when you need it. It doesn't matter if the attendant is coming with the meals cart or the person below is asleep (and gets your belly in his/her face).

7. When the plane stops, you run forward, even if that means just advancing a couple of steps, and end all crammed up in awkward positions between two people, one of whom has an arm trapped in the back row.

8. My absolutely favourite one: If the pilot landed the plane, you clap and cheer!!!

Two things I had never seen in a plane before though:

9. The smoking ban apparently doesn't apply to everyone in Lebanon (and you get into a fight with the flight attendant if s/he calls you on it).

10. Flying nannies and body guards come too and must exit before everyone (it must have been a big shot flying on the plane, since 2 rows in economy class were dedicated to the entourage).

The Paris of the Middle East? It’s more like Switzerland!

2010-12-22T09:22:00.000-08:00

I was seriously getting resigned to the fact that winter in Beirut was just going to be an extension of the Fall. I mean it was cool-ish the other day, but after Boston’s harsh winters, I was like “OK, Lebanon, is this all you’ve got?”

A Lebanese friend who lives abroad was in town last weekend and she told me about this great restaurant in the mountains where you can see the snow and eat fondue, one hour away from Beirut. We decided to check it out. But in the back of my mind, I was asking myself, “C’mon, how cold can it actually get an hour from here??” (it was like 60F/15C in Beirut that day).

How wrong I was! After an hour drive on a seriously steep road (I wonder if the Lebanese pray for their life when they drive here on the mountain roads. I most certainly do) we got to this breathtaking area near the mountaintops. Seriously, it was ridiculously beautiful. Snow everywhere (Talj in Arabic), and a gorgeous view of the ocean. Can it get any better?

The restaurant, Le Montaignou, looks like a Swiss chalet, with a cozy atmosphere, wooden tables, laid back service and delicious mountain food (i.e. French onion soup, fondue, sausages and mash potatoes…). And there are windows in all walls, so you can enjoy the view while eating your meal and relaxing. The views are perfect for corny pictures to send back to your parents, the ones that say “Look how happy I am, Ma!”

After our meal we decided to sneak-a-pick at Faraya, the famous sky resort that all trendy people go to. Again, after seeing the ski slopes in the States or France, I wasn’t expecting much. Again... wrong! These ski slopes look not bad at all and the day passes are not too expensive. The Lebanese do not shy away from showing off their snowboarding skills or their expensive gear. I guess I’ll have to ditch my good old red fleece and trade it for something a little fancier…

Anyways, it looks like some serious skiing awaits us this season after all!!

Winter in Beirut

2010-12-13T10:07:00.001-08:00

Winter finally arrived to Lebanon this weekend. And it literally went from 26 degrees and sunny on Wednesday to 10 degrees and rainy on Sunday. The rain and thunderstorms have been crazy as well (and with the pre-Christmas shoppers out on the weekend, the traffic has been out of this world).

Fun fact: in Arabic, the word for “rain” sounds like the word “shitty”. So when it is “shitty” out, there’s “shitty” in Lebanon !

In English there’s this expression “It’s raining cats and dogs”, which makes me smile. Imagine the visual! But there is some truth to it in Beirut, since in my part of town, I can hear the street cats’ terrified meows every time lighting strikes.

The sewage system in Lebanon isn’t great to begin with, so during rainy times, it’s beautiful to see small rivers form everywhere in the Achrafieh hills, with some pretty ponds forming spontaneously at the bottom of the street. But unfortunately, you won’t see any fish in those; only a couple of floating bottles is you get lucky.

I thought the garbage hadn’t been collected by mistake (or lack of resources) and this was the cause of this hydraulic mess, but my Lebanese friend confirmed that trash was collected only after the first rain, since it will all be gathered on the sewage at the bottom of the hill anyways. Why the double effort? This is a perfect example of Man and Nature working hand in hand (isn’t that just brilliant?).

Since last weekend, the Lebanese ladies have been showing off their winter outfits, stylish as ever, with an elegance equal to any Parisian’s walking down the Champs Elyses. However it is only 10 degrees here, not -5, so the hats and gloves look a bit out of place. Mind you, in Mexico it isn’t any different. The slightest cold front is an excellent excuse to bring out the fur.

After spending 6 years in Boston, I must say that I sort of welcome this slight change of season. After all, it feels weird to do your Christmas shopping wearing a tank top. So I raise my (premature?) mug of hot cocoa to Beirut’s cool weather.

Survival driving

2010-12-04T04:35:00.000-08:00

As a person coming from "DF", as Mexico City is called in Mexico, I have always been proud of my driving skills. You can put me in a traffic jam, with 1 million other cars trying all to get in a one way street, and I will manage to wiggle my room in, without a scratch.

I also have other great skills when I drive, such as eating a full meal (including cereal) without spilling anything or crashing my car, having meaningful conversations (with eye contact on crucial moments so you feel heard), and putting make up on (although there seems to be an indirect correlation between the number of red lights you get and the urgency you have to put your make up on).

But the thing I have always boasted about was my ability to keep my cool. No, no, road rage is for others, not for me. I have always told myself in the car catchy lines such as "We all need to get to the same place", "I am in a hurry because I was late", or "The car in front of me is a reminder to slow down". Breath in, breath out, mantra CD, all is well, I am a happy driver.

Not in Beirut.

I have discovered this merciless beast in me in the streets of Beirut. While facing mopeds that come on the left, on the right, from the back AND on opposite directions (sometimes in highways), and trying to fight my way into a one way street at the same time than the car that is coming towards me, I find myself insulting drivers and their mothers, advancing bumper to bumper so cars won't pass, saying "Yeah, right, in your dreams", and avoiding eye contact with fellow drivers in shared guilt. I don't recognize myself.

But what I can't get over is the fact that the smile DOESN'T WORK in Beirut. In Mexico, I always make eye contact with the driver I want to pass and smile. It always works!! In Beirut, the driver smiles back, sustains eye contact while s/he jams on the accelerator not to let you pass. It's priceless.

So to all my fellows "defenios", all of us who smile to foreigners and say "If you drive in DF you can drive anywhere", allow me to correct you: nope, it's far worst in Beirut. No traffic jams in DF compares the craziness of the streets of Beirut. No DF driver will have the guts to do the tricks I have seen drivers do in Beirut. The rule here is "if there's space, I go in first".

Night life

2010-11-16T00:46:00.000-08:00

Something I didn't know about Beirut when I got here was how active and exciting nightlife actually is in the city.

My husband and I have gone out again as if we were 25 (but unfortunately the following morning is much rougher than back then...) and discovered some of the great clubs of the city.

I must say that going out in Beirut is similar to the Mexican nightlife from the late 80s and 90s in the sense that what is cool is to go to the club, reserve a table, order a bottle (not a glass) of your spirit of choice and people-watch.

The ladies in Lebanon are insanely done up, with beautifully revealing clothing, lots of jewelry and make up and a totally jet setter attitude. Guys are definitely into jet-setting too, displaying some insanely big watches, and driving cars that you only see in James Bond movies.

My jeans and I usually get a bit self conscious at some point during the night...

Something I had only seen in Acapulco (one of Mexico's party centrals) is the whole sparkler show followed by a line of waiters when someone orders a bottle of champagne for the whole club to see. You gotta love it.

Following, a brief review of some of the places that I have been to, but that do not constitute an exhaustive list, since I haven't gotten the chance, nor the energy to visit all the nightclubs yet.

B018 comes to mind as the coolest place I have visited. Built by the famous architect Bernard Khoury, this place was built on the site of a massacre, so it is shaped like a coffin. This is a rather underground scene, where people go after hours. The 80s night on Thursdays is a-ma-zing. And the ceiling opens so you can party under the stars. Really cool.

White is a place where DJs like Paul Oakenfold have played. This is a place to go to over the summer, as it is open air. The ambiance is rather chic, but people definitely let themselves go to the very good electronic music.

Fly is owned by our friend, and is also a cool summer bar to go to have a drink and enjoy the open air night life in Beirut. The music is more laid back, playing pop and rock and the volume refreshingly lower, which is rare in bars in Beirut where you usually can't hear what other people are saying (OK, did I sound too old there?).

Myu is a cool bar in the Gemmayzeh district, that my friend calls the fishbowl, since the whole front is a giant glass, so you can look at the people inside from the street. Excellent cocktails, laid back music, with some napking-throwing at some points during the night to the great excitement of patrons.

And the Sky Bar, where everyone wants to go, the place to be in Beirut. I must confess that the view of the Mediterranean is quite spectacular and the fireworks at midnight are mind blowing. This is a place where you have to be dressed to the nines to get in, that is if you get in. The sound is pretty monstrous although the resident DJ is not as good as DJs I have heard in other places. And rumor has it that the Saudis fly for the night to Beirut just to spend it at the Sky Bar.

This doesn't count all the amazing restaurants we have visited. I will leave those for another time. Plus there are the clubs that only open during the winter that I haven't been to.

But for the time being, I hope this review encourages you to visit us. Let the party begin!

Going the distance

2010-11-15T22:32:00.000-08:00

If you live in Lebanon for a while you start getting used to the metal barriers.

These metal barriers are the ones that you see for "crowd control" I guess in other parts of the world, but in Lebanon there is usually a guard with some sort of rifle (I am sure it's more like a machine gun) standing next to them.

These barriers are at the entrance of official buildings, all over the place in downtown, in some roads when you drive, on sidewalks, in military posts on highways...

When I just got here I remember not knowing what to do with them: Do you stop? Do you avoid them? Does it mean it's dangerous? Do you ignore them?

After being here for a while, I have gotten used to them, they are just there, dividing areas, separating people, stopping traffic and pedestrians, or keeping "undesirable" people at bay.

Last week, I ran a 10 K race that was part of Beirut's International Marathon. There were thousands of people in this event, and lots of barriers directing the race. The difference this time was that we were all inside of the barriers. It was crowded, believe me. But for the first time I witnessed a true mix of Beirutis of all ages, genders, income levels and religious backgrounds.

That day I realized how separated I had been from everyone. How enclosed life has been since I arrived here. How exclusive I turned these metal barriers, and as a result how I have built mental barriers to justify my separation from the others, to be safe.

That day at the race I was squeezed and pushed, but I also got to see, feel, and laugh with everyone around me. I was uncomfortable, yes, but I wasn't unsafe. It was just a bunch of people standing there, hanging out on a Sunday morning. And the only distance that day was the one we had to run. We were cheering one another, drinking water under the scorching sun, suffering on the uphill together...

I really understood that Beirut is just a city like any other, where a bunch of people live, work, get together, die. This place is not unsafe. I make it unsafe with this distance I place between me and others, with all these barriers in my head.

I think it's time to see beyond them

Succession

2010-10-30T06:41:00.000-07:00

One of the benefits of learning a new language is that you gain the ability to view the world differenty. I was in my Arabic (Lebanese) class last week, and I learnt some interesting things about family and succession.

The first thing is that everyone has their Dad’s first name as their middle’s name. Like my Dad’ s name is Guillermo, so in Lebanon I am Maria Guillermo Ortiz.

Another thing I thought was interesting was that if you ask someone about their neighbor Joe you wouldn’t say: “Hey, how’s your neighbor Joe doing?”. This is considered disrespectful. You would actually say “Hey’ how your neighbor, Jack’s Dad doing?”, since Joe has a son named Jack.

Also, there are 3 ways of saying “man”: Rajol, Zalame and Rijjel. And one way to say woman: Mara. And a girl and a daughter is the same word: bent. But a boy is sabi and a son is ibn.

Language is a reflection of the culture, and the emphasis on fatherhood, and “sonhood” is very clear in Lebanese Arabic. But what really blew me away was when I learned that women cannot pass their nationality to their kids or spouses in Lebanon. Only men can do that. So if you are born from a Lebanese man or you marry him, you can be Lebanese, but if your Mum is Lebanese and your Dad isn’t, then you are not Lebanese.

One interpretation of this can be political, since this is a way to control religious “proportions” of the population. Lebanon is managed through a very complex system, called a confessional system, where each religious group has control over certain parts of government and decision-making, depending on their numbers. So in this context, not making foreign men Lebanese would make sense.

But some women are opposing this tradition and starting a movement in Lebanon to change it. International Organizations are supporting them. Check out these links to learn more about the issue:

http://tinyurl.com/2f6zv3q

http://tinyurl.com/nskaru

http://lebanon-support.org/tatimma/?q=node/14

Sorry, this table is reserved

2010-10-24T07:07:00.000-07:00

Dinner in Lebanon doesn’t start till 9pm. For those of us who like to eat a bit earlier, it is common to enter a restaurant at 7:30 and find it empty.

However, do not be fooled: an empty restaurant doesn’t mean there are open seats. An empty restaurant means that some very specific people haven’t arrived yet.

Let me explain this a bit further: you come to a restaurant, no one is there. You ask for the table in the corner (I love corners) and they tell you it’s reserved. You then get a table in the middle (ugh), and after 2 hours of a lovely meal, you realize that the table in the corner is still empty.

I have 2 theories on this: a) The person who reserved the table didn’t show up or b) you can reserve a table and get to the restaurant eventually.

Option b) would be the most appropriate since the Lebanese (as the Mexicans, I’m not singling out anyone here) are not particularly punctual. But from a business perspective, this makes no sense. How can you have a table open for 2 hours, and not give it to someone else?

The best is when you get to a restaurant, and it is completely empty. You get the crappy table and when you leave, the restaurant is still completely empty. I am clearly missing something here.

PS: I would be very interested in hearing a Lebanese explain this point. This affair of reserved seating remains a mystery to me to this date.

Lebanese Yumminess

2010-10-10T06:42:00.001-07:00

I can't believe I have been here for 2 months and I haven't written anything about food!

I must say that Lebanese cuisine is varied, absolutely delicious and on the healthy side. The incredibly fresh vegetables that are used, combined with olive oil and spices are a much needed break for me from the butter/salt combo from the States.

Besides the well known falafel and hummus that are pretty much the same as you would find all over the world, I have discovered slight differences from what I knew before, for instance, that in Lebanon tabouleh has no bulgur and baba ganoush is also called "mutabbal".

I must confess I had love at first bite with mankoushe which some call the Lebanese pizza, which is a think crust of oven-baked dough with za'atar and cheese, or lamb meat on it, that is sold for 1,750 L.L ($1.25 USD) at the corner of my street and makes for a delicious breakfast or snack.

I also absolutely love Fatoush (which doesn't make you fat by the way), a simple but super tasty salad.

And one can't forget the delicious Shawarma, which is a pitta bread sandwich made of lamb, beef or chicken grilled on a spit (like "al pastor", for Mexicans) with garlic mayo and french fries inside. Perfect after a night out.

But Lebanese cuisine goes far more than these rather simple dishes, and I have tasted very interesting combination of ingredients such as Shishbarak (meat pastries in yogurt soup) or Djaj mah Ruz (chicken over rice with pine nuts and a ton of spices, often served with laban, or yogurt).

For the desserts... forget it. I could write pages and pages about them. They are absolutely delicious. Baklava is the one that almost everyone knows, but there are many others.

There are tons of other amazing dishes I have tasted, but to be honest, I don't remember their names... So next time you go to a Lebanese restaurant, try some of these more elaborate dishes. You will not regret it!

Or maybe, if you are feeling adventurous, you can try cooking? A friend got me in the States a book that is pretty close to the real deal, called "A taste of Lebanon" by Mary Salloum.

Sahtayn! To your good health!

Hi! Kifik, tu vas bien?

2010-10-03T02:48:00.000-07:00

Living in Beirut is listening to multiple languages everyday, French and Lebanese (Arabic) being the most common ones, although a lot of people know English as well.

What is fascinating is that the all people you encounter will speak a different combination of languages, depending on where you are in the city, or where they come from.

In Hamra, you'll hear Arabic, and English the closer you get to AUB (the American University of Beirut)

I Ashrafieh, you'll hear Arabic and French, and English the closer you get to ABC (the mall).

What I love about the Lebanese is that they use all the languages they know interchangeably when speaking, because the person they are talking to also understands perfectly well, so there is no need to make an effort to stick to one. And the more languages they know the more they'll use.

So if you have the good fortune of knowing one or maybe 2 of the languages they speak, conversations sound like this:

At a party 2 girlfriends are talking, "Yesterday, blah, blah, blah, blah, black leather, blah, blah, blah, blah, I told him, blah, blah, blah, blah, I like it very much." (turns out they were talking about a new car)

At the office, "Hi dear, blah, blah, blah, no way, blah, blah, blah OK, blah blah, khalas. Thank you. Yalla bye"

At the Yoga studio. "Hi!!! Blah blah blah?" Very cute! Blah blah blah blah blah in ABC, blah blah blah blah, half price."

There are some words like Mabrouk! (Congratulations), Sukran (Thank you) or Marhaba (Hi!) that you'll start using as a foreigner, as a way to integrate yourself and not sound absolutely clueless.

And inevitably all Lebanese will sprinkle their conversations with the following 3 absolutely transferable words, no matter what language they are speaking in or who they are talking to: "Yalla" (very similar to the Spanish "Vamos"), Ya3ni (Very similar to the English "I mean") and Khalas (that can mean "That's it", or "stop", or "finished", or "allow me").

So... shukran for reading. A bientot. Yalla, bye

Bang-Bang-Bang

2010-09-25T06:34:00.000-07:00

This morning I was woken up by a crazy thunderstorm. I didn't quite understand what those loud bangs were at first. Were those fireworks? At 7 am??

Nope, just the beginning of the rainy season.

I must say that Lebanon is a very "explosive" country. I have heard more fire works in the past two months than in my entire life.

Also, I have heard gun shots for the first time in my life, which by the way, sound a lot like fireworks, except there is - quoting my Lebanese friend- a different rythm to them (isn't this just a totally poetic view of life?).

Fire works go bang (count 1,2,3) bang (1,2,3), bang (1,2,3).

Gun shots go bang-bang-bang-bang-bang (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8) bang-bang-bang (silence) bang.

But the most common explosions are not the auditory, but the human ones.

Laughter, loud, sincere, unashamed laughter.

Anger, loud, aggressive, impulsive shouting, pushing, banging.

Kisses (3 loud ones each time to say hello and bye).

Loss, so deeply rooted and concelaed it is obvious, especially when vivid memories are recounted with hollow eyes, and a hole in the middle of your chest when you hear them

Pleasure, with eating, drinking and smoking, a lot and often

I am sometimes surrounded, engulfed, by these explosions of emotion, left sometimes a little disoriented, in my head and also in my heart. Such intensity of feelings. I need time to get my bearings. And then another wave comes.

In Lebanon people have seen horrors I can't even imagine. And their resilience is incredible. Someone was explaining to me the meaning of the Lebanese flag: red for the blood shed, white for the snow on the mountains, and a beautiful cedar tree, to symbolize resilience.

Sometimes I feel like a winy little kid who needs to get tough, so I get to play with the older kids. Or a naive little girl, who hasn't lived. My sorrows seems small. My concerns sometimes petty. What do you say when someone shares an experience? I haven't found the words. I just listen.

I have encountered in Lebanon a pride I have not seen often. A desire to survive and prosper, no matter what. And all these feelings too, on the surface, ready to explode, with just a scratch...

How do you keep your sanity, how do you cope? With explosions. Explosions of fireworks, parties, love, food, abundance, joie de vivre, intensity, intensity, intensity. To feel alive. To feel something.

The "right kind"

2010-09-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

I am very pleased to find out that some Lebanese people are reading my blog. I even found out that one of my blog posts inspired another blogger to write something about kindness and how some think Lebanese are only kind to the right kind of people.

The "right kind" is a fascinating (not to say delusional) concept that human beings have developed to refer to the people that a) look like them or b) they wish they looked like them (i.e. we all agree Cristiano Ronaldo and Angelina Jolie are the right kind no matter what we look like).

Jokes aside, I have heard from my Lebanese friends and also from expats that there is a widespread racism among Lebanese against the "wrong kind": domestic workers, people who from South East Asia and people from African descent. Like a cast system. You look a certain way, you are not allowed some places, you are discriminated upon, you are treated like a second class citizen.

To comment on the topic, I want to highlight that in Mexico we have the same thing for anyone who isn't fair skinned, so the Lebanese are not really innovating here. And to be fair, this racism is not particular to the Lebanese or to Mexicans. Just ask a Muslim woman in France how she is feeling right now...

What I want to point out to in this blog is how ridiculous, subjective, and completely detached from reality the whole "right" and "wrong" kind is. To me, these categories are just the visible symptoms of the absolute insecurity and sense of worthlessness of the ones who made them (i.e. I make you little because I feel little). Plus, this putting people in categories business can make anyone go bananas, just by travelling across the world... No matter where I go, there will always be a wrong kind... But I was actually very surprised when I moved to Lebanon and suddenly became the "right kind" after living in the United States and being the wrong kind for years (I am a dark-haired-darkish-skinned Mexican).

What changed? I kept asking... Did I loose weight?? Is it my new haircut?? I am still wondering...

On a personal note, I can only say that this was a lesson for me to stop thinking about what people think of me. Who cares if they think I am the right or wrong kind anyways??

And on a humankind note, I would like to add that we, as people, should stop being so effing shallow. People look the way they look. I can't certainly help looking the way I look. Can you?

I invite us to just get over ourselves and focus on far more productive discussions. Such as: if you see someone being discriminated upon in Lebanon, or elsewhere, don't keep your mouth shut. It could be you next time...

Random Acts of Kindness

2010-09-15T06:25:00.000-07:00

There is something very intriguing about hospitality in Lebanon. I mean hospitality here is taken to a whole different level.

I am sure I could do a historical, sociological, or psychological analysis of the whole thing, but I really don't feel like it. I have been doing way too much reading today. So I will just stick to my experience this time.

Since I got to Lebanon I have been surrounded my random acts of kindness. Here are some examples:
I am sitting outside of the building where my yoga class takes place. I am reading a book, standing by the door. The concierge approaches me and offers me to come in and seat on his chair. When I do this, he brings me a coffee. Then he leaves (this is without words, I don’t speak his language, he doesn’t speak mine).

Other examples: I am in a taxi; the driver doesn't have any change. He tells me I can leave, without paying (impossible scenario in NYC!). I am in another taxi, the driver asks me if I am comfortable, and whether I prefer window or AC (yeah right Boston cabs). I am out with friends, someone pays for my whole meal without me even knowing the person that well. When I offer to pay the person categorically refuses. I am in the street, waiting for a cab, next to a guy who is waiting for a cab too. A cab comes, he doesn’t take it but lets me go instead and helps me negotiate a price… I can go on.

The most interesting part is my reaction to the whole thing: first mistrust kicks in ("what do you want from me?"). Second, paranoia ("Am I about to get robbed?"). Third comes skepticism ('yeah, how much is THAT going to cost?"). Then comes doubt ("Naaaah, this is not right. Am I being too naive?"). Finally, vanity ("Is this guy hitting on me?")

When I think about it, I realize that I have become so accustomed to look out for myself that I find it difficult to accept with an open heart these random acts of kindness. Could it be that people are just being kind? Could it be that I could just stop "being careful" without fearing for my life?

I feel the barrier dissolve and me accepting this kindness. Then I get scared and I put it right back up. Then I relax, then it comes up...

But I can't simply ignore the fact that in Lebanon people are just incredibly welcoming and warm, regardless of what goes on in my head.

Uncertainty

2010-09-09T05:30:00.001-07:00

I have found that as I get older, my ability to tolerate uncertainty diminishes. I want to know what the plan is, how long the trip will take, the time when we are having lunch, exactly how much is left in the bank account, stuff like that (my lovely husband made a little song for me called "OCD" recently).

In Lebanon, there is a high degree of tolerance for uncertainty, though. Or so it seems for someone who lived in boston for 6 years. There is a "we'll know when we get there" kind of mentality. In Mexico, this is called the "alli se va" or the "cuando lleguemos a ese puente lo cruzamos" mindset.

Recenlty, this was perfectly exemplified for me around a particular holiday. I was happily PLANNING my week on Monday, when a colleague brought to my attention that we would have a free day either Thursday or Friday. When I asked her what this depended on she answered with a perfectly serious face "it depends on the moon".
I wasn't expecting that one.

So, on Wednedsay night, around 9 pm, I get a text from my buddy from HR telling me that the free day was Friday, not Thursday. The message was appended with a "PS: pass the message along".

A gazillion questions came to mind such as how can you plan a vacation?, what happenes if you didn't get the text? If you show up and the office is closed? etc.

But now when I think about it (and as I prepare to take my long weekend!), ultimately this "uncertainty" didn't matter. No natural disaster. No tragedy. No major loss of any kind. I just couldn't plan my week. I just had to show up to work on Thursday...

On a side note: I must confess my absolute and total ignorance on the determination of muslim holidays, that do depend on moon cycles. Thanks to my knowledgeable colleague from work, I am better prepared for this next time. Here is a link if you want to find out more about this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islamic_calendar

Gratitude

2010-09-05T02:30:00.001-07:00

I had never lived in a place where religion was so ever present. For example, I was walking in the mall the other day, and when I looked at the store directory, I noticed there was a Praying Room. In the mall. From my office you can see the blue dome of a gorgeous mosque. In Hamra, men seating in the street corners gently pass their beads through their fingers. And when I walk around Achrafieh, on the Christian side, I see churches all over, cemeteries with huge marble angels, schools and parks named after saints and all this to the sound of bells ringing…

This is the month of Ramadan. During the scorching sun and heat of August some colleagues choose not to eat and drink the whole day. To be reminded of what’s sacred for them. Stores close, people take leave from work… It creates a very special atmosphere.

I must say my absolute favorite is the Call to Prayer. Every day, 5 times a day, the beautiful voice of the muezzin (the man whose voice leads the call) reminds you to pray.

Fajr, between dawn and sunrise.

Zuhr, just after the height of the midday sun.

Asr in the afternoon.

Maghrib, just after sunset.

Isha during the evening.

In Beirut, I am reminded of where the sun is everyday, and also, I am reminded that there is something much bigger than me and my mundane activities. And I can’t help but feeling grateful for being here and being reminded. It definitely puts things in perspective.

Where the streets have no name

2010-09-05T02:25:00.000-07:00

After having lived in and visited cities around the world, I can argue that the layout of a city is a good representation of not only the personality of the place, but also the personality of the people who live in it.

And to find your way around Beirut, you just can’t use the same strategy you would use in any other city in the world. Way finding in Beirut is an art that requires observation, memory and creativity. It is spontaneous. Unpredictable.

A sign on the street corner will give you absolutely no clue as of where you are (unless you have memorized the numbers of the city sectors). And many times, the streets have no name at all. And houses sometimes have no numbers either.

“How do you find your way around Beirut?” you might ask yourself.

Through landmarks.

So naturally, streets have no name, but buildings do. In a system where you find your way through landmarks, this makes perfect sense.

“Take a right at Chilli’s, then go down, in the corner you will see a hair salon, then take a left and I am in the So and So building, next to the pharmacy” told me a friend when he invited me to his place.

“Drop me by the Starbucks in Hamra” you will tell the cab driver.

When I first got here, I was quite puzzled. “This can’t work, this is a mess!” I told myself. But then in conversation with a very wise Lebanese friend, everything became clear.

She said “ You see, in America, you are in your car, you have your map, you find your way by yourself. In Beirut, you have to ask people. So we have to talk to others, because we need each other. It forces us to talk”.

A place that forces you to talk to others. How beautiful is that?

You got a good number I hope?

2010-08-23T11:33:00.000-07:00

My husband and I were shopping for mobile phones at the store the other day. When we were about to activate them, the seller asked me if I wanted a $200 number or a $25 one. When I asked what the difference was, he looked at me with an “Are you kidding me?” look and said “Well the $200 one is a good number, the other one is a bad number”.

To his surprise, I chose the bad number. “Who cares?”, I told myself. “It is just a number after all. “

A couple of days later, I was hanging out with my new Lebanese friends, and announced triumphantly that I had gotten a new phone. To this, my friend says, “You got a good number, I hope? The 71 numbers are crap”.

Sight… I got a 71 number.

A couple of days later, I start getting calls from a number I don’t recognize. It starts with 01 (a good one). After the third call, I pick up the phone. A man asks me “Do you want to buy this good number?”

And now, when I look at my cellphone, I can’t help but asking myself “Did I just commit social suicide by getting a bad number? Have I fallen down the echelons of good respectable people together with my 71 number??”

Note: when you get a Black Berry here, you can only get a good number. When I was told this, I refused out of principle to fall into the scam and got an LG instead. I should have thought about this twice…

“It’s 10,000 during Ramadhan”

2010-08-20T08:35:00.000-07:00

I would like to open this blog on a topic that most new comers have to confront from the time they step out of the airport: taxis. Cab drivers in Beirut have an acute sense for recognizing people who are not from around here (although sometimes it is so evident you are not from here that the driver doesn’t need any particular talent to know you are totally clueless).

The key to taxi success in Beirut is to understand that a regular cab can either be a “taxi” or a “service” (pronounced sehrveece). “Taxi” means basically that you have the cab for yourself. “Service” means that once you get in the car, you eventually get to your destination, but the driver will slow down at every intersection and emit a discrete “beep-beep” to collect other fellow passengers until they fill all 5 seats.

Now, what is very important to know is that in Beirut, your “taxi” ride can cost pretty much anything the driver feels like charging you (if they take out a printed “official” rate, it’s still baloney).

However, there is a happy consensus that “service” will cost regularly 2,000 LL (about a $1.50). So, as a foreigner, you are stuck with $10 rides, telling yourself “Boy, this is expensive.”, till you discover “Service”. And by the way, service and taxi is exactly the same car.

On a side note, one of my favourite things is that when a taxi stops and you a) ask for service or b) are going to a place they are not going to, they will either turn their head without a word and drive off, or insult you a little bit.

But coming back to my initial point about the driver’s 6th sense on foreigners… Unfortunately, knowing the real taxi or service rates will not save you from some skillful techniques to rip you off anyways. Some of my favorite examples:

“It’s 10,000 during Ramadhan”

“Hey, Bibi, can you give me $10 for gas?”

“No, not 10,000, it’s 10 dollars”

“10 dollars, with leather seats and A/C”