Pyjamas in Beirut

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

Therefore, part of my very mundane activities this week was pyjamas shopping. Hey, the old T-shirt old leggings combo won't cut it in this weather.  I need something really warm 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 alone blogging material. My plan was to leave work, swing by the mall, spend 30 minutes max in the pyjama store,  go home. One hour and a half and 5 stores later, I left the mall empty handed. Confused. And exhausted.

It seems like I fall into a non-existent category of pyjama wearers 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 allowed to wear ANY Disney piece of clothing. Not even Pyjamas.
• I do not wear lace or satin to bed. Call me boring, but that stuff 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 no place in a Pyjama's top. The people who design those clearly didn't wear them to bed.
• I do not wear dresses to bed. I know you call them night gowns. It doesn't matter. That's a dress. And if you ever were unlucky enough to have your grandma give you one for your birthday and had to wear it, and cursed every morning when you had it all curled up around your neck, you know what 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 touch of 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 relevant to me.

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

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

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

Christmas Kitsch

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

"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

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

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

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

There are so many things that I would like to write about 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 the experience was overall very positive.

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

Some very unusual things happened that day:

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

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

3) All Lebanese came together to run all throughout Beirut

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

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

I had the chance to run in some of the neighborhoods 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 Marathon is one of the hardest in the world because it is very lonely. Indeed, there aren't many people cheering on the sidelines, because no one really stops to see you (besides your very kind friends who generously spend their Sunday passing you water bottles). So it gets boring and you need to self motivate a lot (thankfully my hubbie was by my side all the time!) Also, there were some drivers who, believe it or not, defiantly drive on the closed roads, which makes the experience annoying at times and infuriating at others! 

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

Forgiving Beirut

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

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

Have I become more aggressive since I moved to Beirut?

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

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

Wikipedia tells us: "Aggressive behavior is a behavior which is intended to increase the social dominance of the organism relative to the dominance position of other organisms"

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

There have been events in Beirut where I have felt the 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 about gunfire, car bombs, and massacres in neighboring countries. But I was usually able to calm myself down. I was usually able to take a deep breath. Not in Beirut. The guns of my mind come out very quickly here.

Is it the constant noise and car honking, is it the reckless driving? Is it the lack of rules, people cutting in line, the ladies followed by their maids, carrying their bags? Is it the mistrust between people of different religions, the unkindness that people show to one another? Is it all the street animals, the children begging in the street? The men staring 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 and highly subjective realm, the realm of feelings. And I just can’t help these feelings. They are there, like dormant snakes, ready to bite if someone steps on them.

Do I need to grow a thicker skin in Beirut, in order 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. It is 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 baklava with a huge wooden spoon, even when you are full already. Some times, it can be delicious, but some others it just too much to get in one bite.