Lebanese Precautions

Let's face it: welcoming 2014 with a bomb was not exactly starting the year on a positive note.

And this means naturally that security is tighter everywhere in Lebanon. It means that when you enter the supermarket parking lot, your hood, trunk and car bottom will be checked. It means that when you step into an official building, you will go through the metal detector or have a security guard swipe next to your bag that little thing that looks like a cricket paddle that beeps (sorry, I don't know the exact technical name). It means that when you go to the mall, it feels like you are about to board an international flight (empty your pockets, put your things in a little tray, etc.). So if you go to the movies, get there 2 hours in advance...

It also means you get text messages on your phone asking you to avoid this and that area, telling you to step away from balconies, advising you to avoid unecesary movements (does that include the dance floor?), and informing you through lenghty descriptions of every single incident that happened in the country. We can't travel North, we can't travel South, we can't go East, and West, well, it's the sea.
So, it seems like the only safe place left in Lebanon is my couch with my cat (under a blanket, because it's freezing... ahem, for Lebanon's standards).

I get it, I get, we need to be careful, vigilant and on guard.

But honestly, there are some security measures that I just don't get... Such as the tank in front of the mall.

Are we really expecting a full military operation there?

And what's up with the security personel and their little antenas to detect bombs in parking lots?

Source: ABC News

Come on guys, even I (not exactly a security expert) know that those don't work! It's even on Wikipedia!

In a tense environment like the one we are living in Lebanon, it is important to remain vigilant. But we shouldn't live in a state of total paranoia. The best thing one can do is to stay alert. And if everything else fails, I will follow my Dad's words of wisdom (applicable to any situation, including dates): "If something doens't feel right honey, you just run in the opposite direction".

PS: Little musical bonus if you think you are paranoid...

Mexican lies, Lebanese lies?

An inherent part of traveling is comparison. I know I shouldn't, but in a recent trip to Mexico, I couldn't help comparing my country with my current home, Beirut.

Maybe this comparison derives naturally from the fact that most people I meet in Mexico ask me at some point during the conversation "How are things in Beirut?". In order to give a quick answer and not to fall into a lengthy debate, I try to put things into context.

Like the fact that 1.17 million Syrians arriving to Lebanon in the past 2 years is like 25 million people arriving to Mexico in the same amount of time. Or like when an article in the newspaper says there was a bomb in Lebanon, the event occurs for the most part in very specific locations (for the time being), just like most drug-related violence in Mexico occurs in key states in the country.

I wonder if these comparisons are not only a way of simplifying a complex matter to someone who is not familiar with the Lebanese context or my new way to tell people that things are not as bad as they sound. In deed, I have recently developed a need to tell people this, that things are not as bad as they sound.

Probably to make myself believe it.

But interestingly enough, I have been doing the same thing in Lebanon, when people ask me about Mexico. I talk about the positive things, describe beautiful landscapes and present violence and abuse as isolated incidents, and not part of every day life.

Is this lying?

I tell myself that I have some wiggle room when describing "the situation" in Lebanon or in Mexico, since it is unclear at what point car bombs, executions, or kidnappings become an every day fact of life (if they ever do). I mean, there is violence both in Lebanon and Mexico every day, but don't we want to believe that these are in fact unusual, isolated events? Doesn't this rationalization somehow make our anxiety (angoisse, as the French say) easier to bare?

I think this is why when we read the news, we hear the account of events (it is hard to say "facts" at this point) and the corresponding political, economic or social analysis. But we rarely hear people talk about their fear.

However, this fear is very real to me lately. I feel it in the pit of my stomach every time I hear "Lebanon" in the news. I feel it when I leave the country (what if something happens when I am gone?) or when I arrive after a trip (what if something happens when I am here?). This silent fear has become my companion, but I diligently hide it behind the "things are not that bad", "life goes on", or "one has to live" comments I say over and over to make things OK.

Life does go on, and one does have to live, with or without fear. But I wonder if we allowed ourselves to feel the fear, acknowledge it and talk about it with one another, we would soon realize how much we all have to loose.  We would see our experience and our enemies' and not only our position. And we would perhaps find our way back to our common humanity, the one that keeps us from harming, killing and annihilating each other.

Afraid of the unknown

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?

Going the distance

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