Dinner vs. Supper

It's weird how the human psyche works, my human psyche I suppose.

Words can easily fool me.

Tell me it's dinner time and I'll suddenly feel hungry. Dinner time in my mind means it's time to eat grilled chicken, roast potatoes or maybe some rice, vegetables on the side, and by the way, what's for desert? And hey, don't forget that nice glass of wine. Or you know what? Bring the bottle...

On the other hand, ask me what I feel like having for supper, and my mind instantly thinks: why don't you just have a slice of cheese with tomato on a piece of toast and warm cup of herbal tea and call it a night, hmmm?

The evil eye

The eye that wards off evil is a well known symbol in this part of the world. It is always depicted as this wide-open expressionless blue eye set into the palm of a hand or a silver pendant or a beaded holder and so on... They've got a version for every situation. I've always thought of it as a nice part of our culture but a bit silly nonetheless. Yesterday I changed my mind...

I was on my way home, driving on a narrow road that barely fit the two way traffic it was meant to sustain. I was on the right side near a huge solid bridge-wall. On the left, a black Jeep was double parked taking up oncoming traffic lane-space. There was too little space for a car to fit, it seemed.

As I approached the bottleneck, a huge old Buick came barreling down the road towards me. It didn't slow down until the last second, just when I was in the one-and-a-half-car space with my mom's car... Gulp! Did the other car stop? No, of course not! It slowed at the last second but kept pushing it's way through, insisting on claiming the right-of-way ...

So as you can imagine, we were two wide cars squeezed into a very small space (but larger than I would have imagined. I know cement doesn't stretch so I don't understand how this happens!). I was concentrating hard on not scratching my mom's car on either side, I sat up straight, rigid in my seat, thinking it would help me see better. I frantically whipped my head left, then right, then again left, stealing glances at my mirrors and the sides of my car as frequently as possible, slowly inching forward.

As I got to eye-level with the other driver, this apparition from hell stared back at me disdainfully. An older lady in her 50's, hair teased to petrification, eyes so made up they looked like burning coals in her sand-colored, fake-baked face, her smudged lips thinned and her wide mouth sagged downwards at the edges and stretched wider in an utter look of disgust and revulsion. I could feel her damning me to hell. Cursing me to eternal misery as if I was the one who build the narrow road, bought her a huge car, built the bridge where it was and double parked the jeep just so I could torment her...

In that moment I would have given almost anything to have a bright blue eye swinging lazily off of my rear-view-mirror, the open palm waving a no-thank-you politely at the evil that this woman was hurling at me...

I'm buying one tomorrow. For some things, you need all the protection you can get...

Consequences shmonsequences

I went running on Dbayeh Marina. It's a beautiful stretch of wide sidewalk near a 'relatively' quiet road. It overlooks the sea and you can smell the splashing waves. In the distance, the Beirut skyline shimmers in the evening sunset light. It's a beautiful place.


On the rocks below little cats run around looking for scraps the fishermen may have left behind, teenagers hang out in groups drinking beer and whistling at passing girls, and adolescents chase each other from rock to rock.

As I finished my run and stood in place to stretch, I saw a chubby 10-year-old kid pick up one of the empty bottles lying near his feet and throw it at the rocks, watching it smash into a million pointy pieces. His dad behind him smiled like a proud father. Chubby picked another bottle up and wound his arm to throw again.

I yelled out at him: "HEY!!!"

He froze.
The father turned to look at me. What's the matter? the dumb expression on his face seemed to say. I ignored him and spoke to the kid.

Me: "What do you think you're doing? Why are you breaking the bottles?"

Chubby: "They were here".

Yup, that explains it!
Me: "You don't need to break them. What if tomorrow you're walking down there and you cut yourself on glass?"

Chubby: "I don't go down there. "

As if because he is not affected by his actions, fuck the rest of the world.
His dad grabs his arm and pulls him away, shaking his head like: let's get the fuck away from this screaming psycho!

It's an attitude that is very prevalent here and is seen in every action. Like driving for example. There's a bit of traffic? Fuck it, I'll make a triple line and squeeze into every available space so oncoming traffic can't move, turning cars can't turn and now there's a huge traffic jam. But do I care? No! Because I got ahead, so there!

The whole idea that each of my actions has a consequence behind it, that it affects the people around me, is such a ridiculous concept here that trying to explain it will result in people looking at you like you're a nut case...

Commanding authority

So I've very recently moved back to Lebanon to finish up writing my manuscript and I have to admit that after the initial political upset in May, the summer is looking like it's going to be great after all.

My sister and I went into down town this evening and strolled through the newly re-opened restaurants and cafés lining the pedestrian walkways. We were craving a cocktail shi2af (a fruit cocktail with chunks of fruit, clotted cream, honey and nuts!).



Very soon we chose a place we liked and as we headed for a perfect table, we were cut off by an eager looking waiter offering us a different table with no view of the Spain-Russia football game. Now I'm not really an avid fan of football but I love watching it when it's on and said as much.

After they blubbered at us for a while, we understood that they didn't want us sitting there, but we insisted and finally, in exasperation, they let us stay, but not before making it clear that we had to leave by 8:30 because the table was reserved. Ok fine! Why is it when a guy walks in they are immediately more cordial? As in: Tfaddal Monsieur?

But no cocktail shi2af on the menu so we headed for another café close by.

The hostess asks me: Table for two?
I say: Yes please. Where would you like us to sit?
She says: Oh anywhere you like! pick anywhere!

So we pick a corner table and before our jeans even touch the seat, 4 waiters swoop down upon us, babbling something about not being able to sit there and maybe this table was better, blah blah, blah. Fine! We move again.

Moving tables is not a problem for me you see but I just don't understand how to command authority here. I mean there's a clear difference between people kissing ass and people respecting you... or at least respecting your authority. Sis says that because I'm a woman (30 mind you!) I need to dress like a 'madame', (no jeans and crossed legs on seat apparently) throw money around like I'm filthy rich, and look like I'm nauseated from the mere sight of them... is that true? Money and males command authority I guess.

I tried looking snotty as sis snapped a picture of me but instead a waiter came over and asked: I make it for you one?

Hunh?! Sigh....

Patriotism

Marion Cotillard won the Oscar for best actress on Sunday. You should have seen the news in France yesterday. All day long and on every single news channel there were images of Marion winning the oscar.

The headline was always the same, French woman wins best actress award for the first time in over 50 years... Which is great, I don't want to knock her achievement, but the lines that usually followed were sort of:

'And the Americans were saying the French have lost their talent and culture, aha! this will show them...!'

I find it amusing that most countries have this sort of pride. Even on the news you feel the bias...
- the french football team won this game.
- there was an explosion in Pakistan and 12 people died, one of which was a frenchman.
- In the olympic trials yesterday a french woman won second place in some obscure sport...

you hear nothing else about anyone else... well ok, very little.

Good thing I come from a country where there is little local achievement, you get a bit more news about what's going on in the rest of the world.

Except if Shakira or Mika are around. Then it's: 'Look what Lebanese can achieve! And we make long lists of people who may have had some Lebanese in their very distant ancestry that we put on the internet and wave around with pride :)

Back

So after a long time away, crossing seas and rivers, riding over land and desert, suffering rain and wind, sun and heat, meeting people of every country and every origin, and spending a blissful week in my beloved Lebanon, I am back to being a foreigner in a foreign land.

Back to speaking french, back to sorting myself out in this place, back to my real life. I got out of the airport and looked at all that is around me in distaste.

How can I look at the cote d'azur in distaste? It's where people kill to be, where lambroghinis rumble along the streets with ease, botoxed women invade the sidewalks with poodles in their arms and sexy hairless men in giant glasses strut around in white linen pants...

How can I not be happy to be here? To be back...?

Well, it's simple. There's something about being home, a certain addiction, an attraction, and pull that makes it the most beautiful place to be, despite the garbage, despite the political instability and the insanity of elections, despite the polluted seas and dusty skies...

There's something about sleeping in your own bed of years ago, of seeing your mom in the kitchen (of actually having a real kitchen!), of seeing familiar streets, faces, voices and people that just sets your heart beating faster, gets your breath coming quicker, gets your smile to flash in a second and your stress to melt away into the heat...

Take me home.

I want my man'ousheh.

I've been gone awhile hunh?!
Well, it just so happens that we all need a vacation from time to time and I for one, hate routine. And I've been really busy. And not really in the mood for writing. I did mention at some point that I was moody didn't I?

Well I'm back but I have nothing specific to say really. The same thing is going on the world... The political situation in Leb is still unstable, there are still coup-d'etats in other countries, world hunger still exists, poverty, global warming etc... and I'm still as self centered as ever. Some things just don't change...

Well, I'm headed home in a couple weeks and I can't wait. It's been since February and who cares if there's a risk of a full blown war starting up at any time? At least I'll get my man'ousheh!