Adonis in Phoenicia

In the valley of...

2005-07-03T17:20:00.000+03:00

First of all, here’s a picture of a couple of the kittens that reside just outside my door. I can’t really play with them because they’re pretty shy and their mother’s quite protective.

Well, yesterday was quite the trip. My first thought is that wine tasting cannot really be done well at 10am in the morning. That said, it was still decent wine. At 9am we left, traveling by the Damascus road (don’t think that that means highway, it’s a road, and damn slow). After passing through the mountains at about 1500m (the lowest pass through the Lebanon mountains) the Beqaa valley opened up to us. It really is quite something to see. In Arabic it’s Wadi Beqaa, wadi meaning a place between two mountains, because it surely isn’t a plain. Even from the center of valley the mountains loom on either side. Also, it’s definitely a lot poorer than Beirut (which was surprising to some people, but seemed to me about the same level of poverty that I’ve seen in northern New Mexico, which is bad, but not for the world, Lebanon is still a very well off country in comparison). I guess it’s a very fertile area, but must get a lot less rain than the coastal side; it just looks more dry and desolate (maybe because I’ve become used to more crowded spaces in and around Beirut). We went first to Ksara Winery, started in early 1900s by Jesuits who discovered caverns that had been used in the Roman times. In the Beqaa, 30% of the agriculture land is planted with grapes, so obviously a lot goes into it. I must say that the wine is a bit different. Maybe a little sweeter and bit more like American or Australian style wines. Ok, so I really don’t know what I’m talking about, Garth, but I’m trying. I know they did give us a medium red wine that was chilled, which is odd, but all their wines were decent in the end.
Of course they use cellars for aging and the like. Also they make Araq (of which a purchased a bottle to bring back with me) and they used to make brandy. Arthur (this Swiss guy who works in the government and is quite knowledgeable) purchased a bottle of each, saying that neither would make it back to Switzerland.

After that we drove to Baalbeck. Our guide, Mohammed, was very neat, though the director of our program told him that the kids (and they are kids, in age and actions) wouldn’t be interested in history, which I suppose she was right. Nevertheless, he tended to exaggerate a little (“the ‘Phoenicians’, what I would exactly call the ‘old Lebanese’, discovered America, invented engineering, writing, and so on… though most times I suppose it isn’t so much of an exaggeration, maybe more linguistic), but there was something about his personality that I’m beginning to understand the more I’m here. Especially the kids in this program, all of them want to work for the government or something like that. Mohammed was saying that he’s come back here from Nuremburg, where his family still is, because he can be outside and that’s enough. Anyways, back to Baalbeck…

As soon as we got off the bus in front of Baalbeck, we were attacked by peddlers trying to sell us stuff. I feel torn by a natural curiosity to know what their selling and interest in it, and a repulsion of being a part this tourism for something that means nothing today, except for a livelihood for the people trying to sell us trinkets or hats. I bought a kilo, that’s over two pounds, of plums for sixty cents from a man, partly out of interest and partly because he was nice enough to give me an apricot just while I was looking. Something about the whole thing just doesn’t feel right to me.

So here’s the plan of Baalbeck from the Roman times. Like everything else the history and story just gets covered and change and remade bit by bit. One thing of particular difference to note about the temple is the hexagonal structure before the main court.

This is the main stairs entrance to the temple of Jupiter (or Baal).

This is across that main hexagonal structure, to get an idea of the size. Evidently this is one of the largest temple complexes from the Roman times, also in the best condition, especially the temple of Bacchus (Adonis).

This is across the main court. You can note the height of the columns as well a the nave (? The thing on the right, a half circle). Also on top of the walls are the reinforcements put in by the Ummayads when they took over this during Islamic rule and expanded it to a fort. In front is a large pool for washing animals before the sacrifice.

Here’s in one of those side rooms, with our tour guide in the middle.

This is from the great steps to the temple of Jupiter looking back on the courtyard. This level is 20m above the ground. The structure in the middle is an alter that the last German emperor rebuilt to make the site as it was in Roman times. Also he took about 320 statues from here, which then went to Paris or Berlin. If they went to Berlin, many got sacked to Moscow in WWII, or disappeared entirely, at any rate all the statures are gone. This was during the Byzantium times a church. Emperor Theodosius (my namesake) tore down the Temple of Jupiter and build a basilica in what was the main court of the temple complex.

Here’s some trees and the mountains with their everlasting snow.

The famous columns of the Temple of Jupiter, six out of 54, 22m high. Are you counting? The total height of the temple was over 120m above the ground.

The temple of Bacchus. Lots of partying in here. Like the Roman trinity, Jupiter, Venus and Mercury, the trinity of pleasures were celebrated here: Wine, Women and Opium. There’s a lot to learn from religion and history here, but quite frankly I’m too tired to write about it, it’s actually quite depressing (more in Anjar). If you want to know more about the history, this website is good www.destinationlebanon.com.

Some of the ruins, with the new mosque of Heliopolis and the hills.

After that we went for lunch in a restaurant in Baalbeck. We walked through the market to get there, not without being accosted (I really don’t like that word, because it sounds so angry and vengeful, when it’s nothing of the sort) by people trying to sell us this or that, or boys offering to polish our shoes (something I hardly do on my own, and would wish nobody to stoop to do for me what I could do for myself). The food was very nice, with Mazza first (and I ordered Arak) and then rice and chicken, and fresh cherries and apricots for dessert. Throughout the meal the lights might come on for a bit, and then go out for quite a longer time.

After lunch (this is like at 4pm), we drove to Anjar, 2km from the Syrian border, a symmetrical paradise built by the Umayyads as a summer home and never used again. Of course there were the remenants of great halls and the harem, the mosque and the Turkish baths, but the story isn’t there. I talked to one of the girls in the program, of Japanese and Iranian parents, who had never heard of anybody else like that. Maybe it is more common. There was a tree outside (Toot Ahmar, red mulberries), that had a few big juicy fruits, which I must say are also staining to hands and cloths. Sharing some fruit with her a man started talking to us. At first I think we both thought that he was Lebanese, which he was, but from California. He’d come to Anjar for the summer, because his wife’s entire family was there, and they were about to have their first child. Also afterwards, Mohammed was talking with Arthur in German (I’m getting it back as I work slowly, it got covered for a while by the new Arabic language) about the Ummayads and Muslims in general. “Sie haben die gleichen Fehlen gemacht, dass sie sollen niemand verehren.” They made all the same mistakes, forgetting that rule about representation had nothing to man’s inability to create as perfectly as God, but that message of Muhammed (PBUH) (and that of Jesus I would add, though as a comparision of Roman and Christian theology reveals it was lost), that no person should be worshiped above God, that none should be raised above the other. Seeing all this was depressing for that reason. But also seeing more clearly that there is this other way, a way that’s seems quite alien to my on hand, devoid of so many things that I’ve gotten to know as comforts, but a path that is more alive. I hope I’m not just being romantic about the whole thing.

Yesterday we saw enough ruins I think. I couldn’t help feeling that all these ruins are really quite destructive. Perhaps if people had no reminder of their past they would care more about their own people and situations. Instead of seeing a long and tumultuous history littered with remnants and trash of the centuries, they’d think about what they have yet to build. Maybe...

One week down

2005-07-01T22:25:00.000+03:00

I've finished one week. And boy was it hell. For some reason they think that I belong both the advanced Fusha (Modern Standard Arabic, or the high language used in communication) and in the advanced colloquial class. It means I've hardly slept and have struggling to keep my head above water. No pictures yet, but I'll put some up when I get a breath. Tomorrow we're traveling to Baalbeck, the site many old ruins, Anjar and Ksara (where a lot of good wine is produced). Until then.

Back to the dorms...

2005-06-25T22:21:00.000+03:00

Well, I’ve moved on again. I just moved into the AUB today. It’s alright I guess. For example, they said there’d be towels, so silly me, I trusted them. The room’s really nothing to write home about, so this’s it about it, it’s simple and not that great, but it has AC, power, and an internet hook-up. I walked around (around Al-Hamra Street) for about three hours, just wondering and sorta looking for a hotel, house and church I was supposed to find. Found the church, and some food, so that’s enough. I also have some pictures from Rafiq’s to post, so they’re up here too. It’s all Arabic from here out, except for this. Min shuftkum ba’adayn (see ya’ll later), peace.

Sims and Reenactment

2005-06-19T22:12:00.000+03:00

In less than a week I’ll be living in the dorms, and yet I still haven’t taken care of my visa situation. I’ve been reading Calvino’s If on a Winters Night a Traveler, but it will probably be the last thing I read, since I really need to devote my time to studying Arabic, and not just goofing of reading thing for enjoyment. It may be summer, and this may be a vacation more or less, but I’m still here to learn Arabic, not read a book that I’ve had the chance to read during the whole year.

Today, after staying up until 5am playing Sims 2 (which I’ve decided I hate, and deleted off of my computer, since it is horribly addicting and without any reward), we went to the chalet on the beach for lunch. I really wanted to swim in the afternoon, but after seeing the food, swimming, and not eating a lot before swimming was a moon’s throw away. I don’t think I’ve eaten that much meat in a while, nor that much either. But who can resist good kebab? Not only good Lebanese chicken (looking over this I originally had written chick…what was I intending “good Lebanese chicks…?) and steak, but all sorts of vegetables and kafta, as well as tabouli and Lebanon’s finest beer. So alright, maybe my plan of exercising and staying in shape (maybe more like getting in shape now), as well as staying up on my racquetball game has not quite worked out, but any sane person would do as much. Also while lounging after lunch, Rafiq’s wife, Marie Claude, put the fresh coals to good use and we lit up an argeeli (Hookah, or so, at least MS Word knows that word if nothing else).

Pictures from driving around Antilyas:

This evening we went to see Kingdom of Heaven, which I’ll rant on about for as long as I can before crashing. They talked about it in the car, but since my understanding of Arabic only permits me to get words and not really thoughts, my participation and further thought was limited to my own brain. In some ways it confirmed my worst fears as to what the movie would be, and then again I suppose it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, or what the usual fare is.

To jump ahead a bit, it ends with Richard the Lionheart looking for Balian, defender of Jerusalem, returned home to France, and a blacksmith once more. Of course the humble Balian does not acknowledge his role and Richard goes off. We are then given three sentences before the credits role, informing us of Richard’s reconquest attempts and Salah’din’s mercy or some crap like that, and ending with the note the Kingdom of Heaven has still not been found in Jerusalem, were there continues to be no peace. Thanks David Brinkley. The only acknowledgement of some measure of peace comes early on in the movie, where someone (Tiberius, or Balian’s father, I believe), says that Muslims, Christians and Jews used to live together, before the coming of the Crusaders.

Our hero leaves “the land where they speak Italian to a land where they speak another language,” though at least it appears that he didn’t pull a Columbus and end up on a sunny Florida beach. Because he’s in God’s hands, of course the ship is destroyed in a storm, and he is the only one to survive. With only his sword and a horse that he chases, Balian wanders across the desert. Of course this isn’t any desert, but as Salah’din himself informs us later, this is “the Lebanon.” Now please resist the temptation to associate with the place I claim to writing from, because I am quite sure this place does not require a definite article to exist, nor have I found any deserts or remains of ships on sandy beaches.

Further, while this place that I call “Lebanon” (or often called by many other names in other tongues…) is considered to be in the East, I have not yet found the sensual and sexual dreams that our hero experiences. Here again is a romanticisation and falling back on old stereotypes of the East. Our hero wakes up in Jerusalem, surrounded by Arabesque, ornate pillows, billowing sheer curtains, oh and young lithe women running around. For a worthless lord, he’s doing pretty well at the East business. Not only that, but Sibella encourages this ideas or a different, looser more sensual sexuality, that is completely different than what is found in cold, snowy France. She comes seducing Balian, holding a candle, a blows it out just inches from him, claims, “Here in the East, everything is light.” I wish that line worked with girls, alas I think this is another case of Hollywood tricking me. Sibella is always to be found in the most sumptuous Arabian clothes, always speaking in Arabic, except to Balian, who evidently is a little slow on the uptake. There are no images of sensuality and sexuality associated with France or the Westerners, except when they are imitating a perceived idea of being “Eastern.”

We’ve been asking why they teach just Fusha, Modern Standard Arabic (MSA), in the universities across America when it’s only a language for official communication, and if you tried to speak it on the street you would stand out, that is if you could even be understood. But America has found a job for those who passed their Arabic classes, but are not smart enough for the CIA or State Dept; make a movie! Yes, the Arabic in this movie was like listening to one of our textbook movies, albeit a little longer and with a lot more blood.

While this is an action movie, I must say that all of the blood and violence seems like quite a bit much, though I can see where they held back a bit. In connection to the previous thought on language, while the Arabic translation underneath used either Muslim(s) or Arab(s), the characters constantly used the word Saracens. While I suppose they were trying to be “historical” to my and my self, it rubs me wrong like the Crusades. There’s really to much religious crap on both sides, most of it bad, and only a few saving words and actions.

Salah’din himself is one of those that seems worth saving, though he too is framed by a stereotype of the East, falling back on customs and phrases such as “Your enemies shall know your worth in battle,” without a reflection of the equally rich European tradition of thought, perhaps not present at the time. Salah’din seems to have lived almost two lives in truth, one as the leader of the Muslim armies and a ruler, and one as a devote Muslim who spent time in prayer and contemplation, reading and discussion with scholars and the learned of Islam. Such was his time spent that it seems to have gotten him a negative impression from those below him, and built a legend around him as a thoughtful, pensive leader whose military battles were no match for his compassion and strength. Of this we get a very small impression, and what we see from his actions cannot be divorced from being part of some Eastern mindset, not necessarily attributable to the man himself.

Even during the Crusades (from the perspective of this movie), Jerusalem is a city stuck in the past. It is a citadel of symbols, a pilgrimage in every steep, teeming with the masses of foreign humanity. Our hero doesn’t every come to terms with the city as a city itself, except for a slight glimmer at the end when he surrenders it and asks Salah’din, what is Jerusalem? Salah’din answers that it is nothing and turns away toward his victorious army, with Balian still standing there, looks as defeated as the burning city he’s sworn to defend. Salah’din turns around and says, “and everything.” Actually this movie likes to use quite a bit of parallelisms (as if Muslim/Christian, East/West, Good/Bad etc. etc. wasn’t enough).

Hmmm….well that’s enough rambling about this, though I made notes to write about more. Quite frankly while there’s quite a bit that I found offensive it worries my that I’m lacking in a proper way to explain it. Thus I need to study Arabic more, read more history and the like. I’ve been contemplating doing medicine after all, because it would provide a way for me to be well off and maybe have some time. That though has been blown away by the fact that I realized most of it I still wouldn’t enjoy. More and more I think I need to do something like what I was trying for above, albeit more organized and learned than the mess up there.

Here's a picture of Joel and her boyfriend Bassim:

Shift...

2005-06-15T22:00:00.000+03:00

Well, looking over the last post, it seemed a bit much. A change of thought and a change of scenery since then. Maybe, maybe not. I’ve since come to Rafiq’s house, and this is my second night here. Yesterday I got to spend more time with Eli, his son, and meet his two older daughters, Carla and Joel. We went to dinner at about 9:30pm, the usual time for dinner around here, everything starts later and goes longer. Joel works in the design department of Bank Audi, Carla worked with an architectural firm for two years and is going to U. Penn in the fall for her Masters, and Eli just finished his first year at AUB in Electrical Engineering.

These are pictures from when Rafiq came to Bscharra's to pick me up, first is Bscharra and his wife Ghada:

Nasri (I seem to have gotten a lot of good pictures of him):

Nelly, smilliing:

Rafiq and Marie Claude:
Along the way to eat, Joel asked me, “How did you find Beirut?” which grammar aside (leading to another set of questions and maybe answers), I tried to note all of the different aspects of the city that I’ve experienced so far. Little did I know that I was about to get a full blown lesson in that very question the next day. When we returned, some more family had showed up, but I was too tired to really talked or listen much. Before going to bed I leafed through a book, “Beirut through the Ages.”(A picture of their challet (sp?) from later on, spent the better part of a couple days there.)

The next morning I explored my room a bit further, another apartment window (a kitchen) across the way, a sofa bed, tv, stereo, computer, a drafting desk (definitely this room is used by Carla at least), CD’s, and book, oh my books. Ok, so not as my books to make me gasp, but quite enough to keep me interested. A set of Encyclopedia Britanica, not often used much in my experience anymore, Gardner’s Art Through the Ages, photo albums and yearbooks, and a lot of architecture books. I started flipping through one, The Politics of Space, quite frankly too much philosophical ramblings and self-stroking to hold my interest, but the footnotes caught my eye because of Rilke used quite a few times. After that I found Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities, along with two other books of his. Here it was, the answer to what is Beirut, and maybe more.

(Towards the mountains from their dinning deck.)
Except for an interlude of finding a cell phone (my cell number in Lebanon is 961 3 141 147 if you want to call me) I spent the day in and out of some sort of consciousness, reading the whole book. There’s so many things to take away from it from an architectural view, how Carla sees it, and then so much else about people and relationships. In truth our cities and buildings are nothing but perhaps the outward expressions of our lives, how they are lived, organized, destroyed and made. Lying on the sofa, half-way asleep, I keep seeing women that I knew appearing in the room and changing as rapidly as the fragmented cities came and went in the book. It was like the puzzle pieces in the book that I’d been trying to fit into Beirut, into a city, seeing seeing and names and desires in the invocations therein now in front of me.

Ruins and such

2005-06-13T21:42:00.000+03:00

(From my walk, Mar Elyaas, Saint Eliyas.)
Today was a day mostly wasted in sleep or playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City on their home computer. I’ve forgotten what a wonderful waste of time computer games can be. Also listening for about the 5^th time this week to Sheherazade, I really need to find something else… but I suppose I have my reasons. Garth if you read this, sorry but I too like to listen to things over and over.

After taking a (/another) nap this afternoon, I went for a long walk with Ghada and a friend from the building. We walked back along the road up into the mountain, some ways below us a river that’s pretty small now, but quite large during the winter. I guess I might actually learn more from doing that than trying to study from my Arabic, though I need the written background to build from. Along the way I kept asking about different plants and trees, which I think the other woman thought was a bit queer (not in the American sense, though maybe she thought that too). Halfway through there was the ruins of a Roman bridge. Neat, but I suppose not that much to marvel at, since they were everywhere building useful civic buildings. I have some pictures of some flowers that I found, and what I learned about them. One thing in Lebanon is that there seems to be not much of a care for the environment, and people throw trash everywhere as if it wouldn’t matter. Also I’ve never seen so many stray cats, for some reason they just don’t seem to like cats at all either. Along the way I came across two kittens rummaging around, and tried to pet them, but they were pretty feral.

These pictures are from a morning after when I got up and took a two hour walk by myself and took pictures (and listened to the Rite of Spring and the Firebird, very appropriate music I think). This is along the Wadi of the river going up into the hills:

And this is the Aquaduct of Hazmiya, famed throughout the ages. Ok maybe not really, but Beirut was one of three great cities of legal learning (among Rome and Al-Iskandariya (Alexandria), before the massive earthquake leveled the city one time out of six others it was completely destroyed):

And this is an Orthodox Church that I was excited to learn about, but it's still underconstruction. Definately not a antique.

In the evening at supper (like at 9pm), we talked and as usual all the kids came around and crowded around the table. Eli is evidently quite upset that I’ll be leaving and wants to go with me. I suppose I should tell Bscharra to tell him that I’m leaving him for that girl (more later). Personally I have a special fondness for the oldest, Stephanie. Bscharra was telling me how from very young she would always want to sit and listen to adults talking, and was not afraid to talk to somebody and look them straight in the eye. Also, the other day at the beach, she swam with me out to the floating dock. I thought I’d have to help her, but she did it on her own (with floaties, but that’s still quite a leap). Bscharra bemoaned all of the work that she has to do, saying that she always is slow in everything, so maybe I see a bit of myself in that. She never seems in a rush to go anywhere or get or homework done, or go to bed, despite easily falling asleep forgetting to take off her glasses.

Maybe I don’t Rafiq and his wife well enough to judge how their family works, but it seemed to me already to be a bit colder and more distant that what I’ve experienced here. Maybe it’s having younger kids, maybe it’s not being so rich (and some sort of mindset that goes with it?). Anyways, it’ll be a nice change of scenery, and of course I can always come back here.

Also at dinner, I asked Bscharra why he was giving me mixed messages, which launched into a longer talk on lots of things. Included in that was how he met Ghada and their relationship, and how he set up my cousin Danny, who evidently didn’t want a light skinned girl, but darker, not Lebanese. At any rate he said that when I was first talking to Elise he was on the beach yelling at me and trying to get my attention because he thought she was too interested in me. I don’t know if it’s my intuition or imagination, but I would tend to agree with him. Nevertheless, what I was really interested in is having somebody my age that I knew to talk to and do things with, especially if she free. Bscharra said she was too dark (I don’t agree with that) and that (as he said it in Arabic) she has no meat on her, that she’s to skinny, as well as that too many Lebanese just want to go to America because they think it’s better there.

Which brings me around to my current predicament. I think that yesterday is when I started really feeling homesick at all. Not really homesick per se, but I’d like to be talking more with my dad about what I’ve been seeing, and missing a bit the way things were working for me in Lawrence. I don’t much feel bad about Kim, though I wish I could know how she’s doing. I feel resigned to the fact that since I’m in Lebanon, that means not seeing her, which I don’t know if that’s really a bad thing that I don’t feel emotionally wrought by that, but I don’t think that’s ever been me. But I do feel again the same sort of crisis (maybe crossroads or so is better) that I felt when I was visiting my family in California before I started college. It’s between two things: one, what am I going to do that useful and I can make a living, and two, what sort of life (relationship/family) am I going to have. Tied up with it I suppose is an enthrallment with Lebanon, with so much about here that I feel comfortable with my surroundings. Some things are small details, some seem like entire outlooks.

I suppose part of my family life is already decided for me, since I didn’t pick my extended family upon arrival. Listening to Bscharra talking about his wife, and finding Danny’s wife, and his disregard for Danny wanting to marry somebody like from Sri Lanka or so, I feel a bit of the same sort of repulsion that I always would have to it, and yet it’s hard to deny it and still keep a claim to something of culture. I don’t know how it works, in America, with somebody of a different culture/language/etc, or even with myself, as a now a transplant here, Lebanese, but still not really. Marwan insisted that I was Lebanese, but I doubt people would see that at first here, and I certainly don’t feel it. Quite frankly I’m not sure what to do with any part of my life after this.

Berries and Burns

2005-06-12T21:05:00.000+03:00

I see that I sort of trailed off in my last post, and didn’t get back to it until quite a few days later. Hmm…..remaining thoughts….Anyways, here’s pictures of the animals from around here, and the garden as well. In this building we have a doorman of sorts. It’s a mother and her two twenty-something children. Of course when you think of a twenty-some year old guy, you might imagine them decked out in the latest trends, driving a fancy car and going to all the hot parties. Not like a dirt poor family that became refugees from Iraq because they were going to kill the guy. At any rate, they’re in a bad situation, but better here than there.

Bscharra seems to have less sympathy for them than I might, but I suppose he has to deal with them, and they are hired to work around the building. I talked with the mother for a bit when I’ve been hanging around while Bscharra works on his boat. They’re from Mosul, and Christian, whether that had something to do with them leaving I’m not sure. Bscharra says it’s because they don’t like Christians there anymore, which may or may not be true. I have noticed though a strong wariness in the least to a disdaining dislike of Muslims from Lebanese Christians. It’s definitely not the inviting mindset that I’ve know from the Ecumenical Christian Ministries. I suppose it comes with the civil war and a lost of power from the Christians hands. It makes me uncomfortable on hand, and yet I feel it. Maybe it’s just a dominating force, but it seems that Lebanese Christians see themselves as the holders of Christianity in the Middle East, and more and more the only safe place, though they greatly fear loosing their grip.

That’s why Shi’a are such a problem to them. If a Muslim takes four wives, as he’s allowed to do, and does happen here in Lebanon (mostly in the South), that’s a lot of kids he’ll have, whether rich or poor (that majority poor). That’s a big demographic problem. Bscharra applied two times to go to Canada, but was rejected both times. He said that the head of the Catholic Church here told all the embassies not to let any Christians emigrate. Since Christians have been more educated and better off financially, they’re much more likely to head for anywhere else.

There’s quite a few Christian groups here. Michael Aoun, the former general of the Lebanese Army, returned earlier this summer. His part has been uniting a lot of the opposition (Jumblatt, the Druze leader, Sfeir, the Maronite head, etc) and they use the omega symbol. Also there’s the supporters of the Quwat Lubnaniya, the Lebanese Forces, that Geagea had a lot to do with. Quite frankly they all scar me a bit, but especially them. There’s more, but I don’t feel like going into it really right now.

The goslings up close. And the kids, feeding the rabit
Nasri, Bscharra's brother, holding the rabit for the kids:This is the boat they've built by themselves (the two brothers), it's named after the daughter of my cousin Dani:
Of course, one of the best things from Lebanon is the grapes:

Nasri in the garden:
A flower (Khitmiyah) that is dried and used medicinaly:

One of the fruits and flower of their bananna trees:

Nasri in the garden, the stalks beside him are sugar cane:

And finally, the goslings trying to eat a piece of bread:
Since then though, there’s been a lot of excitement. To begin with, a neighbor came and “helped” me with my computer. From the get-go I didn’t like, evidently enough that Bscharra’s wife noticed. He talked big about all the things he knew, which the more and more I saw him work on things, I realized that he was far from the computer genius he claimed to be. He claimed to have written voice recognition programs and do all sorts of hacking and stuff, making a relative’s computer in Romania catch on fire. Also that he’s trying to get money from Microsoft, who stole his program that he wrote. Anyways, he offered to update my computer to XP Pro and maybe fix some problem, I don’t remember. At any rate my mistake was letting him touch my computer to begin with. I’ve since found out that he can’t read very well and that he doesn’t know about Alt-Tab or Alt-F4, among other things. This is not a man to be trusted around your important documents. Unfortunately, nobody warned me before hand. After much trial and tribulation, my computer is sorta working. I need to reinstall drives for my wireless card among other things, the cd of which is still in Wichita. Oh well….\

Friday evening after the kids had been put to bed we (Bscharra, his wife and I) went out. First we stopped at a teeming little shop to buy some sandwiches of Sujuq, a (tasty and) spicy sausage. After that we drove to downtown and walked along the edge of a marina for a bit, until we came to the area where the former Prime Minister, Hariri, was killed in a planed car bombing. The army still has the area closed off, and it still looks pretty bad. I read before I left that an international team was going to do an investigation, but I wouldn’t put much hope in that.

After that we drove past the AUB to the coast along Rawche (raowschi?), the large rock formation just off the coast. It used to be a popular place to off yourself, and people still dive off of it, or get wedding pictures on top of it or take romantic boat rides under it.

As a side note, there’s a lot of stray cats here. Not many people seem to keep cats as pets, in fact they seem to view them as pests.

Yesterday (Saturday), we traveled to some historic sites (at least to my family). We went to Bscharra’s home in Khaldi, next to where my grandmother’s house used to be there, as well as the rubble of my great grandparents’ house (picture below). We went there to pick to white mulberries, about six gallons or so in total. The whole area has been changed so much. Of course that what happens, but it’s still sad when it’s connected to you. In front of my dad’s house in Khaldi now is a large highway, and the sea that used to be just next to the house has been pushed two hundred yards out.

There were some hills behind it, which I imagine that’s what my dad talked about, fortunately not completely covered with buildings. I would have liked to go and climb around, but there were berries to be picked, and it felt a bit cliché and all. Then again, I suppose I regret it now, so I might try to get somebody to take me back there.

Picking there berries didn’t take all that long, but the kids were no help. I don’t know when I started helping my parents, but I must have been ten when I would at least marginally help. Bscharra showed me around the house, now deserted and quite desolate looking, though not as bad as much of what I’ve seen. He told how in his bedroom they (the invading Israeli army) had dropped a bomb, completely destroying the room and the surrounding houses. On the roof he showed me where the family had patched up the damage from twelve rockets that showered everything like machine gun fire (and not small ones either, like 2½ inches). One of the favorite weapons of the Israeli army was the cluster bomb, a 1½ ton bomb that would explode above the ground, spreading bombs over two square kilometers. My grandfather died long before all this from his kidney disease, but Bscharra’s father was killed by shrapnel from bombs that were dropped.

On a happier note, Bscharra keeps calling me Danny, the name of my cousin in Boston. I guess it’s flattering, since Danny’s always been one that my parents have put a lot of trust in to take care of us, and keeps a good name. Maybe, maybe not important, Bscharra said that he is the one found Georgina, Danny’s wife. I wonder if it’s not a subtle hint…

After picking all these berries, we drove to Hadith, in Beirut, where my father lived. This too I imagine changed a lot. The house is still there, riddled with bullets and dilapidated, but around it so much has be rebuilt. I’ve been trying to tell my dad, and show him on the internet, the country that he wouldn’t recognize anymore.

In the evening after the kids had be put to bed we went out again, got some more tasty food, then visited a relative of mine (the son of the brother of my grandmother), whose other brothers are in Cleveland, Ohio. He owns a small juice cocktail shop, quite different. I’ve never had avocado as a sweet fruit, it’s always been either in guacamole, in salads or straight. I suppose it works. Also in this cocktail was this sort of sweet crumbly cheese, and the usual, strawberries, bananas, oranges, nuts, raisins and so on.

Today was our trip to the beach. First of all I must say that typing this at the moment is not as fun as I’d like. I’m pretty tied and very burned. It took quite some time to get everybody ready to go (not me, I put stuff in my bag and sat down and read for bit), and to get there. We took a long route to get there, I think because we were planning on going to another beach. In the end we went to the military complex. It’s a beach and center (indoor pool, salon, weight training, etc) all run by the military. Nevertheless, it was a very nice beach. I swam quite a bit, though I still can’t stand any little bit of the water in my mouth, nose, or eyes, as it really burn from all the salt. The kids played close to the shore, except for one when I got Stephanie to swim out with me to the buoyed dock out in the middle of the clove.

Besides swimming I sat in the sun and baked. I really should have had more than SPF 15, not really waterproof or water anything sunscreen. But last time it was cloudy and not bad at all. About halfway though the day there I noticed that it seemed a little warm. Then again, I thought my forehead was really burned by it seems fine now. After we ate (pizza, fries and Pepsi, I still can’t understand why anybody would prefer that over good Lebanese food), Bscharra’s wife, Ghada, and her sister wanted to swim out to the buoyed dock. Her sister’s husband doesn’t really know how to swim. I had spent most of the day so far looking around, besides stints swimming around the clove by myself. I spent most of the time sitting being quite, sort of trying to listen to what was said, but not taking part and not really paying attention. I think spending more than a few days with people makes you too comfortable, and to easy to stop trying to speak Arabic and drop back into English.

I start in the water after Ghada and her sister to swim out there when I notice somebody yelling at me. Strange, I thought people generally liked me, but I didn’t imagine that my fame had spread that far across the globe. At any rate, Elise happened to be at the beach as well with a friend of hers. We talked for a bit then (you know, the usual, oh how is so and so that’s our mutual friend doing, etc) and then before we left. We agreed to get together (with Sami and company) to hang out and such. One thing that I don’t get is how their school goes until the beginning of July. Also bad since when I get busy with my school, everybody else is done and enjoying Lebanon and such. But it would be nice to be around people my age, as my day of sitting and burning reminded me.

In a related vein… You know, everybody (well Arab) and my family always keeping telling me to get a Lebanese wife. Funny, since I didn’t think I was in the market, but these are the same people that have repeatedly told me (as a vegetarian at the time) that chicken is not meat so it’s ok to eat it. Besides starring at what was going on around me my family again repeatedly reminded me to pick up a good Lebanese girl from here. What vexes my understanding, is that when I do talk to a girl, albeit not in any interest besides out of a friend and having somebody my age to talk to, they say now that she wants me, and to take me away from my girlfriend, and so on and so on. If somebody ever decodes this mixed messages, please tell me.

in Hazmiya

2005-06-08T20:44:00.000+03:00

Well after almost a week at Sami’s I move on to another relative’s house. Rafiq (my dad’s cousin on his mom’s side) came and picked me up and took me to the American University. I tried going to the Registrar’s to get proof of my enrollment in the university. I got shuffled around to six different people, all of them telling me that I was not in the university for the summer and to go see the people that I had just come from. After much frustration I suggested that we go directly to the office of the Center for Arab and Middle Eastern Studies, the department that does the intensive summer Arabic program. When I got there the director said “Oh don’t bother going to them, just come here for everything you need,” and handed a letter of acceptance. Problem solved. During this time Rafiq’s son, Eli, accompanied us around the university. He’s a first year student in Electrical Engineering. After that we went back to Rafiq’s house, up high in the hills over Beirut (500 meters above sea level to be exact). There we had lunch with his wife, Marie Claude. I’m so used to at home, that if we want any Lebanese food, like cheese or lebnih or whatever, that we have to make it ourselves from scratch, not just go down to the bakery or supermarket. Also, if you have money here, you also have a maid, most of them from Sri Lanka.

At lunch I said that I need to visit some other people, and during the whole day I kept dropping hints, saying like “oh, well Sami really needs to study for his tests, and I think I should give him a break from having to take care of me,” but I guess I wasn’t clear enough. I’m not sure how forward to be in asking people to stay with them, and what are the rules of Lebanese hospitality. At any rate we called two families to go see them. The first, still in the East, but in more built up area, my dad’s uncle and aunt on his mom’s side, Emile (who I last saw in Cleveland) and Suriya. Rafiq and his wife thought it would be funny to pretend that I was their son, and not Nabil’s. They’re very nice people, and have kids that work in Beirut, but I will probably stay with them later, when me Arabic’s gotten a little bit better.

After some sweets and juice and coffee (after three cups already at Rafiq’s house) we went to visit the next person, Bschara and his family, in Hazmiyi, a very Christian section. Here I’ve only seen pictures of Dr. Samir Geagea (warlord, as they say in the English papers, from the civil war, and heard I think of the Lebanese Forces). Bschara is my dad’s cousin, hence his mom was my grandma’s sister. Maybe I will post a family tree to help explain all of this. His mom, Nelly, is still alive, and looks a lot like my Tata (Olga) did. We were visiting them (and hence, more coffee, and Namoura in addition to that), and they offered me to stay with them. Since Rafiq didn’t seem like he was moving, and I couldn’t tell his wishes, I took the opportunity. I hope I didn’t offend them, but he wasn’t very clear at all.

So now I’ve been here two nights. Here too they have a live in maid that cleans and I guess their youngest, their son Eli (8 years old), usually sleeps with her because he is afraid to sleep alone. I still have a problem relinquishing cleaning up after myself and taking care of things by myself. But I suppose the help is nice to have. Except that she cleans my room every morning, and rearranges my cloths that I had set out the way I wanted. At any rate it’s a nice home and there’s plenty to keep me busy, not so quite as Sami’s house, so I haven’t studied as much so far. They have three kids, Stephanie (10), Patricia (9), and Elyas, Eli (6). Stephanie has now had a year of English, but their main language is French, outside of Arabic of course. Their mom, Ghada, teaches at the school and works with the kids every day until late in the evening.

Behind the building (with 16 units, half of which they own), there is a lot of green space. They have a large garden which I will take pictures of soon, maybe tomorrow when it is not so bright and hot. Also there’s a boat that they’ve built themselves. In a bit we’re going down to a port to talk with some people about finding a place to dock it. Also they have a rabbit (for a pet I think, they got two as babies, but the boy died), and chickens and ducks. They’re all very cute, well, maybe not the chickens really. The rabbit was hand raised so it can be picked up and the ducks are too young to be angry and biting, though they are a bit ferocious when it comes to eating cabbage. They let the ducks and the chickens roam around because they won’t go anywhere, and when the ducks grow up, they’ll be too heavy to fly anywhere. When I take pictures of the garden I’ll write about all the great food they have, like bananas and avocados and guava.

One troubling thing though is the houses down behind the building. They look kinda ramshackle and put together of many different pieces of stuff. I guess some people from Sri Lanka and elsewhere live there. It seems like America’s relation to Mexicans, but a little worse, since there are less of them, and in worse conditions. That said, it seems the maids that my family has are well taken care of.
[Added later] Also, we went out driving to try and get a spot for their boat in a nice harbour. It still works that if you want something done, an influencial politician like Michael Murr can help you out. Under the right circumstances of course. At any rate I don't really recall now where these pictures are from, so take them for what they're worth:That guy behind the doctor is Michael Murr, in care you happen to run into him.
This one and the one below are from the office of Murr.And last but not least, the old dock that they didn't want to put their new boat in.

Shakespeare's not in Love

2005-06-04T20:43:00.000+03:00

Well it's not even been a week, but despite all the hospitality around me, I can't help but feel very foreign. Not necessarily a foreigner, because at first, before talking to me anyways, people assume that I'm Lebanese. But especially today, going to festivals celebrating the end of the year at two different schools, I felt very ... isolated. I can understand quite a bit of what's said, but never enough to make a complete thought. It feels like it's sorta washing over me. I was hoping to be learning more and faster, but it's just so slow. Along with that I guess I'm feeling a bit of desperation of ever understanding Arabic. It's just seemed quite an imposable task lately.

The only real(ish) English I got was a very very very very very unbelievably bad production of "Shakespeare in Love" by an an all-girls high school. How dost thou turn my stomach? Let me count thy ways.... At least it was in English. :: I take that back, it would be better if I couldn't understand the horrible miss-mixing of times and cultures and screw-ups and bad lighting and sound and people yelling during the whole thing. At one point, the Lord marrying Shakespeare's love and taking her to a plantation in Virginia talked about having just arrived from the States. Now if you've had remedial world history you might recall that Shakespeare lived in the 1600s and America (that is the United States of America, or "the States") was not founded until the later quarter of the 1700s. Anyways it was bad, and way for me to vent my frustration onto a (maybe decent) attempt by a high school to put on some entertainment. Oh, and the director came on and bowed at the end. Very unprofessional and egotistical. I would've had him shot. After that we stayed for a bit a friends house, it's very nice and the kid have had great opportunities (that's what being a general gets you I guess).

Then we came home at an early 10pm, but to me it's felt like a very long day. The day seems a lot longer and more tiring when you spend all of your time trying to understand what people are saying. I felt like I hadn't really done enough for Sami, considering all that he's done for me. I mean, not only has he paid for everything and taken time out of studying for his final exams, but he's been my personal translator all the time. It must be a real burden to have to take care of someone who doesn't understand a thing about what's going on around him. Also we we got back we talked for a hour or so about church and faith. It's quite amazing how quickly the conversation can descend into the language where it becomes inaccessible. But it was nice to talk to him, mostly me pouring out my complaints and contradictions. Sami told me that here, your religious affiliation appears on your official ID, and all that goes along with that. Well I'm tired, it's like 12pm here, 4 in the afternoon there, and time for me to get some sleep. My throat virus thing that I suffered with for a week before coming here is showing it's ugly head again I think. So I'm going to try to see if I can make it less than a week of not being able to hear and swallow right.

Hamburger

2005-06-04T20:39:00.000+03:00

Everyday is something new. For example, for dinner tonight we had some great burgers. A wonderful tasty American bun, a thin patty of meat and cabbage, tomatoes, French fries and ketchup and mayonnaise. It's really funny the way they get certain things right about particular cultural items yet choose to change others. Anyways, here's a picture of the sun going down over the sea while I was sitting and reading this evening (Note, the picture was lost in the unfortunate events listed later, so here’s a Kleenex thing).

The Beach

2005-06-02T20:08:00.000+03:00

I didn't wake up this morning until 11:30am, at which point Sami came in and said that we were going to leave for the beach in five minutes. First here is a picture of AlHarissa from the beach on Jounieh. It's pretty high up in the mountains, which here are covered with clouds. To the right of it is a seminary and church, St. John's I believe.

And here is the beautiful beach of Jounieh. It was on-and-off cloudy, but still plenty of sun, though this picture doesn't do it justice. I have never tasted saltier water in my life. It was so much that I couldn't believe it, but still swimming in the sea was fun.

While we played around, this guy, Sami sat around and studied for his tests.

The two other guys, Serge (L) and Eli Geagea (R), sitting on the deck above the beach.

And a picture of pasty white me. After that, we stopped some places to pick up some food. Spinach pies and meat pies as well as Pizza Extra. A ten inch pizza with tomato sauce, lots and lots of cheese, and mushrooms, Mediterranean style (salty) olives and corn. And upon this they all put ketchup. Completely strange to me.

Any way. We had that and here's some more pictures, about the least blurry ones that I got, since I have so much trouble with keeping it steady enough (I think it's harder when there's less light. And then a picture from the table, nice and clear, with the night sky in the background. By the way, we started calling the Lebanese dialect Arabic, and the High/Written (Modern Standard) Arab, Mexican, like how they speak it only on the Mexican soap operas that are dubbed. So if I ask how to say something, they ask if I mean in Arabic or in Mexican.

Arival

2005-06-01T18:46:00.000+03:00

Today was quite pleasant though always confusing. I don't feel homesick at all, yet I firmly know that I am in a completely foreign situation. Even though I've studied two years, it really means nothing right now. In the morning while Sami (the son of the son of the sister of my dad's grandfather) studied for his mechanical exams at the end of the month I review stuff in my Arabic book. In this particular building (I think it has six apartments, two per floor) almost all the people that live here are related to Sami. His aunts, Amal and Su'ad, also live here. It's strange to have all the windows open, all the time. The weather didn't get very hot today and it's cool in the evening, but not to cool for me. Anyways.

During the course of studying people dropped by. First a friend of Sami's from school. Then Eli Geagea, a cousin of the jailed Christian leader, Dr. Samir Geagea, and Elise (a girl, but I don't know how to write her name, like Eliyas, but different, and more French sounding, also she looked so much like Natalie, who I used to work with at the Warren and is half Italian [revision, 6/12; I take that back, she looks a lot better than Natalie, maybe the smoking just isn’t that sexy…]), both friends of Sami. I spend a lot of time listening and trying to pull apart what people are saying but it only goes so far. It ends up being a long, drawn out, and somewhat frustrating process, me trying to use formal Arabic the best I know (and English) and they try to use formal Arabic, but the way people speak normal is so different. For example I was trying to explain my religious background (or lack thereof, either way this is important later). I was saying that my family and I are Orthodox Christians, but I work with the ECM. Don't even ask me to explain ecumenical in Arabic. But I had to try and explain Presbyterians. Now Protestant in is one thing, but to go into all the break-off groups from the Reformation onward is nearly impossible. I couldn't even begin to explain the Mennonites or Quakers. I tried to explain what Southern Baptist means. Maybe I sort of got the idea across. Then again.

We watched some tv, and boy am I glad we don't have TV. Imagine, MTV, but mixed along in the newest Nelly video is really cheesy (to me anyways) synth and drum-machine heavy pop music. Worst pop music ever. Ok so maybe not really but to me it seems bad. Also we watched a Spanish drama (and I think I've seen it before) where they it's dubbed and the speak the formal Arabic. It's really popular to use English in the names of business and the like. One example is B to B (Breakfast to Breakfast) a 24 hour "snack" joint that serves pretty tasty Lebanese food, from Sambosa's to Fatiyir (meant pies) to cheese sticks and pizza, to Arous (which means sandwich, but also bride), sorta sandwich wraps. Anyways today I had from there this sandwich wrap, it was like two pieces, each twelve inches long. It was filled with chicken and lettuce and well I don't actually know what. The sauce was this sorta turmeric or curry flavored mustard sauce I guess. Also I had what an Almesa, a Lebanese pilsner. Also another friend came, and later we picked up a kid whose finishing his third year at the AUB. Before we left we stopped be to see Sami's aunts, my dad's cousins, to talk to Amal for a bit, try to explain to her, between my own terrible Arabic and Sami helping to translate, how my dad is doing and what's going on with my family.

After that we drove to pick up Eli Lamma, he had hung around earlier, then went (walked I think, it was nearby), and he had with him some Red Bulls, which is probably the reason I have the energy to stay up tonight and type (and I have some troubling thoughts that go later). From there we went to this pool hall were we (now four if you couldn't keep track) and we played three rounds, most of my work quite pitiful, but a few good shots.

Also everything here seems so crazy and so ...contained at the same time. The streets go every which way and people drive like maniacs, yet somehow it all still works. I'm also struck by what at first glance I would call run-down or the like in America, and yet, it's different, it's still teaming with a life that one wouldn't expect to see. Large cities always seem a little worse for wear, or at least in a state of constant rebuilding. But here so far, my surroundings seem old and worn, yet the people in there not at all. For example, where this one guy lives looks sorta like the barred up place you might find in a bad section of New York. But I see a brand new Mercedes parking beside it. At any rate my impressions are still swirling so it's not really clear.

After we played pool we drove to Jounih, north of Beirut to Al-Harissa (the Lady of Lebanon). I believe where Sami lives looks like it's mostly Christian (in Be'out or Beqout) at any rate it's in East Beirut. We also picked up the kid that is studying at the AUB. He had bought some books for his Civilizations class, I suppose something like Western Civ. classes. One of the books was Orientalism. Imagine seeing that taught in an American university. Also he was going to read in the next week or two with other books. I tried to warn him....that was probably the densest book I have ever read.

But this monument as you see is the Virgin Mary. It's on top of a mountain, with a large church beside it. When we got there is well into the night. Still the place was light up and was packed with people. I sorta felt the same here as I did with Los Hermanos Penitente in New Mexico. It seemed like such a strong outpouring of faith, but a still and calm faith (not like being in a large baptist church or so). Still it was really moving, and it really struck me in a way I'm still working to understand. I don't think I can relate to such a strong devotion, especially toward a particular person (i.e. the Virgin Mary). I asked this kid from the AUB, Nadeem, how many Christians are in Lebanon, because I've heard ~30%, at any rate quite significantly less that the number of Muslims. He answered to me that he didn't know. I thought that that was quite strange that a student as well educated as him would have no clue. Or maybe he doesn't want to know. Especially in Be'out, but also driving up the mountain to AlHarissa, I see little shrines everywhere. That too strikes me as out of the ordinary. I guess we see giant crosses on the highway, but those seem to be broadcasting a message, not signifying a place of devotion.

My last thought before I sign of this for tonight (this probably won't be posted until I get Internet somewhere, as you'll notice the date), is how hard it is to write in English. I've keep forgetting words and ways to say things, as well as grammar. Anybody who's read my writing might notice, though it's usually pretty bad, a change in the construction of the sentences. I can't quite put my finger on how it's changing but even as I type out sentences, I feel that there different that it's been pushed around by Arabic. If you thought I picked up sayings from Shawn quickly, y'all ain't seen nothin' yet. I think I've already picked up a heavier, arabized accent in English.

For all you folks at home it's 6:36am on June 1st, Kansas time, which is 2:36am on the 2nd here.

Final Pictures of Kansas

2005-05-31T18:32:00.000+03:00

Here's a bunch of pictures from my trip up to Kansas City to get on the plane. First our house, and Nabil heading inside for one last thing.

Also, this day was Memorial Day, so we stopped at the cemetery nearby, where my grandma is buried. Last year we talked to Sam Brownback, but this year we were a little pressed for time.

Where are you all going, just walk down this path...

Of course since this is the Midwest, there's a giant cross to be had.

Then we went for breakfast at the eyesore of a place formally known as Spangles. I like their food, but I can't say I really miss it when I'm away. Not like there's a lack of fatty greasy food to be found most places.

Of course our last stop had to be at an American icon. Strangely, I've found out that they don't have Wal-Mart here. Thank God for small blessings.

Wedding the night Before

2005-05-29T18:28:00.000+03:00

Here's a crappy shot of the wedding at our church before I headed out the next morning. I meant to get a picture in the church itself. Still, for as much ritual, they aren't afraid to party and dance in the church hall.

Trippy Ride

2005-05-28T21:24:00.000+03:00

And after Julian's party, we spent the evening in Old Town. As much as I thought Wichita was dying, it was nice to see some action going in. At the Brickyard, Shaking Tree was playing as also there was a number of other live bands. We stopped in for a beer at the River City Brewery and just walked around. I should also mention that in the plaza in front of the Warren we were accosted to by two black men. One was holding a Polaroid camera and the other a bunch of roses. After offering Kim a rose (because he had to take Claritin just to hold them, since he was so allergic) they offered to take our picture for $5. Needless to say, I refused and Kim, though she felt she should give them something for the rose also went with it. Still they tried, told me how beautiful Kim looked (because the guy with the roses was "into Asian chicks"), but finally they left us alone and we escaped with a rose. We also saw some guys, for no discernible reason, outside the Old Town(e) Tasty Shop cooking burgers or something with a large grill. I'm not sure what they were doing, but I know we didn't venture to try some. Anyways these picture are me playing with the length of the picture on Kellog (Highway 54) on the way home.

Cadillac...Jack

2005-05-28T18:18:00.000+03:00

Here's me and Kim in Julian's Cadillac, trying my best to look cool. It was a fun time at Julian's party, we talked later about how it seems that there were so many interesting people in high school that we didn't meet until later.

2005-05-28T17:33:00.000+03:00

Here's where I spent yesterday, helping my mom clean up her classroom in this place.

In Wichita...

2005-05-26T08:08:00.000+03:00

Well I've been home more than 24 hours now, supposidly this is my preparation week before the trip and time to see my family. After taking my sister Hayat to Borders to help her try to learn Algebra I at the last, to no avail I might add. My father and I went to IHOP for a late-night conversation and totally unwarrented eating of very tasty steak and eggs (and some quasi-veggies). I've been feeling kinda sick since I've been taking care of my girlfriend, Kim, who's had a bad sore throat and flu-like symptoms. Now I've gotten pretty sick and this evening it was such that I ::almost:: couldn't talk. More on that.
So we finally called the American University in Beirut's NY office to clear up some things, send them a final check, and see about getting a visa. I guess I'll just get one at the airport. I understood from them that they basically change the visas around all the time, so I might as well just go there and see what's up. After that we called my uncle in Boston, to find out about people and things to take with me (use lira not dollars or they'll think you have money, obviously). Since I arrive on the 31st of May, a couple days after the parliamentary elections, at 9:30pm, finding my way around will be more complicated. I'll probably stay with my dad's cousin Rafiq, whose children are a little older than me, and have the time and resources to take care of me and show me around.
After Hayat came home, angry and lashing out at us, we tried to see what else we could take care of, with a nap in between and lots of tea, before going to my other uncle's restaurant, Byblos. We stayed there until almost 11pm. A friend of our family was there, Mike Hajjar, who told me I had to see his old house in Beirut, just a block away from AUB. He said that the house hasn't changed, even though there's been a lot of development around it. His cousin Adil has it now, as well as a hotel on the same block. For that area of Beirut, I guess it can't be too bad. I should upload a picture of the map he drew for me.
I also talked with my cousin, Julia, about her boyfriend, college (she stopped going this semester and is working quite a bit, taking care of their restaurant and at the mall) and about marriage (I have a wedding to attend on Sunday before I fly out, they're just a year older than me) and I informed her about going to Lebanon, since I guess she forgot. It's going to be so tough. She couldn't understand me, and I couldn't understand her, the difference between the high, literary Arabic that I'm learning and what people actually speak is really a great gulf. Besides my throat hurting, I was not really up to speaking because I'm pretty shy about it, especially in front of my family, since what I know, all I've studied, seems so useless. Hopefully I'll be able to make it usefull this summer.
As the night went on I was able to talk a bit more in Arabic. As much to my amazement as my cousin's, as I was trying to explain to her about and encourage her to read The Da Vinci Code, she was shocked to learn that Jesus was Jewish. History and truth are evidently not a large part of religious education. We also talked about bringing back things. While I can't bring back meat or other perishables, alcohol is evidently quite alright. They were practically telling me to put 12 bottles of Araq (a strong anise flavored liquor that is Lebanon's national drink) in cases, wrapped in towels. My uncle also warned me to behave coming back through London, as he said that they'll give me the most grief, and do a very through search of my person. We what do you expect. It is of course random. Even if you always get picked like the two wonderful women that I met (one Israeli, one Palestinian), that travel together to talk about their suffering and non-violence. Obviously they are dangerous. They really shouldn't make a fuss about it and just say that you're being searched because you're from the Middle East. Anways, I drink a cup of nasty Theraflu and since it's past midnight, my bedtime has fast past.
Look for more post and pictures as I figure out how to work things and actually get over there.
In Peace.