Christmas Day

Christmas dawned sunny and early.  First horn honking car didn't pass until 7:30 am, late by Beirut standards, for you see, this is a business day for many people in the Middle East.  In some ways that makes it easier to be here because regular life goes on.  Just join the throng of walkers scooters and drivers, and you feel, well, "regular".  For each of the past 3 years I fretted for weeks, even months ahead, about how to make Christmas happy: Who would I be with? What shopping was there to do?  Would my kids come to the island or would I go to them? Would I even see them, and How?  Never mind the baking and card list.  I haven't actually sent Christmas cards for several years.  At this point, and in this place, I think it's time to let go of that guilt.  Isn't it what we do all year round that matters most? That said, I've always delighted in the cards that come in the mail.  Here there's no land mail, or very little of it.  I've received 5 pieces of mail since I arrived in Beirut, and two were from T Mobile...  It's email, and e-cards now; some with audio and photos... totally cool for an overseas taste of home.
I want to thank you for your email and your cheerful wishes of encouragement and good will.  I feel like I have an army of support ever ready, all the time.  It's gotten me through a lot.

I hope you know that I am here for you too. You are in my thoughts and prayers.  

*

In

case 

*you*

 haven't 

**heard**

*Dear Friends* 

***and Family***  

**I'm wishing you a**

Merry Christmas! 

**** Wherever you are,**** 

no matter who you are with, or not with, 

**and no matter what you are doing,** 

********cards or no cards...********

Blessings on each of you today and always.  

love

Carolyn

Dark Days

Winter here is WET and accompanied by violent thunder, lightning and POURING rain. The days are shorter than summer, but not as short as the NW I'm used to.  Bought black rubber boots today and can't wait to try them out in the streets that turn into rivers.  Rain boots are essential Lebanese equipment.  Next essential is a REAL raincoat with deep hood. What was I thinking when I packed mine into storage?  "If I only knew then what I know now!" I've lost count of how many times I've said THAT.

My dark days aren't about weather.  Mine revolve around the loss of my friend.  Charlene and I hit it off right away.  She is a few years older, lives downstairs, same building, and also new to ACS.  Age seems not to matter in the social world of international teaching, but when it comes to good old fashioned girl friend intimacy, the tell-all kind, you gravitate to someone who has the wisdom of years. Charlene has been that person for me.  She has a lot of overseas experience, all in Eastern Asia until now.  She admitted this 3rd grade classroom job was a stretch beyond her experience with speech therapy and ESL.

Charlene had 21 3rd graders; 5 girls and 16 boys. Who wouldn't be overwhelmed?  We talked a lot about behavior techniques that usually work.  I've had challenging classes; some years are like that. You use every trick in the book until the year is finally over. Then you count your blessings.  But nothing seemed to work for Charlene. Until a month ago I thought there was still room for success, but at that point, Charlene decided it wasn't worth a year of headaches.  She's letting go and will return to the US the end of winter break.

Several times we've expressed amazement in finding a great friend in this part of the world.  Charlene has a kind smile, and warm heart.  I will miss the knocks on the door, shared coffee and talks, and oh so many adventures. I do realize that new adventures and relationships lie ahead.  In the meantime, I've been feeling blue.  We are taking a trip up the Nile in a week.  It'll be a grand trip, and I'm looking forward to it.

I'll miss my "instant friend". While our friendship will not end when Charlene leaves Beirut, I've learned an important lesson. On the international teaching circuit people come and go every year, or even in the middle of the year.  This is what happens.  Two year contracts end, and people often move on.  In order to succeed here, one must be fairly independent, flexible, and highly optimistic. Enjoy each day for what it is. This is my reminder; to live just one day at a time.

Here's to new rubber boots and OPTIMISM in the face of pouring rain.

Baalbek

Baalbek:  
Redefining AWEsome.

Marguerite and Carolyn; Temple of Bacchus in the background.

  

Ruins of Baalbek

We reached Baalbek via private car and driver last Saturday.  7 passengers paid 30,000LL or ($20) each. Lucy's 3 friends from Abu Dabi, and Marguerite from Seattle, were all here the same weekend! 3 hours drive, all of 50 miles, and we arrived.  I had problem with "hang jaw" at the sight of magnificent columns reaching high, a temple rising above giant walls of stone. Unlike other ruins I've seen, these rise above the surrounding town; spectacular.  Once we paid to get in the place was ours!  No plexiglass, no "Stay on the path," no handrails, no "Keep out" or "Hands off" signs; just me, a camera, and curiosity running wild.  

I couldn't stop talking to myself: "Oh My God!" "Oh My God"...  I have never been in proximity to so much art littering the ground; intricate patterns and bas relief in marble, busted up and lying about. I could walk up to anything and touch it, sit on it, and just imagine what it must have been like two to five thousand years ago.  How did they get these pieces of rock here? and the pink granite columns?  These pink columns came from Egypt on boats.  They floated them in on barges down the river.  There were lots of slaves to do the work, plus elephants.  What a construction site it must have been.

From the Temple of Bacchus, a look back to the columns
where Marguerite and I were standing
 in the first photo.

The columns were massive, and so tall!  What didn't stay up was all over the ground.  Everybody has had a hand in this site; Egyptians, Romans, Phoenicians, Turks, and there are even relics of neolithic origin; 5000 years old.  When the Turks came 500 years ago, they picked up the litter on the ground and built a great walled fortress, complete with arrow slits.  This set of columns has remained standing; a Roman tribute to Jupiter, while most have crashed to the ground.  You understand that it's not an entirely safe place to wander... but this is Lebanon! There are no limits for the visitor; everything you see is accessible.  The grounds are immense, and I couldn't help thinking how fun it would be for a game of hide and seek! 

Truly AWEsome!

TEDxBeirut

Lucy and I caught a taxi to the Palais UNESCO.  A short walk later we ascended the marble steps of the palais, built in the 40's, and symbolizing Lebanon's new independence from France.  In comparison to the taller buildings around it, the palace appeared humble. The carpet was well-worn, trim board missing in places, bathrooms outdated and small.  Some of its former magnificence was evident in an enormous room sized crystal chandelier that was hanging in the two-story entry hal.

We moved to the reservations tables to claim our name badges.  From there we went upstairs for a bite and tiny paper cup of Turkish coffee. My advice? Watch out for the last swallow! There were no chairs, standing room only.  We headed for a tall table and were soon joined by others, a group of UN workers from Mexico, United States, Bangladesh, and Lebanon. The American was dressed up in sports coat, looking a bit warm to me, and introduced himself as Christopher Littlefield, husband of Maria, a UN worker from Mexico.  I quickly recognized him as one of the speakers for the day!  His talk would be about "Recognition in the Work Place".

Downstairs we joined the crowd growing in front of the closed auditorium doors. In the crush I conversed with Giovanni, a Lebanese citizen who had just received his Masters in Biology from UCSD!  We had a lot to talk about.  I shared that my nephew, Paul Matson, was there studying ocean algae, had already earned his doctorate in Marine Biology (help me out with this Cathy!).  Giovanni clearly loves San Diego, but came home to spend time with his parents in Beirut. His dad is fighting cancer.  He was adamant about his desire to return to the states, and hopefully UCSD, to work on his doctorate. About this time the doors opened and we moved as one into the auditorium.  Lebanese do not line up, they mass!  This was seen and 'felt' later at the lunch counter where Lucy's youth and soccer speed put her at a distinct advantage... grabbing enough of the tiny sandwiches off a tray to feed 3 of us; Lucy, Augustine, and myself.

The TED conference was a series of 5 to 15 minute speeches, seven speakers per set.  Each speaker talked about ideas on a wide variety of topics.  Most speakers were Lebanese. A few, like Christopher Littlefield, live in Lebanon. He is the husband of a UN employee.

I'd seen TED talks on line and found them inspiring. The first speaker was Dr. Imad Saoud.  He talked about feeding the people of the future.  He explained that at today's current rate of growth, in 40 years the earth will have 2 billion more people than the 6 billion it has today.  Since the amount of water on the earth is the same as it has been since the age of dinosaurs, it's up to us to come up with ideas to get more bang, agriculturally, per drop.  He is a professor from AUB and discussed his ideas for raising masses of herbivore (rabbit) fish vs. carnivore fish like salmon, to feed more people at an environmentally lower cost.  He also described that inland farmers are experimenting with the raising these same rabbit fish in large irrigation containers,which enrich the irrigation water and also provide a protein-rich food source. He said they are experimenting with this process in Lebanon now, and it seems to be working on a local scale.  He urged everyone in the audience to "Save a liter of water a day" by turning off the tap while brushing teeth, or by washing the car once every 10 days instead of once a week. I wondered if the concept of water preservation is something new in Lebanon.  They have always enjoyed abundant fresh water from their mountains, unlike their Middle Eastern neighbors.

Charles Elachi, project leader for NASA and Lebanese, came to talk about the Mars Rover, his greatest space triumph to date.  He showed us a video of the Mars landing. "We did the impossible!"  The challenge?  Space vehicles race along at 18,000 miles per second, and "our task was to land it safely on Mars in just 7 minutes."  This they did, against all the odds.  He attributed this to the passion and teamwork of his people; the idea that if something didn't work there would be no fingers pointed in blame.  He explained that for success to happen, team members had to feel safe and free to create. Every idea and its results are borne by all.  It was truly an inspiring talk.  Made me think about how I could create this kind of teamwork among my 4th graders.

By the time we left for the walk home, Lucy and I were filled with inspiration and great contacts.  Dr. Saoud told me he would be happy to visit our 4th grade classrooms and discuss his water project.  His knowledge will be a great addition to our Spring unit, "Earth in the Balance."  We also made friends with Augustine, a UN worker from Bangladesh, Lucy's age. All exchanged phone numbers and hopes for future get togethers.

Giving Thanks in Cyprus

Cyprus is beautiful; a 25 minute flight from Beirut, and worlds apart.  As soon as we got off the plane, we were met by the Greek taxi driver, our names printed on a sign he held out to us.  He led us outside to his parked car.  As he loaded Charlene and Barbara's suitcases, I popped my backpack into the trunk and slipped around to the passenger side.  When I opened the door I found a surprise; the steering wheel!  "I'm not really planning to drive!" I sputtered. The driver laughed at me as I found my way around the car, back to where I'd started, and got into the front seat, left side.  As he took off, I let out a few gasps at oncoming headlights, more chuckles from the driver, and on we went.

We've had a busy 4-day weekend.  For Thanksgiving, we ate "rooster" in Nicosia, the inland capitol city. Our charming young waiter was doing his best to translate Greek into his limited English.  The meal was delicious.  I found myself enjoying everything, from the thick homemade bread sticks to salad / veggies, "rooster", and Greek wine.  We happened onto this outdoor restaurant as we wound our way along narrow single lane roads inside the old fortified Venetian walls of Nicosia.  We met Cypriot fat cats who posed for photos, and stepped into small shops to gaze at the wares, i.e, souvenirs.  My partners bought jewelry and cotton shirts, while I enjoyed looking and helping.  I'll be returning to Cyprus, so no hurry.

I learned that in 1974, resulting from an invasion of Greek Cyprus by Turkey, the politicians agreed to split the island of Cyprus between Greece and Turkey.  Like formerly divided Berlin, Cyprus, and more the the point, its capital Nicosia, is divided in half.  We walked from the Greek side across the "border" into the Turkish side on Friday.  Our passports were stamped.  We meandered narrow winding roads in the Turkish half of the old city, passing former medieval Greek Orthodox churches now transformed into mosques with towers topped by crescent moon and star. The difference between the Greek and Turkish cities was evident at the first step. Gone were shiny Starbucks and glossy designer shops of the Greek half.  Gone were the bustling crowds of shoppers. Now we passed tiny shops of discount clothing, handmade confections (Turkish Delight!), yarn and knitted goods, and of course, rugs.  We heard the call to prayer.  Litter was scattered in the walkways.  We ate lunch at the foot of a medieval mosque, and fed chicken scraps to a scrawny kitten whose pitiful cries and dirty paws told us he was on his own.

Back in "Grecian Cyprus" we noted the clean European style roads and felt at ease, left side of the road and all.  The intercity bus for 3 euros (about $4.50), hustled us back to Larnaca on the south side of Cyprus island, where we moved into the Golden Bay Hotel for 2 more nights.  We visited two villages. Their stone wall homes are topped by red tiled roofs lining narrow cobblestone walkways and roadways. I love all the rocks, mostly limestone.  Found myself dreaming of living in a stone house near the sea!

If I'm going to make this Mediterranean swim, it's time to do it!  There are fluffy white hotel bathrobes in the closet.  I'm going to wear one over my suit to the water's edge, then drop and dive... minimizing wrinkly skin in the sun!  Most say it's too cold to swim here, so I am on my own.  Even my roommates are finding excuses for alternative recreation.  Oh Well.  Must go and see what happens.  I am giving THANKS for you, dear friends and family!   

Beirut Marathon

How could I forget this?
Sunday was the Beirut Marathon.  One of our ACS staff, Alex from UNC, was running on a relay team, and it just so happened that the race course ran on the road in front of my apartment building!  There were 5K, 10K, and 42K races with staggered starts, but Alex's relay began at 7 a.m.  Had to see his blond head go by!

On Saturday red tape was strung between trees and poles down our road... "Beirut Marathon"... "Remove your vehicle by midnight tonight, or it will be towed."  Our street is a one-way road, but VERY busy, and always lined with parked cars on both sides.  What about that old wreck, I asked myself.  Everyone on our road knows about the old car parked on the curb with 4 flat tires, and so filthy its color is unknown.  Saw it on my first walk, my first day, and there it has remained.  I predicted that the tow truck would be busy.

Set my alarm for 6 a.m., giving me time to wake up and check email before the race, then hopped in bed about 10 p.m. Within the hour, police sirens were blaring, along with every conceivable siren variation: Blasting Beeps, Earsplitting octaves, Screaming slides.  The point? Reminding car owners in these tall buildings, "Come down to the street and move your cars!"  For the first time I couldn't tell I HAD windows.  The noise was piercing and crazy making.  I put on my headphones and began to watch "Intouchables". Sirens stopped about 30 minutes later. WHEW! I looked outside and saw many cars still parked along the curb; the flat duster among them.  Looks like they'll have to tow.

At 11 p.m. I climbed back into bed.
Moments later, it seemed, I was awakened by the same racket of sirens blaring on the street below; this time at midnight. I returned to the movie for another 40 minutes.  Finally the noise stopped and I got back into bed, sure the worst was over.

Wrong!  At 2 a.m. the sirens started up again.  Oh My Gosh!  I texted Charlene, "Enjoying the night music?"  Her reply, "%#*&$ NO!"  This time I covered my head with the pillow.  All this for 4 parked cars?  It didn't make sense!!!  The noise must have stopped because the next thing I knew my alarm was calling, "It's 6 o'clock a.m., Time to get up!"  I stepped outside to see the street empty, the old duster gone. The sky was black and threatening. If only the race could end BEFORE the storm?  I went in to start the coffee, would need it this morning.

Got a Skype call from Liz.  I took "her" outside with me, via ipad, as a motorcycle brigade went by, followed by a herd of paraplegic racers lying on stretch bicycles using hand pedals.  What a sight!  "Magnifique!  Formidable!" I yelled from the 4th floor.  No one else seemed to be yelling at that point, but heads looked up with big smiles!  It was just about 7 when Charlene came to the door.  We stood on the deck with "Liz", watching more of these amazing athletes pedal by.  At 7 there was a lot of booming in the distance; starting guns?  The next moment, lightning bolted across the sky, there was a gigantic crash of thunder; and the rain began in torrents. Charlene and I stood outside as long as we could.  "Liz, we have to go inside!!"  Just then I had to pause as about 8 to 12  front runners, all Kenyans, squished by.  Felt like I was watching the Olympics through a curtain of water!  Now we had to go in because the rain was bouncing off the handrails and everything was getting soaked, including my ipad.

For the next 10 minutes we stayed inside and had a lively 3-way conversation, Liz propped up on the coffee table.  It was remarkable, and fun.  Charlene retold her version of the night's siren experience and we all had a good laugh.  By then I realized I'd missed Alex and the faster runners.  We went back on the balcony to cheer on the runners still going by, still raining. By now there was lots of cheering and yelling, and Thumbs Up came our way.

When Charlene left, I climbed back into bed; so sleepy.  Thunder and Lightning continued to rock the building. I was glad to be on the 4th floor, and contemplated what it would be like to run in soaking wet shoes and socks... blisters was all I could imagine.

Thunder and lightning continued all that day and through the night.  By Monday we had reached a true calm; not a stir of a breeze.  Every leaf was green and shiny.  The buildings even appeared "clean" in spite of their rusty edges.  It was a quiet Monday morning.

Alex told me his relay team came in 4th.  "There were over 30,000 runners", he said.  The internet said 33,370.  At my class morning meeting I learned that 3 of my kids earned participation medals, 2 were kept home due to thunder and lightning, and one left the race early with cold feet and hands.  Incredible!  The Lebanese wouldn't consider canceling a race due to thunder and lightning, even for soccer games,  The Show Must Go On!  What a Show it was!
    

Three Months Today

Crazy Busy! So ends my third month in Beirut.
Friends Charlene, Barbara, and I just paid for a trip to Cyprus over Thanksgiving.  We will leave Wednesday, next week, on a 45 minute hop to Larnaca, Cyprus, then a 45 minute bus ride to Nicosia for a night. We'll return to the seaside for the remaining days, taking excursions out from there. This is my plan for softening the family holiday yearnings. What do you think?  Dad and Liz, James, Kate, and Erik, I'll be missing you!
No specific plans for Christmas yet...

School has been racing.  As a newbie, I've had a lot to learn, and seem to fall into every pothole along the way; am reluctant to tell you about these here...  Luckily my two 4th grade partners help me get back on my feet. We work closely together. Our goal is to be a team in the eyes of children, parents, and staff.  History has proven that teamwork is essential for success at ACS.  We share ideas, but bottom line is we are in "lock step". I know that doesn't sound pleasant, but it is what must be done. We are finishing a biology unit on organisms, from plant and animal cells, to organisms, to life cycles, adaptation, and now, interdependence.  Our first quarter Science has been fascinating for me!  Our classroom example is the sea turtle, so we've studied these creatures, and even writtten a class folktale about Why Sea Turtle Swims So Fast.  Kids also wrote their own folk tales, publishing them on power point presentations to share.

On another note, logistics, I'm glad to tell you that I'm getting used to submitting my copying to the copy man, Fahdi.  He will run off a last minute homework page for me, and thank goodness for that.  I'm walking up / down 4 flights of stairs to and from my classroom every time I need to make copies, so planning ahead is a must.  The school, for the very fact that everyone is spread out high and low, depends on the email system.  There is no phone connection between classrooms.  I do have an intercom line to the main office.

Parent Teacher conferences start tomorrow; 15 minute sessions over two afternoons.  The office scheduled these for us. Nice! We just completed our first progress reports on line. It was another learning curve, but next time it will be easier.  We do a formal report card using ABC grades in January.  Preparing ahead will really help.

Had our first Parent Presentation, last Friday.  Parents came to school to see the children's folk tales on power point, and their Science projects about animal life cycles and adaptations. The science projects turned out well, although next time we'll work on note-taking. (That internet is way too easy to use...just print and paste...)  Our Presentation wrapped up with a song: "The Bear in Tennis Shoes".  Kids and I had fun singing; we all LOVE to sing!  I thought our presentation went well for the first 8 weeks of school (!); a personal record for me.  Yes, all 4th grade classes had parent presentations on the same day. These take place at the end of every quarter. Imagine that!

I have met a lot of neat people, all ages.  We've been thrown together in this adventure.  Last week I swam in the staff vs students swim meet; what a riot!  After I got over my fear of "competing", I had a good time.  It was the 50 meter freestyle. As soon as I hit the water, my goggles went cockeyed... just pulled them down around my neck and kept going.  Reminded me of the time James lost a shoe and finished his race barefooted!

More to come from Cyprus. Take care all! 

Post Election thoughts

The Middle East heaved a sigh of relief over the election of President Obama. I voted for his opponent... but is this the place to admit that? (Yep, Karen, it's true! In Washington state I wouldn't advertise that too loudly...but I love you and my democrat friends dearly!)  My vote was based on economic issues that concern me deeply. I appreciate Obama's ideals, but I wonder how we can afford them.  My concerns come from watching California, my beloved homeland, go down the tubes economically, based on many factors... but if it can happen to California, a state of plenty, then why can't it happen to our country? I can't help thinking of that fable about the ant and the grasshopper... I voted Republican to make my stand for fiscal prudence and responsibility: Reduce the debt.  My poor kids may know me as a freak when it comes to my passion for being debt free and financially independent.  (When you see Erik, James or Kate,will you please give them hugs for putting up with me?!!)

Even as I write this admission, I'm wondering how "Republican" I am. The game has changed. Kate said to me, "Mom, the choice is about Social vs. Economic issues."  She could be right.  I chose economic. But I'd be the first one standing out on the street with my sign if ANYONE threatened to take away my right to choose... and I DON'T believe that ANY president or party has the power to take those rights away. Can you imagine the uprising that would take place in our country if ANYONE tried that?  I haven't voted social issues because I haven't seen the presidency in that light. But times change... issues change... and so must parties.  I guess I don't belong to a party, or maybe I'm looking for a NEW one!  Whatever happened to Ross Perot? (Oh my gosh, just kidding!)

It is true what you hear: The United States stands as "a Beacon of Hope" that shines out over the world.  It's been a tremendous privilege to be outside, looking in, seeing the election process in action. You can't help feeling proud to be an American.  When I asked my Lebanese friend about elections here, she confessed, "I don't even bother to vote; haven't for years!...so much corruption." Wow. When my students asked me who I voted for. I told them we have a "secret ballot", and that the best candidate would win, so here we are.

Congratulations Barack Obama, and Blessings on the U.S.A.!

Just returned tonight from my first ACS musical performance.  It wasn't Chris Harshman and the Jazz Band, that's for sure. I felt nostalgic, even disappointed at first until I opened my eyes and really looked at what was happening. It was a band made up of staff, students, and community members, playing and singing their hearts out!  I have to say that it was loud and louder, as everything is in Beirut, but joyful.  Brass, strings, and drum kit performed Summertime, Stevie Wonder's Deek Duke , and Duke Ellington's Greatest Hits. Performing Vivaldi were two string students plus teacher; the ACS orchestra!  Knights of the Radio, rock 'n roll group of 5 high school students, also made their debut. We couldn't make out the guitar riffs, or understand the lyrics, but it was amplified and they had the stage moves down.  Audience loved it.  My favorite was the high school girl accompanied by her friend on the piano singing Cohen's "Halleluia." It was lovely.  Found a version you might enjoy on You Tube: look for "Lind, Nilsen, Fuentes, and Holm."  Listening to versions of this song is keeping me up way past my bedtime!


When I left the auditorium, I felt that familiar "Show's over" feeling. I could've been anywhere in the states, but here I am in Beirut!

Saturday Errands

Just got dropped off after seeing "Skyfall", the new James Bond movie. Arij drove Charlene and me to our first Beirut movie theater. The movie was in English with subtitles in both Arabic and French.  So glad that the voices were the ones we love to hear(!). Movie is explosive and Fun!  I'll only add here that it makes me sad to see Judi Dench in her "last role" with 007 series.  She's always a favorite.  As I sat on my red cushy armchair, (nicest movie chair I've ever sat in at ANY theater) I told Arij about the Clyde, our single aisle community theater back home; "They even pass the donation bucket when someone is in need!"  She said, "I would love to go to such a theater!"

Saturday is an important day. No school, YIPPEE!
It's also the only day of the week I can get inside a bank. Banks hours are 8 a.m. to 1 pm, Monday through Saturday. What with setting up bank checking and savings accounts, picking up debit and credit cards, returning for pin numbers, using ATM machine, it's become a weekly destination. You choose lira or dollars when you withdraw money from the ATM.  My checking account also has two parts; Lebanese lira, and American dollars.  The monthly paycheck is automatically deposited in lira, hence the deposits of 3,000,000!  Three million translates into 2,000 USD.  Since our housing costs are covered by the school, this is food, internet, telephone, travel, and savings (for travel!) money. And guess what?  Finally got email from the ACS business office telling me I can come pick up my passport. It's been tied up in the residency visa process since August!

Today at the outside gate to our building, I see Angela without her little white dog. This is the second time I've seen her without him, so I ask, "How is People doing?"  "Oh, he is fine, fine.  I take him out for a long walk early, 5 a.m., but not good to walk him in all this traffic."  She's got a point there.  Angela is French, but has lived in Beirut for over 14 years.  She is a lovely, tall woman, probably in her late 60s, with a strong French accent.  I ask, "Are you going shopping?"  "I hate shopping! I go to one store to buy all my groceries."  Really?  So I get up my courage and ask, "May I walk with you a ways today?  I'd like to see this favorite store of yours."  She quickly replies, "Oh yes! It's very close!"  Turns out to be a health foods store, very small, tucked just down the road from the TSC market where I usually shop.  Inside, I'm introduced to its owner, Rajif, and Angela takes me on a thorough tour, leaving nothing out:  "Rice cakes here... this is the only tea I drink!... See this chocolate? 85% cacao... and see all the dried fruits?  Organic oats and grains... this is what I eat every day."  Angela is a vegan!  Liz, I kept thinking of you!  I filled my bag with rice cakes, toothpaste ("You will never need to see a dentist again!"), a bar of herbal soap ("Smells so lovely") and whole fresh walnuts. We left the shop together, happy with our purchases.  And me?  Happy that I'd reached out to know her better.

Another Saturday errand is to the  Patisserie New Bourgeois, where Silvnan makes meals to sell. Her shop window is filled with pastries. Inside you see a long cooler-counter with ready made meals. Tom, an ACS teacher in his 8th year, first introduced us to the shop owners.  Silvnan and her husband run it together, but she does all the cooking.  By this time, Charlene has joined me. As soon as we enter, husband pulls out the white plastic chairs, filling the narrow aisle, and motions for us to "Sit down, Sit down!"  He pours us demi tasse cups of black coffee.  Silvnan hands each of us a slice of orange sponge cake.  Today I choose the stuffed cabbage leaves with roasted carrots, homemade pumpkin soup, and fish on rice with roasted slivered almonds.  Each dish is 10,000 LL, just less than $7, and is packed into containers to go.  To our orders, Silvnan adds a sauce for dipping, and a cup of her dessert pudding.  Mine is vanilla coconut; YUM!  We chat while sipping coffee, then pay for our purchases. At this point Silvnan asks, "Where were you next weekend?"  She meant 'last weekend'.  i explain, "I was gone, went camping last weekend."  Silvnan continued, "I waited until three o'clock, looking for you with pumpkin soup".  Oh My Gosh!  It dawned on me that while it's been a pleasant errand for the past several weeks, it's also their livelihood!  "Silvnan, I'm sorry that you waited for me!  Next time I can't come, I'll call and let you know."  With that, I promptly add her number to my cell phone. I think this means I'm a "regular", and I realize that it feels good!

Next stop is the hummus guy.  Today, I bring my own container; 1 kg  His usual serving is 500g, but I love it so much, I'm doubling!  He fills my container to the top, lid on, and charges me 10,000LL. It is so sesame-lemony good!  I'm addicted. I eat it on cut veggies, cooked veggies, as a spread on pita, or added to hot rice.  I enjoy a spoonful right out of the container... and that usually leads to another.  Those of you who know me may already know about this 'one' bad habit of mine...

Now it's time to head home, a plastic bag hanging from each hand., my shoulder bag filled, but something leads me right into a florist shop, one I've passed many times.  This shop is brimming with long stemmed flowers, and the roses especially catch my eye and nose, but these are not what I came for. To the man behind the counter I say, "I need compost mixed with Lebanese soil.  Do you have this?"  He understands my English and assures me that he does. "I have 2 hibiscus plants, about this tall, that need to be planted in large pots I already have. Can you do this?"  He nods, Of course!
"I'll drop off these bags and bring back a plant and pot in about 20 minutes." Sure!
In about 20 minutes, I'm back with the pot and plant.  From the back room he grabs two bags of compost, and then out comes a large pot full of sandy red Lebanese soil.  "Ah, that's what I need!" I exclaim, excited that he has this amazing soil.  He and his young assistant replant the hibiscus into its larger container.

The young assistant turns out to be the wheel barrow I'd asked about.  He follows me back to the flat.  We stop twice so he can switch shoulders, but no way am I to help carry.  I lead him upstairs, and he sets the hibiscus down on the empty saucer on my balcony.  I point out the second hibiscus and decide to take the jasmine plant and its pot as well.  Back we go to the florist.  This time the owner has already mixed the soils together, and notices my 3rd plant without missing a beat.  As soon as these are replanted, the young boy, Mohammad insists on carrying the jasmine plant for me.  He will make a third trip to get the big hibiscus.  He is Syrian, speaks Turkish and Arabic, but no English. He has no family here in Beirut.  I try to ask him some simple questions, but this mostly leads to laughter.  He is very kind.  When he brings the third plant upstairs, he heads straight outside to its saucer.  I thank him and hand him 13,000 LL, or about $9, which is a pretty nice tip.  He thanks me, but doesn't stop to count. I walk him out to the elevator, and say, "Adios Mohammad". He asks, Allemande? (German?)  I answer, "American".  He responds with a big smile, and says,"That Very Good!"  As the elevator door closes, he blows me a kiss!

So this is my Saturday.  See what happens when you step out into the world here?  You never know where your feet will take you.

The Calm after the Storm

Last week's bomb blast is moving farther and farther from our minds.  All activities were cancelled last week, some scattered gunshots reported, but life has taken a turn toward normal. Traffic picked up again Monday; back to noisy and crowded by Tuesday.  Beirutis want to get back to their lives. Political posturing continues, but that is not new in Lebanon.

Five of us just returned from an overnight getaway at Amchit (/ahm-sheet/), a campground 45 km north of Beirut.  Amchit is next to Byblos, the ancient city we first visited during blistering hot, dripping wet August, that first week in Lebanon.  Now it's t-shirt comfy, even at night.

On Friday evening we walked cobblestone paths in Byblos that led us through the souks and along the harbor where we saw the boats bobbing at their tie-ups. We continued up the roadway to pass a wedding taking place in a beautiful Christian church.  Couldn't help peeking into the lit up doorways at attentive people filling seats and coloring the old stone walls. 

We eventually found our way to an Italian restaurant with tables outside in the cobblestone courtyard, and sat at the foot of the weathered walls to eat pizza by lantern light. Have discovered that Lebanese wine from the Bekaa Valley is really nice. That and pizza; tasty! After dinner, the kindly maitre d' surprised us with small glasses of amaretto.  

By the time we left Byblos, the sky was flashing with dry lightning and thunder blasts.  This lasted into the night.  I slept indoors on a wall long couch.  I guess it's time to admit that "camping" consisted of a "chalet"  rented at the campground by Lucy and me.  It was a bit dicey... not the price ($60), or bathroom, couch or bed, but the ceiling mirror and "artwork"... which creeped us out.  The guys rented tent like "tengalows", which were modest in price and narrow on space.  Anyway, we survived the night, the weather, and the creepies.  (Getting home to my own bed will be nice indeed.)

This morning (Sunday) we sipped Nescafe from the top of the campground bluff, and gazed out at the Mediterranean Sea, broadly banded in dark and turquoise blues; gorgeous AND CALM, the Beirut skyline in the distance.  Suits on, we found a steep stairway that led us down the bluff to the sea's rocky edge. I followed Lucy, gingerly stepped out onto a large barnacle-covered rock that included a metal exit ladder, scoped out a bright blue area just below, and "Geronimo!!!"  The water was fabulous!  Had my goggles and braved looking down to see ripple patterns stretching as far as I could see in white sand, so beautiful. Anyway, the water was warm and luxurious, and I could swim or float like a cork with hardly any effort. It was a dream come true! After the anxiety of the past week, just right. 

As we drove back into Beirut, I was delighted by the "look" of the city, shiny clean from last night's rain, then shocked when I realized I was gawking at MY OWN NEIGHBORHOOD!  The view from the car gave a completely different look to the passing buildings and trees; yes TREES, lining the streets.  From the crowded sidewalk level you don't see the beauty as a whole. You see the broken walkway tiles, metal posts, occasional tree trunks, and all while weaving among passersby and other obstacles. So it was with great delight that I recognized that this beautiful area was My Neighborhood, Hamra. Back to "What's for dinner, Carolyn", laundry, and a shower to wash away Mediterranean salt.  Home Sweet Home.

Just what IS going on?

Many of you are wondering what's going on over here! It's unique being in a city rocked by a bomb blast, and as Carol emailed today, "Hope that's as close as it ever gets!"

It started Friday. I'd just taken my kids downstairs to the buses at 3:20. Tech teacher Barbara came over to ask me if I'd heard about the bomb.  "What bomb?"  She explained that a car bomb had gone off in Ashrafiyeh at 2:30 and that it was a mess. 15 kids from that neighborhood were being kept in the staff room until their parents could come to pick them up.

Whoa! I'd heard nothing. Too busy with my class, getting through the end of our day. I didn't know how to wrap my head around it. How many times had I heard about bomb blasts? London, Madrid, Baghdad...  But I'd never been close to one. All I could imagine was the chaos going on in that neighborhood at that very moment. I went down to the Library to turn in my book order. Jinane, the librarian, told me she lives in Ashrafiyeh, but was thankful that her kids were with their dad in the mountains that day. Her neighbor had called to say some of their windows were broken, that barricades were going up on the roads and would make it hard for her to get home. I looked at her as tears began to well up...

We soon learned that this was a political assassination; aimed at the Minister of Intelligence who died with his driver.  Texts were coming in from everywhere.  The bottom line?  Go home. Stay there. Weekend trips were postponed.

Arij texted me: "Carolyn, are you alone?  Do you want to come over?  spend the night here?"  I told her I was fine, and appreciated the invite. Then Saturday, "Carolyn, are you okay?"  I went over to visit her house and took Charlene.  We talked, even laughed, then went to a birthday celebration planned from the week before for Totally Todd, also new this year. Mike and Gretchen's flat was packed.  Todd brought out his guitar and sang to us, accompanied by Music teacher Ingrid on her violin.  I felt so much at ease, thinking of Kimmer, enjoying the moment.  It was just right; no place I'd rather be!

By Sunday, tension started to mount.  It was recommended by the locals that we plan to be home during and after the funeral, from 1 pm on. Thinking about Diane's advice, I madly swept out the flat with my short handled broom, mopped inside and out, then went downstairs to Charlene's and watched some of the funeral, in Arabic. Returned to my flat a while later to make a pot of "refrigerator soup" and applesauce, corrected papers, and got in some skype time with sister Liz and my Dad.  Kept an eye on Naharnet, the local Beirut news website, and school email. "The Ministry of Education recommends that students return to school Monday". School was on!

This morning young Kris was first through the classroom door.  He was agitated and wanted me to know that, "My house is okay, but our friends lost their windows!  We live really close to where the bomb exploded!  My dad and I go to that grocery store!"  As kids came in there was a hubbub about what they'd seen, heard, done over the weekend.  Most of it centered on their weekends "at home" playing games, watching movies, and eating popcorn. Two of my students did not make it to school this morning.  Three more were pulled from class during the course of the day.

From the teachers: Charlene showed me an iphoto sent to her that morning from a friend downtown.  It showed a group of black-masked men poised on a corner, rifles in hand.  Rania said it was the second night she'd heard gunshots in her neighborhood.  Sarah went home at noon today, worried that she had a long drive across town and there was news of snipers.  Lucy arrived at the airport last night. Her taxi driver had a hard time circumventing blocked roads to get her home. This morning, Charlene made the visa trip to the Security Office and described it as "Strange to see those big tanks and soldiers at the intersections."  We hear that the security forces are literally chasing down all gunmen and detaining them; doing everything they can to keep a lid on the simmering pot.

Meanwhile, I'm living in a bubble here in the Hamra neighborhood, a neighborhood that is very international, and surrounds the American University of Beirut and American Community School.  Our only clues that something is afoot? The increased numbers of soldiers and reduced traffic.  I have been watching the news, and getting most of my info on line.  It is very quiet; a silent night.

So what's it really like?  Surreal, but I can compare it to those days when the weather is for heavy snow.  I'd get that flutter in the stomach and wonder, "Am I ready? Do I need to get gas? batteries?  Will we have school tomorrow?"  That's how it's been here today. There is an anxiety that stirs the gut.  All after-school activities and sports events have been cancelled this week.

I happened to join the German Paster in the elevator on my way upstairs tonight. I asked him what he thought about our situation.  His hearty answer: "Give it a few more days to calm down. Hey, this is Lebanon!"  You've gotta smile at that!

It's Official!

          This morning was my first field trip, but without kids!  I was escorted out of school by Walid, after giving the reins to a substitute teacher.  Two other new hires, Paul and Andrew, were already in tow.  Our destination?  The heavily guarded Beirut Security Office.  Purpose? To make an appearance for our residence visas.  Back in August I was required to turn in my passport to the business department at school, and given a laminated copy. Today was the first time I've seen my passport, and see it was all I did. Walid is the school's resident "Visa Broker".  His job is to take each "foreign hire" through the process, made painless, of getting the residency visa.  He's been doing this for the past 20 years!  And our role?  To sit on the chairs at the back of the room. Walid waited in line for over an hour. There were three people ahead of him.
          It was nice to have Andrew and Paul along.  We talked about hot topics for foreigners;  our Lebanese banking experiences (comparing notes and banks), Food preparation and Eating (we concluded that those who cook and eat at home get sick less often), School related topics (just where is the "Rabbit Field"?), and Housekeepers.  Paul and Andrew each live in resident hotels, in other words, a hotel suite complete with counter, fridge and hotplate.  This set-up includes housekeeping; a maid who comes in to tidy up.  Many of the veteran staff have hired housekeepers who clean everything from floors to dishes to laundry for 10,000 LL an hour (less than $7 an hour). Others hire cooks who drop off meals.  My place is small, and I prefer to do the cooking myself (more of that "Spendthrift
mentality!")  But I DO enjoy cooking!  Anyway, we kept up a friendly banter until Walid waved us over to the counter.  The busy clerk gave us nothing more than a glance as Walid handed Paul a pen and pointed to the line where he should sign.  Then it was my turn, Andrew's turn, and that was it!
           We backtracked down the stairs and through the halls, waving our blue slips under the eyes of camo-dressed guards in each doorway before handing these off to guards at the exit door, and  back to the car we went.  I got to school as the students were out at recess; two and a half hours later.  At some point in the day I had a realization.  I am now part of some kind of IN crowd; I am an official resident of Lebanon! Should be getting my passport back any day now, and you know what that means?  The gates to travel are OPEN!

A Wee Bit Homesick

tWoke up Monday with a clear agenda: "This has been nice, but it's time to go home."  I shook myself awake.  5 a.m. "Carolyn, you aren't going home. You're getting up for your walk!"  Luckily, the walk part was true! Weird.  My dream seemed so reasonable, and the clarity of the thought stayed with me for a long time.  Before I could feel sad, I hopped out of bed to meet Lucy for our early walk to the Corniche.  So glad I had that reason to get up and go; grateful to have someone else to help me laugh it off!

Temperatures have dropped into the 20's celsius, which means the 80's for us Fahrenheit folks.  In other words, I can wear my long pants again.  Sometimes I even forget to turn on the AC when I get home... remarkable!  Had my building buddies over for dinner on the balcony last night.  We ate outside to Nora Jones and the ever present honking of cars below.  It's nice being 4 stories up!  But traffic on our one lane street is busy.  You wouldn't think so to see it, but 5 or more cars lined up spells HONK HONK HONK!  We enjoyed our dinner.  I ran into fajita mix at a little market.  The corn tortillas were already in the freezer, and salsa on the shelf.  Time to put it all together!  Lebanese apples went into a crisp; gluten free, and oh so good. I love the smell of apples and cinnamon; HOMEY!

This life is mentally and physically demanding.  Besides a new classroom and culture to adjust to, there's a whole new way of shopping, laundering, cooking, and even cleaning.  I mean, what a learning curve!  I've always been a homebody.  I've always loved my kitchen and all the equipment in my home.  When I arrived here to my fully furnished apt, the toilet seat was hanging by a hinge, the AC didn't work, and I couldn't figure out how to turn on the stove. Why did the sink have two faucets? Yeah, I have two faucets in the kitchen sink!  One is for cooking water and the other is for cleaning dishes.  Neither is drinking water.  That comes from a bottle.  I make a weekly trip to the corner market and carry home a large container of water. This I pour into smaller liter sized bottles that fit in my little fridge.

The my fully furnished cleaning tools include a mop/bucket, small sponges, and a tiny broom on a 2 foot handle.  Can you picture that?  Sweeping a tile floor using a broom with a 2-ft handle?  Well, that's what I've been doing. (Please laugh; it IS silly!) Luckily my friend Lucy has offered me her extra broom...  I know; I'm such a cheapskate!

Laundering takes place on the 8th floor.  I share two stacking machines with the building.  There is no schedule; it's first come, first served.  I've learned that if I'm up before 7 a.m., I can use both machines at once.  They are quite small.  Two bath towels, a hand towel, a couple of dish towels, and these things are full!  The water is harsh.  I've opted to hand wash quite a few of my shirts, pants, and underwear.  I have a drying rack that has become a permanent fixture in my bedroom.  I told you about those mini power blinks? Well, every time we have one of those the machines stop, and the dryers don't restart.  That's another trip to the top floor... but I usually just go up there to find my laundry as wet as when I put it in the dryer, so downstairs it comes to the drying rack.

My feet are holding up very well, thank you.  This is important, because it is my feet and legs that allow this life style to work.  I walk EVERYWHERE:  school, upstairs, downstairs, market, AUB, pool, and then home again.  Walking is the glue that keeps it all going, and I really appreciate it.  Exercise au naturel... just the way I like it.  I'm really trying to find home here.  I do miss my kids, my dad and family, my friends... I miss the green trees and clear clean air.  Homesickness rolls in and out, part of the landscape.  I'm just thankful for have so much and so many to miss!

Courage

My Saturday started with an early Skype call with Marguerite who IS coming to Beirut in November, in spite of all the press to the contrary.  We've had several emails.  "Would you make this trip if you were me?" she asked.  "Yes, but get traveler's insurance; that way you don't have to worry."  Marguerite's courage takes me back to my own journey and a conversation I had with Phil last night. "We each took a leap of faith," he reminded, this being his third year in Beirut.  I looked around the room at the "new" Americans attending Friday night's potluck: Joe and Jessica, Lolita, and Charlene, Susan and Henry, and Totally Todd, all crowded on couches with our new Lebanese friends in the "Senior Lounge".  It was a great relief to be on this shore, and on this side of all those doubts.

The ACS staff was invited to a reception in Headmaster Damon's rooftop garden, to meet new personnel from the U.S. embassy.  Only a few came, Ambassador Maura Connelly being among them.  Talk about courage?  With all the uproar of the past two months, these people have been under the tightest security.  They are not allowed to leave the embassy compound except on carefully preplannned outings, this being one of them.  A handful came, but late, and were preceded by security guards, complete with those curly wired ear phones, who arrived first.  It was such an honor to meet and talk with these Americans.  Azza, so gracious and warm, has worked for the US all over the world.  This is her first position in the Middle East.  I met Ambassador Connelly, and learned that she was the only person in her family who had the desire to serve and work outside the US, which she's been doing ever since college.  She is a tall, white haired woman.  You can read her bulletins on the US Embassy, Beirut, website.

Talk about a "leap of faith"?  Mine was what I was able and determined to take.  But I've thought about this process and how it works for each of us.  I can only imagine what a soldier goes through, who is "assigned" duty in Afghanistan, or some other not-so-friendly outpost.  We each take our "leaps" as we go through life, every day.  Look at Mary, and her decision to retire.  Or Diana's move to the mainland.  Then there's Pam and her pending surgery, and my sister with her challenging ankle and move to California.  My Dad is adjusting to his new pacemaker. Talk about courage and that leap of faith?  I'm in awe of you all.

Your apples, Miss...

      It was Wednesday and I was free after school.  My watch band had given out, so I asked Hasmig where I might find a replacement. She described a shop "just up the road from the Plaza Pharmacy". Oh, those directions! It's always a challenge to follow them. You see, street names hardly exist, especially on all the tiny side streets.  We use landmarks to describe destinations.  For example, just today I asked Lucy if The Backyard restaurant we visited last night was up the road from "Bubbles".  She knew exactly what I was talking about, because we pass a sign that says Bubbles on our way home from morning walks.  "Is it past the Hummus guy?", further refining the search. Yes, she answered; "same block".
       Well, I found the Plaza pharmacy and stopped in to get a prescription filled.  From there, on to the jewelry shop.  What I did find, was a very small shop, a hole in the wall, you'd say.  The man there, working at his counter, came to the door to let me in.  "No English" he said.  I showed him my broken watch band.  "Oh, know good man," and described to me in English and Arabic the name of a shop that was next to a perfume shop, and pointed toward Hamra.  Smarter than usual, I asked him to write the name of the shop for me, which he did, in Arabic.  Off I went with my paper.  I got to Hamra and walked in the direction he'd indicated.  I showed my paper to a shop keeper standing in her doorway.  She pointed to the corner and waved a left turn. A ways down that street I showed my paper to another shopkeeper, who waved ahead, "See blue? (a dumpster) There!"  I walked another 20 yards, and sure enough, "Daoud"was printed on the window.  The jeweler buzzed me in.  (Jewelers keep their doors locked until they size up the customer.)  I showed him my watch band.  He pulled out a box and I pointed, "black one, please!"  "That'll be 10 dollars." (= to 15,000 Lebanese Lira).  Lira notes are small and easily get lost in your bag or purse.  As I pulled out bill after bill, up to 12,000 or $8 worth, the shop keeper said "Good! Enough!"  "Shukleen! (Thank you!) I said, surprised, and out I went, happy to wear my watch again.  I was feeling pretty successful!
       On my way home, I decided to stop at a vendor's cart and get some apples.  They looked like golden delicious; fresh from the tree.  "6 apples, please" I said.  The vendor carefully chose six nice ones. "2,500" ($1.50) he said.  As I was searching through my bag, a young girl was suddenly beside me, body space of no consequence, speaking Arabic and pointing to my purse; a street beggar.  My instincts were saying don't do it.  She was persistent, and shockingly so.  I scrambled around in my bag for the apple money, for the smallest bill I could find, feeling that I didn't want her to see anything larger.  I handed a 5,000 note to the vendor, who handed me change; 2-1,000 notes and a 500 coin.  The girl by now had her hand on my wrist.  I dropped the coin into her hand, but that's not what she wanted.  She proceeded to follow my hand back to my bag.  As I pulled away, the vendor came to my rescue:  "La La La!  (*&(^%*" he shouted,  (No, no, no! Scram!)  She darted off, joined by another young girl, no more than 12 or 13.  She flashed me a naughty grin. I said to the vendor, "Hard times", and started away.
       A ways down the street, still feeling shaken, a hand was held in front of me holding a bag of apples!  "Your apples, Miss..." said the vendor.  I smiled my thanks, and then continued home.  It was the first time I've cried in a while.  I cried about the kind vendor who had looked out for me.  I cried for the young girl who had learned to be so aggressive for reasons I could only imagine, and I cried, feeling lucky that given a situation like that, nothing worse had happened.  I had been a traitor to my instinct, which told me to refuse that girl.  What I had done was reinforce the very behavior I detested. I reviewed my lesson that day:  Trust yourself, and stand firm.  Be clear about your intentions and communicate them.  I'll know better next time.  

Camping Trip

Hammana Hikers: Friends, Fossils, and FUN!

Fabio arrived to pick us up and all I knew was I'd be sharing a ride with Lucy, Julianne, and Sato. As soon as I met Sato it was clear that Julianne, Sato, and I were NOT going to fit in the backseat. Julianne loaded into the rental car with Phil, Mike, Gretchen, and Josie. Sato turned out to be Fabio's very broad black lab. "Don't pet him, don't even look at him!" Fabio warned me as he hoisted Sato's back end into car.  He'd put the seat down flat for Sato's sitting spread.  However, it became clear after a good ear lickin', that Sato preferred my lap, or the "center" seat.  I began pointing his snout away from me after the first salvo of doggie slurp landed on my lap.  Just how long WAS this drive to the mountain top?  I have to say that with all the lab training I've received from Liz and Jake, I knew Sato and I would eventually hit it off.  It wasn't long before I could lay my arm across his back without setting off enthusiastic overtures of slurpy love.  Sato settled in, and so did I.

We were heading up the Damascus Highway. You realize quickly that the "country" isn't the wild open expanses we're accustomed to in the west. There are rocky mountain tops in the distance, but rocks and houses are everywhere in between.  Now and then you see stands of "umbrella trees", which are beautiful tall trunk pines with umbrella tops, so graceful.  You also see some patches of cedar and fir tucked into nooks and folds.  The land has been sculpted by human hands for centuries.Terraces of stone step their way up the mountain sides. The highway is a steep, winding climb. I could picture long ago caravans filing up a trail that has now become a highway lined on both sides by shops, houses, and motels. The snaking road and traffic were challenging Saturday morning, but Fabio remained Fearless!

We arrived at Andre and Nathalie's country home.  In front was an expansive green lawn; first I've seen in Lebanon! Their new home, shutters open to the breeze, is still growing. Below that is a pond with talking frogs. We walked through shady stands of cedar and fir trees, and visited a large acre of vegetables: tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, and peppers. An extensive drip system  provided just the right amount of water to the plants. Otherwise, the ground was parched dry.  It was obvious that they spend a lot of time at work on their property.

9 of us loaded into the back of a pick up truck, and up to the end of the bridge we went.  The truck dropped us off and we began our hike along the ridge top.  From above we had a fabulous view.  We spotted Andree's green grass, the red tiled roofs of Hammana, and way beyond, mountain slopes tumbling back toward Beirut. We noted the abundant goat droppings underfoot, then came upon a herd of 40 or so goats being herded by boy shepherds. Besides goal pellets, we saw a great number of plastic shotgun shells.  Andree told us people come up to shoot birds, any birds. As we hiked along, we came to trenches lined with rocks that had been left by the French army during WWI.  These were no more than 2 feet wide, 6+ feet deep, and strategically zigzagged along, never straight.  We entered the pitch black of a bunker; reminding me of Fort Casey.  It was about this time that Karim, ACS Middle School Principal, began pointing out the fossils!  He grew up on this land, and he picked up fossils all along the path. There were conch like shells as big as my fist, large spiraling snail shapes, and sea urchin fossils as big as walnuts.  We all kept our eyes peeled for the round smooth shapes.  At one time, this land was covered by the sea.  How long ago?  Tens of thousands of years?  And here I thought that terraces were the oldest things to see.  We also saw baby cedars planted on the hillsides, in all stages of growth.  Karim told us that the villagers had been replanting the cedars for many years, but they are very slow growing trees.  It was good to see the baby trees, freshly watered.

Veggie Prep

Bar B Que Brigade

We arrived back at the farm by 4pm, and began the meal prep.  Lebanese wine with hummus, salsa and bread aided the cooks as they cut up veggies which we made into foil packets for the BBQ.  Fabio prepared his chicken legs seasoned Lebanese style, and Nathalie presented us with a lovely lentil salad.  She told us the secret ingredient was "pomegranate molasses" mixed with olive oil and vinegar. Julianne kept the laughs going with her tale of Jad, the skier, whom she'd met a couple of weeks back, and who was taking her skiing this winter.  "His name is pronounced /jjjjod/, not Jad!" she defended.  The guys teased her about meeting Jad's wife and children up on the slopes...

After finishing several bottles of Marquis de Beys wine, tasting Julianne's passion flower Hawaiian liqueur, and Fabio's Spanish cherry anise digestif, it was off to the tents, time to rough it... We each suffered on our 4 inch deep foam mattresses with sleeping bags.  It was the first time in my life that I had a tent all to myself(!) and I slept like a rock.

Luckily, I was awake before the shooting began at 6 a.m. I'd been listening to a scattering of bird calls, and thinking how few bird sounds there were.  Was this due to the scarcity of trees?  Suddenly BOOM BOOM seemed to come out from under my pillow; YIKES!  What a way to wake up on a peaceful Sunday morning.  Shots continued, near and far. Fall hunting season had begun.
Nathalie explained that, in truth, "Hunting season goes all year 'round!  Men and their guns..."
I wondered, "What are they shooting at?"
"Birds. Small birds. Any bird that is perched or flying; any bird they can hit.  It's rather disgusting, because they don't bother to pick them up."
Yes, disturbing!  I was thinking of the shortage of birds EVERYWHERE, from Beirut to the country. We saw men with shotguns walking down the sidewalk.  I couldn't, and still can't, understand the sport in shooting little birds. It was so much fun to watch them at the feeders back home.  Come to think of it, I haven't seen a bird feeder here.

In spite of hunting frenzy, it was a wonderful weekend.  Got to spend time with some great people, in a new and fascinating place.  As I struggled with the bird dilemma, I also understood that this is what I am here for; to be bowled over.  It really makes me think about what's important, and grateful to be WIDE AWAKE to life.  All of us expressed delight in being at Andree and Nathalie's country home. The comfort of being outside in the cooler air, hearing a funny new frog language, and being together?  It was perfectly refreshing.  Clean air, friendship, fossils, and laughter.  It was so much more than I'd expected!

One month today!

Lebanese Lira; pretty money!

It's been one month since I arrived in Beirut.  It's been a long month.  We don't get our first paycheck until the end of September.  Thank goodness South Whidbey School District paid me August 31st.  It's easy to get cash from the ATM using a debit card.  My last $200 withdrawal cost me $4 from US Bank.  I also use a VISA card from the Credit Union that charges only 1% on all purchases; best I could find.  So, I'm doing okay.  Getting used to the money system.  My earlier conversion formula from LL (Leb. lira) into dollars is greatly simplified.  If an avocado costs 3,000LL, that translates into $2.  If a meal costs 24,000 LL, that is the same as $16.  Take the 3 zeros off of 24,000, so 24.  Think 2/3 of 24, and that's 16, the cost in USD.  The other way around?  Something costs $8 American, that's 12,000 LL.  Easy!  Vendors accept dollars as readily as they accept lira.  There is some loss when using dollars, as everything doesn't cleanly convert into thirds. But in every way so far, Beirut is a very American friendly place.

Did I ever mention in this blog that my classroom has a view?  Here it is... Oh My Gosh!

If it weren't for traffic noise, I believe I could hear the waters washing up onto the rocky Corniche!  As it is, I can see the waves; incredibly nice. This is the view from my 4th story classroom.  We have an intercom to the office; no phone.  I have a key to my classroom.  There are guards posted at the outer perimeter gates, 24/7, who wave us onto campus.

Kids have a 20-minute morning snack at 10:00.  They have a 20minute lunch at 1:20pm.  Both meals are eaten in class with teachers.  In order to have time to eat, the food is delivered to our classrooms, both the snack and later the lunch, by an army of cafeteria workers.  They climb the stairs with the trays, bottled water, and paper bags.  It's an amazing system.  As soon as my school day ends, 3 people are in my room.  One is running the feather duster over all the surfaces.  Another follows her with a wet cloth, to wipe down all the surface, and scrub out the sink.  A third vacuums rugs.  Meanwhile, the first woman finishes up by dust mopping of all tiled floor surfaces.  Boggling, but great!

I start at 7:30 a.m. in my classroom.  Kids arrive early, but are sent up to the rooftop for recess.  At 7:50 they are released to come to class.  I greet them at the door; engrained from SWES.  We start class at 8 a.m.  School goes until 3:20.  You teachers know this is an extra hour of school!  Well, the kids have an hour of Arabic every day.  This becomes plan and team time.  We are on a 6-day revolving cycle.  In other words, every 6 days they have ART twice, French 3X, PE 3X, Music 2X, Computer class once, and Library once.  I also have 3 lunch recess duties, one a day for 3 consecutive days. "%$*&$%!!!"  and that's all I have to say about that. We watch 63 4th graders on the roof.  It's as big as two basketball courts in size... surrounded by chain link fencing to keep kids and equipment on the roof.  This amounts to one soccer game, one tetherball game, 4 basketball hoops, and two mats that readers and small groups can sit on.  There's a climbing wall, but the mats are so hard to hang up, that we prefer not to pull them down, so wall climbing is out.  There's also a pull up bar.  Kids line up for all these activities.  It is close quarters.  I dream of our giant fields of grass back home... all that space for 4-square, tetherball, cover areas for basketball... the climbing toys.  Oh well.  These kids don't know what they're missing.  Chin up Ms. Carolyn!

Arabian Music

I asked Arij, my delightful 4th grade colleague, "Just what is that man singing from the mosque?"  She laughed at me, then explained, "He's singing prayers; calling the people to pray."  During our last skype call, sister Liz wanted to know if the chanting was live, or taped.  Arij explained that it is often taped, but is live on Fridays at noon, the Islamic Sunday equivalent, when the message is delivered from the loudspeakers for all to hear.

I hear two voices intertwining from cross town mosques at this moment.  Their voices almost seem to create a counterpoint, one sings, then the other. It's 7:06pm, and the sun is setting.  I do enjoy the music, so different to my ear.

On my way home, walking the Corniche along the Sea, I giggled as people drove past, loudspeakers blaring out Arabic rock.  I mean LOUD.  Why would I complain?  When we rode the bus home from Massaya Vineyard a week ago, the bus driver put LOUD Arabic music over the speaker system, and we were in the aisles, dancing (or at least trying to do those figure 8s), all the way down the mountain to Beirut and THROUGH Beirut. Life in Beirut is LOUD, PERIOD.

  

It's Saturday morning

It's a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning.  I heard that Seattle is in the 60's, chance of showers...Now that does sound far away.  We're having continuing hot humid days.  My AC is not working again.  Power outage on our block due to broken transformer since Thursday.  This is the third day without AC. Our building generator keeps the lights and fridge running, but not enough power for AC.  Today is a national holiday because Pope Benedict is in town!  More to the point, the power repairmen are on strike.  We are told that we may be without AC for an indefinite amount of time.  As I sit here, I am comfy after a cool shower and towel off, but beginning to feel that trickle of moisture running down my front... oh well.  It's another hot day about to get hotter. This is how we NWesterners toughen up!

Did I tell you that Lebanese food is the healthiest food I've eaten?  Think about grilled veggies and meats, salads, fresh fruits (apples, grapes, oranges, pomegranates, pears), and nuts.  They don't mess them up with deep frying or coatings of flour.  Their foods are a sensory experience... tastes and smells of fresh lemon, mint, herbs... it's unbelievable.  We eat many legumes such as garbanzo beans and lentils.  Rice is everywhere.  Pita bread is eaten with hummus, and boy, is it good!  The more lemony, the more I like it.  Cheeses are prolific, everything from yogurt (labneh) to goat, sheep, and cow cheeses.  People prefer beer, wine, and fruit juices to milk.  You don't see anyone drinking milk, even at school, just bottled water.

I am about to brave the taxi world; told "Trust Taxi" is the one to call!  Before you get in the taxi, you negotiate the price.  Otherwise, you pay whatever the driver chooses.  I'm going to make arrangements for several of us to share the fare and go to Beirut's Costco, a new adventure. With the Pope in town, we may be told it's not possible.  Many streets are being closed this weekend for his security.  I don't really know where Costco is....  Wish me luck!  Phone calls can lead to adventure... I hope they speak EEngleesh!  Here's to You!

Pope in Beirut this weekend

With the Middle East all in an uproar over a 1-bit movie made by an anti-Muslim radical, Pope Benedict stepped off the plane at the Beirut airport today, praising Lebanon for its ethnic and religious diversity.  With all the protesting going on elsewhere, I have never felt more safe here.  There are many Americans who live in this area.  The Lebanese people seem to understand that one film, put out by an individual like this one, doesn't represent the views of the vast majority of Americans.  Thank goodness for that.  This is an amazing city.  People live together, work together, and show respect for one another every day; it's the way of this city.  I'm so glad to be here; to be able to tell you this. 

Massaya Winery, Bekaa Valley

30 of us climbed out of the bus and onto the vineyard grounds.  We remarked over the ancient olive trees that formed the perimeter for rows and rows of grapes.  We found ourselves on a lavender lined walkway, heading toward a fenced stand of trees and awnings. We heard water trickling into a long troughlike fountain, with roses about, as we arrived at the "oasis" that would be our resting and eating place for the afternoon hours. Right away I noticed the woman with her large upturned black metal-like bowl over a brassier of coals, patting out pita and laying it on the hot "bowl" to bake. This was my first time to see pita being made.

Ryan (HS English) and Amanda from Cle Elum

Lovely Ladies who Cooked Lunch for us

Woman Baking Pita

While it was hot off the oven, she spread it with zatar, herbal and tasty, or a mystery buttery mixture that was delicious too.  I took mine to the huge plank table and chose a tomato, then sliced and added it to my pita. There were olives and Labneh, a thick white yogurt, to add. Then we selected from a basketful of greens:  mint, arugula, baby romaine, and many others I cannot name.  YUMMY!  Lucy warned me, "Carolyn, there's a lot more to come!"  She was so right. From there, we feasted!  And we drank liberally of the Massaya red, white, and rose wines, culminating in ARAK, a liqueur that came out of a TALL blue bottle, and tasted like licorice (like oozo?).  Anyway, it was pretty.  Took lots of pics; will add some here.  After hours of feasting, talking, meandering about, eating more, and taking photos, we visited the winery shop and purchased t-shirts,   bought bottle openers, and of course, wine; many bottles of wine.  We loaded ourselves onto the bus to go back over the mountains to Beirut.

I've got to tell you, the winery was splendid and uniquely Lebanese; the kind of place I'd like to take you when you come to visit me in Beirut! 

As the bus took off, Juls' bluesy voice belted out "Summertime" and we joined her. That's how the singing got started. We moved on to "Ain't No Mountain High Enough..".."We will, We will rock you"...  and that was only the beginning.  We sang even when we forgot the words!  By this time, someone had pulled the cork on Andrew's wine, and it along with another bottle or two were making the rounds.  What started at the back of the bus, spread throughout the bus; singing, clapping, and uncorking.  At the top of the mountain the bus driver must've gotten tired of our American music, because he put Arabic music over the PA, and that's when the dancing began.  Yes, we were DANCING IN THE AISLE OF THE BUS as it wound its way along. Most ALL of us danced, in some form.  It was just a riot of clapping dancing, laughing, and passing the wine bottles. I have to say that it was the most memorable bus ride of my entire life. And it didn't stop when we entered Beirut city limits!!!

Back in Beirut, we joined our brave principal in her 9th floor apt.  By contrast, it was beautiful; serene.  We gathered on her outside deck, now night time, enjoying views of the Med and surrounding city. By this time I was back to water, and getting better acquainted with colleagues.  It was lovely and calm; just happy.  I loved talking with Gretchen, Andree, and Lucy. Lucy and I left our Principal's apt and had a pleasant walk home, along Bliss Street. 

It is a lovely Saturday night, and people are enjoying the outside restaurants.  Beirut is a night time city, especially during the hot summer months.  You can walk out onto the street and find everything alive and open at 11pm.  It's a different lifestyle.  I've always been, still am, a day person. Can't imagine that that could change, but on weekends, Maybe?  As for tonight, Time for bed!