Today's Morning Swim

Rainbow siting on my way to the swimming rocks.  Ali was waiting for me and Ingrid, but no word from Ingrid, who must be on a graduation trip with her son,Will.  The sea was a playground of waves, and lovely for swimming.  We swam to the Sansour (seawall) and had fun catching waves that carried us up to the top of the seawall, where we allowed ourselves to be lifted up, grabbing at the slippery top of the wall, only to be pulled back down.  These waves ("moj") were big, but round and friendly; joyful. 

These are my swimming friends, Ali is on my right, orange. They decided to celebrate our birthdays today with brownies, little cakes, and fresh fruits that I've never eaten before; delicious.  "Happy Birthday to Carolyn!" "Happy Birthday to Ali!" (and no, my birthday is not in June!).... While singing, the rain began to pour!  Quick, eat those brownies! Cover the cakes!  

Getting wet from above was ironic, but I enjoyed every drop. 

Tomorrow Hasna (pink, center) invited me to join them in the Chouf, reserve, for a hike among the oak trees.  We will picnic in the Jabal (mountains).  

With report cards to write, I have to get cracking!  

Nothing like a little outdoor inspiration to 

get the job done.

20 days left in Lebanon.

Don't ask me how it feels; you already know.

It's only tea

Hilal passes out smiles and hot tea after swim

This message came to me tonight from Hilal, the swim friend who brings us that cup of hot tea after our swim.  He prepares it on his camp stove out on the rock; the best tea in Beirut! He says his secret ingredient is cardamon. But I know better. It's pure, simple, kindness.  His message:

Hi , I know it's Saturday it's only for tea with milk, but I want to tell you that we felt sad when we knew about your traveling , we spent with you a little time but believe me you entered our heart , you show us how lovely and friendly you are , it's life sweet and sour , little sweet make our life better , I wish you always be blessed by God , Thank you

How to reply? I was so touched. I tried. Today I think he and Beydoun waited for Ali, Ingrid and me, as they had finished their swim earlier. I wrote back: 

Dear Hilal, it's tea and so much more.  Sometimes you find yourself in amazing circumstances, with caring, thoughtful people, and there's so much joy.  Thank you for your tea and the kindness that comes with it.  I am heart broken about leaving, especially after discovering such a wonderful group of swimmers on the rocks.  I wonder Why now?  Why when leaving is so soon.  But it is wonderful, and I hope to join you and swim every chance I can. Your love for one another is a joy to behold, and a blessing that will go on and on. You chose to share with a stranger!  I am so grateful.
  

Thank you for your good wishes, Hilal. We have a lot of swimming and tea drinking to do!  

fondly, Carolyn

Happy Birthday!

Today on the rock, before our swim, there was a birthday cake complete with rousing chorus and clapping! Samir also brought special nut pudding for everyone in honor of his new baby grandson.  This group knows how to enjoy / uplift each other, and they do it every week. They celebrate life! And Hilal is always on hand with the steamy hot tea. These friends have taught me so much about love, friendship, and kindness. I am truly blessed.

Falougha Hike

"Sure, I'll hike with you Sunday!" I told Hasna, new friend, a woman, and future swimmer.  But I wondered later, what I had agreed to. Would it be a John Wayne style "Attack that Hill!" kind of hike?  The 20 km up and down scramble that kills knees and crushes toes? Would it possibly be a friendly hike? Who was going? Where? Would I have a place to leave things?  A toilet to ...?   I threw tissue into my bag. But no matter. It was a chance to spend time making new friends, not speaking a lot of English, maybe learning some Arabic, and having a day to remember.  Beneath my worries I felt like the luckiest person in Beirut.

On Sunday morning Ibrahim, taxi driver, drove me across town to the designated meeting place; Fayad Sports.  It was early and vendors were carting their fruits to market.  I asked the watermelon man  if I could take a picture of him with his cart.  Startled, he (yellow shirt) ducked out of the way, so Hasna and gang quickly filled in:

Hasna, Georges, Hassan, Hassan, and Coach

We loaded up cars; I in backseat of Hasna's car, and off we went.  Georges was driving so I asked Hasna, "Where are we going?"  She kindly typed "Falougha la Martinez mountain" on my ipad.  We took the road to Damascus.  At the pass, we turned left at sign, "Falougha" where we soon stopped next to a field full of baby goats.  The guys caught and held them up for photos!  I found a big rock across the road and .....  Then cars were reloaded and we drove to a little tree filled valley, where picnic blankets and baskets were soon spread about.  Plastic bags of food were hung from tree limbs, away from varmints. Here were wives, cousins, children, aunts and uncles; over 50 people!
I began to relax. Children! I suspected that this would be a friendly hike after all.

And so it was!  Except none of the young girls or women wanted to hike.  "Come hike with us!" I urged one fit young woman in jeans. "I don't like to walk," she replied. For the next hour we enjoyed mannouche, hot tea, and other tasties, such as chocolate croissants (!) offered to us by many hands. It was clear that no one was in a hurry to leave camp.

At some indistinct moment, senior Abdul Wahab started up the road and we were off. When we arrived at the paved road, Abdallah Absi pointed out a Lebanese flat waving over a stand of young cedar trees. "The first Lebanese flag was raised here in 1943!  Yallah / Let's go!"  Suddenly, Abdul Wahab left the road and charged into the grove.  Up we climbed through cedar undergrowth, until we reached the flag.  I was directed to take video while all the rest stood beneath the flag and sang out Lebanese National Anthem with great gusto; throwing of hats at the end.

From there we were on a dirt road that we followed up toward a small peak, Mt Martinez (?).  Our hike was punctuated by frequent stops; no photo opp was left untaken; "Facebook" was the rallying cry!  We had so much fun with picture taking, that I didn't even notice how far we had gone; my kind of hike!

On our way back we took a wrong turn and ended up taking some little trips through the rocks and grass. We saw the Falougha water bottling plant close up, even tasted its sweet water straight from the aqua-fir. We saw below the red rooftops of several villages. Further out was Beirut looking like a spread of gray concrete, its tiny pop up box high rises in the distance, Ain Mreisseh! The cloud covered Sea met the horizon beyond.

It was after 3 pm by the time we made our way back into the little tree filled valley.  I was quickly taught Arabic words, the victor's song, and We (mostly THEY!) sang our way into camp.  The women set up table with food; a giant potluck meal.  Everything good was there to taste: a potato dish, lentils, kebeh, spinach and meat stuffed breads, grape leaves, hommos, pasta, water and Hilal's hot tea.  Many of the women were covered, head to toe, in the robe like cover ups. Most women wore the traditional Muslim head scarves.  A few women were not covered.  I immediately appreciated that these families had all waited for us to return before eating.  I watched these women oversee the meal; moving food to the tables, trash into the bags; putting empty containers away.  Everything was cleared and picked up at the end.  Tables were folded and moved back into vehicles.  I enjoyed a cup of Hilal's steamy hot tea.

Now we walked about our picnic area for a few parting shots: 

A day to remember! Hamdallah!

Cedars of Lebanon

The Chouf

Tim's and Liz's parting wish: 

to visit the Cedars of Lebanon.  

We hired a taxi, got off to an early start and were hugging trees under the early morning sun.

These cedars are beloved and protected in Lebanon. 

They grow slowly in the high mountains. 

From the cedar grove, we switch backed our way down down down into the Qadisha Valley. There we visited a monastery, Ermitage St. Elisee, and 

bought lovely olive oil made from the trees outside.

Finally a favorite parting picture.  

Terracing is evident on mountain slopes throughout the valleys of Lebanon.  

Imagine ancient times when these rock steps were built?  

This and the beauty of the mountains is breathtaking.

Spring Break Adventure, April 2014

April launched with Liz's arrival in Beirut, gathered momentum with our visit the reef in Sharm El Sheikh, and reached a crescendo in Cairo at Scheller's wedding reception.  

Liz's first wish? To soak her feet in the salty Mediterranean Sea. 

A week later we flew to Sharm El Sheikh (tip of Sinai Peninsula) for snorkeling and rest:

Snorkeling in the Red Sea was like swimming IN the aquarium!

Next? On to Cairo to meet up with Liz's daughter Scheller, her new Egyptian husband Ahmed, her son Tim, Scheller's long time "friend of honor", Ella, and Mahmoud, Ahmed's best man.  All gathered to celebrate the marriage of Scheller and Ahmed in the town of Fayoum, their new home and Ahmed's childhood home, 1 hour south of Cairo:

Giza:  Hip Hip Hooray!

 Ahmed's sisters and their children and friends, at the Wedding Reception in Fayoum.

We danced to boom box, "Happy" and ate delicious Egyptian foods made by loving hands.

Scheller and Ahmed

 aboard wedding camel in front of the Great Pyramid in Giza!

Wishing ALL Our Best to the Happy Bride and Groom! 

As for Egypt?  Amazing!

My Lebanon II

I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE with my corner of Lebanon.  This area where I live next to the sea, is a 15 minute walk from school, a walk to singing rehearsal, a 5 minute walk to AUB campus, and next to Hamra, the shopping district. It is everything I need.


What is there to love?
The people.
        I am humbled by these kind people, who accept this obviously tall, 61+ year old American woman. This morning was a grand sunrise swim out to the floats and back, capped off with hot cardamon tea prepared over a camp stove on the beach, and a fancy boxed birthday cake topped with sparklers.                   Ingrid and I have been accepted by a swim club; a group of men who have been meeting every morning, going on 20 years.  The group is made of swimmers of all ages; from easy old timers, to young and fast. We swim "sans Baleche", French for "without cost", and since one pays to swim at most beaches, Sans Baleche is OUR beach.
         There's something about swimmers... They are the best!  Once out in the water, I look up seeing white foam kicking up all around, like being in a pack of dolphins....  It is joyful being part of the pod, heading for the floats. The first ones to arrive wait for the later ones, then all are off to the next marker. We reach the floats about 500 meters off shore, and pause to look back at a miniature Beirut... so beautiful. Then it's time to strike a new course back towards the city, angling toward the tall green rooftop on the campus of "I.C." or International College.  I must clarify, by this time, the main pod is far ahead. Ali, the protector, stays back with Ingrid and me, keeping an eye on us.  He is a good man, and a strong swimmer.
         It's amusing to watch the men tease and jostle with one another, in and out of the water. "Is your birthday next week?" I am asked playfully.  We celebrated Fadi's birthday last week, and now George's this week.  The cakes are fashionable by ANY standard; decorated with glazed fruit, whipped cream ribbons, sprinkles, with an edible chocolaty Happy Birthday card on top.  It's obvious that these men love to celebrate!  And they do so with class.  "Sure!" I answer, but then admit my birthday was last February.  "Then we must celebrate it next week!" they cheer.  I can only laugh at these antics.  The teasing doesn't stop!
         Ali walks me back along the Corniche.  He crosses the road with me, ever the protector.  I struggle to find words to say in Arabic.  Finally I sputter, "Shokrun Ali!  B'heb ispar wa inta." (Thank you Ali! I like swimming with you.)  His answers with a smile, lousy Arabic aside.  There is a long pause while I search for words to say. But he is first, something about heading to the sea wall (Sansour), and a laugh.  The guys were teasing him about swimming to the seawall; a long LONG swim that we didn't do.  I couldn't follow the whole train of conversation, but each time it was repeated there was great laughter. Ali was laughing too. Ingrid and I were left scratching our heads.... Think I'll let that one slide.

Thus begins a another wonderful Saturday in Beirut.

My Lebanon

This morning I was up to meet Ali for a swim in the salty water.

We meet on the Corniche at 7 am, at the tall antenna, our getting in place.  The water temp is 18, about 64 degrees F, and it feels screamin' COLD.  Swimming is the only way to warm up. By the time we are heading back to the AUB antenna, my hands feel hard as wooden paddles, and I'm just pulling for all I'm worth.  But I LOVE it: seeing the white sand, rocks, fish and deep blue all around.  It is a swim  of wonders.  Ali saw a jellyfish!  I didn't see that, but need to keep my eyes on the look out.  There are motor boats and occasional jet skis, and until today, I thought these were all I had to avoid.  We swim in groups and wear brightly colored swim caps.  Some people wear big floats tied to their waists.  But the important thing is to swim together.

All was well this morning until I realized I was an hour early... it was just going on 6 am. The sun was up, however, so I decided to warm up with a walk.  On the way  back, I stopped to take pictures of the silly men and their antics.  These guys were jumping off a rock, making a great show of shouting (in Arabic), and counting on one another.  Here are those pics:

Young Abdallah with his uncle, grandmother, and daughter-mother

While watching the men being boys, I noticed this adorable child, and asked his mother if I could take his picture.  She said it was ok.  We began to talk; she in her lovely English.  Her mother-in-law, younger than me, spoke in Arabic... from which I could pick out some words, namely, 4 sons! By the time my swimmer friend Ali arrived, I was taking pictures and turning down an invitation to their house; Time to swim!  

Abdallah

These men, a Swimming-Running Club, meet and swim every day at 7 am.  They bring their campstove to prepare the hot tea, and carry in brownies and yummies to eat before and after the swim.  While Ali and I swim along the shore, to the marina wall and back, these guys swim straight out into the sea 750 meters, then back. As swimmer Ibrahim explained, "Beirut looks like this (he holds up his hand; no wider than his hand, all compacted), and this (the antenna) appears to be only so tall (he holds up his pointer finger).  I love seeing the city in miniature; it is my favorite swim, and we're out and back in less than 30 min."  The 30 minutes is important  because the water is cold (18 degrees C = 64 F), and before you arrive back, your hands feel stiff.  The sweet, hot tea is just right to begin the warming up process.  For some reason, these men accept me. They must wonder what I'm doing there, but they give me tea and brownies, and don't ask me anything. When I took their picture today, I could hear the unspoken questions: what's this woman doing here?

Well there is only one answer:  SWIMMING TO FEED MY SOUL!

Ali, second from left, with hot tea pot, brownies, among his friends; awesome swimmers all.

Ali speaks very little English.  The first time he met me was in the sea, struggling with waves to get out onto the rocks. This was last year.  I was swimming with Ingrid and Phil, friends from ACS.  From that day on, Ali, often near, would swim with us.  What was fun was that he would swim fast, and I would enjoy trying to keep up with him. Phil, Ingrid and I stopped swimming back in November as the storms came in and then the water temp cooled. It seemed appropriate to stop.  Well, not for these swimmers.  They swim all year round.

So I was on my way to school a few weeks ago and I heard, "Carolyn, Carolyn!"  Ali was running over!  "Do you want to swim?"  he asked.  Of course!  He invited me to join him and his friends.  And so for the past several Saturdays I have met up with Ali at the big antenna and defied my own shyness at being the only woman; climbed down the ladder from the Corniche, walked self-consciously over to the concrete slab, taken off my sweatpants and sweatshirt, and walked over to the water's edge.  I sit, with feet dangling, then up to hips, then up to waist while splashing upper arms, then in.  The entry is a screamer! 

I have loved every minute of swimming and being with these other swimmers. It is amazing. At any other time in my life I could not have been so bold. Thank God for Ali, giving me courage.  Is ANYONE luckier than I am? I am happy out there in that bracing water, and on the rocks sipping the sweet hot tea. In these moments my joy is complete.

Italy #2: Rome

Hate to cry when it's time to leave? 

Then stay away from Rome!

Trevi Fountain and my wish? Return trip!

Margaret and I; happy travelers!

I loved Rome.

Irony here were the warnings: You'll be lucky if you still have your purse 30 minutes after you get here... 

My friend lost her money belt in Venice.... 

My cousin's husband lost his wallet 15 minutes after he got off the train... 

and on and on the stories go.

When I realized I still had my purse and had been in Rome for over an hour, I gave a silent cheer!  

The truth is, if you are aware, and careful, there is nothing to fear.  

Rome is a treasure chest; surprises around every corner.  

I was disgusted as much as amazed with the coliseum, awed by the Vatican, humbled in the presence of Michelangelo, and thrilled with my visit to the Borghese Museum and Gallery.

Avoiding INERTIA!

After I accepted the new job, my resignation letter to Dr. Jo and South Whidbey practically wrote itself. I'd been agonizing over this decision these past months. I'd figured that one or two years overseas would be a long time, but it flashed by.  For me, going "home" means settling in somewhere, and that's scary too!  Going forward seems no more difficult now that I am here.

Once on a roll it is easier to keep rolling!  

Am I fearless? NO WAY!  I have many fears. But facing them is the thing. This is my challenge. There is so much to see and discover!  and I have so much to learn. I think of it as gathering stories for my 80th birthday party; an idea that came from Steven Covey.

Thank you Paula, for sending this my way!

Birthday in Jordan

First view of the "Rose City" of Petra

February 13, 2014                                                            
A good way to get older? 
                                                           
Go where everything is older 
than you are! 

So Margaret went with me on a weekend trip to Jordan.  We flew into Amman, then rented a car and drove to the ancient city of Petra (2400 years to my 61... it worked!).

There we met, Ahmed, history guide and Bedouin, who took us on our winding way through a tall narrow canyon, walls 100 meters high.  Such a beautiful walk, heading steadily downhill.  Suddenly, in front of us we saw a flash of pink, and then the sight of a rose pink building, opening up before us!  It was the treasury building of Petra, carved into a canyon wall running perpendicular to our own walkway. What an incredible approach to this place.  (Sequel to "Raiders of the Lost Ark" was filmed here!) Petra was built by the Nabateans in 400 BC. They became rich at the crossroads between east-west, north-south, gathering taxes from all the camel caravans that passed through their lands.  It was the Romans who undermined them in 106 AD, by cutting off their water supply. It seems obvious now, but the only reason the Nabateans could live in Petra is because they could pipe in water from nearby springs. Block the pipes and it didn't take long for surrender. However, the Romans were most hospitable: Nabateans could choose to stay and become good Romans, or leave.
For us, this day, it was the horse drawn carriages we had to watch out for; literally running visitors up and down through the narrow canyon.  Margaret made the mistake of telling a camel driver his camel was pretty.  From that moment on it was Margaret, Ahmed, me, a camel driver, two camels, a hopeful burro driver and his burro... walking through Petra.  Every time we stopped to take a picture, they were sure we would change our minds and decide to ride.  We managed to walk the entire way and back, much to their dismay, and much to our annoyance.

Carolyn and Margaret at the foot of the rose Treasury, Petra's icon

Rocky tombs and homes of Petra

From Petra, we drove to Wadi Rum, the desert, beloved of the Bedouin people.  We met up with our travel guide, Mzied, a dashing Bedouin man, who loaded us into his 4-wheel Toyota truck for a tour of the area, complete with overnight tent and sleeping bags, meals, and deliciously sweet hot tea. 

The land was stunning; colorful red sands, rocky outcrops, rocks dripping like melting candles, arches, and ancient Talmudic writings. We fell in love with the place.  It reminded me of other beautiful deserts I have known: Death Valley, and Joshua Tree National forest.  Wadi Rum is where Peter O'Toole and Omar Shariff were filmed in "Lawrence of Arabia", unforgettable for the 9-year-old that I was.  Dad and Mom took us to see the movie at the drive in, sure we would all fall asleep in the back seat.  But No! I was wide-eyed awake ALL 3 HOURS; completely captivated by the sand, sun, music, and Peter O'Toole.  This was my first look into the world of the sheikh!  I've been fascinated with flowing head scarves ever since.

We spent the night in Wadi Rum, in a small 2-person tent, that proved itself waterproof as the long overdue rain came down. The next morning we were awakened by a warm crackly fire in the main tent, including hot tea, and a delicious breakfast of pita and labneh (like a Greek yogurt), with honey and fruit, and cuddly Saalem.

Wadi Rum

Guide Mzied telling stories after dinner

Carolyn with Saalem, imagining life as a Bedouin woman...

Arches for climbing up!

Red sand dunes for running down!

Talmudic rock carvings from God Knows how long ago: camel caravan!

That morning, Mzied scooted us across the valley, 3 miles away, to see the early start of the Safari Race, 2014.  It turns out that Margaret's nephew was there! What was startling was to see their encampment in Wadi Rum! They had intended to run in the Sahara of Egypt, but with all the political turmoil, the venue had to be changed. To our delight, and Margaret's surprise, it was changed to Wadi Rum!  Here is a picture of Margaret and John the night before the race. He was about to run for 7 consecutive days, each the equivalent of a marathon, in which he would carry ALL his food and gear (even sleeping bag), except water. This ordeal takes place in a desert, once a year, and runners from the world over gather to give it a go. John ran last year in the Gobi Desert. This guy loves a challenge!

Margaret and her nephew John.
We met John last November, running in the Beirut marathon.

...and they're off!

...into the desert morning mist...

What a weekend!  It was the best.