"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:
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.
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 |
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!
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!
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