"Don't cry...

The downside of International teaching and international life?  Friends Move On, We move on.

We said many good-byes at the ACS end-of-year luncheon.  This is an annual event, complete with wine and beer liberally served in the Lower School gym by waiters bearing trays. Well, I needed it.

What caught me by surprise was the realization that 30 people were leaving. A few retiring, but most are heading out for new adventures, to new places in the world.  I was asked to "say a few words for Lucy," my colleague.  I didn't get the email until 2 hours before the lunch... and just figured I'd wing it. But with an hour to go, I knew that wasn't enough.  I wrote my "words," one per sign:  Energetic! - Leader - Friend - and British-American.
Arij, Susan and Sara helped me hold them up.
The Brit-American was last, and supposed to be the funny one...  because I explained how I'd spent a good deal of the year mulling over the question of which nationality was really Lucy. She has dual citizenship, but grew up in Colorado as a kid. She seems much more American than British to me... for example:
She clearly speaks with an east coast American accent = American, right?
She pronounces words like yogurt as /yah-gurt/ and vitamins as /veet-a-meens/ = British.  And she visits her grandparents in England... more British.  I was still rooting for American, but then a new element came along.
Lucy has played with the Lebanese women's football (soccer) team for two years in Beirut, and was their team captain this year. She is the only non-Lebanese player, and dearly loved by coach and teammates.  In fact, they begged her to marry a Lebanese friend so she could play in the Nationals... she declined.

My Lucy conclusion?  She is not only American and not only British (some, I admit), she is also Lebanese.

Last night I spoke with Ingrid about difficult good-byes. Her response: "Carolyn, we lose great people and close friends every year, but you will discover in the Fall, that new people come in, and they fill the empty places.  We welcome them in, we do it every year.  But you keep in touch with those who have moved away, and surprisingly, you see them again.  It is incredible.  Think of it this way; now you have friends all over the world."

Rola shared a quote on email this morning, and it brought tears again, but this time happier ones.

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." 
Dr. Seuss.
Looking forward to the HELLO'S back home; one week to go.

Beautiful Lebanon II

Deir El Qamar and the Chouf Cedar Reserve
Two places I'll take you when you come visit...
Mountain village Deir El Qamar used to be the the seat of government 400 years ago, before it was moved to Beirut.  This is where our school's outdoor classroom is located, where I took my class for an overnight camp out.  It is also the home of Beit Eddine, the President's summer palace which houses the Mosaic Museum.  We (Lucy, her sister Kate, and I) hired a driver (Bayan, the Debke dancer) who drove us up to the cedar reserve for a hike, about a 2 hour drive south and east of Beirut.

I've been to two sections of the Cedar Reserve, and each time I've been awed by the magnificent trees that are protected there.  Cedar trees were cut years ago and used by early Phoenicians for ship building.  Prized cedar wood was traded to Egypt in return for Aswan's pink granite. Columns of the pink granite were shipped and rolled to construction sites in Lebanon by the Romans.  The granite is still seen in the ruins of Baalbek and Tyre.

Here are some photos of the oldest cedar trees found up in the high mountains.

Lucy and I on a cedar branch big as a tree trunk!

Cedars are slow growing trees.

After a picnic lunch we drove back down to Beit Eddine to see the Mosaic Museum.  It was Kate who wanted to make the stop, and as it turned out, we all loved it.
Beit Eddine:  The President's summer place and home of the Mosaic Museum.

Mosaic Museum is under the cool arches below the palace.

Mosaics were originally used as floors!

I loved the bird and animal mosaics; so lively!

Beautiful Lebanon

After that horrific discussion about sewage and effluent, I decided it is time to show you another side of Lebanon.  Our first stop was the village Hasroun Qnat, the birthplace and Museum dedicated to the life work of Kahil Gibran ("The Prophet").  I was completely moved upon discovering Gibran, the painter, and rooms of paintings depicting human life with its joys and sorrows, from couples, to birth, to old age.  It wasn't what I expected to see or feel.  This is the mountain village as seen from the museum steps.

Hasroun Qnat; Mountain birthplace and Museum for Kahil Gibran

Next, we hiked into the beautiful Qadisha Valley. From the top, we single filed past ancient olive trees, and striped rocks down a steep trail  overlooking the green valley walls.

Qadisha Valley

Hiking down down down the wall of the valley.

Friends: Andrea, Phillippe, New Daddy Ryan, et moi

ruins of an ancient house or ???

Cliffs of Striped rocks

In May, waterfalls cascade down its steep sides and into a wildly racing stream.

Valley floor and its rushing water

Gorgeous Qadisha Valley

I received an unexpected marriage proposal from a Spanish speaking hermit who lives in an ancient sanctuary with its tiny church, high on the side of the valley wall, overlooking the valley.  He moved in 20 years ago and lives a simple life; too simple?

My reply, "I'm sorry, but I've already been there, done that!"

Sea Swim Anyone?

BEIRUT: Flush a toilet in Beirut and the waste water is piped out a kilometer into the Mediterranean and expelled into the sea. Flush the toilet just about anywhere else, however, and the waste is deposited just a few meters away, using the nation’s coastline as a giant toilet bowl.

Read more: http://www.dailystar.com.lb/News/Local-News/2013/Jun-10/219836-lebanons-beaches-swimming-with-waste.ashx#ixzz2W0aSQ8NP
(The Daily Star :: Lebanon News :: http://www.dailystar.com.lb) 

And that's the GOOD news.  Strangely, the rocks we jump from land us in the safest water in the area.  This article is disturbing, to say the least.  The following paragraph was equally troubling, but no surprise:

There are almost no water treatment plants in operation anywhere along the coast. Wastewater from all the major coastal cities is exhausted straight into the sea. Even water from the hinterland goes into the waterways untreated and eventually pollutes the coast.

Read more: http://www.dailystar.com.lb/News/Local-News/2013/Jun-10/219836-lebanons-beaches-swimming-with-waste.ashx#ixzz2W0b3ESHw
(The Daily Star :: Lebanon News :: http://www.dailystar.com.lb) 

Fecal matter is over the top in most swimming areas, except, ironically, in the waters off Beirut, where we swim.  We have a sewage pipe that carries the stuff 1 kilometer out into the Mediterranean before it dumps, leaving the coast area here relatively "clean".

Now for the nitty gritty...
I learned quickly after I arrived that NO PAPER should go down a drain, as in toilet paper.  Waste paper containers are found in all bathrooms to collect used toilet paper. And to think that every flush ends up where the sea turtles roam?  Rather grotesque.  The good news is it dissipates out in the sea, leaving the beaches safer to swim in around here.    

Like so much else in Lebanon, looks are deceptive.  
We have police with their machine guns on corners and loaded in trucks, making the rounds.  But there is very little regulation, not only of water run off / sewage, but of driving or parking.  People double park, triple park on occasion, park on sidewalks, and drive any speed they reach on straight aways. A red signal light means watch out; traffic does not necessarily stop here for red lights.  Pedestrian beware.  Not that drivers are aiming for you, just that a red light means they'll go if there's no one coming from the other direction. 

There are many quirky things that you get used to in Lebanon... so we dance on the buses while drinking, ride in taxis without working seat belts, and marvel at the norm:: cyclists and motorcycle drivers without helmets.

I saw this sight on the highway coming back to Beirut from Tyre.  What do you think?

Five men hanging on to the roof mounts of a smallish sedan.  They were having a great time up there standing up, dancing, and shouting at other drivers....  I couldn't believe it!  
    It's the blessed weekend, 3 school days to go, and I'm meeting Ingrid for an early morning swim!
                                        Nice to know we live in a "clean water area". 

End in Sight!

As I sat at the sidewalk cafe with friend Lucy this evening, found myself gazing out onto Bliss St, wondering how my view of home and my view of Beirut and the world might have changed.  What will stand out for me back on Whidbey Island?  Have I suppressed thoughts / feelings in order to keep facing forward this year?  What will I miss most about Beirut?  What will I be happy to leave behind?  And my grandest question: Where and What is Home?

Deir El Qamar: hike with class under the majestic umbrella pine trees!

First, what will I miss?
Let's go to Massaya Vineyard on Saturday.  I took the spring bus with school friends to the Bekaa Valley and a beautiful repeat of the outdoor meal we enjoyed last fall.  Wine was flowing, food abundant, and the woman at the Sage oven, like an upsidedown wok, was putting out the zaatar and cheese bread pitas as fast as we could eat them.  The trip home on the bus was the same hilarity as Fall; first the wine bottles were opened and passed around.  Bus driver turned up the Dabke music, and the aisle filled with ex-pat dancers; all the way over the mountain and into Beirut.  Open wine bottles, dancing in the aisles, loud music and singing on a bus?  That's Lebanon.

What else?
I walked to my first sandy beach on Sunday to meet up with French swimming buddies. Suyin brought coffee thermos and demi tasse cups for a before swim sip.  There were waves; an unusual sight.  I couldn't wait to get into the water, and right away, made my move to get behind the breakers.  Much as I tried to get Frederique to join me, she couldn't; said later she got too tired.  But there I was, 14 year old Carolyn again, at Huntington Beach, diving under / floating over the waves.  It was exhilarating; the most fun I've had in the waters of Lebanon.  Yes, I was the only woman among men.  Was it my imagination, or were they copying me?  In no time there were 5 or 6 of us floating feet first over the big hills of water, and diving head first under the breakers.  I loved every minute of it. The Mediterranean Sea? The Lebanon I love.

What will I be happy to leave behind?
Minutes after I got home and hung up the wet stuff, Lucy called to tell me that 2 rockets had exploded 7 kilometers away in southern Beirut, in retaliation for the stand Hezbollah has taken in defense of Al-Assad and the Syrian government forces.  Although no one was killed in the attack, it stirred up a pot that seems on the verge of boiling.  What President Suleiman doesn't want is for various factions to take sides in the Syrian conflict, but that's what is happening.  In Tripoli up north, people are asking for relief from nightly shelling in their neighborhoods. People are divided. Whether or not they choose to act on it?  Only time will tell. No one knows the price of war better than the Lebanese.  So far, so good!

On Monday, following day, I suggested we get the permission slips home for next week's field trip. Colleagues Lucy and Arij disagreed.  "It's better to give a few days rest between the weekend attack and our trip announcement, allow time for things to cool off."  I understood their point.  In the fall with the bombing assassination, all approved field trips were cancelled until the "coast was clear."  Anxious parents wouldn't allow their children to go anywhere besides home and school. These things take TIME to sort out.  This is Lebanon too.

So what will stand out for me once I'm back in the states?  I'm guessing that the feeling of peace and safety won't be something I can take for granted. That and fresh air and clean sparkling water will be delightful. Seeing friends and family will mean so much.

And what will I miss about Beirut besides hummus, the Sea, and my new friends here?  Sounds like the subject of another blog!

Bach in Beirut!

This is the Assembly Hall where we sing tonight.
The light is the rosetta leaded glass window reflecting on the  pipe organ;
an amazing sight!  

The walls of Assembly Hall on AUB campus have been bursting with music these past two weeks!  AUB choir with orchestra and soloists are about to perform JSBach's St. John's Passion, less than 4 hours to go; tonight and tomorrow nights.  After our performance tonight, the President of AUB, Peter, and his wife Kathy (from Vashon Island) have invited the entire ensemble to their home for beer and sandwiches. They happen to be choir members too, and sing tenor side by side!

What a great experience this has been!  We began preparing  in September, and are now ready to perform Bach for 2 and a half hours straight. When we met the orchestra 2 nights ago, I felt sheer joy: 2 flutes, viola de gamba, harpsichord, 2 oboes, bassoon, 2 cellos, bass viol, 9 violins, and 3 violas. One tenor soloist, Randall, just arrived from NY and has a wonderful voice, so expressive. Bass Ashraf is here from Boulder, Colorado, and has the power of Pilate!  Alto and Soprano are equally incredible. Alto Megan has been invited to sing with NY Met.  These soloists are beautiful, YOUNG, and fit. It astounds me to see this new generation of opera singers.  I was relieved to see lyrics being projected on the walls, translating the German to English and Arabic for the audience.  And the music?  It's magnificent.  We know our parts, and are ready to bring it to life.  I wish you could be here.  I'm in musical nirvana.

Yalla!  Let's go! on with the show!

Life in Beirut is fascinating for me.  I love this area, Hamra, where I live; close to everything I need.  The traffic noise on the one way street below can become chaotic; honking, loud music or voices, but overall, I love it.  I love hearing different languages, and enjoy using my simple Arabic vocabulary.  "La Shokran" (No thanks!) to the taxis that offer me a ride. "Afwan" (Excuse me!) to the man standing in the doorway I need to enter. "Baddii awaii" (I want coffee) to the shopkeeper, who grinds up the blend I ask for. The hard part is passing sidewalk women, babies on their laps, begging for hand outs.  Young 4 to 8 year old children squat on the sidewalk, springing to their feet and asking for a hand out as I walk past.  These are hard things to see.  Sometimes I give. I've also learned how to say No: avoid eye contact and walk by briskly.  I hear their words, begging me to have pity, to stop, to give.  I passed 4 such people on my way to the bank today. I had no cash, so it wasn't a choice, a justification?  It gets easier to ignore... but what does that really mean?

Ran my usual errands this morning; Hummos man for my fresh hummos addiction.  There is nothing like it, anywhere.  He serves up a half kilo carton and adds a tray of veggies (fresh tomato, olives, pickle, onion, radish, and fresh mint sprigs) along with a platter sized pita and spoon, in case you can't wait to get home; All for $3.

The green grocer is next to the hummos guy, where I bought avocados, tomatoes, bananas, salad greens, kiwis and oranges, all for $8. EVERYTHING is grown locally, and oh so good.

Just a short way down the road is the Bourgeois Grocer where the Madame sells homemade trays of food you can reheat at home.  I lived on her food the first 3 months I was here.  Still enjoy going in on Saturday where the Monsieur pulls out the big while plastic chair and hands me a pastry and demi tasse of his ground coffee.  First we sit and visit.  Then it's time to step over to the case to select the week's fare.  No matter what you choose, Madame always throws in an extra something; dessert, salad, or side dish.  They are adorable, and the high point of my shopping Saturday.

Darling owners of the Bourgeois Grocery; fresh food take out for reheat at home

Making Zatar bread; delicious!

My least favorite trip was to the bank... another snafu.  It was a standing joke for us (newbie teachers Lucy, Charlene and me) that we made weekly Saturday walks to the bank for the first two to three months after our arrival here.  It was all about...setting up accounts, payroll deposit, internet bill payments, getting cash, sending cash, unraveling ATM and credit card problems... You just can't believe all the little mishaps that cropped up those first months. The first thing about banking here, it's not computerized to the extent we are accustomed to in the States.  When you open a credit card account, you sign, sign, sign.  Then you wait.  You're told to come back the next week, and when you do, they're not ready.  So you set up a regular bank trip, and find out that another piece of information is missing.  Get that done, return the next Saturday to see what's happened since the week before.  It was an exciting day when we got our ATM cards, end of September.  A very exciting day when the credit cards were issued in mid- November.

My bank trip today was about recovering an ATM card.  I was out of lira last Sunday and went to the ATM. My card went in, everything seemed usual, until my card wouldn't come out again, nor did the requested cash. Reason given?  Address update needed. WHAT?  Luckily I had a cupboard full of food and a few $20 dollar bills in my travel folder. You want to be ready for surprises like this, and I got through the week just fine.  Today I found out the machine ate my card because it had "been in the ATM machine too long"... HUH??  Well, I have my card and lira now, and can once again patronize the hummos and green grocer stands; back to fresh foods!

So yes, there are inconveniences.  There are surprises. The infrastructure we take for granted at home isn't the same here.  You learn right away NOT to make ATM withdrawals during the last days of any month. Cash machines run out of cash and show a debit from your account, even though you didn't get any cash.  That's another trip to the bank! You have internet and electricity, but outages, though common and usually brief, are enough to end your Skype call. There is also the 3 hour rotating outage every day, which is softened by the building generator that automatically kicks in, but also ends your Skype call.  These problems are just part of everyday life, and as you live here, you adjust and don't even blink.  When the power would go off in my classroom back on Whidbey Island, all the kids would jump off their chairs with anticipation!  Here, the power goes out and there isn't a reaction; classroom life just goes on.  And trash? That could have a chapter all to itself...

As I said earlier, life here is different, but fascinating. I wouldn't trade where I'm living now for anything else. Why?  Life in Beirut is a sensual feast that knocks me over from time to time.  It's the intrigue that captivates and won't let go.

Beirut's downtown Blue Mosque, where you are welcome to visit.