some guy in lebanon

You are browsing the archives of 2009 May.

A triumphant return to Music Hall on Friday night (overcoming a little food poisoning) was met with standing ovations and amazing seats. Always a fun time, Music Hall is also a great opportunity to dress up (which doesn’t happen to often) – It also is a reminder that I don’t have a proper summer suit (hmmm… perhaps I smell a birthday present? Kidding! I’m sure I’ve burned up all my birthday/christmas presents with ‘will moves to lebanon’ seed money).

Anyways, we got some great pictures. Quick introductions – You may know Kaiulani Kimbrell, Nick’s sister – Amanda is Catherine’s friend from the States (blonde hair) and Catherine is Nick’s girlfriend (gold dress/brown hair). Also pictured are Caroline Anning and Angie Nassar.

Click Read More for all the pictures!

BO18 – for the un-initiated, it’s sort of the peak of Lebanon’s “stay out as late as possible while really not having a care in the world” culture. Designed like a coffin, it’s below ground, but with a roof that retracts up ‘on the fly’ so that the cramped and claustrophobic atmosphere suddenly transforms into an incredible outdoor nightclub. And we’re not talking about some little carbon-fiber roof – we’re talking about an enormous steel-girder thing…

Definitely a crazy night… Happy Birthday to Omar – I don’t really go out and hit the town very often but last night was definitely a good time.

…And then next weekend will be a return to the equally swanky Music Hall when Nick’s sister Kaiulani arives. Will be sure to take lots of pictures for the folks back home.

Another another note – I’ve resolved myself to start writing more often… even if it’s boring non-political posts about the occasional late-night crazyness…

My flat mate and I are sitting on the porch joking about how we’re sitting in some sort of wierd European spy movie scene – my computer is playing some French/Spanish jazz music, the neighbors are all out on their balcony’s, the sun is setting, and all around us are little pieces of Europe, but with a Lebanese twist. There’s the guy on the bike smoking a cigarette, the woman hanging her mother’s underwear on the line (I assume it’s her mother’s), the man in the undershirt on his own balcony checking out the girl hanging the underwear, then there are the palm trees, the crumbling concrete, the Mediteranian air and strong sun…

Spring in Beirut is dreamy, even when it includes 14-hour work days. It’s hot but not too hot, cool at night, and even the vast armies of cats seem to have put their late-night gang-wars aside to just lounge around lazily.

At a Cafe on the Corniche called Rawda, I recently sat with Naz (flatmate) and did absolutely nothing for about three hours, then held two business meetings in quick succession, without moving. Such is Beirut – vast periods of intense laziness, followed up by successive bursts of sometimes-highly-profitable activity. Nowhere is there an American rhythm of “constant-on” – instead, work habits here are more like a broken Lebanese air conditioner that clicks on furiously just as its getting too hot, but never works properly until then.

A few months back, I wrote a piece entitled “My dear Israel.” In it, I derided Israel for it’s inexplicably overpowering assault on Gaza – Look, every situation has two sides – Hamas took off the gloves, and it’s entirely up to both timeframe and opinion as to who shot first. The truth is, when it comes to Isarel/Palestinine, the first shots were fired by people most of whom have not lived to see their consequences.

Such as it is in Lebanon today, as well, although the wounds are certainly fresher in the Occupied Territories’ northern neighbor: Those who fired many of the first shots are no longer alive to see the positive, and negative, consequences that lead to the Lebanon of May 2009.

Such as it is in Lebanon today, as well, although the wounds are certainly fresher in the Occupied Territories’ northern neighbor: Those who fired many of the first shots are no longer alive to see the positive, and negative, consequences that lead to the Lebanon of May 2009.

I have lived here about seven months – I have seen what a quiet Beirut is, but I have yet to live through “accidents” or “unfortunate periods” or “trouble” or whatever those who have lived through it like to call mid-to-large-scale political or regional violence. But I know one thing – I am an outsider, at the fringes of what these days I can only tentatively call my neighborhood, my city, and my country. Because of course it will never really be “my neighborhood, my city, my country,” not just because I am not Lebanese, but also largely because there are so few in Lebanon who make that claim themselves – the Lebanon of their birthright is hardly the Lebanon it is today, because nobody deserves citizenship to a country in pieces. I think every Lebanese awaits the day when their nation and their passport don’t raise eyebrows or pulses.

It’s been six months – Six incredible months. In that time, I’ve visited a few places in Lebanon, but I’m looking forward to seeing much more of the country this spring and summer. I’ve also traveled to Jordan and to the Netherlands, have moved into a wonderful apartment in Hamra, resigned from the Daily Star, made a living as a consultant, and am looking at the next year as a mystery, but an opportunity as well. Three months ago I wrote a list of what I’d learned after 87 days – Well it’s been another three months, and it’s time to think a little about what I’ve learned in 180 days.