some guy in lebanon

My silence on this blog is deafening… that has been with a certain intent. I don’t see any reason to put TWI or myself at risk by blogging extensively about my work or travels, but I figured a brief update wouldn’t hurt.

As some of you might know, I am now living in Frankfurt, Germany, where I am managing a project to deploy ERP software across our supply chain.

As I sit here today writing this, I am in a little town in Switzerland called Zug, which is near Zurich, where our corporate headquarters is located. Our office overlooks Lake Zurich and the train station, and the office, the town, and the surrounding area is a vision of Swiss efficiency (I only reset my watch, and assume that it is correct, when I come to Switzerland).

I drove here from Frankfurt yesterday – a fun trip south which is mostly across the German autobahn… that provides the gut-crunching possibility of “speed-limit-less” travel.

Today I sign off officially from ‘Some Guy in Lebanon,’ as I start work with TWI as IT Project Manager.

I will be traveling extensively across Europe, Asia, and the Middle East for the next year – if you live in Frankfurt, Zurich, Istanbul, Dubai, Kuwait, or Kyrgyzstan, I would love to hear from you, as I will bouncing around that part of the world extensively. For those of you who are wondering, yes, the plan is to be back in Beirut by the fall.

The last six months have been a wild ride – Last time I posted it was October 6th and I think I was in either Jordan or Charlotte. It was with some consideration that I decided to discontinue this blog, but it was clear that blogging shouldn’t be a priority now that I have to direct all my attention to a new and difficult job. I will be sure to keep personal notes, however, and I am more than willing to share where I am and how things are going, if you’re interested.

I’ve thought about what I’d say in this post for a long time. In so many ways, it’s probably the most important thing I’ll write on this foolish little blog, but it will also likely be the least conclusive.

I’ll recap, quickly, what’s happened over the past month and a half. In late August, I approached the NYC Lebanese Consulate, requesting a proper visa to go back to Beirut on, so that I could arrange for work papers and legalize my status in Beirut. They stamped my passport and sent it back to me.

Upon arrival at the airport in Beirut, I was barred from entering the country, and I went to Jordan. A wide range of people did their very best for me, but at the end of the day, it was to no avail.

I have booked my flight back to America, and will spend the next three months or so in Charlotte, NC, working for PayStream Advisors on an integrated communications project – I am blessed to have the opportunity to finish what I started with PayStream, and it is truly a lucky stroke to have things line up time-wise.

Well well well – It has been an interesting week. For those of you who don’t know, despite having a visa from the Lebanese Consulate in New York, I was refused entry into Lebanon last week, and sent to Amman, Jordan, ostensibly to “think about what I’ve done.” Any city would feel like purgatory under this arrangement, it’s true, but arriving in Amman in the middle of Ramadan, this place feels acutely like the doldrums. Until today, as it is the beginning of Eid and things have returned to normal, there has literally been nothing to do but sleep and eat.

At least I can know tell a heck of a story!

A quick remark – I would like to take this moment to bring to light the pathetic response of the American Embassy in Beirut when I called them to let them know what was going on. Their response, “We can do nothing because Lebanon is a sovereign nation and it’s their call,” was as laughable as it was infuriating.

What a summer. What an extraordinary, incredible, lovely, indescribable summer. Hopefully not too-indescribable, or it would be hard to articulate it in this post…! And now it’s over, and tomorrow I get on a plane and fly back to Beirut. As my business partner Oni Kabir put it to me this evening, “It’s amazing how full circle things feel.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Let’s take a moment to reflect on the past year – 365 days ago I was working at the Portland Lobster Company and gearing up to fly to Lebanon, with literally zero plan besides to intern at the Daily Star. I was also painting houses. Hey, don’t knock it – It paid the bills. But I was staring out into a future that I’d no idea how to envision – In 45 days I’d be getting on a plane for Beirut, praying that Nick would, in fact, be at the terminal to receive me (he was).

9 months later I returned to the United States for vacation, initially planning on being here for a 30 days. However, as my grandmother had major surgery over the winter and wouldn’t be in Maine until late August, it was important (and fantastic) to stay for another three weeks to see her. And so my return date morphed to September 11th (I didn’t choose the date).

You were once my hostess. Now you are my home, my friend and my sister. I say these things with the utmost seriousness, and a firm understanding of the context of each statement. Homes, friends and sisters do not enter my life lightly or without struggle.

Though you offered me no promises, this is my promise to you: No matter where I go in life, who I meet, what I see, I will sing your praises to whoever will listen, to the point of outright obnoxiousness.

Before I go to America for vacation on Wednesday, let me offer the following comment I made on November 4th, 2008:

“My new boss Marc remarked to me today, with excitement, trepidation, and the cynicism of a westerner towards the United States of this past decade, of the irony of my arrival the day before the most important American election of the modern era, and that I would begin to work on the day after. He dared not even suggest that Obama could pull it off.”

I’m tan – “How did you get so tan, Will?” You might ask – Well, dear reader, this is for three reasons:

1. I live at the eastern end of the Mediteranian. One can get a tan just by walking around
2. I spent Saturday at “Lazy B,” a wonderful little cabana-style resort south of Beirut.
3. I spent most of Sunday sitting in no-man’s-land at the Syrian border in the sun. For five hours. Just to be in Syria for forty five minutes.

I want to remark on this last point – “Why did you go to Syria, Will?” Well, dear reader, it’s because my visa was going to expire and they changed the rules in Lebanon requiring an exit stamp to leave at the airport if you’re in your third month of a tourist visa. But I couldn’t get an exit stamp because my visa was going to expire in two days, so they told me ‘just go to Syria – you don’t need an exit stamp.’ Of course, going to Syria means waltzing into one of the most skeptical-of-Americans nation in the world – they purposefully make you wait forever if you’re American to dissuade you from coming back – or something, I’m not really quite sure (they fax the information to Damascus – who knows how long it sits next to a cup of coffee there). Luckily, they let me in after I got a mean tan – I had to be out of the country for “a few mintues” according to Lebanese authorities in order to renew my visa.

Unfortunately, I have renewed my tourist visa too many times, so they confiscated my passport on the way back into Lebanon, and I spent this morning at General Security sorting things out.

Almost 8 months in Beirut now – Eight long months. As I sit back and think – go over my current situation, I can’t help but notice the totality, and the still insignificance, of what I’ve accomplished so far… and all the people who have trusted me, who have had faith in me, and who have stood by me.

I will never be able to repay the debt I owe to those who’ve made this possible – even here, I see that truly it takes a village to raise Will Donovan. Perhaps more here than anywhere.

Who has arrived in Lebanon without family, with limited finances, with no contacts, and with a degree in Religion, and built a business from nothing? To those of you who have done so, you know how hard it is. To those who have not, perhaps you can imagine.

To those who have treated me like a brother, God Bless you. You will always have a place in my heart. I could not have done this without you.

To those in particular who have opened your homes and your hearts to me, thank you. There are no words to express my gratitude.

The election went over well… all things considered – I will admit I know very little about it. However, I wanted to share an e-mail I sent to NY Times contributor Thomas Friedman after he published this story: Ballots over Bullets in which he roundly declared Lebanon’s elections clean, fair, honest, and part of a “wind of change” in the region.

I wrote him (he has yet to reply) the following: (Solidaire is Downtown Beirut and “Bukhra, InshaAllah” means “Tomorrow it will happen, God Willing” and it is said when it will most certainly not happen tomorrow)

Mr. Friedman – Your piece on the Lebanese elections was certainly sweet, and a wonderful line to toe, but I’m sure you’re aware that in Lebanon, there’s no such thing as “the real deal.” Don’t make me quote your own book to you…. You failed to mention, for example, vote buying at $2000 a head, or the remarkable speed that Hezbollah accepted the results of their extremely expensive loss (10 minutes flat – I timed it). You know as well as anyone that a preponderance of evidence in Lebanon, especially when it is made up largely of good-will and cheer, upon the shallowest of inspection will immediately reveal foul play.

Click “Read More” to read the rest of my e-mail and to see pictures from Sky Bar

Not much new to report – planning on bunking down tomorrow for the elections – have been to the store to pick up the staples: beer, chips, snacks, diet Pepsi, cheese and crackers. Hopefully it will be a high-uneventful day.

I wanted to share these: The first is from the nightclub White, the second from Chilli’s Restaurant in Achrafiyeh, and the third are from the Sea Club Sporting (they call it a beach club but there’s no beach so I refuse to honor that title, even though it’s an awesome place.

First, White – didn’t expect to be back so soon but I had a great night out there and managed to get some reasonable pictures with the phone.

Next, a frightening and bizzarre experience at Chilli’s Restaurant in Achrafiyeh, which might as well have been somewhere in the Mid West or Boston or something. A truly strange experience to walk out of Beirut and into Chilli’s!

Finally, the wonderful club Sporting – I took a 360-Degree set of shots from where we (Me, Catherine and Nick) were sitting – you can see Rouche, the Sea, South Beirut, and the Ferris Wheel at the Amusement Park.

I also had lunch at the restaurant at the Club, which sits above the main pool areas – we were sitting to the far right.

Click “Read More” to see all the pictures.

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.

My God, it’s been ages, hasn’t it? I am so sorry for not keeping up with my blog, but I’ve been SO busy over the past two months. So many people who are reading this are not at all uptodate on what’s been going with me, and I don’t know where to start, but I’ll try to just give a brief overview.

My God, it’s been ages, hasn’t it? I am so sorry for not keeping up with my blog, but I’ve been SO busy over the past two months. So many people who are reading this are not at all uptodate on what’s been going with me, and I don’t know where to start, but I’ll try to just give a brief overview.

In the past two months I’ve been so blessed to have my name and expertise grown noticed by many people here in Lebanon. In particular, through some business associates, I now have a budding career in strategic communications consulting in Lebanon, and I find myself one of only a few people who are offering those types of services here. What does that mean? In Lebanon, unlike say, in America, there are very few people who help companies…

THE HAGUE, Netherlands: The conference center at The Hague is buzzing with activity as six students from American University of Beirut (AUB) discussed with The Daily Star their future plans after they receive their Bachelor’s Degrees. They are the delegation representing AUB at this year’s World Model UN Conference, hosted in the shadow of the International Criminal Court.

It is an interesting question to pose to these ambitious AUB students who had traveled all the way to The Hague to represent their school, their country and their culture. The resounding answer from all six was largely to be expected:

“Graduate school in Europe.” “Graduate school in America.” After that? “Work in the Gulf…” “Europe…” “America…”

While each member of the AUB delegation confronted stereotypes, bureaucracy, and chilly North Sea weather in The Hague this past week, all reported the conference a “huge success.”

The six-person AUB delegation, “representing” the role of the GCC state Qatar, sat with The Daily Star Friday afternoon to discuss their experience at Dutch-organized event, featuring over 2,400 students representing 275 universities and 53 countries.

From Forbes Magazine:

BEIRUT–You could argue that, in a contest to choose the most civilized citizens of the world, it would be a travesty not to choose Beirutis. Multi-domiciled (New York, London, Paris, Beirut), automatically fluent in three languages (English, Arabic, French) and the literature thereof, exquisitely turned out, hospitable and generous by instinct, they conduct their lives in a physical setting so glamorous it rivals Istanbul. They should be U.N.-protected as international cultural treasures.

Conversing with them is a little like appearing in front of an Olympic committee that adjudicates finesse in everything from fine dining to dirty jokes. The financial and entertainment geniuses of the region, they’re the last of the great historic Levantine communities, the kind Lawrence Durrell so loved. They speak a natural Esperanto, “Shu? Alors, what’s it called, habibi, the tres gentil guy who owns Chanel here, my cousin’s husband … ”

This has been my first visit to Beirut as a grown-up, indeed since the civil wars began in the mid-1970s. One week’s past and already I’ve found myself trying to rejig my life so I can return incessantly again and again as the waves do below the Corniche, and as Beirutis never fail to do after each war.

To all who supported me or gave me words of encouragement during the controversy of the past two weeks, you have my gratitude and respect.

You will by now have seen the statement by Director of National Intelligence Dennis Blair reporting that I have withdrawn my previous acceptance of his invitation to chair the National Intelligence Council.

I have concluded that the barrage of libelous distortions of my record would not cease upon my entry into office. The effort to smear me and to destroy my credibility would instead continue. I do not believe the National Intelligence Council could function effectively while its chair was under constant attack by unscrupulous people with a passionate attachment to the views of a political faction in a foreign country. I agreed to chair the NIC to strengthen it and protect it against politicization, not to introduce it to efforts by a special interest group to assert control over it through a protracted political campaign.

Jill Bolte Taylor: “A Stroke of Insight” – The most incredible speech I’ve ever heard. If you can’t see the video above, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UyyjU8fzEYU