3-2-1, Clear!

One year ago I lived in Lebanon.  Seven months ago I stopped blogging because transitioning and moving is a bunch of blah blah blah...  No one really wants to read about that.

Speaking of nobody, one day not long after I got back I was hanging out with a friend who said, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"  We laughed and he said, "All the kids in my class can recite the whole thing."  Then:

Me: "Yeah...  Wait, they can say the whole phrase?  Is that what you're talking about?"
Him:  "Well yeah, they can say all of the lines."
Me:  "Um, what do you mean?"
Him:  "The whole interview."
Me:  "That's from an interview!?"
Him:  "Yeah. Haven't you seen it?  Where did you think that line came from?"
Me:  "I don't know.  I was in Lebanon and it just start popping up on Facebook and Pinterest...  I didn't realize it was, like, a thing!"

Then I visited YouTube and remedied my ignorance.  There have been other moments like that though, including the time I was at a family reunion and discovered one of my cousins died in a car accident while I was overseas.  Oh my.

But now that I'm (hopefully) crawling out of what can only be described as the black hole of re-entry, I've decided it's time to get back on the blogging band-wagon.  Brace yourselves!

T-minus 9 days...

T-minus 9 days until I step onto one plane in Lebanon and 27 hours later step off another in the US.  I've started doing a myriad of 'last' things:  final lunches with friends, final purchases or payments for utilities and other goods, final drop of ranch dressing squeezed out of the last bottle I'm willing to buy before I move home...

I've just started to let it sink in that I'll really be heading home soon.  I very much like to be where I am, and not think of other places.  Today I told myself, "In a week and 2 days, you WILL be back in South Carolina.  Start getting your brain there."

I've started to take note of things I will miss about Lebanon, and in the past few days allowed myself to look forward to the things I will get to enjoy in my home country.

A few of the little things that have come to mind as I've been traipsing across the city:

From Lebanon...

Things I'll miss about Leb (other than the wonderful people, akeed):

• Every food establishment delivers
• Granite counter tops as a default
• Nice place mats and place settings in all restaurants
• Getting to speak in 1-3 languages at any time.  3anjad?  Akeed.
• Getting to walk so much!  I've really started to love walking every where I go.  It just feels nice.
• How ridiculously accommodating pharmacies are.  You just go in, describe your symptoms, they ask you a few questions, and give you what you need.  They'll even say, "Oh, you only need 10 of these so I'll just give you one sheet out of this box."  Merci ktiir!
• Being able to cross the street whenever and however I like.  Just walk out in front of the cars; they'll stop.  (Incidentally, if I die within 3 months of returning to America, there's probably a 85% chance that I will have been hit by a car while crossing the street, Lebanese-style.)
• Cooking on a gas stove...  It just heats so quickly.

to South Carolina

Some things to look forward to in my return the the states:

• Not cooking on a gas stove...  It's hard not to burn things.
• Not fighting off carsickness every time I'm in a car
• Not having perpetually crispy clothes from line-drying all of the time
• A phone that just keeps the capacity to work with little-to-no effort from me... No more checking my credit and buying little cards and typing in little numbers all the time
• NOT getting shocked my my refrigerator/washer/computer all the time.  Ugh!
• That one time of year when the electricity goes out and it's novel...  "Ooo!  No electricity!  Crazy!?  Quick, light some candles and we'll play cards and talk and have fun."
• Walking (or driving) the streets without incessantly being offered a taxi
• Shopping carts that have wheels on the back that only go forward and backward.  Carts here have casters on all 4 wheels and roll in all directions at anytime.  It's disastrous, and annoying.  

Of course, these are mostly the little things in life.  If we wanted to talk about big things, like friends, family, hospitality, and affection, that's a whole other post with a whole other tone...  I'll probably get around to writing that soon.

The count down continues...

An investment

Earlier this week I made an investment in my future children's literacy.  There are some children's books about Lebanon that I really like.  I spent the first part of the year moping around wishing I had kids so I could get them the books.   Then one day I asked myself why can't I buy them for my future kids?  Because I don't have any.  But I might.  But I don't yet and might not.  One day I decided to go for it and get the books anyway.  I'm sure I have many friends whose children will love the books if I never have any future children.  Of course, then I had the chilling thought that my future children might not want to read about Lebanon.  How weird would they be!?

The books are from a series called Lebanese Heritage Books by Youmna Medlej and Joumana Medlej.  They are printed separately in English, French, and Arabic, and each tells the story and history of a particular piece of Lebanese culture or geography.  I stumbled across one a few years ago while visiting Jeita Grotto, and I fell in love with it.  Imagine my delight when I learned there were 12 more of those books about many of Lebanon's other treasures.

For now I've just bought 9 of them.  I figured I read through those and then gauge if I want the others or if I will have room to get them home in my luggage!  If you are interested in getting them for your kiddos and don't live by a Lebanese bookstore for some odd reason, you can order a PDF copy as well.  The titles I bought are pictured here.  You can guess what I'll be reading for the next little bit...

One thing I miss about America...

My car.  As I was crossing the city in a taxi yesterday with my head hanging out of the window (much like a dog),  I thought, "I miss my car."

Growing up in small-town WV, I did my fair share of riding in the back seat on curvy roads.  I got sick on every one of them.  I don't get sick on roller coasters, or tea cups that spin, or on boats during a storm, or planes, or when I turn in circles or someone spins me in a chair.  But put me in a moving car, and things go downhill.  

When I was a little girl, my grandfather used to try to remedy my ailment by getting me to drink Coke from a glass bottle.  I hated the taste of Coke.  No matter how much I insisted that it only made me feel worse, he would still pour it down my throat at every chance.  Eventually I figured out that chewing gum helped some, and that got me through a little better.  Used to be, I would be fine once I was out of the car and my feet were on the ground.   But this year, even that has changed...

I came woefully under-prepared for the amount of motion sickness I would deal with regularly here in Lebanon.  I've already had people mail me more Dramamine, twice.  

I have my theories as to why my carsickness has been worse:  maybe because I live in a big city so I'm in perpetual traffic.  Maybe because the Lebanese weave when they drive like their lives depend on it (and they actually probably do a little...).  Perhaps it's because I'm getting older, or because I live in another culture with new food and germs and so my stomach is already stressed most of the time.  I think it could be a lot of those things, but as I was riding through the city yesterday trying to gulp in fresh air, I thought, "I think it's also because at home I usually drive, and here I never do."  I miss my car.  I really, really miss driving, for really no other reason than it means I won't have to look at the car I'm about to get in and think "I'm about to fight off being sick."

Over the years I've tried many "remedies:" gums, bracelets  little magnet thingies...  Dramamine is actually my best bet, but it knocks me out.  I used to be able to take Less-Drowsy Dramamine if I needed to travel during the day, but lately it's also knocked me out.  Bah humbug.

So, although I will be very sad when I leave Lebanon for home, I think I'll breathe a sigh of relief when I can walk out to my own car, get in the driver's side, and go wherever I want and not have to worry about getting sick.  

This was just one of those difficult overseas adjustments that I didn't see coming...

[Carsick in Lebanese Arabic is بوخ., bdukh.]

10 Ways You Know You're Becoming Lebanese

1.  You drink soda out of a can with a straw.
2.  You ate lunch at 3 and dinner at 11.
3.  You say things like "April one" and "June fifteen."  You don't realize that you're not using ordinal numbers until someone points it out.
4.  You start asking people how they found something, and you don't mean how they physically found it.  I.e.   "How did you find the film/restaurtant/waterfall/Lebanon?"
5.  The answers for  "How did you find your meal?" (see #4) are "very nice" or "not very nice" and the answers for "How did you find the movie?" are "It was good/not good/beautiful."
6.  You say you'll 'pass by' later, and you really mean that you'll stop in later.
7.  Heeeeeeeeyyyy!!!   U staaaart using all of the emoticons u caaaaan muster!!!
8.  You "missed call" someone, which means that you call and let it ring once and then hang up.  This could mean a variety of things depending on the situation...
9.  You now find French, along with the more obvious Arabic, popping up in your daily speech.  "Merci."  "Bonjour!"
10.  You demonstrate the true meaning of hospitality every time you invite someone in to your beautiful homes.  Thanks for all you've done to welcome me friends!

Day 23: The View

So, I'm breaking from the photo-a-day mold, but I just have so much to tell you about.  I'm going to give you a bird's eye view of my Thanksgiving Extravaganza.  Two full days of Thanksgiving!  Here we go...

Thursday, November 22nd:

10:00 am:  Wake up.  Slept in.  Win!
10:30am:  Nicole, Hudson and Elam come by, and we head to Krispy Kreme.

Day 10: Emotion

Last night and this morning I made some crafts for my wall.  They are a little nod to each city I've lived in.  Today's photo-a-day topic is "emotion," and these represent a certain odd combination of emotions I've been experiencing lately.

Sometimes when I'm traipsing around Beirut, I stop and realize I'm not in American anymore.  Odd as it sounds, some days I forget I'm in Lebanon.  Before you worry that I'm careless and hopelessly unaware, I don't mean that I literally think I'm in America.  I just forget I'm not in my own country, not "home."  I've adjusted, and Lebanon has become my new normal.

I felt it coming on about 2 weeks in.  One night I was brushing my teeth and realized that I was in a 'eap of trouble:  I was starting to love it here.  I have this obnoxious tendency to love everywhere I am.  So, every time I go somewhere new I add another place to the ill-fated list of places and people loved and left behind.  People are a little easier than places.  With Skype and Facebook and Whatsapp, I'm still very socially(ish) connected.

All the more reason to love being in Lebanon, right?  I literally feel like I'm starting to lose my English, and very poorly-understood Arabic words are flooding my head.   I can now tell you about classic Arab instruments and songs, perform a stage-version of the debke (the Lebanese national dance), and even cook a few traditional Lebanese foods.  I can order a taxi, arrange a trip, brief you on Lebanese politics, and refill the propane tank for our stove.  I have favorite places now, and not just restaurants.  Even more significantly,  I'm starting to recognize people while I'm out and about.  "Oh look, there's so and so.  Let's go say hi."  Aye, aye, aye.  When I leave here, I'll miss it all.   And I'll know what that feels like, because I already feel that way about several places.  

I miss Columbia, where I lived with one of my best friends in a quirky, adventurous, and craft-filled house.  I was 1 minute from my church, 2 minutes from my bank, 3 minutes from my grocery store, 4 minutes from Moe's, 5 minutes from my gym, 10 minutes from Chick-fila and Target, l5 minutes from my best friend and about a dozen more amigas, and 0 minutes from my dog.  Even if I move back to Columbia in July, I know I'll never get that life back.  The people may still be there (also the dog.), so the most valuable parts don't fade away, but it was a sweet time, and I was content.  It was bittersweet to go.

Heraclitus said, "You cannot step into the same river twice" (or some version of that), just as I can't go back to being a kid on the family farm in WV.  I can't stop by my grandmas whenever I like.  Now I have to pick up the phone and call.  How are we supposed to play Rummy that way!?  My mom, aunt, and cousins don't all live next door to each other.  On an average day, I can't look out my window and see a 4-wheeler go by with about 5 of my 2nd cousins hanging off of it.  I can't go for a run and smell the crisp farm air with cattle lowing in the background, and then go and ruin the whole workout by pounding down an entire order of douby douby bread from Angelo's.  I'm mean here in Beirut I have to do that with crepes...

You see what I mean?  I love where I was.  I love where I am now, and most of the places in between.  With each season there comes the wonder of  the new, and the wistfulness of the old.  These simple 12x12 canvases are nostalgic, but also telling; a little bit of my heart is in each of these places.

I'm sure the point of a photo-a-day topic about emotion is to show a photo that captures the emotion, and here I've done gone and done it with a few hundred words.  I'll try to do better tomorrow, when I aim to have an impressive "Something Close-Up" photo that both captures the experience of me running a 10k in the Beirut and celebrates my 100th blog post.  Pins and needles, I know.

Day 3: This Happened Today

Today, we got some visitors from America, and they brought with them (drumroll please)... gifts from home!  Different friends in the states sent some of my favorite goodies, along with pictures and cards.  When living overseas, even a few items from loved ones at home mean so much.  Thank you friends!

Wasta, Wasta, eh, eh, eh

There's a special word for a special concept here in Lebanon.  It's called wasta, and it basically means connections.  Special connections.

Here's a little story of how we started getting some wasta of our own:

First, let me say that I love my apartment here.  My roommates and I think every day that we have a great apartment.  It's clean; it has great furniture; it's in a great location, and all for a great price.  We are very content to live out the next several months here.

To stay in Leb this year, we need to get residency, which is a year-long visa.  There are several things to you need to get residency and among them is a paper from your landlord saying that you have a place to live.  For many reasons, some lost in translation, our landlady refused to give us this paper.  Uh-oh.  We had about a week to find a new apartment (not-so-easily done) or find another way around this proof-of-housing thing.

Our Lebanese friend told us that the mayor can give us a form proving our hosing.  The mayor?  Really?  Let's just say that a mayor here in Lebanon works a little differently than a mayor in the US.

So one Monday morning, on a wing and prayer, we headed to find the elusive Mayor's office and see if he would help us, and he did!

We took the receipt from paying our building fees (with our address) and our passports in, paid $10 and got an official paper saying we lived there.  In the course of getting everything done we made a friend as well...

It turns out, the mayor was very impressed that we could find our apartment on an aerial map of Hamra hanging on his wall.  Then, we discovered that he studied at a university in Senegal that my roommate Jessica visited for a summer.  They bonded over their ability to speak a tribal Senegalese language.  A few more minutes and we were fast friends with the mayor.  He even said to call him Papa Mayor.  Wasta!

My Roommates with the Mayor of Harma and Kraytem

Our Proof of Residence from the Mayor, just
dripping with wasta...

There is a downside to wasta:  we usually end up on the losing side of the wasta battle.  For example, the Lebanese are pretty good at recognizing lines, unlike a lot of other countries where people just push in closest to the front.  Sometimes, because we are American, people will just get in front of us or shop or restaurant owners will help other Lebanese first, kind of like a "taking care of your own" mindset.  I didn't get to go with my friends to General Security the other day to apply for residency (I have shingles so I'm home-bound), but I heard that they we're wasta-ed out of the front of the line for about 2 1/2 hours.

I'll never forget the time that some friends and I were getting our nails done and our technicians literally left us mid-manicure and went to help 4 other technicians do the hair and nails of a woman who just walked in.  When I asked my friend what was going on, she said that the woman must be really important, and we'd just have to wait for them to come back to us.   I shake my fist at thee, wasta!

Anyway, I'm sure that about the time I have enough wasta to help me out, the school year will be over and I'll be heading home.  Here's to us all finding just enough wasta to help us out, but not enough to ruin everyone else's day.