Tomorrow I will blog

I've been thinking about returning to the blog scene for some time now. Everytime I think about it I say to myself, "tomorrow I will blog." But then tomorrow turns into another day and another and another and before you know it time had flown by and the blog is still untouched. Today I decided that tomorrow as arrived. So here I am infront of the screen typing words into space still wondering if I should be blogging or journalling. Does it matter? Maybe....

Not for the Weak

Lebanon is not for the weak at heart. It is not for the weak at faith, either. It is for the brave, the trailblazers, the fearless. It is a land of contradictions, of continuous change, of consistencies and inconsistencies, challenges, opportunities and threats. Lebanon is a place that, at the same time, is appealing and repelling to the eyes, ears, nose and tongues. It is not a place for the weary, the doubtful or mocking. It is someplace where anything, and everything, is possible. And nothing but a journey to the center of the country can reveal that.

In the 3 years since I have been there so much has happened. So much bad, and not as much good – at least not on the public front. So many assassinations, sit-ins, demonstrations, political unrest, economic unrest, dragged the city on and wore it out. Lebanon was shelled from the outside, bombed from the inside, bankrupted, torn apart, bastardized. And yet it still stood. In the face of all, it remained, and remains. I thought it was a miracle but it really was the people – those unrelenting Lebanese with their will to push on no matter what the cost, what the prize.

A part of me envies those that hang tall, or short, in Lebanon. Those friends of mine who have found a way to make it work, to fight through the barricades and get married and start families. But a bigger part of me believes the country is better left to those who have remained in it. The rich are getting richer and the poor poorer so much so that you could almost reach out and touch that fine line of demarcation. The skyscrapers are a sure tell-tale sign but so are the people on the streets and in the stores.

Driving over a certain bridge in Beirut I could both conceptualize and visualize my departing from the opulence of the rich to the paucity of the poor. It is present in the buildings, in the roads, in the people. It is strikingly obvious you cannot ignore it.

Walking into a certain store in Beirut you could hear those who have and those who have not. Those who have not were asking their boss for their paychecks (it was already the 10th of the month) and those who have (or at least in this case have more) were telling their workers that they did not have the cash to pay them just yet. It was a classic case of cash flow issues. But it was also a classic case of expecting your workers to wait until you could afford to pay them and being certain they will not walk away on you – where would they go? They are lucky enough to even find a place that offers even sporadic paychecks.

This incident put a smile on my face – not a happy smile – but a smile of knowing I was back in Lebanon. The familiarity of it all, the certainty of knowing this is how it has always been and will always be, the confidence that this is a place I could navigate with my eyes closed without having to be a high-level communicator, without having to be cautious of hidden fees, of sale scams, of the fine print. It was a place of community, of interdependence, of sharing.

The weather was gorgeous and that was really a bonus- Jeff would have loved the weather, but he would have hated most everything else- the craziness of it all that is bitter-sweet.

I loved being with family; my cousins have grown up so much and have become such beautiful and successful people. It was great to see the transformation they had undergone since I last saw them in 2005. My grandparents have gotten older but my aunts and uncles have not changed.

What also remains unchanged is the power outages, the traffic, the noise and the dirty streets. Everyone still smokes everywhere and there is no consideration for babies, elders or the sick. It is simply a given that you have no objection to cigarettes and even nonsmokers oblige and are expected to do so. While Starbucks remains a smoking free haven, this is an anomaly rather than a trend. Surprisingly, that anomaly recently got a twin; AUB’s newest addition: the Charles W. Hostler Student Center, an $11.7M gift to the students of AUB and its alumni.

The traffic remains constantly backed-up and everyone still drives in that invisible middle-lane. Sidewalks are optional and there are just as many people on the roads as there are cars and the notion of a cross walk is just as foreign to the Lebanese as traffic lights. Vespas compete with hummers and 4x4s for driving priority and the sound of the horn is an undisputed constant. Despite this traffic jungle, astonishingly not many accidents happen on these narrow and decaying roads.

Sukleen is still as successful as ever - how the Lebanese could ever live without the Sudanese, the Syrians, the Egyptians and other "foreign" workers cleaning up after them I do not know. Trash cans serve decorative purposes only, and are secretly discouraged; If you did use them you would be denying some poor fellow the measly paycheck at the end of the month - and you do not want to bear the brunt of guilt of having put someone out of work, do you?

In all fairness though, a word praising the development of Beirut is due. Beirutis now are required to be armed with loads of 500 LPs in coins to feed the newly emerging and still expanding parking meters. Yes, you have read correctly. The streets of Beirut, while not all just yet, are now neatly lined with shiny new parking meters that are regularly manned by meter maids – male maids – scouting for that one car whose time has expired by no more than a minute in order to slap a ticket to the windshield. Surprised? Well, hold your horses, this is not where the story ends. I was certainly surprised to see that the government had finally figured out a new revenue generating mechanism that did not involve further sales tax, panhandling on the doors of other wealthy countries, or raising the price of gas, wheat, water or electricity. I was actually proud there for a minute until I was given the real scoop on this arrangement.

These parking meters were actually privately owned by a company who bought, installed and ran the meters, collected the revenues and paid the meter maids. That company is owned by no other than the city manager of Beirut! Yes, that is correct – the Beirut city manager owns a parking meter company, uses public land for revenue generation, collects the revenue and gives the government its share after pocketing undisclosed sums of cash. Welcome to Lebanon! Worse of all, if you do get fined you have to pay the fine at the meter where the ticket was written; don't ask, don't tell!

Good Luck Lebanon. May you become developed one of these days!

2008 - not just another year

2008 has gone by so fast. In a matter of months we went from painting our house in Portland to packing our bags and moving back to the East Coast. We lived in Bethesda before settling in Arlington, if only temporarily.

From then on it was working and living in New York for a month, to working in DC and living in VA. Vancouver BC in the dead cold of January, San Francisco in the wonders of the Spring, Nashville in the heat of July, another visit to San Francisco in the Fall, and the seasons faded into each other. With Winter well on its way, it is Thanksgiving in New York, and December in Seattle and Portland.

And, if that was not enough to keep you guessing where Ranya is going next, she is on the fly again. Breaking the cold of the winter with a trip to warm Jordan at the end of November, she will hail the New Year in Beirut.

From being naturalized and obtaining her American passport, to voting during the historical American elections, Ranya conquered miles this year. Working at a hospital, then going on a job-hunting spree, she unexpectedly took on more responsibilities than she ever thought she would. Starting off as merely the office manager, she is now not only taking part in business development and procurement, but is also being sent as a delegate of the company to international conferences around the world.

But work and travel are not the only things that have occupied Ranya during 2008. Her very first football game was packaged in club level seats, and her spiritual journey pinnacled with concluding the Koran for the very first time in less than 30 days. Her yoga practice has taken a whole new dimension, with regular classes 4 times a week, and the presence of her husband to share the journey. New recipes were mastered with her cooking repertoire expanding to include items such as beef brisket, coconut mussels and finally mastering sfoof!

This year certainly left nothing to be desired, except maybe the pitter-patter of little feet. But that, my friends, is a chapter for another year. Stay tuned!

Homemade Strawberry Vinigrette

Here's a wonderful way to get rid of that red balsamic vinegar that you bought ages ago and did not like.

Boil 5 frozen strawberries with a tablespoon of white sugar and 4 tablespoons of the vinegar. Once the berries are soft, transfer to a food processor and pulse until the berries are puried into the mixture. Return to pot and bring to boil again, reduce heat and leave to simmer 4 minutes. Pour into glass container and let cool completely. Serve with your favorite goat cheese and cranberry salad. I add dried apricots, sunflower seeds, endives and lettuce to mine. Yum!

The Visitor

"In a world of six billion people, it only takes one to change your life."

excerpt from the movie, The Visitor

There are some movies that come and go and others that stay with you. Some that you see for fun, for a laugh, or to waste time. Then, there are those that take you away, absorb you in and remind you of things that you would have rather forgotten. "After a while you forget, you think you belong." But do you really? Do you really belong? Or is it just a smoke screen? Something you tell yourself in order to carry on? You really think you belong and you build your life around that belief. You live for years. And then, it all ends. In one sudden, unassuming move, it all washes away. You are removed from that which you had put together. You are taken away, no questions asked and no answers. You are suddenly back, back to that place from which you had tried to escape. Back to persecution, back to abandonment.

What on earth am I writing about? Watch the Visitor. Pretend you are an immigrant. Put yourself in their shoes. See how you feel. See what you think. What do you think?

I think life is full of surprises. Some good, some not so good. Some - like me - are forunate. Others, not as much. I will never get deported, I am a citizen now. But there are others, many others who will never have a chance at that. Who will always live with the fear of being randomly stopped in the metro station and find themselves in a detention facility on their way back to where they came from. And many of them, (I cannot generalise to say all of them) are innocent people, here to try for a better life, are here looking for safety and security. They will never know.........Or worse, they would have only started to know, to feel, to live, in time to be sent back, to be deprived, to be denied......... Why?

I'm packing my bags!

New York here I come!!!

It is like a dream come true. I get the call on Wednesday and all of a sudden I am quitting my part-time sales job and gearing up for my month-long stay in NY! I am besides myself with excitement and I am quickly running out of people to call and tell. This must be one of the best things that has happened to me this year. And I am certain there will be more to come....

words to live by