Amy’s Journal

Today we had a party in my English class for October birthdays. Yes, I know that we are a third of the way through November, but as it turned out, there was only one October birthday, and she went out of town. Then the holiday lasted most of last week.

I had promised cake and music, and I delivered on the former. Unfortunately, the electricity went out for most of the class period, which kind of cut back on the party vibe. They were all very funny, the teenagers took about a billion pictures of each other with my camera, the adults just sat and chatted, but seemed impressed that an effort had been made. Toward the end of the hour, the electricity came back on, and we all clapped. There was a bit of dancing to a music video – some blond Arab gal wearing shiny pink and very skimpy pajamas. It is sort of bizarre how Arabic pop stars are every bit as slutty looking as their western counterparts.

Ooh- I forgot to mention that the one month countdown is upon us……

After a brunch at Casablanca to celebrate Carrie’s official entrance into the foreign service (yay-she starts training in D.C. in January) and a bit of relaxing at home, Ethan and I headed to visit some friends of ours in Achrafiyeh. We knew that an early dinner was on the agenda, so we decided to pop into the Monoprix near their apartment to get some ice cream to bring with us. Monoprix is a French chain, and there are several of their grocery/department stores here in Beirut.

Neither of us had ever been into this particular store, and once inside, we realized the the grocery store part was not right there- we had entered into the clothing section. I glanced around quickly, decided that finding and buying ice cream (presumably on another floor) would make us late, so we just turned around and left. No big deal, until the alarm went off as I was leaving. I had no bag with me, just a wallet and cell phone in my jacket pocket, so I figured turning out my pockets would be enough to convince security that their machine was just sensitive, and we’d be on our way. Nope.

They hustled me off to an office on the side of the store, and started making phone calls. I continued to protest. The security guards blocked the door. It was ascertained that there was some sort of label on the inside of my jeans, which I could feel along the hemline near the thigh, which was setting off the sensors. So no big deal, a no-theft tag put in in by the manufacturer that I should have cut out. Obviously, I didn’t steal anything, time to go. A woman was brought in.

She was sympathetic- “Oh, you got these jeans in New York, that is why.” I tried to leave.

“No, we must remove the tag.”

“No, I will just do it at home, I’m not taking my pants off right now.”

“I’m sorry, we need to get it out.”

What? I have to take my pants off and give the tag to this woman because it set off the alarm in the store she works for? I am standing in front of a glass door in a tiny little office, no way am I taking my clothes off to hand over this stupid tag. For all I knew, it could be sewn into the jeans and it could be a whole process to remove.

So I pushed past her and the guys outside, and we left, ignoring the flood of protests. I don’t think I will go back to Monoprix anytime soon.

The rest of the evening was far more pleasant. We spent a few hours with our friends and their 2 awesome children. We are lucky to have met so many interesting people here in Beirut.

It was pouring rain when we left to head back to Hamra, but we found a service pretty easily. The driver was a real character, a pudgy 37 year old who had a real talent for beat-boxing. It was amazing how many different sounds he could make with his mouth at once. All the way home, he cracked us up by beat-boxing to random BeeGees and Rod Stewart songs.

Today was a lazy day as I was a bit under the weather. I did manage to get out for a short walk around Hamra/Manara. I have the next few days off because of the holiday, which should be nice, though it is supposed to be in the 60s and overcast and/or rainy for the forseeable future.

Today was the 30th day of Ramadan, and most Muslims around the world will celebrate Eid al-Fitr tomorrow. Today was the last day of fasting, and tomorrow most businesses will close so that people can be with their families.

Last night, Ethan and I spent iftar with Wissal and her family. Wissal is the director of the center where I teach English. She lives in Bourj al-Barajneh camp, and because of all of the traffic, we barely made it to her place in time. We had a cozy feast on the floor, followed by delicious pistachio and cream desert (I forgot the name).

We celebrated Ethan’s birthday all weekend, most notably by attending a Halloween party at the US Embassy on Saturday night.

Our costumes were pretty thrown together; at about 5 PM we went around the corner to the shop of a guy who always sells random stuff. Ethan got some zombie face paint, and I got a very low quality bat cape and hood and one of those knife headbands that makes it look like you have a knife going all the way through your head. Carrie came over in her spider costume, and after a quick dinner, we were set to go.

A friend had offered to drive the three of us to the embassy, but the pickup point was a 10 minute walk away, down Hamra Street, always busy in the early evening. We knew we would stand out- Halloween is not celebrated much here, but we were unprepared for the level of fanfare.

It was like we were in a parade. People were waving and calling out to us from across the street. Adults were pointing us out to their stunned children. Cars slowed down, people giggled, pointed, and called out words of encouragement. As we stood waiting for our ride, two girls from Qatar got out of their SUV and asked if they could have their pictures taken with Ethan. Another guy appeared with a video camera and trained it on the three of us. “Fantastic!” he said to me.

We were a little less famous at the party itself, but we had a good time. Lots of dancing and chatting with embassy staff. People from the embassy are always surprised to find out that there are westerners who actually live in Beirut. This is probably because they have to live on the embassy compound under heavy security. The embassy is in Awkar, which is a 20 or 30 minute drive from Beirut. If they want to leave the compound to, say, go out for dinner, they must submit a written request 24 hours in advance, detailing where they will be. They must also be accompanied by bodyguards. Very inconspicuous.

Ethan ended up winning first prize (a bottle of Wardy red) for “Scariest Costume”. After saying thanks, he took the microphone and said something like,”Wow, I thought this prize would go to the guy dressed as George Bush.” I was so proud, even though I think myself and the (nonplussed) event coordinator were the only ones who heard it.

That night there was a huge storm that lasted till morning. We went to Casablanca for Sunday brunch and watched the waves splash onto the corniche.

Today is Ethan’s actual birthday (Happy Halloween) so we are going out to dinner as a final celebration.

Today there was a Hezbollah parade for Jerusalem (al-Quds) Day, to protest the Israeli occupation. In fact, it is just ending. Several television stations carried it in its entirety. It took place in the southern suburbs of Beirut. When I passed through the area earlier, I saw a family piled onto a scooter with a huge yellow flag, as well as some others walking with flags. I know it is silly that I took photos of the TV, but I kind of just wanted to show that it looked exactly like a military parade anywhere (except that some of the regiments (?) were goosestepping).

Apparently, Nasrallah gave a speech claiming that the UN report is an attempt to sabotage relations between Lebanon and Syria. He said that Hezbollah would stand by the Syrian leadership and people.

Now Al-Manar, the Hezbollah run TV station is showing some of its propaganda videos, as it often does. Common themes include mosque domes, funerals of babies, heroic and scary looking fighters, and white doves flying.

We had a great time with the Sidani family last night. We had lots of delicious food, and explanations for everything. It is traditional to break the fast with a date, because this is what Mohammed did. They are a lot of fun, and they all have good stories, about the war and different life experiences.

One of the daughters, who I suspect is around 30, has been with her husband (who was also there) since they were children. When he was 11, he was new at her school, and one of the only blond-haired kids. He also had a motor scooter, so I think he was quite a catch. He used to take her for rides, but he also had to give rides to all of her cousins so that her mother would let her go, thinking that it meant nothing, since he would take each girl around.

During the war, the families in the building would sometimes spend days in the hallway, where it was deemed to be safer from shelling. The kids have memories of uncles and other family members playing games with the kids and trying to entertain them so that they wouldn’t be afraid. Everyone shared food when it was too dangerous to go out.

Last night, different family members from the building came and went, bringing their argileh pipes with them, stopping to visit for a few minutes or an hour.

The family has been inviting us to come for coffee or food since we moved in, but always in a nonchalant way– “Come have coffee sometime.” In the US, this clearly means, “It is possible that someday I will invite you over, but I will let you know.” Here, it is literal, which we realized, but at the same time could not manage to get past our cultural hangups and just randomly knock on the door to invite ourselves in. Maybe now we will find that a little easier.

I’ve had a bit of an epic day so far, beginning with a nice long chat with Russell via IM. It was late at night for him, and early in the morning for me, which I kind of like. I had my coffee and my labneh as we chatted. Then he said goodnight, and I headed off to the camp.

English class was fun. After the journal writing and the vocabulary words, I asked them to each write a question that they wanted to ask me on a notecard. I answered them all – most notably, “Why don’t you have any children?” – something that I have not been able to adequately explain, since they all think I am married. Then each of them had to go around and answer the same questions. Lots of giggles when you ask a 16 year old girl what her husband’s name is and ask why she doesn’t have any children.

One of my students was missing, because her mother was in the hospital, so after class, another teacher and I went to see them. Haifa Hospital is in Bourj al-Barajneh camp, and is the only hospital in the Beirut area that Palestinians can use. It is a very basic hospital, and for very specialized emergency care, they must go to a hospital near Saida and Ain el-Helweh camp, which can take well over an hour to reach. The mother of a friend of mine died in February after being turned down at a Lebanese hospital in Beirut- they weren’t able to make it to the hospital in the South in time.

Haifa Hospital was actually nicer than I had anticipated. It’s certainly spare, but it seems clean, with very professional doctors and staff. It is far less depressing than the hospital I visited in Tbilisi, Georgia a year ago. That said, employees are still paid very little and electricity cuts are common.

The mother of my student was actually being released, so the other teacher and I helped her get a taxi to go home. My student and I helped her get upstairs. The other teacher was male and therefore could not take her arm to help her. Once upstairs, she seemed to regain some color and feel better. She and her husband are both English teachers and were extremely welcoming, insisting that I drink jellab and coffee and eat fruit, even though the whole family was fasting.

We are heading downstairs for iftar with our landlord’s family now.

After taking photos of the ruined synagogue in downtown Beirut, I decided I should probably do some basic research on Jews in Lebanon.

Basically, there was a small Jewish community here, mostly in Beirut. Unlike in many other countries in the Middle East, the Jewish population here actually grew after 1948, the year that Israel was formed and the first Palestinian refugees fled (called Nakba, or disaster, by Palestinians). Some sources say that there were as many as 14,000 Jews in Lebanon in the mid-60s, in spite of some setbacks, such as the Wadi Bujmil Synagogue (see previous post) being bombed in 1958. After the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, things began to change. Jews could no longer serve in the Lebanese Army, for instance. Many Lebanese Jews emigrated around this time; most went to the U.S. or Europe, rather than to Israel. Many more left once the civil war broke out in 1975. For those who stayed, times were pretty rough. After Israel invaded, there were several murders and kidnapping of Lebanese Jews. It is not known exactly how many Jews live in Lebanon today, but most estimates I read said, “less than 100.”

Here is an interesting graph, which I completely stole. If this is accurate, then the number of Jews displaced from Arab countries after the creation of Israel is not so different from the number of 1948 Palestinian refugees. There is a movement, of which I was unaware, to help Jews receive retribution for what they lost.