Amy’s Journal

I don’t want to not mention it at all, in case anyone is concerned, but we are all fine.. there were a few minor injuries from the bomb that went off north of Beirut last night, but we were nowhere near it.

Bridget, Russell, and I are off to the beach!

It was sad to say goodbye to Ray and Geoff last night. We had so much fun with them, many nice adventures.

The past few days have been great, spending time with Ray, Geoff, Bridget, and Russell. We took a minibus to Baalbek and checked out the ruins there. We went to a place called Yabbani for sushi where the little lobby is actually an elevator that takes you to the underground restaurant. We have had so much delicious food.

Today in English class, only one student (Nabilah) showed up initially. The other volunteer instructor is helping to edit a documentary directed by a professor of hers called “Arabs and Terrorism”, so the 3 of us watched the trailer for the film. The film is mostly interviews with Westerners and Arabs. The trailer showed people like Jeanne Kirkpatrick saying absurd and slightly racist things and people like Hamas leaders saying very reasonable things. So it seems to have some sort of an agenda, though I will have to see the actual film to be sure.

The interesting thing was to see Nabilah’s reaction to what some of the Americans were saying. One of those interviewed was the sheriff of LA county and he said something like “maybe there is a genetic reason that there are so many terrorists in Arab countries”. The other volunteer and I laughed, but the look on Nabilah’s face was one of disbelief. She looked utterly crushed. I thought she was going to cry. I thought I was going to cry.

I had a really wonderful weekend in Damascus. Getting visas at the border was a breeze and there were no major delays, though there are still a ton of trucks stuck at the border. The media seems to have accepted Syria’s position that they are no longer being held up, but it just isn’t the case.

We spent most of our time wandering the old city, through the souqs and narrow streets. Damascus is very different from Beirut, far less westernized, you sort of feel that you have traveled further than 2 hours away. We ran into a friend of mine who volunteers with Najdeh and was also spending the weekend in Damascus. We ate in the courtyards of lovely cafes. I bought a tile with fish painted on it and a half kilo of Brazilian coffee beans. We had ice cream with fresh pistachios. We visited the fantastic Umayyad Mosque, one of the most important Islamic sites in the Middle East. There is something about the city that seems both bustling and relaxed and I can’t wait to go back. I would also really like to go to Aleppo soon.

On Saturday night, Ray and Geoff, our first guests, made it here without a hitch. I went with the taxi driver to pick them up and we were home about 40 minutes after they landed. We headed out to Gemmayze Cafe for some music and food, then on to Brooke’s where there was a cheesy 80s DJ. Otherwise it was as sedate as usual and we chatted with our bartender friend. Ray and Geoff’s jet lag tricked them into staying up until 4 AM, and we sat talking on the terrace.

Yesterday, there was some late sleeping before we went to brunch at Casablanca. For Ethan and I, this was pretty exciting. We were big lovers of brunch when we lived in NY, and this was our first omelettes and eggs benedict brunch in almost 3 months. Casablanca is in an old ottoman house near the sea and is very relaxing and pretty. Afterward, we walked downtown and talked about the controversy surrounding the reconstruction of Downtown. Critics say the restored version is too Disneyland, that pre-war owners were stripped of their property, that the stylish cafes are more than most Lebanese can afford, yet some tax money is used to support the project. On the other hand, all of the gutted and bombed buldings have been restored to their original elegance, many jobs have been provided, and the project certainly has helped bring in tourists.

We wandered among the cafes, then stopped by the grave of Rafik Hariri, then sat in Place de l’Etoile and had gelato. Carrie joined us, and we walked to Sky Bar to have a rooftop drink. Sky Bar is on the rooftop of a hotel on the sea. It is really lovely, but naturally, very pricey. At night, it is absolutely packed, which is why Ethan and I prefer to go around sunset when it is not as crowded.

On the way home, we walked the corniche, crowded with families who come to enjoy the sea air on Sundays. Children run around playing, adults sit and smoke argileh, sellers of coffee, bread, and corn push their carts around. I ran into a teenaged girl who participates in Najdeh’s vocational program.

We headed home and ended the evening with a BBQ on the terrace. It is so wonderful to have good friends here.

This morning, I was thinking that there are a lot of things about daily life here that I haven’t mentioned, so I thought I would cover a few of these topics. Today I will cover transportation.

The Lebanese like to drive. There are a lot of cars on the road, a lot of traffic, a lot of pollution, especially this time of year. The rules of the road are few- lanes are not used, most traffic lights and stop signs are ignored, one way streets are a mere recommendation. New York City cab drivers are downright timid compared to drivers here. Sometimes you see soldiers directing traffic at busy intersections, but there are no traffic police. Ethan and I joke that if the government wanted to solve its money problems ($38 billion debt, 180% of GDP), all they would have to do is hand out traffic tickets for a month.

Of course, we don’t have a car ourselves. We get around using a system of taxis, minivans, and buses. And feet, of course. Perhaps the most common way of getting around is to take a service. There are thousands of beat up old Mercedes driving around Beirut. You stop one (or more likely, the driver of one sees you and slows down and starts honking at you) and name your destination – usually something general, like a neighborhood. He either drives off or gestures for you to get in. There may or may not already be other people in the car, and now the driver will set off, trying to pick up other passengers along the way. This service is aptly called “service” (ser-vees) and usually costs about 60 cents per person. The most direct route may not be taken, and sometimes you meander in the wrong direction for some time. If you are in a hurry, you can take this same car as a taxi for a little over $3 total. There are also city buses and minibuses that go on set routes for about 30 cents. I often take the bus to get to Chatila.

You can also take a service or taxi from one of the “bus stations” (usually just an intersection or roundabout) to another part of Lebanon (or Syria). And there are minibuses and regular buses that you can take, which are quite cheap. For example, you can get to Tripoli, on the northern coast, for 60 cents in a minivan. These sort of troll along the highway, picking people up and dropping them off along the way.

Sadly, there are no trains in Lebanon. There used to be a few lines, but they were destroyed at the beginning of the war. There is a movement to rebuild the lines, but the government doesn’t seem interested, mostly because of the outrageous expense. You can still see crumbling old train cars in some places, left to disintegrate for over 30 years.

We received a package in the mail yesterday from my mom. I had to pick it up at the post office (just like Brooklyn!), fill out some paperwork, and pay a small fee. Inside the box were 2 big cans of chipotle peppers and a bottle of bluebonnet shower gel. Thanks, Mama!

Last night we had our patented pita burritas, and I used chipotle in the beans, rather than slimy, jarred jalapeños from Peru.

I’ve started working on a new project with Association Najdeh in Chatila. More on that later, but for the moment I can show you what I have achieved so far, which consists solely of having photographed dead tarantulas in the basement of the vocational center.

Also, while helping to show a few Australian tourists around the camp yesterday, we were entertained by a gaggle of little kids playing “dress up”.

Last night, Carrie and I sought out an Armenian restaurant neither of us had tried before. The name is great, I don’t know what it means in Armenian, but it is called “Mayass”. It turned out to be a fun place. It’s in an old house and the food is delicious, we had manty (little dumplings in yogurt sauce), fried potatoes with garlic and parsley, and some sort of meat in a spicy tomato sauce. There is a funny old man with a ponytail who goes around and serenades guests with his guitar. However, the highlight was probably the fact that Dan Rather was sitting at the table next to us all evening. Naturally, we spied on the conversation a fair amount. He was very gracious and dignified and it was odd to listen to that absolutely familiar voice not coming from the TV set.

When the guitar player came by, Mr. Rather asked for a “Lebanese song”, and the fellow obliged, followed by a fairly weak rendition of “Strangers in the Night”.