This is why I love her

An SMS from the wife who’s, as previously mentioned, abroad for work:

“At first I thought the positive attitude from the staff was refreshing, but today I just miss the cynicism.”

That’s the spirit, Honey!

Sobering thoughts

A recent post on the British Ambassador to Lebanon’s blog caught my attention and brought about a profound sense of sadness.

Here’s an excerpt:

-

There are nearly 60 Palestinian veterans in Lebanon who served with the British army during the 2nd World War.   The tragic irony of their situation is heart-wringing.   After loyally serving the Union Jack, in 1948 they were forced to flee their homes when the state of Israel was created.   Some of them have been in refugee camps in Lebanon ever since.  They are getting old (even those who joined up too early at the age of sixteen are over 80 now) and in need of medical attention.  

This week we had a visitor from the Royal Commonwealth ex-services League.  He was here to visit some of the veterans in their homes and oversee the work that is done on the League's behalf to give some assistance to these men in need. 

-

The sense of gross failure, to both people and state leading up to the Nakhba, sticks in my throat and slowly gives way to anger. The provision of medical care seems like a drop in the ocean.

With Remembrance Sunday not too far off, I’m looking forward to going to the British war cemetery in Jalloul, in Assas. It’s a most humbling experience for an expat with a military upbringing. Plus, they serve good cake.

In comparison to the British cemetery (which is actually quite pleasant), the French equivalent, which on the same road, is in a state of disrepair and is a thoroughly depressing place. There’s also some sort of migrant’s cemetery across from the military sites, I forget the details exactly, but I believe they were mainly Eastern European names on the tombstones. I don’t believe they were Armenian, which might have been the obvious answer. However, if I recall, the dates on the tombstones were around the Second World War. Which raises the possibility that they were Jewish immigrants heading for Israel.

I might well post some shots on Remembrance Sunday, but I shall certainly look into the Eastern European site.

If anyone has a clue as to the background of the "Eastern European" site, I'd love to know.

Rules of life

A list of thoughts, vaguely aimed at newcomers, after 6'ish years in Lebanon:



1. An expensive TV is worth little when one has pirated cable


2. Always carry a bottle of water with you when entering an elevator … power outages are not your friend


3. Always negotiate the price before entering a service (shared taxi) a basic understanding of numbers helps here, though not always


4. Forget the concept of punctuality, it will do you no good


5. The “I’m a dumb foreigner, help me” line generally works, unless negotiating with a service driver


6. Failing to like parsley, and therefore tabbouleh, marks you out as a devil worshiper


7. Learn to love parsley


8. Unless you’ve played rugby or American football before, you can forget about getting to the front of the welcoming crowd at the airport. Live with it


9. Light, or indeed A/C, is not a requirement for life


10. Before driving rehearse a mantra. “It’s not personal”, or “I’m not a bad person” are good starting points


11. There is a reason why people drive slowly on the highway when it rains, you’ll soon discover it


12. Learn to drink neat spirits, it’ll save you a lot of pain on your first trip to Gemmayze


13. Yes, shots are compulsory


14. The concept of lines, or queues, doesn’t exist, gentle use of elbows is the way forward, if you're a woman, you can forget to be gentle


15. If you’re European-looking it’s assumed you understand no Arabic. This can be useful. Do not spoil it for the rest of us


16. Visiting General Security or the Ministry of Labour? Bring a book


17. Abandon all principles of “dieting” or “healthy eating” when visiting a home


18. Talk topics: Religion, politics, sex, electricity. Or electricity, sex, politics, religion


19. Foreigners: Do not attempt to talk politics or religion at first; you’ll inevitably get it wrong. You’ll probably get the sex part wrong too … electricity’s your safe ground here


20. Foreigners: Lebanese are the most hospitable people in the world. Learn to love caffeine


21. A dynamo torch is your best friend


22. Foreign men: Gentlemen, Lebanese women are incredible (and, in the main, not due to this). However, they also have male relatives, often hundreds of them and you are not their idea of the ultimate brother-in-law


23. Foreigners: You need only five Arabic words/expressions, to live in Lebanon: anjad, yani, bukhra, inshallah and m’baref

23(b). Krikor rightly suggested the addition of yalla to the list. I'm slightly ashamed I missed it. 

23(c). Joe's nominee is habibi, favorite of everyone from service drivers to the mother-in-law.


24. You need to be able to spell those using numbers where applicable


25. Inshallah means many different things depending on the context. Understand this to avoid disappointment


26. Learning to distinguish between gunfire, fireworks, firecrackers and backfiring cars will help lower your blood pressure


27. It’s acceptable for older people to stare at you in public. It is not acceptable to stare back, it makes you look like a loon
 
28. Never enter a bank, keep your money under your mattress
 
29. Memorize when the electricity is going to cut ... that way, you'll only be surprised when they change the schedule, that's when you'll thank me for passing on rule No. 2...
 
30. Almaza is the finest "beer" in the world, this is not up for debate. Quibble with this at your peril and never, never, mention any reservations about the quality of Almaza in public
 
If anyone has anything to add, feel free.

Six months late, as usual...

I have finally signed up to Twitter.

Wheter or not this will actually add up to anything worthwhile is debatable... nevertheless, it has happened.

It wasn't me...

Here I am.

I'll see on you on the bridge, will you hold my hand?

As if that wasn’t enough…

Here’s a link to a lovely PDF download that’ll tell you that, a., Lebanon is on the verge of war, and b., that it’ll be much, much worse than 2006.

Via. here.

Mondays, huh?

Happy Monday

I, like all bloggers I assume, read a collection of blogs related to my “field”*. Occasionally I’ll re-post something I see.

It’s Monday morning, with all that entails, and here’s a piece from Sawt al Niswa (Voice of the Women) that fits the mood:

“This country keeps putting you down, reminding you that you cannot go anywhere unless you come from a place where you either have a huge bank account behind your back or a huge “wasta” from some someone or somewhere.

Society is constructed in a way where you should live with your parents for the rest of your life, or until you get married, because the rents are too high, and when you need anything, you should ask your mumy and daddy always to pay for your education fees, and if you want to do it, yourself, then forget about it.” [Spelling mistake in the original.]

A touch melodramatic, though not by much, but there you go.

Thought I’d cheer you up on Monday morning.

Enjoy the week!

*I say “field”, because to write “the vague area on which we blog” would be ridiculous. Nevertheless, I’ve just typed it.

On friends and family…

A lighthearted take on something that’s been happening to me recently.

The wife is out of town. This presents a problem.

Each and every night I have been invited out to a variety of events. Wednesday: Dinner and drinks with my sister-in-law and her fiancée (both good friends of mine, very nice, a fun time was had). Last night: Work event, followed by beer at a friend's bar. I skipped out before my friends went off to watch The Banana Cognacs in Dany’s. Tonight: Family dinner. Though I intend to skip out on that one, too much depressing talk about the cost of wedding venues in Lebanon. So far, the only free day I have since the missus fled the country on Tuesday is Saturday, though I seem to remember a brunch date.

One of my dearest friends even offered to buy me groceries. I nearly choked to death. I’ve never seen this woman cook, let alone shop for food. She’s a take-out sort of girl not a domestic goddess. Nevertheless, I was tempted to send her down to Spinneys looking for some obscure brand of Italian Buffalo Mozzarella. But I’m not that cruel. Well, actually, I am, but the offer took me by complete surprise.

Another friend invited me to an Alan Shore-Denny Crane-style sleepover. I wasn’t quite sure how to take that. On the other hand, he is my flamingo.

"Does the Cosmopolitan make me

look a little, y'know?"

Let’s put this in context. I’ve lived at home for the grand total of two years since leaving secondary school, with the exception of holidays during the university breaks. At the age of 18 I had learnt to fly small aircraft and lived, alone, in New York. Since then, I’ve bounced around a fair bit. I have white hairs in my beard. Actually, “beard”, is a somewhat misleading term, I have white in my overgrown designer stubble.

However, apparently, I can’t be trusted to buy food. Nor eat, judging by the amount of invitations to dinner I’ve received from my mother-in-law.

Beans: Gourmet eating

I know this is a Lebanese hospitality-thing, however ... my friends, I love the lot of you, but I’m not two years old.

Though, if someone’s willing to pop over and iron a few shirts, that’d be great.