Conversation with a taxi driver

Me: Sodeco Square, please.

Taxi driver: Sodeco?

Me: Yes.

(We drive.)

(Later...)

Taxi driver: Muthaf? (Museum?)

Me: No, Sodeco Square.

Taxi driver: Sodeco?

Me: Yes, Sodeco.

Taxi driver: Wayn fi Sodeco? (Where in Sodeco?)

Me: Just Sodeco. Binayat fi Sodeco. (A building on Sodeco.)

Taxi driver: Muthaf? Muthaf watani? (National Museum?)

Me: No, Sodeco.

Taxi driver (after we are almost at the museum): Muthaf.

Me: Not muthaf, Sodeco.

(Then he tells me I have to walk back the way we just came or get another taxi. It was a ten minute walk. By some miracle, I was not late to my meeting. If he was going to make me walk, he could have just dropped me off at the corner instead of driving a ten minute walk away from my destination. Sodeco Square is a well-known area in Beirut. I got out without paying. For all the times I've been ripped off by cab drivers here, why should I pay when I he made me walk to my destination?)

I see

I can see three churches and two mosques from my office window. I see enormous cranes erecting new high rises next to crumbling, bullet-riddled buildings. I see Roman ruins, Beirut ruins, and towering skyscrapers scintillating under the Mediterranean sun. I see the port where massive ships carrying goods from overseas come to dock. I see banks and satellite dishes and plants growing on top of buildings because there is no soil on the ground for them to grow. I see the reconstructed Ottoman building that houses the Prime Ministry and five star hotels and far too many cars.

But I should be at the beach.

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I'm already getting sucked in.

So what are you seeing here? Well, here we go:

Memorial rally for Prime Minister Hariri's assassination. It's been five years now. Seems like an eternity.

He's not Superman. Popart exhibition at Art Lounge.

King Elvis - if you click on the image you will be able to see the bobblehead Elvis on the dashboard.

A can of Seven Up - I find the logo clever - what looks like a 7 actually says up, and what would be up actually says seven. From right to left, of course.

Down the road along the sea - rich people have stolen both a view of the sea and the sun. These towering skyscrapers and what will be new seaside developments (for wealthy gulfies) will also steal the air from the people, as they are blocking the sea which has had some effect on cleaning up the pollution that plagues Beirut. Look for increases in asthma, bronchitis, and other respiratory related infections.

Where my office is - no, not the bullet-riddled building on the right.

Racism in Beirut. Made in Germany. No one ever accused the Germans of not being racist.

Orange trees in front of a house. They picked them the next day.

Wall art in a restaurant.

Hizbollah poster.

Kaboom goes the tolerance

Earlier in the day, it was sort of raining, which produced an amazing rainbow over the sea. Now it is a bit brighter and there are some guys outside cutting up the street with some type of machine. One guy is doing the pushing while another stands with a jug of water, which he periodically pours on the machine to put out the flames it shoots out. The machine is running on gas. A gas can sits not too far from them. Cars are dashing and prancing by them - I wonder if their drivers even notice the fire.

I've been wrestling a bit with my biases since I've arrived, and I can't figure out why I have them. I never felt the need to say "why do they do it this way?" in the past, but most of my travel experience has been in the West, with only brief stints in Cairo, Jordan, and Istanbul. Perhaps since I've spent a few weeks in Lebanon (two last summer, one so far on this trip) I've had more time to notice things I deem "problems." Perhaps it's because Beirut seems like a Western city from appearances and I assume they have Western views on safety. Perhaps as I've grown older, I've become less tolerant of cultural differences.

Or perhaps this really is just stupid.

Come on, you're using a gas-powered machine that's spitting out flames and think pouring water on it is going to stop it from exploding before you finish cutting up the street?

You might want to get to the end of this rainbow and talk to the leprechaun if you're gonna keep doing it this way.

Floating on

It's been rainy and sunny at the same time all day and a little chilly, especially with the wind gusts. Everyone here thinks it's so cold and I laugh, the same way I laugh at people from the South or California who think fifty degrees in winter is cold. I've heard Jerusalem might get a dusting of snow after midnight, which might also hit here, but that was on Twitter so who knows if it will really happen. Even if it does it will be melted and warmed up enough to not feel like winter by the time I get up. The humidity is really something.

The Med's pretty rough today - white caps are aplenty. It sort of looks like a river good for whitewater rafting, if you can ignore that it stretches to the horizon...and now...the storm clouds are coming in...a ship is coming into port (how the heck do those things float?)...Beirut darkens...and the sea disappears.

But a few minutes later, it returns, and another ship, this one leaving Beirut, appears from beneath the nothingness. For where? What does it carry? Lebanese oranges? Beiruti bananas? Hizbollah drugs and weapons?

The gray has already lifted, revealing patches of blue that make the Mediterranean what it is, a way of life, the color of the soul. Fluffy white clouds laced with the yellow tint of evening follow what had once been darkness. In twenty minutes, a storm was here, then gone, leaving behind the sound of tires splashing through puddles, and what puddles there are, like in any old town, like in Washington, USA, turning the streets into rivers, and mud comes from seemingly nowhere to be suddenly everywhere.

Some Beirut

A few random photos: Roman columns downtown; snow and palm trees on Bliss Street; new mosque and bombed out mall; bombed out church; orange tree ready to eat; generators for when the electricity is out.

I suppose I should write something about why I took each of these photos, but that's just it - I don't know why. I only know that they caught my eye for being so typically Beirut, the kind of life crammed into a situation type of thing that you don't get in too many places on this planet. I mean, sure, there are Roman columns all over the place in so many different countries. But these columns, well, they were discovered after the Beirutis bombed whatever was on top of them out of existence, and they stand next to a T.G.I.Fridays in a downtown rebuilt from the ground up after it was leveled during a 15 year war.

And these snow-covered mountains? They're located about an hour away from palm trees. Lebanon is one of the few places on Earth where you can ski in full view of the sea and go to the beach on the same day.

Bliss Street is named after Daniel Bliss, the founder of the American University of Beirut, which is, obviously, located on Bliss Street, which is where I was standing when I took this picture. Funny, but in July, you couldn't see the mountains from this street through all the haze, so when I was on this street, looking at the snow, I didn't realize where I was.

And where else are you going to find the remains of a shopping center, crying for a bulldozer, near a shiny newish mosque where an assassinated prime minister who rebuilt a city lays in rest?

(Maybe it's not a shopping center - someone told me it was, and there is a parking lot beneath it that you can no longer get to. It's a strange shape, anyway.)
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A bombed out church, next to a highway, that I walk by every day on my way to the office. This corpse of a church is located across from the corpse of a shopping mall down the street from the newish mosque.

I wonder why it hasn't been rebuilt when so many other churches have been. It has trees growing in it. Someone hung a banner on it advertising some Christmas charity, so it isn't totally ignored. Perhaps they just decided to build a brand new church somewhere.

Perhaps the war made them give up God.

Some people have maple trees in their yards. Some have oak trees. Some have elms, hickories, and pines. In Lebanon, lucky people get to have orange trees. How tough it is to walk by and not pick one!

I love this building, too. They have such great architecture, Italian style. Still need some paint, though, and the buildings are covered with the sludge of pollution. (There's something to be said for government regulation of emissions.)

And lastly, the generators, ahh, the generators, the only way you get to have electricity 24 hours a day. Odd for a city that seems so cosmopolitan.

Ahh, the life...

I've never even had an office with a window and now I get this view?

So I finally will have regular internet access from now on, at least access that doesn't require effort like getting in an elevator and going downstairs. But oh, is it tough to focus when I can just stare out at the Mediterranean.

I decided I am going to walk to the office every day (unless it's raining, and maybe even then.) It is only a half hour, and I only half to dash across one crazy street if I cut through the government area, which will probably require me getting my bag checked every morning. Fine with me if it means being safe. The guard was really nice about it this morning, even apologized.

(Boy, is this internet connection is sloooooooooooo ooooooooooo oooooooooow. Perhaps I won't post photos here as much as I'd like. Been trying to upload a second photo for ten minutes now.)

Here's a church next to a mosque, a palm tree at AUB, a violation of copyright, and some palm trees on top of a building. I'll post more pics when my patience refills.