On Economical Systems

Hubbie and I in general are on the same political wave length. I believe I am a bit more realistic in my thinking, and so does he, but other than that, we are like-minded. But what we really disagree on, are our ideas on the economical system this country should run on. He’s a staunch capitalist, I’m (according to Dutch model) in favor of the social-democratic model, a system which hubbie incorrectly refers to as ‘communism’. Just some random pictures; in the back of a 'Service'.

And so I was quite in favor of this podcast. I can’t vouch for the accuracy of the figures mentioned in the talk (The auhtor mentions that a Beirut downtown new year’s celebration, Viva Las Vegas, is selling tickets for $5,500; this is twice the average annual income in Lebanon. I checked the web site, but cannot find the reference to the $5,500 tickets, the most expensive one being $667; The Royal Flush), but even if it is not exact, the gist is quite clear (and accurate, as far as I am concerned); the gap between rich and poor in this country is not healthy.

People do, and I quote the author of the article, Ghassan Karam, “have a moral obligation and an ethical responsibility to carry their fair share of the costs of running the society that they are members of.” (text can be found here).

Where did I get this sudden inspiration? I went to get an oil change for my car yesterday, and must have passed a minimum of 11 Hummers. Throw in some Porche Cayennes, and other high-end SUV’s, and I think I’ve passed more cars over $50,000 than under.

I just spend 10 days in Holland. I did not see one Hummer of Proche Cayenne. Not one! (Hubbie says that is because we are communist :)

More random pictures; in the donut shop.

Besides, even at ‘only’ 667 dollars, I don’t know anyone willing to shell out that kind of money to spend your New Year’s Eve with a group of people you don’t know. Do you?

Some Not So Nice Things . . .

. . . in this place. Children hanging around traffic, trying to sell roses or chewing gum. We don’t have a lot of beggars in Lebanon. There’s the usual wheelchair brigade, people on crutches and elderly people fallen on hard times.
And then there are the bedouins, which would be called gypsies in other cultures/places. The men often work in agriculture, are day laborers, and in some areas the women do the harvesting as well. But the children are often sent out to beg for money on the streets of Beirut. Bedouin children have a flax-like quality to their hair, and their hair color is sometimes unusually fair in comparison to the skin color. They’re very street smart in general.
But these children were not bedouin children, they seemed to be regular Lebanese children. Lebanese in general are not prone to begging. And these kids, walking between cars on the highway, it’s dark, it’s wet, and they’re quite short, so very difficult to spot. They should be at home.

I Don’t Make This Stuff Up . . .

. . . although you might think I do. But I assure you, these things happen in this place.

I’ve been back in Beirut for less than 10 hours. I’ve been doing laundry all day, emptying suitcases, cleaning up things, and taking care of all kinds of chores (fixing the bathroom sink, the ceiling light in the hallway, the lines of the laundry rack on the balcony) that have been on my list for at least 4 months now, but that I have been able to ignore very conveniently. This city drains energy like nothing else, and I notice that especially when I’ve been away for some days. A stay abroad always creates heightened energy levels with me.

And finally, after a day of hard work, the dog announces he wants to be walked. It is dark outside, so no need to dress ‘up’, put on make-up or appear otherwise decent; the street lights are out anyway and no one will see me in the dark. I might run into someone in the elevator, but I’ll take my chances. I wear an old sweater, and I’m a bit smelly, but a bit of perfume will take care of that.

And so, as I walk with my dog, I pass a young man. It is dark, so I cannot see him all too well, but he appears to be in his twenties.

“Excuse me, this may be a weird question, but what cologne are you using?”

I swear, that’s what he said. He used the word ‘cologne’. I would have gone for the term ‘perfume’.

Now I’ve been in Holland for ten days, and I tell you, we Dutch don’t have ‘that’. I don’t know what ‘that’ exactly is, but they have ‘it’ in Beirut. That ‘knack for things’. That awareness.

Nothing goes by unnoticed.

Great city.

Now let's see if I can find out where my Christmas cards went.

It was Kenzo, by the way.

No Mail

From the LibanPost website

If you have any query regarding Libanpost, the company or its services, kindly fill in this form and we will get back to you within 2 business days.

And so I mail the following:

December 18, 2009

Regarding; Mail Not Arriving

Dear Sirs,
on December 1st, I mailed 25 Christmas cards from Beirut to a variety of destinations in Europe and North America. I had stuck the correct amount of stamps on the envelopes (according to your postal worker), and dropped them into a yellow Liban Post mail box at the end of Hamra, right near the crossing of Sadat street.
Now that I have arrived in Holland, I am surprised to learn that I seem to have arrived before my Christmas cards. My question is the following: “Do you empty that mailbox regularly?”
Best regards,
Sietske in Beirut


December 23, 2009

Regarding; Mail Still Not Arriving

Dear Sirs,
I sent you a mail regarding mail not arriving. You mentioned that you would get back to me within 2 working days. We are now 3 working days further, and I have not yet received a reply. Christmas is after tomorrow, and so there will be no mail delivery after tomorrow. I am pretty sure now that my 25 Christmas cards will not arrive in time.
Best regards,
Sietske in Beirut

December 24, 2009

Regarding; No Mail Yet?

Dear Sirs,
Tomorrow is Christmas. I just got the last mail delivery in before Christmas, but my Christmas card was not among it. Do you actually check your inbox? You have not replied to either of my mails.
Best regards,
Sietske in Beirut

Reply from LibanPost: Your message has been sent successfully.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas . .

... everywhere you go.Sietske in Beirut will be Sietske in Holland for Christmas. It's been about 17 years since I have spent a Christmas back home. And it seems I fell with my nose in the butter (Dutch expression), because it is going to be the first white Christmas in years.

And Rudolf is getting ready too.

Rain

River

It rained yesterday. When it rains in this town, it pours. To the extent that if you’re stuck in traffic and the downpour begins, you’ll be stuck for the next hour. And did it RAIN on Saturday! 41.4 mm of water fell, according to this web site. I don’t know if that is a lot, but it felt like a lot.

Ashrafiya

I had to drop off my daughter in Ashrafiya for a birthday party, and I was not driving over the road, but rather in a river. In this weather it is hard to find a parking spot in town, and beggars can’t be choosers, so when I found one, in running water, 10 cm deep, I had no option. Once parked, I debated it for a while, but had no choice but to get out of that car and into the river. Water ran left, right, and under the car. I was soaked up to my knees when I got to the party.

Three (half) Dutch girls under the rain in Beirut

I didn’t take any picture of the rising waters, but +961 did. And what he is showing, is really not that unusual. The situation has improved in my neighborhood, but I remember times when you couldn’t cross the street after a shower, because the water would lap over the sidewalk. And do you guys still remember the times when the Corniche would flood? You’d have water up to your car door, and you’d have to slalom your way around stalled cars (usually service drivers in their Mercedes cars). You had to be really careful, because there were lots of manhole covers missing, and the chances that you’d drive into a big hole were real. And if you drove to fast, your own car would stall too, so the trick was to drive steady, leaving a speedboat trail of waves behind you.

Ah, nostalgia.

Political posters on the wall

I like rain, for reasons that may be related to the fact that I am Dutch. And although one of the reasons to leave Holland was definitely weather-related, rains reminds me of my home. I have a number of Northern European friends/colleagues, and they all seem to perk up (temporarily) when it rains. Of course, after one day of rain we’ve been reminded enough again, and wish it would stop raining. And indeed, the Sunday started out beautifully sunny.

Martyr's Square, under the rain and in Christmas lights

On Spitting Images & Sjef van Oekel

This is a post only the Dutch will understand.

As I walk into the house, I see my husband reading something on his laptop about a Dutch comedian/actor, Sjef van Oekel (picture on the left). If my husband is known for anything, it is definitely not for his interest in the Dutch culture or anything related to it (except in me, of course).
It was even in Arabic! Now why would Sjef van Oekel, a fictitious character known for his rather sleazy yet hilarious personality, appear in an Arabic newspaper? And so I ask. It turns out this man (on the right) is not Sjef van Oekel, but the former Lebanese deputy Prime Minister, Abu-Jamra. Spitting image, no? I can just imagine the guy singing "You're very welcome to waldo-la-la."

We probably all have a spitting image walking around somewhere. I just hope mine isn't of the reputation of Sjef van Oekel.

Beirut Marathon

Today was the annual Beirut Marathon. I was supposed to run the 10 K, but forgot to sign up. Yep. As the non-participation greatly impaired my chances to win, I figured I might as well not run at all. The weather was pretty miserable too. Nevertheless, it seems some 30,000 people participated. My son ran too, and we went to cheer him along
It seems the Prime Minister and the president also ran the 10K, but I saw neither one of them. The Ethiopians won both the men and the women’s title.

Sinterklaas in Beirut

The first loot is in.
Sinterklaas (the Dutch Santa Claus, which is celebrated December 5th, and on which the American Santa Claus is based) and his ‘zwarte pieten’ just passed by the little Dutch children in Beirut to drop off a load of gifts before he travels to Holland tonight where it is the traditional ‘Pakjesavond’ (gift-exchange evening). Sinterklaas with one of his helpers on the left (Do I detect Julia under the black paint?), and three little Dutchies on the right. The cross on the guy’s mitre seems to be a bit of an issue in the multi-cultural society of Holland. Some people feel that this might not appeal to Dutch children with an islamic background. I know; we Dutch can be immensely silly sometimes.

The annual visit of Sinterklaas to Beirut is a big event for the Dutch community. The children like it because they get to see Sinterklaas, a person of magical and mystical stature. The gift, of course, helps a lot as well. The Dutch ladies like it because this is the official start of the mulled wine season, and there’s some nostalgia in it as well.

Mind you, some of us are getting old enough to get even nostalgic over these Beirut visits of Sinterklaas. Kids that we remember as little toddlers crawling in between the wrapping paper are now taller than us, ask us whether we’ve seen their new car outside and drive us around instead of us them (are you following my grammatical incorrectness?). And little girls that used to cry before Sinterklaas have now become the Sint's politically incorrect black helpers. Time sure flies.

And now it is time to get ready for the next guy; Santa Claus.

She still believes in Sinterklaas. He doesn't; the boy is taller than Sinterklaas, but he knows that if he shows up, he's got to get a present.

Zen & Art of Dealing with Government Institutions

I’ve been quite proud of my Zen-like disposition today.

This morning I was supposed to pick up 1) my long-awaited son’s Arabic Exemption paper (Courtesy of the Ministry of Education), 2) the Arabic equivalency of my Dutch BA (Courtesy of the Ministry of Education) and 3) renew the work permit of my housekeeper (Courtesy of the Ministry of Labor).

Needless to say I returned home empty-handed. Totally empty-handed!

The Arabic exemption paper can only be picked up Monday through Thursday. “It clearly states on the paper,” said the lady on the 2nd floor of the Ministry of Education. Well, that’s in Arabic, but I only have to blame myself.

The equivalency paper could not be processed because the fax number I had given of my Dutch university was not working. That is a bit of a story as well. The head of the Exams Committee of my university had to take a stroll through the admin building in order to find a fax machine. “You guys are still using fax machines?” he asked me in surprise, when I asked him for a fax number. But apparently the one he gave me was no longer in order, and now we will try it through e-mail. “But then you have to wait for the secretary of the boss to come back,” says the lady of the Equivalency Desk. “The boss can do the fax himself, but for e-mail he needs the secretary.” Need I say more?

And the work papers? “Oh, you have to go through Liban Post,” answered the gentleman at the desk of the Ministry of Labor when I asked him how to go about renewing her work permit. LibanPost, eh? Well sure, why not. However, they close at 1:00, and so I went home.

At no point in time did I raise my voice, sigh, roll my eyes or be impolite in some other non-verbal way. You should have seen me; I was Zen aaaaaaaaall over!

This picture is unrelated to this post. I took it some time ago in Bourj Abu-Haidar, a neighborhood wedged in somewhere between Mar Elias and another neighborhood which name escapes me now. It is a home-made solution to someone in that alley that is obviously a wheelchair occupant.