The only people on the beach: Dog owners and Dutch (is there a connection?)

It’s an odd contrast; last week I was up in the snow, this week I am at the beach. And I didn’t even have to travel for that; all in one country. But this is a land of contrasts, so it fits right in. 

The beach isn't ready yet; the boardwalks haven't been painted yet

A land of controversy indeed. Teachers strike during the week, but then force parents to send in their kids on Saturday to ‘make up’ for the missed days. Make up? Then what’s the point of the strike?

You cannot marry someone from another religion and keep your own religion & your rights at the same time; you’d both have to renounce your own religion first, and if you want to vote for members of parliament of a different religion then yours, you better become a jew; they’re the only ones allowed to.  But then again, we hardly have any jews left, we made sure of that, because we are so narrow-minded when it comes to other religions. 

My son ‘identifies’ himself with a certain sect in this country, and I am thinking ‘you twit, you've never set a foot in a mosque, the only time you've been to church was for a funeral, you don’t know how to pray in either religion; how can you identify yourself with any sect at all?' 

But I cannot blame him completely, because when a friend’s grandfather died, and he asked if he could come for the condolences, he was told, “Well, you might not feel at ease, our condolences are done the greek-orthodox way.” And I am thinking, 'well, that message is clear enough.'  

Picnic on the beach

How come this young generation, that did not live through a civil war, with atrocities played out on both sides, is more fanatic than my generation? 

We had this discussion at work today. I work with a very mixed group of people; all Lebanese backgrounds and religions are represented, and they are my generation. 

Their explanation was that during the war, they lived divided (most of the time). Christians lived with christians, muslims with muslims (we did not have that sunni-shia divide then), and one did not mix. But then when the war ended, and the dividing lines (such as the Green Line) slowly disappeared, they suddenly saw the ‘others’ and were mainly surprised with the fact that the ‘others’ were not that different at all. 

“It was an eye-opener,” said one colleague.

Friends

The current generation can grow up with one other, not divided. Yet it seems they choose not to. So what is it that sets the tone for this generation? What makes them decide to be part of one, and not of a whole (country)? It is puzzling to me. 

Good Morning, Sunshine

I wake up to a lovely sun rise; summer is in time. And while the city is still asleep, I see we have our very first visitors of the day.

 

Gooooood Mooooorningggg Beeeiiiirruuuuuuuuttttttt!!!!

Nobody circles Beirut like the Israelis do; always in pairs. UN security council resolution 1701, passed following the 2006 Israel-Lebanon war, forbids Israeli planes from flying over Lebanon. But what is a UN security council resolution to an Israeli? They violate Lebanese space on an almost daily basis. ‘Andrea Tenenti, a spokesman for the UN forces in Lebanon, Unifil, confirmed that Israeli forces had continued to violate Lebanese airspace, but said this was routine.’ (source) And after all, aren’t we terrorists? So it’s okay.

Really Really Bad?

My daughter’s field trip got cancelled. Much to her chagrin, as she had packed her bags already a week in advance. “Due to the current situation in Lebanon and the location of our destination, it has been decided that it will be best not to take the students,” the note from school reads.

It's been raining in Beirut

“Due to the current situation?” I ask my hubbie, “What situation?” Deng, I am thinking, I should listen to the news more often.

“The situation is bad, Siets,” he replies.

“Really bad? Did anything happen?”

“Well, the situation is not very good. It’s bad.”

“So nothing happened?”

“Well, not specifically, but the situation is really bad.”

“You said that two month ago as well.”

“Yes, but now is worse. It is really really bad.”

Really bad? Like really really bad, because it was already really bad two months ago, and then it was worse than two months before that, when you said it was really really bad, and that time was also worse than the time before that, I am thinking. He’s been saying the situation is bad since 2005, and it’s gotten increasingly bad ever since, so I am wondering, how much more ‘really bad’ can we go?

Still raining . . . 

I don’t have time for this nonsense. Life is infinitely brighter when you do not watch the news.

A Lesson for Future Brides (in Lebanon)

I spent the weekend in the Cedars. 

The ski slope in the Cedars (with the emphasis on 'THE'). The forest is in the distance, right side.

For those unfamiliar with Lebanon, the Cedars is a place up way up north , in the mountains, where the last remaining bits of the original cedar forest can be found; a forest that apparently once blanketed all the upper regions of Lebanon. 

‘Once’ is a loooong time ago; cedar wood was already in high demand way back when the Egyptian pharaohs build their temples in the Nile Valley, and when King Salomon constructed his temple in Jerusalem. Heck, even Gilgamesh, some 7,000 years ago, knew where to get his wood. As such, 'forest' is only a relative concept;  there are some 300 trees left in this particular spot.

I'm zooming in on the forest

A friend of mine, new to the country, recounted her visit to the forest for the first time. All the way, from Beirut to the Cedars, and that’s some 120 kilometer, she was hearing about this ‘forest’. And coming from Holland, a forest is defined as a vast region full of trees. And so, after a very long drive over little narrow country roads that slowly snake their way up, she turns around this corner and sees this . . . . this park filled with some trees. “I came all the way for this?” she remembers saying. 

And it is true, if you want to see an impressive Cedar forest, the Barouk one is a bigger one, and the one near Hadeth el Jibbe more authentic. But still, the Cedar forest in the north is a regular stop for tourists.

And here it is. Quite impressive in the snow.

And in winter you go there to ski. ‘Skiing’ is also a relative term up there, it seems. Lifts open en slopes get groomed only if there are enough people to make it profitable for the family operating the hill (yes, it is only one hill), and if they feel like it. As such, opening and closing times are changeable, and availability of lifts and slopes equally unpredictable. You’d think at least the prices of their services would be competitive, but no, that is not the case either. 

A Dutch/Lebanese melange with some hints from Asia as well

This could be a post about how not to run a ski resort, but this rather homely style of running a business make the place a little rustic and endearing, and so we’ll keep it as it.

Instead, I’d like to talk about the self-assessment of Lebanese men. 

I was with a group of Dutch/Lebanese couples. In this case, most of the Dutch are women, and the men Lebanese. Any married woman can tell you that getting married is easy; it’s staying married that is the tricky part. Most definitely when it concerns a Lebanese man, as the cultural differences are not insignificant.

Some of the offspring of Lebanese/Dutch connections, with some real Dutch in there too, and hints of Tunisia and Vietnam (someone at work today called the Dutch 'swamp Germans'  I thought that was quite funny) 

Now most of us have managed to circumvent the major problems, and have arrived at a relatively satisfying status-quo.

One of us, however, is about to embark on this journey; She is going to marry a Lebanese man. Her own dad was Lebanese, so she is not totally unfamiliar with the species, but still, what is in store for her? What advise could we give her? What does it take to make it work? This particular conversation generated such incredible laughter and noise level that the other hotel guests, one by one, vacated the premises. Lebanese men – for the uninitiated – come with a manual thicker than what you get when you buy a 3D flat-screen TV.

Ah, and finally, the patient Dutch ladies. Samaritans we are :) 

But the interesting part came when the (Lebanese) men got their turn. 

And there were two things they brought up, I thought were of particular interest. 

The first one was that each and every one of them said that (even after being married to a Dutch woman, go figure!) they would never ever marry Lebanese women, for ‘they could not be trusted.’ “Sly bitches,” was the term one of them used, if I remember correctly. (Sorry ladies, I am just quoting.)  

Why Samaritans, you ask? Ah, if only you knew the story behind these feet . . . . 

And the second interesting bit of advice they gave the future bride was, “Don’t let him walk all over you.”  Their general message was, be strong, stay independent, don’t be his door mat, and show him right from day one that you cannot be taken for granted, otherwise he will take advantage of you, and treat you like you are his maid. What an insightful self-assessment that was!

When in the snow, build a snow man

The bride-to-be thought it all sounded rather negative. Of course, she is still madly in love and her hubbie-to-be is still the knight in shining armor, and she’s talking to a bunch of old-timers; we’ve each clocked some 20 years or more in marital positions.  And so this mixed Lebanese/Dutch crowd of pros smiled at her endearingly, and said in unison: "We’ll talk in a few years time.” 

The result

This dude of hers is so not going to thank us for this! And we had a good time. With our Lebanese counterparts. Despite? Or thanks to? I leave that up to you to decide . . . . ;)  But the mix sure makes for beautiful kids. If I may say so myself.

And that's me (thankfully unrecognizable), stolen from Mai (thank you Mai) 

Today is Just Perfect

When life’s too busy, I get stressed. When it’s too slow, I get bored. Today is just perfect.

 

Beirut; 6:35 AM this morning (If you click on it I think it gets larger. Maybe)

 Yesterday I had planned to go skiing with my daughter. The weather had been absolutely gorgeous this week. Clear and sunny skies, almost T-shirt like temperatures, and if it continues this way, that will be an early demise of our already short ski-season. She is not very compliant on her own when it comes to skiing, but does much better with a particular friend.

And so the friend comes along.

I get a call from a former classmate of hers. She is in town: “Can I come and play?” No, but you can come along and ski with us.

My husband’s cousin also shows up in town. We tell her: “Why don’t you come along and spend the day up in the sun and snow?”

A nephew calls: “Do you have a place for me in the car? I’m going boarding with some friends.”

And just as we get in the car, my daughter announces: “Oh, I told so and so to come with us as well.”
 

On the parking lot in Feraya, I spot my son. I haven't seen that guy since Thursday night. Isn't he supposed to go to school at some point in time? Maybe he can lighten my load on the way down, and take the nephew?
"No mom, I got 6 people already." I know the kind of 'people' he transports; they’re all huge and clunky teenagers with 2 meter-long boards.  

And while my daughter pipes in my ear that she forgot her ski-jacket at home, I get a phone call from a friend who says: “You didn’t forget about dinner tonight, right?” Right.

 

Daughter & company. The snow is melting really fast now.  

 

And so today, I am planning absolutely nothing! I am going to sit on my balcony and do nothing. Let’s see how long I can sit there and do nothing.

Let’s see what will pop up. Hmmmm, I think the balcony table needs a new layer of oil. I see there’s a screw missing on one of the chairs. Oh, that outdoor light doesn’t work.

Let me get my tools . . . .

Snoverdose

My son (Proud mom ) doing a front flip



At the risk of snoverdosing you, some more pictures of the snow. A Dutch friend of mine commented on the fact that we seem to lead a jet set life here; and for a moment, I felt embarrassed. The Dutch are an intrinsically Calvinistic society, and enjoying anything beyond the bare basic in life is a basically a sin. 



The slopes are dominated by what we call ‘Hangjongeren’ in Holland (hat tip to Noor); your basic slope bums. They hang around in packs, lay on the snow near the lift and wait for all their Snowboard Republic Buddies to reach the top, and then descend – off piste – in large groups.

But then I thought about walking the 12 flights of stairs because of a power outage, one week without hot showers because of a storm, an internet bill that should buy me a voyage into space, but an internet speed that brings me back to the stone age, mail that never gets here, potholes, no internet banking and I could go on and on, so I feel we compensate the good bits with enough hardship. I haven’t even brought strikes, demonstrations, burning tires, explosions and the occasional bombings into the equation. Granted, we haven’t been bombed for a while in Beirut. But all in all, the good is being outweighed by the bad; we lead balanced lives.

Ms. R, just as she is about to crash

But back to the snow. This has been by far the best ski season ever. Yesterday was an awesome day for skiing; sunny skies, no wind, fresh powder snow, and no lines. Where is everyone?

 

One of my son's skiing buddies

As the roads in town get more and more congested, the slopes get quieter by the day. I assume it is related to the current economic situation. I can’t say I regret that part. I remember years that you’d be stuck in a 30 kilometer long traffic jam up to Faraya. Or even worse, you’d be stuck in that very last 100 meters of the traffic jam - you could see all those people going up in the chair lift - and you just stood there in front of the parking lot, going nowhere, because some idiot up ahead tried to pass the line and blocked all traffic. 



Lovely end of the day; descending and seeing the lights of Beirut in the distance.

But all that seems to be of the past. Empty roads, empty slopes. I was discussing with a friend the ability to predict the future in the country. Everyone is saying that there is trouble up ahead, and she recounted this story how one summer her mom was supposed to fly in. She had, through certain channels, a direct line to the Syrian government through the head of the Syrian Secret Service in Lebanon. “Don’t bring in your mom this summer,” she was told, by the head itself, “because Lebanon will no longer exist in summer.“  Oh lo and behold, that was a scary message. Mom did not visit that summer. And what happened that summer? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

But I am off track again. The snow was fantastic. We got around the fact that if Ahmad el-Assir wants to visit the slopes of Ferarya he can, and even Saad el-Hariri thinks civil marriage is a go. What more can one ask for?