Turtles in Action

Here is some good, but probably not very scientifically supported, news. 

We are a household with animals. Granted, a difficult task in Beirut but we try our best. Both hubbie and I come from families that always had animal(s) in the house, and so we pass this on. Dogs, cats, rabbits, squirrels, hamsters, fish, birds, stick insects, you name it, we've had (or have) them.

   

As a comparison; this is how big they are going to get

And for a strange reason, we seem to come into a lot of land turtles (tortoises). My daughter once got one for a birthday, and when that news got around, everyone with a turtle seemed to somehow feel free to dump theirs off at our house. It was either as a gift, or they were travelling for the summer, or moving out of the country, but whatever the reason, we got more and more turtles.

So many in fact, that it was no longer feasible to keep them in Beirut. We created a type of enclosure at our mountain house, where they (by now some 9 turtles) could roam freely. This news attracted even more turtles, and somehow we ended up with 18!

It must be a Dutch thing, because a Dutch friend of mine, way down south in Nabatiyah, has some 40+ turtles in her garden. She has a large olive orchard, and every year, when they plow in between the trees, she walks in front of the tractor, and picks up all the tortoises that’s she sees, otherwise they will plow right over them, and places them in the back yard where they are safe.  One summer, she got a white permanent marker, and started numbering them. She was at 40-something, when the first rain of the fall brought an end to that project; the permanent marker turned out not to be that permanent.

These land turtles, called Mediterranean Spur Thighed Tortoise, or Greek Tortoises ( Testudo graeca)   and indigenous to the region and – according to the IUCN, the International Union for Nature and Conservation –their population borders on the vulnerable (which is one step before endangered). Not surprising, as a massive building spur the past 30 years had decimated their habitat drastically.

But my 18 turtles have been very busy this year. They have been mating like crazy. Females can lay between 3 to 5 eggs, and although I have no idea how many females there are, I have seen at least two turtles laying eggs.

And they are hatching. Last week, 7 puny little turtles suddenly were roaming around the garden, and I know of at least one stash that should be hatching this month as well. Pretty soon I will be having so many turtles that I can start repopulating the neighborhood with turtles again, and get them out of the vulnerable zone.

Perspective

We start with a run through Rouche rock. The light at 5 is still stark

The heat just won’t abate. The AC’s are still running full force IN MY HOUSE, but they can barely blow a dent into the humidity, even at night. We don’t have 24/7 electricity, some 20 AFTER the civil war, I tell you, in Syria they have more electricity than we do, go figure. The government does not provide water around the clock either. I’ve got to buy extra water and electricity, so I’ve got a double amenity bill. We’ve got a one million plus Syrian refugees in the country that can barely deal with its own people, the roads are perpetually clogged, it’s always noisy and crowded and getting from one part of town to another is such a feat, most people don’t even attempt it anymore. Well, at least I don’t.

Fishing boats in the heart of town

And then there is the heat!

Did I mention the heat already?  

I secretly envy friends in Holland that report 16 degrees Celcius.

It's all high-rise along the coast until . . . 

. . .  you get to the suburbs. These once were beaches, back n the 70's. Now they house refugees from an era well before the Syrians. Kurds and Palestinians that fled from Tell el Zaatar initially settled here. Now it is a mix of all.  

These inhabitants, near Beirut Airport, tired of the same old stuff, added some color to their houses.

And then. . .

after a long day at work, I get a message if I feel like going out at sea. 

Do I feel like going on a boat, out at sea?

Are you kidding?

I already hailed a service to get me to the port.

Some jet skiers come check us out

And at sea it is quiet and empty and cool. There is a breeze, and nothing pollutes my horizon, except for small fishing boats.

And I sail along the coast, cast in a soft purple haze, drive under Rouche rock, skinny dip and watch the sun set in the sea. When I sail back into port, dusk has set in, and the lights of the boulevards and buildings make this place all romantic and glamorous again.

skinny dipping (got to hold on to the buoy so the boat does not float away without us)

Purple haze

Dusk sets in

Sun set

And then . . . .

when you see Beirut in a different light, it all changes. 

I kind of like this place again.

It's all about perspective.

Back into the port

and home we go. 

An interesting read on Lebanon and perspective can be found here. The author is half Dutch, quite proud of that (and half Lebanese too) 

Ministry of Tourism & Tickets

My son was in town with his girlfriend this summer, and as she is a ‘newby’ to Lebanon, we had to do the touristic circuit. It doesn’t bother me, I love getting on the road, and Baalbeck never fails to impress me. I did notice something funny though.

Our first stop was at the temple of Niha. Niha is probably my favorite, because every time I get there, I am the only one. It’s like you have a private temple, all to yourself. And there are another two in that neighborhood, further into the mountains, in rather poor state, that are not even guarded.

 The man at the entrance let us in.

“It’s for free,” he said.

What? Is it a free day today? I asked.

“No, we do not have tickets anymore.”

He had run out of tickets. I kid you not.

And although I admire his honesty, how hard is it for a Ministry of Tourism to get the guy some ticket booklets?

Very hard, it seems.

Because the next stop was Baalbeck. This temple, which would attract thousands and thousands of visitors a day if it were in a more popular setting, such as Europe, asks and entrance fee of only 10,000 LBP (5,50 euros) for a Lebanese and 15,000 LBP (about 8 euros) for foreigners.

But instead of 3, we got 7 tickets. 

The confusion was cleared up when the man explained, 

“15,000 is 3 x 5,000, and 10,000 is 2 x 5,000. You see, the tickets of 10,000 and 15,000 are finished. I only have the 5,000 left.”

Why you would have booklets of 5000 when the going rate is 10,000 and 15,000 is another story. Besides, can’t they get a simple machine that prints them on the spot? Is there are a reason why the admission process needs to be as archaic as the temple itself?

And when we got to Anjar, world’s first shopping mall.  There they had run out of tickets of 6,000 LBP, and so we got 2 of 3,000 LBP. Seriously now. 

It seems that while the world is going forward, we’re not even standing still. We’re moving backwards rapidly.

There was a time when I had high hopes for this country.

First Days of September

A little dramatic editing, but so is the mood

September. A magical month. The closure of the summer, yet another summer (when you are my age, you start deploring the passing of time), the first hints of fall.

For those not familiar with Lebanon, you should visit this place in fall. Preferably late fall. Best time of the year. The light, the temperature, it’s all good.

Although the temperature is still not very cooperative at the moment. It’s still awfully hot, and this week promises to be even hotter. But hey, rather hot than in a hurricane.

The end of summer heralds departure.

My son and his girlfriend left at the end of August, back to their universities abroad. They were not the only ones leaving. You may have read people needed some four hours at Beirut Airport to get to their gates; the lines were massive (and chaotic, as usual). I have decided that from now on I will travel by train or by boat. Being in Lebanon, I guess I am not going anywhere.

I am now at the point where my parents once were; saying bye to their kids at airport parking lots. 

The last teenager in my house started high school this week. High school already? I remember I was taking the ‘first day of school’ picture when she was 3! Still remember what she wore. Odd that I can remember that so vividly, yet am clueless as to where I put my phone, my glasses and my car keys.

Another 4 years and she will leave Lebanon for college. Then I will have joined the legion of ‘childless’ parents who have to travel abroad to visit their children. 

Her school week was cut short due to an unscheduled day of mourning after the remains of 9 soldiers, executed by Daesh (ISIS) back in 2014, were identified last week. A reminder that things are from from normal in this place, and probably never will be.

The nine were executed after just about everyone involved in their release made one mistake after the other, and the whole thing was basically bungled. So while on the one hand school children had a field day, nine mothers had the worst day of their lives. Or probably just another very bad day, among many others.

This one made me laugh; A piece of wood while paving the road? Just go right over it. It must have been there for quite some time.

Fits right in

It used to be that I was surrounded by kids every weekend. They were young kids, the children of friends and family, and they were young enough that they’d follow us in whatever we planned. Mountain hikes, picnics on the beach, ski weekends, bike rides along the boulevard, you name it, we came with kids in tow.  Trailing kids, so to speak. Pretty soon, I can call myself a trailing parent.

Now that they’ve gotten older, they don’t buy into my weekend plans anymore: they have more interesting things to do. To get my daughter up to the mountains for the weekend, I have to do some serious bribing and entertainment planning. Plans with friends involve fewer and fewer children. I kind have forgotten how it was before our kids, but I guess I will have to get the hang of it again. 

Wow. September gets you in a reflective mood.

By the time it gets October, I’ll be back in a more creative mood :) 

Counting Sheep

The weather shows no sign of cooling off yet. Even up in the mountains it is still dry and hot.

I’ll have to get back in blogging mode. If not, this blog will die a slow death.

It’s the Eid right now, Eid el-Adha, the biggest muslim feast in Lebanon. It’s big, because the druze community celebrate this one as well (unlike Eid el-Fitr, which takes place after the Ramadan, and which is only celebrated by the muslims.)

During this Feast of the Sacrifice, muslims celebrate the fact that Abraham (Ibrahim) was willing to sacrifice his son Ismael for God. It’s a little tricky, this story, because apparently God did not think he was going to go through with it, but when Abraham actually went along with it, he thought that maybe this was taking it a bit too far, and quickly replaced the child for a goat.

What can be learned from this story is unclear to me, but the tradition is that during this feast you (if you are a muslim, that is) should slaughter a goat. Or a sheep.

And so around this time of year, you will find that sheep vendors have set up shop around town or along main highways, so you can pick up your sheep. A Dutch newspaper even had a photo story on how these animals get transported.

Not everyone does this, of course, because in the old days, when freezers and fridges did not exist, this could cause serious issues. What do you do with all that meat? A solution was found; you only get to keep a third. One third is supposed to be given to friends and family, and the last third should be given to the poor. I am not sure how rigid people adhere to these rules these days, but that’s the tradition.

One of the neighbors in the village actually bought a sheep. He must have a really big freezer, because he did not buy one, he bought three! And these sheep were tied up last Thursday, at the door of his house, awaiting their impending faith. They bleated through much of the night, but when you are in a village in the mountains, you expect to hear nature.

What can I say? They chase loose sheep.

But somehow, during the night, and not liking what was in store for them, two of them managed to escape. Sheep are not known for their great intelligence, they do not wander off, so it was not a problem. The sheep sort of ambled around, and were grazing near my house.

We were not aware of this, however, and so when hubbie let out the dogs very early that morning, it was a field day for them. Loose sheep in the paddock! They chase sheep for a living.

And off they went.

By the time we could get our dogs back in line, the two sheep were nowhere to be seen. They had scattered in two different directions; one uphill into the forest, the other one downhill into the valley. The dogs barked a little at the one still attached, but as it was not running, there was no fun in it, and they came back.

When the neighbor came out, he looked at his one remaining sheep. WTF?

Neighbors were quick to help out that our dogs had chased the other two away. “Where are my two sheep?” he phoned.

Where are your sheep? Well, one is on top of the mountain, and the other one is in the valley. I had to laugh at this. Seriously? Ever tried to catch a loose sheep?

When we got back from the dog walk, the janitor was telling with great gusto how the neighbor had been running all the over the hills and forests trying to get his sheep back. Sheep may be stupid, but they don’t like to get caught. I have never heard this janitor crack so much as a smile, and so I was much amused when he grinned “Hahahaha, he’s still running after the other one.”

Not much happening otherwise. We will descend down to Beirut next week, as schools are about to starts. Summer is over.