Opportunities

And suddenly it has been five months since I’m here. The record on my blog isn’t particularly great. Yes, I’ve been procrastinating. Between flying home for a couple of days, receiving yet another bunch of visitors, re-training my lazy fingers (and arms) to get back to a reasonably good level of playing the violin and not to forget the constant challenge of understanding the people around me (i.e. improving my Arabic), I just couldn’t find (didn’t want to maybe) the time to write on my blog. Yes, it was also due to some frustration related to my job some of you might be aware of. I’m not made for the UN. At least not the sitting-in-the-office-compiling-reports-dreaming-of-a-better-world-struggling-with bureaucracy-issues UN. Not me. So I just shifted my entire attention away from work to my hobbies. Not ideal, if you ask me – especially given that I moved here because of the job. But it keeps me entertained. I was asked two days ago whether I wanted to participate in a concert next week – paid. Of course, I said. Why not? That I will have to master the programme within 5 (working) days is something to consider on the side. The rehearsal was (typically Lebanese) in Arabic/French/English – a fact I only realised when the American sitting next to me asked me where we were playing, since she didn’t understand. I know, we Swiss are kind of language-arrogant, but then, if you live in the region for more than 5 years, it is, in my opinion, arrogant if you don’t speak the local language. Which brings me to my (almost favourite point): the language issue. It is often hard to fight the urge of Lebanese people to reply to you in English or French if they notice that you’re not from here. I have actually managed to create the slightly odd situation where I was speaking Arabic and the taxi driver/shop keeper was replying in (often broken) French or English. Great. Although recently, I was asked whether I was Jordanian or Egyptian because of my (obviously not Lebanese) accent. I will go with Jordanian, but Egyptian?!?

The last couple of weeks have given me plenty of time to explore a bit more thoroughly the country and its culture. I have tried to read the mandatory literature on Lebanon, but yes, I admit, I gave up half way. Not because of lack of interest, but to read about the massacres in Sabra and Shatila or the atrocities committed during the civil war just doesn’t go well with an ice cream and the principle of relaxation on weekends – or before going to bed for that matter. Also, it is difficult to blend in with Beirutis (my ultimate goal, obviously) in the local pool scene when you carry around a book with you called “Killing Mister Lebanon”. But then I might lack some other, more visual, characteristics as well that clearly distinguish me from la Beyrouthienne. In case you haven’t guessed (or you are simply unaware of local stereotypes), let me introduce you to Miss Lebanon at the St. George Yacht Club. Entrance to the (salt-water) swimming pools and greenish space (it’s 35°C here so give the grass a break) is 22 Dollars (not even a towel is included). During one of my visits, I spotted the one (honestly, I couldn’t stop staring): a barbie-ish looking beauty (everything is relative) with a pink (yes) swim suit. Her breasts were surprisingly not too big, but still showed some signs of external help as did her (perfectly formed) lips. Her hair looked liked out of a catalogue: very dark and shiny and curly... A girl’s (ahem, sorry, man’s) dream. Only when she passed by my humble self could I see the cellulite on her thighs... There’s a joke in Beirut about the Riviera – a more posh swimming pool where the entire goal is to be seen and to achieve the ultimate orangie-brownish skin colour with the help of all sorts of oils – saying that no one will ever drown there because of all the silicone. I forgot to tell you that the barbie lady at St. George was later joined by her friend whose surgeon was quite obviously not a great fan of “natural”. She will definitely never drown.

But I also ventured to see another side of Lebanon: I visited the Hezbollah Museum. Yes, to all you astonished people: Hezbollah has built a quite nice museum in the southern hills, offering a wide range of sights, including a (propaganda) movie showing how Hezbollah is destroying Lebanon’s southern neighbour, captured tanks, cars and ammunition of the “Zionist Entity”, tunnels where the heroic warriors fought for the liberation of their country as well as many spots where you could admire the different tasks and activities of Hezbollah fighters. Really quite interesting. A little problematic if you consider that many visitors are not all too critical minds. The donations boxes (like the ones you have at the entrance of churches) were the forms of bullets – very original if you ask me. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if I knew the location of one of the first targets the sworn enemy chooses to hit in a future crisis.

Another one of my “field trips” brought me to one of the refugee camps in Beirut. The Communication Group of the UN had organised this outing to show the members of the group the living conditions of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. Contrary to most of the others participants, I had already been to one of the camps so this wasn’t “news” to me. I didn’t particularly like the nature of the trip: it felt like a tourist group, going to see poor people and stagger around in their homes while taking pictures of the ah-so-bad situation only to leave again, feeling ... well, what? Better? Enlightened? More appreciative of our own living situation? I never really know how to deal with such confrontations. The easiest solution (although not the most satisfying) probably being just going back to my “normal” – not for Lebanese standards – life.

Anyway, my muse has ungracefully left my side and internet is – once again – not particularly cooperative. As my radio training instructs me: over and out.