Bittersweet Symphony
2004-05-05 at 8:25 p.m.
Here
You know how you always imagine how something or someone is going to be, and it's never like you thought it would be, and even though you know it won't be like you imagine it will be, you still imagine how it will be? Yeah. Lebanon is not what I expected it to be. It's way way way way WAY better! I want to stay here, except I miss my husband and I know he misses Aidan.I didn't understand my husband until I came here. This city is alive. Where I live, everyone stays in their house. You go to work, you come home, you go inside. Maybe one balcony out of ten has some people standing in it. There are so many people here, in the city. We live in a sort of suburb of Tyre, it's 10 minutes away. They had to sell the house (I say house, it's like an apartment, but you buy it. We don't have that in Las Vegas, maybe New York ya aynee) where Wael grew up to get money. I wish they still lived there. It's right on the edge of the busiest part of town and directly across the street from the beach. Tyre is on a bay of the Mediterranean and it is so beautiful. Some parts of the city are dirty, but mostly not. I can't wait to see the ruins, we drove by some today, but my father in law wants to come with us. He's sick, you know, taking chemotherapy, and he sleeps a lot. He doesn't speak English and I can't understand his Arabic accent, it's too thick. I've always been amazed at how wonderful a dad my husband is, but now I understand because his dad is just like him. He sounds just like him when he calls to Aidan. And it's not just that he's treating Aidan good because we just got here because he acts the same way with his three year old Hussam. I wish now we had named Aidan after him, kids in school be damned (his name is Hussein). When we found out that we were having a boy, my husband said, "Let's name him Hussein," and I said, "No!" He failed to mention that it is tradition to name the first grandson after his grandfather. He thinks he told me before, but he didn't. I realize I'm babbling, I can't help it. My mom is so crazy. She said, "Don't go for three months. Two weeks is enough. You won't like it." Now, I want to go home for three months and then come back again. There is so much to do. All the time we have to visit someone, or they are visiting us. We've only been here two days, ya aynee, maybe it will slow down later. I don't want to offend people, it is so hard to remember so many names, and all Arabic. It's much easier for a person to remember names from their own ethnic group. Today I met a boy who is a strict Muslim and I touched his hand to shake it and went to kiss him, (three times, from cheek to cheek). I was so embarrassed, but he was so nice and he said it was OK. You can't touch them, you know. They don't touch women outside their family. Most of the men I've met, I kiss, but some no. The only problem is that instead of getting better at my Arabic, my husband's family is getting better at their English because I am too shy to say a word if I'm not apsolutely sure of how to say it. I've always been shy of doing things I don't know well in front of other people. It's an annoying personality trait.
It's strange, you know, I remember talking to the mother of my husband's cousin's wife (henceforth known as Fatina), and she would stop and think of the right word in English, and I now I am doing that when I talk to people. It's the other side.
My husband's family is the most loving family I have ever met. I was right about Ali. You might like, have affection for, or respect a lot of people, but there aren't many people who command your instant affection and devotion, as soon as you see their smile. (Ali is 14) Dani is always smiling and he loves Aidan so much (they all do). His hand is lame and a little deformed and therefore he can't do a lot of manual labor (although he went to Africa once and did some and the man he was working for, his cousin, didn't pay him one cent, it's so horrible. For nine months he worked. He trusted him because it was his cousin). My English is getting horrible because I am trying to talk simply to be understood. Last night I talked to my dad and I couldn't get out of speaking with an accent and bad grammer. Anyway, Dani, we had to go back to Beirut yesterday to pick up my late baggage (all three of them) and we left Aidan with my mother in law. She called to tell us that we should hurry because he was crying a lot and Dani started driving fast and about 10 minutes later he told me, "I'm thinking about Aidan. I love him very much." It's so cute.
The traffic and the way people drive here is notorious, but it's really quite amazing even if you know to expect it. Yesterday when we went back to the airport, Dani missed the exit, so he turned around ON THE FREEWAY. And surprisingly, this didn't earn us instant death or a ticket (although a policeman did happen to drive by and yell at us). Driving here is a complicated game of chicken, but without stress. You stop when you're apsolutely cut off from doing so by another driver. Every other car on the street is parked the opposite way because you just go to the other side without turning around to park. And even though everybody honks *constantly*, they're not mad when they do so. When I honk at someone, I'm pretty pissed. It's amazing what you can do to someone while driving and they don't even get mad. This country is altogether more laid back than America. I tried to figure out the common Lebanese word for "mad" (I know the formal word, but I don't think they use it), and they didn't understand what I was trying to get. Terrorists, indeed.
The biggest culture shock is that there are army checkpoints along the road and the gorgeous young soldiers are holding their M-16s. What they're looking for, I don't know, they always wave us through. I think it might be just something for them to do. There is universal compulsory service here, they have to do something I guess.
Most of the woman here in the South wear the hijab, a scarf just around their hair, (mostly colorful ones), but I haven't felt out of place. Although I have to say that lots of people here aren't ashamed to stare at you openly. Another culture shock, I guess.
OK, khalas, I'm done. Yallah, bye. (I think I'm all cool or something, ha ha)
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