Day FourtySeven

Leap year

and nobody knew until Facebook announced it on the newsfeed

or until people came to the desk to check out cz 

they thought it was March 1st,

like Zeed for instance.

So Monday funday

and it's my shift for cooking dinner.

I'm always excited to cook but the pressure of not succeeding to cook for many,

or the success my stew with couscous has had,

has made me reluctant to try something new.

But!

Today!

Chadya is in the kitchen and I've become the sous chef

for the day.

She's promised everyone an African dish with vegetables and peanut butter sauce,

and chicken for the meat-eaters.

We make a list and evolve ourselves around the meal.

Typical middle eastern ritual if you're asking me;

where the womaen's day consists of 

thinking what to cook

listing the ingredients

going out to get them

washing and chopping

and cooking them.

And it was that we did; we went out to get the ingredients we had listed,

and the ingredients we then washed, chopped and cooked.

Our feelings were mixed about making too much or too little

or if we should use chili or no chili

or make more salad or less because the food was too much now

or whether we need salad at all with this dish,

until Alex confidently said 

'it's always nice to have salad!

I like to have salad with my meals.'

Alex has a tendency to save the day.

And we thank her for that!

People are walking in and out the kitchen,

smelling the ginger and peanut butter,

grabbing a cucumber slice here and there 

and appetising themselves for the big feast.

The #dinnertime arrives and we all gather around a table.

A five-day family extended to a family fo life,

cz to gather around the table with others over cooked food

is not something everyone experiences;

at least not so intimately;

at least not so culturally.

We serve the rich thick sauce over warm rice and eat on a table with 12.

It's always amazing to have so many people 

welcomed and making space for each other to join.

No-one left out.

We complement the chef and I get complements for the salad as

we stay around and chat while the night fades out to different directions.

Sahtein.

Day FourtySix

Sunday funday

and I didn't know I was getting a group haircut today.

We make plans for getting Sawsan a birthday cake and wait for her to exit the premises after singing her the classic #HappyBirthdaySong

on the sunny terrace.

Sawsan leaves and says she'll be back for dinner.

Alex and I set off for the birthday mission as we come up with cake decoration ideas

like marshmallows,

and smarties.

We find what we want and return to the hostel.

Chadya is on a different mission;

to cut and dye my hair.

I usually do it myself so I have start considering myself my own professional

but she has done it before so I take my chances.

Bastien, who is leaving tonight 

is also on our dorm balcony and I'm confused as to how this event has taken male extension.

'Can I cut your hair?'

He says.

'Erm... Yeah!

Have you cut hair before?'

'Ah yeh! (He's French)

One time

When I was drunk'

'Ok, sure!'

I say jokingly.

He grabs the scissors 

and Alex is looking at my reaction.

I start thinking they're in the joke together

and that in fact Bastien

is good

at cutting hair

and this is a bluff..

I sit on the balcony wall,

he grabs some hair

and chops it off.

He extends his hand

and shows me

my chopped 

hair

in

his

palm.

I have a mini stroke 

and burst out laughing histerically

'What is thisssss

Bastiennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!'

'Ah it's your hair!

I cut it!'

With so much confidence,

so much aura,

so much sarcasm

one would think it's a dream

or rather a nightmare.

I really didn't know how to react apart from continuing to

laugh

hysterically. 

Chadya comes and I beg her to fix this!

She starts speaking to Bastien in French and between French lines I hear

'Catastrophe!'

And I agree!

'Quelle catastrophe!'

She chops a few more ends off

and tidies it up

while my adrenaline returns to normal levels.

I touch my head and find that I still have enough hair.

The jokes continue 

with my exaggeration,

Bastien's humour

and Chadya's comfort.

We proceed to dye my hair on the terrace 

as we meet new people who have just arrived.

I walk around with the dye on my head while Alex calls for cake decorations.

Sawsan is back and wondering around the common area.

We take the cake downstairs and start decorating

what turns out to be one of the fanciest cakes I've ever seen.

We make an smooth entrance 

gathering around the table for dinner

as the rest of the group walk in

with the panoramic cake.

I watch Sawsan being the sweetness that she is

and how delighted she is to have 

such a cozy

warm 

birthday day.

She blows out the candles.

We hug her 

as she reads the post-it notes

with birthday wishes in various languages.

Dinner is ready

and I'm off to wash my hair.

Day FourtyFive

Day Trip

Crazy bus ride!

Eleven of us decide to visit Tripoli after a night of tequilas at Tequila.

#ifyouknowyouknow

And it's surprisingly organised and well timed.

Slow of course.

We head down the stairs and I make a count

'We're eleven, guys! Have that in mind'

Nobody seems to care much 

and I'm wondering how many ducks will make it back.

First stop- shawarma.

Ultimate hangover breakfast and pre set-off fiesta

as the kind man sets out chairs for us

on the pavement

while we listen to Arabic music and become 

an attraction for locals.

We set off in a bus that we half fill

with a driver who's slowly getting out of his shell of entertainment for us.

Twenty minutes in and an other man is driving

while our initial driver comes out to sit with us and shares some Arabic moves.

We get to Tripoli and split in smaller groups.

The four of us set out to a humble adventure around the city.

We're all in preference of a smaller, intimate,

walk.

Alex has lost her voice

Mallory is out of Beirut for the first time after arriving from Lesvos

Chadya is on her first trip

and I'm in Tripoli for the first time.

We venture out to the streets,

to the alleys,

to the markets and 

to the hills.

We come across a cemetery on the hill

and take a moment to appreciate the view

and the connection we feel with places of history.

We walk down Aladin neighbourhoods 

and express very little in words.

There's not much to say 

when the place says it all.

And it's the one place in the world that has managed to connect so many foreigners

With its real vibe.

On the bus we had come across a Palestinian man who spoke about Palestine in the most peaceful way. He explained he was born here and the ways he has been made to live outside his country yet not being a part of an other.

He kept turning back to look at us at the last row of seats and each time our eyes met he could see how deep my hurt was for his hurt.

Yet every time his eyes comfortingly spoke to me

to say that this is how it is and that you can't live or survive with bitterness.

There was so much love in his look

that humbled me to the extent where I couldn't grasp his strength.

So there isn't really much to say.

Our roads lead us to a patisserie where we try some freshly cooked delights and the man insists that we sit around for tea and coffee.

I'm not so eager but Chadya shows her French/Algerian manners and says of course!

We sit there,

have some coffee,

start being 'socially questioned'

gazed by the surroundings

and taken pictures of by the owners.

I find this extremely lol

and ask myself if this is really happening.

I hadn't realised Tripoli is not so popular with tourists.

Or female tourists for that matter.

We start to head off and hear music and fireworks literally bursting above our heads

as the traffic indestructibly continues to move

and we see a group of people in traditional dresses coming out of the building.

The man explains to us that it's a traditional wedding and we get to witness it!

We walk along them and they notice us.

We are as much of a sight to them as they have become to us!

They get distracted for a second and crack a smile.

'Mabrouk!'

I shout out as they enter their red Benz with number plates

Just Married.

I don't think the Tripoli experience could be any more Trippi at this point

as the groom responds

'Shoukran'

aka Just Married

They drive off for a happily ever after

and we head back to streets we don't know

trying to find our way back.

We're meeting the rest at the square at 6.

We haven't been checking the time

just cz we're on a Trip.

And the trip continues

on the crazy bus that has come to pick us up 

with more Arabic tunes,

more dancing,

more smoking,

more singing.

Welcome to Lebanon.

Day FourtyFour

Losing faith in reason today

as one person is complaining and the other is moody to you.

Just to you specifically.

So you're moody back to see if it works for them.

And then a Latino looking tall hot person walks in.

Sex male

and you can sense that sensuality is what he goes by

through his loose top and latino hat that he doesn't take off until after 

the induction finishes.

Meanwhile our pregnant guest who was out for a couple of days returns 

and catches up with the girls on the terrace while I show Latino male his private room.

I sigh at the sight of it 

cz I wanted to be using this room

on a longed meeting with guy Y.

I don't know why guy Y 

isn't in my personal space yet 

but it gets a bit frustrating.

I have some left over tacos 

and continue to search for reasons I'm here.

Then I think of all the surreal things I hear

and see

like how Ama leaves without electricity when she's home

and how Hanna has a twin sister

or how Jay said

he would emulate me for the way I view people, the way I deeply understand my surroundings

or how Cyprus was one of the questions on the pub quiz the other night.

But still,

Y

Day FourtyThree

Strange how a place that feels like home can be an empty home at times.

We go to the coast area and find a calm spot on the rocks to sit, and write, 

and reload, and refresh.

Sarah brought her note book and I brought mine.

I have no intention of writing but carry it with me just in case the inspiration comes.

I lie down on the rocks

at a spot that seems carved like a sofa

and I let the sun rays

and salty particles in the air

sit on me.

I close my eyes and feel whole.

In my body, in my mind 

and in connection 

to others.

It was nice to feel comfortable in just being around someone again.

There is so much expectation and movement at the hostel some times that you forget the kind of form you take around few.

I think of going,

I think of staying

I think of options 

then I think of the only one choice

.to live.

I open my eyes just in time.

Sarah has completed her passage and I sit up,

take my nuts from my bag and listen to her story.

I come across a very green pistachio and I take a picture while she's still reading

while I'm still listening

while I'm still living.

Day FourtyTwo

Ama walks in at breakfast o'clock and with a bright energy asks where the toilet is.

She looks older than Duce and I start asking myself what it is about the place that attracts so much mature female energy and feminine wisdom.

The hostel is anyway based on female energy with Sarah, Maryam and myself around most of the time so the female energy becomes a lot more intensely present with women who are simultaneously,

travelling

    teaching 

        learning.

We sit on the terrace at sunset o'clock and share our stories and paths as it gets darker.

Our shares become deeper

and it appears that we have experienced very similar recent pasts. Her as a mother; and me as a daughter. We share our perspectives from our viewpoint at the time

and our more retrospective viewpoints from now.

I see a 53 year old woman I just met cry on the terrace;

About the hardship of having being a divorced, depressed mother.

A situation I so easily judged and was frustrated at in my own.

And I explained the viewpoint of the hurt and disappointed

daughter and child.

And we come to terms with that under the moonlight.

On a terrace.

At a hostel.

In Beirut.

Day FourtyOne

Go by feeling.

It will always take you somewhere nice.

It's past lay-in time and I decide to get up and go to the supermarket.

I'm on a mission to get those Crispy Nut cereal 

that I haven't had in months.

I pick the wrong pack cz there's many versions of them but

only realise when I'm back at the hostel.

I have some anyway.

I go by feeling, go by feeling

and we end up at Sifi

for lunch 

with Sarah.

I go by feeling, go by feeling

and we make it to our first

contemporary 

dance class

with Nina.

I go by feeling, I go by feeling

and I explore a side of myself

which is more

etheric

and 

free

than

I 

ever knew.

We dance in circles,

walk in lines

and roll in 

stars.

I'm grounded,

I think of now.

I'm elevated 

I think of where I want to be.

I go by feeling, I go by feeling

and I'll be gone

with Feeling.

Day Fourty

Sara from England

works with youth and adults with anti-social behaviour 

and she's here to do good.

Today,

she went to Bekka Valley to collect a fifteen year old boy 

and take him to an other village where he will be 

staying with extended family and where he will start school,

tomorrow.

She's on a fundraising mission where funds go to support refugees directly

-somewhat boycotting the idea of NGO support due to their

in-transparent fund distribution.

Nonetheless,

I'm in the kitchen cooking

and Duce comes up to me and starts describing her experience with Sara

and the mission.

She has a very,

very

grateful and humbled 

tone in her voice.

She starts by saying 'I am lucky'

'I am lucky, because even if I do not have parents

or a family

or mother

I did not have to carry my sister

who has no legs

and to see my own parents die in front of my eyes.

So I am lucky'...

I'm putting everything together in my mind as well as in the pan 

as I make the link of a very,

very

bitter upbringing 

becoming moulded into appreciation

in the sight of devastating 

and traumatic 

scenes

Syrian children are experiencing.

I turn the fire up

and look at Duce between

glancing at the clock on the wall

and thinking I don't have enough time

to add more red sauce in the pan.

Day ThirtyNine

Volunteer meeting day.

We wake up, all around 11am knowing that we have a meeting upstairs at 12.

We are in the same dorm, Alexandra, Hanna and I and they are also long-term guests here, and here for volunteering.

We make coffee and gather around the common area. Mallory arrives and so does Caroline. Zeed is out for the day but our group looks ready to go! We start discussing ideas it's the first time we are planning multiple classes on multiple days with multiple people and it makes me very proud to be part of this. And to see how this developed from two girls visiting Shatila a couple of times a week in early September.

We arrange English, dance and activities classes while considering what we might need to buy before starting. The vibe is very supportive and the girls are super excited. I'm glad. For everything.

The meeting ends and the four of us decide to head off to Cuentista; a social space with good wifi. This sounds extreme but the wifi in Lebanon is quite slow, and we all have work to do.

I get to know more about the girls and we exchange blog links. Mallory's impresses me. She has a direct and raw way of speaking it out; everything about the perception of refugees from Westerners and so we link and bond even more.

It's nice to spend some girl time with girls who are as boy as I am. And our hours pass lightly and productively, with the owner of Cuentista asking if we need anything more.

Day ThirtyEight

A lone day.

I wake up in a light, good mood, walk upstairs, have some breakfast and head off to nowhere in particular.

I realise I haven't been out alone like a tourist or even like a local during my time here. I'm always with people I know or with people I meet. 
I get to the main street and walk around.

I wonder, noticing new graffiti as I come across a patisserie. I go inside and pick a chocolate piece. The man asks me if I would like to have it here and I say yes please. He serves it to me in a plate and invites me to grab a chair. I say it's ok and head outside.

I sit on the sidewalk by the doorstep having this butter-filled delight as I people watch and observe the architecture of the buildings across the street. And it feels good. To be out exploring the city from my take. After being here for so many, days. I enjoy it and I'm so totally in the now.

My day continues with this feeling of knowing what is good for me and going for it.

My evening starts off with a citrus & cinnamon drink to prevent the cold I think is coming and is followed by a trip to the theatre.

I haven't been to the theatre in a long time and I usually go alone so this was the perfect way to complete my loneness.

'Things I'm Not'.

This is a contemporary dance piece of two people going through the ups and downs of what it takes to meet. Somewhere. Somehow.

And everything it takes to stay close, without destroying each other.

To co-exist. With an other and with your demons. 

And which one wins, or wins you over each time.

It was lovely.

More so because I felt less lonely than ever.