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.