Day Hundred Fouteen

Back to work

and the anticlimax

has hit me.

The day off has brought more heaviness

than the tiring days at work have.

I wonder why

and I stay quiet

as the hours go by.

A group of three friends

walk into a bar.

Into our restaurant.

Actually one didn't walk in.

He rolled his wheelchair in.

And, being anticlimactic

as I was,

I try to be enthusiastic

yet not fake

to get an order from them.

I pay no attention

to the wheelchair

apart from 

the person on it.

He is

enthusiastic

and can see 

a certain worry in me.

I hope 

he doesn't think

I've been affected by

his special situation.

In fact

I find his wheelchair one of the coolest I've seen

and him, also.

The intrigue continues

as I serve the beers

and I can feel

that he can feel me.

He raises his voice

to raise the vibration,

I guess.

'THAnk yOU!'

I lower it 

smoothly.

':).. you're welcome'

in this way to show

my awareness 

of the

certain saddness in the air.

I still wonder

what it is.

The guys have their beers 

and 

head off.

I'm cleaning the bar

outside

and with the corner of my eye

I catch the two guys 

talking as they wait for the rest.

The special guy

seems to be expressing 

why he's sad

and the other guy

affectionately

touches his cheek 

and hugs him

by pulling his head

with his hand

towards his

standing body.

I make eye contact

with the special guy.

I smile empathetically;

he does too.

And it remains a mystery

whether he thinks 

I've seen his sadness

or whether he has seen

mine.

Day Hundred Twelve

Returning 

confidently to the workplace 

where the shift starts easy 
and gradually gets a little busy.

I can see in myself

and through the responsive vibes

of customers

and coworkers 

that I'm doing something right.

There are of course, 

some people who like to enjoy their meal 
without any further interaction.

This is how I thought 
the old Finish couple wanted to enjoy theirs.

Yet I kept returning to their table,

to ask where they are from

or to serve them strawberry margaritas.

The lady then suddenly removes her sombrero 
and gives her phone to her husband. 
She opens her arm and I reach to ask how I can help.

She drags me into her arms and holds me for a picture. 
I become so overwhelmed as we share 
a love- filled moment of non-verbal affection.

The day continues with more 
fun Scandinavians and Russians coming in.

At some point a Brazilian- looking woman arrives 
with her family of husband and  two sons.

I ask if she is Brazilian, 

as last night a Brazilian woman had said I look Brazilian.

She tells me she's from Palestine.

A bell rings in my head

'Do you speak Arabic?'

'Of course!'

'Ana kaman [me too]'

'Walla! Mn wein nti? [Really! Where are you from?']

I explain I am from Cyprus 
but was in Lebanon and spent time in Shatila. 
She is a bit shocked. 
She tells me 
she has friends there 
and that it's an unsafe environment for them. 
I tell her 
I agree and that even politically 
what's happening is terrible. 
But that the people there are very, very loving. 

We share a compassionate blink

and I proceed to take orders.

I feel the conversation hasn't been completed

and I wish I could speak Arabic for longer.

I'm carrying drinks

thinking of this crazy coincidence

and where I was

and where I am

and that this coincidence should appear like that

on a Wednesday;

a Shatila day. 

Day NinetySeven

Tuesday

and my mum invites us

for sushi by the beach.

It's a place we go

occasionally

for some sushi and some sunshine.

We get there 

and it feels like summer.

It's hard to believe it's 

mid April.

We sit

at the all white 

sushi restaurant

and the beach is a few metres

away from us.

The sushi is great

and none of us can wait to move on

to the water.

The girls pick sunbeds

right on the shore

and I join them

reluctantly taking off

the layers of clothes

I'm wearing.

I've been ill

and it's April.

The girls are from Sweden

and I'm from Cyprus.

Hanna

walks to the water and puts her feet in.

'AAA!!!'

'Whaaaat!'

'It's so warm Eleeena!!'

'Noo, you're kidding. I'll tell you 

if it's warm.'

I walk to the water.

My skin sensors are 

scared

of a frozen water

and I know I'm not Elsa.

I touch the water with my toes.

It's

warm.

I can't believe it myself.

Alex has gone for an infamous pee

and she returns right on time

for the warm water hype.

She comes to the water

and 

realising how warm it is

runs and jumps and splashes 

water on us

like a Kellogg's K 

advert

in the more authentic

version.

I'm loving it

but I start making my way back 

to the sunbed.

I watch team Finland

enjoying their swim

and consider 

the crazies of life.

I would freeze in Finland.

Anyhow,

coats off;

first swim of the year

done!

Day EightyNine

Rap Night.

The night I thought would never come.

Though we visit Monday Rap Nights at Radio Beirut 

more often than not

tonight was different.

I meet up with Maryam,

which is also a thing that doesn't happen often

and we decide to go to Radio Beirut

after catching up in the warmest way at her home space.

We play tauli and 31 cards

as the rap night starts.

The rest of the Hummozapien gang said they would come

so I occasionally peak over to see a familiar face.

Our games end and I feel 

that I know Maryam as ever before.

She shares a secret with me

and I feel special to have been there at that moment.

The feeling of gratitude and love

are unreal

and I wonder when I'll see 

her pure face again.

We smile and walk to the bar.

The gang is sitting in the far corner

and everyone's got their 

rattitude 

on.

The Arabic rap battle

amuses new and old visitors

and the crowd's cheerings makes me wonder what they said.

I ask Maryam.

She says they're swearing.

A ok,

still finding it cool.

I look at Zeed

and suddenly we're all begging him to go on stage and rap.

He says 

'Yo yo don't pressure it. It has to come naturally.'

What I heard was,

it's not happening today-

though I still kept my eyes puppied to Allah

to make this the day we see Zeed rapping.

And indeed Allah didn't disappoint.

Just like that,

as if I didn't wait every Monday

for three months

for this moment,

Zeed appears on stage.

Such a gangster this guy

grabs the mic and starts rapping 

in Dutch.

Finishes.

Drops the mic.

Walks off.

Gangsta.

PS: thank you Allah.

Day EightyEight

Asherafie Street Party

the talk of the town

as the streets deny entrance to cars and a crafts market is set out instead.

Chadya, Julia, Alex and I set off to check it out.

We get there in a layed back stroll

and start observing colours and textures.

Alex sees an interesting bracelet,

one with an anchor on it

and it's the one Jay was thinking to get back in February

before he found the perfect bracelet.

I wonder if he still wears it.

We head to where the music is louder 

and our energy is hyped.

I tell Alex over loud outdoor music

'WE SHOULD HAVE A DANCE FOR THIS!'

since we already have a little hip hop rutine for other beats.

She heard 

'WE SHOULD DANCE TO THIS'

and nodds to me repeatedly.

She waves 'come'

so we stand next to each other

and dance it off 

like an international flash mob.

We look left and right and next thing you know

we are surrounded by people following our steps.

The music is so loud we can't even hear our laughter

but the beat goes on

and so does the mob.

We give a smooth finale as the song ends and

proceed to look at scarfs on the next stall.

Casually. Rockstars.

The market seems boring

after a while,

and we get hungry.

We pick up some wraps and sit opposite the stall.

With Julia we discuss 'alternative' and 'underground' 

scenes of Beirut compared to Cypriot and German scenes.

Last night was a bit of a disappointment so we wonder where the scenes are at.

We move on to afternoon outdoor partying

and we come across a taste of that scene.

A female dj

playing house electro

behind broken walls

within policed spaces

on the streets

of Beirut.

Quite alternative I'd say.

And at that moment I was so content

for experiencing all this

in such scary settings

yet feeling so free.

Again and again,

what is it about Beirut.

I guess it's not having much to lose

cz everything has been lost already.

And so

we celebrate life.

Walla.

Day EightyFive

Last Thursday in Berut.

And I know that cz my visa expires

on the Wednesday.

Haven't booked a ticket

feeling moody

not caring

not giving a single fuck.

Wanna stay

then I wanna go

then I don't wanna go to Cyprus

then I wanna go Dubai

then I'm rushing it

then I know I have to go anyway

then I'm not ready.

And so

I don't fuvking book my flight.

Halas.

Ain't nobody got time for this stress.

We're out at a bar

with the Hummozapiens

and they're asking me when I'm leaving

so we can arrange a goodbye barty. 

I say arrange the barty

and I'll leave after that.

They love me

they're so caring.

They wanna see me good

weather I stay

whether I go.

So I book the flight later.

    

Day EightyThree

Strange day of realising

you've overgrown your surroundings.

The same surroundings 

you thought were a mountain to climb

Yet they now appear just

a small hill

you missaw 

as large

in the beginning.

And you've conquered the mountain

long before you could see

it was a hill.

Yet the passers-by 

who encouraged the mountain illusion

can only still see the peak from the bottom.

And the ones who knew 

it was a hill

from the start

are warm-hearted 

for your better eyesite

and switch of angle.

Last shift.

Or so it became.

Day SeventyEight

- Home To Many -

That is, my heart.

After struggling to define stability and its elements;

after trying to locate it and picture it 

and after shifting it from land to land

I find it here within me.

And its elements are the feelings of comfort

its picture includes friendly faces

and what I carry is the other end of the bond created.

It strengthens me; though I thought it would weaken me.

It creates me; though I thought it would destroy me.

It is home

when I thought I was homeless.

Alex said the other day,

'Home is where the notes are'

in an honest joke

of how we have made each other home

and have done so through notes.

Then again,

Kyr, whose art I am a great fan of

and who so delicately expresses herself in colours

messaged me just now to say how Home To Many

inspires her

and that with the way I see the world 

through mind and heart

I am able to 

change someone for the better.

I got goosebumps.

Who, me I can inspire?

I have readers?

Of course I do.

And it's the fear of sounding arrogant that would make me doubt that I do.

Because of course I write for people to read.

Of course I write to inspire.

And I'm glad it gets expanded

even through 'hard' times.

And then I told Kyr,

<<It's been a hard road to get here and it still is hard to be able to keep the light shining..>>

and she told me to write about it.

And really,

I don't know what to focus on;

that it seems so unpleasant to the self when it's happening

or that the self comes out confident and bright

like nothing happened.

How can I be writing about emotional and psychological struggles

in a flourishing garden?

I think I made it yo,

I think I'm happy!

by Kyr.

#firetoinspire

Say SeventySeven

Pub Quiz.

The Hummusapiens are back.

Once more determined to win this Pub Quiz,

once more determined to know the randomest of facts

once more ready to be self-proclaimed Moral Winners of the night.

Alex and Hanna join us,

Ed is determined,

Zeed is confident,

Chadya is there for the hummus,

Jen is American,

the Dutch guy on the corner of the table knows the year FRIENDS firs aired,

I have a blocked nose and lack of oxygen to my brain I use that as an excuse,

the quiz continues,

we lost again,

anticlimax,

halas,

next week we- will- win- the- quiz.

Day FiftyFive

Women's Day

but nothing changed in our positive female energy zone.

The girls are women every day;

Hanna

with her casual gangster walk who will drop something completely raw

without any sense of guilt or remorse

Chadya

with her light butterfly presence who will come sit next to you

or on top of you and express her determined thoughts

Mallory

with her shy yet confident look who will be patient for you to talk

and then respond to the point with her mature take 

Alex

with her enthusiastic and ready presence who will hear an idea 

and develop it into practice

Duce

with her opinionated stance on things who will put her cards 

on the table and advice you to take them

Sarah

with her deep analysis of behaviour who will try to understand it

for what it could be

Maryam 

with her reserved presence who will let her hair down 

once in a while and let her beauty shine

Elina 

with her casual look who will
 take an extra second to process and react.

And we all learn from each other.

We all celebrate 

every day

for the beauty of female interaction,

support

and development.

What a time to be a woman!

Day FiftyFour

Morning Monday shift

and Gregg walks in with his small backpack.

He was here last week 

until he left for Bekka Valley to go out and

help at the refugee settlements there.

He works with an organisation and is quite active 

but I don't know much about him.

'Hey welcome back!

No induction needed then, huh? :)'

'Nah'

'Your bed is upstairs in the mixed dorm :)'

He jumps the stairs and leaves his stuff.

I hadn't realised how tall he is.

I notice he has spots on his face

and I wish I had been as confident as he is

when I had spots on my face.

He's quiet 

but not in a passive way;

rather in a more 

observant way.

It makes it hard to start a conversation

because I feel that dropping something light

might be completely out of context 

to the vibe he's observing.

It makes it hard to start a conversation

because it's lowering 

the level of awareness.

And I'm sure he's that great.

Cz if he wasn't we would have been able to hold a conversation.