Day NinetyNine

We had

one job today.
And it was to get to 
Paralimni.

We set off
in our backpacks
after what has become
a breakfast ritual
of fresh and dried fruits,
bread,
yogurt,
honey
and 
oats
and reach town
for the long coming
bus ride to
beach town.

We have some gyros
between waiting
and looking for a car 
to rent,
and realise that
all we've been doing
is eat.
Which supports 
local culture trends 
quite well.

We arrive 
to the bus stop
and two hours later
to the beach town
and beach house/
flat.

I haven't been here
since last September
when my Romanian friends
were here.
Literally two days
before visiting
Lebanon;
and staying there 
for months.

We pop to the supermarket 
close by
and on the way
manage to rent a car
from a guy
who meets us 
on the streets of the neighbourhood.
We drive the three minute drive
and as the night sets
we've spread out
our stuff,
claimed our beds,
Gregg has cooked something for us
and we're knibbling 
on mixed nuts
and cider
as the next 
UNO marathon
sets off.

And we have 
become exactly as
Hanna has been 
describing us;
a lil family.

Day NinetyEight

Gregg's arrival

and we prepare our backpacks 

for road trips 

from hometown Nicosia

to airport town Larnaca

to beach town Paralimni.

Just,

we haven't got a car.

We go to the bus stop

and after waiting some hot minutes

we ask for a hike

from a guy who's stopped at the supermarket.

I find this hilarious,

a hitch hike in my own village

from one side of the village

to the other,

but good old Alex

goes for it

and we get the ride in the end.

The guy is a typical

guy from the 

area.

Speaks broken English

and hasn't practice speaking it

in ages

ever.

He turns to me for brief conversation

but he can tell how grateful

the girls are 

I love Alex's communication ways;

she is confident 

at delivering 

her message across.

She thanks the person

to their face.

The guy drops us at a car renting place

but it seems that we won't be able to

rent a car before 5pm this evening.

Thing is,

Gregg arrives at 3pm.

I call dad.

He's on his way home.

We need his car.

He needs his car.

At 4.

We need it now.

Until 4.

It's half past 2.

He's 10 minutes away.

He arrives.

We have backpacks with us.

They don't fit in the car.

Bella's in the car too.

She's excited to see us.

She's barking.

I get in the car.

The girls stay.

We drive home.

Unload Bella and dad

and stuff from the boot.

I go back.

Get the girls.

We're on the way to the airport

to possibly arrive 

10-15 minutes late.

Perfect timing 

on Cypriot time.

And it's a road trip.

We arrive;

stealing in a suspicious

white stuff dealer-like car

and find 

Gregg waiting outside.

He doesn't recognise us

cz he doesn't know what to look for.

We have no internet at home so Alex didn't 

check her phone for updates.

We have no horn 

on the dodge car.

He has no luggage

and it's a wrap,

he sees us and jumps in.

We're all eager to tell him our journey

but it seems like he has his own story

to tell us.

It's hilarious.

Road trip back home

and we arrive bang on 4pm.

These timing skills should be rewarded.

I'm starving.

My dad has cooked!

Yum.

He takes the car and sets off.

We make some calls for the car.

Looks like it's not happening today. 

At least we're all packed for timorrow.

We play UNO instead.

Cut in!

Day NinetyTwo

Smooth landing

as my bro humbly picks me up from the airport

and takes me to the house.

As Alex would say

beit msh beit;

a house is not a home

so I desperately 

try to keep 

the Lebanese energy

alive in me.

The transition is smooth.

I wake up alone

in the company of my ill self.

And I prefer not having a voice

than having one and using it 

unwisely.

I contact nobody.

I haven't seen my dad and my mum doesn't know

I have arrived.

My day goes smoothly

with not much energy to do anything other

than

just exist.

My favourite.

And I have found myself at peace on similar days

like this one,

where the strengths of the self

are limited to 

taking care of just the self.

An ill day

of self care.

I make soup.

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 Eighty

A Day Two

with the mum

and I'm rediscovering Lebanon.

Re-amused, re-experiencing.

I notice more

and I know where to look.

Lebanon does this to you the first time;

it overwhelms you.

A short visit 

enriches your visual bank so much that you have no time to spend

on deep observation.

Yet this time,

I did.

I had the time to look at all the ways Lebanon is special

in the pickled jars,

in the huge corns,

in the carpet settings,

in the polluted highways,

in the old driver who speaks

three languages in one sentence

in the way the sea meets the land

and in the way it makes me feel so aware of myself.

Day SeventyFour

A day at the Cornish with Han.

Hanna Bananna

is such a gangster.

We went out for a walk to the Cornish after a long sleepy relaxing morning.

People were staring at us

possibly because it was a Sunday and we were in track suits;

or because we were at the peak of local posh

in tracksuits.

And I don't know what's worse;

that I look Lebanese and I have the guts to walk around the port in Asics

or that Hanna looks foreign and lost the way to the hood?

Anyway

we chilled

and walked that walk

and talked that talk.

Made eye contact with the only one guy jogging,

watched some break dancing in the square

and returned to our new base.

Had an afternoon nap,

woke up,

had unhealthy cheesy pizza dinner

and went back

to bed.

Sundays really are for chilling.

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 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.

Day ThirtySix

Jay's Day.

It's Jay's departure day and even though we spent the night with him at the pub quiz we're all ready to get up in the morning and say goodbye.

I hear his voice outside my door while he calls Ed out of the toilet.

I get up, open my dorm door and sneak out smiling at him. He gives me a hug and I say 

'I'll go back to bed until you have a shower.'

Instead I go upstairs and pick up my clothes from the laundry line on the top terrace.

His bag is packed and he's all ready to go.

I smile at him as I walk down with my dried clothes and stand in front of him to give him the goodbye hug.

I say he will be missed and that today won't be the same.

He already knows that.

He says bye to Luce and farewell to Sawsan on the stairs as he heads down.

I go to the kitchen pretending that my morning routine is going to go as planned. I look for cereal but someone's eaten the rest of it. I see Jay's bottle on the kitchen bar and I grab it running downstairs to catch him before he leaves.

It's one of those things you don't want people to leave without; 

not because it will remind you of him,

but because it's part of who he is when he travels.

He says 'Im here!'

while we meet on the first floor.

I hand him his water bottle and wait on the stairs while he's saying goodbye to Michael.

He walks out the door in a fast pace

we instantly hug again

and he says

'you changed my life'.

I blink and say,

'oh my god you did too'

as we part.

He heads downstairs..

I head upstairs..

with a slow, digestive pace.

I pause on the tenth step and look at the hostel entrance; not ready to reach it.

I take my time to realise what he just said

and the impact we've had on each other.

I pause a bit more

not being able to exit the zone of this lovely goodbye.

I walk upstairs,

and upstairs a bit more

to the top terrace

where I know I will be alone.

I have a look to the bottom terrace to see Sarah listening to some music on her headphones and Kate lying in the sun.

I start walking around in circles

to find my pace again;

knowing that it's up to me to keep it the way Jay set it for everyone.

And it's the first time I'm crying intensely knowing that this isn't separation

because even though he's departing

I keep a part

of him

in me.

Day ThirtyThree

Five-Day-Family

Jay was right. The hostel/traveler lifestyle is formed of five-day-families.

People you share showers, rooms, breakfasts and shots with.

People you take advice from without defenses;

and people who 

are able to become more of a family to you than your family ever was.

They see the current version of you and the way you have developed.

They don't see; or are not concerned with 

the spots you had on your face when you were growing from the black sheep to the princess feminist you are today.

They don't see; or are not concerned with

the double chin you think you always have when lying awkwardly on the couches.

They don't see; or are not concerned with

the unloving and unloved aggressive teenager.

Because they see

the single chin loving princess

you are today.

Jay stayed ten days.

Five-Day-Family x 2

Day Twelve

Baalbeck Day.

Though I had said I was going to Baalbeck, I woke up in a chilled mood, remaining in my baggy pyjamas. 10am and Bogdan walks in the common area, looks around and suggests;

'One more space in the car for Baalbeck guys...'

Nobody answers.

'Ok then. I'll come! Give me two minutes'. 

Chuckles in the background.

I run and get ready- knowing that we're heading to the snowy mountains. We get in the car and instantly start trolling our tourguide and driver Mohammed for not knowing how to get out of the streets of the hostel.

We pass a few checkpoints on the way and gradually lessen the distance to our destination. We are in awe of the snowy mountains and he assures us

'I will take you to Baalbeck'

'Inshallah'

'I believe you.'

We reply.

Baalbeck is considered a 'red zone' area and travelers are not advised to visit. It is on the border to Syria. 

We talk about Hesbola and the war taking place behind the mountains on our right. We pass the last checkpoint and celebrate our success with smiles and hoorays.

We reach the castle and get lost in the hypnotic view of snow-covered ruins and clear blue skies. We explore the area and take scenery, photoshop-like pictures. Our toes are freezing and our noses are red.

We decide to move on.

No photoshop used yeani

We're on our way to a 'very good lebanese food restaurant' that Mohammed wants to take us. He insists that we try this delicious delicacy with beef and I subtly announce that I don't like beef.

'Are you vegetarian?' !

'Yeah..! Yeh kind of.'

'But you are in Lebanon! You must try the meat!'

I laugh and say ok.

We get to the restaurant and he looks quite concerned for my food choices. He insists that if I don't eat meat I will be hungry! I laugh, look at the beef delicacies and turn to the cheese rolls instead.

We eat well, smoke some shisha and make a move as the sun starts to set. It looks like there is a snow storm coming so we decide to take an alternative route as we do not have chains on both tires. 

We reach a village, and, some kilometers away from our route we find ourselves in some mountain snowy turns. It's dark and the driver gets nervous. Bogdan figures out new routes through Google maps and we are stuck in a dark deadlock. The driver takes initiative;

'Guys, we must remember. Safety first. We will go back, safety first.'

We head back to the main road as none of us loses faith. The trip was still a journey and the mood sets back to cosy-comfy. We reach a crosspoint and buy more chains for the tires. I pop to the store to get some chocolate and the journey continues.

The road is dark, snowy and dangerous. Our driver takes it easy. We all keep it cool while Bogdan starts admitting his love for mountains. He sings us a Ukrainian song about love and mountains as the troll continues. We then all take turns to sing a song in our language. Luise is Armenian, Songyue is Chinese, I sing my Cypriot stuff and Mohammed sings in Arabic. Very sentimental, sweet moments as we have no idea what has been sung yet we all listened carefully. 

'Yalla let's sing something we all know!'

pause

'Titanic!'

And so we all start singing 

'Near... Far... 

Wherever you are'

And this is how Celine Dion has been bonding people since 1997.

[LoveLebaon]