Day Eight

On the topic of love I find that distance can be the factor that keeps people apart or the one that brings them together.

People hang out around the hostel in the nicest spirit and when you stick around them for longer you find out deeper lovestory secrets. And this topic always comes up when there aren't any other people around. (Apart from Sarah's lovestory of course, which is a topic of discussion on the dinner table, on the terrace, in the kitchen, at the bar.)

Mia books a private dorm and tells me about her lovestory. She finds it hard to put words to it and I say '...nice!' as if to reassure her that I get it. Unexplained happiness and euphoric comfort flow. I get it.

She asks, 'how about you?'

My eyes glisten as I bring to mind a guy who lives 2,103km away. I explain that it has been a long time coming as I ignored the guy before; trying to protect myself. Almost not allowing myself to accept that he had shown a subtle interest in the past.

Her look surprised, curious to hear more. 

'Well, 

we live in different countries,

 but we're supposed to go for coffee soon!'

She smiles at me yet I don't confess the times I have pictured him here and me there.

Day Seven

'If it meant to be,

it wu be.'

Quote of the day from Lu, from China.

He said 'ma gefrend left me yesteday, ba I'm no sad.

If it meant to be, it wu be.'

Hostel stories usually involve love and separation since it is a home for travelers. Travelers who meet a loving match on the journey, or have left one to travel. 

Yet between us there is this greater confidence that it's not all that bad. We share independence and growth. We share teachings and compassion. Cz we travel alone yet at the end of the day we gather around the table and dine. We serve each other and comment on the hostelmade meal of the day. We laugh and play silly drinking games without drinking. And we're able to say that 'this help me a lat becau I wa feeling down'.

<3

Day Six

First day at work!

Feeling excited, feeling ready, feeling confident, for my first day at work.

I go up to the reception floor and start looking for things to do; 20 minutes before my shift even starts (at 9). I try to switch on the computer and realise that the electricity is off. In a blink of an eye the breakfast has arrived, the guys have opened it, people are walking in and out, water is boiling on the stove, rain is pouring down the skies and an elephant is sitting on the couch.

I look at the clock and it's 10am, 5 people have checked out, 4 have gone for day trips, 3 have stayed, 2 arrived and it's been 1 hour since I started working.

'I QUIT! HALAS!

THAT'S IT!'

I jokingly exclaim on the terrace as I appreciate that the universe wanted me to experience it all in one single hour. 

---

6pm, I collect my thoughts and come to compose this blog post.

The lights go out.

'My nerves!!'

Lights out.

Day Five

Early wake up for training day two and I hang around with my Flora who's leaving at 9am. I whip my hair back and forth to dry it while she checks in her flight. We hear the taxi arriving so we lightly hug with the hope to see each other again.

I wiggle around a bit more as the early birds start appearing for breakfast. I'm behind the desk with Maryam. Antony comes and let's us know he'll be leaving around 12. He goes out to get money and around 11 he hands in his keys. We take a break from training and I approach him at the dining table while spreading out puzzle pieces. I start putting the pieces together and look up at him.

'How are you feeling?'

'Um... Quite sad..!'

He's French and his English is not so fluent.

'It has been the most English I ever heard in my life during a week. It help me a lot to improve.'

Then he asks if I would like some tea. I say yes of course and he makes me one. He places it between the puzzle pieces.

'I will miss you!' I blurb.

And my gut gets a little tied up realising that every time I've been around him he's made me tea. Realising that our communication was never based on intellectual conversations but rather on pure, caring, considerate gestures.

Then I drop a light one;

'So you will cry in the bus?'

'Ah no, boys don't cry!' he says jokingly.

The time comes, he lifts his backpack, hangs it on his shoulders and hugs me. He smiles and winks as if to say take care of yourself in the most non-sexual loving way.

I awkwardly walk towards the couches, and before I have time to save the moment I hear Roman reading out French poetry to, well, the cat, I'm guessing.

'[Je de floop flee

Sleh pu le la lu blah,]

Dormer,

Rever,

[De la floop flah]'

'What does [de la floop flah] mean??'

'It mean <I will be gone>'

He slaps the book shut, places it on the shelf and walks off. I stay staring at the shelf thinking- this isn't happening right;! One of the most surreal French scenes of my life indeed.

I walk around without direction and try to rewind the scene in my head. I walk to the puzzle, then to my dorm, Sarah calls me for tea and I say 'I already have one' as the curtains close and I'm still figuring out how to deal with goodbyes.

12am. Good afternoon.

Day Four

My alarm goes off and I'm ready for 'Valley day w/ Flora'. I wake up in the sweetest mood after spending my night snuggling with Teresa. I remember seeing her tiptoe on my bed at some AM hours. 'oh it's you Teresa, come' as I lift my bed covers for her to land between my spooning arms. The last time we snuggled was the night before I left Beirut in November so it was nice to have her back.

Old photo of Teresa

We set off with Flora into what is a very confusing bus system to get to Sahle Valley. We finally end up in a minibus with loud Arabic music which sounds Syrian to me, and we enjoy mountain gazing through the window.

We arrive at a village with no tourists and have a walk around on the hilly neighborhoods. The locals look at us and call out 'fadale' [come]. They are curiously impressed to see two foreign-looking strangers in their hood. We smile and pretend we're off to somewhere. We can see the valley from where we stand but we can't explain in Arabic that we want to go there. Among Arabic pantomime we figure they're inviting us in but our limited Arabic vocabulary and their limited English one will not get us through an awkward hour in their homely homes. We smile, thank them and carry on walking.

Fresh air, sunny roofs and snowy mountain sites complement our positive mood as we decide to reach the valley. We find a driver in an old Mercedes who's willing to take us. Even though he didn't understand where we wanted to go yet.

Arabic pantomime continues and we finally recognise the valley. We came here to visit Syrian refugee settlements and between untranslated lines he says, 'Dgri Suria!, meaning 'Syria is straight on'.

'Yalla, dgri!' I say.

Day Three

Training day.

So I came back to Lebanon because, Lebanon. 

Everything connects and makes sense here. And i'm staying at Hostel Beirut, where I stayed for Sept.- Nov. 2015 while executing a volunteering project with refugees. This time I'm also taking up some reception duties at the hostel - and today is my training day.

I wake up and look at 'On This Day' FB memories. Massive Attack - Teardrop appears and I start playing it while stretching in bed. Basem walks in on the soft melody,

'Great song to wake up to'

I'm still stretching as I smile at him.

I get up, go to the bathroom and see Antony walking out of a hot steam. There is no electricity and I'm just smiling at how smooth the transition is from sleeping to ambient low lighting. We all brush our teeth in the hallway, still waking up.

My excitement grows as I wear my favourite pants and go out to get paperwork. I feel like this is going to be the most flexible training I've had in years. 

I return to the hostel to find Sarah and Basem on the terrace, preparing work under the sun. I join in, we smoke and laugh at silly things like holding a cigarette with a clip and nervously head off to train. 

Day Two

Well, actually day one, as I arrived at night on Day One. 

Victor wakes me up like we've been siblings for years. He slides the dorm doors and peaks through the split. He's brushing his teeth as he says 'I'm going to Shatila'. He mumbles some hangover words and looks at me. Eyes wide open.

'I wanna go to Shatila too!'

'Ok, we're leaving in 15 minutes.'

He hasn't realised the depth of my excitement, but he was right on time. 

Shatila was familiar. The whole journey there was familiar. And I was experiencing it with people I had just met on Day One. Like Flora for example; who I thought was French for the entire bus ride to Shatila.

Easy, sunny, smooth walk into the heart of my teachings, Bukra Ilna. The place where I started teaching English and 'learning' Arabic.

The kids recognise me. I recognise them too. One by one. Glistering eyes and smiles of surprise overcome them. 

'Habibi!'

I call Foaz, one of the most mature and loving children. He looks at me with disbelief and overwhelm as his face turns into a huge smile of relief.

'Hello Habibi!'

Old photo of Foaz