Student Government

Yesterday AUB held its elections for student government. I know, you're probably thinking: "big deal." In my experience, student government elections on US campuses have generally been little more than popularity contests, or at best, small-scale exercises in civics and democracy for the students who bothered to pay attention to them.

At AUB, however, the student elections are seen as a microcosm of national politics, and the results of yesterday's election are being looked at as harbingers of the national parliamentary elections set for May. The campus was in a mild version of lockdown yesterday: no visitors or alumni permitted, and no one admitted without showing a current AUB id. This because in years past, armed outside supporters came to participate in the electoral process. For despite AUB's prohibition against student parties overtly declaring their affiliation with national parties, the main student groups are funded and supported by national political parties. As a result, the students had some pretty slick-looking t-shirts, vests, banners, pens, armbands, and other stuff advertising their political affiliations.

Although the student elections were nearly as bewildering to me as national politics, with the help of some articles in the Lebanon Daily Star I was able to figure out that the "Students at Work" party is affiliated with the March 14th coalition, which is currently in power in Lebanon and is supported by the US and other western countries. The March 14th coalition seems to be mainly Sunni and Druze, with some Maronite Christian supporters. The "Students at Work" wore fluorescent yellow vests, DOT-style (or Abba-style), and had lots of bright yellow scarves and armbands as well. I didn't see any of their flyers, so I'm not really sure what their platform was.

The other major student party, called "Race for Change," is affiliated with the March 8th opposition alliance, according to the Daily Star. March 8th seems to be primarily Shiia (Hizbullah is probably its most high-profile supporter). Here's the thing that confuses me, though: I saw some "Race for Change" flyers and was expecting some juicy anti-Western rhetoric. Instead, they mostly criticized the AUB tuition increase and asked for a wider variety of food in the cafeteria.

There were also a handful of independent parties, including one independent leftist party that had cool-looking black t-shirts with red stars.

All this week I could hear the noisy groups of students amassed near West Hall, where the voting would take place.

students by West Hall

They cheered, chanted (I couldn't really understand what they were chanting, though at times it sounded like the chants of "USA" that you hear from rowdy sports fans at the Olympics), blew shrill whistles, applauded, and generally made a lot of noise. Last night, after the polls had closed, students crowded into convertibles or dangled precariously out the windows of suvs and cruised through the streets of Hamra, waving flags, chanting, cheering, blowing whistles, even singing. All the noise died down by 10pm or so. All that remains now is to read the post-election articles in the student newspaper and the Daily Star. Although who knows--it may get broader press attention. The Los Angeles Times already did one article this month about AUB elections. Anyway, it looks like the "Students at Work" have won a slim majority.

I know some people find the students' passion for and excitement about these elections somewhat frightening, but I just see college students who are very much aware of their role in the wider world. The same students who come to class, do their reading (usually), and speak politely to their classmates and professor also see themselves as having a part to play in their nation's future. The students holding signs and passing out flyers are aware of a world beyond grades and nightclubs and Beirut fashion. Scary? Maybe. But the alternative--apathetic students who leave politics to others--is pretty scary, too, don't you think?

For further reading (and a better photo of the students by West Hall):
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=1&article_id=97969
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=1&article_id=98040
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/babylonbeyond/2008/11/lebanon-aub-ele.html

Mail

One of the endearing things about Beirut is that there are really no street addresses. That is, buildings are not numbered, so written and spoken directions often revolve around landmarks. Add to that the fact that streets may be known by two different names, or by one name with several different spellings, and you start to appreciate the difficulty of sending and receiving mail in Beirut. To circumvent that problem, I and most of the other faculty members get our mail sent to the English department's mailbox at the central Libanpost office downtown. Someone from the school goes to the big Libanpost office every day and fetches the mail for all of us. This works well, except for packages that need to have the recipient pay customs on them. When such packages come in, we get a notice saying that there is a package waiting at Libanpost.

I got one of those happy notices last week, and today set off to find the downtown Libanpost (I'd never been) and pick up my package. It was a beautiful, sunny morning; perfect for a walk. I strolled downtown, past the perpetual construction sites with their cranes and jackhammers, and eventually got to the city center, near the parliament building. After having my bag inspected, I asked one of the rifle-toting guards where I could find Libanpost, and he pointed across the street. Sure enough, there was a huge, modern-looking post office building.

I went inside and gave my package slip to a worker who soon came back carrying an intriguing-looking box wrapped in brown paper. She asked to see my ID, asked for the 5000 lira customs fee (a little over $3), and handed over my package--the first box I'd received here in Beirut (not counting desk copies of course texts). It was fairly heavy, made interesting noises when gently shaken, and had been mailed from Farmington, Maine way back on the 8th of November, over two weeks ago. It was addressed to me in my sister-in-law's neat handwriting, though I noticed my brother's distinctive script on the customs declaration form. I put the box in my bag and headed home.

On the way I stopped to photograph an interesting-looking metal doorway and was immediately approached by a policeman who asked what I was photographing. I tried to explain that I just thought the door was pretty and offered to delete the photo. He shook his head in what I interpreted as a "silly foreign girl!" kind of way and said, "No, don't delete it," and walked off.

Once home I took a picture of the box (along with my customs receipt, complete with pretty Lebanese stamp), and unwrapped it.

Inside was...Halloween candy!!! Oh, happy day! I regretted missing Halloween this year, so these old standbys were welcome sights. And on the back of one of the candy bags, this tidbit: "Each year Americans consume enough candy corn that if laid end-to-end, it would circle the earth 4.25 times." Now if that doesn't make one feel proud to be American, I don't know what will!

All in all, my trip to the post office was a nice reminder that even though my building doesn't have a street number, little tastes of home can still find me here. It's amazing to think that my candy corn started out in Farmington, Maine, flew across an ocean, and is now here, open, on my kitchen table. It makes home and the people who live there seem not so far away. Thanks, guys!

Laundry and Independence

Happy Lebanese Independence Day, everyone! I'll confess up front that I slept right through this morning's ceremony downtown. It sounds like it was very much a military celebration: lots of troops in formation, tanks driving around, and important officials and dignitaries in the audience. One interesting thing, though, is that this is the first time in three years that Beirut has had a public outdoor independence celebration--years past have been too unstable to risk it. 
 
So far I have observed Independence Day by not speaking French (since it was from the French protectorate that Lebanon emerged as an independent country in 1943) and doing laundry. Near the laundromat there is a little bakery that makes and sells those purse-shaped loaves of bread with handles on them and thyme inside. The bakery actually has a vertical conveyor belt in the front window that rotates the bread down into a heating area and then back up into the window for display. It's the neatest thing. The photo doesn't do it justice, but might give you an idea.
 
I also spotted this very odd "toilets" sign right outside the laundromat. I'm guessing that it might have something to do with the Beirut Marathon which will be held next weekend, but I'm not sure. Sadly, there are to my knowledge no public bathrooms anywhere near the sign. Go figure.
 
This coming week will bring student elections here on campus. They should be interesting to watch--I'll keep you posted! Happy Independence Day and Happy Thanksgiving to all!
 

Hiking in the Chouf Mountains

This weekend I finally made it out of Beirut and experienced a little of Lebanon's countryside! I signed up with a local sustainable and eco-tourism group to hike part of the Lebanon Mountain Trail (LMT). The LMT is a 275-mile-long network of trails that runs nearly the length of the country, though lots of little towns and villages. It is funded largely by USAID. On Sunday, we hiked nearly eight miles and got up to nearly 4000 feet of elevation--not too shabby, if I do say so myself! (And notice that I'm converting kilometers to miles and feet for those of you who, like me, still struggle with the metric system!)

On Sunday morning, about 20 or so of us assembled in the city and piled onto a minibus for a two-hour drive to the village of Maasser El Shouf, where we started the hike. We stopped along the way to pick up the man who was to be our local LMT guide for the day and to buy some awfully tasty manouchi (flatbread and veggie sandwiches) for breakfast. Almost as soon as we got out of the city we started seeing all sorts of fruit trees, farms, and gardens. We even passed a big patch of banana trees which produced small bananas! I don't know why the grocery store in Beirut sells big ones from Equador when there are so many right outside town. Anyway, there were a few beautiful produce stands next to the manouchi shop.

Soon we reached Maasser El Shouf, a small village in the mountains with lots of little buildings roofed with red tiles.

Our driver then took off, not to be seen again until we caught up to him many hours later in the village of Niha, where the hike ended. The day was sunny and cool--perfect hiking weather, though it was a little hazy in the morning. Our path followed the sporadic purple and white blazes marking the LMT, though without our local guide, it would have been easy to lose the trail. The LMT information cautions against wandering too far off the trail because of the persistent danger of land mines from the civil war. Our route took us through some Druze villages which I'm told were embroiled in bloody conflicts with the nearby Christian villages during the war. All we saw on the hike, though, was some innocuous old metal debris from a mortar round.

Oh, and we saw LOTS of shotgun shells! Turns out that hunting is a very popular pastime in Lebanon, but the only thing left to shoot are small birds. We didn't see any birds flying around, but we heard distant shotgun fire, and even met one of the local hunters. His English was quite good and he was wearing, improbably, a faded and much-worn John Deere cap. Our hike leader asked him if he picked up his empty shells. When he said "no," she started good-naturedly haranguing him about keeping the country clean.

After lots of hiking through fairly arid country, we came to a very elaborate picnic area (courtesey of USAID) next to the spring of Chaachouaa. The heavy concrete picnic tables overlooked a splendid valley, and wild lavender flowers scented the perimeter. After lunch and filling water bottles at the spring, we still had about an hour and a half to go to get to Niha. Maybe it I just feeling refreshed after lunch, but I'm convinced that the last section of trail was the most scenic. We passed trees laden with pomegranites, persimmons, and apples, and passed a few small homes with grape arbors in their yards. Most of the last section, though, was through green and wild-looking countryside, with small streams here and there. Across the valley I could see the stone terraces carved into the steep hillsides where villagers planted their gardens.

persimmons on a tree

When at last we got to Niha and boarded the bus, I was ready to sit down! It had been a wonderful day out in the countryside, where the nip in the air and the turning leaves reminded me that it is indeed Thanksgiving time. When we disembarked the bus in downtown Beirut, the sea-level air felt warmer and more humid than I remembered, the stars were dimmed with city pollution, and the ubiquitous car horns sounded louder than ever. But just thinking about those mountains, the fruit trees, and the wild lavender made the natural world seem closer than before. I can't wait to get out there again!

Bread

At the risk of sounding like I do nothing in Beirut but eat, I wanted to comment again on how impressive the local and organic food situation is here. Between the Souk El Tayeb on Saturdays, the "Healthy Basket" Thursday sales of organic produce and dairy from AUB's agriculture projects, and a great little restaurant called Auntie Salwah's, it is wonderfully easy to eat fresh, local, organic foods in season.
 
As compensation for my pedestrian, bagel-centric weekday diet, I had takeout from Auntie Salwah's for lunch today. At Auntie's there is usually one meat dish and several vegitarian choices. My favorite is to get a plate full of four or five different vegetarian dishes. Today's options included roast cauliflower, a lentil and rice salad with carmelized onions on top, roasted eggplant, some sort of tomato and garbanzo bean dish, and stuffed grape leaves. At the counter, I just pointed at the things I wanted and one of Auntie's workers scooped them into a container for me, garnished it all with a giant radish, and added a few pieces of flatbread. It was easily enough for two people, and only cost about $5.50. There were flyers at the counter about diabetes awareness, and the restaurant doesn't allow smoking, which is unusual here.
 
In other food news, I walked down to the bakery this morning to get a week's supply of bagels and saw a new book for sale on the counter. I've been trying not to accumulate too many books while I'm here, but this one I couldn't resist. It's called "From 'Akkar to 'Amel: Lebanon's Slow Food Trail." The blurb on the jacket reads: "Join us on a fabulous trip to discover Lebanon's traditional foods. From the volcanic plateau of 'Akkar to the rolling hills of 'Amel, through the snow-capped mountains of Lebanon and the fertile Biqa' plain, this book offers a unique opportunity to explore Lebanon through its people, land and food." Well! All I can say is that I'm really eager to get out of the city a little bit and see some of the countryside where all this amazing food is grown.
 
The book contains several intriguing recipes, including one for a flatbread called "mishtah el jreesh" that is traditional to south Lebanon. The book says: "The name 'mishtah' derives from the Arabic word 'ishtah' or 'to flatten' and refers to the characteristic flatness of the bread." "Jreesh" is cracked soft wheat. The recipe caught my eye because of its association with the Women's Cooperative of south Lebanon. In the wake of the heavy Israeli bombing of south Lebanon in 2006, a group of twenty women got together to try to use their skills to salvage a little of their region's destroyed economy. With the help of an AUB-sponsored relief project, they now sell their mishtah el jreesh at the Souk el Tayeb and Healthy Basket. If anyone wants the recipe, just let me know--you can make it yourself and think of those women baking traditional bread in their bomb-ravaged village.

Elections

Although it’s hard to believe, it’s been almost a full week now since the American elections. I was hoping to get some cool photos of the candidates’ speeches with Arabic subtitles, but, alas, the satellite cable in my apartment building was (and still is) down. What lousy timing! Consequently, I relied on the BBC World Service on AM radio for most of my election news, supplemented by online speech transcripts and news stories.

I didn’t need a radio to hear the reactions of my students, however. As soon as I opened the door on Wednesday I could hear excited voices and squeals from down the hallway. I knew right away that it was my lively class making all the ruckus. I must say I was a little proud of them—heaven knows Lebanese young adults (which most of them are) have plenty of their own concerns closer to home, but my students showed me that day how keenly interested they are in world affairs. From outside the classroom I could hear them saying “Can you believe it?! Obama’s elected! President Obama! I hope he doesn’t get assassinated!” Given the frequent assassinations that plague Lebanese political life, that last remark struck me as especially poignant. Though I was moved by the students’ excitement and engagement, I didn't want election talk to take over our class time. When they asked me if I was excited about the election’s outcome, I simply told them that I was excited that it was MY class making so much noise that the whole building could hear them. They laughed, and we got down to the business of early American literature. Even though “Bartelby, the Scrivener” was on the syllabus for that day, the work of Phyllis Wheatley--a slave who with the support of her owners published a volume of poetry--was more on the class’s mind, which was fine with me.

While the happiness about Obama’s win seems nearly unanimous among students, Beirutis, and the Middle East in general, I’m told that the Lebanese sectarian fractures will come to the fore very shortly in another election: those for AUB student government. The first inkling that these elections may not be US-style apathy-fests that came when I got the email from the administration asking faculty to refrain from scheduling exams during elections. "Why?" I wondered. I then learned from my colleagues that the different parties involved in student government are just junior versions of the major contenders in Lebanese politics, and that students can be quite impassioned about the election results. In the past, student elections have actually been cancelled in order to reduce the tension. Those elections are coming up during Thanksgiving week; I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, I think it’s safe to say that none of the candidates will be talking about moose hunting or Joe the Plumber. While that should be a relief, it actually makes me a little bit homesick!

(Since I don’t have any cool election-related photos to share, I’ll show you a couple night scenes. Here's some of the folks hanging out on the Corniche on Saturday evening. I tried to photograph the throngs of roller skating, biking, and skateboarding kids, but it was so dark that they all came out blurry.)




(And here is an ancient [Roman?] column sitting outside the museum on campus, with a cat sneaking up on it.)

At the Gym

There has been some reader interest in the workout scene in Beirut, so I figured I would chronicle my Saturday trip to the gym. But before we walk over there, I should first mention that I simply go to the gym on campus. The fashionable and wealthy Beirutis pay well over $1000 per year for memberships at private fitness facilities. In fact, membership to the AUB gym is $1000 for people not affiliated with the university. In a country where that is equal to several months' salary for most people, I find that both scandalous and mystifying: who are these posh gym-goers, and where are they getting all their money? I'll let you know if I find out.
 
I decided to ease into my workout today by first sitting on a sunny bench and reading for a little while. I took a photo of the view from the bench primarily to boast a bit about wearing sandals in November (sorry--I couldn't help it!). While sitting, I was approached by a very sweet and friendly feral cat (whom I did not pet!).
 
Once the sun moved away from the bench, I continued my walk down to the gym. I say 'down' because the gym (known as the Charles Hostler Student Center) is on the lower campus, which means it is downhill from the part of campus where my office is. The result is that one must go down a very steep flight of stairs to get to it, and that one must also drag one's tired carcass back up those stairs after the workout.
 
The nice thing about the gym being on the lower campus is that it is close to the sea. Today I decided to spend most of my time on the exercise bike. All the exercise bikes are lined up facing the sea, which means that a pedaling person can look out and watch the occasional barge or sailboat cruise by. It's not quite the same as pedaling the rail trail in Augusta, Maine (with a stop at the Liberal Cup on the way!), but it is a pretty nice setup nonetheless.
 
During the week there are some group fitness classes, including a little bit of step aerobics. The step aerobics here is faster than in the US, with a devil-may-care approach to student safety. (An example for step fans: for instance, the instructor will cue a full reverse [i.e. turning completely around on the step] with music of 130 beats per minute or more). I actually like the Beirut spirit of it--what's a little danger?! It is also neat that the two instructors I've had speak Arabic, but cue in English, so I can understand them.
 
A note on dress: Most of the women dress in the same sort of workout gear as in the U.S., though I have seen some women in headscarves on the treadmill or elliptical machines.
 
There are several glass-walled squash courts behind the elliptical machines, and one time a cat wandered in and became transfixed by the ball bouncing around the squash court. It started tapping on the glass with its paw trying to get it!
 
But today there were no cats and no aerobics, just me, the bike, and the sea. When I was finished, I walked outside and up the stairs to the upper campus. On the way, I noticed the citrus trees on campus beginning to bear fruit.
 
Between the citrus trees, the sunshine, and the big, blue Mediterranean, I would say that November is off to a pretty nice start. If only there were some leftover Halloween candy somewhere for this tired and sweaty ex-patriot!