Feliz Navidad

While New England was blanketed in snow, Beirut got lashed with sheets of Christmas Eve rain. On Tuesday, the surf on the AUB beach was crashing like I'd never seen it--breakers sending sea spray way up into the air and wetting the wide, empty Corniche sidewalk. The high surf and windy conditions must have been harbingers of wet weather, because Christmas Eve was pretty soggy. At one point Jeff and I donned our hiking pants and rain gear for a little stroll along the Corniche. Just as we reached the seaside, it started to downpour. Between the wind and the rain, we were both completely soaked in seconds, so we acknowledged defeat and headed back home for a couple bottles of 961 beer (Lebanon's only microbrew, named after the country's telephone prefix) and some stir-fried local chicken.
 
A couple nights ago, though, the weather was conducive to a walk downtown. All the downtown shops were decked out in lights and glittery decorations. As we strolled through Martyr's square, we noticed that there was a brightly-lit Christmas tree across from the big blue-domed mosque (Jeff took the above photo). We also spotted a sign for "Santa's Village" outside a white tent. We ducked inside and found pretty much what you'd expect to find in the U.S.: lots of little kids lining up to sit on Santa's lap, popcorn for sale, and tables where weary parents could sit and sip coffee. At one end of the tent was a stage where a group of cheerful little girls in santa hats bounced around and danced to "Feliz Navidad." Of all the languages I hear daily in Beirut, this was the first time I'd heard Spanish. As we turned to leave we walked past a group of kids and adults buying manouchi (flatbread sandwiches) warmed on the dome-shaped saj grill. When we got back out into the open air we could see the mosque and the Christmas tree both lit up against the night sky. 
 
Santa, a saj, a Christmas tree, a mosque, and perhaps even a lawn gnome--just a few of the things one can see at Christmastime in Beirut. It's almost enough to make me forget to miss the snow!

Gifts

Tis the season for holiday decorating here in Beirut. There are blinking Christmas trees everywhere you look. The other day I saw a woman in a traditional Muslim headscarf leading her little boy by the hand as he proudly wore a big cardboard Christmas tree on his head. The fancy hotel where I spent my first four days in town has an interesting little display out front. They have a model of a rustic-looking cabin surrounded by fake snow, with animals lying down outside of it. At first it looked like a manger scene, but upon closer inspection there is no Mary, Joseph, or baby Jesus. Instead, inside the cabin is Santa, and outside the cabin, hanging out with the model sheep and deer, are a bunch of lawn gnomes! It is a perfect Beirut holiday decoration--nondenominational and slightly surreal.
 
On another merry note, I got a phone call at work on Friday from a frazzled-sounding delivery man saying in that I had flowers to be delivered. After explaining to him where I was, and after explaining that I could not just go and pick them up because I was meeting with students, he eventually found his way to my office bearing a huge, lovely poinsettia arrangement in a basket. I was so surprised and excited to see them. Upon opening the card, I saw that they were from my Auntie Wendy and Uncle Paul and their sons in Pennsylvania. How nice to know that they were thinking of me from so far away. After the delivery man politely refused to accept a tip, he started to leave my office. At the threshold he turned around and said, very slowly and carefully, "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!" as though he had been practicing that phrase for weeks!
 
Of course, Christmas and New Year are not the only important holidays this time of year. Winter Solstice is upon us, which means that the days all get longer from here on out, which sounds to me like a good reason to celebrate. Jeff and I celebrated Solstice eve last night by taking a stroll through the neighborhood and having dinner at a tiny little pasta restaurant with checkered tablecloths. It was a nice change from all the Lebanese food we'd been eating, and it also provided an opportunity for me to show off my new Solstice necklace in public. Before we left, Jeff handed me a festively-wrapped little pouch that rattled when shaken. He told me that he'd made my Solstice gift himself, which had me wondering what it could possibly be. When I opened the pouch I found a beautiful string of painted wooden beads on a black satin cord. In between the beads dangled three charms that were attached to the cord with silver wire. The middle charm was the metal plate that had been in Jeff's foot since early 2006, and on either side of it hung the screws that had held it in there. When he had them removed from his foot a few weeks before coming to Beirut, Jeff kept them, cleaned them up, and fashioned them into a necklace for me. I guess he didn't need to worry about whether or not I already had one! I love it, and can't wait to wear it to work.
 
Monday is the last day of class before our nearly three-week long winter break, and it feels festive over here, despite being so far from home. I wish everyone a happy holiday season, and may Santa and his gnomes be generous with you!
 

Lebanon Mountain Trail

On Sunday I awoke early to join a local hiking group for a hike on the first section of the Lebanon Mountain Trail (LMT). As I mentioned in a previous post, the LMT is a long-distance hiking trail that provides visitors with a scenic place to hike, and provides a bit of ecotourism revenue for the local villages along its route.
 
On Sunday we hiked the northernmost section of the trail, up near the northern border with Syria. The trailhead was a three-hour bus ride from Beirut. I had never been north of Beirut before, and thoroughly enjoyed the drive up the coast. We drove through the city of Tripoli, its buildings riddled with even more bullet holes than Beirut's, and through lots of little towns and villages. As luck would have it, Sunday was the day before the start of Eid al Adha, or the Muslim festival of sacrifice. As we got farther outside the city, I started noticing pens of sheep oddly placed in the center of the little towns we drove through. They seemed remarkably docile, and looked very, well, innocent. I then started to notice flayed sheep carcasses hanging from hooks outside little shops all along the way, with little kids and old people alike trimming the fat from the flesh and hosing the blood and fleece into the road. A tangle of traffic stopped us in one little town square just in time for me to witness a sheep getting its throat cut. I must have looked like a visitor on a Denali tour bus watching a grizzly bear--I'm sure my eyes were as big as saucers.
 
We stopped to pick up our local guide at the Mar Challita Monastery in the northern village of Akkar al-Atiqa. The monastery itself was lovely, built with huge blocks that had previously been used in a Roman temple. It honors the patron saint of shepherds, and I couldn't help but think of all the sheep being sacrificed at that moment.
 
We drove a few moments more, and then the bus dropped us off at the trailhead. It was a cool, sunny day, perfect for hiking. The terrain reminded me of the countryside I'd seen in the south on my previous hike: lots of terraced hillsides with crops of different sorts growing on them, and the occasional donkey wandering around. The views were lovely, and we could see Syria, seemingly only a stone's throw away. We hiked past farms, stands of cedar trees, and some interesting rock formations. One profile-shaped rock reminded me of New Hampshire's late Old Man of the Mountain. We even passed a carcass of what looked like a red fox, which are native to Lebanon.
 
We neared the end of our hike just as dusk began to descend around 4:30. A lovely sunset lit up the western sky, and despite the day's warmth, I noticed a dusting of snow on the mountains in the distance. The last stretch of trail took us past what first appeared to be another empty pasture. As we got closer, I spotted...a ferris wheel! Sure enough, a modest little amusement park lay there, abandoned and surreal in this isolated rural outpost. A sign proclaimed that we were strolling past "City Land." What else would one name an amusement park so far from any city!
 
It was just getting dark by the time we reached the bus. As we rolled through the darkness, each village that we passed seemed to have at least one well-lit barbershop where men were getting shaved and trimmed for the holiday. Some sheep carcasses still hung silently from their hooks, though the frantic activity in the villages had ceased. I slept most of the way back to Beirut, which seemed even bigger and more cosmopolitan after my glimpse of the northern villages...and "City Land," of course!
 

Holidays

Even though Thanksgiving came and went with absolutely no fanfare and no time off from work, I am pleased to say that I am heading into a four-day weekend. The long weekend is in celebration of Eid al Adha, or the festival of sacrifice. Eid al Adha comes at the end of the hajj, or the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, which has been going on for a few weeks now. A banner mentioning the hajj appeared near campus a bit before Thanksgiving.

Hajj banner.

Anyway, the al Adha holiday commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son to Allah (the story is a familiar one in the Christian tradition, too), and Allah's last-minute reprieve. Traditionally, the festival is celebrated by the ritual slaughter of a goat or sheep, with one third of the meat feeding the family, one third going to friends, and one third distributed among the needy. While I don't know of any ritual slaughters taking place in downtown Beirut, I will say that there has been a festive atmosphere since the beginning of December, when "Adha Mubarak" (or "Blessed Adha") signs and decorations began appearing around campus.

Adha decorations hanging up on campus.

The loop of green beads on the above sign resembles the Muslim prayer beads I see some older folks carrying. Note the sacrificial lamb in the picture.

I should point out that Beirut has plenty of Christmas decorations, too. Just today I saw some workers hanging red Christmas ornaments on a cedar tree on campus.

If you look closely, you can see the red ornaments on the tree.

I also had a funny Beirut moment last week when I noticed the local grocery store's big display of Christmas decorations for sale. It struck me as slightly odd to see them, as the grocery store does not sell alcohol, pork, or other haram (forbidden) things. As I walked around the store, marveling at the Christmas kitsch, I noticed a woman holding a Santa doll out at arm's length. The woman was in hejab, with a head scarf and a long, modest coat. The Santa doll was singing "Here Comes Santa Claus" over and over, ad nauseam, and the woman stared at it, transfixed. I couldn't tell whether she was horrified by the Christian tackiness, or whether she was contemplating taking it home for her mantelpiece. In Beirut, it could have gone either way.

Whether you're slaughtering a goat this weekend or still working on your turkey soup from last week, I wish you a festive start to the month of December!

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!