I've been checking out what the women wear here. For example, can I wear a short skirt, short being around the knee. The answer appears to be 'yes' as long as I wear black tights with it. So this is what I do last Thursday on a very warm day. In addition I wear my knee-high black boots. I'm wearing a loose-fitting black top and my leather jacket. I think I'm more conservative than some of the girls here. Not so decide the men in their trucks and cars on the main road by school. I got honked at, whistled at, yelled at. All because, I think, I'm not wearing a headscarf. I get on my service to head home and the driver wants me to sit beside him. I try explaining that I like my seat, this causes a commotion in the bus and the young guy beside me tries to calm the situation.
At last we get to my stop and I jump off as does the young guy. I'm going to the internet cafe, which happens to be closed, so I start walking home. Guys come out of their shops to tell me the internet cafe will open again in two hours. The young guy from the bus magically appears and starts following me around. I eventually tire of him and tell him to get lost which he does not do. He persists in following me around my neighbourhood while I buy groceries and try to lose him. I get to my apartment and make sure he can't see that I'm going upstairs. He's not there, at least I'm sure he's not. I get to my apartment and start telling my roommate about this guy, who is maybe 19 or 20 years old. Ten minutes later my doorbell rings and it's him, standing there asking for my phone number. So I walk out to where he is and give him an earful in mixed arabic and english. I'm yelling "memnua" (forbidden)and a whole host of other words that my neighbours might not like if they understood. I haven't seen him since, I think he's been scared into hiding, as well he should be.
I will NOT wear a headscarf. I know who and what I am and if I have to explain that, OK. Just don't follow me home, you weirdo.
March 26, 2007
March 22, 2007
A Few Days in War Country
last week i had a break from school after exams so i finally headed back to beirut after 4 years. it looks so much like vancouver that it felt like being at home at times. it sits right between the ocean and the mountains and the seabreeze was soooo good to feel and smell again. while i appreciated the cleanliness and a few familiar looking restaurants this is the number one reason why i prefer syria - it's not westernized and feels like i'm in a land far far away. it's very much like arabian nights and that is what i wanted. plus i like the people here better, they are less fractured and complicated. when y'all come visit beirut you'll see what i mean, nothing there is simple in terms of relationships and everyone picks at the other.
hezbollah supporters are trying to get more profile for their party and so there is a huge tent city outside parliament where everyone has been living for a few months now. it was just down the road from our hotel so i took a stroll through it - it was very quiet. it was the second anniversary of hariri's assassination on wednesday and so i think the military were trying to keep things low-key. last time i was there the only military visible were there because of a franco-nation summit which chretien was attending. lots of high-profile political leaders were in attendance so of course security was high, but there weren't any tanks anywhere and people were out and about. this time the city was dead, no people anywhere, tanks and soldiers everywhere, a very different feeling. i asked shopkeepers what was going on and they all said 'it's tense right now, hopefully it will be done by the end of the week' but i got nothing more elaborate than that. they also say they hope the 'situation' is fixed by summer, meaning the syrians are gone and there's a new map of the middle east. i saw this supposed map which is very different and more complex, i think, than the current one. i tried to take a picture of it but the guy who showed it to me hid it under the table and said no one else should see it. secrecy and intrigue makes beirut. i also asked one of the guards who checked my purse one day how he knew for sure there weren't any bombs in my bag as he only looked at the top. he told me that he trusted me, how's that for a very stupid question and benign answer?
i ended up walking everywhere since lebanon is quite a bit more expensive than syria and i didn't want to waste my money on taxis and get marriage proposals from taxi drivers. my feet were killing me by the time i left but i had seen a lot of the city. nowhere near all of it, it's definitely a place i want to get back to and explore a lot more as it is utterly fascinating. the american university of beirut is stunning and the walk along the ocean is beautiful. there were lots of bookstores with english literature so i was able to find a copy of people magazine and catch up on britney spear's sad life. i'm so glad to not have to see that stuff every day. i also found a cinnzeo and stuffed my face with a chocolate cinnamon bun, not as good as mom's of course. you don't see the military after awhile and they leave you alone anyway. the shopping is very upscale and some of the restaurant neighbourhoods rival yorkville in toronto or yaletown in vancouver. i saw at least 2 lamborghinis and there are armani, bcbg, and other high-end stores everywhere. you forget you're in the middle east and think you might be somewhere in france.
it started raining (the last day i was there) the way it does in vancouver and my shoes got soaked through. i was therefore uncomfortable and decided to head back to damascus a few hours earlier. it turned from spring to winter and as we passed through the lebanese mountains on the way back to syria it started snowing heavily. absolutely beautiful but too cold for my little leather jacket. i fell asleep after we passed the syrian border and woke up in damascus with the feeling that it was good to be home. i knew i liked it here but i had to leave for a little bit to confirm that it is actually becoming home.
hezbollah supporters are trying to get more profile for their party and so there is a huge tent city outside parliament where everyone has been living for a few months now. it was just down the road from our hotel so i took a stroll through it - it was very quiet. it was the second anniversary of hariri's assassination on wednesday and so i think the military were trying to keep things low-key. last time i was there the only military visible were there because of a franco-nation summit which chretien was attending. lots of high-profile political leaders were in attendance so of course security was high, but there weren't any tanks anywhere and people were out and about. this time the city was dead, no people anywhere, tanks and soldiers everywhere, a very different feeling. i asked shopkeepers what was going on and they all said 'it's tense right now, hopefully it will be done by the end of the week' but i got nothing more elaborate than that. they also say they hope the 'situation' is fixed by summer, meaning the syrians are gone and there's a new map of the middle east. i saw this supposed map which is very different and more complex, i think, than the current one. i tried to take a picture of it but the guy who showed it to me hid it under the table and said no one else should see it. secrecy and intrigue makes beirut. i also asked one of the guards who checked my purse one day how he knew for sure there weren't any bombs in my bag as he only looked at the top. he told me that he trusted me, how's that for a very stupid question and benign answer?
i ended up walking everywhere since lebanon is quite a bit more expensive than syria and i didn't want to waste my money on taxis and get marriage proposals from taxi drivers. my feet were killing me by the time i left but i had seen a lot of the city. nowhere near all of it, it's definitely a place i want to get back to and explore a lot more as it is utterly fascinating. the american university of beirut is stunning and the walk along the ocean is beautiful. there were lots of bookstores with english literature so i was able to find a copy of people magazine and catch up on britney spear's sad life. i'm so glad to not have to see that stuff every day. i also found a cinnzeo and stuffed my face with a chocolate cinnamon bun, not as good as mom's of course. you don't see the military after awhile and they leave you alone anyway. the shopping is very upscale and some of the restaurant neighbourhoods rival yorkville in toronto or yaletown in vancouver. i saw at least 2 lamborghinis and there are armani, bcbg, and other high-end stores everywhere. you forget you're in the middle east and think you might be somewhere in france.
it started raining (the last day i was there) the way it does in vancouver and my shoes got soaked through. i was therefore uncomfortable and decided to head back to damascus a few hours earlier. it turned from spring to winter and as we passed through the lebanese mountains on the way back to syria it started snowing heavily. absolutely beautiful but too cold for my little leather jacket. i fell asleep after we passed the syrian border and woke up in damascus with the feeling that it was good to be home. i knew i liked it here but i had to leave for a little bit to confirm that it is actually becoming home.
March 10, 2007
The Best Bakery in the World
I finally found loaves of bread! Not Syrian flat bread, pita bread, naan bread, hard and brittle bread, but a real, bonafide loaf of soft, sliced bread. Do you know what this means???? I can eat toast now!!!!! I was so desperate for North American bread I would have gladly eaten stale Wonderbread sent by snail-mail from home. Alison may not be able to live by bread alone, but at least it makes Alison very, very happy.
March 2, 2007
First Visit to the Hammam
WARNING: there may be some content in here that makes people squeamish or they might take offense to. This is my apology for any damage to your mental health.
I'm not a big fan of spas, I think it's a little weird to spend a lot of money for people to slap seaweed on you or massage your face. Nevertheless, the hammam (public bath) is a popular pasttime in the Middle East so I decided to go check it out. I'd been once before in Turkey with a friend - we were the only ones in the hammam and I assumed I might encounter something similar here. Not so...
Arab women have an aversion to hair anywhere on their body apart from the head so I thought I might get my hairy western arms waxed just to see what all the fuss is about. The waxer looked as if she had just emerged from the steamroom, straggley hair plastered against her forehead, old track suit hanging yet clinging to her. A cigarette dangled out of her mouth as she went to work on me, tut-tutting at the state I'd let myself get into. They wax you in public, in front of everyone else who's come in to hang out for the afternoon. The portraits of the former and current presidents hang overhead staring down with creepy grins. They don't use hot wax here, instead it's like a thick paste they rub between their hands to warm up. Then they slap it on you and start ripping away again and again and again. I'm gritting my teeth, the waxer grins and grunts with her cigarette lodged between the gap in her teeth where at least two other teeth should be but have fallen out. She's doing my forearms and then horror of horrors, she moves to my biceps and shoulders. Now I know for certain that I do NOT have hairy upper arms and I try explaining this to her but she is convinced I must be cleansed. Then she starts trying to rip it out of my underarms where the hair is too short. I'm yelling "la la la la" (arabic for 'no no no no') but she must think I'm singing and makes it a mission to get rid of whatever is there. Finally she quits and the next scary lady comes over and grabs my arm to lead me to the next stage of bathing...
She drags me through ancient hallways - this hammam is more than 800 years old - through the steamroom into the large hall where at least 40 women are lounging about in various stages of undress, throwing hot water on each other, washing their hair, and smoking. This is where the women go to meet and talk, I assume they gossip and diss each other out but I'm not sure as I still only understand a few words. Fruits and vegetables do not seem to be a popular topic. I'm led to a smaller room where a young women is sitting with her mother and aunt. They greet me with big smiles and begin to throw water on me. Then one grabs my loofah from me and starts scrubbing my back with man-strength force. After awhile the masseuse comes in to give me a massage. This is no private room with pretty scented candles, Pachabel's annoying Canon playing in the background accompanied by chirping whales, discreet and calm massaging of my back. Instead I'm surrounded by chatty and yelling women, there is no music, the mother is still smoking, and I'm lying on my stomach while she pounds the crap out of my back. I must point out, however, that this is the kind of massage I like, it actually feels like they're doing something. Then she starts yanking on my fingers, I don't know why. Then she pulls out my shampoo and starts washing my hair. It smells nice when she's done but it's also in a billion knots. Then some women from Lebanon try to take over our room and the aunt goes crazy on them. You have to see a 70-something, toothless and topless woman running around tearing strips off people to know that this is not a North American spa. So I took my leave and went out to change.
While I'm towelling off and putting my makeup on, the daughter comes out and we start talking in stilted English and Arabic. Her mom also comes out and soon my purse is stuffed full of apples and oranges, and I'm drinking tea and eating pita with some olive spread on it. I'm clean, smooth from finger to shoulder, I've made new friends, I'm fed, and I think I might just come back, minus the wax job.
I'm not a big fan of spas, I think it's a little weird to spend a lot of money for people to slap seaweed on you or massage your face. Nevertheless, the hammam (public bath) is a popular pasttime in the Middle East so I decided to go check it out. I'd been once before in Turkey with a friend - we were the only ones in the hammam and I assumed I might encounter something similar here. Not so...
Arab women have an aversion to hair anywhere on their body apart from the head so I thought I might get my hairy western arms waxed just to see what all the fuss is about. The waxer looked as if she had just emerged from the steamroom, straggley hair plastered against her forehead, old track suit hanging yet clinging to her. A cigarette dangled out of her mouth as she went to work on me, tut-tutting at the state I'd let myself get into. They wax you in public, in front of everyone else who's come in to hang out for the afternoon. The portraits of the former and current presidents hang overhead staring down with creepy grins. They don't use hot wax here, instead it's like a thick paste they rub between their hands to warm up. Then they slap it on you and start ripping away again and again and again. I'm gritting my teeth, the waxer grins and grunts with her cigarette lodged between the gap in her teeth where at least two other teeth should be but have fallen out. She's doing my forearms and then horror of horrors, she moves to my biceps and shoulders. Now I know for certain that I do NOT have hairy upper arms and I try explaining this to her but she is convinced I must be cleansed. Then she starts trying to rip it out of my underarms where the hair is too short. I'm yelling "la la la la" (arabic for 'no no no no') but she must think I'm singing and makes it a mission to get rid of whatever is there. Finally she quits and the next scary lady comes over and grabs my arm to lead me to the next stage of bathing...
She drags me through ancient hallways - this hammam is more than 800 years old - through the steamroom into the large hall where at least 40 women are lounging about in various stages of undress, throwing hot water on each other, washing their hair, and smoking. This is where the women go to meet and talk, I assume they gossip and diss each other out but I'm not sure as I still only understand a few words. Fruits and vegetables do not seem to be a popular topic. I'm led to a smaller room where a young women is sitting with her mother and aunt. They greet me with big smiles and begin to throw water on me. Then one grabs my loofah from me and starts scrubbing my back with man-strength force. After awhile the masseuse comes in to give me a massage. This is no private room with pretty scented candles, Pachabel's annoying Canon playing in the background accompanied by chirping whales, discreet and calm massaging of my back. Instead I'm surrounded by chatty and yelling women, there is no music, the mother is still smoking, and I'm lying on my stomach while she pounds the crap out of my back. I must point out, however, that this is the kind of massage I like, it actually feels like they're doing something. Then she starts yanking on my fingers, I don't know why. Then she pulls out my shampoo and starts washing my hair. It smells nice when she's done but it's also in a billion knots. Then some women from Lebanon try to take over our room and the aunt goes crazy on them. You have to see a 70-something, toothless and topless woman running around tearing strips off people to know that this is not a North American spa. So I took my leave and went out to change.
While I'm towelling off and putting my makeup on, the daughter comes out and we start talking in stilted English and Arabic. Her mom also comes out and soon my purse is stuffed full of apples and oranges, and I'm drinking tea and eating pita with some olive spread on it. I'm clean, smooth from finger to shoulder, I've made new friends, I'm fed, and I think I might just come back, minus the wax job.
March 1, 2007
Sandstorm
Last Saturday the atmosphere started to get a little manic when a brown haze settled over the city. At first I thought it was pollution but by mid-day the wind had picked up and sand was swirling all around. The drivers were crazier than before, people were edgey, and the billion stray cats in the city decided to come out and sing in unison. That evening I could barely see the green lights of the mosques as I was standing on my balcony and when I went to bed I could taste the sand in the air.
The next morning it started to rain - nice to make everything fresh but think about where all that floating sand is going to go. This is the first time in my life when I didn't wash just the fruits and vegetables I bought at the market, but also my bags of pasta, jars and cans of other stuff. Before now I haven't been a fan of vaccuum wrapping everything but now I get the point.
The next morning it started to rain - nice to make everything fresh but think about where all that floating sand is going to go. This is the first time in my life when I didn't wash just the fruits and vegetables I bought at the market, but also my bags of pasta, jars and cans of other stuff. Before now I haven't been a fan of vaccuum wrapping everything but now I get the point.
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