I saw this short movie by Hany Abu Assad (maker of Paradise Now) last year at a film festival in Beirut, and I loved it.I'm glad to have found it online (and I suggest you watch it in full-screen mode):
Warning: if you ever decide to google something embarrassing, you should know that somewhere, somebody is going to have a laugh at your expense when they see your rather hilarious search-term coming up in their site-statistics. And because I’m not so selfish that I want to keep all the fun to myself, I will share with you some of the recent searches that got people to my blog – and the solutions, if I have any. It seems that many people are looking for stories. Stories about the (Armenian) Mafia, Lebanese wedding stories, Saida stories, stories about the resistance, stories about peace, Oosterhout-stories, or stories about Eid el Fitr-stories… as you can see, I can help you with those.
Other searches are a bit more complicated: maybe one of you can help the people looking for ‘a picture of the head of Imam Hussein’? Or for ‘rulers who have been declared insane’? Who knows where to find information about ‘frequently, the body and face of a beloved person?’?
Search-terms also betray people’s fears and desires: ‘I need a speech for a funeral’ sounds like a cry for help, but I can’t remember ever writing about that. ‘I panic when the phone rings’ is another revealing search for which the answer is most likely not found anywhere on qussa.nl. ‘Doggy-style’ also gets you here, but I highly doubt this is the desired search-result (obviously, the post is about weapons. This is Lebanon, after all). I also can’t help you with your recurring search (yes, yours) for a ‘Lebanese chat’, nor for ‘Lebanese women most beautiful.’ (Are they?)
I did once mention the black men’s bike of the former Dutch minister of Justice, and I also dropped a word or two about Lebanese hairstyles. Need help with your wedding proposal? Look here or here or here. Or here, if you need it to be romantic.
And finally, the most pressing question that you turned to Google for: 'Do Lebanese men like blondes'? I guess they do…
A Dutch friend of mine is doing research here in Beirut about the events of May 2008, and is trying to get an idea of how many fighters were out on the streets in Ras Beirut. She has interviewed quite a few journalists, academics and politicians, and from their words she has concluded that there must have been anywhere between 1 and 1000 armed men on the streets. Anywhere between 1 and 1000. A useful estimate, no?
Not very useful indeed. It’s the one generalization I do not hesitate to make about the Lebanese I know (and, by extension, the Lebanese I don’t know): they have no estimating-skills whatsoever. I understand quite well the desperation of my friend’s mother, director at a secondary school in Beirut, who wanted to hire a teacher just to teach her students how to estimate. ‘Numbers, time, distance, amounts – they have no clue! They think it will take them 10 minutes to drive 40 kilometers; they will tell you it’s only a 5 minute walk from here to Hamra even though it’s 2 kilometers away, and if any political party tells them that they gathered 1.5 million supporters in a certain square or tent, they will only criticize the number because they don’t like the party, not based on the logic that 1.5 million people could never fit in that tent or on that square!'
I have, by now, stopped asking my Lebanese friends what they think something will cost. Fixing a tire? One will say 20 dollars, one will say 50.000 lira, when in reality it once costs between 5.000 and 10.000 LL. How long does it take to get from Hamra to Jal el Dib? The standard answer is 10 minutes… it usually takes me 40 to 45 minutes. I worked all the way in Tyre, South Lebanon, and I can’t recount the number of times I’ve had to refute the idea that it would take me at least 2.5 hours to get there – and another 2.5 to get back (it’s about 80kms).
It becomes especially funny if, when asking for directions, there are no restaurants or gas stations to mark the point after which to go left or right. The person telling you where to turn will try to be helpful and will give you an indication of how long it will take you to get there. And it doesn’t matter how close or far it is, the estimate is inevitably inaccurate, sometimes laughably so. As another Dutch friend living here says: ‘It doesn’t matter whether you have to turn left after 100 meters or 2 kilometers – they will always say it’s 300 meters.’
Did I get it right? Did I manage to get every single myth and stereotype of Beirut into one picture? I would almost think so:
- A church AND a mosque in one shot? Check - An ugly, modern high-rise juxtaposed with an old crappy building? Check - Some reconstruction going on? Check - A bit of nature and (almost) sunset to add a romantic atmosphere? Check
Seems like I’ve got a classic on my hands here.
And for some more ‘we all know what Beirut is like’, head over to this blog: Jad Aoun is handing out ‘Looks Like Beirut Awards'. Brilliant.
It’s not easy for kids in Lebanon these days – so many languages, so many nationalities per person! Yesterday morning, as we were having a late breakfast in ABC-mall in Ashrafiyeh, we were joined at the big table by a family of four; mother, father and two sons of around 4 years old. They seemed to be Lebanese, mostly speaking French, while the mother tried a sentence or two in Arabic with the kids. One of the boys kept staring at me until he decided he needed some answers and turned to his parents.
‘Mom, dad, which country are we from?’ ‘We live in France, and we are from Lebanon.’ ‘Oh.’ He turned back to me. ‘And you, where are you from?’ ‘I am from The Netherlands,’ I answered. ‘To the North of France,’ clarified his dad.
The boy, still wondering about the complexities of different countries of origin and nationalities, brought the discussion on their side of the table to their friend Gael, whose mother was said to be French. She also, it was mentioned, has blue eyes, and eventually one of the sons asked:
‘So when we go back to France, will we have blue eyes as well?’ As if the whole confusion of correlation between language, residence and descent wasn’t enough yet...
