Facade Deco

Not long ago I mentioned that there are loads of amazing tiled buildings scattered around Beirut. This one is the first I'll share here.

In a city that is increasingly marked by stone faced, boring monoliths, the pure ornamentation seen here makes me smile.  It strikes me as retro and also kind of awesome.

The last one in Saifi

I've been in and out of Saifi Village a lot in the past few days, and these excursions have taken me past what I expect is the last derelict plot in the neighborhood.

Saifi is a different animal, unlike other neighborhoods in the city. There, the buildings are uniformly charming, recently renovated, newly painted, all roughly the same height, vaguely frenchy. I any other part of the city a roofless, abandoned old house wouldn't draw the eye. But, as I said, this isn't like other neighborhoods. Clearly, this house is ripe for whatever magic wand will wave it into conforming with the rest of the neighborhood.

It's strange. Normally I'd wonder endlessly at its age and history, at scars inflicted upon it during some unknown, tormented past. I'd imagine the life it's already had, the life that has worn it out . . . but not this time. Here, I find myself wondering, much as I would over a newborn baby, what's in store for it. I wonder what it will be when it grows up.

Ready

I pass this building several times every day, but I'd never take a picture of it until now. It's so very unremarkable, normal, and a little ugly.

Life is short and the circumstances of our lives are fragile, transient despite feeling (right now at this moment) that they are quite stable and permanent. But they're not. Change, chance, and fate never hold still. In deference, then, to the truth that someday I will no longer pass this building over and over and over again, to acknowledge that someday I might forget all about it, I've taken a photo in case I ever think to miss it.

And now, I'm ready.

Poetry Cafe

Recently there was a poetry reading at my kid's school. A lot of kids (grades 1-5?) participated, reading their own original poems. There were even some adults; teachers, administrators, parents who wrote poems just for this event. It was great.

Here the crowd listens attentively.

If memory serves, this kid's poem was about chocolate. I was impressed by the quality and variety of the poetry. The kids wrote about their fears, the foods they love, the way the wind feels on their skin, how much they love their closest friends or family, and how much they hate homework. Some were funny and some were touching, some were long and some were short, but all of them made me love poetry on a satisfyingly simple level.

Roots

This morning at Souk el Tayeb, I saw this booth, proclaiming "The Root to Recovery". The sign in the photo begins with the text, "In 1965, 35% of Lebanon was covered by forests and greenery, but in 2007 those numbers dropped to an alarming 13%." Depleted green space is one on a long list of significant changes in Lebanon over the past few decades. 

At the market, they were selling a variety of potted plants. All profits from the sale go to planting trees, to recover some of the lost green space.

Organics

When it comes to food, I feel pretty lucky here in Beirut. Fresh local produce year round (thank you temperate climate!), a culture that favors a vegetable-heavy cuisine, and very reasonable prices at the market are all fantastic aspects of life in Beirut.

And, if you're into organic produce, you're in luck.

There are the farmers markets that take place on various days around town and if you can't make it to one of those, you can find certified organics in the big grocery stores.

And, there's Healthy Basket, a shop in Ras Beirut that will deliver a weekly basket of organic "stuff" to your door--I say "stuff" because in addition to the produce that fills most of the basket, you might also find eggs, grains, etc. thrown in there too. Here's a link to their contact info if you want to sign up for a weekly basket of your own.

If I Had a Purple Wall

If you had a purple wall, what would you do with it?.

Maybe you'd lean a ladder up against it. Or, maybe you'd have an antenna towering over it. Or maybe, you'd sit a huge ruby-red generator out in front of it. I'm just throwing out ideas here. The possibilities are endless.

One of Those Days

Sometimes, what I like best is a clean, simple image with strong lines.  An utterly unambiguous image.

I guess this is one of those days.

Taekwondo Tournament

Both of my kids have Taekwondo lessons. They love it.

Recently they were invited to participate in a tournament that involved several Taekwondo schools from around Beirut.

I was excited about it. Competitions are fun, they're a vital part of learning a sport, and it's just a good experience. But the kids didn't see it this way. They had reservations--deep, sever, serious reservations. There was nothing we could say or do to persuade them that the tournament would be fun, a good experience, something they'd like. They insisted, tearfully even, that they wanted no part of this.

So, instead of forcing them to participate, we attended as spectators. We noted the table covered in medals, and the safety helmets and gloves. Watched as little kids put on their gloves and fought it out on the mat, noting that falling over or getting pushed off the mat resulted in a serious loss of points.

It was pretty cool. There's another tournament in September. Maybe by then the kids will have come around.  Maybe next time, we'll be cheering for one of our own.

The Mail

Some of our family and friends mistakenly believe that there is no mail service in Beirut. They're not entirely correct. See this drop box? It belongs to the Lebanese postal service. And, in theory, if you put an appropriately stamped letter in the box, it will be delivered to its destination.

That's the theory anyway. Over the years, we've had some remarkable experiences with the Lebanese mail. I'll share a few stories:

1. There is no standard residential postal delivery. But, in 2006, a friend who lived in Hamra posted a letter to me in Ain Mreisseh. She used the street name and the name of my building, and listed the floor where I lived. A postman delivered the letter to me within the week. We were both astonished.

2. During the first week of July, 2006, I mailed a baby blanket to my sister for her anticipated newborn. Then, a week later, the airport was bombed and the war started and I forgot about it completely. Months later, October, I think it was, the package arrived at my sister's house. Neither of us could believe it.

3. Last year we mailed children's books about Lebanon and stickers to family and friends. About half of these packages never reached their destinations. This is the same experience we've had with holiday greetings that we've sent by mail. This past season, we opted for an e-card, and that's likely to continue.

Today, bloggers all over the world are posting photos of mailboxes in their city. Click here to view thumbnails for all participants