Teaching – Learning – Living – Lebanon 2011-2012

Saturday: 29/4/2012

So I’m on Hamra Streetat about 11:40 with a mission. I’ve just been dropped off by a loquacious cab driver. I was on my way back from  Bourj el Bourajni and my weekly English lessons with my Palestinian gals. The driver had taught me a few new words, one of them being “bickup”.  I heard it as b-cup. He had pointed to a smallish truck as he said bickup. It was 10 minutes after he dropped me off before I remembered that Arabic doesn’t have the “p” sound and my one brain cell got it: pickup.  Quite the linguist, huh? Anyway back to my quest. One of my colleagues has a small cake business that she started a few months ago, mostly takes orders on line. We found out that a local coffee house, one that I must admit, with some embarrassment, that I did not know about was selling her confections. I’ve only tasted her carrot cake and I figured that I’d like to sample her stuff, in the small portions served in the bistro. However, I could not find it. It was supposed to be behind the Starbucks on Hamra. Starbucks is part of a courtyard that has various stores, but I did not see a coffee shop. I went  looking for it on the second floor and found a bar (there’s a lot of them) but no barista. So I found my way back downstairs and called Linda and asked for help, she gave me some suggestions. As it turned out I was blithely standing right beside the place as I was talking with Linda, that pesky brain cell again. In my defense it was completely nondescript, no signs, no nothing. Linda, in her infinite wisdom, helped me find it later that day.

At that point I was frustrated. I’d told Linda I was on my way home. About 20 meters down the street I looked up and saw a sign on the second floor of one of the buildings. It said “Olivera’s,” with a coffee cup superimposed above the word. I’ve seen it before, however I thought to myself this might be the place. After all it was close to Starbucks, so up the stairs I went .The second floor was sepulchral. I wasn’t moving and I could still hear echoes. I saw a sign (with arrow) for Olivera’s and walked in that direction. I walked into an empty room, with all the windows open, with two very bored waiters idly sitting in chairs. When they saw me they immediately jumped up and rushed to me as if I were the reincarnation of Prime Minister Kararri. Actually I’m sure that they were bored out of their minds and I was an unwitting diversion. I ordered a double espresso, and took a quick look around. This “new” coffee shop that I had been looking for supposedly had a small browsing library, there was no library in sight. The unctuous hosts ushered me to an overstuffed chair and all but shoved me down into it. Two minutes later one of my captors, I mean hosts, came to my table with a small bottle of water like it was a vintage bourdon.

He grandly poured water into a small glass at my table. I was surprised that he didn’t have me smell the water’s bouquet.  I was thirsty, so drank the entire glass in one gulp. I made the mistake of attempting to pour myself another glass of water, wrong move. The gentleman swooped down on me like a hawk on a hapless small mammal.  He grabbed the water nearly out of my hands and once again poured the water into my empty glass. He was telling me in so many words that he had a job to do, damn it, and it was pouring my water.  The espresso came a minute or two later. It tasted like strong Nescafe. I asked for milk (haliib) in Arabic.  I thought that he understood, he didn’t, so no milk. In his defense I’m sure that my pronunciation was lousy. I finished most of the coffee and the water. I was actually allowed to pour the last bit of water into the glass by myself. When I got the bill it read 10,000LL, about $6.30. The water, which I didn’t order was part of the bill, it cost $2,000LL.We get 20 liter jugs of drinking water for $6,000LL, so the 500ml bottle of water was on the dear side. I was getting ready to leave when the other waiter got my attention. He had a plate, on which was a glorified brownie, artfully covered with chocolate and caramel sauce and a dollop of whipped cream on each corner of the plate. It was gratis so I sat down and ate. It was the best thing about this rather peculiar experience. The brownie was quite tasty. It was definitely not the right place.

Anyway let me leave you with a shout out for a really good Beirut diner. Beitrutians seem to like American style diners. I’ve never been much of a fan of diners, but for this particular one I will make an exception. Jim, a colleague from ACS, recommended it to Linda and myself. It was with in walking distance(10 minutes) of our apartment. The place is small and looks rather seedy, in a good way. It definitely has a greasy spoon feel. I kept expecting John Belushi to come out yelling, “cheeseburger,  cheeseburger!” It’s called “Hanis”. Once we ordered, we found out that they did not take credit cards. So I rushed out looking for an ATM machine. I got back within 15 minutes with money. A few minutes later we got our food. Zo and I had boneless grilled chicken, slaw, vegetables, garlic sauce and really yummy fresh fries. The whole dinner was great.

So anyway the next time you are in Beirut, on the Corniche near the Ferris Wheel with ready Lebanese Lira in your pocket, find the Lamb House and look up the street a couple of doors. Look for a red tiled awning with Arabic and English script, that’s “Hanis” Enjoy!

April 21, 2012

I’m sitting at Gloria Jeans. It’s an upscale Barista. Now I know that I’ve always preferred a Bohemian, slightly dirty dissolute look about my coffee houses, but I also have that very American curse of not wanting to wait long for anything.

On the very first morning that we awoke in Beirut Linda and I went to the Café Younnes. Upon Arrival at the Beirut airport I had asked Phil (remember Phil of the Bourj photos?) if there were any coffee shops close to where we were staying. He had waxed eloquent about Younnes. So jetted lagged and coffee starved we found ourselves sitting in plastic chairs, at a round table in the outdoor part of the café. As a matter of a fact boku, if you read this, I sent you my first Beirut e-mail on my kids’ i-pad that crazy morning. You could say that physically I was in Beirut but my mind hadn’t really caught up yet. I was overwhelmed and hypersensitive to everything around me. About 10 meters from where I sat was a sewer grate with the strong odor of raw sewage wafting its way to my troubled nostrils. Whiner you might say and you’d be right but at that moment I was very much an “innocent” abroad. A tip of the hat to Sam Clemens. Anyway the international, ubiquitous aroma of espresso snapped me back into the real world. It was bitter, black and thick, can’t beat it. The only drawback, and of course on the first morning it made no difference, was the wait time… a long time. I know that “when in Rome,” etc. …cool, but generally I don’t like waiting too long for food or drink. In other aspects of my life I’m much more patient, when it comes to food or drink sooner is better. I will often forego a nice sit down meal for something less nutritious if it is speedier. Another problem with Younnes are opening hours. Gloria Jeans opens every day at 7:00AM. It’s convenient and friendly, and the employees for the most part are understanding of my sparse and well mangled Arabic. On the other hand Younnes opens at 8:00AM, seems like bankers hours to me, and … they take their time. I think that it’s in their contract. If you were to read a convoluted Middle Eastern novel such as Durrell’s “Justine”, you would definitely find Darley and his fem fatale Justine trysting and conspiring to their heart’s content at Café Younnes. A place that just drips with Barista atmosphere, but it takes too damn long.

I’ve written all this previous folderol to say this: although philosophically Younnes is the place to go, practicality and habit has turned me into a Gloria Jean’s regular. However, I still buy all my espresso bulk coffee at Younnes.

Okay that’s my bit for today. I will try to write more often. See you!

Here is the last bit about kid’s day at Bourj el Bourajni. If you are new to the “camp” story read the three most recent posts in reverse order: parts I,II,III

So now I’ve described the courtyard earlier so let’s jump right into the action. Since I forgot his actual name I’ll call the Educational Specialist organizer Samer. He and his group of helpers were already there, along with the 50 or so young participants all sitting on parts of the 7or 8 centimeter lip that ran the perimeter of the courtyard, looking at us, the new arrivals, with a combination of curiosity, anticipation and wariness. They were a rag tag group of kids, between the ages of 7-12, excited and anticipatory. The trash bags full of gifts that we had brought, along with a pile hulu hoops, were all laying at the empty end of the courtyard.  The children were eyeing the stuff hungrily. I don’t usually do this, however, I decided to get the ball rolling so I walked over to the kids and started “high fiving” them one at a time. First the boys, who reacted to me with energy and, at least to my hand, painful enthusiasm and then the girls, who weren’t sure at first but soon took to it as ducks to water. My colleagues were right behind me. One of the high schoolers grabbed a soccer ball and ran into the middle of the courtyard with it. Instantly, like filings to a magnet, the kids flocked to the ball. Thus began a strange amalgam of a game that combined the rougher aspects of soccer, American football, rugby, WWF wrestling, eye gouging, kidney punching and general mayhem. Who ever held the ball was fair game. Our high school helpers, very much active participants, were treated with the same deference with which everybody else was treated, meaning none! There were loose and fluid groupings of allies that threw the ball to each other in near panic as they were being swarmed. The delighted attacks on the ball carriers made a rugby scrum look like a well -mannered corporate meeting.  As most of the boys, and some of the girls continued playing “destroy the person carrying the ball” game the rest of the girls found the hulu hoops and began using them. This whole frantic explosion of energy went on for 10 or so minutes while Samer and his group were discussing the order of events. There were five of them, including Samer. While the kids were insanely acting out the random motion of atoms at a high energy level our planners were calmly mapping out the battle plan.

Finally, they were done and Samer walked out into the mob. Like the Red Sea parting the kids moved aside as Samer walked through. Samer, like a combination of Napoleon and your favorite camp councilor, put his hand up and in commanding Arabic called for everyone’s attention. Within moments the courtyard was quiet. Samer explained that the children would be divided up into 5 groups. There would be a rotation of each group to each activity. I, and a high school student named Sarah were in charge of the standing long jump. Our activity was on the porch. Two 150cm tape measures, laying parallel to each other, with about 50cm between them, were taped to the marble floor of the porch. Another piece of colored tape ran between the two measuring tapes connecting the 0cm marks: the starting line.

Before I describe my event let me document the activity played in the area directly in front of us.

It was a game of “free” soccer kick. You know when a player gets a card for some major infraction and the opposing team gets one kick on goal, goalie against kicker? This was the game the kids played, and they played with gusto and at a distance of maybe 3 meters. The sacrificial lamb was the goalie. The “strikers” were kicking with the energy, if not the focus of a player on a World Cup final’s team, whose successful kick would win the cup for Lebanon. I’m not saying that every kick was on goal, not quite. The balls were all over the place, no more than 50% got within the “net” area, but man did they kick that sucker.  A group of two or three boys did most of the goalie chores, and they fiercely defended their area. They caught hard kicked ball after hard kicked ball without a whimper. The kickers gave, and the defenders asked for no quarter. You could hear the loud “thwap” of ball on unprotected belly flesh as the balls were caught. Finally that group got done and they headed over to the standing long jump area.

Sarah was the marker. She wrote down the distances of each jump as I measured and called out the distance. When I say measured I estimated the distance of the body part, usually a heel, closest to the starting line, although sometimes it was a butt if they fell backwards. We would usually do it again if they fell back. They would stand at the line, making sure that their toes were behind the starting point; bend their knees and launch themselves as far as they could go. This particular group, mostly the older boys, jumped from about 90-142cm. Samer showed up just as we were finishing to get the longest jump for that group. Sarah and I felt that 142cm should be the longest for the afternoon. We were wrong. Several other groups cycled through and many of them got close, but no cigar. The best was to come a bit later.

Next was the hulu- hoop race. The boys and girls lined up in same gender groups. The object was to run down the length of the courtyard to the other end, where there were two hulu-hoops. A boy and girl would start at the same time. Once they got to the other side they needed to take one of the hulu-hoops, drop it over their heads and let it fall around their bodies to the ground, step out of it and race back to their group and the next person would race down and the process would repeat itself.; the first group who cycled through all their players won. The boys won twice, but just barely.

Then two soccer matches, boys against girls in squads of 6 or 7, with one high school player as a ringer per side.  You know what? The girls won both matches and let me tell you, the girls let the boys know it.  The girl packed up and began chanting in Arabic, getting in the boy’s collective faces.  They would not give the boys a break. I felt sorry for the boys, for about a minute. It’s a man’s world here and it’s nice to see the girls get the upper hand for a change.

While the football game was going on my colleague Nick was over at the long jump area with a bunch of girls. One girl stuck out. I wandered over to watch. One child, a not very tall, or particularly athletic youngster was jumping at about 152cm over and over, well no more then 3 cm either way. She had no training of any kind and I would bet she had little if any props from anybody for much of her life. She got props from us though. She was great and kept jumping and jumping, trying to better her jump. She didn’t but she had huge heart.

The day ended with prizes for everybody and drinks (juice) for all. I have rarely been so privileged as to work with these children.  They are cool and life is not easy for them, at least it was for a couple of hours on March 31, 2012.

Take care gentle readers

Part II of my adventure.

Infomercial: Let me give you gentle reader a quick Palestinian Camp 101 primer about conditions in this particular neighborhood.  This camp was founded in 1948. It is built on a square kilometer of land.  There are 25,000 or so people living in piss poor conditions, so tightly packed that it would give a canned sardine, a sense of claustrophobia.  I mean Theseus and his ball of yarn would get lost in this maze of a place. The electrical wiring, looking like Medusa on a bad hair day, hangs very much in the open and down low. So low in fact that I have to often duck so as not to get tangled or electrocuted. Last year 12 children died as a result of electrical encounters of the fatal kind. This one square kilometer area is not safe or healthy or conducive to remotely any kind of normal childhood. No matter, these children are raised here. There is no open space, no place to do the things that kids will do. Well that’s not exactly true.  They will do the things that kids do but in these crowded dirty narrow alleyways. I hope to send some pics, that my friend and assistant principal Phil W, took of the alleys that pass for roads in the actual living areas of the camp. I think that one can walk maybe 2 abreast down these pathways. Motorbikes do go up and down the alleys, competing for space with the pedestrians. The apartment doors face the alleys.  When I say doors, I mean door -frames, looking into the living spaces. Little stores are fairly common every several doorways, with food, sundries, fruit and vegetables for sale.

The entrance road that I come into camp from is rather wide and teeming with life. It’s ironic but people, no matter the difficulty with which life presents itself, make due in interesting and creative ways. I think that these wider busy roads frame the entirety of the camp. Anyway as you walk from the Old Airport Road, working your way into camp you look on the left side and you see some fenced in empty ground, much of it covered in trash.  A bit further and back some on the left you will see a tall narrow minaret, topped with a blue oval traditional cap.

On the right stands a series of stores of various kinds. The apex store in my humble opinion is a roasted nut store. Beside it is a nut roastery that roasts, not fries , all varieties of nuts . Anyway, you can get an upend selection of nuts for about $20,000 LL- about $13.00 a kilo.

The road is chock a block full of people, energetically going about their business. Pushcarts, motorbikes, cars and bikes jam the road, making it dangerous not to pay close attention.   Venders of fruits and vegetables and electronics and a bunch of other stuff vie for your attention. Often, on my Saturday visits I see, in one shop, some men wrestling a sheep. When I come back the same way, an hour or so later, what is left of the sheep is hanging from a hook, sans head, skin, viscera and part of its legs. I would say that these men are really efficient.  Women, dressed with hajib headscarfs, or fully covered, move confidently thorough the crowd. However, women wearing jeans, no head covering at all, have the same confidence, as they go about their business. These women cover a range of attire and attitude. This is not a monolithic society, these women seem sure of their place in this culture.

One more soap box item and then back to the story. For the most part Palestinians have no rights.  Since they are not citizens, living in a UN protectorate, they may not move freely, nor work freely. Lebanese law disallows a whole list of professions that Palestinians cannot hold. Most of these jobs are white color prestige professions that would guarantee a good standard of living. So for many of the citizens of Bourge there is a metaphorical cement ceiling, cement wall and steel floor that they cannot get past for love or money. So there is a sense of despair and unfulfilled dreams that many here feel. There is a high dropout rate and lots of young men hanging around doing nothing.

Okay let’s get back to Saturday.  I had already done my teaching gig at 10:00 that morning and had returned home, via taxi, for a brief nap before heading back to American Community School of Beirut (ACS) to meet Ingrid her husband Nick, also a colleague; Ray, a parent and UN employee, Phil with his trusty camera, and myself. There were also five high school students, one of who was the son of Nick and Ingrid. We had several bags of prizes for the kids after the day’s events and we needed to get to camp. We were waiting for another colleague, who never showed up, so we got down to the Corniche 15 minutes after our projected departure time of 1:45. Now the deal about taxis is this: Most taxi drivers can smell an American at well over 100 yards, which means that the price jumps at least 100%. I speak a few words of Arabic.  When I say few I mean few, however, I can ask a driver how much and when he replies with an amount only a naive tourist with a metaphorical “ I’m a stupid American so name your price” emblazoned across their forehead I can reply, “way too much.” Sometimes the very fact that I can speak any Arabic at all surprises the driver. The more Arabic one speaks the more negotiating power. Usually I just wave what I’m willing to pay and the driver can take it or leave it.

My taxi group consisted of myself, Nick and Ingrid’s son, and two other students who could speak Arabic. The rest of our large party had already found taxis and were gone. Now sometimes when a driver realizes that I want to go to Bourge they shake their heads and drive away. The Lebanese as a group have a major blind spot when it comes to Palestinians. I may address this topic in another blog in the future. Anyway the first driver said $50,000LL. I guess that he had no interest in going near the camp but if I was stupid enough to pay this bit of creative extortion then okay let’s go. I looked at one of the native speaking high schoolers and laughed out loud. The driver looked insulted and drove away. The next driver accepted my offer of  $12,00LL and off we went. Beirut traffic has to be experienced in order to be believed. No really, explaining it just doesn’t do it justice. We were in gridlock within two minutes of getting into the cab. Now a good driver is one who knows how to beat the traffic, at least sort of. This guy was aces. Cabbies in Beirut don’t get paid by the mile, they get paid a lump sum for the whole trip, so it makes good business sense to get us to our destination as soon as possible and quickly find a new fare, except for the laws of traffic physics, in which no more than one vehicle can occupy the same space at one time. Even though Beirut’s citizens valiantly try to prove this rule wrong. Our man was great. He drove through back roads, down allies; he even backed up 100 meters or so against heavy traffic on a busy road to  take an exit, when he realized that we were heading into a huge back-up. What usually takes 40 minutes to an hour on bus #5 took about 20 minutes against Herculean odds. We arrived at the UN Family and Child Building and the location of Miriam’s office 10 minutes before the others made it. This building is where I do my ESL teaching.

When everybody arrived I assumed that we were going to be taking a bus to some schoolyard with the kids. As it turns out we found ourselves walking through the maze of allies that make up the circulatory system of Bourje Bourajnie.  Phil, ACS’s assistant principle and our photo guy, was walking behind me. We were the last two of our group in line. He pulled out his fancy camera, handed me the stuff that he was carrying and began taking pictures. The folks of Bourje are mighty shy of picture taking.

You’ve got to be really careful about who or what you put into the magic box. I’ll put two or three pictures in this little article to illustrate my point about the maze (not now however, pics later, words now).  After about 15 minutes of claustrophobic movement through congested pathways we broke free into some semblance of openness. You could at least see the sky unimpeded by layers of electrical wiring and walls closing in like hungry jackals. Across the street was our goal: the UN Girls School. Let the games begin!

Hope to get the last part in tomorrow,

regards: mccarthy

Yeah this piece was begun on the 1^st, however it has been a work in progress.

Actually I’m not done yet but we’re going to part this story in serial form, enjoy…

April 1, 2012

Picture this: a school courtyard surrounded by walls that go up maybe 3 meters.

Bullet riddled apartment complexes, seven or eight levels high, encircle the yard and its school, like complacent recently fed vultures, idly looking down on a beautiful spring day. The yard belongs to a UN girl’s school. The schoolyard is very plain. It’s maybe 30 by 20 meters and would definitely not make it into a photo shoot of “Better Schools and Courtyards”. There is an edge, maybe 20 centimeters wide, which runs around the entirety of the playground wall. The purpose of which is for sitting. There is a small portico and a corner staging area with a corrugated metal awning to keep out the sun’s intrusive presence on hot days, which run from mid-April through mid-November. On each of the long ends of the yard is a rectangular metal pipe frame that serves as a soccer goal post area and as all -purpose “climb on it “bars. Now why the long description of this particular school playground? Okay let’s go back some.

It was a dark and stormy night… well not really, it was a beautiful beyond words spring day in Beirut in the Bourge el Bourajnie (sp?) Palestinian Camp. I have been going to the camp on a semi-regular basis for the past several months to do ESL work with what began as a group of adolescents, now mothers who want to improve Basic English skills. I take the # 5 bus for 1,250 Lebanese lira, about $0.80 to the camp and spend an hour working with the ladies and then take either the bus or a taxi back home to Manara. Nick B., my son’s history teacher, is the one who gave me the opportunity to work at the camp. He is majorly involved with various programs at the camp’s UN building that deals with family and child matters. The reason I was at this particular schoolyard on this particular Saturday was because Nick and Ingrid, a teaching colleague of mine at ACS having been working with Miriam, the overall coordinator of family and child programs at our camp plus eight other camps. They, together, have been doing various things related to family education. A friend of Miriam’s , a Palestinian education specialist, who figured that it should be a high priority to get these children off their butts, prompted this particular initiative.

This is only a tease. Tomorrow I’ll send the second installment

Well we’re having a great Christmas break. We were able to buy a fake Christmas tree for not too much money, and we’ll be able to use it again next year here. The real ones that we saw cost $100 US dollars for a 5 foot one, not in the budget. We had a lovely Christmas morning here and made cinnamon rolls and shared them with neighbors, like we used to do back in Lansing. Kids opened presents and we played games and watched a movie.

Dad also came to visit us on his way to Kolkata for a three month stay.  He’ll be helping Sister Cyril at the Loreto Sealdah school there with her Barefoot Teachers program, training thousands of teachers for India’s new Right To Education (RTE) reforendum which states all children have a right to be educated…so with millions of kids there needs to be thousands more teachers trained…Sister Cyril was asked by the government to assist.  Dad is helping by assisting to create some teacher training videos!

While Dad was here we went on two day long tours around Lebanon.  One was up to the mountains to see the Cedars of Lebanon and the snow! Along with Becharrah and Kozayah our tour info here.  The other one was on New Years Day to the Bekaa Valley to see the incredibly huge roman ruins of Baalbeck.  The excursions were very nice and included wonderful traditional Lebanese meals.  On dad’s last evening here we enjoyed a nice Indian meal at a local restaurant on the water.  Then he visited school on Wednesday, and even sat in on some of Alex and Zorah’s classes….that all went well and we were very glad to have him here!

Well Zorah, Alex and Linda went off to Tunis, Tunisia for another international swim meet and the kids did very well once again, Alex with six medals, and Zorah with two!  Denny stayed home and had some adventures of his own, as he writes about here….

Guess what? Last night I decided to go hear Jeremey (the band director at school) play at the Gruen, local restaurant. Took a nap; a shower and walked out the door. Got down stairs and into the parking lot and I realized that I had forgotten my money. So I began to walk back and then it hit me, my keys were on the counter in the apartment. I talked, more or less (not much English), to Ayman’s (our building manager) wife and daughter, only to find out that there was no master key. At that point I was at a loss. Visions of “Our Lady of the Street” (a street woman who is sometimes more rational than others) came to mind. Asking her to move over and give me some room on the sidewalk. I knew that I needed to get money and was on my way toward the bank when I had a revelation: MARINA (a woman who helps clean our apartment once a week…NICE luxury)  has keys, and guess what? I did remember to bring my phone with her number conveniently stored in its electronic bowels.

So I went to get money and on my way back down Hamra I decided that I
was hungry. Yes even during a crisis gotta eat. Probably if I were on the
Titanic , ready to get into a lifeboat, I’d probably stop in mid step and say,
“Would you mind waiting a couple of minutes, while I go back to the commissary
and get a  burger? Just be a sec!”

Anyway I ended up at the conveyor belt sushi restaurant. I called Marina, not really expecting her to answer: she did. I
explained my prediciment and asked for her help. She said that she would be
there in about 30 minutes. I did some quick calculations and figured that I had
about 15 mutes to stuff my face and than 5 minutes to get home. 2 minutes later
as I was licking my fingers , after a particular tasty piece of sushi and the
phone rang again. It was Marina and she said that her driver would drop it off in
five minutes. So I madly took my last bite of fish, paid the bill and rushed out
into the craziness that is the night in Beirut. Got back to the place in just
under 10 minutes. Got in the apartment and paid the man, hope he gave some to
Marina,  for their trouble.

Anyway I did make part of the jazz concert.

Well we just finished hosting our first International Swim Meet here at ACS Beirut.  We hosted along with IC – International College Beirut, also a K-12 grade school that is just across the side road from ACS.  It has about 3,000 students, vs. the 1,000 we have. The IC campus is partially adjacent to American University Beirut (AUB), and our campus is partially adjacent to IC.  So we’re all really close.  The pool we used was the AUB pool which is beautiful, six lanes, huge windows out to the Mediterranean – well, across a four lane road…and on the other side big windows out to the soccer field.  There are also nice stands in which the spectators can sit.

I was a timer for the events both days, and really enjoyed cheering everyone on.  Besides the two local teams, we had one team from Lincoln Community School, Accra. Ghana, and one from American International School Cairo, Egypt.  I think all the kids had a blast, swimming, making new friends, cheering on their teammates. It was really a great event, the teams arrived on Thursday afternoon, and stayed with host families here from ACS.  We hosted two young men, Aiman and Moustafa a 9th and a 10th grader from AIS Cairo.  They were both very kind and polite and appreciative.  It became apparent through conversations that their family living situations are very different than ours here, however they were happy and enjoyed our company.

I suppose, like the students were teach, they come from very well to do families that have the means to send their children to this private school.  I thought it was good for them to see, and perhaps later reflect on how their own teachers must live there in Cairo as well.  As we were walking back to school this morning to drop them off with the others for their day excursion and then to the airport, Moustafa commented that he would miss the long walks.  He has a driver and goes everywhere by car in Cairo.  As do most of the students we teach here at ACS as well.  They seem surprised and sorry that we walk to and from school each day, knowing the distance, only about 15 minute walk…they feel that is very far to go by foot.  Ah…everything is relative!  It’s true back in Lansing I always drove to Pattengill from home, when in fact it wasn’t really very far at all.

Well the meet was Friday afternoon for about 3 hours, and then again on Saturday for another 3 hours (ish).  Things moved along pretty well.  Then we went from the pool to the AUB auditorium where medals were given out, and then two big trophy cups were awarded to the visiting teams for participation, very nice!  Alex wound up with 9 medals!  5 gold, 3 silver, and a bronze!  Zorah got 2 silver medals!  I was very proud of them, and their efforts.  We found out that the IC coach also has a swim club that he works with outside of coaching IC, so we might look into that for the kids when the season ends next month.  They are looking forward to going to Tunis in another week and a half for another meet.  I’m not sure how many teams will be at that one, and then one more meet mid December here in Beirut at Lebanese American University.

Parent-teacher conferences were this past week on Thursday and Friday, half days for the kids and conferences from 1:30 – 4:45…they seemed to work out pretty well.  Denny was pleased with how they went and met many of the parents.  We also had a Middle School dance Friday evening…which was a pretty typical dance, DJ, kids running around…dancing in packs….well…..life is good the kids got their grades, and overall things are going well…we need to get Zorah’s math up to speed….but we’re hopeful that will fall into place….life is good…

Alrighty then….have I told you about this incredible service of nabilnet.net?  It is such a wacky thing, in this land of Lebanon where all things are possible.  A school colleague told me a while back about this, and I had lots of other things on my mind, so I let it go…well since then I had a chance to check it out.  You can go to the site onthe internet and you’ll find lots of different TV shows listed there.  You’re not sure what you do, how you get them, but it lists shows and seasons, etc.  Somewhere there, I think a “contact us” tab has a phone number…

So, I called the number and I asked about what Zorah’s been missing most, NCIS…they have this seasons shows.  He said there were six of them, and that they could put four of them on one DVD and the other two on another DVD.  I was thinking that I would come and pick them up from somewhere in a few days, or …. well I didn’t know.  He said okay, someone will drop them off….well alright.  I’m thinking they’ll be left with the concierage during the week….but NO!! Get this…”He’ll come by in about 30 – 40 minutes!”  Wowie zowie….just like that! Only 5,000 LBP which is about $3 US per disk, delivered to your door in 30 minutes…just like Dominoes?!  But way cheaper and less filling!

So…we have watched those episodes…we made them last for a few days anyway….Zorah was very happy.  They don’t have Dr. Who for Alex, but we’re trying to download that on iTunes.  Life is good, we’re enjoying our new place lots….we’ll have to take some photos and post them.

I’m also trying to work our doing a videoconference with our band and Pattengill’s band…hoping to ge that accomplished in the next week or two.  The International Swim Meet that ACS is hosting is this coming Friday and Saturday.  We’re looking forward to that, along with a middle school dance on Friday evening….

Two other quick Beirut snipets…Denny and I went to a local watering hole on Thursday and they had tables out on the front patio, so we had a seat there.  We ordered our drink and it was taking a while for the waiter to place it, and then a truck came on the street and was honking…we noticed that he couldn’t get by because there was a car double parked there….soon enough the waiter goes in and out and then jumps in his car and takes off…it was the double parked one!  He’s gone for quite a while, I go in and get our drinks from the bar itself….after a while more he comes back, having finally found a parking spot close by…..ah beirut!  Denny then ordered his burger and fries….which were quite yummy.

The other thing I did yesterday was to take a bus to the “City Mall” a very large, very typical American style mall with lots of shops and escalators.  We had gone there in the first week we were here, but it was on a bus organized  by the school to get us all there to pick up things we might need.  There are two large stores that include items for the home.  We needed air mattresses to host the two students that will be staying with us for the swim meet.  When we asked about where we might find them, it seems that’s an oddity for around here…finally someone had a vague memory that they saw them out at that mall..hence the trip out there.  Well…the bus only costs 1,000 LBP which is about 33 cents…great price!  Versus a cab ride for about $20.  It is a ways out…however it took about an hour and twenty minutes on the bus to get there.  At the start of the bus ride it seemed that one could walk faster than the bus was going…some folks here call it “trolling” for passengers…just like fishermen do.  Then after about an hour and more real traffic the driver picked up speed quite a bit, then I almost missed my stop!  I could see the mall on the other side and although he knew I needed to get out I think he forgot, then some passengers heard where I needed to go and they all called for him to stop and then were telling me how to go back a bit and walk over the foot bridge across the big road to get to the other side.  Ah…the Lebanese people are so friendly and willing to help.

I did find the air mattresses and all was well…I even picked up some more of the dishes we had gotten when we first got here…since I was out there.  I wound up getting a cab back for just $13 which I decided wasn’t bad with all my bags, and it only took about 15-20 minutes…he was pretty speedy zipping in and out of the cars…but I made it home safely, and we’ll have the beds for our visitors.

Life is good.

Well we moved to a new apartment this past Friday and it is great!  We have two showers here and our water is now FRESH!! It feels so good to have a fresh water shower.  It’s also quite a bit bigger with nice big windows!  It’s about the same distance from school, a little closer to the mediteranean.  We’ve had a nice break, and it feels good to settle in to the new place.  The ACS guys helped us get our things from the other place over here, we still need some more furniture for the living room area, but it’s good enough for now.

Zorah and Alex have been swimming over the break at the American University pool keeping in shape for their first meet November 18th.  We’ll be hosting a couple of students from other teams that will be coming for the meet.  We still need to find an inflatable air mattress or two….they’re harder than you might think to find.  I thought about bringing a couple with us, but in the end didn’t and so now we’re on a mission.

Alex went out yesterday to see a movie with some friends and got himself there and back on his own. I was very proud of him taking that step on his own….he, Denny and Zorah also all got their hair  cut yesterday.  I still need to…..everything is a process.  We have a couple more days off in November and then Christmas break…so I’m feeling less stressed and moving to this place has been good.

Zorah and I are watching Gilmore Girls on DVD that we checked out from our local video store…..life is good….