Came home late last night on a flight from Amman, we got to the Amman airport hours early to avoid the possibility of getting lost, and to make sure the car we rented made it back where it belonged. Somehow something was "open" and drained the battery at the Dead Sea, and fortunately I tried starting the car in the morning, found it dead, and managed to get the help I needed from the staff - they of course found the humor in it, some white guy without a clue, though I did have a clue, and the phone number of the rental guy should things go really south - and we charged the battery in the blazing white heat of the dead sea, while the girls lounged in their own heat, in the dead sea and by the pool. We were sure we needed to leave by 5 to make the 9:15 from Amman, so charging the battery was good, and it lasted, though we didn't. Too much luxury it turns out, all of us a little tired of being waited on, so we left, drove north along the shore toward Amman, through the last of the open desert and the Bedouin camps set up with truck and tents and water somehow. Arrive at the airport hours early, shed the car and wait. I found an open wireless network in the AirPort, which was interesting. Cruised around a little, not much to say. By the time the flight was called, an hour before takeoff the AirPort was bustling with wandering folk from all over, through the biggest Duty-Free zone I've ever seen. Beer and cigarettes, toys and watches and perfume, clothes, CDs, jewelry, whatever. By now we're all so tired of buying we don't even look, except at the monitor, and the flight is right.
We arrive in Beirut and catch the most charming taxi back home, getting here around midnight, all of us healthy but tired, looking forward to nothing but church bells and calls to prayer on a Sunday morning. And this morning wake late to just that, and the brown dove on the balcony, as the horns starting to honk through the sound of water splashing off balconies onto the street filtered trough the haze of exhaust, saltwater evaporation, and blow-back from countless air conditioners. Everything is quite this Sunday. People seem relaxed and ready to continue. The cab driver last-night let us know this is no different than any other time in Lebanese history, "so forget about it...this country will go on." There is calm here and the hope for more calm, so please worry not, we are fine here and things are fine here.
Today we're looking at chores - things to keep up busy, and what we'll do this week. I called Deirdre, one of the hosts of this huge ACS reunion, and let her know we're still in town. We'll get together with she and her husband later this week to tell tales and fill prescriptions. Elise and Phoebe so want to explore the Beiruti nightlife, we'll figure that out too. This week we plan to travel to Bcharré, Kahlil Gibran's village in the north of Lebanon, near the large Cedars, the last of the "Stand of God," the largest cedar trees left of the endless forests ravaged by the peoples whose ruins we've been looking at all over this part of the world. Everyone used the Cedars to build their mighty things. And we've been thrilled by their remains.
But now, I watch the endless circus of traffic on Sadani Street, 10 floors below. Intertwining one way roads and alleys, periodically ignored and driven down any-which-way, especially today, with many of the metal awnings of businesses shuttered against the afternoon heat. And the fact that it's Sunday. Even in this predominately Muslim part of town, today's a day of rest and calm. And the girls are calm, resting, napping, and hardly interested in going out. Me, I'm interested in resting too, but also in going out, looking at everything there is to look at, and there is plenty. It's a short walk to the sea, to the Corniché where venders sell coffee and bread. Soon the heat of the day will pass, and folks will show up outside, basking in the truce everyone believes is the wave of the future. Inshala. Sometime i'll try and fill in the rest of the stories we've been living.
(New photos @ Petra?DeadSea. More photos later...)
Comments