Holidays

In Khalil Gibran's garden, in Becharre, the Qadisha Valley, in North Lebanon.

I went for a weekend with friends, to clear our heads and enjoy our vacation.  

The area was very Christian, and we were there on Good Friday and Holy Saturday.  And Earth Day! 

We hiked from the top of the valley to the bottom, then back up.  We must have a seen a dozen waterfalls.   We drank hot chocolate under the covers in our cozy hostel.  We wandered in an olive tree orchard and overlooking the trees for a hommos break.  We saw an ancient monastery at the bottom of the valley where the Maronite Christian order was founded.  Fresh air, fresh thoughts.  A lovely holiday.

And today is my birthday!  Twenty one today!   I'm wearing red lipstick, met my friend for a breakfast bloody mary and a delicious omelette at my favorite restaurant, and I'm watching the rain pour into the Mediterranean from inside the library (where I'll be all day working on homework and a paper).  I'm older than Elizabeth Bennet.  This weekend, you'll find me at the beach with my best girls, and kicking around Beirut in my new shoes.

What a good life.

Egyptian women being awesome

Egyptian Women's Organizations Coalition

""The revolution called upon the equality and the social justice for all portions of the society," said Fatima Khafagy, women's rights activist participating in the coalition.

Among the demands of the coalition was the true representation of Egyptian women who participated in the revolution side by side with men.  And that media should focus on women's activities and let be part of the democratic transition process."
                - Article from Bikya Masr

Who is really trying to make their country more democratic?

Got a few links for you...

Egypt revolution youth form national coalition 

From Al-Masry Al-Youm (Egypt Today) - Egyptian Revolution Youth Coalition rejects nomination of Arab League chief

And a link to another blogger's take: Who is organizing Egypt's January 25th groups?

Let's be real about what happened, and is still happening, in Egypt.  This was NOT the Twitter Revolution, not the Facebook Revolution, and it is chilling and appalling to me that so many media sources, not just American and European, Al-Jazeera has been doing it too, would credit as such.  I even remember reading somewhere that "Mark Zuckerberg started the Egyptian Revolution!"  This is the most toxic twisting of truth.  The Egyptian Revolution was from start to finish an undertaking of Egyptians, catalyzed by years of work by organized grassroots youth movement groups that used all the social media available to them.  It should be remembered that the internet was actually down in Egypt for days during the heat of the Revolution, so how could they have been completely dependent on facebook?  Protest locations were spray painted on walls, passed by word of mouth.  People came to Tahrir because that's where everyone else was and they knew that, not because Facebook told them to go there.  People in Suez and Alexandria organized in their own ways, and in fact the use of facebook and twitter in those cities - where the principal violence actually took place - was even less than in Cairo.

The amazing thing about this revolution, and its youthful image, is not that it was a cyber-revolution (so "typical" of our generation) but that it was a revolution without a specific leader, without a man on a white horse leading the charge.  It was the network that was so remarkable.  The six major youth activist networks behind the revolution have now developed a coalition to stay organized and keep communicating.  The revolution, which seemed impossible, has finally happened, but they are well aware that doing the impossible was the easiest part of their job, and now comes the challenge of building the Egypt that they want to live in.  They will do that not through using cute American technologies, but through continuing to use their own ingenuity, creativity, intelligence and courage, just as they did in the Revolution.  

And this article, Young leaders of Egypt's revolt snub Clinton in Cairo, which talks about the coalition's refusal to meet with Hilary Clinton on her visit to Cairo in March casts a kind of negative light on what I think is a wonderfully empowering and clear-sighted, if politically "naive," move on the part of the coalition. They issued a statement refusing to meet with Clinton because of the ambivalent position the US took during the revolution, and especially because of the American government's 40 years of support for Mubarak in return for his support of Israel, to the serious detriment of the Egyptian people. They quote Clinton saying in 2009, that "I really consider President and Mrs. Mubarak to be friends of my family. So I hope to see him often here in Egypt and in the United States."  To quote the words of Ussama Makdisi at an AUB lecture I went to last week, the U.S. is "not interested in democracies in the Middle East, so much as stable, pro-Western, petroleum order."  We "want reform, but the right reform."  The coalition knows they have some power over the US government now - particularly as regards Israel and whatever stance the new government will take on that nation - and they are refusing to bow down and equivocate for money, the way the previous regime did.  

And Sarkozy got what he wanted, and the French parliament passed the law forbidding the wearing of the niqab in public places.  There are a lot of words I could say about this law - xenophobic, islamophobic, racist, undemocratic, hypocritical to the very values it professes to guard.  It makes me so angry that I can barely find words, to be honest.  Democratic governments have no right to regulate the way their citizen dress because of religion.  Imagine forbidding a nun to wear her wimple because it makes people uncomfortable, imagine forbidding a Hasid to wear his hat.
Also, the law forbids the wearing of niqab in public places - forcing women to make the choice between breaking the law or giving up their convictions and beliefs, a decidedly undemocratic choice.  Even more upsettingly, when the French parliament passed this law they effectively barred devout, niqab-wearing Muslim women from the public sphere of French life!  Conservative Islam already had strict gender roles and realms - and let's be real, it's hard to find a modern society or a monotheistic faith that doesn't - and now French Muslim women are bound by religion and by law to stay at home, or flout either their faith or their government.  The French government has put Muslim in a despicable bind that is antithetical to everything democratic.
Stigmatized for their dress and religion, marked instantly as other and as criminal, marginalized by definition of their religious identity from what is "French," and now locked at home - and all this by a law that says it is to set them free.  I'm disgusted.
 

I also have to find a copy of the exact wording of the law, because apparently it never explicitly mentions Islam or the niqab, and reporters tend to use the words "burqa" and "niqab" interchangeably in their coverage of the law.  The two things are in fact distinct articles of clothing - the burqa is a one piece covering that goes over the head and covers the whole upper half of the body, or goes all the way down to the feet, with a screen or a slit for the eyes.
The niqab is just a small rectangle of fabric that women wear along with hijab or chador/khimar to cover the lower half of their face.  Check out this super handy visual guide to Islamic styyyyyyle...  

If you're interested in more information on the nuances of difference in modest dress for Muslim women, why they veil at all, what the requirements are for men's dress, the Wikipedia pages on niqab and burqa and all the rest actually have good, unbiased information and really excellent links to even more information.

More humorously, wwo French women made this unusual video a few months ago as a protest against the niqab ban:

The self-titled duo NiqaBitch made waves with this video, so watch and see what you think.  Here's an excellent analysis from Guardian writer Nesrine Malik - Niqabitch niqab debate

For all you French readers, here's the link the main article in Le Monde : La loi interdisant le port du voile intégral diversement appliquée.  It's interesting to read the way the French are approaching this law themselves.

Meanwhile, in other Middle East that the BBC thinks is worth covering, Justin Beiber is apparently not having a good time in Israel.  Apparently all that dumb political stuff is getting in the way of his sightseeing and hairbrushing.  Come on, BBC, really?

A Piece of My Mind

Just a little piece...

I have massive amounts of work to do right now, but procrastination is singing her siren song...so you get a little ramble through where my mind is these days.

Where the heart is

talisman

it is written
the act of writing is
holy words are
sacred and your breath
brings out the
god in them
i write these words
quickly repeat them
softly to myself
this talisman for you
fold this prayer
around your neck fortify
your back with these
whispers
may you walk ever
loved and in love
know the sun
for warmth the moon
for direction
may these words always
remind you your breath
is sacred words
bring out the god
in you


      - Suheir Hammad

Ulysses

 It little profits that an idle king,
 By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
 Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
 Unequal laws unto a savage race,
 That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
 I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
 Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
 Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
 That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
 Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades                       
 Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
 For always roaming with a hungry heart
 Much have I seen and known; cities of men
 And manners, climates, councils, governments,
 Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
 And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
 Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
 I am a part of all that I have met;
 Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
 Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades             
 For ever and forever when I move.
 How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
 To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
 As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
 Were all too little, and of one to me
 Little remains: but every hour is saved
 From that eternal silence, something more,
 A bringer of new things; and vile it were
 For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
 And this gray spirit yearning in desire                     
 To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
 Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

   This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
 To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
 Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
 This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
 A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
 Subdue them to the useful and the good.
 Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
 Of common duties, decent not to fail                         
 In offices of tenderness, and pay
 Meet adoration to my household gods,
 When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

   There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
 There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
 Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me--
 That ever with a frolic welcome took
 The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
 Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
 Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;                    
 Death closes all: but something ere the end,
 Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
 Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
 The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
 The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
 Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
 'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
 Push off, and sitting well in order smite
 The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
 To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths                     
 Of all the western stars, until I die.
 It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
 It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
 And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
 Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
 We are not now that strength which in old days
 Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
 One equal temper of heroic hearts,
 Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
 To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

                      - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

There was still an hour to luncheon, and with Gibbon in one hand, and Balzac in the other she strolled out of the gate and down the little path of beaten mud between the olive trees on the slope of the hill. It was too hot for climbing hills, but along the valley there were trees and a grass path running by the river bed. In this land where the population was centred in the towns it was possible to lose sight of civilisation in a very short time, passing only an occasional farmhouse, where the women were handling red roots in the courtyard; or a little boy lying on his elbows on the hillside surrounded by a flock of black strong-smelling goats. Save for a thread of water at the bottom, the river was merely a deep channel of dry yellow stones. On the bank grew those trees which Helen had said it was worth the voyage out merely to see. April had burst their buds, and they bore large blossoms among their glossy green leaves with petals of a thick wax-like substance coloured an exquisite cream or pink or deep crimson. But filled with one of those unreasonable exultations which start generally from an unknown cause, and sweep whole countries and skies into their embrace, she walked without seeing. The night was encroaching upon the day. Her ears hummed with the tunes she had played the night before; she sang, and the singing made her walk faster and faster. She did not see distinctly where she was going, the trees and the landscape appearing only as masses of green and blue, with an occasional space of differently coloured sky. Faces of people she had seen last night came before her; she heard their voices; she stopped singing, and began saying things over again or saying things differently, or inventing things that might have been said. The constraint of being among strangers in a long silk dress made it unusually exciting to stride thus alone. As she walked they all went surging round in her head, a tumultuous background from which the present moment, with its opportunity of doing exactly as she liked, sprung more wonderfully vivid even than the night before.
- Virginia Woolf, "The Voyage Out"

Mumford and Sons, "The Cave," on fire at the Grammys

Florence is too cool.

Dolce & Gabbana

So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged

His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, 

And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood 

Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:

Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,

And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,

Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

                 - "Julius Caesar", William Shakespeare

P.S.  Got a 96% on my archaeology midterm.  

P.P.S.  Just finished applying for 13 internships.  I need a nap.  Instead, I have a research paper, a journal article and a 10-minute Arabic presentation to write.  

Summer in the City

NOTE: Again, I started this post weeks ago and I'm only just now getting back to it.

Well, at least this last weekend has felt like summer.  We actually had two hailstorms this week and it was rainy and miserable the rest of the time, but this weekend has been warm and magical.

I'm still backlogged on posts about my (literally) accidental trip to Tripoli and my week with my dad, but this weekend was just too lovely and I don't want to forget any of it.

Friday night - finished my Arabic class at 6, wandered around campus trying to meet up with my friend Tess where a student club was showing the film "City of God - Cidade de Deus," finally got there half an hour late, had my mind and heart thrashed by that amazing movie.  Go and see it, if you haven't yet.  Unforgettable.  After the movie, Tess and I just needed to do something happy, and since there were no roaring fires and cuddly kittens available, we went for hot chocolate and blueberry cheesecake at Cafe Younes on Hamra St.  

The next morning, we hopped a service (pronounced all fancy and French-like...serveeeees) cab down to the Souk al-Tayeb, a new farmer's market in the Beirut downtown.  It was AMAZING.  So many different kinds of delicious fruits, vegetables, herbs, dried fruits, sweets, jewelry, books, soaps...all set up in little stalls run by the farmers or the craftsmen.  Tess and I spent more money than we'd meant to, but the food was so good, we were both craving green vegetables and health food, and everyone was so nice.  Older people in Lebanon tend to be bilingual Arabic-French (the younger people are more likely to be English-Arabic, though everyone speaks some English and lots of young people are French educated...) so I actually got to dust off my French while we were shopping!






Saturday afternoon, we just wandered around downtown Beirut.  Tess had never been to the masjid Rafic Hariri, the massive new mosque that dominates the Place des Martyres downtown.  So we went in there - after being covered by the doormen in generic abayas and veils - and pondered religion a little, and then wandered around the Roman ruins and the three churches within a minute's walk of the mosque.  Welcome to Beirut.


We'd already eaten lunch at Souk Tayeb, but when an adorable maitre d' started chatting us up, we convinced ourselves we needed dessert.  After delicious ice cream sundaes and some adorable/awkward table service, we were back outside, and wandering through more ruins, picking flowers, enjoying our city.  I went back to my apartment, dropped off all my loot from the market, grabbed dinner, bought wine, and I honestly don't really remember the rest of the night.

Sunday morning, we got up early again to go shopping again!  This time, to the Souq al-Ahad, what we had been was a massive and kitschy flea market under a highway overpass somewhere in south Beirut.  Since this sounded completely amazing, we thought it would be worth getting up early for.  After waking up late and meeting about half an hour later than we'd planned, and getting large cups of coffee from the amazing Latte Art guy outside school, Tess, Lindsay and I grabbed a cab and were on our way.  Everyone in Beirut tells you, when you need directions to something, "Just tell any cab driver, they'll know, any cab driver!" and then you tell the driver and you really only have a 60/40 chance that he'll know (obviously except for the main touristy places, etc.).  But this time the first cab we asked actually knew where we wanted to go and didn't try to overcharge us.  A good start to the day.

We went on March 14 - a day of huge national protests in Lebanon, so all the streets were closed off and it took us ages to get there, and we were even afraid for a while that the souq would be closed.  But Beirut's a modern commercial city, and business stops for no ceremony.  We saw that it was bustling when we got there and enjoyed wandering around for a few minutes, taking everything in.  After about 10 minutes, we'd kind of seen of everything - "Is this it?" we awkwardly asked each other.  Then turning a corner under the underpass, we walked straight into a huge covered-stall city, full of everything we could have wanted and a million things we'd never want in our lives!  Success!  I bought two dresses for ~ $1.75 US, 5 brand new (bootleg) movies for $7, 4 pieces of falafel, a bowl of pickled veggies and a blackberry juice for $2, photographs of Beirut and Beiruts from the 1950s, and an amazing carved antique red cabochon ring for $15.  Not to mention all the Arabic we spoke, all the crazy things we saw (parrots and turtles for sale, a perfume called "Obama," knockoff designer clothes with hilarious misprints, carved bone pipes, mother of pearl cigarette cases, sneakers with Tupac's face printed on them (WHY did I not buy these?!?) and so much more...).  After almost getting ripped off by our taxi driver on the way back (we didn't though, don't worry) we all came back to my apartment, drank some wine, tried to do work, and ended just talking for hours and making delicious pasta for dinner.  I think I did some work Sunday night, or very early Monday morning.

A perfect Beirut weekend.

Tripoli by Accident

NOTE:  I started writing this post ages ago, forgot about it, found it again, finished it, and posted it because I've written so little about this wonderful country I'm in.

Two weeks ago, I decided to get out of Beirut.  I didn't really care where, but I wanted to get out of the city and see something new.  I read up on Tyre, a city in the south that I'd heard really good things about and looked like it was 3 hours away by bus, set my alarm for 7:30 am and slept the deep sleep of the soon-to-be adventurous. 
Of course, my alarm didn't go off and I didn't actually wake up until 11. 
So when I did get up, I was faced with the choice of surrendering my whole day to homework and stasis or just getting out and doing ANYthing.  I got up, read through my roommate's guidebook, decided to go to Byblos (only 40 mins away), threw on a cute outfit, bag on my shoulder, out the door to find an adventure.
In the POURING rain.
I don't have an umbrella (note: I have one now), so there was no choice but to just get soaked and try to keep my chin up.  Keeping my mascara up was a little bit harder, so I stopped for a dry-out break on my way to the bus station and grabbed coffee.  The rain only got harder, so I just had to laugh and head back out into it.  Got to the bus station - charmingly located under a random highway overpass - bought a ticket for a bus to Tripoli that was supposed to stop somewhere along the way at Byblos and I'm on my way.
Until, somewhere near Byblos, my bus hits a wall.  Literally.  Or it might have been another bus.  It kind of looked like both.  So we all have to get off the bus and flag down the rickety minivan buses along the highway.  I asked a nice woman whether the bus she was getting on was going to Jbeil (Arabic for Byblos) and she said yes, so I gamely got on and paid my fare.  I found out 10 minutes later that we were already past Jbeil when the bus got in the accident, and I was now crammed into this tiny minibus on my way to Tripoli.

I wanted an adventure.

So, since it would take too long to get all the way to Tripoli, turn around and go back to Byblos, I figured I'd just make an afternoon of it in Tripoli.  And I really did have a lovely time.

I had the guidebook with me, so I read up on the city as we drove through the beautiful countryside, and figured out that pretty much the only thing to see was the old Crusader citadel (Second Crusade, built by the amazing Raymond de Saint-Gilles...second crusade = coolest crusade for sure.  Salah ah-din 4EVA).
When I got into a town, I checked the time for the last bus to Beirut and turned out to have about 4 hours to spend in Tripoli.  I wandered a little in the old city, but I have to say - Tripoli (or Trablous, as it's properly called) felt more like Egypt than Lebanon to me, and not in any good way.  It was grimmer, dirtier, more crowded - on any given city block, I was the only woman with my hair uncovered, and I attracted the attendant attention.  I started getting lost and, not particularly enjoying the feeling, I ducked into a store to ask directions to the "5a'aa" - the citadel.

I didn't get very clear directions, and I must have looked even more confused when I came out of the store, because a man standing at the corner asked me if I needed help.  Going on my newly rediscovered faith in people, I told him that I was lost and that I wanted to go to citadel.  He started to give me directions, then saw a friend of his pulling out of a driveway across the street from where we stood.  Hailing his friend, he asked me if I'd like a ride to the citadel.  WHAT THE HELL, NO, do NOT get in a car with two complete strangers when you're lost in strange city, said my mind.  "OK, merci, ktiir," (Thanks so much), said my mouth.

So there I was, in a lovely new BMW with Ali and Nasser, my two new Trablousi friends.  They drove me to the citadel in record time - and the route was seriously convoluted, so it's a good thing I didn't trust to my map - and we chatted the whole way.  Neither one of them spoke more than the barest English, so it was Arabic or bust!  When we got to the citadel, I asked them if they'd seen it before, and though they were both born and raised in Trablous, neither one had ever been inside!  So of course I invited them to come with me, and they accepted.  Against my protests, they even paid for my admission.

So we had a terrific wander around these ruins.  It was raining most of the time, but pretty lightly, and the gray misty lighting was really picturesque.  We kept speaking Arabic, and somehow I explained to them about things I was learning in my archaeology class and what I knew of Crusader history, and they explained to me about Trablous and their childhoods and their families.  How did we understand each other?  I still don't know, but though they were using words I'd never heard before, I swear I understood everything they told me that day.  And the words I learned from them are words I'll never need to study - they've stayed lodged in my brain and come as easily to me as English.

The view of the city from the citadel was really delightful, and I have some super cheerful awkward pictures of Ali and Nasser.

We had a great afternoon, got soaked by the rain, and they drove me straight to the bus station - and bought my bus ticket home, again despite my strenuous protest.  In return for giving me their entire afternoon and all their generosity, all they asked was that I call them when I made it back to Beirut so they'd know that I was fine.  I dutifully called them, they wished me a wonderful semester, and told me to call them any time I came to Trablous.

What an amazing day!  I love Lebanon.