The title pretty much says it all! It has been a blah week with the only highlight being the upcoming beer festival at Grand Place. I am committed to drinking/trying more than five beers (I tried four last year) as this year I'm not bogged down with French friends (and instead have picked a good beer drinking crew - Belgian, Canadian, Portuguese, maybe a Brit or two, and some Italians).
I was called my funky mood tonight and in talking I realised, it isn't the boy who has put me in this mood - it's me! After the high of Lebanon I'm feeling depressed, added to that is exhaustion, bad weather, mis-behaving skin and general hair disasters. In addition, the whole new boss thing is sending me ga-ga, as it is for others I work with. In my case, I want to be one of my old boss's chosen ones - and maybe I will be - maybe I won't. I'm leaving, so I shoudn't say yes, even if he asks me to join him and really, why am I constantly looking for his approval? Wasn't Lebanon, Aceh, Dubai/Afghanistan and China etc etc enough? All I know is I had two work dreams last night - neither very pleasant and I woke up feeling annoyed and let down by my subconscious.
I think I need a new, healthier attitude at work, something in line with my upcoming departure. I can't reduce my 100% input drastically, because I would (and do) feel lost and need constant stress of some sort (admit it you stress junky!), but I should start winding down and looking ahead.
I can't wait to go home and see my parents in early October! I think that will also give me some time to gain perspective and re-start my internet searching for stuff in Lala land.
So, in a blah week the things I have to be thankful for are:
1. R for always putting stuff in context and making me think and smile;
2. Living in Brussels where a beer festival is guaranteed to be fabulous;
3. Excellent friends and colleagues, who make me laugh and put up with my moods;
4. The boy for being himself;
5. The Belgian Police for their niceness and innability to do anything/lack of toughness; and
6. Getting a salary for stuff I love to do!!!
Hey, you couldn't ask for more (except for better hair). I don't want to trivialise my blog any further, but one posting will have to be on the hair and hair cut. Let me just say this - if it isn't all "right" by 3 Jan 2007, I'll be shattered!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Growing Up - que sera, sera...
It suddenly seems as if everyone is pregnant or already has a baby - two of my close girlfriends (the trendsetters - first to marry etc., - though since they are dating each other, I count them as one), B's brother, R's 3 guy friends, M and M etc etc. I'm really happy for all of them but of course I'm also a bit weirded out - suddenly we're entering totally new territory, true adulthood! I can see the world changing in front of me and I'm mesmerized that it is actually happening. I always imagined myself as a mother, but in a sort of vague, “wouldn’t it be fun” kind of way, on the same level as the “wouldn’t it be fun to live off the grid” fantasy. (That old line that I can't even look after a plant, is well, frankly old.) Understand this - I don't want to have a child - for now. I am not ready and I'm just getting used to being a wife/partner, but suddenly this next step in "growing up" seems real. This extended youth is coming to a close – whether we like it or fight it – adulthood is now shadowing us, and to try and run away from it is a mistake. And here’s something, should I never be a mother, others around me will, and my life will change regardless.
For example, I spent Friday night out with the girls, we drank four pitchers of sangria, had a marvelous time at El Papagayo and closed the place down (thanks to the ownership who let us be as loud as we wanted, gave us extra lollipops, the great service and amazing Euro 10 -3 course meal) and really enjoyed the night because we had no one dependent on us or who we had to think about...apart from our boyfriends. That ease of being "free" probably wouldn't exist if we had kids - even if someone was babysitting them and we could stay out all night, the next day would be hell! With this recent spate of pregnancies (and of course the already documented marriage mania) I can see that nights like Friday at el papagayo will soon become rare, and while we will miss them, we'll feel fulfilled in other ways (hopefully!)
According to B, even when I'm wild, I'm maternal - I looked after her really well on Friday, as she was feeling all fluey. I like that, because that's how I imagine my aunt/mother persona - a bit crazy but solid and loving.
Only time will tell. And as my mum used to sing, "que sera sera, whatever will be, will be".
For now, I'm very thankful for my life - for a night like el papagayo, for such lovely friends, for having ginger ale at home to greet me on a painful Sat morning, for the Belgian police (to be detailed at another time) and for living in a society where I can go out on my own and not have to chaperoned by a man! And as for the future, I can only hope whatever path I'm own, it works out as well.
Last note: El Papagayo, Latin American Food (and more!)
6 place Rouppe, 1000 Brussels, Tél. 02/514.50.83
For example, I spent Friday night out with the girls, we drank four pitchers of sangria, had a marvelous time at El Papagayo and closed the place down (thanks to the ownership who let us be as loud as we wanted, gave us extra lollipops, the great service and amazing Euro 10 -3 course meal) and really enjoyed the night because we had no one dependent on us or who we had to think about...apart from our boyfriends. That ease of being "free" probably wouldn't exist if we had kids - even if someone was babysitting them and we could stay out all night, the next day would be hell! With this recent spate of pregnancies (and of course the already documented marriage mania) I can see that nights like Friday at el papagayo will soon become rare, and while we will miss them, we'll feel fulfilled in other ways (hopefully!)
According to B, even when I'm wild, I'm maternal - I looked after her really well on Friday, as she was feeling all fluey. I like that, because that's how I imagine my aunt/mother persona - a bit crazy but solid and loving.
Only time will tell. And as my mum used to sing, "que sera sera, whatever will be, will be".
For now, I'm very thankful for my life - for a night like el papagayo, for such lovely friends, for having ginger ale at home to greet me on a painful Sat morning, for the Belgian police (to be detailed at another time) and for living in a society where I can go out on my own and not have to chaperoned by a man! And as for the future, I can only hope whatever path I'm own, it works out as well.
Last note: El Papagayo, Latin American Food (and more!)
6 place Rouppe, 1000 Brussels, Tél. 02/514.50.83
Friday, August 25, 2006
August in Brussels
August in Brussels is dull at the best of times – everyone flees the city for long, sun-kissed holidays and the weather is overcast and grey. This August is as expected - windy, rainy and empty - and more. The month seems to be dragging on with very little to report in terms of highlights. We are all exhausted at work, unsure what September and October will hold for us and generally feeling lethargic. I think Lebanon gave me a spark (and a serious stress) from mid-July to now but it is ending and we are returning to our ruts. I reviewed two reports today, both on border management, and realise how much of my time is spent keeping people out of countries rather than facilitating their entry.
I have to go to the police and report my missing ID cards. Though there should be no problem I’m depressed by the idea of more paperwork. If I can’t deal with the minute amounts of personal paperwork here in Brussels, hell knows how I’ll manage in the US where one’s life is run by credit cards, bills, payments due etc. I’ve just got out of the loop of dealing in a capitalist society and the stuff I miss, like shops open late, great customer service etc., quality and quantity and choice of goods, all come at a price!
I’ve decided that the wedding website will be my new focus – to really get it off the ground and working as a useful tool. I complain that the boy takes too long in getting things done, but I haven’t really taken on any one wedding project to date. I’m also going to start compiling music for the wedding. I realise that to see my way through this drizzly August in some sane state, I’ll have to energise myself and no one else can do it for me.
Have I mentioned before my love for cities? I realised it after Damascus that everyone has something that brightens their life – for some people it’s a new love, for others it’s the great outdoors/a nature landscape, or new acquisitions (clothes, jewellery, or cars), etc. For me it’s discovering a city. I thrive on the idea of making a city mine, of conquering a little part of it – both physically and in my imagination. Sadly, like those people who tire of their new acquisition, their new love, etc., I tire of my cities and am ready after an average of 2 years to move on, to rediscover. I am not fickle in my love of the boy and my family. But I’m so, so fickle in my love of cities. And this feeling, this heavy August dullness, of being antsy in addition to a growing ennui, is a sign of the end of my love affair with Brussels. In November it will be 2 years. I’m so predictable… the only question now is where next? La-la land seems where I’m headed and for at least 3-4 years. I suspect though, that like NYC, it’ll keep me busy and on my toes for more than a two-year stretch.
I have to go to the police and report my missing ID cards. Though there should be no problem I’m depressed by the idea of more paperwork. If I can’t deal with the minute amounts of personal paperwork here in Brussels, hell knows how I’ll manage in the US where one’s life is run by credit cards, bills, payments due etc. I’ve just got out of the loop of dealing in a capitalist society and the stuff I miss, like shops open late, great customer service etc., quality and quantity and choice of goods, all come at a price!
I’ve decided that the wedding website will be my new focus – to really get it off the ground and working as a useful tool. I complain that the boy takes too long in getting things done, but I haven’t really taken on any one wedding project to date. I’m also going to start compiling music for the wedding. I realise that to see my way through this drizzly August in some sane state, I’ll have to energise myself and no one else can do it for me.
Have I mentioned before my love for cities? I realised it after Damascus that everyone has something that brightens their life – for some people it’s a new love, for others it’s the great outdoors/a nature landscape, or new acquisitions (clothes, jewellery, or cars), etc. For me it’s discovering a city. I thrive on the idea of making a city mine, of conquering a little part of it – both physically and in my imagination. Sadly, like those people who tire of their new acquisition, their new love, etc., I tire of my cities and am ready after an average of 2 years to move on, to rediscover. I am not fickle in my love of the boy and my family. But I’m so, so fickle in my love of cities. And this feeling, this heavy August dullness, of being antsy in addition to a growing ennui, is a sign of the end of my love affair with Brussels. In November it will be 2 years. I’m so predictable… the only question now is where next? La-la land seems where I’m headed and for at least 3-4 years. I suspect though, that like NYC, it’ll keep me busy and on my toes for more than a two-year stretch.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
The Mashreq - Damascus, Beriut, Amman part II
I finally have a break in a three week work-a-thon. This whole Lebanon crisis situation has taken a good year off my life, though every minute has been worth it. Or so I can say now that it seems to be coming to an end.
I know when I leave I’m going to miss all of this- the highly political work, the stress, the constant demands to be tuned in and “on” – both mentally and physically. But, at the same time I can’t help but think one can only live this way for the long-term if you accept smoking, drinking and singledom as your mantra. Basically, to survive and succeed you have to marry the job (and the org!) and fully invest your soul in the political intricacies If this had taken place 10 years ago I may have been ready to do so, but now in my 30s, I am aware of the emptiness of committing one’s self to one’s work alone. You can’t have everything in life at one go, but if you are lucky, I think you can just enjoy all the phases, and I’m ready for another phase.
Parallels to Punjabis and living life to the full:
Now, let me just say this about the Mashreq (Jordan, Syria, Lebanon etc) – the people live their life to the fullest. It’s an interesting mix between being European to some degree, and still maintaining Asian roots. The same penny-pinching you see in the South of India is missing – in fact, the closest I can place the Mashreq to is the Punjab and Punjabis, but with a stronger western twist added in. For all those India lovers, I really don’t need to say any more. The women in all three cities (Amman, Damascus and Beirut) were gorgeous and dressed very well and showed a lot of skin (and did so openly – not something you necessarily see in Northern India). But I would say that modernisation and a western outlook is still only a veneer throughout the region. For example, you may think you are in a western town but then you go into some bars (at five star hotels) and they are full of men – the only women being a handful of Russians working the joint. In the same vein, groups of young, good-looking, well-dressed people wander the streets, parading themselves and enjoying the warm nights – but most of the groups are single-sex. One day I wore a skirt in Amman and regardless of my modest shirt etc., the skirt received a lot of attention. Very strange, when women in tinsy little tank tops were surrounding me- but they were local and of course not to be touched! I heard a lot of stories from the expatriate women in the region that they were often approached by men in the street or by taxi drivers etc for sex etc. This reminds me of my experience with Pakistani cab drivers in NYC – in the end it just seemed safer to walk home at midnight than catch a cab!
Of course in comparison to Europe, there is something very sexy and vibrant about the Middle East – more so than India in some ways. The night life in Damascus carried on to the early hours, with restaurants full to the brim, people out picnicking in parks, and having fund. In Amman, the streets were a little emptier, partly as it is a spread out city in comparison to Damascus and very new in its infrastructure. But, the restaurants were all bustling. And then there’s Beirut, which I think must never sleep – even as bombs fall. One expatriate said that he loved the Jordanians partying and then came to Beirut and realised what real partying is about!
Border Management Issues:
From a professional point of view, I was shocked at border security. I can’t really cross a border any more without rating its security systems and use of biometrics, checking of identification documents etc. And while Lebanon and Jordan were the better (and the Lebanese strive to be very strict and cautious of their borders), all three countries have some serious issues in terms of docu-checking, visa fraud etc. Syria is of course totally porous – the desert really seems immense and all the crossings are wrought with dust and crowds clambering to be let in or out. At one border, all the Syrians push to put their ID cards forward, papers jumbled and falling all around. Then a guard, using a loudspeaker, calls out the names: “Mohammad Qadr”, “Rafiq Ali” etc etc. Of course there is no way to ascertain in this made melee that Mohammad Qadr is in fact the same Mohammad in the banged up ID card handed in. On our drive out of Amman to Damascus, we passed the road to Baghdad. In seven hours we could have been in that city. I can’t go into too much detail, but let’s just say that at one crossing into Syria, we basically paid one of the guards for our visas (hard currency is the magic word). By the time we left Beirut, we’d spent so much time on the Lebanese-Syrian border, that the guards all knew me, and greeted H and I very heartily as we wheeled our cases along the non-man’s land bridge.
Call to Prayer:
The other interesting thing for me was to hear the call to prayer again. It really evoked a lot of old feelings and images from Bahrain. In Damascus, where the call was more prominent and even though I’m not Muslim, nor am I very religious any longer, I understand the power of the call – it reminds you of God and of your duty. The Middle East and the Mashreq can always be romanticised, and in fact, is done so too easily by Europeans, with the result that the dangerous side of the region is hidden or overlooked. I think it is only through living in the region that one gets to see the darker side, including the absolute acceptance of slavery – of women, foreign domestic workers, anyone who threatens the system etc. And what is really the hardest thing to overcome is the bond between the boys – here we see the true meaning of the boys club. A foreign male may be included but no women are ever let in. I think this is one reason why so many of our more Emergency-Field colleagues love staying in the region and not having to deal with women (in the West or in the Arab world).
A region of conflict and contradictions:
Basically, the region seemed rife with contradictions. How can we (the Europeans, the US) plan a “road map” or provide answers when we ourselves are such outsiders and only see the superficial picture? On talking to a number of Jordanian Christians, there seemed to be a great distrust of the Shia Muslims, but toleration of the Sunni. The Christians themselves are divided into sects – drums, Syrians etc., and for the most part get along and intermarry but the communities are not always on such peaceful terms. In addition, entering Beirut, a majority of the returning cars carried Hezbollah flags and where once the rough understanding was Muslim Lebanese for Hezbollah, Christian Lebanese anti-Syrian, the recent conflict has muddied these distinctions. In Syria, a land I always attached to Islam and fundamentalism, the Christian community is alive and well placed, with the Christian old city full of commerce. The only thing seemingly linking the different groups of people is anti-Israeli feeling. And if there had been any sympathy for Israel, tucked away in some community, the conflict, the incessant bombing of a Lebanon trying to rebuild itself, the images of crying children and the descriptions of the stench of the dead under the rubble have erased it all.
My excuse to drink:
Btw, on our second night in Amman, Le Meridien was all booked (UAE football team) up and we had to move to the infamous Radisson SAS hotel! I was kindly informed by my friend at the UN who works on risk analysis that in most parts of the world bombings do not occur again at the same place, EXCEPT in the Middle East, which strangely sees a pattern of repeat attacks. How lovely – this explains H and going out that night and getting blotto and me smoking 3 cigarettes.
I know when I leave I’m going to miss all of this- the highly political work, the stress, the constant demands to be tuned in and “on” – both mentally and physically. But, at the same time I can’t help but think one can only live this way for the long-term if you accept smoking, drinking and singledom as your mantra. Basically, to survive and succeed you have to marry the job (and the org!) and fully invest your soul in the political intricacies If this had taken place 10 years ago I may have been ready to do so, but now in my 30s, I am aware of the emptiness of committing one’s self to one’s work alone. You can’t have everything in life at one go, but if you are lucky, I think you can just enjoy all the phases, and I’m ready for another phase.
Parallels to Punjabis and living life to the full:
Now, let me just say this about the Mashreq (Jordan, Syria, Lebanon etc) – the people live their life to the fullest. It’s an interesting mix between being European to some degree, and still maintaining Asian roots. The same penny-pinching you see in the South of India is missing – in fact, the closest I can place the Mashreq to is the Punjab and Punjabis, but with a stronger western twist added in. For all those India lovers, I really don’t need to say any more. The women in all three cities (Amman, Damascus and Beirut) were gorgeous and dressed very well and showed a lot of skin (and did so openly – not something you necessarily see in Northern India). But I would say that modernisation and a western outlook is still only a veneer throughout the region. For example, you may think you are in a western town but then you go into some bars (at five star hotels) and they are full of men – the only women being a handful of Russians working the joint. In the same vein, groups of young, good-looking, well-dressed people wander the streets, parading themselves and enjoying the warm nights – but most of the groups are single-sex. One day I wore a skirt in Amman and regardless of my modest shirt etc., the skirt received a lot of attention. Very strange, when women in tinsy little tank tops were surrounding me- but they were local and of course not to be touched! I heard a lot of stories from the expatriate women in the region that they were often approached by men in the street or by taxi drivers etc for sex etc. This reminds me of my experience with Pakistani cab drivers in NYC – in the end it just seemed safer to walk home at midnight than catch a cab!
Of course in comparison to Europe, there is something very sexy and vibrant about the Middle East – more so than India in some ways. The night life in Damascus carried on to the early hours, with restaurants full to the brim, people out picnicking in parks, and having fund. In Amman, the streets were a little emptier, partly as it is a spread out city in comparison to Damascus and very new in its infrastructure. But, the restaurants were all bustling. And then there’s Beirut, which I think must never sleep – even as bombs fall. One expatriate said that he loved the Jordanians partying and then came to Beirut and realised what real partying is about!
Border Management Issues:
From a professional point of view, I was shocked at border security. I can’t really cross a border any more without rating its security systems and use of biometrics, checking of identification documents etc. And while Lebanon and Jordan were the better (and the Lebanese strive to be very strict and cautious of their borders), all three countries have some serious issues in terms of docu-checking, visa fraud etc. Syria is of course totally porous – the desert really seems immense and all the crossings are wrought with dust and crowds clambering to be let in or out. At one border, all the Syrians push to put their ID cards forward, papers jumbled and falling all around. Then a guard, using a loudspeaker, calls out the names: “Mohammad Qadr”, “Rafiq Ali” etc etc. Of course there is no way to ascertain in this made melee that Mohammad Qadr is in fact the same Mohammad in the banged up ID card handed in. On our drive out of Amman to Damascus, we passed the road to Baghdad. In seven hours we could have been in that city. I can’t go into too much detail, but let’s just say that at one crossing into Syria, we basically paid one of the guards for our visas (hard currency is the magic word). By the time we left Beirut, we’d spent so much time on the Lebanese-Syrian border, that the guards all knew me, and greeted H and I very heartily as we wheeled our cases along the non-man’s land bridge.
Call to Prayer:
The other interesting thing for me was to hear the call to prayer again. It really evoked a lot of old feelings and images from Bahrain. In Damascus, where the call was more prominent and even though I’m not Muslim, nor am I very religious any longer, I understand the power of the call – it reminds you of God and of your duty. The Middle East and the Mashreq can always be romanticised, and in fact, is done so too easily by Europeans, with the result that the dangerous side of the region is hidden or overlooked. I think it is only through living in the region that one gets to see the darker side, including the absolute acceptance of slavery – of women, foreign domestic workers, anyone who threatens the system etc. And what is really the hardest thing to overcome is the bond between the boys – here we see the true meaning of the boys club. A foreign male may be included but no women are ever let in. I think this is one reason why so many of our more Emergency-Field colleagues love staying in the region and not having to deal with women (in the West or in the Arab world).
A region of conflict and contradictions:
Basically, the region seemed rife with contradictions. How can we (the Europeans, the US) plan a “road map” or provide answers when we ourselves are such outsiders and only see the superficial picture? On talking to a number of Jordanian Christians, there seemed to be a great distrust of the Shia Muslims, but toleration of the Sunni. The Christians themselves are divided into sects – drums, Syrians etc., and for the most part get along and intermarry but the communities are not always on such peaceful terms. In addition, entering Beirut, a majority of the returning cars carried Hezbollah flags and where once the rough understanding was Muslim Lebanese for Hezbollah, Christian Lebanese anti-Syrian, the recent conflict has muddied these distinctions. In Syria, a land I always attached to Islam and fundamentalism, the Christian community is alive and well placed, with the Christian old city full of commerce. The only thing seemingly linking the different groups of people is anti-Israeli feeling. And if there had been any sympathy for Israel, tucked away in some community, the conflict, the incessant bombing of a Lebanon trying to rebuild itself, the images of crying children and the descriptions of the stench of the dead under the rubble have erased it all.
My excuse to drink:
Btw, on our second night in Amman, Le Meridien was all booked (UAE football team) up and we had to move to the infamous Radisson SAS hotel! I was kindly informed by my friend at the UN who works on risk analysis that in most parts of the world bombings do not occur again at the same place, EXCEPT in the Middle East, which strangely sees a pattern of repeat attacks. How lovely – this explains H and going out that night and getting blotto and me smoking 3 cigarettes.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Damascus, Beirut and Amman - posting #1
I got back on Friday from a duty travel (work trip) to Damascus, Beirut and Amman. It was a week of intense images, really tight schedules, a lot of stress and some fabulous connections with people and places. I fell in love with Damascus - the same way I fell in love with Istanbul all those years ago. I haven't felt like this for a city in 15 years. It was like spiritually coming home and my body tingled everytime we entered the city. I really liked Amman, and Beirut is of course superb, even in post-conflict situations. But, neither clicked with me the same way as Damascus did.
The work was amazing - we travelled the whole region, preparing our report and seeing every aspect of this huge project. It was all very political (with regard to the project, the in-house rivalries, and the larger world political context) and tired me out emotionally and physically. In many ways, I'm mentally stuck in the region. I woke up today wondering how they are doing in Beirut, Miss S has left, how is V? What is Mo-mo doing now etc etc. On one hand I was regaled with stories of cruelty towards the domestic workers who we are helping evacuate Beirut (over for now), and on the other hand I was amazed by the generosity and kindness of all the people in the region - from the rich to the poor.
The food was amazing though I didn't touch a single arab sweet sadly! But, I got seriously hooked on the shisha/hookah/nargeela/hubbly bubbly. My favourite flavour is Rose. I didn't get to do any shopping and one consequence of that is my surroundings were full of men (spending time at work, border crossings, the bar and cafes) and less interaction with women from the region and chances to chat to them. I did chat to a lot of people though and met one or two non-work related people who I will keep in touch with.
I travelled with H from work - friend and work mate. It was up and down and I'm happy we are close enough so we could fight with ease. I couldn't have done the trip without him - he was great though pushy. I'm not a field person though I like emergency work. But, I'm more about long-term strategy and outcomes. Emergency work is for the now, the present, and is without very much context and all about operations and just getting the job done quickly and well. I did find the pace quite a surprise --- you have to be young to keep doing it. I heard a few stories of serious illnesses after emergency stints.
Are all emergency situations full of unspoken tension? It seems like that? Is that because there are fewer women (hence sexual tension) or because the intensity of what you are doing heightens all situations? Or because you work, eat, sleep and depend on these people 24/7? Any way, per my past experience with the Afghanistan crew, everyone is more open to life and people are far less bitchy or stuck up. The emergency lot are really down to earth and the good ones are thinkers as well.
Having said the above, I would be fine with the boy going on emergency work and to post-concflict zones. I may or may not join him, but I would be fine with him going - I know deep down this is his stuff, if not totally mine. I think Alex's situation in S is the best. He's there doing what he loves, but with his wife and kid.
So much to say and to process...hope to get some photos from H of the trip and will post them here.
It is good to be home but I feel disconnected. Also, this isn't totally home and so I'm really in between places - one foot out and one foot in. Could I get to work in Damascus, I wonder? How could I wangle this? I would have to learn Arabic and focus on the region in some way.
One totally positive result of this trip is I now (thanks to the Syrian's propensity for large and colourful visas) have ONLY 3 full pages left in my passport. If I play my cards well (travel a lot soon!) I can get a new pssport soon (in less than one year really) and have a NEW PHOTO taken. Ha ha, no more, mexican maid murder suspect!
The work was amazing - we travelled the whole region, preparing our report and seeing every aspect of this huge project. It was all very political (with regard to the project, the in-house rivalries, and the larger world political context) and tired me out emotionally and physically. In many ways, I'm mentally stuck in the region. I woke up today wondering how they are doing in Beirut, Miss S has left, how is V? What is Mo-mo doing now etc etc. On one hand I was regaled with stories of cruelty towards the domestic workers who we are helping evacuate Beirut (over for now), and on the other hand I was amazed by the generosity and kindness of all the people in the region - from the rich to the poor.
The food was amazing though I didn't touch a single arab sweet sadly! But, I got seriously hooked on the shisha/hookah/nargeela/hubbly bubbly. My favourite flavour is Rose. I didn't get to do any shopping and one consequence of that is my surroundings were full of men (spending time at work, border crossings, the bar and cafes) and less interaction with women from the region and chances to chat to them. I did chat to a lot of people though and met one or two non-work related people who I will keep in touch with.
I travelled with H from work - friend and work mate. It was up and down and I'm happy we are close enough so we could fight with ease. I couldn't have done the trip without him - he was great though pushy. I'm not a field person though I like emergency work. But, I'm more about long-term strategy and outcomes. Emergency work is for the now, the present, and is without very much context and all about operations and just getting the job done quickly and well. I did find the pace quite a surprise --- you have to be young to keep doing it. I heard a few stories of serious illnesses after emergency stints.
Are all emergency situations full of unspoken tension? It seems like that? Is that because there are fewer women (hence sexual tension) or because the intensity of what you are doing heightens all situations? Or because you work, eat, sleep and depend on these people 24/7? Any way, per my past experience with the Afghanistan crew, everyone is more open to life and people are far less bitchy or stuck up. The emergency lot are really down to earth and the good ones are thinkers as well.
Having said the above, I would be fine with the boy going on emergency work and to post-concflict zones. I may or may not join him, but I would be fine with him going - I know deep down this is his stuff, if not totally mine. I think Alex's situation in S is the best. He's there doing what he loves, but with his wife and kid.
So much to say and to process...hope to get some photos from H of the trip and will post them here.
It is good to be home but I feel disconnected. Also, this isn't totally home and so I'm really in between places - one foot out and one foot in. Could I get to work in Damascus, I wonder? How could I wangle this? I would have to learn Arabic and focus on the region in some way.
One totally positive result of this trip is I now (thanks to the Syrian's propensity for large and colourful visas) have ONLY 3 full pages left in my passport. If I play my cards well (travel a lot soon!) I can get a new pssport soon (in less than one year really) and have a NEW PHOTO taken. Ha ha, no more, mexican maid murder suspect!
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