From the Archive: A trip to Beirut

While browsing the old folders on my home server, I found the below memories I wrote back in 2002. I thought to copy/paste them here without any editing for eternal safe keeping.

Contemplations about my Trip to Lebanon 2002-07-23

Tuesday 16 July 2002

We headed to the airport around 6:15. The driver was an African Arab… either from Sudan or Somalia. He had a low exhausted voice… I suspect from smoking. He was remorseful about the delay and blaming on the wrong directions given by the company.

The check in was smooth. We had to talk our way to get a seat on the exit. The earlier booking was not accurate. We walked to the gates. Luay and Sana took the caddy cart. I walked the distance. The moving belt was not moving… but I walked through it.

We went to the restaurant. As usual, Sana was arguing about the location of the restaurant… although she knows she does not know about directions. As usual, again, she was wrong. A hostess showed us the way. We had a couple of drink then we went to the Duty Free. I did not find any item of interest. Our main expenditure was bubble gums. We saw Wadi Jureidini there and we chatted for a while. Gate 14 faced the duty free. We had a little walk to do.

The flight was smooth. We had turbulence during the first 15 minutes. After that, it was like butter flowing on oil. My seat was next the emergency exit. Sana and Luay sat in seats behind me. To my left, there was a Lebanese gentleman who I suspect was a Durzi. He works in Saudi Arabia and now is moving to Dubai. I gathered he is married with one son. He was hesitant about giving information about himself although he was friendly. We chatted about UAE, Saudi and getting comfortable in the cultural move from Riyadh to Dubai. He has a sister who works with HCT and a brother in law who works at AUS. They live in Sharjah.

On my right, there was another quiet Lebanese gentleman. We chatted briefly about HCT and it budget. Beyond that, he did not say anything.

Since Sana ordered sea food… we had our meal quiet early. The food was good but not tasty. I finished the food quiet early and had to carry the plates on my lap for a long time.

During the flight, I tried to read a book called “Political Stories”… but it was the usual Arabic grinning about the political situation. I read the first few pages without interest. Then browsed through the remaining pages quickly and put it away. I doubt I will read it again.

Then I moved to reading the “Messages from the Masters”. It did not attract me. I presume it is another money making attempt trying to tell people there is more to life than what they know. I know I will finish this book… one day.

I asked for Al Diyar newspaper. I skimmed it very quickly then put it away. I felt I have no interest with Politics. At my age… it is enough to read the headlines to know the content. Politics, in general, became predictable.

We reached Beirut and walked to the Security check with Wadi. It was smooth. Wadi sounded so pessimistic. He had the tendency of believing negative ideas about Lebanon far easier than seeing a living a positive situation. I was wondering why! Is it a political stand due to his beliefs or that he knows things I do not know! I wondered without asking hoping to discover it one day.

We reached Beirut around 12. Hadi, Mirna, Rula and their kids were waiting for us. Hadi looks smart as ever. Mirna still in her charm although se already had a baby. Rula was elegant and beautiful as always. I felt love energizing me when I saw my family. We went to my in-laws house. After kisses and hugs, we stayed chatting till 3 am. We went to sleep around that time.

Wednesday 17 July 2002

We woke up late.
We went to Hospital to help Hayat. We visited their house for the first time.
We drove to my daddy’s house in Rolla’s car.
We slept there.
The view was gorgeous.

Thursday 18 July 2002

We Slept at Daddy’s house.
We had a chat all day log about politics…

Friday 19 July 2002

Rula picked us up and took us to her house. Had delicious Manakish which I regretted later because I felt stuffed and had headaches. Rolla tool us to my in-laws to pay farewell to Hajji who was going to Canada the next day. We met uncle Walid and Hanan. Nizar and his daughter came and had a good talk. Apparently, Hanan and Nizar are not talking.

We went to Hadi’s to sleep there.

Saturday 20 July 2002
We went to Mirna’s father ranch. We swam. I was called Casper.

Sunday 21 July 2002
We went to Saida and had delicious Fool plate. Then we walked through the old Market. We ate Cheese Pie from the old Al Baba sweat’s shop. We went around Dhbabneh palace.

We met a doctor that I forgot his name. He is married to a Romanian lady. He has grown up children although he looked young. Talked about business in Lebanon and he sounded encouraging.

We drove the car to Jizin for Sana to see the waterfalls. We had fruits at the “Waterfall View” restaurant while Sana energized her self from the fall of waters. We drove the back way to Sawfar passing through Shouf Mountains. We reached Sawfar around 6 pm to attend Ahmad’s son birthday.

For the first time in 25 years, I met most of the Fawzi family. There were tones of children and grandchildren. Some of whom I remember now are:

Uncle Fawzi and Elena. Caritas and Tariq and their 5 daughters. One of them already married to nice, but arrogant person. As cute as ever Maria, her husband Riyad and their 2 daughters and son Karim. Ida, her lovely son Ahmad and her 2 daughters. Toufic and his wife Lucia and their daughter. And Ahmad’s children.

We went to Hadi’s to sleep. We slept early.

Monday 22 July 2002
I went to Douma through Jubeil. I took a service to Hilo station then a bus to Jubeil. I hired a taxi to drive to Douma which was 44 Km. Checked in Room 205 after I chatted with the hotel manager.

Tuesday 23 July 2002

The Top Songs on the day of my Birth

The top song on the UK chart was:



While on the US charts, weirdly enough, was:




While its English version was song by Dean Martin:



More will come once I find them out!

Allen's Midnight in Paris

Just finished Woody Allen's brilliant movie: Midnight in Paris... Reliving the greatness of the 20's and interacting with the "lost generation" surreal great artists of humanity through the eyes of today is brilliant. Struggle between love and obligation, dreaming and reality, doing what is passionate and what is right... People look for golden age outside their real themselves...Watching it with Wikipedia on your side for referencing is enlightening experience.

This movie deserves more than a watch. But, at this point, here are some of what I got to reflect on in the future:

- Stein: we all fear death and question our place in the universe, the artist job is not to succumb to despair, but to find an antidote to the emptiness of existence.

- Gill: how can anyone come up with a book, or painting, or symphony or sculpture that can compete with a great city... Look around [Paris]... Every street, every boulevard has its special art form. And when you think that in cold violent meaningless universe that Paris exists, these lights... Com'n...there is nothing happening on Jupiter or Mars or Neptune, but from way out of space you can see these lights, the cafes, people drinking, singing... I mean for all we know, Paris is the hottest spot in the Universe.

- "you inhabit two worlds, so far I see nothing strange"... In the 20's, this is normal. now it is strange!

- "Pablo is the greater artist, but Matese is a greater painter". An interesting distinction between an artist an a painter.

- Everyone consider the other age is the golden age...

- these people don't have antibiotics.

- Writers are full of words but lack emotions.

My favorite new movie. Transformational experience.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Memory: Standing in line

Today, I had to stand in line for 34 minutes. I haven't done this in many, many years. I had good reflections. I will jot down my ideas before they perish.

The line was in Canada Post. I had to mail a letter to a Canadian Service agency. I had to spend 34 minutes just to put a stamp. In 34 minutes, I would have replied to 5 emails, checked my FaceBook, read my Google Reader (that gets me news from 1000 news agencies), checked my PhD discussion forum. All, within the 34 minutes. While I had to stand in line doing nothing, except thinking, for 34 minutes. I tried to talk to the people in front of me. They just smiled politely as if telling me to shut up. This is the smooth polite Canadian way of being being rude, I looked around and started reading labels of items for sale. It was a total waste of time.

I do not understand why Canadian Service agencies do not use electronic systems. Why I had to mail the paper. They made me fill the form online, but at the end they said: print then mail. Why not Submit? Is this the government way to make people busy? I am wondering.

When I was driving home, I gave it more thought. One reason I left Lebanon for ever is the waiting I was expected to accept. I remember between 1975 and 1977 the waiting I had to do on the neighborhood bakery. I had to wait hours just to get a bag of [peta] bread. Bread is essential food item in Lebanon. If I do not wait all the way, my family will go hungry. Not because we are poor, nor because we had another alternative. But it was the war. Many times the bakery closed before my turn reached. Many times the zo3ran (what Canadian politely call the bullies) would cut the line and take all the bread. This used to hurt me. Deeply. Because I refuse to fight or to be a bully, my family has to spend a day witout bread. It frustrated me. This was one reason I hated queues. It was forcing me to be a bad person, otherwise my family will suffer. How can you make peace with this idea? I could not. That is why I hate standing in line. That is why I left Lebanon.

[imagery: just to describe how the line used to be, here is a brief description. Check this link to have a Google Maps idea: http://g.co/maps/p7pr9. A snapshot is on the right. Due to the war, the bakeries, which we call Forun, used to receive subsidized flour from the government to bake bread which is the basic food in Lebanon. The baker was supposed to sell the bread at a certain price, otherwise, the government will not give him flour. The baker would take quarter of the subsidized flour and bake them into bread to sell them at government price. While he uses the reaming three quarters to bake other stuff like banquettes, cake, cookies and what we call "petite feure" at more than 10 times its government set price. Thus he makes tonnes of money. A sort of legal stealing scheme in Lebanon. The government would send the flour late at night and the baker would start backing at early hours of the day. My mom would wake me up at 5 am to go and stand in line waiting for my turn. Usually the line extends from the bakery shop all the way to our house. That is around 3 blocks in New York block size. I would wait hours before the line start moving. I am leaning on walls of buildings. Many times under rain. Few times during shelling. It was the civil war, you know. I really believe these long waits made me a thinker. I had nothing I could do except wait and think. By the way, I was 17 years old, and we did not have smart phones nor iPads back then. The only available reading for me was a 37 pages Superman comics].

Another experiential queue I remember was when I wanted to apply for a US Visa in Dubai. That is around 30 years later. I had two experiences. One experience was nerve wrecking while the other one was enlightening.

The first one was in 2000. It was after a long period of time where I got used to "buy my queue". I had people who would go and wait in line in my place. I forgot the agony and anger the queues give me. But in 2000, I had to stand in line. The US embassy in Dubai want you to apply in person. Whoever you are, you have to be there. Their system necessitates that you stand in multiple sequential queues. The first one before even you get to their building (which was in the Dubai Trades Centre). At this stage, they just check the purpose of your visit. The second set of queues are inside the building before you get to the lifts. In this phase, you have to surrender everything you have except your pants and shirt. You may keep your passport. The third queue is in a corridor waiting for your turn to take the lift. The fourth queue is after you leave the lift, but before you are admitted into the offices. Here, they re-Xray you and ensure you are not hiding anything in your body. The fifth waiting place is inside the embassy, in a big hall where you are seated before your name was called. This was longest wait.

I remember the first time I applied, I left after the 4th wait. I was angry and frustrated. I felt humiliated. I swore I will never go again.

How can I live without visiting the US. So, I tried again the second time in 2002. After 9-11. You can imagine the strictness of the visit. So, before I go, I meditated, prayed, did partial hypnosis to tolerate the experience. I prepared myself mentally, physically and spiritually. I was frustrated at the second phase. I took a deep breath. Recited few relaxing phrases. Did a standing yoga to give myself a boast to survive it. Then an epiphany happened. I though to myself, why am I projecting negativity around myself. Why not mine for positivity and absorb it. This was a changing decision. That is when I decided to "waste the day no matter how long it takes". My mood changed. Suddenly, I recognized there are people around. I am not alone in this queue. I looked at their faces. I tried to think about them. What are their agonies. What make them happy. How can I make them happy. How can I project positivity unto them. Suddenly I became joyful. Then I decided to look at every individual based on who he is... and not how I want to make him to be... it was a value changing experience. Ever sine then, I started believing in individuality. But I still hated queues.

Today, I had to stand in line again. Those 34 minutes made me reflect on my previous experiences. Above all, made me recognize one anger I bottled up all these years. I am wondering, should I stand in queues more often? Is this why the Canadian government wanted me to mail the letter rather than email it?

Another queue, another experience and another day.

Fall 2011 TV series

This Fall, many new TV series were introduced. Here is my take on some of them.

2 Broke Girls: On CityTv

Max and Caroline are two broke girls, each for different reason. Max for being a born loser, and Caroline a pre-rich girl who went to the lower ranks because of fraudulent father. The story is an imitation of a group of previous series like Darma and Greg. Max is the down to earth pessimistic while Caroline is the optimistic forward thinker. The program is filled with witty comments and thoughtful links to contradictory ideas. I haven't laughes yet. I do not think it will survive more than two season unless they introduce other characters that breaks the monotonous femal-female continuous bickering.

Last Man Standing: On CityTV

Tim Allen is back. This time as Mike Baxter. It is an almost imitation of Tim's old Home Improvement. Tim plays an identical role: a dumb macho man who works in a only man job. The different is that the children are all girls (instead of boys in the previous series). Instead of hosting the Tool Man TV show, he moved into Web Advertisement. Same old type of jokes. Tim still has the energy although he looks bit older. I still need more time to figure out if it will survive to the next season.

New Girl: on CityTV
Jess who just lost her boy friend through cheating moves to live in house filled with men. The program is contrasting the male and female world with an upper hand for the woman. I think this will be another failure to add to 4 Kings and Accidentally on Purpose. I do not think the audience appreciate the boys vs girl struggles.

Pan Am: on CTV

A nice change. Pan Am is the story of flight attendants in the 60's serving on the ill fated Pan Am airliner. The main drift of the series is to live the 60's again. Its history, style, fashion and events. From the era of Kennedy with the start of the cold war to the first race to the moon. The movie is filled with nostalgic scenes and ideas that will attract the new retiring generation, which I think will give it some factor for success.

Happily Divorced: GlobalTV
Another Fran Drescher series that revolves around the same topic. A sex driven woman with a strange force that has struggle with her real husband. This time, the husband is gary. I do not think Fran learns from her mistakes. I suspect it will be another failure unless the gay community put their weight behind it.

The Circle of Academicians

The last 5 weeks of my doctorate studies focused on the realm of academics. We discussed many topics about traits and characteristics an academician should acquire to be successful in this field. Good discussions took place. Out of these two topics, I want to share here two concepts that was raised. Both of them were mine. One I shared with the rest of the team, the other one I kept to myself, and now for you.

The first idea was related to Clifton's strengths. I made a bold statement that a successful academician should have at least one of the following strengths: Ideation, Intellection, Learner, Connectidness or  Restorative. I would if my idea will pass the research test. it could be a thesis for one of my assignments.

The second idea is the Community of Practice. Some of the participants doubted the rules of the academic world. At the same time, during my MOOC course, I discovered that the Mooc'ers wanted to adapt their approach to the academic world. I am opposing this approach. I feel the academic world is a different community of practice than the Mooc'ers, which are different that common wisdom of the layperson. Each one follow different set of rules.

As an illustration of the situation, I like to use the following two scenarios:

(1) Consider a person who does not drink alcohols joining a wine tasting club. That person will be counterproductive to himself and the members. it is the same story. A person who does not appreciate the academic environment and wants to obtain a PhD will lose himself and make the experience of the other PhD'ers bad.

(2) Consider a person who gambles by playing Poker. If her tries to play Black Jack with the poker rules will definitely lose all his money, even if he won a couple of rounds. Consequently, if you want to study PhD, you should play by the rules of the PhD otherwise the study will be a total of loss, even if he won some arguments.
Just two illustration I wanted to capture before i perish.

Peace to me!

In a letter to a friend, I mentioned that most of the people use the phrase "Peace Upon You", "Shalom" and "Salamu Alaykoum" (which all mean Peace) without knowing what the Peace really means.

Then a friend of mine statused his facebook with the phrase: "Kindness is to love others even if they do not deserve it".

Then it came to me. I commented on his status with "Peace is to love others without thinking if they deserve it or not". What an epiphany!

This matches Jesus wisdom: Love Thy Enemy. I need to find reference in other religions!