Kelli's Blog

Photo taken 12 July 2009 - Richard & Kelli's backyard, Charlotte, North Carolina, USA.

29 September 2009 - Beirut, Lebanon (sitting in Graffiti in Hamra, as usual)

I just read the very first post of Kelli's totally hilarious blog. I'm in my usual pre-travel tizz because I'm flying to New Delhi at 3am tonight and working through a ridiculous itinerary of planes, trains and automobiles to get me to the ashram in the Himalayas by the 3rd. It was such a treat to read a day in the life of Kelli's life. I worked with Kelli's husband, Richard for 8 years at BofA. He and I are the same age but he was always many rungs above me on the corporate ladder. It was Richard's persistence in luring me to the London office that laid the foundation for my leap of faith out of the country. Back in the early BofA Houston Energy days, Richard and I were both in long-term relationships for roughly the same number of years, a number which grew each year that we worked together. I remember (not sure Richard does) a few big conversations we had over drinks about the possibility of marriage to our respective others. Eventually we made our decisions: I broke up and went solo, Richard married Kelli. When I moved to Lonon, Kelli came over the day I moved into to my flat at Elizabeth Court and we talked for hours. I realized then that she and I had very similar lives but made opposite choices. Kelli's funny, smart and cool - and she knew what she wanted: marriage and children. That day as we sat in the beginning stages of my new, uncertain, single & childless London Life, I remember admiring her clarity. I still do. What I admire even more is her honesty, which I find humorous, poignant and wise. I've always thought she and I should write a book together, a back and forth between divergent paths from the same fork in the road (the fork, specifially, was being a female, urban dwelling corporate late-night worker in Houston, Texas circa 2002).

Yesterday is a great example:

At 1am last night, I was out with Chloe, walking past a barbed wire military patrol point on the Corniche in Beirut, Lebanon. Chloe's a fascinating an kind humanitarian Peace Corps NGO person who is not the least bit afraid of war zones. We were discussing the infinite madness of being in our thirties, single, childlesss, working abroad, traveling in the Middle East, what we're doing next, if we could ever get married, have kids, live in the States. Do we want it? Could we have it? Are we happy? What do we want to do next? Is my return plane ticket (returrning to Beirut December 09) a safety net?

Meanwhile, Kelli was writing her first blog entry about landscaping and cooking MSG fish sticks for toddlers. And you know what? Kelli could have just as easily been walking with us past the rifled soldier behind the barbed wire on a cliff in Beirut; and I could have just as easily been hanging out with Kelli, lamenting landscaping decisions, fish sticks and dishes in the dishwasher. We're both fortunate, we're both living lives which so many people do not have the privilege to attain. And we're both grounded in the reality that neither of our lives is all it's cracked up to be. Everything in life is a trade-off.

Link to Kelli's blog: My Life as a Stepford Wife

Lazy Warrior

7 September 2009 - Yoga in Gemmayzeh- Beirut, Lebanon.

Chloe had never been to my favorite yoga studio so she didn’t know what to expect. She arrived before me and sms-ed me, “All the women are skinny and look like dancers. Am I going to be okay?” Ha. The first time I walked into a class I thought it looked like a Victoria Secret’s fashion show dressing room – all the women perfect, clad in tight yoga clothes with long luscious Lebanese hair and flawless skin. “You’ll be fine!” I lied back. I had no idea if either one of us would survive. It was a crowded Yoga 2 class and the room was hot. The beautiful peace-cool teacher, whom I’d not had before, was totally hard core. Tough class. She said some really cool things that helped me get centered, and a prayer where we acknowledged our best teacher is the one inside ourselves. She played great music including an old version of Black Hole Sun which I did not realize was not a Soundgarden original. As she directed us to go into Warrior One pose then Warrior Two, she meticulously corrected our form, telling us technique and admonishing us not to be lazy warriors. I was thinking, lady, you’re lucky I’m being any warrior at all. I was about to crumble to the floor. She invited us to a Global Mala yoga day in the mountains on the 19th September where we do 108 sun salutations in dedication to world peace. I decided I kind of wanted to attempt it. Gave the teacher my email after class and made a note in my mental calendar.

After class I hung out with Chloe and we talked until after midnight about everything under the sun. She invited me to Moscow with her in October. Plane tickets are cheap and she’s got a friend with whom we could stay. I’d had my heart set on doing the yoga course in the Himalayas in October, but the course was fully book and I’d been waitlisted. Moscow sounded like a great alternative. Chloe and I hatched our plan.

Swimming with Saudis

6 September 2009 – Somewhere near EcoVillage - Dmit Valley, Chouf Mountains, Lebanon


After breakfast Chaz, French NGO Girl, and I went with the Singer and her friend for a walk away from EcoVillage. We stumbled upon a make-shift tree house in the woods [bxA] that was filled with Lebanese guys. There was a guy with a rifle guarding the entrance. Charles asked to no one in particular, “is this a militia?” as they invited us into their, um, makeshift campsite tree house place. They offered to show us a hidden lagoon just down the way.




One of the guys said proudly about the beautiful, secluded lagoon, “yeah, no one comes down here.” The Singer said gently to no one, “is that because you have guns?” Charles and I weren’t in swimsuits, but we improvised with the help of the Singer’s Friend who loaned me her bathing suit top. After a while, a group of the Treehouse Guys’ Saudi friends arrived at the lagoon. There were a few men, two fully covered women and some kids. The kids kind of got in the water with us but kept getting out. Eventually one of the Treehouse Guys kindly asked us to get out of the lagoon because the Saudi kids couldn’t swim with The Singer and me in the water. Ouch. All of a sudden I felt like a slutty half-naked American tourist. To make matters worse, I then had to stride out of the lagoon in my pink and white panties & mismatched bathing suit top, while the Saudi women graciously pretended not to be appalled. The Treehouse Guys were apologetic and said we could come back at night when the Saudis were gone.

Song by the River

6 September 2009 – EcoVillage - Dmit Valley, Chouf Mountains, Lebanon

Chaz met crazycool American singer chick at the campfire Saturday night. The Singer is in town from L.A., on a summer contract singing in the Beirut nightclubs. She and her friend joined Chaz and me for breakfast and we became fast friends. After breakfast, a few of our crew found ourselves at The Singer’s tent for an impromptu song...

Try this link to the video: EcoVillage Video

(link will go to Picasa where video should load)

Halfhearted Hitchhiking

6 September 2009 - Road to Beiteddine, Chouf Mountains, Lebanon.

Chaz and I decided to leave EcoVillage early Sunday and take a bus to Beiteddine. No bus came so we tried our hands at hitchhiking. [bxA] I felt silly peeling my thumb up slowly out of a lazy fist as the cars swept by, leaving us in a warm windy wake of rejection. It's times like these I miss Alyssa's long blond hair and short tan skirt (though she and I never hitchhiked, for the record.) I'm not sure our thumbs were actually up when a guy in an Audi came to our rescue. Audi Guy had a long career as a banker in the treausry department of a Lebanese bank - said he often provided interbank loans to BofA. He lost his job after Nine Eleven, lamenting that "Bin Laden thought he was hurting America, but ..." and we reflected on all the collateral damage Nine Eleven caused in the Middle East. Audi Guy invited us to see the Cedars and his house in the mountains before dropping us in Beitaddine on his way back to Beirut. Chaz stays on course a lot more diligently than Alyssa and I ever did, so we declined the offer. Audi Guy dropped us 5km away from Beiteddine , where we failed miserably at hitchhiking and finally got a bus about 50 meters from the town.

At one of the churches, we met a French Canadian Lebanese Woman who works in Kurdistan for an oil company (that was in the Houston E&P portfolio) and knows a few Houstonians. She insisted we call her later so she and her friend could drive us back to Beirut. We tried to hitch to Deir al-Qamar, just a few miles from Beiteddine, but ended up in a service taxi . Our poor rejected thumbs! We saw the sights and ate fresh figs from a tree overlooking the valley - Chaz is tall so the figs were plentiful (and sticky).

We were exhausted when we plopped down for an Almaza at a trendy dining spot next to the mosque. From our shady table we could see a pair of travelers on the curbside trying to hitch their way back to Beirut. Meanwhile, I phoned the French Canadian Lebanese Woman and she picked us up in a Land Rover twenty minutes later. That's my kind of hitchhiking.

Here are more pics on Picasa.

EcoVillage People

5 September 2009 - Dmit Valley, Chouf Mountains, Lebanon

On Saturday morning I threw a change of clothes and a toothbrush into my backpack and headed to Starbucks in Achrafieh to meet Chaz for a road trip. I was surprised to learn we were going camping. For once in my life [bxA] I was under-packed. I had no swimsuit, no mosquito repellent, no warm clothing, no hiking shoes, nothing. And you’ll never believe this: I survived.

Chaz’s friend is a cool French Girl who works for an NGO involving torture victims. The EcoVillage excursion was arranged by an American-Lebanese Actor Girl who recently produced a non-profit play for children that toured Lebanon all summer. Two cute boys brought guitars and sang – at least one of them was an actor in the Actor Girl’s play. There were three girls from Bristol, UK who arrived in Lebanon days ago to do a medical school internship at a Beirut hospital. The girls were all young, smart, beautiful and cool…made me think our future is in good hands.


A young Lebanon-born Palestinian guy drove Chaz and me into the mountains, indulging us frank and funny conversation about religion and culture. He lives with his parents but refuses to conform, smoking hash in his bedroom and expecting to someday have a girl in his room, “khalas, let me be.” Chaz would interject from time to time to ask things like, “How do you say ‘crap’ in Arabic? How do you say ‘mumbo jumbo’ in Arabic? What does ‘jihad’ mean?” The Palestinian guy told us that ‘jihad’ is a response in a divine form, and "sometimes violence is necessary for freedom…or to fight back…. they’re using religion for political means. And of course that’s bullshit.” At this point Chaz already knew how to say ‘bullshit’ in Arabic. Our driver spoke well of Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed while never missing the humanity of the prophets, “there was nothing holy about Mohammed. He killed people, he fucked, he shit, he had emotions just like everybody else.”

After a little confusion, a lot of stops and a minor car accident, our caravan arrived at EcoVillage late afternoon. The nine of us piled into the back of a small pick-up truck and held on for dear life during the speedy and windy drive to the main site (someone videotaped the ride - I'll try to post it) . We settled into our tents, ate dinner, opened the wine and played games.


We had some Pictionary culture clashes, like when I illustrated a “loose tooth” and my British teammate guessed “wobbly tooth.” Eventually we ended up around a campfire with the rest of the EcoVillagers, which was mostly a bunch of environmentalist NGO people. Our guys played their guitars. French NGO Girl has a beautiful voice and sang some Cranberries’ songs including ‘Zombie’ – which brought back my favorite memories of the teenage metal band in the Maldives that played mostly Metallica but also loved to play ‘Zombie.’

What’s in your head? In your head? Zombie. Zombie. Zombie

Link to my EcoVillage Photos on Picasa

Three Deadly Sins

4 September 2009 - Beirut, Lebanon, Sinners on Gouraud Street in Gemmayzeh.


Friday I went to yoga in Gemmayzeh, Beirut’s party district, which requires a little less than an hour to walk from Hamra. People tend to think I’m nuts for walking in the Beirut heat, but this was my routine in London – to walk 45 minutes through Regents Park to get to Triyoga in Primrose Hill. I like having a similar routine here.

Chaz, the American guy I met at the ruins in Palmyra, met me on the sidewalk when I finished yoga and we went to dinner down the street at Le Chef. Arezoo, a traveler I met at a film festival a few weeks ago, sms-ed from Hamra that she was ready to meet us. I abandoned my original plan to shower and change out of my yoga clothes (gross, I know) and we moved a few blocks west for a drink. Spoon was too smoky for Chaz and me so after two drinks we moved to Sinners for decadent slushy vodka drinks. I sampled Envy, Chaz sipped on Sloth and Arezoo went for Lust. After we indulged our respective sins, we wanted somewhere quiet. Walking east on Gouraud Street we saw the collision between a speeding car and the door of a Mercedes being opened by a valet parking along the curb. The speeder jumped out of his car, a yelling match ensued, the speeder jumped back into his car and sped away. Hit and run is commonplace. Minutes later we were ejected from the Green Door because Chaz was wearing shorts. Next round was at a little Italian pub that looked like an old cave/castle inside and the music was good. Around 2am Arezoo arranged for a friend to take us to B018, the big after hours dance club that would surely keep us up ‘til well past dawn. By the time our friends came to pick us up, it was after 3am and we’d decided to head home instead. I needed some sleep before meeting at 11am at Starbucks in Achrafieh, packed for an overnight road trip with Chaz and his friends.

Arezoo and I shared a taxi back to Hamra and I was asleep by 4am with the alarm set for 9am.

Living in Lebanon?

3 September 2009 - Beirut, Lebanon - Le Cremier in Achrafieh

I haven't been blogging lately because this is a travel blog and I don't really feel like I'm traveling when I'm in Beirut. I'm starting to think I maybe kinda...live here? My trip to the US combined with Alyssa's recent arrival in the UK reminded me that I don't have a home. My last home in London has been re-letted to a young, ambitious, female ibanker who was made redundant in the US but found a new job right away with a Japanese bank in London. She's living in my former flat in Marylebone, working until all hours of the night and likely ordering take-away from all my favorite restaurants. I hope she's enjoying Regents Park.

I was certain I'd return to London after this year, but I don't know anymore. So, I keep thinking no one wants to hear about what I'm doing in Beirut since I'm really just hanging out...but since everyone keeps asking me what I'm doing...I'll try to post some of the random stuff I do around here.

It's Ramadan and lots of people are fasting until iftar in the early evening. Osama starts thinking about breaking fast early in the morning, so around 9am we were chatting on msn and he suggested ice cream in Achrafieh late in the evening. So I did whatever it is I do all day to kill 12 hours - which included writing, napping and running on the Corniche - then he picked me up and we drove across the 'green line' to Achrafieh, which is the non-Ramadan side of town, Osama reminded me. Beirut has all these cool art installations up for Ramadan...and I think I saw one in Achrafieh. I'm going to have to investigate...which is another good example of things that occupy my time.

On the Border

From Bordertown

11 August 2009 - Lebanon - Syria border, driving from Beirut to Damascus.

It takes a long time to cross the border on a bus. First there's the Lebanese exit process, then the Syrian entry process.... and there aren't orderly queues - it's just a bunch of taxi drivers, bus drivers and regular drivers cramming their way to the windows to get the proper stamps. It's hot and there's nothing to do but wait.

From Bordertown

While we were milling around outside the bus, a young boy asked me to take pictures of him and the locals with my camera. The kids like to see the photo replay on the camera screen...and I think the adults get a kick out of it too.

From Bordertown

Here are are few more pics on Picasa.

The bordertown shook my hand

It was the gateway to some other land

The bordertown is the great divide

Just the gateway to some other side

I got to get across

-Chris Whitley, Bordertown

Richard & Kelli

18 August 2009 - Latakkia, Syria - Dixy Chicken

This reminded me of all my Aggie friends in Texas (and the ones that migrated to London). I didn't attend Texas A&M but [bxA] I've been to a few football games, heard all about the Dixie Chicken, and I listen to Robert Earl Keen sing about life in College Station.

When I was in the US in July, I spent a few days with Richard & Kelli, two of my favorite Aggies who now live in Charlotte, NC. We were all living in London when their son Nicholas was born (so he's like 2 and a half years old now, I think). Nicholas is the cutest happiest little guy ever - he sang in the car for over two hours...every children's song under the sun. A week later I was playing with my six year old nephew and when he suggested we employ "teamwork" on some Lego-type project, I burst into song, "What's gonna work? Teamwork!" My nephew was perplexed, "how do you know that song, Auntie Ali?"

The Dixy Chicken in Syria reminded me that I owe Richard & Keli a major thank-you note for hosting me in their lovely home...it's on my very long list of things to do. It also reminded me of that time we did a recruiting road trip to College Station - Kelli looking for junior consultants; Richard, Joe S and I looking for young banker upstarts. Did we find any?

And anything A&M always reminds me of Scott J, another favorite banker friend, who always says "howdy."

Bugs and Backpacks

18 August 2009 - Latakkia, Syria

So do you want to hear about the human-size roach in our basement hotel room in Palmyra? Or the stomach bug that bit Alyssa days ago and his finally stung me today? Maybe a little bit of both? The couch-surfing only resulted in free accommodation in Damascus - which was really great and the couch-surf host will be a friend for life. We crashed in an office he no longer uses - over a textile factory in a no frills neighborhood in the south of Damascus. On day two, we hung out in the big mosque with Hemingway Mohammed and his 22 year old Uncle Ali (I had no problem remembering his name). Then Couch Surf Host took us to his home for dinner with his wife and sisters...the food was amazing - fried aubergine and zucchini with garlic in flat bread -and I vow to find this in Beirut (Osama, this is your assignment until I return) or I'm going back to Damascus with the one remaining entry permitted by my visa. The reason I tell you this is because that was the last meal not on the suspect list. There was breakfast in the workmen's food stalls near the factory, where no one spoke English but a young cute guy rolling dough lifted two flour covered fingers for 'peace', smiled big and yelled "Obama!!!" The guys there insisted we have sweet tea in their stall and surely they were surprised when we stayed for a second cup. Alyssa and I love hanging out...no matter the language barrier. So let's assume that lovely experience did not give us the bug. Or the fruit we bought in the nearby market and possibly washed with unfiltered tap water? We both brushed our teeth with unfiltered water but we've been doing that for months.

Okay, so then there was Palmyra where the food seemed dodgy and my new American Friend said the Pancake House made him sick. Alyssa was down for the count by sunrise our first day in Palmyra. She is a major good sport about such things, I'll probably be a whiney baby upgrading to a decadent hotel in Latakkia if my condition worsens. Banker scum, I know. After the dodgy dinner in Damascus, we went to our dungeon room in the basement of the Sun Hotel, where it never gets cooler than 90 degrees F (I still haven't converted to Celsius, but it was effing hot.) There was no ventilation and an enormous roach dancing around in the sink basin. I did all my teeth brushing and face washing while the roach scurried in circles around the water flow. Pretty impressive. I wondered if that roach might be the previous guest, possibly overcome by a Kafka beetle-like Metamorphoses...so I almost wanted to feed him, pity him and ask the clerk if the previous guy ever checked out. We were there two nights, while Alyssa slept and I hung out with the American Friend, the French Guys and had dinner with the Aussie Dude, who accompanied us to Hama, which was great except he's a rugged "real" backpacker and didn't even consider getting a taxi from the bus station to the hotel, which we could not find and absolutely no one spoke English. I am sorry to say it, but the food was entirely dodgy in Hama. It's a lovely city, bustling with men while women weave around in groups wearing massively hot looking trench coats and hijab. There's a river running through the city with those wooden wheels I think I mentioned last time. The Cairo Hotel wasn't bad for a backpacker hostel, but let's face it: I'm really old and my budget of banker bonuses does not require things like five flights of stairs with a fifty pound backpack to a room with no a/c and a bathroom down the hall. Still, I'm having fun and it's always impressive to watch Alyssa plow through these difficult experiences. And the modest budget will add a few weeks to my hiatus, so that's definitely the half-full portion of the cup full of [filtered] water.

After two days of castles and ruins in the sweltering Syrian heat, we shared a taxi with a Spanish couple through the mountains to Latakkia - a Syrian version of Beirut and very interesting. We slept in, wandered the city, sipped sodas under an umbrella at a modest "cafe" on the rocks with the Med crashing at our feet. Did I mention we upgraded to a decent hotel after wandering into a massively horrible dive on recommendation of a couch surfer? There was no power so no lift and six flights of stairs to a dingy room with a shared bathroom. When we reneged based on the shared bathroom, the abrasive old man in a white gown scraped together enough English to say "but it's only one other room and they're from Holland."

We're at the Al-Cozino blowing our budget at $60 a night, but well worth it and we're not sharing a bathroom with anyone, Kafka-esque or otherwise. If we're better, tomorrow is beach day. If I'm not better, Assie will go without me. The one thing I want to do in Latakkia is get a driver to take me to the mausoleum that holds the remains of Hafez al-Asaad and his son who died in an auto accident. Doubt I can pull it off, but meanwhile I'm photographing the ubiquitous posters of Bashar, Hafez's son who took over in 2000. I met a Tall Guy in Houston who will likely be the only one interested in seeing my OCD album (I'm still working on the Lebanon album, Tall Guy).

We're trying to figure out the best way back to Lebanon - the plan is to hit Baalbeck on our way back to Beirut, but turns out there's no bus from Tripoli through Bcharre (the Cedars!) to Baalback. We're here in Latakkia one more night. As John C, the captain on Millennium would say, "we'll see how we go!"

I posted pics of Palmyra on Picasa, which should be accessible through my public albums if you can figure out how to get there from here.

If you've made it this far down the page, thanks for helping me get through the stomach bug. Can you see how not-cut-out-for-it I am?

I got chills, they're multiplying...

Hot in Hama

15 August 2009 - Hama, Syria

We were up way early this morning to get an 8am bus from Palmyra to Homs, where we got another bus to another bus to Hama. We were tagging along on an efficient itinerary set out by an Aussie guy I met in Palmyra yesterday, hence the early morning. The first bus was overcrowded and the three of us were wedged on flat console between the driver and passenger seats. There were two kids crammed on the dashboard - a five year old and a baby. When the bus started moving I took the baby on my lap and held him for the two hour ride through the desert to Homs - this made room for the five year old to stretch out flat across the dash and sleep most of the way. The perimeter of the windshield was decorated with fake flowers and short curtains. Plastic grapes dangled from the rearview mirror and Arabic music and prayers blasted through the speakers.

It's been a grueling day navigating through Homs to Hama - the weather is hot and few people speak English. The Lonely Planet map was not helpful at all, but eventually we found the Cairo Hotel, a great place for backpackers, and settled in for the afternoon. I roamed the river looking for the norias, wooden water wheels for which Hama is known. Hama is also known for a 1982 massacre that wiped out the city and from which it has never really recovered. The Aussie guy and I went to dinner in the bustling city, but the food was disappointing. Alyssa is still recovering. Tomorrow we do a day trip to a castle, then Aussie Guy leaves us for Aleppo. Ass and I think we're going to stay another night here to do a day trip to the Dead Cities on Monday.

Thats all I got. Weird not being able to post photos.

Peaceful Palmyra

14 August 2009 - Palmyra, Syria

Yesterday was a long crazy day getting to the bus in Damascus and onto to Palmyra. It's a remote desert town with amazing ruins. The tiny town has a main street, a handful of hotels and lots of locals who like to chat and welcome welcome welcome us to Syria. We roamed the ruins at sunset and Alyssa road a camel named Bob Marley. Up at 4:30am today to see the ruins at sunrise - and escape the midday heat (that sets in by 8am). Alyssa is a little under the weather so I am going it alone today. Just did a tour of the tombs and may checkout the castle at sunset. Lots of pictures to post, but it ain't happening in Syria. We're off to Aleppo tomorrow and not sure what after that. Should be back in Beirut by the 22nd.

As our friends in Damascus said many times, who knows what the future holds.

Day Two, Damascus

12 August 2009 - Damascus, Syria

All is well. Just blogging to let you know we are safe...but, really, there is no need to worry about us. The country is beautiful, the people are kind. Today we slept in, took a taxi to the Old City, explored the National Museum (really cool) and roamed around the Umayyad Mosque for a long time, hanging out with friends. Dinner tonight with the couch-surf host guy and his family.

Tomorrow, Palymyra.

P.S. I tried to upload a pic or two, but it doesn't seem to have worked.

Safe, Sound, Syria

11 August 2009 - Damascus, Syria

We were delayed a day but got into Damascus this afternoon. It's beautiful, the people are wonderful. We're safe and having a great time. Crossing the border was a bit of a long drag, but interesting and we weren't detained for any reason. Our couch-surf host put us up in a nifty little flat over a factory on the south side of the city. Taxis are way cheap and even after the drivers double the fee because we're foreigners, it's still affordable. The sim cards are dirt cheap compared to Lebanon so we've got a Syria phone number (Alyssa had to give a fingerprint for it). We met up with "Hemingway," a guy we met on the Corniche our very first time in Beirut back in April. He's studying English literature and speaks English better than we do. He only started speaking it a year ago and just told us how he spent two months memorizing 3,000 words from the Oxford dictionary. Meanwhile, I'm still working on the "ulchgh" sound in marhaba. Hemingway is hilarious and we laughed our way through the dinner, the souks and ice cream. We're having dinner with the couch-surfer host family tomorrow night.

I am only humouring myself with this post. My access to the blog is blocked so it will be a mystery to me if this posts. Maybe my favorite blog reader will get out of the kapok tree and send confirmation that this gets posted.

Technical Difficulties and Couchsurfing Syria

9 August 2009 - Beirut, Lebanon.

I really was going to blog! However, Blogger is not cooperating.

You were going to see photos of the Sporting Beach Club and our night out with Osama and his brother...and various other shots of random things we've done this week. But alas, it is not to be.

Tomorrow we hope to get up in time for a late morning bus to Damascus. We'll get there eventually. Alyssa has set the itinerary with the help of www.couchsurfing.org. We will be seeing a Syrian guy whom we met on the Corniche the day before we set sail for Cyprus in April. After that, we'll sleep on the couch of a stranger.

Not sure what the internet situation will be, but I do hope to blog from Syria. We'll be gone about two weeks.

Beirut Basics: Beach and Shawarmas

From Sporting Beach Club Day (public)

6 August 2009. Sporting Beach Club - Beirut, Lebanon.
After a few lazy days of jet lag, we dived back into Beirut on Thursday. Osama invited us to spend his half day off at Sporting Beach Club down on the Corniche. We had the Mediterranean in front of us and Beirut behind us...[bxA]

From Sporting Beach Club Day (public)

Later, Osama’s brother joined us in Hamra for a feast of shawarmas shawarmas shawarmas…

From Sporting Beach Club Day (public)

Then to Achrafieh for dessert…

From Sporting Beach Club Day (public)

Back to Hamra to witness takin' down the wall at Danny’s pub.

From Sporting Beach Club Day (public)

It’s good to be back.

There are more photos on my public album at Picassa, but am editing this from Syria and cannot access much here. In fact, it'll be a miracle if this posts - can't access my blog but somehow got into edit this entry.

Back Again, Again

4 August 2009 - Beirut-Rafic Hariri International Airport, Lebanon.

Flew from (New York) to Amman, Jordan to Beirut and took a taxi back the apartment in Hamra late last night. Slept soundly until a surprise woke me at 6am: Alyssa! In my delirium of late, I got her dates wrong and thought she was due in tonight. I slept through her arrival at the apartment at 4am, but later heard her bustling so we got up and caught up.

I'm going to try to revive the blog and post all my USA trip stuff soon. I have been blog averse these days, but the US trip was great and I should post the pics.

Williams Water Wall

21 July 2009 - Houston, Texas. Willaims Waterwall

I've been in Houston for days and haven't seen many people or done many things. I'm not eating right, sleeping right or exercising...so I feel tired all the time and what little energy I have I've spent with family and a handful of friends (a/k/a three friends). It sucks not to have enough energy to see everyone, especially since I have no excuse to be tired. But alas, I am.

I'm staying in yet another warm and comfy guest bedroom, this time in a house of friend I met traveling in 2004. I wake up each morning to massive windows overlooking the Williams Tower & Water Wall. When I was an energy banker in Houston, Williams was one of my favorite clients and host to some extraordinarily fun (and productive, I promise) bank meetings that included two nights in resorts and golf for the golfers, spa treatments for the rest of us. In fact, the windbreaker the Millennium girls shared during breezy night watches on the Indian Ocean was a Williams jacket with bank meeting details embroidered subtly on the chest....the same jacket I was wearing when Sybaris sailed up to the coast of Lebanon that first time.

Lately I take pleasure in noticing the threads of my history that weave through the experiences, continents, and relationships and seem to get richer and more colourful as life goes on. Houston feels like the canvas on which everything is painted, so it's always nice to come home and examine the brush strokes up close.

One Guitar, No Vocals

3 July 2009 - Portland, Maine, USA.

It's been raining in Maine for like 21 days so I got to use my little red umbrella that I carried with me everyday for three years in London (but didn't need every day). Wandered around downtown Portland a bit and stumbled upon a 5-piece bluegrass band doing an acoustic jam session in a music store... [bxA]

...the town is splattered with posters for an upcoming Leo Kottke show, which reminds me of my whole life since he was a regular at Rockefeller's (where I worked for years in the 90s) and I listened to One Guitar, No Vocals regularly during my three months on sailboats this year. There's a song on that album called Snorkel, which reminds me of swimming all the way around North Button island in the Andamans.

...at Yes Books I stumbled across an old copy of "A Franz Kafka Miscellany" which didn't interest me until I found nestled in the pages a very yellowed news clipping headlined 'Kafka on Picasso' that went like this:

"He is a willful distortionist," I said.

"I do not think so," said Kafka. "He only registers the deformities which have not yet penetrated our consciousness. Art is a mirror, which goes 'fast', like a watch - sometimes."

-from "Conversations with Kafka" by Gustav Ganouch