that something special

I took a trip outside Beirut this weekend. I drove two hours north and then west up the mountain all the way to Bcharreh, a village right below the Cedars. I am embarrassed to say that in 26 years, this was the first time I saw our national emblem. But everything I discovered on that little trip reminded me that our country is so much bigger and richer than the streets of Gemmayzeh and Hamra.

From the Kadisha valley to the river walking in the woods picking wild berries and grapes, to the highest peak of the Middle-East where we stared into the vastness and watched the sun set. There's the cedar tree seed which you break to get the sap on your fingers and breathe in the smell of cedars. There's the purple flower which girls used to wear as earrings, and the fresh water source that's freezing cold. And the villagers that are so friendly and considerate even the chef making me a sandwich made me one with less bread then the boys'...  And then, there was that view. Late afternoon, in the month of August, all the clouds gather in the crevice and if you just drive a few minutes up the mountain, then you find yourself way above the clouds, the sun shining and the sky clear blue. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on. And it felt like I was in heaven, looking down at the earth from above the clouds.

I guess sometimes you don't have to go that far to find that something special. Now I'm going to make it my mission to discover all these beautiful places in Lebanon that I've heard about and never bothered to visit, always postponing or waiting for the right occasion. But then you go and you wonder why on earth you waited this long to do it. Maybe it's a cliche thing to say, but after views like that you can only be in a cheesy cliche mood. And from time to time, that's a good thing.

a Lebanese weekend

I want to tell you about my weekend. Mostly because it's the first weekend in 4 months where we weren't on set shooting for "Beirut I love You" and I was having some serious withdrawal symptoms. But then again, it's summer, and I haven't had a summer-like weekend yet so I went all in.

Friday night, I had dinner with one of my closest friends who was here "de passage," for a wedding of course, her seventh of the season. We did the whole "let's catch up in an hour and half" thing when you just give the highlights of the last few months and, in perspective, so many stories that felt important along the way don't make it to the final cut. Then I spruced up my  attire, adding high-heels and gold earrings in order to enter the epic Lalaland of Skybar. I usually risk it once a year, just so I can reaffirm my hatred when friends try to convince me to go. That way I can say with absolute certainty that yes, I still hate it as much as last year, and no, I will not be coming next Friday. Now I know it's part of our national pride or something, and should probably be in the runner against the Jeita Grotto for the Wonders of the World thing, but I hate it. And it's not Skybar itself that I hate, because it's a beautiful place, obviously, but that music; and those new screens with the light shows; and the fire; it's like what one of my friends called it "a modern day circus." Seriously, I know us Lebanese love to go and look at each other, males riveted by females wearing short dresses or mini-shorts, and girls starring at each other always finding a way to put down the beautiful girl who just walked in because "her toes are crooked" or "she's not a real blond" or "she actually has a fat ass if you look at it closely." And I'm not saying I've never done it, I'm just saying I hate that I actually stand there and participate.  Of course it wasn't all bad --mis-a-part my poor feet that really aren't used to a night in high-heels.

On Saturday, we got ourselves up early and were at our favorite summer place, Jammal, by lunchtime. It's an annual tradition for us to gather on the pebbles, tables and chairs in the water, eating fish until we burst and drinking Arak and/or Rose for about seven hours. There's usually 20 of us harassing the poor waiters assigned to our table. We laughed about each others sex lives (well mine mostly) and tried to be polite in front of newcomers, the respective dates of some of my friends --and we came to the  realization that all the guys on the table were attached, and all the girls (who weren't their girlfriends) were single. Makes you wonder. But every year people have come and gone from that table on the pebbles --some are gone for good; others, perhaps, have joined for good, but the core is always the same.

We stopped by McDonalds on the way back and each ate a full meal, with supersized fries and cokes. And we all felt like throwing up afterwards.

Now Saturday night was a whole new experience for me, as I attended a gay birthday house party. Don't get me wrong, three of my closest friends are gay and I love them to pieces, but this was still an experience. First of all, we don't have that many house parties in Beirut. Second of all, there was an agglomeration of thirty guys in a super cool and neat apartment, with a buffet of neatly cut and shaped fruit on the table. And I had the best time. Samantha, an Italian hot-stud who I so wish wasn't gay, told us the story about when his mama came to Lebanon and wanted to visit Sabra and Chatila wearing Chanel from head to toe and a big summer hat. Now imagine him telling this story with an Italian accent. Priceless.

On Sunday, my eternal brunch buddy came back to the surface after months of neglect. I went with him and Classy to have lunch at Tawlet. We spent the afternoon in the AC watching the most depressing movie of the year, Winter's Bone, and then we had to put thirty minutes of Gad Elmaleh just to change our moods.

At night, it was the BILU reunion [Beirut I Love You cast and crew] since I wasn't the only one having withdrawal symptoms. We went to have dinner in Bikfaya, at our director's beautiful house. We ate, we drank, we had a guitar. And we were all in the garden singing Bob Dylan and the Beatles and apart from the random beetles and insects that scared the shit out of me a few times, it was perfect. And this is going to sound cheesy but that's ok, we could all use a small amount of cheesy in our lives --we were singing Coldplay's "Beautiful World" and I had a thought: I had a very Lebanese weekend, from one extreme to the other. But what makes it Lebanese isn't Skybar or Batroun or Tawlet or Bikfaya. It's the human connection we encounter everywhere we go.

Cause everybody here's got somebody to lean on.

In perspective

I'm going to allow myself to go off topic this once.
Today I don't feel like making some witty remark about how the Rats have an excel sheet comparing their penis size to their height in percentages (I saw it with my own two eyes), or how women all over the country are preparing for the arrival of a fresh shipment of males. Although it would be fun to tackle, today I want to put things in perspective.
Last night, my 16-year-old cousin arrived from Chicago. She has been there for the last ten weeks, in a rehabilitation center, working on regaining every function in her body. Three months ago she fell off her horse, broke a cervical vertebrae, and lost everything we take for granted every day, like the ability to move her fingers, her arms, sit up, stand up, move her toes, walk a step.
Now she can already stand up on her own, take steps with a walker, and regained almost all of her arms and hands' functions. And in a couple of months we all know she will be on her feet again, dancing away. It's a miracle. But what is even more of a miracle, is to look at this young girl's face and see her smile. From day one, stuck in intensive care with a tube down her throat for days, this little Princess gave us the most beautiful smile in the world. It's so full of positive energy, that you can feel her magical spirit all around, and it's contagious. There is no doubt in my mind that her attitude is what helped her defy the odds of spinal cord injury and fight for her right to stand up and walk again.
When I saw her yesterday after her 24 hours of flying, she looked more beautiful then ever. I thought of all the stupid, silly things I complain about every day, and I put them in perspective. Here I was standing in front of my 16-year-old cousin sitting in a wheel-chair, exhausted, but still looking happier than I've ever felt. Made me feel so small.
Some people say you have to stop and look around you from time to time, because there are always things happening, or people in your life teaching you things without you even realizing it. Yesterday I learnt that even though life can take away every function in your body, it can't take away your spirit.
And don't think it stops here. Even though she's been in Chicago working her ass off for the last two months, this cheeky little girl is back with dates lined up with two different guys.
We've got a lot to learn.