To My Beirut

I recently returned from a trip abroad. I went to Italy, London, and of course... Beirut.

I miss it more than I can describe.

We have a house in Lebanon. It's high up on the side of a mountain, and from it there is the most beautiful view one can imagine. You can see all of the northern suburbs of Beirut- Jounieh, Dbayeh, Ghazir. And way off into the distance, you can see the lights of Beirut, jutting out into the Mediterranean. From inside my house, we have sliding glass doors that lead out onto large balconies. But if you are in the right place inside... you look outside, and it seems like you are floating above everything.

I could stand there for hours. Maybe forever, and watch the cars move up and down the coast. I could watch, as the sun rises over the mountainside, and sets on the sea. here is a view of it at night:



As you can see, the view is quite stunning.

But it is not just this view that I miss. I miss the anonymity, the feeling of blending in with people who look like me. Olive skin, black hair... I miss the food, which I love so much and which stirs in me, emotions of my childhood, my youth, my heritage and my blood. I miss the Arabic music, and the amazing energy that is there. Its a different energy. I miss the resilient people, who have worry and happiness etched into their faces all the time. They have so much to worry about; living in a nation without stability or a clear future. But they live. They dance, they celebrate, and they say, "ma leysh" (its okay) and continue on with their lives.

There are fireworks every day in Lebanon. I can see them from our balcony. There are pristine beaches in the south, where the sun shines all the time. There is the corniche, which is lined with palm trees, walkers, runners, students, Lebanese, Saudis, Americans, and everything between.

The smell of the falafel and shawarma shops wafting in the air. The noise of the constant traffic that rumbles through Beirut without end. The constant boom boom boom of the bass at some of the world's hottest and most exclusive clubs. Rolls Royces and Lamborghinis parked right next to taxis that are painted four different colors.

Coming back from a vacation like the one I had - with my best friend with me - is like being thrown into an ice bath. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, sort of. And as I flew westward, I felt the stress and worry trickle back towards me. First as I was pulled away from the mountains and beaches of Lebanon. And then as we crossed the Atlantic ocean into the Americas.... and now I sit here, worrying about this and that. Wishing to board the next plane that hops the Ocean. Make it Paris, make it London or Munich. But after that make it Beirut......

But still, I'll miss the feeling of floating...from my house on the mountainside.