A Lebanese Anecdote

Time for a random, genuinely Lebanese anecdote. This may seem a bit silly, but this woman brightened my day with a laugh this morning. If you are not Lebanese, there is a rare probability that you have ever experienced a chronic power cut, and this little tale will seem baffling to you, but if you are, this is exactly the common everyday story you may usually encounter.

A little background for the foreigners first: To avoid numbing details, I will just tell you that due to repeated strikes and raids over power supply stations, and due to constant shortage in fuel, we don’t get electricity in Lebanon 24/7; instead, the small amount of power supplied is divided between the various areas with the power being cut anywhere between 3 and 24 hours per day depending on the region on a daily basis.

The above hopefully explains why the revered power company in Lebanon receives countless phone calls every day from complaining citizens hoping for an explanation as to why the power was cut longer than usual today, or why the broken transmitter hasn’t been fixed yet, etc…

Now, we live near the power company’s main branch in the capital, and thus, we share with it the same area code, as well as the same first four digits and, as luck would have it, the sixth or last digit in the phone number too. This means that our home number differs in a mere digit to the company’s, and as luck would have it once again, it seems that many, many years ago, the company had what feels like millions of billing forms printed out with the wrong fifth digit assigned in the number listed as its hotline on the bottom of the form. The fifth digit printed coincides with ours.

Maybe the company has since printed new forms, or maybe it is still using its stash of old ones with our digits, but at any rate, it seems that there is a huge amount of people still referring to those forms and dialing our home number every time they encounter additional power trouble or simply feel like ranting over their broken washing machines, their melting ice cream or their wasted leftovers.

I would say 50% of the calls we get at home are meant for the company, and every single day we are subjected to hundreds of ever so funny yet saddening insults before we get the chance to tell people on the other end of the line that they dialed the wrong number. And even then, most people don’t believe us and suggest that we are indeed the company and that we are just making pranks on them and that this is simply outrageous of us. Imagine! J

My brother recorded his voice on the answering machine a while back, and since then, many callers who get the voice mail in which my brother sings Na na na nan a, we are not home, leave us a messaaageee – in Arabic of course and with irreparable cords – leave us really, and I mean really angry messages, which are hilarious to hear, since even with that silly voice recording, they still believe that the power company is mocking them J

So if you have ever wondered – which you probably haven’t – what an upside down prank call might be like, this is it.

But let me get to the story before I forget it.

This morning, the phone rang and I picked it up. The 50 something lady on the other end of the line didn’t even bother with a hello before unleashing her wrath over the power company, its employees, the government, the minister, the citizens, etc…You name it and you can bet she insulted it. And when she finally had the courtesy of taking a breath between rants, I took the opportunity to calmly try and explain the situation, which she laughingly interrupted saying: I know my dear, I know it is the wrong number, I have called here before and you have explained it to me already, and she went on heartily laughing. Baffled and completely dubious, I inquired as to why she would call us again if she indeed knew all about it, to which she replied: Well at least with you someone picks up!

No comment J The end.

The Power of Time

While making my regular FB tour tonight, I was struck by a famous Buddha quote which read: “The trouble is, you think you have time.” I sat there contemplating the sentence for what seemed forever, and then I realized I better stop staring and move on to something else before time with its mighty wings dares steal even more precious moments while I keep going unaware of its effects and its boldness.  

The concept of time has been consuming me for 3 days now, and I feel the need to virtually arrange my thoughts on paper in hope of settling an already busy mind. It all started when I discovered a white hair in my eyebrow while fixing my makeup in the car. I froze for an eternity before I started the engine and went straight to my beautician to pluck it out.

I had never been aware of how scary it would be for me to start the aging process. Sure I have always joked about it, but not once - I am now aware - have I truly gave it a sincere thought. Somehow I had never believed that I would ever grow old, or older. I had always had the sense that one way or another, my life would be over by the time I was thirty. And with thirty so close now, a lot downed on me in a single moment.

The sense of being underachieved could be tragically thrown out of proportion when you spot your first white hair. The feeling that you have done way too little in contrast with your potential sets in, and a whole lot of drama starts buzzing in your head, robbing you a bit more of what little sanity you were still trying to maintain.  

I sit here thinking of whys and what ifs. I sit with remorse, with regrets. I feel threatened by missed opportunities and lack of effort. And as one thought gets chained to the other, I start seeing lack of ambition, lack of spirit and serious lack of motivation in my past, and sadly, in my present as well. Melancholic dilemmas start clouding me and a morose state takes over my being. Have I ever really tried achieving a goal or fulfilling a dream? Have I ever given anything my all? Have I ever compromised enough or have I ever, to the contrary, refused to compromise? Have I been passionate, in the true sense of the word, about something in my life so far? The answer saddens me even more, it empties me of any sympathy I still had for myself. Had I ever been sincerely passionate and truly determined, I wouldn’t be lamenting myself now.

Tonight I pray for the ability to use the fleeting gift of time more wisely. I pray for greater determination and second chances. I pray for patience and opportunity. I pray for knowledge and feasibility. I pray for inspiration and enthusiasm. For hope and faith. For strength and drive. For passion, most of all, because love is nothing without it, and what a shame it would be to waste love.

Tonight I strive to read more and procrastinate less. I strive to do more and talk less. To produce more while nagging less. To appreciate what I already have. To cherish what I have already achieved. To be thankful for the people already surrounding me. For without gratefulness to what I am lucky to have now, I don’t deserve what I may accomplish in the future and will never know how to enjoy it.    

A Place In My Heart For Dubai

I am not sure where to start to describe this trip. It wasn’t planned, it was bordering messy even, but aren’t all the best endeavors a result of spontaneity and impulsiveness?

It all began with a silly FB comment I made in February in which I told my friend who is residing in Dubai that it simply isn’t fair for her to get the chance to see Julio Iglesias’s concert without me, and since it was almost my birthday, my good friend decided that my gift would be a ticket to attend the concert with her!

And thus hasty preparations were on the way as I looked for the cheapest ticket possible and put the visa’s acquiring in the hands of the travel agent while I busied myself with extra work to go on the trip with a clear head and a clearer conscience.

I had been longing for a vacation for quite a while, and saw this trip as my opportunity to finally do it, and so I decided I better save my money to indulge in my shopping there, but as usual, whilst the intentions were there, the goal remained unattainable in my case; I mean what did you expect? Lebanon was on sale in February and I simply couldn’t help squandering my earnings here and there. I did a more refined job saving in March though and went to Dubai ready to shop!

Enough introductions already! Long story short, I made it there after a long, and I mean long work shift and a car breakdown. I slept throughout the entire plane trip, except for the little hassle caused by the 50 something year old passenger sitting next to me as she kept hovering over me to look at the nothing beneath us from the window.

Dubai at first glance wowed me. I looked in awe at the skyscrapers towering above me, and saw the modernity of the architecture all around me with wonder. All the buildings on both sides of Cheikh Zayed’s highway made the skyscrapers’ district in Qatar look like a small, far away oasis compared to the majesty of Dubai.

My 6 days and 5 nights spent as my friends’ guest were packed with shopping and culinary experiences by day and clubbing by night. My feet asked for mercy after pacing twice through the classic Ibn Battouta mall and later ached while restlessly wandering inside the luxurious Dubai mall. Souk el Bahar also proved to be an excellent place to shop for souvenirs and trinkets.

Along with the shopping came the sightseeing, the restaurants and the coffee breaks which were all marvelous and worth the while; Burj Khalifa and Burj el Arab, the fountain show, and of course, Jumeirah with its various outlets to name a few.

During the nights, I came to see the other face of that beautiful city. Dubai offered me a wide range of choices when it came to nightlife, and each club I tried had a unique feel and a distinguished ambiance to it. 360, Barasti, the Belgium Beer Café, Trader Vic’s and People all were up to the standards if not above them. The mix of nationalities only increased the glamor of these places, and the obvious over enjoyment painted on everybody’s face made these venues all the more appealing.

Julio’s concert was magical, whimsical and touchy. I felt suspended in time as I listened to his legendary voice serenading me with my childhood’s poetry. It was a concert to remember with a pinch in the heart as my beloved idol poured all of his sentimentality in song, tango and poignant anecdotes. I feel lucky for having been able to witness such greatness in my lifetime.

The beach experience was also fulfilling as I plunged my toes in the white clean sand and tanned under the blazing sun between dips in the clear blue water. It was a very relaxing excursion and one I will yearn for dearly, as such splendor is hard to find.

In between plans, I spent a good part of my time there sitting peacefully on the yard bench with my coffee mug and Davidoff cigarettes. It helped me gather my thoughts and gave me the opportunity to enjoy a lot of quality time with my friend, to whom I wish to repeat my endless thanks.

All in all, it was a trip that I will look back to with longing for a long time. I shall always remember it with fondness, and nostalgia of course, as it is a feeling I find hard to shake regardless the topic.

Dubai, you will be missed…

At The Mercy of My Fingers

I know you are going to say this is just too much! We have better things to do than reading a blogger’s jabbering every other night! But I can’t help it, my fingers just won’t rest, they refuse to stay away from the keyboard. I have tried, I swear I did. I must have clicked on those stupid solitaire cards over twelve thousand times tonight, and yet my fingers don’t seem to have had their satiety. My pink little mouse that looks as if it is a hand-me-down from an 8 year old girly girl has been begging me to stop restlessly clicking on it for over 2 hours, and yet my fingers refuse to keep away from my broken laptop.

Something in me has woken up from its deep, long slumber this week. Something in me has shaken me up, and like a somnambulist, I found myself picking up on my reading where I had left off. The pleasure of those books must have ticked off the ink swelling in the tips of my fingers.

Something in me has realized that fantasies are just what they are, and reality must set in sometime. My feelings about this statement are ambivalent. I am not sure how much I prefer living my reality as opposed to dreaming my fancy.

I am trying to take serious steps towards fulfilling the promise I had made to myself, the one in which I swore to live more, to do more, to be more; but as the saying goes, one hand cannot clap on its own, and without a serious entourage and excellent company round the clock, I am afraid my hands not only won’t clap, they are also tied, tied to a bittersweet reality that keeps me going in vicious circles of fabulous far away friends, and omnipresent insignificant everyday companions who make me feel like a cat lady.

Tonight I can’t help but imagining myself some 30 years from now still sitting in this chair, sipping from this same hideous cup of coffee, only by then I would be ordering decaf instead; I foresee uncontrollably shaky hands in my future and a pile of heart medicine. I see glasses so thick they seriously could pass as the bottoms of coca cola bottles. I see a big house filled to its brim with books read once and only once, with rusty yellowish notebooks scattered all over the place, and with little, almost invisible insects crawling and making tiny nests inside the walls of an imagination that never knew where its door knob was.

I see neighborhood kids practicing their prank skills on me. I see myself tutoring students I wish I could spank to make a living.

I see nephews and nieces coming to check on me every once in a while. I hear them complaining about the stench of the house. I see myself cracking the windows once they have left. I see myself trying to look presentable and driving my 2005 Polo – 30 years from now – to Sassine Square. I see young waitresses puffing and rolling their eyes at my sight.

I sit here seriously wishing I knew how to change this inevitable prospect, and whilst my imagination aids me, my reality refuses to cope. Somehow I wish the world would rearrange itself to suit my lazy ass. And to end this with a somewhat less pessimistic thought, just wait and watch it do it!