Next year, I'm turning 30

I remember my first bicycle and my first Barbie doll. I remember my first Asterix book and how I drew a wall poster out of its cover (and it looked perfect!). I remember the first 500 pieces puzzle I finished when I was just 8, and the first 200 pages book I read in just a week at the same age.

I remember fighting with my parents as I was growing old, telling them that "soon I will be old enough to listen to no one".


I remember my sweet sixteen, my first kiss and my first heartbreak. I remember thinking that I wasn't capable to love after it but then learning that no heart is ever broken and that love is a state of mind not heart.

I remember the first day at university when I met a couple of people who became the closest to my heart, people I don't see often but learned that I can lean on while miles apart. I remember all those lessons on friendship and that true friends are not whom you have known longer nor supported most. True friends are not even those who support you most neither. True friends are those who work silently, like your guardian angels, to see you happy day after day.

And I grew old...

I remember that, as years passed by, I learned to look every single morning in the mirror searching for a first wrinkle and a first white hair (and I thank God I don't have any yet!).


I remember fearing turning 30 since I was only 18... THIRTY! The big number... The big life changing year... The thirties...

And as the clock ticks, the months pass and the time approaches, I learned having a whole new positive attitude about my thirties:

I grew up, not old. I learned. I matured. The little girl in me turned into a lady. I learned that the wrinkles are too scared to appear on my face. And that no matter what scary load the number holds for everyone, when I turn thirty, I will be the youngest among all the thirty-something people!

That sound...

It’s night. It’s cold. It’s late. I have work tomorrow and it’s time to get some sleep. I go to bed. Exhausted, I expect myself to sleep. I close my eyes. And wait. I keep waiting for the sleep to come. I wait, and wait, and wait. It doesn’t. Instead, there are thoughts of you that fill my mind. Allez, oust! Get out of my mind. I want to sleep. To rest. To hope. To dream. I want to see a happy me. Maybe even with a happy you. I want to dance under the rain. Kiss you as if it’s true. I want to laugh. To run. To go wild. I want to hug you for a long time, until the end of time. I want to touch you. Feel you close to me. Sleep on your shoulder. I want to go to bed without making love and hug to sleep, because this is what perfection is all about: a relationship that is far from being physical. I want to hold your hand under the table when we’re out. I want to sneak away from everyone just to have a moment with you alone. I want to wake up to your voice. Sleep to your sweet dreams wishes. I want to surprise you with gifts and fill your life with sweet memories. I want to shout and argue with you. I want to fight over silly things. Cry. Scream. Cry again. Get mad. So mad. I want to break-up and make-up again. I want to hug you and whisper my feelings to your ears.

I want to whisper the exact words that my pillow whispers to my ears, every night, when I go to bed. Those sweet words. That forbidden feeling. Those sounds…That sound… The sound of missing you!

Here comes.... my Summer Nightmare!

Here comes the bride.
Here comes the groom.
And here comes my yearly summer nightmare!

3a2belik tante!
Yalla himmiya wlo!
Aymatan badna nifrah minnik?

Having got enough from all the wedding "cliches" and kilograms of "3a2belik" that I get at each and every wedding, I decided to attend a few of a long list of weddings this summer.

I have two piles of cards in my room, one of the weddings I will attend, and another that I will not (most of those being family ones, logically!).
Those who live in Lebanon probably would know why I'm running away from  the family weddings... All the fix-up, nosey questions, "where's your date" exclamations, "let me introduce you to my son"...

And just when I thought it was all that I could get, just when I thought the 2 kilos of "3a2belik" were really enough, my gramma (whom I really adore!) called me today:

- Teta, 3rifti min rah yitjawaz?
- Kheir! (Me all excited thinking it was one of my old friends in her neighborhood or something!)
- Ya teta jeboule el invitation. W 3ezminik inte kamein! Baddik trou7e eh?
- Kheir teta. Kheir... Min rah yitjawaz?
- Wlik ibin binit 3ammo la khayyo la ibin jiran 3amma la cousinit bayyik!
- huh?
- Ba3ref teta ba3ref! Inte aslan ma bta3irfiyoun! W hinne bya3irfouke zghire! Bass mousirrin tije 3al 3iris. Ou3a ma trou7i ya teta! Ana iltillo la Fouad (my dad) anno Maya lezim trou7... Hole wejbeit w ba3dein ma fiya shi, khalliyoun yshoufo el jameil killo!
- Teta merci. Bass anno mish fadye!
- Ou3a ya teta! Ana sirit bi ekhir 3omre w b7ebbik add el dine... Rou7e w lbise w dwikhiyoun, ok? Ou3a ma trou7e ya teta!

(Tout tout tout tout!)
A sudden line cut. I could swear it wasn't intentional to cut the silly conversation but I couldn't!
Once she called back, it was my father's turn to pick that phone up and explain slowly to his mother that I am not running any pageant competition and that this card goes right into the "not attending" wedding cards pile!

3a aseis ma bi2assina the "3a2belkoun" that we, singles, get at each wedding... We should now live with the "walk the wedding walkway" comments...

What's hidden for next summer?
 

I don’t want to become a Christian Lebanese!

Dear Lebanese,

All of you out there!

Today I want to share with you a story, my story.

I grew-up in a pretty reserved household. My parents (like most of yours) tried to teach me everything good.  They taught me to respect everyone no matter what his religion or skin color is, no matter what nationality he held or cultural background he had.

However, my parents (like most of yours) did not act according to their own lessons. I grew up between “Hana' misilmé bass gheir! Hiyyé mazbout sinniyé bass ahla gheir.” and a “ma byenwasa2 fiyoun hole! Kill el drouz ma byenwasa2 fiyoun!" (no need to mention we are Christians, I guess you readers figured that out by now!).

Then as years passed I started developing, with no control on it, a certain differentiation between social classes, skin colors, nationalities and religions… until I was around 16 or 17.  At that age and with the internet era starting to boom, me starting to grow up and choose my own reading of articles and books, developing friendships with different nationalities and religions, I started to think in a more civilized way (mich 3ayb el wahad yi3tirif… ballashit biwa'ta sir hadariyé!).

My friends circle turned from a 100% Christian/Lebanese one to a multi-nationalities/multi-religious ones. I even read the Kur’an and asked my Muslim friends about their religion in order not to offend them with my actions; I not only embraced having friends from a different belief than mine, I wanted to work on those friendships just like any other friendship I had and that includes respecting other religions as I respect my own.

Why am I telling you all this? Well let’s put it this way! It was hard to change. When you grow-up learning one thing and decide to change it when you reach maturity, it’s hard. And to reach a point where your original instinct is edited due to your conviction it is even harder.

Today, I know that even with a Civil War around the corner nothing will make me change my way of thinking or believing or behaving. Nothing will make me drop my friends no matter where they come from and what religion they belong to.

But I also know I want badly to still be able to hang out with them without fearing my life or theirs. I want to go down to Hamra Street for a drink on Friday night while keeping the cross around my neck. I want to go to Harrissa with my veiled girlfriend. I want to teach my children that Christianity is their belief, their religion, not their identity.

I want to live my Christianity as my belief, my religion… not my identity.

I don’t want to become a Christian Lebanese. I want to remain Lebanese. That's all!

Maya

Tell me who your friends are...

I grew up believing that the more good people I have around me, the better image I will reflect of myself.

And a while ago, someone I know (and love) did something socially unacceptable (that I even did not accept). But I refused to remove this person from my friend zone. And here is why...

I am a girl who believes that everyone is nice until proven opposite.
I am someone who turns her back to her enemies instead of hurting them back; that's God's job after all, not mine.
I do not "use" people; not emotionally, socially and definitely not financially.
But above all those, I am a person who does not believe in social tags and who learned that hanging-up with "socially accepted" people is just another social tag.

Looking at my friends, I have them all. I have those who are nerds and accumulate degree after another, I have the party freaks who know every PR person in town (they can get us anywhere at anytime!), I have the family lovers, the eternal single ones, the ones who are faithful no matter what, the ones who are not (...no matter what). I have those who are ambitious, those who are not. I have the christians and the muslims. The religious and the not so religious. Those who want to marry a millionaire, those who want a guy they control not a man they support. I have those who, at 28, still believe in fairy tales and those who, at 25, know that love is a matter of conviction in the other person. I have those still cry at Disney movies (oh no! That would actually be me) and those who never even watched Mickey Mouse.

I have a little bit of everything. A little bit of everyone. The good. The bad.

If I was to listen to the society I come from? I would be all of the above.

And if I am (all of the above), then I would seriously be suffering of some kind of schizophrenia... the serious kind!

I am just myself. Me.A definition of my own actually.

And my friends?
They are different from me but I love each and everyone of them. For who they are.

It's just them.
Tell me who your friends are, I tell you NOT who you are.

I tell you simply you're a good friend who embraces all people... because everyone hides something good deep inside...

Wlak hiyyé aslan isma Beirut!

Hamra? Anno el Gemayzé battalit mniha ye3né?
Hinné wein w nehna wein… ana wlédé ma baddé yerbo ma3oun!
Lah ya binté, chou n2ata3o el chabeib el masihiyyé bil balad?
Baddik todharé ma3 wahad minnoun, stoflé. Bass sorry ana 3a bayté ma bifout… On dine dans un restaurant.
Tu as vu la fille de Christian jarna? khatabit wa7ad Indien ! Un indien… ma 3irfit tlé’é un Libanais ni un Français!
Ana bass baddé ifham chou byitla3o bya3imlo bi Harrissa w Saint Charbel!
Ma na2ayti gheir muslim ?! ma kein fiké tle’ilik chi wahad orthodox masalan ? 3milte adrab min binta la Jeanette!

Eh walla ya Jeanette !

I walk down the streets of Beirut often to hear the above statements and feel my heart burning inside. As if we did not have enough already. As if civil war did not burn our childhood, our parent lives, their childhood, our grand-parents youth. As if civil war did not burn the whole country.

There was war. True. But it’s over now. Also true. So I wonder… Why do we still live raising our children on racism? Why do we still differenciate people according to their religion, skin color, nationality, etc?

Blondes are shallow. Philippinas make good house helpers (but we call them maids… mitil bil 3aser el hajaré!). Indians are ruling the Gulf region, they eat curry and nod their heads. Russians are prostitutes. French live in dirt. Italians are mafia mobs. Germans are scrooge. Bahrainis are bad and uneducated people. Saudis are worst (Their Harvard degrees prove it!). Egyptians are funny and stupid.

Lebanese rock!

Well, they rock to a certain extend! They rock as long as they belong to our religion. Better, they rock as long that they belong to the same religious sect that we belong to. 

Gharbiyyé, shar’iyyé. 
Sunnite, Shiite, Maronite, Orthodoxe…
Byerka3 aw bisallib.
Bisallib bil khamsé aw bil tleté!

Ibné ma bifout 3a hal jemi3.
Binté ma bkhalliya t2addis 3inid el Orthodoxe !

Khallina bil Gemayzé lyom… baléha nazlit el Hamra… el Hamra bil gharbiyyé !

Wlik akh ya Jeanette… and we want to call this, a country ?
Mich 3ayb?

Gharbiyyé. Shar2iyyé. Haydé Beirut ya jame3a!

Wlak mich 3a aseis el “libneiné” msa2af w m3allam w byet3eyash ma3 el kill?

Isma Beirut! Tout court!

Will I survive Friday the 13th?

Between myth and superstition it’s Friday the 13^th again!  And if everything in Lebanon acts crazy when it rains (phone lines, internet connections, drivers, people, etc…), then you can’t come to imagine how a superstitious Lebanese can spend every 13^th of the month… now how about Friday the 13^th?

It’s needless to say that the Lebanese can get superstitious about anything and everything so below is a guideline for spending a day away from your friggatriskaidekaphobia!

1. Get out from the left side of the bed in the morning, the right side brings bad luck.
2. Before you move out of the room, don’t forget to wear that little blue broche (kharzé zar’a) your grandmother got you when you were born. It will keep the “bad eye” away for the day…3ayn el hasoud tibla bil 3ama!
3. While washing your face, recite and bad dream out loud. The water will take it away with it and any probability of it coming true will fade!
4. Leave the house with your right foot (obviously, the left one brings bad luck today!).
5. Black is your official enemy for today. Seeing black will make your days black (and sad) for a long time. Now if your car is black, use a cab!
6. Fall in-love with blue today! Unlike black, blue can keep away bad eye and bring good luck… You know they even advise brides to wear something blue on their wedding day no? Where did you think that comes from?!
7. During lunch time, order eggplants with your colleagues and try to have the last bite.  They say if you share eggplants, the last bite brings good luck (OMG! I don’t eat eggplants, will I die today?).
8. Keep salt with you during the day. For every bad news you hear (lasamah allah akid), pour a little in your left hand and throw them over your right shoulder (or was it right, hand left shoulder… mmmm I don’t remember so be safe and try both!).
9. If your day seem to be going bad, you can prepare yourself a Turkish coffee pot, fill a cup (shaffé works better) and let it spill.  Spilling coffee brings good luck and luck is much needed on such a day!PS: ONLY Turkish coffee works!
10. During this day, do not walk by any black cat, break any glass, pass under any ladder, do not clean after sunset, so not count the stars, do not leave your shoes bottom facing up after you remove them, do not cut your nails at night…
11. And before you go to bed at night, do not look in the mirror… because you’ll look too stupid for believing in the superstition of Friday the 13^th!