Until Next Time

I'm back in my spot of contemplation as I await my departure from Lebanon. Sitting at the same computer in the Centre d'Affaires in the Cedar Lounge at Beirut International Airport, I always like to take a minute to appreciate my time in Lebanon before boarding my flight to Frankfurt.

There really is nothing else like family. My cousin Raymond said it best this evening as we sat on his balcony looking out over Roumieh. He said that all of us may have different experiences and different viewpoints, but when we sit together we can see something special in each other that runs in our blood. Flatteringly, he remarked how special it is to have a cousin like me that three generations after leaving Lebanon can still feel the spirit of this country and our family. After about 10 days of hearing my cousins say less than loving words about my other country, it was a great feeling to hear Raymond raise a toast "to Lebanon, to the US, and to the greatest cousin in the world."

I don't know if his last comment was quite accurate, but maybe he was talking about someone else. Regardless, it is me that is unbelievably fortunate to have such a large group of distant relatives that so willingly welcome me as part of the family. I am even more fortunate to have an immediate family that is close and truly care for each other, but there is something particularly gratifying about returning to one's roots. The feeling grows stronger as one begins to understand those roots. It is as if the tiny frail ends of a tree root have suddenly found new nourishment and grow strong, wrapping themselves around the source of this nourishment.

My younger cousin, Jean Charbel, Raymond's son, asked me today if I would stay in Lebanon forever. "Why you have to go back? Stay here. We have many universities in Lebanon." I promised him that I would try to come back next summer, but he insisted that next month would be better. The prophetic youth then told me that someday I would live in Lebanon with a beautiful wife and a happy family. I told him that I would like that very much.

So here I am again with such mixed feelings, preparing to leave one home to return to another. Each time I visit Lebanon, I become a little more aware of the country's shortcomings and the difficulties of living in a place like this, but at the same time, I grow more and more attached to the people and the culture. There is no problem or defect that Lebanon could ever have that could sever my love for this country. It is a place like no other, and it will always be part of me.

For tonight, Lebanon, I say, "Until next time."

The Typhoon Broke My Umbrella

The Star Ferry Terminal and Hong Kong Skyline

Crossing the bridge from Kowloon to Lantau Island on my way to the airport, the Hong Kong “Symphony of Lights” illuminated the island outside the car window. The sky scrapers were flickering with colored lights while lasers danced in the sky. It was a fitting farewell from Hong Kong and Asia. In a few short hours, I would be on board my Singapore Airlines flight to San Francisco - returning to American soil for the first time in almost three months. My heart raced with anticipation of any number of things: the excitement of flying my favorite airline in the world, getting closer to home, catching up with old friends and family, starting school, wondering when and where my next trip will take me.

My short stay in Hong Kong was pleasant enough. I can’t say I fell in love with the city, but I enjoyed myself and would be happy to return someday. I spent my first day wandering around the city in the dismal pre-typhoon weather. All of the shopping malls and various points around the city had signs stating that signal 3 had been raised for the Special Administrative Region, i.e. a typhoon was anticipated to hit within 12 hours. I had an umbrella with me, but less than an hour after leaving the hotel, a gust of wind literally ripped my umbrella to pieces. The metal frame of the umbrella had snapped into multiple pieces, and the fabric had ripped. I tossed the umbrella in the nearest garbage can and continued wandering around the harbor in the wet, windy weather. I paused to snap some photos of the statue of Bruce Lee along the Avenue of Stars.

The next day, I felt bored with Hong Kong already. The weather was still wet, sticky and cloudy, so my outdoor activities were limited, and I just wasn’t in the mood for museums. In the evening, I decided to go ahead and hop over to Macau. I walked down to the ferry terminal, grabbed a ticket, and boarded the next hydrofoil to Macau. Although the typhoon had passed without ever hitting Hong Kong, the water was still incredibly rough from the windy weather. The two Japanese girls behind me couldn’t quite handle the ride, and they spent the 1.5 hours taking turns running to the restroom, seasick bag in hand.

I would probably point a canon at that building too

I was pleasantly surprised with what I found in Macau. Floating into the port, one can’t help but notice the gargantuan Las Vegas style hotels and attractions that line the Cotai Strip. MGM Grand, Wynn, The Venetian - they’re all there, along with some local casino establishments. I took a cab into the center of town and the ruins of Sao Paolo. I climbed to the top of the fortress, snapped pictures of the old facade, all that remains of St. Paul’s church. Later, I wandered down the cobblestone pedestrian only streets that weave their way through the old Portuguese colonial buildings. Macau isn’t as refined as Hong Kong, but I found it’s rough-edged character enchanting.

Ruins of Sao Paolo

After making a couple laps around the old city, I started hunting for a good Portuguese or Macanese restaurant for dinner. I ended up at a small restaurant tucked in an alleyway near the cathedral where I enjoyed some Pasteis de Bacalhao (Fried Salt Cod Cakes) and Arroz de Marisco (seafood rice). The food was outstanding and served in massive quantities. I felt bad leaving behind so much of the giant pot filled with deliciously creamy rice loaded with prawns, squid, octopus, clams, mussels, and fish. Properly satiated from dinner, I walked back to the ferry terminal and was back in Hong Kong by 1AM.

They really are everywhere

Hong Kong was my last stop in Asia, and I was on my way back to the states, but my journey wasn’t over yet. I spent a few short hours sleeping in San Francisco before an early flight back out of the US to Vancouver. I spent a great weekend with my good friend Jon wandering around Vancouver, eating good food, and having some good laughs.

Somali Driver's Ed

I haven't even left Charlotte yet, but things are already off to quite a start. I finished packing around 2PM, and my cab came to pick me up at 3PM. The driver seemed innocent enough when we set off, but it turns out he may have been a little too innocent.

The ride to the airport took twice as long as it should have, and I was having considerable difficulty determining which route he was trying to take to get there. He passed my usual route down West Blvd and headed down Tryon instead. I thought he was going to take I-277 to Wilkinson Blvd, but he passed that as well. Turned out he just wanted to drive around uptown looking for a sign for the airport - I opted to give him directions instead. Even with my directions, however, the language barrier cost us a few extra miles due to missed turns. While I was trying to direct him, he opted to make a few phone calls instead, chatting away in Somali. I figured the language was either Amharic or Somali, so I took a guess based on facial features and asked if he was from Somalia. He became very excited and started to share his life story.

Amidst the explanations of how he left Somalia because of all the unrest, moved to Saudi Arabia for 5 months, spent 3 months trying to get into a university in Italy and then finally fulfilled his dream of moving to America, he also added that he has only been driving for 2 months. "You've only been a taxi driver for 2 months?" I asked.

"No, got my driver's license 2 months ago, been driving taxi for one week. Soon I will learn my way to the airport with help from people like you."

We were pulling onto the entrance road to the airport as he was wrapping up that last sentence. That's when he tried to merge directly into an oncoming red toyota. There was some swerving, honking and a quiet "sorry," but we survived without impact.

The airport was packed, and traffic was at a stand-still, but I opted to get out and walk to the Lufthansa counter rather than sit in the taxi any longer and risk death so early in my trip. Once inside, the staff at Lufthansa took care of me as usual, and I made it through security quickly, despite the long line. I'll be boarding my flight to Munich in the next 20 minutes, and I'm looking forward to a long pleasant flight and a day of relaxation in Munich before things really get started.