Feast of St. John

I'm still enjoying a relaxing week in Roumieh with very little activity, and I have embraced it knowing that my friend Patrick is arriving on Friday night, so we'll have lots of touring to do together. Yesterday, I did make it down to Beirut for coffee with a classmate from the LFB program at IMD in Switzerland, which was great. We got caught up a little bit, discussed business and family, enjoyed some refreshing drinks and agreed to meet up again before I leave Lebanon.

Today is the feast of St. John the Baptist (Mar Youhanna), and he happens to be one of the patron saints of Roumieh, so every year they have a big mass down at the old Mar Youhanna church down the mountain. I went down with some of the cousins to celebrate the mass, and it was a beautiful way to spend the evening. People native to Roumieh from near and far came for the mass, and the choir had practiced for weeks for the occasion. Nassif and his fiancee were the star performers, and their voices were exquisite. Hearing the old style music, while the sun was setting in the distance and the priest honored St. John, was wonderful.

Following mass, everyone gathered to enjoy freshly baked cakes, sweets and manoushe. After a while, Mounira and I decided to walk back up to her place, which was a more intense hike than I had anticipated, but I suppose I had to make some sort of pilgrimage in reverence to St. John. Of course, half of the village stopped their cars on the way up to offer us a ride, but I, perhaps stupidly, insisted on walking. By the time we made it to Mounira's, I stopped for a glass of water and then continued home because I was in dire need of an ice cold shower. Only moments away from heat stroke, I was home, cooling off and preparing for an early night.

Relaxing in the Village

After a month of traveling, it's nice to just sit back and relax for a bit. I keep saying that I'm going to go somewhere, but I haven't left Roumieh since I got here on Friday. It's just too easy to sit outside in the mountain breeze, sip some Turkish coffee and enjoy the simple things in life. Besides, time with family is never dull.

One of the funniest things I think I have ever heard was said over coffee yesterday afternoon. The usual conversational twists and turns that start with domestic Lebanese politics, then lead to the Palestinians and eventually Israel and the West, ended up with a mention of the holocaust. Someone said, "Hitler not only wanted to kill the Jews; he also didn't like Gypsies, Muslims and short people."

"Yes, akeed, during the war, we were very afraid of Hitler in Roumieh because we have too many short people."

You never know what you're going to hear next in this place.

Natasa, Borut and Grega all were hoping to come to Lebanon while I am here, but for various reasons, none of them could make it. Another friend, Patrick, decided to come next weekend though, so I get to do some touring afterall. With that guarantee of being forced out of the village coming up, for now, I'm going to take advantage of some quality relaxation.

It's good to be home again... at least one of them. It's a beautiful summer in Lebanon.

Under the watchful eye of Ataturk, it is forbidden to access facebook from the Istanbul airport. I am on my way to Beirut! Ya habibitna Beirut, shoo sayer bi dinii...

The Turkish Bunny Hop

A wise man once said, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." I certainly bit into one big surprise chocolate tonight. It started innocently enough with me inquiring about the possibility of seeing a Dervish ceremony this evening. Lily at the hotel said it would be no problem at all, and she proceeded to organize everything for me. Around 5PM, I received a phone call from her, "I have arranged for you to go to a very nice place for the Dervish ceremony, and they have folk dancing, live music and a belly dancer as well. Dinner is included and your driver will pick you up at 8:15."

I immediately had my doubts about this all-inclusive package, and I also was frighteningly aware that I would be alone within reach of a belly dancer. What was done was done, though, and I decided to bite the bullet and see what would happen.

Arriving at the restaurant, a traditional Turkish drummer started playing a beat and marched me into the dining room, where I had a table for 25, set for one. They had my Mezze waiting for me at the end of the table closest to the stage. "Gangsta's Paradise" was playing over the stereo system, but oddly enough, it was being played with Turkish folk instruments. When Brittney Spears' "Toxic" came on next, I knew this was destined to be an interesting evening.

The other groups had been seated, and it was time for the Dervishes to come out. The band, including a great vocalist, did an excellent job of playing the moving religious music while the Dervishes spun themselves into a trance with their white robes floating gracefully at their sides. With one hand reaching towards God and the other drawing energy from the earth, the Dervishes put on a good show, but it was obvious that these guys weren't the real thing, and my troublesome sense of humor made me want to break out in song, "Oh Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel..." All kidding aside though, the Dervish ceremony was very calming and almost magical, and I would love to see the real thing some day.

A few folk dances and one hip rocking belly dancer later, it was time for some audience participation. I managed to remain seated using my photographer ruse as an excuse. The belly dancer embarrassed a few poor men, and then some random group dancing broke out. Soon, the Turks returned in force for another folk dance with the unavoidable display of the Turkish flag and some grunts of national pride. With that out of the way, the Turkish guys then started grabbing people from the audience and started one final display of Turkish culture, The Bunny Hop. I could barely contain myself when I realized what was happening around me, but I finally let out a chuckle when a mentally handicapped fellow in the middle of the line started grabbing the chest of the guy in front of him instead of the shoulders. Luckily, the stranger in front seemed to be aware of who was behind him and shrugged it off.

I had officially seen all I could handle, so I packed up my camera and made my way out the door. My driver seemed more than happy to be leaving a little earlier than expected.

Tea - a rather pointless monologue

Let’s talk about tea for a moment. I can hear John laughing already, but I have no cans of tea for you to sniff at the moment, just a few observations about tea as a culture. I have been in many tea drinking societies around the world, a couple on this trip already, and they all do things a little differently. Possibly to improve the world’s understanding of me as a person, I think I should share some of the positives and negatives I have experienced when it comes to tea. First of all, I strongly agree with the Persian tradition (also Turkish, Kurdish, Iraqi) of serving tea in clear glasses. The beautiful amber color of properly brewed black tea should be enjoyed by the imbiber through an unadulterated glass vessel, period.

As long as we’re talking about black tea in the Middle Eastern tradition, I have to say that the Persians do it best, followed closely by the Kurdish. The refreshingly sweet addition of cardamom to the black tea is delightful, and the occasional addition of saffron in Persian tea just makes it a step more regal. Turkish tea is nice, but it dulls in comparison to its Eastern neighbors. The Turks do a fine job, however, on the apple tea that is also prevalent on the Anatolian peninsula - it’s similar to a hot apple cider though, and can hardly be classified as tea. The best thing about tea in the Middle East is its relationship to hospitality and relaxation. In the regions I have mentioned, it’s virtually impossible to live out a day without being offered or invited for tea numerous times. Sitting back and enjoying this hot golden beverage with a healthy dose of sugar just feels right in this atmosphere. Drinking tea helps lend a pace to life; it’s time to converse, time to negotiate, time to soak up the sights and sounds. It’s much easier to complete a major purchase when you and the salesperson are both sitting back with a tea in hand, as is so often the case. It puts both parties on equal footing in a relaxed situation - the exchange of money and goods becomes secondary to the sharing of tea.

Tea in the “Western” world tends to be a major disappointment. Nothing was more disappointing than ordering a tea at the Ritz-Carlton in Istanbul and being served a bitter, over-brewed white cup of brown nastiness. It took four packets of sugar just to overcome the tangy bitter flavor of scalded tea leaves. The British like to combat improperly brewed tea (ok, sometimes properly brewed too) with milk and sugar. This is the bland man’s attempt to emulate the perfectly balanced Masala Chai of their former colonies in South Asia. Masala chai is supposed to be a blend of sweet and spicy with a touch of milk or cream to help bring balance to life. It’s an incredibly pleasurable beverage, but it is very different from the Middle Eastern tea beverages and a proper role-model for British tea lovers. In America, we’ve been overwhelmed with trendy new tea shops that offer every imaginable blend and flavor under the sun. I’ve fallen in love with many of these establishments, but a tea purist would find many faults in their offerings - that’s ok, I’m a moderate tea lover at heart, so I’ll take advantage of their fruity blends and bastardized versions of tea staples from around the world.

I had in mind to continue my tea lecture with writings on my experiences in Japan and the fine green teas of Asia, but instead, I’ll end things here with the option to continue when I make it to China and might be confronted with more tea traditions or tea travesties. Time will tell.

Even God is not immune to the imposing nature of technology today. I'm having tea in Goreme and the prayer call from the mosque was briefly interrupted by a cell phone ringing over the loud speakers. Unfortunately, the conversation was not broadcasted.