andave's place

We went up to my parents hometown of Zahle day before yesterday and spent the night there in a hotel that's nearly a hundred years old.

Driving up there, we stopped at the town of Baalbeck, but I'm not going to blog about that until I can post some pictures. Roman ruins, absolutely breathtaking!

Anyways, my dad has been waiting for a long time to go back to Zahle; the overnight was the highlight of the trip for him. It was a really nice break from all the hectic-ness of life in the capital.

Many Lebanese have a summer house in Zahle to escape from the humidity of summer by the sea. Zahle weather is such a change -- it's still warm during the day but instead of being humid it's dry, and nothing short of gorgeous in the evenings.

So my family and I, my uncle and aunt, and my cousin and aunt drove up, and only my family and I stayed. After they left we walked to the Wadi, a street filled with little touristy shops and restaurants. My parents were like two giddy teenagers all over again, laughing and showing us where they had lived and played all those years ago. From the street we saw my mom's grandfather's house, abandoned and desolate now but definitely with an imposing presence. An old man with a shop recognized my mother by name after more than twenty years -- Lebanese people are very close. More on that later.

In the Wadi we had ice cream at a little shop cut into rock! This place is some eighty years old. A note: if you're ever in Lebanon be sure to stop and have some ice cream! It is much better than American ice cream and has many more flavors besides the regular - Lemon, mango, tiramisu, cinnamon, cherry, cream w/pistachio, strawberry, lime, chocolate, vanilla, apricot and many many more.

The next day for brunch we had Zahle falafel, which we enjoyed tremendously. If any of you Americans have had falafel, let me tell you that American falafel is NOTHING like true Lebanese falafel. That was a sandwich and a half. But anyways, we decided to eat our falafel in a picturesque little public garden. No sooner had we sat down than an ageless old man walked up to us and wordlessly handed us girls a rose, fresh snipped from a bush. My Mom thanked him and congratulated him on his talented care of the plants.
He responded by saying that he was glad we enjoyed it and sort of “blessed” me and Bulletproof, saying that he hoped God would keep the children safe (children and women are held in really high esteem in Lebanon). He then proceeded to tell us the story of how he got his five children…all at once.

It seems that his wife was unable to bear children for thirty years. Since he loved his wife so much, he took her to many doctors everywhere, even in France, but they were unable to do anything. Finally somebody told him to take her and go pray to Mar-Elias, a Lebanese Catholic saint. So they went to the church and slept on the floor overnight. That night the man dreamt he and his wife were being bathed in rivers of blood and smoke. Through the blood and smoke he saw two birds, one blue and one white, descend onto the woman.
Time passed, and the woman’s stomach grew huge. The man didn’t think much of it, but when he was told again to go to Mar-Elias he complied. While they were there she went into labor and gave birth to five kids. The man was so happy he prayed to Mar-Elias and told him that he would sacrifice five cows to him. Said cows were mysteriously donated by a Muslim.
However, five children are no small drain on one’s resources, so the man and his wife had to scrimp and save to feed them. Finally one day the wife said, “I haven’t been to see my parents in a long time. When are you going to send me?”
He said “How long do you want to go?”
I forget her answer, some two weeks or so. But when she didn’t come back he got worried, so he went up to where she was supposed to be staying, with his parents in their two bedroom dirt house.
But where his parents house was, there was a big five bedroom house with glass windows and aluminum instead.
He didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t his house!! So he went back and forth before finally going in.
His wife was there. “Where have you been?” she said. “I’ve been expecting you. This house is yours. All those months we were scrimping and saving, I put aside to do this for you, to fix up your parents house for you.”
He went out and bought ten pounds of meat, some bread and vegetables, and invited the neighbors.
Dear old man, I really liked him .

After the storytelling, we hiked up and down Zahle, which is very hilly. We visited my parents high school, and my parents saw some people they knew!! Those people were practically jumping up and down with excitement. The new principal invited us into his office for coffee (which, by the way, is a staple in Lebanon. You visit someone, somewhere and they serve you Turkish coffee) and talked with my parents. After that we visited an old couple who is somehow related to my dad, I think. They were exactly like the stories my mom has told me about Lebanese and their hospitality; they haven't seen my parents in twenty years yet still served us coffee and jellied eggplants and pumpkin. The man is some seventy years old but is still sprightly despite being very forgetful--he asked my dad some five times where he works, would he smoke, is he married, who's he married to, does he have any children...all and more asked some five or six times, despite my mom, Bullet and I being right there next to him. He even thought I was my dad's wife once. But it was ok. He was so sweet and kind.

Afterwards my dad showed us the tennis court he used to go to, even when Zahle was being shelled in the early eighties. He even showed us where he wrote his name with chalk onto the old iron gate, three times. I can still see similarities between his writing then and his writing now.

After that we went one last time to the Wadi for more ice cream, although we were still rather full from the kak b'haleeb (milk bread?) we had just bought from a shop famous for them. In Lebanon they have two types of cones: regular and the other shaped like a pocket. We had our ice cream in the pocket shaped cones.
On our way out we stopped at a street vendor to buy a type of sweet that's sort of like nut taffy, sticky and chewy and chock-full of nuts. My mom asked the vendor if Abou Tony was still there.
That vendor was Abou Tony's son. My Mom couldn't believe it! From grandfather to father and now, to son. Yow.

More to come, soon

Cheers to you all!