$6 or $60

Excellent article by Thomas Friedman in the NYTimes today. So informative that I'll copy it for those who don't have NYTimes accounts (which are free and don't spam, btw):

Reading the papers lately, I've lost track of whether the Pentagon plans to invade Iraq from three sides or four, and whether we will be using Jordan, Kuwait or Diego Garcia as our main launching pad. But one thing I haven't seen much planning for is the impact an attack on Iraq would have on the world's oil market. Depending on how the war went, that impact could be very bad and lead to a sharp spike in oil prices, like $60-a-barrel oil. But — wait a minute — it could also be very good, and lead to $6-a-barrel oil that would weaken OPEC and, maybe, also weaken the Arab autocrats who depend on high oil prices to finance their illegitimate regimes and buy off opponents.

Raising this oil question is not an argument against taking down Saddam Hussein. He's a bad man, building dangerous weapons, who has raped the future of two generations of Iraqis. The whole region would be improved by his ouster. It is an argument, though, for thinking through all the dimensions of any attack on Iraq. We're not talking about a war in Tora Bora here. We're talking about a war in the world's main gas station.

"A proposed attack on Iraq is an extraordinarily high-risk economic adventure that could either destabilize the governments of one or more oil exporting countries by creating a prolonged period of low prices, or, if things went wrong, lead to a prolonged disruption of world oil supplies, which could be even more devastating," says Philip K. Verleger Jr., an oil expert and fellow of the Council on Foreign Relations.

Let's start with the $60-a-barrel scenario. (The price today is in the mid-$20's.) While the Pentagon keeps leaking its war plans, no one ever writes about what Saddam's war plans might be. What if Saddam responds by firing Scuds with chemical or biological warheads at Saudi Arabian and Kuwaiti oilfields? The world market could lose not only Iraq's two million barrels a day, but millions more. And what if the war drags on and we have as much trouble finding Saddam as we've had finding Osama?

Don't kid yourself: If prices skyrocket because of a war in the Persian Gulf, Venezuela, Iran, Nigeria and others will cut back their output and keep prices high to milk the moment for all it's worth.

The scenario that could produce $6-a-barrel oil goes like this: Iraq under Saddam has been pumping up to two million barrels of oil a day, under the U.N. oil-for-food program. Let's say a U.S. invasion works and in short order Saddam is ousted and replaced by an Iraqi Thomas Jefferson, or just a "nice" general ready to abandon Iraq's nuclear weapons program and rejoin the family of nations.

That would mean Iraq would be able to modernize all its oilfields, attract foreign investment and in short order ramp up its oil production to its long-sought capacity of five million barrels a day. That is at least three million barrels of oil a day more on the world market, and Iraq, which will be desperate for cash to rebuild, is not likely to restrain itself. (Now you understand why Saudi Arabia, Iran and Kuwait all have an economic interest in Saddam's staying in power and Iraq's remaining a pariah state, so it can't produce more oil.)

In addition, notes Mr. Verleger, if we invade Iraq in the late winter or spring, when world oil demand normally declines, OPEC countries will have to slash their own production even more to accommodate Iraq. This would be coming at a time when non-OPEC countries (Russia, Mexico, Norway, Oman and Angola) have been steadily boosting their output and will continue doing so. Most OPEC countries, however, can't cut back any more to make room for them. Venezuela is broke. Iran, Nigeria and Saudi Arabia need cash to deal with all their debts, their masses of unemployed and new infrastructure demands. (Watch Saudi Arabia. King Fahd is now gravely ill in a hospital in Switzerland, and the struggle to succeed him is in full swing.)

Bottom line: A quick victory that brings Iraq fully back into the oil market could lead to a sharp fall in oil incomes throughout OPEC that could seriously weaken the oil cartel and rob its many autocratic regimes of the income they need to maintain their closed political systems. In fact, give me sustained $10-a-barrel oil and I'll give you revolutions from Iran to Saudi Arabia, and throw in Venezuela.

If that scenario prevails, you could look at an invasion of Iraq as a possible two-for-one sale: destroy Saddam and destabilize OPEC at the same time. Buy one, get one free. But you better prepare for the consequences of both.

Kudos to Colin

The U.S. Secretary of State makes me proud once again...

America's statesman stirred up the nationalist government in India by "referr[ing] to Kashmir as being on the “international agenda;” press[ing] US demand for observation of the assembly elections in Jammu and Kashmir by international monitors and call[ing] for release of separatist Kashmiri leaders." It's not a big deal, but Powell has the respect internationally to pursue the U.S. agenda abroad without coming across as an "ugly American". I've seen few politicians able to do that in the relatively short time I've been watching politics, and Powell definitely has my respect.

His other big thing, politically, was meeting with North Korean Foreign Minister Paek Nam Sun in Brunei today. It was short and low-key, characteristic of this administration's approach (Clinton, by contrast, tended to push for more, sometimes yielding better results, sometimes causing resentment). Achieving a peace between North Korea and the South Korea - Japan - USA axis would go a long way to ensuring stability in the region, with unification a more distant - and less stable goal.

Speaking of Koreans, two were sent out of the U.S. last night in exchange for Cliff Floyd. Les Expos, who continue to function as a Sox farm team, have fallen out of contention, and Floyd's reasonable $6.5 million is too much for a team with no televising of their games and almost as few fans in attendance. I'm really sketched out by the deal; unless the Sox can get Floyd longer-term than 3 months I don't think it's worth it to give up Seung Song, the Sox prime prospect, even if he's having a poor year, in addition to Sunny Kim and a Korean - 'scuse me, player - to be named later.

Sympathies

With the families of eight Beirutis who were gunned down by a coworker at an office in the UNESCO neighborhood, two miles south of here.

The good news is that those eight families will not likely be joined by others in retaliation; it seems to have been an "American-style" outburst as opposed to political or sectarian violence. It does, however, underscore the danger - political and otherwise - that the rampant poverty and high prices here pose to long-term peace. From the little I know, it seems that Lebanon went through a 15-year civil war without resolving a thing: the society is still divided by sect, the government has the same outdated consociation, there is still a wide and growing gap between rich and poor, and there is still instability along the Israeli border. The only real difference now the collective exhaustion from years of war and the Syrian occupation. Not gre

Instant Replay's sympathies are also with Hebrew University, where seven students were killed and eighty-five wounded in a Hamas suicide bombing. I spent many an hour on Hebrew U's computers for free when I lived in that neighborhood in 1999, and it edges AUB as the most beautiful campus that I've ever seen. Allah yarhumuhum.

I Hate Blogger

Or maybe it's the AUB servers. But someone is going out of their way to make my blogging life miserable. I wrote Beirut Report XI yesterday, and (as often happens), they wouldn't post it. So I emailed it to myself. But now that email is AWOL... apparently it was never sent. And it was a big piece, too, all about last weekend's adventures - I can't spend my whole life writing and rewriting stuff, and right now all the computers in the Library (which are user-carnivorous) are all down for some reason so I can't look for it there or anything...grrrr.

That Takes Balls!

Lance Armstrong underlined his name on the list of greatest cyclists of all time... my testorone-pumpin' hero became just the fifth cyclist ever to win four times. It's great to see a ballsy gentleman like him win, especially when you're beating the French on their home court, time and time again. Who's ya Daddy?!?!

Relationships

Originally written last Thursday. A number of people have asked me questions about my relationship with Dalia, most detailedly my good friend Zach. I decided to take the opportunity to answer his (solicited) questions and advice with a (very) long piece on my "policy" of relationships, which, mind you, is still in its formative stages. In no way do I take Zach's questions hostily - they were solicited, and it just gives me the chance to write a piece I've been wanting to write for 9 months or something.

For the record, Zach's questions:

1 - Have you read Josh Harris' books?
2 - Where does flirting stop?
3 - Is purity possible in this relationship?
4 - Is this relationship helping you spiritually?
5 - Is she aware that you're leaving?
6 - Are pastors and parents involved?
...and advice:
- Cut it off if she's not a potential spouse.
- Look out for lust.

My Answers:
1 - Yes, both of them. I agree with both on most points, and I found "Boy Meets Girl" an extremely helpful book. Up till now I've been single and I'm still a proponent of singleness.
2 - To me, flirting stops where the relationship begins. To answer the spirit of the question, our relationship is not "playful" or "giggly".
3 - I believe that purity is quite possible, especially in this cultural context. For purity of thought, I'm more on guard in the relationship than usual.
4 - I wouldn't say that the relationship is being a detriment or help to my spiritual development. However, I do believe that it's doing a lot for me as a person, and that these are valuable experiences.
5 - Yes, of course she's aware that I'm leaving!
6 - My parents are out of touch in Europe, and I certainly wouldn't consider this serious enough to involve a pastor 5,000 miles away.

*****
My Principles.
To go into generalities, these are the three biggest principles that I could think of that are guiding me in this and future relationships:

1 - Permission and Accountability. "He who seperates himself seeks his own desire, he acts against all wise counsel" - Solomon. By keeping everything I do accountable to her, to others, and to God I can keep myself from acting foolishly, and with God's help live with no regrets.

2 - Profitability. "All things are permissable to me, but not all things are profitable" - Paul. I will not enter a relationship that I do not believe both she and I will profit from in the present and, more importantly, the long run.

3 - "DTR". The relationship must be defined and kept to the agreed level. My relationship with Dalia is a "get to know you", not a "should we marry?"

*****
My Reasoning.

I met Dalia at my cousins', and by the second time we'd met we were both attracted to each other, but had talked little. I spent a week mulling over the question, felt at peace with God about asking her out, and checked with my cousin to make sure it was culturally appropriate.

The reasons I asked her out are diverse. First of all, I was attracted to her, and wanted to get to know her better. However, in a group context where most everything is in local Arabic, I can only follow ~20%, so getting to know her without speaking one-on-one was pretty much impossible over 6 weekends. In the same situation in the U.S., I would have followed my normal course: make friends with her. I make a point at home to get to know girls, and generally I can do that pretty easily, without flirting, and in much the same way I'd befriend a guy. Here, because of our remoteness, and a culture in which guys and girls rarely befriend each other outside of "romantic" relationships, it was either (a) ask her out or (b) not get to know her.

A second reason I asked her out was to clarify the relationship. I talked with her quite a bit on the day I asked her out before popping the question, and our friends (I later learned) "knew" we were going out before we knew it! I prefer having a low-key, public dating relationship to having to deal with rumors in a community where gossip travels at the speed of sound. I felt that if I didn't ask her out, it would still be obvious to at least one person in the group that we liked each other, and it was best to put my emotional cards on the table.

A major personal reason that I even considered a relationship - something I wouldn't have done a year and a half ago - was because of my own experiences in the last year. I went on one date with a girl last summer (she had an extra ticket to a Sox game - I'll go see the Sox with Ariel Sharon if he has a ticket for me!), and my own reactions and actions scared me a bit (we didn't even get to the point of holding hands, but it was way too flirty and touchy nonetheless). I was very glad that I went, because I feel I've been a lot wiser to my own weaknesses since. I had a few other, non-romantic, experiences with girls in the year since then, and in all of them I noticed that there's a whole different set of actions and emotions that I'm unfamiliar with. You and I may differ on this point, but I believe that it is wise to get to know - and to take control of - my own emotional structure. More on this in the next section.

The main reason that I went ahead with asking her out was that the relationship is safe and manageable. It's safe physically - in the mountains, especially for a priest's daughter, physical purity is absolutely expected. PDA's aren't kosher, and most of the time that we're together we're with cousins et al. The times we've had alone have been outside her house with her parents at home and in the busy town square. It's much safer than a similar relationship in the U.S. It's also safe emotionally. Because we're entering this relationship with the expectation of amicably parting on August 18 neither of us is building up high hopes or investing emotionally in the other. I'm also committed to preventing emotional escalation - I won't go to her with my problems, and I'll encourage her not to come to me with hers if they come up. Not that I don't care or don't want to help, but I don't want dependancy developing at all. The distance between us also makes it safer emotionally - we're not going to see a lot of each other real fast. Lastly, it's safe timewise and friendwise. At home, I'd shy away from most potential relationships for fear of straining a friendship and because any relationship there is open-ended. Here, while I cherish the thought of seeing her again, and I'll almost definitely make it back here sometime in the next few years, our friendship is pretty much confined to letters post-8/18.

Ultimately, I felt that I could go ahead with this as long as I obeyed the Biblical precept to treat every young woman as a sister. No, I wouldn't date my sister, but I do enjoy talking to her and hanging out with her. By announcing my intention to develop a relationship with Dalia, I can be an affectionate friend without starting rumors or sending her mixed messages.

*****
My Policy

In case this isn't long enough, I'd like to generalize on the principles above and finally form a clear policy, since I've been needing one.

Again the guiding principles:
1 - Accountability.
2 - Profitability.
3 - DTR.

And a more detailed (but probably incomplete) list of applications:
1 - Singleness is my default. I will not go out, date, or court for its own sake. I wholeheartedly agree with Harris' exhortation to making ones' single years count.
2 - I will not let physical relationships develop at the same rate or to the same level as fraternal or emotional relationships. Along with the DTR comes a definition of what's OK and what's not OK physically. More importantly, this isn't like a wrestling league where certain "holds" are barred; it's about self-control and avoiding physical contact for its own sake.
3 - Stay emotionally grounded as best I can. I'll allow myself to fly high when I'm browsing engagement rings years from now; no girl is worth losing your head for if she's not worth losing your singleness for.
4 - Ration time. In my experience, the biggest factor in the strength of my emotions is amount of time spent together. The strongest crushes I've ever had have been on missions trips and the like, where I see the girl every day for hours, albeit in a group. With Dalia it's easy to ration time; at home it'll be a much more conscious decision.
5 - Avoid exclusivity. There's nothing more obnoxious than a couple who starts dating and immediately owns each other. I will do my best to remain better friends with my "brothers" and family than I am with this girl. If you're not ready to join your lives, don't join your lives.
6 - (I know you're all saying, "Does this guy do anything that's not a numerical list?" It's easier to read this way, trust me).
7 - Christians only. I'm not going to date someone who doesn't share my worldview or my understanding of the important things in life. No offense to non-Christian readers, but that's a label I and those like me apply to ourselves, and I'm sure you wouldn't date someone who's fundamental view of life differed sharply from your own whether you put a label on yourself or not. Also, legitimate options only - the goal of dating is to find a spouse, though I don't agree with Harris that every relationship has to lead up to a specific decision on that matter with that girl.
8 - Avoid the "appearance of evil". This is somewhere in scripture, but I learned it from my Mom. She can be a bit fanatical about it at times, but there's no reason to throw the baby out with the bath water. Basically, if you don't give people anything to talk about, you won't get blamed for things you didn't do. Americans tend to dislike this notion - we're a "guilt culture" as opposed to a "shame culture" (which the Middle East is), and we strongly believe that we shouldn't be punished for anything we didn't do. While I believe that, living here helps me understand the shame culture - if people think you did something, you'll suffer for it, so make sure they don't have any reason to be suspicious (the dark side of that is "Do bad stuff and make sure nobody finds out", but I'm not all about that).

And now for apologetics. I promise I won't numeral this section. Note that this is primarily written to explain why I'm dating as opposed to not; if you had heard me talking with my friends at an excellent restaurant last night, explaining why I haven't dated until now, and explaining my (in their words) "very conservative" approach to relationships you would have found that I agree with almost everything Harris writes and Zach recommends.

There are two big reasons that after reading Harris' books I decided to take exception. Both of these arguments have been made by more experienced and intelligent minds than my own, so please bear with my flattery-by-imitation.

First of all, in my experience and in that of my friends who date (the majority), dating teaches one a lot. In particular, it teaches one a lot about oneself. A former youth pastor of mine answered my then-challenge to the idea of dating by saying that you find out a lot about what different girls are like when you really get to know them, and you find out what different girls bring out in you. To me the latter is more important - I'm hopelessly behind if my goal is to know-by-dating as many girls as I can. Besides, I feel that I've gotten to know many girls very well as a single. However, I've had glimpses of very different sides of myself from what I'm used to, and I would rather know and tame them than enter a serious courtship relationship without knowing at least how I'm going to act. Again, this doesn't mean I have to date everyone in the world, or that I'm dating for the sake of dating. It means that dating has benefits (yes, I get the double-entendre, haha) and can be a profitable course to take.

One could say that you have a relationship with everyone you know. Moving that relationship to "dating" or "going out" or "friends plus" or whatever you want to tag it is, in my longwinded opinion, a better way to go about developing a relationship where mutual affectionate emotions are present than staying friends without defined parameters. Now, that doesn't mean start dating every time you and her like each other. That means that if you both like each other AND see the friendship/relationship as one that you would like to develop, than it's better to clearly define that - however you both decide to - than to act as if nothing's going on underneath.

That's not to say that sometimes you don't have to swallow emotions - there are more reasons floating around out there not to date than there are to date. I expect to be single in the foreseeable future in the U.S., but if the factors line up to make dating a permissable and profitable course, I'll prayerfully consider it. But there will definitely be times I'll have to swallow my emotions. I've honed that skill so much over the years, I'd hate to see it go to waste...

One of the arguments that I've both heard and used against dating is that, especially for teenagers, dating tends to be emotionally destabilizing and results in a lot of pain. However, looking back over my teenagehood (I'm 3 months from 20!) I have to say that I was pretty emotionally affected by girls I never asked out, and while I wouldn't recommend dating to anyone under 17, I don't think that argument holds as much validity as I once did. Two things that will definitely hurt you emotionally are dating addictions (I know a LOT of people who are co-dependent on dating) and haphazard, American style dating. But my guess and my very, very limited experience is that you're gonna have an emotional roller coaster anyway, and dating isn't going to have as radical an effect on you as it seems like - you'd be agonizing about her even if you didn't ask her out.

In Harris' second book (which I strongly recommend), "Boy Meets Girl", he makes some good arguments that what's been called "courtship" is the way to go. Not that the name is important, but he lays down a lot of excellent principles, and by use of many (often hilarious) stories demonstrates the attitude which ideally goes along with this form of mate-seeking. In the second half of the book, which is even better, he discusses the development of courtship relationships as they move towards the question of engagement (which is the undisputed end of a courtship relationship; either you get engaged, or you decide against it and the relationship ends cordially).

That's the ideal. And it's a nice ideal. And it's an ideal I'll strive to reach when I'm ready to start a relationship with the goal of finding out if a girl is the One for me. However (you knew this was coming), I definitely buy in to the criticisms of courtship leveled by...um...critics. Last fall my Mom was reading some articles by a group that rejects both courtship AND dating, and goes straight to engagement. I reject them because I don't think that's culturally appropriate where I live; it works in some places, and I would be open to it if I took permanent residence in Syria or something. However, in Boston following that path would effectively limit your marital options to 7 girls, 9 if you include non-English-speakers. Nonetheless, the argument they make against courtship is an effective and (a bit surprisingly) sensible one.

The argument is that courtship essentially puts a couple in a situation where they are very seriously thinking about marriage, long before the question comes up. Harris discourages too much of this, but considering it's the point of the relationship, I think it's unavoidable. So what often happens is that a couple ends up devastated when their courtship doesn't work out. The parents had agreed to let them marry (otherwise they wouldn't have allowed the courtship), and they had really set their hopes on one another. And then it didn't work out. To me, that violates the "stay emotionally grounded" thing. You're asking, "Well, how is dating before you court going to help? Isn't that like pre-drinking before you go to a club?" Well, maybe it is, and I'm totally wrong here. However, I obviously think that I am right, and I've come to these conclusions after a long period of thought, and after being single all my life and enjoying it. My answer to the pre-drinking question would be that I think dating can help me avoid painful breakups by (a) not setting my hopes on a "system" that is supposed to take in a bunch of inputs and spit out a marriage (that's not how it's intended, but I think it ends up at that a lot of times), and (b) getting to know her in romantic circumstances before we turn the heat on the relationship. If we've dated for 3 months after knowing each other for 3 years, we're less likely to find out that while we were great friends we're terrible lovers. A relationship with the stated goal of getting to know someone can weed out the worst ones, and can prepare us mentally and emotionally for courtship relationships with each other or with someone else.

Am I making any sense?

Well, I've spent close to three hours writing this, and I'm as glad that it's over as I am that I did it! I hope it makes as much sense in 0's and 1's as it does in my head, and I hope you don't mind my taking exception to some of your opinions. I think that we agree on the main points, however, and there's no reason you can't continue to act as an accountability partner and sounding board despite our difference of opinion. No, I'm not going to marry Dalia, as lucky as the man is who does. However, I believe we can leave both of us better off after the relationship, and to me that's the bottom line.

Beirut Report X

Living in Penrose Dorm here, I'm all of 30 paces from the "'Hardee's' Gate". Outside that gate, stretched for a half mile along one side of Bliss Street, there are literally dozens of places to eat. I polled a bunch of people from my group and AUB in general as to what the best (define that as you will) AUB area eating is. Combining the poll results with my own tastes, I give you ..... the TOP FIVE!

# 5 -- Chicken Corner. This place is to chicken what Forrest Gump's friend was to shrimp - they really have quality meats, as well as the necessities: large sandwiches and low prices. One of my faves, but being a block off Bliss handicaps them severely.

# 4 -- Al-Kahua. "The Cafe" is the closest good sit-down eating, but their captive audience and short list of entrees means that attendance from Arabic program students has tailed off sharply. Still, they've got the best milieu on Bliss St and Little Daoud can sing a mean karaoke on Thursday night.

# 3 -- Bliss House. I've only eaten there once, but with its location near the Main Gate, its reputation for cleanliness, and its big fries servings, Bliss House really is the most popular, if not the best, dining on Bliss.

# 2 -- Flying Pizza. The area's best-kept secret, this place would be packed if more people knew about it, or if their prices were a tad lower. It has a quiet, pleasant environment, and serves up good pizza and excellent burgers. Mystique is added by the fact that they bring your food from somewhere down the street (apparently their kitchen is actually two doors down), and the full wet bar gives the place a mature attitude.

#1 -- Le Sage. If WBZ 1030 is news "Every Day", Le Sage is food every day! I rarely miss a day at this extremely convenient streetside joint. Sages are good-sized fried wraps, with everything from the Lebanese staple Man'oush Zatyr (thyme) to Salami & White Cheese (the Official Food of the Low Intermediate Class) to Chocolate & Banana.

Honorable Mention:
Smugglers' Inn -- No food is served here, but this pub is definitely the only place around here that I'd go to have a beer and exchange quiet conversation. It's snug environment and good prices used to bring in the crowds, but apparently it's a bit out of style right now.
Taj Malouk -- "The Kings' Crown" has reportedly the best Syrian ice cream on Bliss Street. That's saying something, since all the fast food joints turn into ice cream stands as crowds of families as well as students invade Bliss Street after sunset. Taj also has the best Arabic sweets and the best service - as well as a reputation for giving pretty blondes free sweets (actually, if you're cute you can get free stuff all over the place here, especially if you go in with no guys).

OK, it's off to colloquial class now.

The Quickie Version

If your noodle got fried trying to decipher that family tree, here's my own direct ancestry:
Salim Furth
Elizabeth Ray
Ralph Ray
Yousef Kfouri
Ayoub Kfouri+Mariam Sawaya
Mikhail Kfouri / Nassib Sawaya
Najim Kfouri
Boulos Kfouri

By my calculations, Boulos was born in about 1790. I don't know most of the women involved here, but I assume that for every great-grandfather there is an equal and opposite great-grandmother, even if nobody remembers her name.

Beirut Report IX

Today I went to dinner for the second night in a row to “Flying Pizza” with Larry and Charlie Brown. On the way there we were remarking on some of the idiosyncrasies of this little land. One of us, I forget whom, said, “Lebanon is just a big family reunion.”

Really, that’s not far from the truth, at least in my experience. As far as I can ascertain, I’m related to pretty much every Christian Lebanese I’ve met so far, or quite nearly. The joke du jour a week ago was that I decided to ask Dalia out because she was the only person here who wasn’t my cousin!

In the interests of history, my American family and preservation of the prodigious knowledge of Tante Hassibi, the family’s dowager aunt nicknamed “La General”, I undertook to create as comprehensive a family tree as I could. The branches that are still question marks are now only those who are 4th cousins or further from me, or are from the American branch of the family, which neither I nor they know well – including two of my young first cousins whose names I can’t remember! I also don’t know most of the orders of birth, so the lists of siblings are often in random order. The names in boldface are people I've met on this trip.

Without further ado… In about 1790, a couple of the family Kfouri living in the Ottoman Empire, in the state of Beirut, in the region of Al-Metn, on the ridge housing Bekfaya, D’hour, Khenshara and countless other villages, brought a son into the world and named him Boulos. Boulos begat Najem, Najem begat Mikhail, and Mikhail begat Ayoub and Suleiman, in the late 1800’s.

Ayoub Kfouri married Mariam, daughter of Nassib Sawaya, and sister of Khaytoum, among others. Ayoub and Mariam had six children; Sofia, Ayoub, Boulos, Salimeh, Tufay’, and Zarifeh. They raised their family in a picturesque valley 3000 feet above sea level between Jouar and Khenshara, just up the hill from where the road turns as you pass the town line into Khenshara, but before you cross the brook.

Famine hit Mount Lebanon during the First World War, and many Lebanese emigrated. Among them was the young Kfouri usra (nuclear family). However, a young man in their village had other ideas: according to one account, he said he was going to go with them, and betrothed Sofia, Ayoub’s eldest. When the day of departure came he took her by the hand and said, “Unpack your bags, honey, you’re staying here with me”, or something to that effect.

In Lowell, Mass, and later Bangor, Maine, the American side of the family – now surnamed “Ray” - multiplied slowly, as Zarifeh, Tufay’ (aka “Uncle Fay”), and Salimeh bore no children. Boulos, aka “Fred”, begat Robert, Richard, and Elizabeth. Richard now has two boys about my age, and Elizabeth two boys in their mid-teens. Yousef, aka “Joseph” begat Ralph Salim, Kenneth, and Ferris. All three had families, but I only know my own branch. Ralph Salim Ray married Cyrilla Fae Boomer Marshall, who had a son John by a deceased first husband, and begat Joanne, David, Elizabeth, Kenneth, and Amy. Beth became my mother. Ayoub returned to Lebanon to live out his days, a process which he completed in the late 1940's.

Returning to Lebanon at the fin de seacle, recall that Nassib Sawaya, mother of Mariam, also had a daughter named Khaytoum, among other children. Khaytoum married a Mr. Hariq, and had Assad, Ibrahim, Hada, Zelfa, Mary, Khayata, Nazira, Najiba, Afifi, and Salimeh. Afifi married Fay Ray, and was known to my mother and grandmother as “Aunt Afifi”. I met Salimeh, the youngest, and the only one in my list still living from her generation, had a family almost as large as her parents: Najib, Eli, Linda, Angelle, Fadia, Lore, Elham, Mona, and Lodi. Fadia and Lodi’s son Walid live in Arlington and Cambridge, Mass, though I met both here. I also met Lore's daughter Halla, Elham’s daughter Jumana, and Jumana’s son Ramy (7), who is of my generation and my fourth cousin.

The man who convinced Sofia Kfouri to separate from her family and stay in Lebanon with him was Khattar Skaf. The new Skaf family grew to include Nassib, Khalil, Rashid, Hassibi, and Saidi. Sofia, the matriarch, died in 1975.

Nassib Skaf married Yvonne Sawaya, and begat Bahjat, Salah, Mounir, Rosette, Tanious, and Yvonne. He died young, in 1948.
Bahjat and Yvonne remained single.
Salah married Hind Maalouf and they are raising my third cousins Sandra (22), Nassib (20), Grace (16), and Sabine (15) in Winsor, Ontario.
Mounir married in Venezuela and begat Yvonne and Angelle. Yvonne is married and has an unborn child.
Rosette married the obnoxiously gregarious Eli Kfouri and begat Liliane, Bassel, and Ferris. Liliane and Eli Karem celebrated their first wedding anniversary last Sunday. Bassel has a son, Christopher. Ferris has two sons, Alex and Serge.

Khalil Skaf, son of Sofia and Khattar, married Renee Sawaya and begat Khattar, Soumaya, Nicolas, Adib, and Hind. He died in 1996.
Khattar married Mirna Aoun and has Khalil (13) and Kristina (10); they live in Dubai most of the year.
Soumaya married Ibrahim Sawaya and has Gaby (23), Genie (20) and Lama (16); they live in Abu Dhabi, though the older kids are at school in Lebanon now and inhabit the family house in D’hour, at 4000 feet above sea level.
Nicolas married Lodi Diab and lives in Shreen with their children Josephine (7) and Renee (5).
Adib moved to Florida where he married a Cuban-American named Maria and has a son Daniel (8). It is thanks to him that I got in touch with the rest of my family.
Hind, who really is my “aunt” here, is unmarried and lives with her mother and Como, the Sri Lankan live-in.

Rashid Skaf, son of Sofia and Khattar, had Ricardo, Bettina, Sophie, Eddy, and Mona. He died in 1986.
His family is younger, and only Bettina, who lives between France and Saudi, has children; Omar (7) and Karim (4).

Hassibi never married, and instead has replaced her mother as the leading woman of the family. She lived 16 years in Florida caring for Zarefeh before the latter’s passing in 1994, and returned to Lebanon to take charge of whatever needed taking charge. The local priest, Dalia’s father, remembered Hassibi’s presence in the church growing up: she had kept all the kids in line, made them sit up straight, and been absolutely unquestioned by the obedient parents. She is also the repository of much of what is written here, and countless volumes more.

Saidi, daughter of Sofia and Khattar Skaf, married George Majdalani, a member of a centuries-old Beirut merchant family. They have Michel, Eli, and Nadine.
Michel, now a professor at Lebanese American University, moved to America at age 17, in 1979, and moved back with the intention of staying permanently in Lebanon six months ago.
Eli married Yousra and has Ralph (3) and another child due within the month.
Nadine is single, and is known as the family’s religious nut.

Jumping back again, to my great-great-great-grandfather’s generation, recall that Mikhail Kfouri had Suleiman, as well as Ayoub and others. Suleiman Kfouri begat Ferris, Hanna, Jamileh, and Najem. Najem begat Elizabeth, while Hanna and Jamileh had no children. Ferris begat Eli, Tanious, and Yvonne. Yvonne has no children. Tanious married Muntaha and they have George, Jawal, and Gizelle. The obnoxiously gregarious Eli married his second cousin’s daughter Rosette, who appears above under the family of Nassib son of Sofia and Khattar Skaf. They still live in Khenshara, in sight of the palatial Kfouri family home and one of the area’s most beautiful churches, built by a wealthy Kfouri a century ago. Lebanon is like one big family reunion.

Confused? I certainly am! It’s better in the family tree that I’ve painstakingly put together, but it’s two sheets of paper wide, and uses every inch. In the period for which I have good data, I’ve listed 6 people in the first generation descended from my great-great-grandparents, Ayoub and Mariam. I’ve listed 11 in the second, 22 in the third (not counting Ferris and Ken’s families, which I don’t know fully), and so far 30 in my own (which is incomplete). I am the fifth eldest of my generation, and within four years of Gaby, who is its leader by age as well as character. And my apologies to Eli Kfouri and Nadine Majdalani – I’m just saying what your families say, though in Eli’s case he proved his obnoxious gregarity to me himself. However, I am indebted to him for the knowledge of his part of the family tree and the names of my oldest known ancestors, Najim Kfouri and his father – my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather – Boulos.

Beirut Report VIII

Originally written Monday, 7-22-02

First of all, my apologies for not writing in so long. Actually, I wrote a big entry on Thursday which the computer promptly teamed up with Blogger to destroy before I could post it. So really it's been a week, which shouldn't be the norm.

I spent the weekend at my family's up in the mountains. It was a good, relaxing time, as always, but I was definitely ready to come back by the time I did last night. This weekend was a day and a half longer than normal because I had no Saturday trip with the program here; it was our week off. Instead of going into the details of how much shish kebab I ate, I'll treat you all to a story I've heard twice from my neighbor here. Actually, you all are going to get the "airplane" version, since this blog is profanity-free. Generally, Charlie Brown (I kid thee not; his parents thought it was "cute") is also profanity-free, but his weekend was not quite as relaxing as mine, and from the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.

Charlie, a studious, engaged grad student with a quiet passion for what he studies (Iraqi history) wanted to go to Syria. He, his best friend Larry, and similarly aged Laura were the group planning on going. Word leaked to a certain student, we'll call her "Yenta", and - I was present for this - she pounced on them last Tuesday, invited herself and a few others, and pretty much took over. After all, she's been to Damascus 4 times in the last 5 years, and knows exactly what she's doing. The party ended up including Yenta, "Little Daoud" (there are 3 here), and the original 3. There was another 3 in another taxi, but they got seperated at the border, and never saw the others again.

Charlie should have known that his weekend had been hijacked when Yenta called a planning meeting of "everybody who wants to go to Syria" on Thursday. He attended.

On the way to Syria, the taxis made a pit stop at the west edge of the Beqaa Valley, in Chtaura. There, Yenta started a haggling argument with her driver: she and the others in her cab had paid extra to get AC, and she thought the AC wasn't working well enough to warrant that much extra ($4 per person). She eventually got the price down, but it was a Pyrrhic victory because most of the group didn't go along with the agreement, and just paid in full, she risked getting stranded in the Beqaa by angry drivers, and she made the whole group mad at her.

By some evil twist of fate, Charlie ended up in Daoud and Yenta's car from Chtaura to Damascus. It was brutal. Daoud, who's a young and innocently obnoxious kid with a reputation for stating the painfully obvious as though it were some sudden revelation at completely random intervals. Actually, the interval may not be completely random, since this does occur quite frequently... nonetheless, he can be a trying companion. Anyway, Yenta played off of Daoud. He would say something dumb, and she would elaborate with her patronizing, I'm-a-Ph.D.-student-and-you're-not tone. Then he would respond inanely, and she would take off once again, educating the poor benighted masses of such well-guarded secrets as the inherent danger of being in the Beqaa, the existence of Hezbollah, and the importance of drinking water when in a desert climate.

Damascus isn't far from here, but I suspect that for Charlie it couldn't have seemed further. The madness continued in the Syrian capital: Yenta took over, though she kept getting lost and referring to Charlie's "Lonely Planet" guide every few minutes. She'd been there 4 times in the past 5 years, mind you, and so she could show them the good stuff. Like the beautiful old souks, where she slowed the group to a crawl as she insisted on entering every single shop while everyone else was agitating to move on and get lunch. Charlie's not the confrontational type, but finally shut her down when they were dining at a nice Syrian restaurant. She gave him the menu, and promptly pointed out "this is the English, and this is the Arabic." According to Charlie, his withering "I can read" quieted her down for 10 minutes or so. The worst of having Yenta as a tour guide was that they missed certain sites because she'd already seen them, and wasn't taking input from the others on how to budget their brief time. Yes, Charlie, we feel your pain.

After puking for 4 hours in the hotel shower Friday night (and not having the consideration to at least turn the shower on), Daoud continued blithely driving his party crazy throughout the day Saturday. After getting on their bad side by condemning their alcohol consumption (they had sat down at a cafe to have a beer) out of his good Muslim heart, he set himself up for Charlie's shut-down by displaying his complete ignorance of Islamic history. The Ummayad mosque, Damascus' #1 sight, was the center of the Islamic Empire from 650-750, when the Ummayad Dynasty was expanding the empire to Spain and India, and apparently is quite a splendiforous affair. Charlie recalls having a near-religious experience in the mosque when gazing at the tomb of Saladin, a man he has been fascinated by and studied thoroughly since the sixth grade. Still glowing, they stepped outside. Daoud shattered the moment with a giggly "He isn't really in there, is he... I mean, he'd be decomposed by now if he was." Little Daoud's lip started quivering, by Charlie's account, when the latter delivered the killer line in a cold, calculating monotone, "Yes, Daoud, his body is in there. And considering he was buried in 1190, it's probably decomposed by now."


Perhaps I should stick to telling my own stories - you be the judge. And yes, I intended it to be melodramatic; when not delivered as a profane tirade, it needs some sort of schtick to prop it up. Maybe that wasn't the right schtick... I dunno. But that's just a little piece of my life here, and considering I've heard the whole story twice, I figured I should even the score by telling it once. Now it's off to the beach!

Beirut Report VII

Originally written on Monday, 7-15-02.

Chapter I, In which I am speechless, but still manage to say a lot.

.........on Saturday night Dalia, and a lot of other family and friends, ate over my cousins' place, and I chatted with her a little. That night I asked Gaby if he thought it would be OK, he said "well, her father's a priest, so you might want to ask my sister Genie, because she knows Dalia better." The next day, yesterday, Dalia et al came over at 3 or 4, because the first D'hour- Shweer Beer Festival was going down that night. I never got the chance to ask Genie anything, but I talked politics, religion, and relationships with Dalia on the back porch, on the walk down to the D'hour "saha" (town square), in the local pub where we all downed excellent al-Maza pilsener, enduring a Lebanese heavy metal band, enjoying a Lebanese rock band, cheering D'hour's own Miss Lebanon, and watching the fireworks (which went off directly overhead).

She initiated conversation as much as I did, and I wouldn't have turned the conversation to dating and relationships - which she did while the second, much better, band was playing. I think it was when she finished telling her second "this-guy-liked-me-but-it-didn't-work-out" story and said "I would never go out with a guy I didn't like" that I casually said, "Well, I'd like to take you out sometime, for coffee or dinner or something...etc.". She said, "What was that? I couldn't hear you." Gulp. Is that a polite "no" in this culture? So I repeated myself, in slightly simpler terms, and over the music. She blushed slightly, turned her head, and murmured something to the effect of "that would be nice", and was clearly quite pleased. She then surprised me, saying "The first time we met, I saw you, and I thought 'why is he looking at me like that?'"

I guess she now knows why.

In other news, it was a great weekend overall. Thursday night I went to a bar on Rue Monot with friends, had a couple al-Maza's, and enjoyed the European atmosphere, American classic rock, and lively Lebanese crowds. Friday afternoon I sunned on the beach with classmates, and relaxed at home.

Saturday was our weekly field trip, and 25 of us piled into the tour bus at 9:00 and took off across Beirut. The mountain starts the moment you leave Beirut proper. By the time the bus, which had a fine interior but a weak engine, crawled to the top of approximately 4,000 feet of switchbacks it was easily an hour later, though we'd only gone 25 or 30 miles. We rumbled down the other side, and made our first stop at Ksara winery, on the western edge of the flat and fertile Beqaa Valley. The winery, or it's storage caves, more precisely, were fascinating: thousands of barrels and bottles of aging red and white Ksara were nestled into centuries-old corridors and chambers in the cool underground honeycomb.

After a few sips of a fruity white wine, we got back on the bus and drove at higher speeds up and across the valley to the ancient city of Baalbek. Honestly, the ride there interested me as much as the prodigious ruins. Most of the lampposts all the way across were decorated with Hezbollah flags and posters, and Lebanese checkpoints were intermingled with Syrian. Like the PLO before it, Hezbollah has built a state-within-a-state in southern and eastern Lebanon. Sponsored by drug sales, Iran, wealthy Arabs, and probably outsourced terrorist training, Hezbollah has the funds and organization to run the schools, hospitals, and public works in a large part of a very small country. Lebanese freely admit that their own army - which can be seen everywhere, like in front of McDonalds, where there are always two MP's with automatic rifles - is far inferior to the Hezbollah force, which could turn the country into a Shi'ite Islamic state if Syria ever let it (which it won't, in the foreseeable future). In the past two years, Hezbollah has made only token attacks on Israel, content to be a pest and to draw a few soldiers away from the Occupied Territories. However, they know that Ariel Sharon has no qualms about coming into Lebanon to destroy parastate enemies if they're too dangerous, and they're apparently working on a massive image campaign. They don't want to fade from relevance now that Israel has ended it's 18-year occupation of South Lebanon, and their reportedly growing ties with the European Union are designed to ensure the organization's place in Middle East geopolitics for years to come.

Needless to say, we took a tour of the stunning Baalbek ruins, where the annual "Baalbek Festival" is ongoing. Three temples - Jupiter's, Bacchus', and Venus', are still identifiable. Jupiter's is largely ruined, but was of phenomenal size in it's day, stretching easily across four acres, by my estimation. Bacchus' is the most intact, with all four walls standing, with the magnificent lintel reinstated by Kaiser Wilhelm I, because it is adorned with a carved eagle, a symbol the nationalistic Kaiser was loathe to see lying on the ground.

After all the walking, we were quite hungry, and by the time we had retraced our steps across the valley to Zahle, we were really hungry. Incidentally, Zahle is the culinary capital of Lebanon, and indeed of the Middle East. We ate in one of the famous outdoor restaurants stretched along Zahle's small river in the center of town, with steep foothills rising behind us. We paid a third of that establishment's "good price", as suggested by the Lonely Planet guide, thanks to our large number. A three-course meal of more hummous, tabouli, kashka, kibbe, stuffed grape leaves, labneh, fried cheese sticks, garlic mashed potatoes, baba ghanough, spinach turnovers, roasted onions, lamb pastries, chicken kebabs, beef kebabs, kafta, fresh peaches, pears, plums, grapes, apples, kiwi, bananas, and vile-tasting arak than you could possibly eat if you sat there all day, all for $8.

Well, you can chew on that for now; I'm off to do laundry, homework, and find some postcards.

Golden Cloak & Dagger Awards

I wouldn't venture to call it a scholarly source, but for the latest conspiracy theories and who's who in the in spy world, check out William Safire's nytimes editorial. Of special interest to me are the following awards:

Syria, say members of the peer-review panel, is runner-up for the Golden Cloak & Dagger for its post-Sept.-11 strategic coup. Damascus is said to have made a deal with the C.I.A.: We'll help you track down Al Qaeda, saving American lives, if you don't give us a hard time on Hezbollah based in Syrian-occupied Lebanon, which costs only Israeli lives. As a result, even though the U.S. solemnly tut-tuts at active Syrian support of these terrorists, Syria was not included in President Bush's "axis of evil."
This unverified account goes further: in return for a promise of secret U.S. use of Syrian territory near Iraq in the next attack on Saddam Hussein, as took place when Syria joined the allied coalition in Gulf War I, the U.S. has turned a blind eye to Syria's payment in oil from Iraq for being the conduit of Russian replacement parts for Saddam's aging MIG-29 planes and T-62 tanks.
Practitioners of espionage everywhere salute Bashar al-Assad. The eye doctor, who succeeded his father as dictator, is taking excellent instruction in duplicity from his experienced spymaster.

Arms Cache Found

It's hard to argue with Sharon's policies when they show successes - like finding a large arms cache in Nablus, which came out on Ha'aretz three minutes ago. However, just because suicide bombings are down in the short run doesn't mean a long-term calm is anywhere in sight, nor does it mean that Israel is more secure than if it had a accomodationist administration which didn't reject peace as an option. Sharon is basically taking the "unconditional surrender" approach to Palestinians, and has shown complete unwillingness to cooperate. As Ha'aretz columnist Aluf Benn writes today, Sharon is at his political peak. I only hope Benn is right; I don't want to imagine what the world could be like if Sharon became even more powerful!

On a completely different note, the All-Star Game was an abomination. Again. Not only because it ended in an ignominious tie, but because it's not a competition, and it hasn't been for years. If I were Bud Selig, who now more than ever has a fire lit beneath him, I would (a) give the winning team in the All-Star Game home field advantage in the World Series, (b) get rid of interleague play after 2003, at which point every team will have played every other division, (c) give the players the labor deal they want in exchange for contraction, (d) give the owners the contraction they want in exchange for a little more revenue sharing. Just push that revenue-share bar a little higher every year, like boiling a frog. Oh, and lastly, if I were Bud Selig, I wouldn't show my face within gunshot of the public for about a year.

Paint 'em With A Broad Brush

Israel's Minister of Public Security, hard-line Sharon ally Uzi Landau, ordered the arrest this morning of one of Palestine's most prominent peace activists. The only message this arrest sends is that the Sharon administration makes no distinction between peaceful and belligerent Palestinians, and has no desire to share any land with anyone. It's high time the U.S. suspended any and all funding that we are providing to Israel in compensation for the Oslo Accords, since they have been "virtually obliterated" by Israel throughout the Sharon administration.

Biological note from nytimes.com:
Dr. Nusseibeh, scion of one this city's princely Arab families, a tweedy, Oxford- and Harvard-educated intellectual, has been a driving force among Palestinians who have signed a statement urging their compatriots to abandon suicide bombings against Israeli civilians as counterproductive. He has publicly said Palestinians must abandon their claim to a right of return to Palestinian lands. His stands have drawn death threats from other Palestinians, and the Palestinian Authority has had to provide him with guards.

Beirut Report VI

I'm feeling much better today, and it seems as though my case of the flu was about average; some guys are spending a whole day vomiting. I was pretty much laid up from noon yesterday until 7:40 this morning, when I resumed normal life, well rested if still a bit weak.

When walking through Beirut on Sunday, I came across the old division of East and West Beirut. At the present, it's identifiable by a vacant lot running north-south between two large (and probably new) streets. Many of the older buildings on each side are severely shot up, with artillery shell-holes accompanying the now-familiar marks of small-arms fire. New buildings have been built in and around the vacant area since the war, especially at the north end, near downtown. However, many of the apartment buildings along it are still uninhabitable and it's not too hard too imagine a war going on along that line.

I haven't done much research at all on the Lebanese civil war; mostly I'm familiar with Israel's involvement, and some stuff I've read, heard or seen since my arrival. My colleagues, however, recommend "From Beirut to Jerusalem", by Thomas Friedman, and the movie "West Beirut" as a good introduction to the subject. I think Friedman's book is banned here; otherwise I'd try to find it. I really lack anything to read, and I might visit a local bookstore soon, though the selection wouldn't be great.

I have colloquial Lebanese class in an hour; it's a 1-credit course that I may drop if it doesn't improve. Right now it's not teaching me much, and it's confusing to learn both colloquial and modern standard at the same time.

Marid

Marid is an Arabic word meaning "sick". It is a descriptive adjective. Very descriptive.

So yeah, I've met up with both "Ed" and "Ralph", and though they've been quiet since about noon, I'm as weak as a leaf right now and surprised that I could move myself all the way to the computer room. I'm not sure where the bug is from; the doctor says that an intestinal flu has been making the rounds, while my friends cite Saturday's trip into the mountains, saying a number of people got sick there.

Saturday night I caught up on sleep, though I was interrupted at one a.m. and again at nine thirty and noon by phone calls. The first one the RA botched, so I didn't get it; the second one went dead just as I picked it up! I suspected that my family was trying to reach me from Europe - and I'd really like to talk to them, seeing as I haven't heard a peep since I got here. The last call I connected, and it was my roommate's mother. Oh well. However, if my family is out there somewhere, I'd love to know whether or not y'all are alive...

Sunday afternoon I walked across Beirut and back for three hours starting at 2:30. That was, however, seriously too early; it's a hot and humid city, and I was beat and a little sick. Now I'm a lot sick. Well, I've pretty much run out of energy, so talk to ya later.

Beirut Report V

I'm done with the first week of class here, but it feels like a month! We don't have much homework (I wish we had a bit more), but 4 hours of class and the sudden start of everything was quite a brain shock.

I'm enjoying myself, but I'm also a little homesick. I miss my family and friends, and I miss Boston a lot. I don't know why; usually this doesn't happen when I go overseas, and certainly not right at the beginning! I guess maybe it means I've really become at home in Boston, or something like that. Hopefully I'll get better and not worse as the weeks go by.

It's been an awesome weekend: after a relaxing Friday afternoon and evening, I went with about 10 others from the Arabic program to the AUB graduation party. There were some 2,500 people, and it was at a beautiful beach resort in Sidon. I didn't drink much - just 2 and a half drinks, but it was enough to make me feel it just a bit. Definitely not a pleasant feeling. There was an open bar, and all-you-can-eat Lebanese food, which was fantastic. Then I danced for an hour or so, relaxed near the beach, and headed home.

We got home at 6:00am and had to get up by 9 to go on a trip with our group! The trip was great, too -- an old palace, Lebanese "mezza" lunch, and we got to personally meet Walid Jumblatt, the head of the Lebanese Druze community, which was a great honor. His house and its grounds were exactly what I would build were I a millionaire - winding paths between cool stone buildings, live streams plunging down waterfalls crisscrossing the property, a very three-dimensional plan, ivy everywhere, a library, even rare antelope in a large yard!

In a little while I'm going out to eat in Beirut with my 3rd cousins, and I'm tired already! Yikes...

P.S. Since I know at least three of you are in utter desperation to know who I danced with, for about half an hour it was opposite Laura, a 29-year-old who just quit her job as the producer of CNN Asia's nightly news. No, it wasn't romantic, and unlike American places I've been to, this Lebanese dance floor was not lewd or crude. And, believe it or not, everyone was smiling and laughing, and having a good time. While drunk kids the world over get on my nerves, at least the Lebanese are happy when they drink!

Beirut Report IV

This year marked only the third time in my life that I've been overseas on the Fourth of July. There isn't much to say about it - all the Americans wished each other a happy 4th, exchanged knowing looks, and went back to class. Classes here start at 8:00am and run until noon. My class - Low Intermediate - has two teachers, who share the time. The first half of class is spent going over the lessons and vocabulary with Rima, a Lebanese graduate student. We then have a half-hour break, which I'm on right now, and return to do application, exercises, and stuff with the more laid-back Mazin, also a grad student.

Sadly to say, the "pledge" to speak only Arabic by the students was not well executed. In a sense it was too rigid; there's no way we could have communicated in Arabic beyond "street talk", and I think it might have worked better if we had been allowed to speak English after 6:00pm, for instance. As it is, students generally lapse into English very quickly, and all relaxed evening chatter is in English. I'm trying to have some conversations in Arabic, especially with the students who are more comfortable with the language. When I visit my family in the mountains again this Sunday, I plan to ask for Arabic-only, since most of what I'd talk about there is fairly simple, and there I'll be the only non-native Arabic speaker, so it'll be a much easier environment to maintain Arabic-only.

I'm going to try and take a nap after class today to prepare for the big party tonight. Graduation for A.U.B. undergrads is this evening, and after that there's a big open-bar, all-you-can-eat beach bash at a resort near Sidon. Most of our group is going, so it should be a good time. And no, I won't be getting drunk, though I am legal to drink here.

Tomorrow we have our first field trip - we're going to the Chouf area, to see small towns and ancient ruins. Our colorful colloquial teacher, Wafaa', will be leading the trip, since it's near her hometown. After that, I plan to spend Sunday with my family. I'll have more on all that after the weekend.

My sympathies with all my Bostonian friends - it's been hotter in Boston than in Beirut the past few days! Here every day is like the last 30 Centigrade, 75% humidity, water temperature is 27 C, and there's always a breeze off the water. Hot weather, but not unbearable given AC and cold showers.

Ok, I've got to finish up and get back to class... ma' salaameh!

Back to Basics

Milton Friedman, the most recognized name in current economic theory, the leader of the monetarist school of thought, and a Nobel Prize winner, deigned to write about school vouchers. It's worth a read.

Culture

It's no secret that the Arab social order has serious flaws. And I don't think anyone is suggesting a quick fix. However, a new report by "Arab intellectuals commissioned by the U.N." has some stunning statistics. In a year, the entire Arab world (which has a population equal to the U.S.) translates just 330 books! By comparison, the NYTimes article records, Greece translates 5 times that many, and Spain in one year translates as many books as have been translated in the last 1000 years by Arabs! Truly embarrasing. Obviously, one issue is that the upper-echelon Arab minds all emigrate to freer and wealthier climes, and the educated Arabs read English and French, and thus don't need translation. However, since these stats are indeed indicative of Arab stagnation at large, it would behoove Gulf governments (who have plenty of loose cash) to assist in the refinement of their populaces.

Beirut Report III

Last night Jared, Trish, and I took a walk to visit the famous Commodore Hotel. That turned out to be a very upclass place, so much so that we didn't even go inside. I've never read "From Beirut to Jerusalem", which other students highly acclaim, saying if you only read one book about the Middle East, this is the book to read. Anyway, the Commodore is central in that book, but they think it might be a different location currently than it was during the civil war; I don't know.

Having seen that, just half a mile from A.U.B., we decided to walk downtown. As we approached central Beirut, we began seeing more and more buildings pockmarked by bullets, some ruined completely, others still inhabited. At the same time, we began seeing more and more brand-new, splendid stone buildings, results of the rebuilding programme which is being undergone by a French development company under contract from the Lebanese government. This dichotomy crescendoed as we approached le Place de l'Etoile, the breathtaking central city. This new pedestrian area is modeled after the style of the traditional Arab souk: little storefronts clamoring for space along the central walkway, and numerous cafes spilling out into the middle of the street. However, the new streets are wider, with attractive architecture and the sidewalk roof held up by majestic stone pillars. The view from the back of the cafes and some of the streets is onto a wide valley full of intact archeological findings from ancient Beirut. The Parliament, right in le Place de l'Etoile, is probably the most ingenious architecture I've ever seen, if London's Parliament was the most beautiful. The Parliament building is built, like the surrounding souks, of matching tan stone. However, halfway up the building, in the middle (but not on the ends), it segways to glass. At a first glance, you don't even notice the modernistic touch - it reflects the sky to anyone standing in the street. The border between glass and stone is done so as to look like the uneven roof of a building with varied heights, and blends seemlessly with the surroundings.

However, just meters away are once-splendid structures now gutted and misshapen by gunfire. The fist-sized impacts of small arms fire, and the occasional deep scar of an RPG or artillery shell leave a commanding reminder of the 1975-1990 civil war. Many of these marred facades are now covered by full-size banner advertisements, put up by the redeveloper to cover blemishes until they can be completely resurrected.

The walk home along the Corniche was a different type of dichotomy, mixing new and old Beirut. The 6-meter-wide sidewalk is crowded with Lebanese of all shapes and sizes. In the morning, you find the teeming thousands getting their American-style workout: powerwalkers, joggers, strolling mothers with infants, and older people trying to stay as young as their Western counterparts come out in varied garb: some can barely be seen, sweating through heavy flowing robes and conservative hejabs. Others are in shorts, and there's even the occasional sports bra - a sight unheard of in Amman, Ramallah or Cairo. The evening crowd, as one would expect, is out for a night on the shore, where the brisk breeze cools the elsewhere tepid air. They stop at little shacks for ice cream sandwiches, at fancy restaurants for Lebanese mezza, or at the Hard Rock Cafe for a few drinks. They move along slowly, savoring the Mediterranean night, and slowly because the sidewalk is too crowded to move any faster.

Eventually, we reach the foot of the A.U.B. campus, greet the security guard, and step out onto Bliss Street, where the shwarma stall owner apologizes to Jared that he has just one type of sandwich left to offer at 9:30. Jared is satisfied, takes his sandwich, and we cross the street to the gate near our dorm.

Beirut Report II

Day One has gone well so far: we had an introduction to the intensive Arabic course we're all taking, an icebreaker in which I made a fool of myself, a grueling, 2-hour placement test, an oral Arabic interview, and a lunch on the house. The real thing begins tomorrow, and the REAL thing - a pledge signing ceremony in which we agree to speak only Arabic for the next 6 weeks - is the day after that, I think.

The group of students I'm with is really fantastic: mostly Americans, but all people with a real love for the culture and language of the Middle East and a driving urge to learn. In that sense, it's radically different than my experience in Boston collegiate culture, where most people want to get their degree, get good grades, and most importantly have a good time. Anybody who sacrificed their summer and a good amount of cash to study here is definitely in it for the language, and it makes for a great group.

The A.U.B. campus is everything I'd been told, and more: it's set on a steep hillside, and runs about half a mile along the hill overlooking the Mediterranean. The old buildings are tastefully discrete, made of stone, and nestled among exotic trees and flowers. The campus is centered around the oldest building, College Hall, which was destroyed in 1991 by an unknown bomber. It was rebuilt a little bigger by 1999, and is a very attractive introduction to the campus. The beach is a bit of an exageration; the only sand is in the volleyball court; the rest is rock and concrete. However, the water is still very nice, and the sun is too - my pink skin bears witness.

OK, folks - comment on the blog and get your friends to come visit if you want to keep getting news. It's not as easy to get online here as it is at home (I'm in the library right now), and I need to feel the love to stay on the happy side! Peace - now I gotta run to our "Travel Health Issues" briefing.

Beirut Report I

Anyway, all has gone well so far. I had a good flight, spent a few hours going around London, and made it into Beirut on schedule. I quickly got in contact with 3rd-cousins, and spent the second night up in the mountains. The Skaf clan is large and active, and I was welcomed with open arms. They have nice houses, servants, and SUV's.

The young people include Gaby, his sisters Genie & Lama, their cousin Bashar, and their circle of friends. I stayed at the home of Hind Skaf, middle-aged and unmarried, who lives with her mother and downstairs from her brother and his young family.

Relationally, the Skafs are descended from Sofia Skaf, nee Kfouri, whose father Ayoub took the rest of his family to America during the First World War. Ayoub had a son named Yousef, or Joseph, who had three sons: Kenneth, Ralph, and Ferris. Ralph is my grandfather.

At A.U.B. I've made a few early acquantances: my roommate Eyad Zahri, a Syrian-American arrived from Damascus yesterday. I flew in on the same plane as David E, one of the teachers. He's a Canadian, and a Ph.D. candidate at Harvard. He'll be teaching High Beginners' Arabic, and I found out from him that they're planning to copy a Middlebury College regimen that has been effective their: forced immersion. At Middlebury, students of any of their 8 languages sign a pledge to speak just their own language, and are held to that pledge by policing professors. So, with the exception of writing home, I'd be on an Arabic-only programme, which I would definitely like, as hard as it may be.

Originally written Sunday, June 30.