In the beginning...
Summer has come and all noisy life is out in force with the sole mission of disturbing my repose. I am of a generation that once considered itself cool, today the kids call me '3amo', an Arabic word meaning uncle. Well, at least its not grandfather!
Sitting on my ancient veranda in Mount Lebanon, I look out on to the dusty, hazy air hanging over Beirut and I thank God I don't have to be down there. Breathing is important, so is what we breathe, it is a good thing we don't actually see the air we breathe, well, most of the time we don't see the air we breathe. So, its always a good idea to avoid going anywhere the atmosphere has form and a colour coupled with a distinct odour, probably the first lesson soldiers are taught in case of chemical attack, 'move away from the yellowish/beige cloud of poison gas'! And yet, most Lebanese have no option but to visit this city for their work.
I always wondered why so many businesses are located in Beirut. I understand that for logistical reasons some at least have no choice, but for most being based in the capital is not essential. But then again there is a reason for this concentration of commercial activity and the interminable chaotic traffic filling its widest roads to its narrowest streets, generating such heat as to make living or even breathing at street level near impossible: our transport and communication infrastructure is laughably inadequate.
I dream of the day when trains of every kind crisscross our country, when electric trams are reintroduced to cities and cars are banned from city centres, when bus lines efficiently deliver people to their desired destination at designated bus stops, a time when highways are free of roadside clutter, shops and malls that distract the eye and divert attention, highways that are well maintained, with clearly marked lanes and lay-by areas. I dream of a day when tunnels burrow through the mountains and allow coastal dwellers to reach the Bekaa in minutes. I dream of a day when we can fully exploit our resources while preserving our dwindling green spaces. I dream of a day when the barren anti-Lebanon mountain range becomes our sole source of sand and gravel and building materials which can be efficiently extracted and transported across Lebanon to satisfy construction needs along brand new highways that connect north and south and centre efficiently cutting down transport costs.
In short, I dream of a country we all deserve. But, then again, its easy to dream on my veranda with the cool summer breeze caressing my face. Did I mention how grateful I am not to be in Beirut right now? In case I didn't, I am, very.
Today, sadly, I lack any power to affect or impact public opinion or hold elected officials to account, demand answers to questions, write on a front page, or earn the wrath of power, not that I ever did. I am a docile plant eater you could say, a weekday vegetarian (Sunday is meat day, sorry, its my reward for the rest of the week), I worry too much about what people think of me, I am vain and I want to be liked by everyone. I am a shameless self-censoring coward... So, what's the problem you would ask, I could work in any corporate media establishment, I'm their ideal candidate after all. Unfortunately, I have an annoying habit: writing blogs!
You see a blog is a wonderful tool for expressing ire and for starting online feuds, its great to have a rant, to condemn the powerful and decry one thing or another, its also a great outlet for the intolerant and prejudiced. So, good and bad share this platform, this world of personal blogging, but it is in effect a solitary activity for the lonely, in that sense it serves a masturbatory function and offers a unique kind of pleasure. I am not saying of course that all blogs are exercises in self abuse, far from it, but let's face it, most people, me included, are not Edward R. Murrow.
But thank God for diversity, and by that I mean the sheer diversity of bloggers out there, they can range from bible thumping right wing fake-newsers to bleeding heart animal loving liberals, from housewives and proud moms blogging about their children's adorableness to pseudo-journalists wishing to right many many wrongs by never leaving their apartment. But, above all, thank God for the many many verandas whose vistas and cooling breezes serve to inspire a closet author or two. What would we do without this digital miracle! Viva blogging!
Sitting on my ancient veranda in Mount Lebanon, I look out on to the dusty, hazy air hanging over Beirut and I thank God I don't have to be down there. Breathing is important, so is what we breathe, it is a good thing we don't actually see the air we breathe, well, most of the time we don't see the air we breathe. So, its always a good idea to avoid going anywhere the atmosphere has form and a colour coupled with a distinct odour, probably the first lesson soldiers are taught in case of chemical attack, 'move away from the yellowish/beige cloud of poison gas'! And yet, most Lebanese have no option but to visit this city for their work.
I always wondered why so many businesses are located in Beirut. I understand that for logistical reasons some at least have no choice, but for most being based in the capital is not essential. But then again there is a reason for this concentration of commercial activity and the interminable chaotic traffic filling its widest roads to its narrowest streets, generating such heat as to make living or even breathing at street level near impossible: our transport and communication infrastructure is laughably inadequate.
I dream of the day when trains of every kind crisscross our country, when electric trams are reintroduced to cities and cars are banned from city centres, when bus lines efficiently deliver people to their desired destination at designated bus stops, a time when highways are free of roadside clutter, shops and malls that distract the eye and divert attention, highways that are well maintained, with clearly marked lanes and lay-by areas. I dream of a day when tunnels burrow through the mountains and allow coastal dwellers to reach the Bekaa in minutes. I dream of a day when we can fully exploit our resources while preserving our dwindling green spaces. I dream of a day when the barren anti-Lebanon mountain range becomes our sole source of sand and gravel and building materials which can be efficiently extracted and transported across Lebanon to satisfy construction needs along brand new highways that connect north and south and centre efficiently cutting down transport costs.
In short, I dream of a country we all deserve. But, then again, its easy to dream on my veranda with the cool summer breeze caressing my face. Did I mention how grateful I am not to be in Beirut right now? In case I didn't, I am, very.
Today, sadly, I lack any power to affect or impact public opinion or hold elected officials to account, demand answers to questions, write on a front page, or earn the wrath of power, not that I ever did. I am a docile plant eater you could say, a weekday vegetarian (Sunday is meat day, sorry, its my reward for the rest of the week), I worry too much about what people think of me, I am vain and I want to be liked by everyone. I am a shameless self-censoring coward... So, what's the problem you would ask, I could work in any corporate media establishment, I'm their ideal candidate after all. Unfortunately, I have an annoying habit: writing blogs!
You see a blog is a wonderful tool for expressing ire and for starting online feuds, its great to have a rant, to condemn the powerful and decry one thing or another, its also a great outlet for the intolerant and prejudiced. So, good and bad share this platform, this world of personal blogging, but it is in effect a solitary activity for the lonely, in that sense it serves a masturbatory function and offers a unique kind of pleasure. I am not saying of course that all blogs are exercises in self abuse, far from it, but let's face it, most people, me included, are not Edward R. Murrow.
But thank God for diversity, and by that I mean the sheer diversity of bloggers out there, they can range from bible thumping right wing fake-newsers to bleeding heart animal loving liberals, from housewives and proud moms blogging about their children's adorableness to pseudo-journalists wishing to right many many wrongs by never leaving their apartment. But, above all, thank God for the many many verandas whose vistas and cooling breezes serve to inspire a closet author or two. What would we do without this digital miracle! Viva blogging!
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