Television

I walked out of the Mayflower Hotel towards the American University of Beirut. My plan was to walk around campus looking at the bulletin boards to see if there were any notices for people who need a roommate. Before I even entered the gates of AUB, I noticed such a notice on a piece of paper taped to a public phone. It read, “Roommate wanted, five minutes walk to AUB”. Perfect. I called the number and Hisham said he would be right down to meet me. It was right in the area I wanted to live in and for about half the price that I was ready to spend. We checked out the place and came to an agreement. And that was that.

I left my room that morning looking for an apartment, walked out the door, called the first number I found, and an hour later I was shaking hands. That pretty much sums up my first five days here in Beirut. Everything has been quite easy, all in all. The people that I have met have all been warm and friendly and eager to talk about their country or show you around. Obviously, that makes getting to know a place a lot easier (If you don't believe me, try it in France).

The next day, I checked out of my hotel and moved into my new pad. Its a one bedroom (the reason its so cheap), so we have had two beds installed. The bathroom is tiny. But the place does have its advantages. We are on the eighth floor and there is a decent sized balcony. Cable, and utilities are included. The place is cleaned and our beds our made daily. Our dishes are washed. Its furnished.

Its also close to campus, which is good for Hisham, but also good for me because the AUB campus is very beautiful and is one of the greenest areas in the entire city. Beirut has so much going for it, but one thing it lacks in is green spaces like gardens and parks. So its good be close the campus.

The apartment is also close the police station. I don't know if that makes me more safe or less, but it is interesting. I am told that this particular police station is responsible for drugs and prostitution. Beirut Vice, if you will. The place has a nasty reputation for, ahhh, getting confessions. Maybe that's just an urban legend concocted to dissuade people from engaging in the above mentioned activities, but still, it makes me think twice every time I walk past.

On Friday, as I was walking towards the station, I saw a commotion. Horns honking, people starring at the front doors of the place. Apparently, they had just apprehended a suspect and were dragging him in for questioning. Men in plain clothes milled around with walkie talkies and assault rifles. One guy in what looked like an '84 S-Box sedan with an AK-47 (riding shotgun) tried to maneuver around the scene. He must have been a cop, because the other cops were all chuckling at how enraged the man was at the traffic.

On foot, I was making more progress. When he finally caught up to where I was walking, at the entrance to the police station parking, he crashed through some barricades as the other cops laughed and he parked his car in a hurry. I would love to know what he was so upset about, but I have a feeling I might not get the answers I would be looking for if I went down to the station and started nosing around.

The whole thing was very exciting. Suspect getting dragged in in handcuffs, people in regular clothes with big guns, pissed off cop crashing through stuff in his crappy car. I could almost hear him say, “I'm gettin' too old for this sh*t!” like some crusty detective from some bad cop show.

But its not a show. This is real life. Peace and order here is something to be treasured. There is a reason the police can be ruthless and angry. There is a reason there are guards and barricades in front of “important” peoples' houses. There is a reason the American embassy has been relocated twice, currently in an area far outside the city.

As a traveler, its always a challenge for me to put myself in my surroundings mentally. I was in Sri Lanka days after the 2004 tsunami. The destruction and loss was unfathomable to me. Literally. I couldn't fathom it. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching it on television. People would come up to me and tell me their stories and I would feel compassion and sadness for a while, but I never felt like I could understand even one percent of what those people were enduring right in front of my eyes.

So I have to resist the same condition here. That's part of the reason I am staying here for three months (fiduciary and bureaucratic limitations not withstanding). I want to live here. I want to have an apartment and pay rent. I want to do laundry and go grocery shopping. I want to make friends. I want to see what its like be emotionally invested in another country's well being. Because until that happens, you can never fully appreciate a city and its struggles. I am not sure if I will be able to accomplish this in my time here, but I will try. I just know that I don't want to feel like I am watching it on TV.