Casablanca

This morning, the Israelis bombed my road to Damascus.

It happened at 5 am - the road and I think a few other targets out by the airport, about 5 miles away. Still, we could feel the shockwave - it woke us all up. Myself and the four other guys sleeping in the hostel dorm (they were: Pole A and Pole B, the reporter from Portugal and the American) ran up the steps of the building to the roof. Dawn had just broken and we could see the smoke snaking up through the morning mist miles off.


Soon, the other hostel dwellers joined us. I can't speak highly enough of Talal and his international hostel. It's like a model UN - Polish, Portuguese, Arabic, English, Japanese, Canadian - it's all spoken here. With tensions rising (generally) the debates between the hostel tennants are teaching me more about other points of view than even the month long symposium on middle east conflict resolution I just attended.


A few more claps of thunder knocked through the city and then the city stayed quiet for a while. The crowd on the roof (all men, oddly, even though there were a handful of women staying here as well - why all men?) slipped back down into the building and back to sleep.

Talal's a savvy businessman; what with the mild Mediterranean weather and little/no rain here, he's put beds actually on top of the building - four bunks up on the roof. I sat back on one of the old mattresses, one eye watching the smoke, the other watching the rising sun and passed out. When I woke up: a) the power was out and b) the Japanese had sent a car for the Japanese citizens staying in Talal's. God Bless Japanese efficiency.

Two things: a) Fridays are a day of rest for many Lebanese and b) the city is generally/comparatively a ghost town. During the evenings, the Talal group watches TV and, when bombs sound, runs to the roof or the balcony to see what got hit. But during the day - especially today - it was just hours or sitting, waiting, frustration. On my flight from JFK, one of the inflight movies was Casablanca - one of my favorites, so I stayed up less to watch and more to ...dream? I guess? The romantic in me? Planned to find a way to get there before I went back to the States.

Well, I made it. A bunch of expats, sitting around, wasting time and money until the war/diplomatic efforts release them from this stupid prison. In fact, today while looking at a tourist map of the city, I found out that there's a restaurant not a mile from my hostel: Rest. Casablanca. Tomorrow, if I don't make a run for the Syrian border, that's where you'll find me. And if you do find me, could you bring a chopper?

YESTERDAY: After I left the coffee shop (which was closed today - the manager said none of the employees showed up), I ran to the news building. "Who needs a cameraman?" just ran up and down stairs, asking CNN, BBC, AP, whoever looked frantic "what can I do? I did film in undergrad!" It was sheer insanity, and (actually) BBC and the AP actually took my cell. "We...yeah, we might actually need you."

On the way out of the building, a news crew had set up on the sidewalk - they were: two women (chainsmoking (producers?)); one cameraman (struggling with the smoking generator); one male reporter (waiting impatiently for cameraman, under lights).

I introduced myself, told them what I could offer:

Producer 1: "Oh great, can you work a PD 170?"
Me: "I can work a 150, so unless there's a huge difference..."
Prod: "Oh, this is great - we need filler shots of the city, people buying groceries and things - this is so great - I mean, we don't even have an office yet, this is just so lucky to find you!"
(exchanges of cell phone numbers and agreements for meeting the next day and introductions and...the reporter walks over...)
Reporter: "Great, good to have you on the team - what's your name?"
Me (excited): "Thomas, sir."
Reporter: "Thomas, great to meet you - Name's Michael. Welcome to Fox News."

Gah!

Run run run!

The call to prayer was echoing through the city as I ran home. The city was buckling down.

Got back to Hostel. Talal's nephew (who helps run the place) was keeping score of the dead, proud that 19 Israelis had been wounded. I went upstairs to read and wait until the evening, when everyone would again find their way out to the roof and watch the sky.

The only person then in the room was one of the Poles - smoking a cigarette and sipping on Arak. "Oh, it's war war war" he said, "you want Arak?" I thought he said "Iraq" (putting me, as an American in the MidEast, on my conversational gaurd) - "what do you mean?" "Arak, Arak," shaking a small glass bottle at me. "Oh! Oh God yes" and we did shots to peace.

"Why are you here? Why come to Lebanon?" he asked. "I heard they had nice weather," I said. "Oh, yes...you are traveling?" "Yeah." "You are...you are 'life tired'?" "Yeah, I think so," I said, "looks like I picked the worst place in the world to rest up."

Then, I fell asleep until (see beginning of post).

Things are fine now. There have been a few localized hits in the city, but it's always the same - just damage to infrastructure...annoying. At least here. Things are, I'm sure, terribly worse in the south. I count myself lucky. Well, actually the conflict has escalated along the coast here and Hezbollah has begun hitting the Israeli naval ships - I believe with bombs attached to remote control toy boats (at least, that's what Talal says)...but still, Beirut is quiet as always. Tomorrow, the American and I might try for Syria, but my guess is that if the coffeeshop is open I'll just stick around.

Quick answers to FAQs:

Yes, I'm registered with the embassy
No, I don't think the syrians will let me through
Yes, I'm fine