A Rude Awakening...

Sitting on a bench on campus, doing some reading in the morning, and someone comes along to share wisdom. Happens every day? Not like this.

That someone was K., one of the AUB campus cleaning troops -I call them troops because the thought of how monumental the task of cleaning a university campus this large just baffles me.

So how to describe K.? The best way I can put it is to say that he reminded me of Abou Kamal from a while back. A bit younger, but the same expression, on a weary, yet friendly face that has seen so much, so many students, doctors, and professors passing by, most surely too proud to make eye contact, but a welcome few nodding in acknowledgment. The roughed up skin and the snow-white hair again spoke volumes on his behalf, like they did for Abou Kamal.

So as K. walked up to me, and after a friendly "Saba7o estez" ("Good morning sir") asked me it was OK for him to pick up a few spent paper cups left around my bench. "Of course" I replied, and with a few swift picker upper moves worthy of the seasoned veteran that he is, he had cleaned up the area. When he was done, he looked at me and went on a long tirade. He opened with: "oh yes, son, education will give you your life". And from there he went on to tell me his story. Here's what I can manage to translate for you.

I've seen K. around campus many many times, as -apparently- he's worked at AUB since years before I even graduated from high school. He comes from a poor family of 9 children (if I remember correctly), and he talked about how his father could barely afford their everyday expenses, let alone provide them with a proper education. K. was out of school at a very young age, and had gone away against his dad's will to try as he could to get decent jobs here and there. Cleaning, construction, he had done it all by the time he was 18. He had started out at a construction site near the Golf club at Ouzai. 

After a quick biography, K. ended his speech with words that I will not ruin in translation. I was looking at him, and I was lost for words. What do you say to something like that? For a split second, I imagined myself saying how much it sucked to still be a student at my age, or how bad we medical students had it, but this was a brief moment of imagination. Very brief. How inappropriate! I don't remember what I ended up saying, but it was nothing too meaningful, as I blathered out  some insipid philosophical statement about life and how there's always worse off people.

So there I was, thinking about how I (and we all do) had been taking everything for granted. All I ever did was whine about how hard it was to grow up, how bad it was that we had to study for our stupid exams, and it suddenly hit me that I had never really stopped to think about what a blessing it was to actually be learning. I mean I have always loved learning, and wouldn't have it any other way, but I had never thought about it under this light. The difference in perspectives between myself and poor K. at that moment struck me silly (I do NOT mean to say that I felt pity for K. or that I felt superior in any way so please don't misunderstand me). 

This conversation reminded me immediately how quickly and deeply we get cocooned in our entourage, our environment, our everyday silly worries, whatever these may be, in such a way to somehow completely forget about the more unfortunate, the less fortunate, and about what real problems other people may be worrying about, and how disproportionate, if that's a right word to use, these two worlds are. 

This has been a learning experience by itself. Talking to K. felt like a shot of wisdom and perspective on life from the least likely source, and I'm going to keep it, even if I know for a fact that next year (which starts in 2 weeks), I'm going to be whining about the difficulties of medical training, about how people drive like cattle in this country, or how I can't seem to find time to go out for drinks and dinner. But one thing's for certain, K. will be on my mind when I do and I'm sure the thought of it will slap some sense back into me.

This could not have happened at a more appropriate time, for reasons that I will not discuss, and this has made me think about the whole "it's a sign" or "it's meant to be" philosophy, which as I've commented on Posh's post (read it and you'll understand), I am completely against. Nothing has changed in that department, but it got me thinking.

The Most Expensive Shawerma in Lebanon...

S. Told me about this place, and for hours before we even got close to that little corner of heaven, I was anticipating what it would be like. I know this is not new and that I haven't made a world-altering discovery, but it is the first time I've heard of it. 

It's called Shawerma 3al Fahem (Chargrilled Shawerma), and the name says it all... To the shawerma lovers who have not tried it yet, pack up and go right now I tell you!

It is right next to falafel Sahyoun on the street leading from Sodeco Square to Downtown beirut. 

So how was that sandwich? It was a costly one to say the least. This little taste of shawerma heaven, is gonna run you anywhere between 4,000 LBP and 80,000 LBP, plus a confiscated driver's licence... How?? 

Choose from the following items:

Item 1 -  The 50,000 LBP traffic ticket, if you're unfortunate enough (like I was) to be U-turning from the parallel street going the opposite way, and you somehow choose to make that illegal U-turn to save a few meters on your odometer, and a few precious moments of anticipation before you get there. Make sure you call that over-zealous cop, with his newly found preoccupation with our dear traffic system's proper functioning, greater good kind of stuff, and have him amicably fill out the paperwork and confiscate your driver's licence. He's sure to be there, in some wickedly strategic position, hunting for wrong-way outlaws!

Item 2 -  The 20,000 (is it more?) illegal LEGAL PARKING ticket: Now that you're done fighting with the officer that gave you the 50,000 LBP ticket, confiscated your licence, you have to find a parking spot. All you have to do is park right in front of the shawerma place. Now you have two options. Option A: to obtain item 2, all you have to do is park your car, shut your windows, lock your doors, and enjoy a happy shawerma meal. You will come back to find the item delivered. Option B: to avoid item two park your car, leave your windows open, and your blinkers on otherwise you will be smitten by the long arm of the law.

So ... for me it was item 1, plus 2 sandwiches (4,000 each, too small for just one to be enough!). Do the math. That's one expensive Shawerma place if you ask me! 

Worth every penny, but if you're not willing to pay this much, take the longer road, or don't drive there, and take care while parking! Cheers.

Overheard

Two guys in the gym...

Guy 1, with the heaviest Lebanese Americanized accent- "Yeah yeah man, I studied really well for this exam" so it's like.... akhou ekhta ya3ne!!!!
Guy 2 - "Jnoun"

hahaha gotta love it!

The End of Med II - A Rough Start...

There could not have been a worse start to a summer vacation. Especially this one, supposedly a godsend toward the beginning of the end of the 7-year medical curriculum, a turning point in the way evertyhing is done. No more classes or stupid exams, only hospital clerkships and real healthcare work -if we can call it healthcare in this country, not really,  but I digress... A month's vacation after a year of hell. If I were to find a way to relate to you what this feels like, I'd tell you to imagine being held captive and tortured with electricity, razor blades, and dripping water for a whole year (because that's all that Med II turned out to be), and then instantly and with absolutely no idea of what's going on, being released on a sandy beach on an insanely sunny day, favorite drink in hand, and then somehow having all the relief, the abatement of torture, and the solace one should find in overcoming such an enormous obstacle, somehow wane and wither in your disbelief-stricken face. Somehow, and quicker than I could realize, something got lost, something just didn't feel right, a few things happened that were not supposed to, more than one thing, actually, and that turned the whole experience inside out. I don't feel it anymore, and I feel that all the hype, the expectations, the hope and anticipation that led up to that Friday when it all ended, have all been turned inside out and their bad parts exposed. Much less excitement now, much less expected.

If I have learned one thing from all this, it's that some realizations stop you in your tracks, like when you realize that you have a bad case of the stockholm syndrome, while others seem to get you going, if only for a little while before they atrociously live up to their time-proven tendency to turn back and bite your hand when least expected, so be ready. 

Be ready... It's time I learned that, but this hit me like a truck going 1000 miles an hour.

"Quelque chose de pas très propre" . . .

"Quelque chose de pas très propre" -translation: "something that's not so clean"- said A. with a trembling, worried voice over the phone. It took me a few seconds to realize what on earth she was talking about. And I still had to ask her, I wanted to hear it.  "You know what I'm talking about", she uttered in a shy, now reserved voice. 

So that's what they're calling it now? She caught me off guard, I have to admit. I had heard all kinds of nicknames, from the shiest "haideke" (the other one) to the boldest "el marad" (the disease), but never had I heard about cancer being called "something not so clean". It came as a shock; I have known A. all my life. In fact I grew up under her watchful eyes, ate her wonderful cooking, and she tucked me in countless times, I watched her get sicker and sicker over the last 15 years of my life. Fighting asthma, diabetes, repeated hernias, age that's getting older and older, A. looks weary, as she barely stands, 70 years old, and a mere few steps away from giving up on living in a body so spent. We talked many times of her diseases, and I reassured her as much as I could, listened to her complaints and resignation to a disease-laden life, but I had never heard her talk about that 'unclean bastard' before in my life. An awakening? Fine, call it that. It hit me like a truck, that's all I know. 

Lately A. has been calling me regularly to report what her doctors have been  telling her. She has more faith in her grandson and future doctor, I guess. All the tests she'd been getting done, the results and what they meant. Her recent worry has been a chronic anemia, her hematocrit having dropped to the low 20's. She and her doctors have not been able to treat it effectively despite supplements and diet considerations. This means that there has to be a loss of blood somewhere. Gastro intestinal tract bleeding is a prime suspect in these cases, and the doctors ordered an endoscopy.

-A: "I am scared, R., really scared of the results"

-R. "What results ya A.? what are you talking about? You haven't done anything yet!" 

-A: "That there may be something not so clean in there my boy"

-[...]

-A: "You know what I'm talking about"

A. is on more medications than I could count on 2 hands and 2 feet, I don't even know what conditions they're supposed to treat and control. The first time she talked to me about her intractable anemia, I thought "bleeding ulcer"; all these meds can't be doing her stomache or intestines any good. I have to say I never even thought about cancer. Denial? I don't think so. But may be... No, surely not... 

One Gets to Thinking...

Hey it's been a while! Been a long couple of weeks in the fast lane. That's the worst when you realize that all this time was supposed to be cooling off time... Things are a bit calmer in academic life, ergo you have more time for yourself, your blog, you know, the usual free time stuff... But no, I don't know why, but things have been different lately. I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but time is just flying away, and I've been realizing that more and more acutely lately... And, apparently, it's not because of studies and workloads. I don't like this...
So I've been trying to muster some stuff to blather about on here a couple of times over the past few days... Struggled with a bad case of blogger's block I guess. That is, until I found myself alone in a borrowed apartment, and there's nothing like that to get the ideas flowing...
So it's a cool small flat in Hamra, and it belongs to a very close family friend, C., who is away on vacation. C., knowing how much I struggle with the daily commute, the daily parking hassle/expenses, kindly and generously offered to lend me her place for a few days. Much appreciated. Previously a skeptic, I now know and understand the blessing that it is to have a place close to where one works/studies. You can wake up an hour later than usual and come home an hour earlier. You can come home for lunch, for a midday shower if you feel too sticky in the summer heat, it's just amazing how different and easier everything seems to be.
The first time I walked into C.'s apartment, I loved the colors, the black leather couches, the rugs, and the mixture of European and Middle Eastern influence in the choice of furniture and wall decoration. Look at one wall, you see an artisan mirror with Arabic calligraphy. On another, a beautiful Cézanne. In the living room, beautiful copper ware on a traditional wooden table seems to match perfectly with the modern tiling.
C. is a French immigrant, working in Lebanon as a French teacher in a prominant school. Her culture and background are vividly depicted in her choice of furniture, books, and art. When I asked M., she said it was obvious that whoever lived here was a foreigner. So many Eastern articles just screams it I guess... But C. has found the perfect balance between these and leather couches, modern flooring and colorful curtains and lighting. I love this place. C., Merci Beaucoup de ta générosité :)

So here I am, wasting more of my time, typing away on a soft couch, soft rock playing in the background, as I ponder what tomorrow and the days after that hold. The studies, the family's finances, the lovelife and whatnot, one watered-down glass of whine at a time... I need to live alone again.

Get off the streets....!!! Another plea that no one will hear...

To all you ladies out there that cannot seem to find any time in your busy schedule to apply makeup that is more convenient and safe than while you're driving. To the beauties with freshly issued driver's licenses and brand new cars, and the less blessed and less fortunate Venuses driving your asses off into beautiful sunsets (or walls). Please, I implore you, TAKE A F!@#$%G CAB for the love of God!!!

I know that:
- 100% of feminists among you (women or men, weirdly enough; hey, you never know!)...
- 80-90% of women among you (see the remaining 10-20% below)...
- 1% of all men among you...
... will think I'm a sexist bastard who does not know what he's talking about. Well you would wouldn't you? Yeah...

But I also know that:
-10-20% of women among you...
-99% of all men among you...
... will think this is something everyone knows and that proper action needs to be taken to ensure everyone's (and that includes you ladies) safety.

Why? I don't know why. How come? I don't know how come. I don't know how, why, when, and with what twisted, insane, moronic agenda, nature simply decided that women would not get the driving genes. What matters is that She did. We've seen it all! The ones screaming into cell phones, those (classic) looking into the purposefully-readjusted rear-view mirror, thinking "Oh why is it that when I look into that thing, I see cars behind mine and not my beautiful face??" *tires screeching in background* Well they've dealt with that one!

Check out this video. Watch every second. It's just too funny, and says everything better than I can :D

Today Is Mine, All Mine!

I woke up about a half hour ago. Today is the last day of classes before a our long ‘vacation’; another word for Friday and Monday off, prolonged weekend if you will. Med II is almost over. Most will tell you that it’s all downhill from there. 4 exams left in the countdown, that’s four more weeks of hell and it’s over. We made it. I can feel it, I can smell the clinical years coming! I’m too tired to get up. Yes, way too tired to get up, take my daily morning shower, get in my car, let the engine warm up for 4-6 minutes, drive 20 Km, 15-20 minutes, park in that extravagantly overpriced underground parking lot, get the [first of my two daily] poisonous double espresso[s] from Fadi’s (coming soon), waste 30-45 minutes either with M. when she’s here on time, or in the computer lab, and go to class from 8:00 to 12:00 am, have lunch, and go to class again from 1:00 to about 4:00 pm depending on what day of the week it is. What more can I expect from just another day in college? What else? what, other than the relentless tide of expected events and incidents, usual occurrences and pleasantries, hypocritical moments, complaints, and whining? Not much.

You know what? I’m not going. Screw this. As you can probably see I spent the better half of yesterday snapping pictures in class with utter disregard to our lovely professors and their feelings. There’s no point in going today. I need a break. A long one, we all do. When the end is so close, you just feel like letting go. I want to let go. Today, I’m getting in my car, and taking a different road, because I can, because I want to. I don’t care what happens, or how the day unfolds, it’s all on the table. I’m buying DVDs, seeing an old friend, driving senselessly, I don’t care, today is mine and I’ll do anything with it that I see fit.

Pictures taken: April 15, 2009, 9:03 PM.

Can you tell what I’m writing? That’s it. I’m going for it. It’s done. Going outside to check what’s the weather like…

No. I don’t like the weather… Pretty bad-looking clouds threaten… But it doesn’t matter. It’s all in the mood. M., oh colleague, sorry I ditched you. This reminds me of that day we don’t speak of! :)

Written by Jason Wade and dedicated to lives lost to traffic accidents... Drive Safely

Lyrics

So far away from where you are
These miles have torn us worlds apart
And I miss you
Yeah, I miss you

So far away from where you are
I'm standing underneath the stars
And I wish you were here

I miss the years that were erased
I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face
I miss all the little things
I never thought that they'd mean everything to me

Yeah I miss you
And I wish you were here

I feel the beating of your heart
I see the shadows of your face
Just know that wherever you are
Yeah, I miss you
And I wish you were here

I miss the years that were erased
I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face
I miss all the little things
I never thought that they'd mean everything to me

Yeah, I miss you
And I wish you were here

So far away from where you are
These miles have torn us world's apart
And I miss you
Yeah, I miss you
And I wish you were here

Another Sunday Night, Monday Morning?

Yes... here we go again. And no, I'm not whining this time. Wow! Is it numbness to stress? Learned helplessness to the runaway clock? No, not really. Just feeling indifferent and disinterested this time around I guess. When I stay up late in my room, I feel like I'm getting hints of what's going on outside during the late hours of the night. These samples come in the form of distracting but interesting noises ranging from the rumble of an 18-wheeler driving by Southbound, to the engine screams and tire shrieks courtesy of that maniacal neighbor in his "watwat (Arabic for 'bat')" Beemer (Lebanese Jargon for the late 80's model BMW 3 Series Coupé) driving donuts round the conveniently empty intersection a couple hundred meters from my home, to the essentially worrisome, reassuringly distant, but worryingly nomadic sound of machine gun fire disturbing the peaceful moonlit night (YES, true story!). Did I mention it was past 3:00 am? Quite interesting, really! Most days of the week I'm fast asleep, clenched fists, and completely oblivious to everything that might be going on outside! I should do this more often!
For the curious among you, here's what my desk looks like tonight. Quite the way to spend the better part of the night, huh? I want to be about 20 Km away, drink in hand.

Ok enough with the night-time daydreaming. The noise has subsided. Screw this week's exam I'm going to bed!