sand, and faded blue

batroun

yallah, eat

That Saturday my Tante Leyla drove us up to Batroun. I was seventeen the last time I was in Batroun, and four years had passed since I had seen most of my family. The flood of memories was overwhelming.

Memories of my Tante Aida and her crystal animal collection, the way I howled when she rubbed garlic into an insect bite that had swollen my five-year-old arm stiff. Images of my Tante Eva popping chili peppers into her mouth like candy, and my Amo Skandar grinning beneath a cloud from his hubbly bubbly water pipe. Vivi's drawings, Rani and her oh-so cool roll-on glitter stick that she rubbed on my cheek. Amo Adnan's laugh. Tante Leyla's stories. Tante Hulya playing the piano. Uncle Tony's jokes. Tante Katya, Amo Eduard, Grace and Carole.



Every tante brought a dish for the feast, and my plate was piled high. True to form, the very moment I ate my last bite, an eagle-eyed auntie insisted I have more. I was lead back to the buffet, where more hummus, kibbeh saniye and warak arish were spooned out, and just when I thought I was in the clear, out came the desserts and fruit. I naïvely thought I could get away with nibbling on a few slices of papaya, but then— then came the shou.

"Shooooou Samantha, why no ice cream? You don't like tiramisu? Yallah, eat some Arabic sweets."

Hold tight to your loved ones.
They are all that truly matters in this terribly brief life.

a lebanese weekend

Well my friends, it has come to that time of year again when I pack my bags and fly off to Kathmandu. I am worn out but excited, thinking about that monsoon and all the dearest, smiling faces waiting for me at Shree Mangal Dvip.  It will be magic to see my kids again, to circle the Stupa, to sip my first mango lassi, to look up at the heavy sky.

Things feel quieter here, though unpredictable. Hordes of policemen are lurking around every corner of Taksim, but it has been rather calm. I had mentioned earlier that I took a trip to Lebanon at the beginning of this month— or maybe I didn't, but in any case I have some photos of the trip that I never got to share with you. There were riots to share instead.

We had two deaths in the family in the Spring, and I was unable to make it to Lebanon until June. I hadn't been to visit this side of the family in four years— something I am ashamed of, as Lebanon is only two hours away. But that's how it is, isn't it? You forget that time passes quickly, and that people age. You foolishly believe that everyone will always be there.

So Pedro and I boarded a plane to Beirut.

sketches to beirut

Waiting to board my flight in Istanbul.

Waiting for my ride in Beirut.

Manuela Restaurant
Jounieh, Lebanon

liban

I spent six days in Lebanon last week, ringing in the New Year and visiting family I hadn't seen in twelve years. It was fast and fun, with less time to sketch than I had hoped. Lebanon is a beautiful country with dramatic green hills that gently slope into the Mediterranean, and giant snowy mountains that loom in the distance. It is possible to go skiing in the morning and swimming in the sea in the afternoon, provided of course that the traffic flow is on your side. Traffic can be insane in this little country, roads seldom have lanes and driving seems to be a sort of free-for-all. I loved all the tiny bumpy roads that curve up and down the hills. There was always something to see around the corner.

Like Turkey, Lebanon is a country of contrasts— women in headscarves walk past women in tube tops and miniskirts, modern blocky apartment buildings tower over ancient stone houses. French, English and Arabic is heard and read on the streets— almost every sign is in either one or all three languages. There is so much history in Lebanon with the Phoenicians, the Greeks, the French, Muslims, Christians and of course, the war. Everyone has their own personal story of survival, of trying to live as close to their normal life as possible, with rocket fire outside. When I first visited twelve years ago, there were more bullet ridden buildings by the airport than there are now. New apartment buildings, malls and shops (and of course, the inevitable Starbucks) have taken their place.

I had a wonderful time, there was always something to do and somewhere to go— drinks at a café, driving by the mountains, dancing at a club, shopping and of course, three hour long delicious lunches. There is nothing like a Lebanese mezze. Dish upon dish of cheeses, salads, hummus, moutabal, kibbeh, meat filled pastries, kebabs, fruit and soft warm Lebanese bread. There is so much more to eat and see, I feel like I've scratched the surface of the surface. The next trip will be a longer one, with more time to explore and sketch. And eat.


Beirut.


Taken at Harissa.


In Jounieh.


The Jeita grottos.


Taken in Jbail.

happy 2009!

I am so excited about this year, being that I'm living in a new country and learning new things. I just got back from Beirut on Sunday and have been getting over a cold I came down with that night. New Year's Eve was the best I've had, with lots of food, dancing and noise. There were singers, dancers and musicians that performed all night, and we finished up the event at a sweets shop with some künefe, a delicious sweet cheese dessert. I had never had it in bread, but it was just right.