Part 2 – The Man From Syria

I've had just enough time to...   meet the man from Syria.

The strong arms of the bakery proprietress that invited me in

In the last post, I mentioned stopping by a bakery on my long walk on my last day in Beirut. The proprietress noticed me lingering outside and warmly waved me in to take pictures in her bakery. We cannot understand a single word the other was saying but signs and smiles can go a long way.

The friendly workers of the bakery staring at me, the stranger :)

The bakery is producing a Lebanese flat bread called Manakeesh. A fermented dough that was divided, rounded and then flattened to a large round shape. A herb mixture (usually thyme and other herbs) called Zaatar are then spread on top with olive oil, and with or without cheese. Minced meat can also be used as toppings. It is an inexpensive and very delicious bread especially piping hot from the oven.

The delicious Manakeesh bread that I took a bite of and those not folded on the table.

 I was encouraged to shoot whatever I wanted. Then they offered me a choice of cold Pepsi or thick, concentrated, black Lebanese coffee strong enough to wake up the dead. I took the coffee and understand why it is served in “demitasse” or small cup. I think it felt like I received a direct injection of caffeine. But it went along very nicely with the hot Manakeesh folded in half. The aromatic cheese and thyme added an interesting and flavorful taste profile to the hot bread.

What would you choose? Cold Pepsi or Hot Lebanese Coffee?

I sat inside the small kitchen of the bakery looking at the baker doing his stuff. Whenever he finished a batch, he would come over and sat opposite me and we tried conversing. But it was useless. We tried all the languages under our disposal. I can speak three and I’m quite sure he spoke more than one but none fit so we looked at each other and smiled and tried to communicate with our hearts. Making eye contacts with a stranger of your same sex can be a little awkward but we form a rapport or at least a bond by just sharing the same space and time. I wanted to ask him about the tattoo of the snake on his arm and I really wished I could understand his reply. The only intelligible word I could make out was “Syria” when he pointed to himself.  I gave him an apple from the hotel and a banknote from my country to remember me by. 

The man from Syria!

The proprietress would not accept any payment from me and I too gave her a Malaysian banknote as a souvenir. I have so many words of thanks that I wanted to express but my words could not convey the meanings to them. So I hoped that my expressions, my smiles and my limbs were able to do what my words could not. It is unlikely I will ever go back to Beirut. It is unlikely I will ever meet them again. But I will never forget their kindness to a stranger and made it a day for him to remember.

The snake tattoo on his arm. Wish I know its significance to him.

Part 1 – The Friendliest City In The World – War Torn Beirut?

I've had just enough time to...   take a walk down busy Beirut.

The broken down bench in Beirut where I ate my lunch.

If I were to ask you, your personal experience of the friendliest city in the world; each of you may give me a different reply. Some answers may seem obvious as top contenders. Some you may be mildly surprised at, others you may disagree as you may have a bad experience there. But would you have expected someone to say present day Beirut? Of all the cities I have visited from US to Europe to Asia, in my personal experience Beirut top the list. It is all based on a single day, alone with nothing to do; to pre-empt you from arguing against my choice. :D

The delicious Hawa chicken and pickled vegetable that was my lunch.

It was a Friday. I had a late afternoon flight and I’m not going to sit in my room reading a book or to watch TV until it is time to go. Immediately after breakfast, I put on the day’s essentials in my backpack and went for a long walk. Nowhere in particular, just to walk the street as far as I could go and back in time for my flight. Along the way, to my delight I came across a small nondescript Lebanese bakery.

I stood outside and snapped a few shots when the matronly proprietress with a smile as wide as her arms agitatedly waved me inside to do my shooting. That is in “Part 2 – The Man From Syria”. Would not blame you if you think my impression of Beirut’s hospitality is from that pleasant feeling as warm as the oven’s fire. But that was not all. After the coffee as thick and black as night, and succulent oven fresh bread with the aroma of cheese and thyme, I continued my walk as far as I could go before I think I should double back.

The warm receptions from the drivers on the road.

I bought a box of their local fast food – Hawa Fried Chicken that is served together with thick potato slices, cheese dips and pickled vegetable with sign language and walked back to the hotel on the other side of the road. I came across a broken metal bench under the shade of a giant tree and thought that would be a good place to rest my weary feet and eat my chicken. There I was, a Chinese gentleman sitting cross-legs on a broken bench without support, happily biting into the drumstick looking at the snared traffic, taking in the novelty of the situation. 

They were joking with me in a language I could not understand.

But I did not expect the reactions. A car honk jolted me; the driver shouted in a strange language I could not understand. But I understood the smile and the wave and I waved back. I thought that must be an isolated incident. But then at almost regular intervals, drivers noticed me and some of them greeted me loudly with smiles or waves or thumb ups. Some took the trouble to wind down the window. A father and son in a truck offered me a lift. Some was joking with me though they know I could not understand a single word they said and played hide and seek with my camera.  In nowhere in the world had I ever triggered anything as remotely close as this type of reaction. I did not do much that morning in Beirut but it was one of the most memorable days of my life.

And offered to take me along with them...

When I returned to the hotel, I looked at all those things I’ve bought or brought along with me which I did not want to bring back home. When the cleaning lady came, I gave them all to her. I hate throwing things away and was happy to have less to carry. There was a ring on the door. The cleaning lady came and gave me something of her own. I protested but she tried to tell me it is nothing and I will make her happy to accept it. And she gave me a hug. And we took a photo off the reflection from the mirror. I don’t know about your experiences, but for me, no other city even come close to Beirut as the friendliest city I ever encountered.

Have You Ever Heard Of A Snail Having A Heart Attack?

I've had just enough time to...   have a slow conversation with a snail

Early morning shooting of a snail in action in Ampang, Malaysia

To understand a snail, go slow

Speed is not the way to do it

You may use it on the rabbit

Or the road runner

But it did the fox no good

So slow may be the answer

For speed too.

If you do not have the patience

Don’t count the stars

Just try to follow the comet

And see where that gets you

Einstein may have ridden its tail

But he did it slowly, slowing down

Time to travel the speed of light

 The virtue of a snail is its lack of speed

The only reason to do it fast

Is to get out of danger

But we have already  

Been wired for that

And the white coats tells you

Slowing down your heart

Lengthens your life

And the swami tells you

Slowing down your pace

Preserve your balance

And your mum tells you

Eating slowly

Improves your digestion

And mums are never wrong

We won’t argue with that.

And have you ever heard

Of a snail having a heart attack?

Go Faster at Red!

I've has just enough time to...   stop at red. 

Taken at the traffic light of a wet bird (or two?) on the way to work.

There comes a time we have to stop at red

But did we notice the change of light?

Do we accelerate at the danger sign

To salvage time for time wasted

For a little extra time we do not need

“Living Life in the fast lane

Involves breaking a few rules

They are small prices to pay

For the speed we need to make -

Through the landscape”

“What is the point of a journey

If not to a destination?

No time to smell the flowers

They are still there tomorrow -               

We have to get there today”

“Haven’t you heard time is money

It waits for no man

And once spent is gone forever

So what we need to do is faster -

Before time runs out”

 “So we will not stop at red 1”

So says the speed devil

Just before

A red light too many!

_______

At a red light in the sunshine

On a Sunday

Nothin' to say

Don't even try

Some are comin' home

Some are leavin' town

While my world's crashin' down

On a Sunday

In the sunshine

At a red light

David Nail – “Red Light”

Plastic Bags Have Their Say

I've had just enough time to...   witness the life cycle of the plastic bags

Taken on morning on the way to work

Three packets of plastic drinks with straws sticking out

Standing proudly basked by the morning light

Held up by half-consumed content

Near a monsoon drain cover

Where they were discarded

From a vehicle

Days before

It speaks a lot about the person who did that

It speaks a lot about the culture of that society

It speaks a lot about the management of the city

It speaks a lot about the problem of the country

It speaks a lot about the state of the planet

All in deafening silence

_______

The Majestic Plastic Bag - A Mockumentary

Memories Are Not Written On Hard Disks

I've had just enough time to...   write more memories

Taken of two sisters taking pictures of their family on a memorable occasion

We capture moments to remember

Capture them to share

Capture them to store away

To recall another day

We use more and more devices

To capture moments aplenty but forget

Memories are not written on hard disks

Memories are written in our hearts

 _______

Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters

You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)

Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters

Yeah, night and day, night and day.

Whatever’s written in your heart - Gerry Rafferty

How Do I Get Out Of The Maze?

I've had just enough time to...   get out to get out of the maze.

Taken in the courtyard of Shangril-la Hotel, Kuala Lumpur

My life is a maze

And I can’t figure it out

I don’t know which step

Is in and which is out

Deep in the maze

Should I stuck it out

Or retreat to start

What if that had been shut out?

What if I am going in circle with no way out?

Am I in a maze?

How do I get out?

_______

Ferris wheels and bumper cars are fun

But those rides just aren't for everyone

Bought my ticket I'ma have a run

In the maze (WHOOOO!)

If I don't come back or right away

Give me time at least a half a day

Don't just leave me lost and blown away

In the maze (WHOOOO!)

Welcome to the Dark Carnival's amazing maze

Over 5000 ways to get in, and no way out

"The Amazing Maze - Insane Clown Posse"

Dare you go into the Amazing Maze and listen?

Beware! Explicit language and explicit images. Be Warned!

I Fell In Love With The Guitar Man

I've had just enough time to...   fell in love with the guitar man.

Taken in a hotel in Johore Bahru advertising the presence of the guitar man

I fell in love with the guitar man

Or is it his music?

I cannot tell which when he is playing.

The guitar man has me at his finger tips.

How can I love a man so much –

When he is playing?

And love him so little

When he stops?

Please don’t let the music stop

Please don’t let the music stop

Don’t let it stop…

_______

Who draws the crowd and plays so loud,

Baby it's the guitar man.

Who's gonna steal the show, you know

Baby it's the guitar man,

He can make you love, he can make you cry

He will bring you down, then he'll get you high

Somethin' keeps him goin', miles and miles a day

To find another place to play.

Bread

The Song of the Lonely Drinker

I've had just enough time to...   drink alone

Taken while sitting outside a pub in Kuching with the moon and others for company

I’m a lonely drinker

Making toasts to myself

And the ghost across the table

The ghost nods with its glass

Empty it in silent acknowledgement

And no advice for me

Nor do I have need of any, for

In the company of sympathetic ghosts

Who needs noise and companions?

Drinking is best done alone

Drinking is best done alone

In one’s own company

Loneliness flavored the wine unlike any

It is silly to drink to be happy

Silly to try to drown anything

The only reason to drink is to make -

Loneliness a pleasant company

The Silver Threads of Fate

I've had just enough time to...   feel the trembling of the string of fate

Taken in an industrial loom in Yangon, Myanmar

The silver threads of fate spins

In the loom of the blind sisters

Trembling under their fingers

And another hero falls

Blind eyes shed no tears

See no sorrow

Feel no fear

The quivering threads sing

Exciting the tender hearts

With its seductive rhyme

And another maiden falls

Blind eyes reveal no love

See no blushes

Feel no pain

The blind sisters chuckle

Picks another thread, breaks it

With a snap and attaches it again

But no silver thread

Can mend the

Severed string

Of a heart shattered

________

Darling, I am growing old,

Silver threads among the gold

Shine upon my brow today;

Life is fading fast away;

But, my darling, you will be, will be,

Always young and fair to me,

Yes, my darling, you will be,

Always young and fair to me.

Two Views of the Field of Gold

I've had just enough time to...   view the field of gold.

Taken in Sekinchan, Malaysia of the farmer surveying his field of gold

The farmer surveys his field of gold

That stretches to the blue sky above

And he sees a year’s toil

I stood there at the crack of dawn

To see the sun shedding its shine

And I see her hair of gold

The farmer smile

I too smile

At the prospect of a satisfying harvest

That the approaching night

Will soon cover that field of gold…

Can Planting Concrete Be More Fun?

I've had just enough time to...   see more concrete being planted.

Taken in Cilegon, Indonesia 2 hours from Jakarta 4 months later of the same place as picture below.

On 3 January 2012, I put up a post with the title “Planting Rice Is Never Fun” where I explored the theme of poverty and progress. Is progress a necessary evil? It is not an easy question and the answer depends very much on which side you are from and in. For those who love the beauty of the idyllic farm scene as much as me, we often see the ugly side of progress even as we admit to its necessity at times. But why can’t progress be prettier, to encompass instead of just destroying nature?

This was the image of the field in November 2011.

This is how it looked liked in March 2012.

It is easy to, but I have no right to question whether this is right or wrong for one with no stake in it. I can only lament that the beautiful field of swaying gold is no more. Replace by these piles of concrete jutting out from the barren ground. When the wind blows, I will no longer hear its whispers through the heavy leaden grains but the deep sighs as it swims round stiff concrete.

The Inspiration of Taiping Lake Garden - Part I

I've had just enough time to...   revisit Taiping Lake Garden

The beauty and serenity of Taiping Lake Garden and its town has inspired many of my posts. After the last post regarding the controversy surrounding the rain trees of the garden, I decided to revisit them and invite you to visit them together with me. (Click on the link to access any of the post)

“First Taste is Like First Love” 

The town is reputed to have the best “popiah” in the country. But it taste different from my distant memory so I compare it against first love.

“Loneliness Is an Empty Chair”

There is something very sad about empty benches and these row of empty benches under the ancient rain trees seemed so melancholy to me.

“Patriotism Is Not…”

 The political scene in the country is depressing with politicians trying to determine for us what patriotism is. I wanted to tell them what patriotism is not! The photo is taken in the museum near the lake.

“There is Nothing Like Walking among the Dead”

As much as the area surrounding the lake is beautiful, there are also quiet places that you can visit for reflection like the war cemetery. Don’t think me odd until you have taken a walk with the dead.

“Will A Name Live Forever?”

As I read the names and inscriptions on the tombstones, I wonder how long will a name live?  If it is carved in stone, will it live forever?

“If Life Is A Crooked Bridge”

I came across a crooked bridge in the garden and was confronted with this question “If Life is a crooked bridge, can you walk straight?”

What Is This Creature “Sir Tyre?” 

Upset by the political scene, I was inspired to write a satire. If you are Malaysian, you should be able to understand at least some of the allusion. I was looking for an image to go along with it when I thought this in front of the Taiping museum appropriate.

Saving The Rain Trees of Taiping

I've had just enough time to...   see the rain trees saved

Taken of the Taiping Lake Garden, the most beautiful park in Malaysia

The rain trees lined the serene shore

Dipping its branches into the forbidden lake

Rippling the surface stirred by wayward winds

Sending a gentle cascade of dropping leaves

On wet grasses and empty benches

Providing solace to aching hearts and aching feet

Slowing down time to a slow crawl

Witnessed by the distant hills and century trees

Through the veils of morning mists and driving rain

A scene that soothes the heart with a gift of memory

That may not last as long as the trees

Only just as long as we live…

And they want to set up kiosks in this sacred land

To sell snacks and souvenirs!

Why Clean When It Will Be Dirty Again?

I've had just enough time to...   clean and clean again.

Taken of the boatman washing his boat in Kuala Selangor, Malaysia

Why clean when it will be dirty again?

It is a question the boatman does not comprehend

He cleans it because it is dirty

Not whether it will be dirty again

He does not think of the effort of cleaning

Just that the boat should be clean

And he will clean it as many times as it takes

The one asking the question

Thinks it wasted effort

And suffers the pain of cleaning

When the one cleaning does not