How To Surprise A Zombie - Part I

I've had just enough time to...   be surprised not once but thrice

Taken of the new products that are launched on a very special day :)

June 11 2013, I have just returned from US the day before after 30 hours of plane rides and waiting in airports. I then had the longest sleep I had in years lying flat in bed for almost 12 hours. But I was not fully charged. Two weeks of traveling through multiple time zones have taken a toll on this old body. I knew I had to leave the office early and planned to leave sharp at 5.45 pm. At least that was the plan.

At 4.00 pm, a call came in that involved the future of a colleague and a long discussion ensued. I divided my time between two factories. At 4.22 pm, I received a call from the bakery requesting my presence. They said it was not urgent so I planned to go over before 5.00 pm. At 4.45 pm on the way down, I dropped over and have a ‘few words’ with a colleague that lasted an hour and a half.

In the bakery, the factory manager surprisingly ushered me upstairs instead of having the discussion in his room. By that time, I was feeling groggy, running on auto and reserves, and wishing there was a bed somewhere I could lay down to drift into blissful oblivion. In the meeting room, I was surprised to see all the Heads of Departments waiting for me. I was embarrassed that I’ve unwittingly kept them waiting for so long and apologized profusely. They seemed strangely cheerful in spite.

They showed me the new company products that they said will be launched tomorrow. I’m quite absent minded but they laughed that I will never have to ask any of them the launch date for these products because it was on my birthday! I was touched by the gesture. Before I could settle down and digest the feeling, a few of them that left the room earlier came in with a cake and a single lighted candle and the whole crowd burst into the birthday song. I good naturally protested that it was unfair to do it a day earlier to catch me by surprise but I was of course naturally pleased that they went through the trouble to surprise me. I was a zombie that day but they light a fire under the zombie to wake him up. That was just the first surprise…

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.