Beirut is where Michele (pronounced mi-SHEL) lives.

Dear Readers,

I'm sharing a post I wrote about Beirut more than two years ago when I visited this historical city with my friend, Angela.

The people we met were warm and welcoming. Beirut charmed us with its history and its vibrant energy. Bullet holes and stunning murals jostled to show off the walls of a city that Faiz Ahmed Faiz referred to as  "Beirut: the ornament of our world" in his Beirut poem.

Angela and I exchanged messages yesterday to express our sadness at the turn of events. 

I offer this post as a tribute to this jewel of Lebanon which shattered my perceptions and unarmed me of some of my preconceived notions.

Stay safe and well.

Much Love

Arti

xx

Street Art in Gemmayzeh

"What's he doing?"

"Polishing?"

"They look like spikes."

Angela and I are in Beirut. It's our first time in the city. 

We wanted to see each other. The current blockade makes it extremely difficult to visit each other as she lives in Dubai and I reside in Doha. We were looking for nearby destinations. The flights to Beirut looked good to travel on staff rebate. 

So here we are, a day after Valentine's, exploring a city both of us have read about in books and in recent news.  

We see an old man hunched over a low work bench. He's sitting in a deep chair with armrests with his back to the street, his hands are busy polishing what look like brass spikes.

We carry on walking.

"What do you think he's making?" asks Angela.

"No idea." I confess. "Perhaps he's cleaning them."

Our thoughts linger on the hunched over old man in his grayish bluish coat, peering through his glasses, steadily polishing golden rods (about 6-8 inches long) without looking up, for a few minutes before our eyes spot something interesting-- an achingly old building with a fading facade that hides tales of eras past. 

A few hours later, tired but excited about being in Beirut, we decide to head back. Without intention or design, we find ourselves on the same road, in Gemmayzeh. The old man's hands are still busy. This time I spot a table laden with jewellery pieces. I am almost tempted. It's getting late and there's always tomorrow. We hail a taxi and leave.

Next morning, we decide to start our exploration from the other end of Beirut (Hamra). The map, which till yesterday had looked like a puzzle, behaves like a friendly guide.  A longish coffee stop and lots of walking later, we find ourselves looking at the old man's table full of  jewellery in Gemmayzeh. It's late afternoon and lunch is on our minds.

"These look good." I declare.

In the freshness of a new day and the familiarity of day two in a new city, the area around the table covered in red cloth reveals more of itself. The table is set out on the front pavement of an old Antique Shop. There is a bright light trying to peep through the cloudy glass of the half open doors. The old man is wearing a brassy ring on his left thumb and using a tool with his right when he looks up and smiles.

"Do you make these?" I ask.

"Yes." His voice is clear and warm, like a glass of fresh milk: soothing and full of life. "I make these."

He walks the short distance from the far corner where his low work bench sits, laden with tools and a twisted brassy sheet, over to us and slides the ring off his thumb.

"It says 'my light' (or did he say 'my love'--I'm not 100 % sure) in Arabic." He says in perfect English and holds the ring up so we can see the light enter the calligraphic carvings on the ring.

"You did this?" Angela and I ask him in unison.

"Yes. You can come and make with me if you want." he offers.

I'm not sure I've heard him correctly. Maybe he doesn't mean that. Maybe he wants to say he'll make one for us just like this one.

I'm doubtful. Surely, he's not going to spend his time teaching us! Surely, he's expecting us to buy something. Odd, how easily cynicism overtakes trust. Why are we programmed to veer towards mistrust as our first instinct?  Is it evolution (survival of the fittest) or just the way the world has come to be?

"What's your name?" we ask.

"Michele." He smiles and disarms my canons of cynicism with his grin.  "And I'm ninety years old." He beams. 

"No!" we almost shriek like teenagers. "Ninety?"

His eyes twinkle a little more brightly. I ask if I can click his picture. Michele obliges like a true gentleman and even poses.

"What's yours?"

"Angela."

"Like the angel." He says and takes Angela's hand while I continue to take  pictures. Angela melts in front of me.

Michele looks up and I give him my name.

He squints quizzically at me.

"Like Art with an I...Arti." I offer an explanation.

He nods and smiles and when he finds out that Angela is from England, he mentions Teresa May.

"This world needs more women leaders...no really. Women are smart."

Who would've thought we'd run into a ninety year old male feminist on the streets of Beirut!

"I was watching a programme on TV about ancient Indian architecture recently, it's so good...so good." adds Michele exuberantly when I mention to him that I'm of Indian stock.

"Yes, India is full of amazing art and architecture." I add and nod. 

It feels part surreal and  part normal to bump into Michele. Human connections such as these is the reason why I love travelling. No monument or museum can live up to simply connecting with another soul. Unless, of course, I'm walking alone in the hills, then I'm happy to be all by myself.

My conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, is that Michele is the most interesting man I've met on my travels in a while. We could've talked the afternoon away, if we wanted to. 

"What were you making yesterday?" Asks Angela. "those spike like things..."

"Come inside the shop, I'll show you..." says Michele and wanders towards the glass door. 

Loud music is blasting  from a corner of the shop. There is stuff everywhere. 

"I haven't had the time to clear up..." he offers an apology and sounds like I do when friends drop in and my house hasn't been dusted! "This is what I made with the spikes..." he points to the light and stands next to it with such a big grin that he looks like a six year old who's just got a 10/10 in his math quiz--absolutely delighted with his work.

"You made this?" We sound like we don't really believe him.

"Yes, and I'm making these to send to my son in Canada. He will use them to make another light like this one." Michele points out the spikes we'd seen him with the previous evening.

If I ever reach ninety, please God, let me be like Michele--working with my hands, open to strangers, warm and kind and curious like a two year old.

I spot a pair of swirly earrings on the table when we step out of his shop. I consider getting them for a friend but decide to wait till I explore a bit more and perhaps come back the next day.

"We should buy a cake for him and go see him again." suggests Angela as we polish off our vegan lunch at the Sursock museum cafe a couple of hours later. 

We couldn't stop talking about Michele after we bid him goodbye: while eating lunch we wondered about him, throughout that evening we discussed his kind eyes and warm smile and even later that night we pondered aloud to each other:

Imagine the stories he'd have to tell. 

What all must he have seen in his life.

He must've put the music that loud so he could hear it outside.

How amazing for us to come across someone like him...

 and on and on.

The one regret I have is that we decided to postpone our cake with Michele idea to the next day. 

Rain and wind and grey skies welcomed us the next morning. We went to the shop. It was shut. It was our last day in Beirut. Our flights were scheduled to take off that evening.

Sometimes, cakes should be bought and shared as soon as the idea enters our hearts--for one never knows if there will be another tomorrow.

I don't have Michele's number or address. But if anyone in Beirut is reading this and knows him, please give him our love and heartfelt thanks for infusing our weekend trip with his generous smile.

Facades cover buildings, like faces cover souls--what is that old saying again? Never judge a book by its cover.

Better still, never judge.

There were many such kind and helpful humans in Beirut who we encountered in restaurants, shops and even at the farmers market selling their delicious vegan wares. If you're thinking of going to Beirut, I'd say, if you can, then just go. 

Leaving you with a few eclectic shots of facades that caught my eye on the day after Valentine's in the city of Beirut.

 This reminder of 'James and the Giant Peach' (as Angela pointed out) is an old movie theater.

The oft-photographed colourful steps on Armenia Street of Beirut

May this beautiful city and its people find the strength to deal with their losses. 

May their hearts heal and may their smiles return soon.

G is for Gibran

It's my second day in Budapest. After yesterday's harshness, hope today's post will soothe you.

How I came about Khalil (or Kahlil) Gibran's poetry, I cannot recall. That his words bring me solace when I need it, is true.

'The Prophet' is the kind of book you can dip into, open a page, read it and realize that it's what you needed to read that day, that moment -- to make sense of what's going on around you or just to reconfirm what the little voice inside you was saying all along but you were too busy with the business of living to stop and listen to it.

Today, I'm sharing some of my favourite lines from this book. These words have been my guardian angels, I hope they'll bring you the answers you seek today. All the quotes that follow come from this book.

About marriage, he says...

"Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

....

And stand together yet not too near together.

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

"Speak to us of Children. 
And he said:

...And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you."

The librarian of this Universe knows what I need to read and when because books like The Prophet appear on my horizon, as if by magic, just when I'm seeking the answers. Thank you Librarian.

While flipping through the pages of this book to find quotes for this post, I come across words that seem new, or maybe I'm reading them after a very long time. I've been 'preaching' my family and friends (a lot lately) about healthy eating, exercise, yoga and all those things that I find helpful. The message is clear. I need to calm down:)

"Speak to us of Good and Evil.

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

You are not evil when you go thither limping.

Even those who limp go not backwards.

.....

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.

In your longing for your giant self lies your

goodness: and that longing is in all of you.

....

But let not him who longs much say to him who

longs little, 'Wherefore are you slow and halting?"

For the truly good ask not the naked, 'Where is your garment?' nor the houseless, 'What has befallen your house?'

These lines are such a timely reminder. I've been riding on my high horse of yoga and fresh fruit for a tediously long while now.

I stop myself short of gossiping about other people but scratch my surface and you will find a long snaking train of opinions running on tracks of judgment I laid down years ago. The train may have got upgraded and doesn't rattle that loudly these days, so you don't hear the gossiping that goes on inside.

Ivy League, really? Why only Ivy League? That's a bit tight on her, right? Are designer bags all they can talk about? She can do without that second helping of chips. How can they spend so much on a wedding and so little for charity? Oh! You don't want to be standing on this platform--I can tell you that.

Being mindful of my actions and reactions is my new goal but I'm a work in progress. Books like The Prophet and wise men and women like Gibran are my crutches and coaches while I hobble along.

Doha Film Institute is responsible for a stunning animated film based on this book and Salma Hayek is responsible for bringing the film to fruition. If you love art and animation, you will LOVE this film. It got mixed reviews from the critics. Who cares. I was mesmerized.

Here's the official trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwQbMxDcRGE

enjoy...

A weekend in Muscat- (Part 2) A chance meeting with Donkey from Shrek at Al-Twairaah Wadi.

Our next stop (after Nakhal Fort ) was Al- Tawairaah Wadi. Before I continue, I must mention that the photo credit for some of the photos in this post goes to Danielle and Ruchita (my friends with cameras.)

The gurgling water looked extremely enticing as we stepped out of the cool air-conditioned car into the hot mid-day sun.

I had to step in. BE WARNED- the pebbles are extremely slippery, but the cool water was delicious. There were fish, too. I couldn't get a good shot but a few came over to nibble at my feet:)

We continued our hopping-walking- hobbling- avoiding slippery pebbles- finding dry rocks waddle through this clear stream. Luckily, there weren't too many people there - just a few families dotted around. 

This bunch of children eating mangoes (cooled in the stream) took me back to my childhood picnics in Sahastradhara(Sulphur Springs), Dehradun.

The peaceful afternoon had a soft beat to it- a group of local lads created impromptu melodies with their drums.

Further down the stream was the hot spring. This a rectangular pool filled with 'men' and 'boys', but the water overflows and cascades down back into the stream.

On the river bank

We found a nice spot under a tree where we sat down. These lads were sitting across from us. 

A house by the river bank

And that's where I spotted Donkey!

Isn't he gorgeous?

We had a great time relaxing in this stream while we waited for our driver to finish his Friday prayers. In fact, we ended up playing Antakshari (a singing game based on Indian film songs) with a few contributions from Danielle, too.

I would recommend that you go there earlier in the day (especially on weekends) before the place starts getting crowded. As we were making our way back to the car, the crowds had started pouring in. And pack a picnic- nothing like eating in the outdoors.

A weekend in Muscat- Nakhal Fort

A hastily planned trip to visit a dear friend last month took us (my girlfriends and I) to Muscat, Oman.

One of the first things we explored on a hot and sunny Friday morning was the Nakhal (Arabic for palm tree) Fort. I didn't carry a camera, but used my phone to take pictures.

My phone and I found little treasures all over the fort. But first, few facts about the fort:-

The sign outside this room reads 'date store'.

The metal detail on a chest.

The ceiling in another room

The room with a view

This was my favourite room in the fort. 'Wali' (according to an Omani visitor) means Chief or Governor.

This is the view as you enter the room.

Wali's bed

I love the vibrant colours of the cloth on the canopy.

'Sandook' aka trunk.

A selfi(sh) attempt

A fellow tourist/photographer kindly let me take this picture of his while he rested in the shade

On my way to the top

The view from the top

Ready to leave... the last door

I would have loved to spend more time here. This fort has a very 'wise old man' feel to it- a place where you can sit for hours and feel at peace. I have been here twice now, the last time was with the family almost five years ago. Even then, I remember, the children enjoyed walking through the fort discovering its treasures.

Even though the rooms have been embellished with 'modern' fabrics, cushions and china, the fort retains its old world charm. The stunning location and the labyrinthine structure can keep you absorbed for hours.

For better quality pictures of the fort and for beautifully presented details about Oman, visit http://catbirdinoman.wordpress.com/. I stumbled upon this blog recently. If you wish to visit Oman, this blog is a good place to find out what you should see.

Next stop-  Al Twairah wadi