Point Reyes, West Marin Commons and the Smart Meter Battle

The more I learn about urban planning, the more I realize that the small town that I come from is as close to a utopia as it gets. For so long the insulated community and slow pace of life repelled me, and during Christmas breaks two weeks in Point Reyes was nearly more than I could bear. But at the simplest level, the people of Point Reyes have claimed their rights to dictate what happens to the land, buildings, and environment that surround them. They have said no to the corporatization of their town, and have resisted the encroachment of the state government and its privatized service providers. Only from Beirut, while studying urban planning and policy and hearing stories of utopia’s never realized, have I been able to realize how incredible my hometown is.

Point Reyes is a quaint town 50 miles north of San Francisco, nestled between rolling hills and a sharp majestic ridge at the base of Tomales Bay. Populated by the odd bedfellows of ranchers, artisans, migrant hippies and Mexican immigrants, Point Reyes is regionally known for its liberal, independent bent. With no town government structure, Point Reyes’ official voice comes in the form of a district supervisor. So who plans Point Reyes? Who responds to the needs of the community?

Well, the citizens, of course. Since my childhood, Point Reyes has been full of active, vocal, community-oriented citizens that outright reject the notion of corporations infiltrating their town and are willing to attend county meetings to make sure their voices are heard. Point Reyes, along with other county communities, is currently fighting the instillation of “Smart Meters” by Pacific Gas & Electric. These meters constantly emit short bursts of electromagnetic transmission, and have not been fully studied for potential health risks.

Shortly before coming to Beirut, I went home and saw “No Smart Meter” signs wrapped around every old-fashioned meter in my neighborhood. I saw signs downtown, articles in the local newspaper, and a website devoted to preventing the installation of these meters. Having come from Washington DC where the installation of such meters would likely go unnoticed, my first thought was, “Don’t these people have something more pressing to worry about?”

My Mother- originally from Indianapolis and tends not to be interested in politics, community activism or anything else that requires contact with other humans- had been attending the meetings where the leaders of the “No Smart Meter” movement have explained their concerns to the community. She said she wasn’t concerned when she first heard about it, but word of mouth and the meetings had convinced her she didn’t want a Smart Meter in our home, and she was able to coherently explain to me why. I was immediately suspicious, and knew I had to find out more about these people who had against all odds inspired my Mother to wrap a “No Smart Meter” sign around the box in our front yard. What exactly was afoot in Point Reyes?

Out of curiosity, I recently joined an online community forum started by a group called West Marin Commons. I wanted to know how vibrant this apparent community of activists that I have seemingly dismissed really was. It turns out that this West Marin Commons is creating a new community dialogue- one where the community comes first, and the people’s voices are able to create the imagined future of the town. Over the past few years, this community spirit has manifested itself in many ways: from the creation of public spaces such as a walking trail and a community garden to hosting community harvest dinners and organizing shared transportation and the money-free exchange of goods.

The community spirit that had inspired my Mother to take a personal stand against Smart Meters and the work of West Marin Commons, which brings together young and old to plant and plan, simply amazes me. I have noticed an uncharacteristic pessimism in my response to urban planning theory- perhaps produced by my last three years working for an unwieldy and unresponsive government organization. Suddenly, discovering that my hometown is making the romantic planning processes that I initially dismissed actually work has me trying to re-evaluate.

What about Point Reyes makes participatory planning and community driven initiatives work? For one, there is little anonymity in Point Reyes. Somehow, most people know one another. There is a strong sense of what the community doesn’t want. Along with that lack of anonymity comes the opportunity to build a real community. Second, Point Reyes doesn’t really have the “luxury” to sit back and let the mechanisms of governance work. While I have come to believe that the impositions of government top down planning often do more harm than good, it is interesting to think that a place like Point Reyes has never been planned by a planning commission, per say. Certainly the county has tried to come in and add a stop sign here, or re-pave a road there, but it seems as though there is a lot of latitude for the production of space at the local, grass roots level.

Even at such a small scale, it is fascinating that groups such as West Marin Commons have decided to not only to work on public spaces and community projects, but also to create local dialogue about the foundational issues of production by encouraging local exchange and barter systems and keeping monetary wealth in the community by buying local. The fact that the neoliberal epidemic of privatization has not reshaped Point Reyes makes me wonder either how we avoided it or why it never came for us.

Is the answer to this question one of scale? Is it affected by the fact that most of the wealthy businesses in Point Reyes do not own the land that they produce on because it is part of an agricultural land trust? Or is it Point Reyes’ natural aversion to anything mainstream? I have always felt a bit uncomfortable with Point Reyes’ “anti-establishment” vibe, but it is starting to grow on me. Knowing that my town defies the odds by planning for itself actually impresses me.

These days it seems the meager political representation Point Reyes has is unwilling or unable to stop the installation of Smart Meters against the will of the people. However, the people have not given up. A recent post on the community forum warned residents of a Smart Meter truck sighting. Over the course of a few hours, new posts popped up, updating the status and location of the truck, calling on kindred spirits to go and confront the installer. The sense of community that has been created in Point Reyes gives latitude to divergent opinions while respecting common values and elevates the rights of its citizens to choose what is imposed upon them by the outside world. I’m rooting against the evil meter matrons from afar, hoping they have to encounter my Mother’s wrath and hear her community-developed articulation of why the Smart Meter isn’t for her or our town.

Ginger Lemon Chicken Soup

My favorite soup when I’m sick...the garlic, lemon and ginger in this soup really hit the spot!

1 small chicken, cut up into manageable pieces

2 whole carrots, peeled

1 onion, skin removed, cut in half

1 head garlic, peeled and smushed

Lots of ginger (I added two 6 inch long pieces, peeled and grated into the stock)

4 hot thai peppers (or any pepper that suits you)

2 lemons worth of juice

Peppercorns

Salt to taste

12 cups water

½ cup of rice, vermicelli or little star pasta (optional)

Cilantro

I know some people throw the onions, carrots and garlic in unpeeled, but I find that taking a few minutes to peel them creates much less foam and much less skimming work for me!

To make my stock nice and hearty, I brown the chicken pieces in a splash of olive oil in the bottom of the stock pot. Once they are nice and golden, throw in the carrots, halved onion, garlic, peppers, a sprinkle of peppercorns and grate the ginger over the top. Then, pour in the water, bring to a boil, and reduce to low, uncovered. The longer you cook the stock the better- but I find that after 2 ½ hours, especially if you brown the chicken first, the stock is of satisfactory taste.

Strain the stock and return to the stock pot. Let the chicken cool until you can handle it. At this point you can throw the stock in the fridge over night and skim the fat off the top, or you can just move ahead with a rich stock! When the chicken is cool enough to touch, pull the meat off the bone and throw it in the pot. Once all the chicken is returned to the stock, over a medium flame, add the rice/vermicelli/pasta if you wish and cook till soft- usually only a few minutes. Add the lemon juice and salt to taste! At this point I usually grate more ginger into the final soup, but you will have to see how you feel about the ginger-lemon combo! A little cilantro garnish is a nice touch too…

More brigadeiros...

Mexican Mocha- instant espresso granules and cinnamon rolled in cocoa
White Rose- rose water and lemon juice rolled in crushed pistachio
Black on Black- chocolate rolled in dark chocolate flakes

Brigadeiros, Lebanese Style

So, my food soulmate Ari (who I recently reconnected with on Facebook) was telling me about her obsession with brigadeiros, a Brazilian take on truffles. After 2 minutes of conversation, I was gathering my purse and keys and heading to the corner store to gather the ingredients for this incredibly simple but delisious treat. Traditionally, they are just made with coco, sweetened condensed milk and butter. Ari mentioned she has tried all sorts of combos, and we decided that brigadeiros with a hint of rose water rolled in pistacios would be worth a shot.

I made a batch of regular brigadeiros rolled in chocolate jimmys and a batch of “Lebanese” brigadeiros- both barely survived the night. Kudos to Risha for participating in the womanly bonding experience of rolling brigadeiros.

Ingredients
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
4 tablespoons coco, unsweetened
Splash of vanilla
1 tablespoon butter

For the “Lebanese” version add:
1 Tablespoon rose water or 1 teaspoon rose flavor
Crushed pistachios for garnish

About 15 Servings

This is disgustingly easy. Throw everything in a pan over low heat. Stir constantly for about 10 minutes, when you will notice a dough starting to form. Basically, the sugar in the condensed milk starts to caramelize and you will smell something delightful. Keep stirring until the dough is pulling away from the pan, and starts to act as a solid mass. Better safe than sorry- make sure it is really sticking together before turning off the heat.

Set aside for a few minutes until it is cool enough to handle. Using cold (or butter smeared!) hands, grab a little nubblet of dough and roll between your hands into a ball. Dip in pistachios to coat, and you are done!

These are amazing hot, amazing cold, amazing period- as long as they are in your tummy!

Timman Bagila (Rice with Fava Beans)

Timman bagila is an Iraqi dish, though it is originally from Iran, where it is called bagila pilaow. I would hesitate to call my version authentic, as I cook it to my own tastes, but the traditional components of dill, fava beans, rice and lamb are the stars of this dish. I cook it in a complex way, but once mastered, it is a no-brainer and a guaranteed feast!

Ingredients

Lamb Shanks- I used 3 lamb shanks, bone in, cut in half by the butcher

2 Cups Basmati Rice, soaked in water for at least an hour

Olive Oil

1 Cup Dill, chopped

1 bag frozen fava beans (lima beans work as well)

1 onion

2 cloves garlic

Juice of 1 lemon

1 loomi Basra ( a dried lime, totally optional)

Cinnamon

Tumeric

Salt

Pepper

Serves 4

Start by rinsing the lamb shanks and patting dry. Place lamb shanks in a heavy oven safe pot with a lid. Pour a few tablespoons olive oil over the shanks and rub with cinnamon, salt and pepper. Sprinkle in a pinch or two of your dill, and place in a 425 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

In the mean time, chop your onion and garlic. When the lamb starts to become fragrant, pull it out of the oven and cover with water. Reduce your oven to 300. Put half of the onion and both cloves of garlic in with the lamb, and pierce the dried lime and throw it in with the rest of the components. Cover, and place in oven. This lamb should cook at least 2 hours, but 3 hours will give you lamb that melts right off the bone!

When your lamb is starting to look quite delicious (or you are getting very hungry!) place a large pot on the stove, and sauté the rest of your onion in a little olive oil. Take the lamb out of the oven, and set up a platter, bowl or cutting board along side. Pull each shank out of the broth with tongs, and fork the meat off of the bone- after 3 ½ hours I didn’t even need a fork. The meat fell right off on its own! Reserve broth and discard the lime.

At the same time, pour wet rice and a few pinches of turmeric and 1 tablespoon of salt into another pot over medium-high heat and cover with water. Moving back to the onions- go ahead and throw your meatless shank bones in with the onions and sauté- this will really give the dish extra flavor! After about 5 minutes, pull out the bones and discard. Pour in your bag of fava beans, and sprinkle turmeric over them and stir to coat- the turmeric will help make your fava beans look really beautiful and green! Add the rest of the dill, and throw in your reserved lamb meat, and cook together for another few minutes, then add about ½ cup of water and simmer for 2 or 3 minutes more.

Pour the bean/onion/meat mixture into a bowl. At this point, you should have par-boiled rice with softening kernels that have absorbed most of the water. The rice should be wet, but there should not be much extra liquid. In your large onion pan, run a paper towel over the bottom to clean out any dill, and pour in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan and place over medium heat. Spoon enough rice into the pan to coat the bottom in a layer of rice. Shake the pan a bit to make it a nice even layer and let it cook for a minute or two so it starts to brown on bottom.

Scoop a large spoonful of beans and meat and place over the rice. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Then, add another layer of rice. Repeat a few times, sprinkling each bean layer with cinnamon, and end with a top layer of rice. Ideally, you want to be mounding the rice and beans in a pyramid- if you form the rice in this way, it allows the steam to build nicely around the rice and it also helps create a nice crust on the bottom of the pan.

Poke a few holes in the rice with the back of your spoon, and ladle about 1 ½ cups over the rice, pouring it into those holes. This is not an exact science- you don’t want to cover the rice at all- it is more about pouring enough in that there is liquid about ¼ of the way up your rice pyramid.

Cover the pan, and turn the burner down as low as it goes. You should be ready to go in about 15 minutes! Pick up the lid, and stick a spoon down into the deeper layers of rice to make sure it is cooked through and the liquid has been absorbed.

If the rice is done, scoop the rice onto a large serving platter without disturbing your bottom crust. Sometimes God is on your side and the crust will slip out. Other times you can stick your pan into the sink with some cool water underneath, and the crust will loosen. Usually, you have to scrape it out. What ever happens, arrange your golden crust on top of the platter, and you are ready to serve- unless you are me and refuse to eat any rice without a delicious sprinkling of nuts. Today, I sautéed up some almonds and pistachios and sprinkled them over the rice.

I know it sounds terrible and complicated, but once you start mastering the processes and learn that great rice dishes like this require simple but numerous steps, it becomes easy!

Spiced Pomegranate Lamb with Rice

Sarah suggested I start posting recipes for some of the things I cook. I realized that I don’t measure anything when I cook, so it might be difficult to post the way I go about it. However, I will give it a shot- I find learning about other peoples cooking techniques alone is interesting, so hopefully you will find it to be too!

Lamb

1 ½ pounds lamb, cut into cubes
½ cup pomegranate molasses
¼ cup olive oil
2 tablespoons each of:
-cinnamon
-nutmeg
-all spice
-cumin
-cardamom
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
one medium sized onion, roughly chopped
5 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

Rice

2 cups basmati rice
2/3 cup vermicelli (you could skip this if you don’t have it on hand!)
¼ cup ghee/semna or oil- olive or vegetable works fine
½ cup each of each, but you could substitute other nuts if you wanted:
-roasted pistachios, roughly chopped
-pine nuts
-almond flakes
-golden raisins

Crank your oven up to 425 and pull out a dutch oven or covered casserole dish. To start off, combine the olive oil and half of the pomegranate molasses in a small bowl. Combine all spices plus salt in pepper in a separate bowl. Dunk each lamb cube in the olive oil/molasses mixture and then cover in spices and put in your dutch oven. Put the dutch oven, uncovered, in the hot oven for about 20 minutes, or until the lamb is fragrant, browning and producing juices. Pull out the dutch oven and turn the oven down to 300. Pour water over the lamb until it is covered, and add the onion and garlic. I usually scrape the bottom of the dutch oven to pull up those yummy lamb flavor particles. Add the rest of the pomegranate molasses. If you are feeling sassy, throw in some cinnamon sticks and bruised cardamom pods- FYI, I’m always sassy about cinnamon sticks and cardamom pods.

Cover the dutch oven, stick it back in the 300 degree oven, and be prepared to wait. This lamb is best if you give it 3 to 3 ½ hours in the oven. While it is cooking, every once and a while I pull it out to check its progress- if the liquid starts to reduce and expose the meat, pour some more water over it and stick it back in the oven. This type of lamb usually becomes pretty edible about an hour in; but if you have the time, wait it out- I find the results after 3 ½ hours of cooking are well worth it!

When I figure there is about ½ hour to go on the lamb, I start the rice. First, I always soak my rice for a few hours in a bowl of water- this softens the kernel and helps release the flavor, which is really nice with basmati or jasmine rice. Pull out a non-stick sauce pan, and throw half of that fat (either that ghee or oil) in the bottom of the pan over medium heat. Toss in the vermicelli, and make sure to stir it because it will start to burn quickly. When it is a golden brown, toss in your drained rice and turn up the heat a bit. You want to keep stirring the rice until it starts to color a bit and soften.

Here comes the eye-balling part: Pull the dutch oven out and pull off some of the stock. I use a little Turkish coffee pot because you can stick it in the pan and it is nice and pourable. Take as much as you can get, and replace the stock with some more water, and put the dutch oven back in the oven. Pour the stock over the rice- you want to cover it by about ¾ to 1 inch. So, if you have too much stock, don’t keep pouring. If you don’t have enough, admit defeat and use water. Stir the liquid into the rice and give that stock a taste- if you need salt, add a little.
Turn the heat up and bring the rice to a rolling boil. If you are STILL feelings sassy, throw in some cardamom pods. Then cover and reduce to low. Whatever you do, don’t lift the lid for at least 20 minuets!

Throw a little of what ever fat you used in a skillet, and dump in the nuts. I salt them a bit as well, as nuts tend to come unsalted here. Once they start to brown, throw in the golden raisins- watch those carefully because they can burn quickly and turn into angry brown bombs. Once everything is fragrant, turn off the heat and set to the side.

The rice should be getting close to done after about 20 minutes. Its not an exact science I find- thus I make sure my rice pot has a glass lid. If it is looking fluffy and good, go ahead and lift the lid off and taste it. If it needs more time, stick the lid back on and admit defeat again and be patient.

When the rice is ready to go, scoop it onto a serving platter. Spoon the lamb over the rice, and cover with the nuts and raisins! I will admit, this photo features some delicious boiled quail eggs… and if you look, there are golden flakes of the much coveted crust from the bottom of the rice pan!

Produce and eggs galore!

One of my favorite parts about living abroad is taking advantage of different available ingredients. Quail eggs are so cute and spotted! And check out those quality tomatoes...

Where to go from here...

Now that I have broken out of “the system,” am a “free woman,” and can do anything that I please, the possibilities that lay ahead seem more like an overwhelming nebulous blur than a clear illuminated path to my ideal future. My philosophy of keeping doors open has always translated into a mental image of white poufy clouds, each carrying a door with a beautiful golden handle with golden sunshine rays pouring in, beckoning me to all the possibilities my future holds. Now that I have the opportunity to take those golden sunshine rays up on their offer, that mental image is different. I see a long hall with terrible red velvet carpet, flickering gothic sconces, doors laden with thick wrought iron handles, and a chute to an abyss on the other side.

So, when I close my eyes these days, that is what I see. But I shake my head and open them, and tell myself I am very lucky to have had the opportunity to come here, to fulfill at least what I thought was my dream the moment I said “I’m going!” Taking responsibility for my actions has become a theme lately- that translates into me telling myself, “Well, kid, this is what you wanted, so you better get the best out of it.”

Fear not, my friends- I do not hate life over here in Beirut. Quite to the contrary. I happen to have just watched My Sisters Keeper, can barely see through my swollen, teary eyes, and am having a moment of introspection. Sappy movies about valuing family, friends and life in general always reel me into some serious thinking about what I am running away from. Or towards? Or, am I just running for the sake of running?

When I think about what I am going to do when I graduate with my Masters in Urban Planning and Policy in June 2012, I always think first about the people I want to surround myself with. I think of Northern California and being in my Mothers kitchen, leaning up against the counter and seeing a room full of women that mean the world to me. Friends I have known since pre-school, friends I have traveled the world with. Friends who are falling in love, having babies, living their lives- all with out me. I get email updates, I see them once a year if I am lucky. It is always as though nothing has changed. Same faces, same kitchen table, same love.

I also think of DC. In DC there is a group of young, brilliant people who choose to be in this particular city because they are driven to shape the future of our country. A group of leaders and mentors who supported me even though I was different. People who think like me, and even better, people who don’t. Friends and old colleagues who I became an adult with, who challenged my perceptions, who encouraged and supported me when I decided to drop it all and walk away. Friends who I could not have made this choice without.

And oddly, the place that exists in the fuzzy allure of over-exposed vintage film fantasy is Indiana. When I think of bliss, I think of an old country road to a lake in southern Indiana that I'm not sure I have ever been on. It is a fantasy of simplicity, bass fishing, flannel shirts, Bruce Springsteen and Neil Young. It is watching drive-in movies, running through corn fields, and shooting the shit with my college roommates under the stars. It is the warm glow of 4460 Broadway street, and watching the fireflies twinkle as I dance on the porch to old records with my grandfather.

I think of all these people and places, and I can’t figure out where I want to be. I can’t figure out where I need to be. And worst of all, I actually need to decide. It is time to grow up, and it is time to decide where this life is taking me. Or, I guess this is the point where I say: It is time for me to decide where I am taking this life.

Do I apply to USAID and bridge my old career with a new one, live in DC and work for a mission which flies an altruistic banner that I can stand tall under? Where I can travel the world, have long philosophical conversations about politics and war, and go to Nationals games? Give James a break from Maria by going shopping, enjoying fall leaves and eating at the newest restaurant we have salivated over? What will I do about my serious misgivings about the greater political context in which aid is given?

Do I move home to the Bay Area and work for some urban planning company and let my life revolve around car turning radii, increasing public space in housing developments, and calming rush hour traffic through transportation infrastructure interventions? Babysit while Celia and Bob have date night, go to Napa with the girls and watch another one of my friends bite the dust and get hitched? But after the places I have been and the things that have become a part of me, can Marin keep me happy?

Now translating Indiana to a future is the tough one. What makes me want to go to Indiana as quickly as possible is my Grandmother. When I was leaving Indiana in August, I said goodbye to her. I said goodbye being quite sure that she would not be sitting in her chair by the time I got back. If my Grandmother is still alive when I come home, my decision may be made.

Where am I in all of these equations? I can’t separate myself from the prospect of being with the people I love. But I love people in all of these places. So peeling back the next layer still leaves just me. I want it all. I want all of these things, and I want all of these people to continue to be a part of my life. Asides from being a wandering nomad, I am still at a loss on how this all works out. I feel like all of this running has me coming to an edge- a sea cliff perhaps, one I have no interest in going over. Or maybe I am running up a big mountain path, and when I get to the top, I will have to come back down. I can’t expect anyone to keep up with all this running, especially when I don’t know where I am going.

I’m having trouble with the mental image of my end point- what happiness and satisfaction will look like. For now it is me with my eyes closed, smiling and feeling content. On a porch- somewhere. Surrounded by friends- which ones, I am not sure. But for sure I know that this smiling me has made up her mind, and she is content- and this contentment doesn’t mean giving up dreams, friends or family. Now I just need to figure out how I find this porch and I’m sure the rest will fall into place.

New Digs and Rabbits

It is official- I have had my first dinner guests. I am all settled into my new apartment and couldn’t be happier. It is clean and comfortable, and the perfect size for one person. I selected “apartment number 3”- the one bedroom furnished place by the sea in Ain el Mressieh.

Earlier this week a woman and her husband moved into the other apartment on my floor. She is a PhD candidate and a professor told me she was in a bad situation and needed a new place- I knew there was an open apartment and brought her to see the place. They moved in the next day! So now I have neighbors whom I like, which makes the place even better. We made dinner together last night and it was wonderful.

After dinner, we went for a walk. I now live in the neighborhood which I wrote about in my Research Methods class As we were walking by the terraced property in the shadows of the high rise tower going up, I pointed out these huge bunnies that were hopping around. I had seen them out before nibbling grass, but I didn’t know who they belonged to. While we were talking about the bunnies, a man came up an said “do you want to see them?” I said, “No!” because they are huge and terrifying. But, he went inside and brought back a baby and shoved it in my hands.

We end up going inside- the building is actually the site managers (and bunny enthusiasts) office. He has a little garden in back with about 6 imported huge fancy rabbits, a fish tank with piranhas and backlit rose bushes. It was quite surreal. So, being the little urban planning enthusiast that I have become, I used the bunny small talk as an inroad.

The terracing that I spoke of, and the trees- they were his idea. Because the building will take multiple years to put up, he wanted a nice environment to work in. Most of what I thought was old squatter residences are really worker residences- mostly from Syria. There is a house where “poor people” live- he seemed to let them stay for the time being in exchange for looking over the property and apparently doing his laundry.

The Syrian workers actually reside on a large portion of the property, so I asked what was going to be built there, and he said nothing for now. They are going to keep housing the Syrians there and bus them to other areas of the city because the same company is putting up 7 other buildings that need workers. I wonder how the new residents of the luxury tower are going to feel about the Syrian shantytown out side their window. Hopefully they will be too enchanted with their sea view to notice.

I will try and write more... been busy with class!

Weighing what is Important in a Place to Live

So, I am moving out of my apartment. A few too many cockroach encounters (including an incident involving me blow drying my hair, accidentally blowing a hiding cockroach off of the door jam and onto my body and a fateful choice between turning on the sink to wash it away or becoming electrocuted by my hair dryer) has led me to decide to pursue other accommodations. The cheap price of my current apartment convinced me that the dingy bathroom and strange kitchen were survivable. Now, my roach friends and mysterious pink dust puffs all over the apartment have me reconsidering.

Problem: I have bought appliances. I have a bed. So now in my search, there is this strange tension between getting a furnished and unfurnished place. If I get a furnished place, I bought the appliances for nothing- though I can bring my bed. If I get an unfurnished place, I have to buy MORE furniture.

I have a few choices. One is a beautiful two bedroom, close to the water. Has an office, is quiet, very clean. Unfurnished. I could bring my appliances- they wouldn’t go to waste- but the problem is the place is HUGE and doesn’t have closets. Not only would I need a couch, table, lamps, kitchen ware, desk- I would need places to store my clothes. It is so nice and clean- but it is also the priciest of my options- plus you have to pay into the generator in the building, when I am never even around during the day to use the electricity!

I saw another apartment today that has an unbeatable central location. It is right next to Bread Republic, my favorite spot. It is on Hamra Street- the main drag with everything. Across the street from a nice hotel- also a bonus is that the area is developed- no construction jackhammers torturing me. However, the bedroom is positioned right on the street. When I was looking at it I was too happy about the location to think of listening to the street noise level. That street is always hopping. May not be so conducive to studying. However, the place has two bedrooms (though they are basically connected) so it would be nice for when people come to visit! This is the cheapest of the options, probably because it is a little worn down and has no generator.

The third option I have not yet seen. It is close to the first, not in a commercial area, and is furnished. A small looking one bedroom, but it looks clean and livable. I’m going to look at it tomorrow. My only concern with it is that it looks so tight for space that when people come to visit it wouldn’t be very useful. And I think I am hesitant because the first place is so nice I would be willing to not live in a commercial area as a tradeoff. This one isn’t as nice and spacious, so I don’t know if I want to make that trade off.

Central location + noise? Peace, quiet and lovely bathroom fixtures + biting the bullet and sinking money into furniture I will only use for 20 months? Middle of the road? I always hate middle of the road. So… compromisey.

Hopefully I decide tomorrow…

What does “dangerous” feel like?

On Friday, I was sitting at a café escaping one of Beirut’s torrential rainstorms accompanied by resonating thunder and flooded streets. The internet was down, people were hiding under awnings. Perfect time for a Turkish coffee and some urban planning theory reading.

I go to this place often, so I know the guys that run the place. We were going back and forth a bit about the weather and politics. After a few minutes, a sheepish little older woman walks up to my table and asks me, “You were speaking English, right? Are you from America?” I tell her I am, and she takes a seat. She says 50 years ago she came to Lebanon to visit a friend she had made in college. Now, she had come back with another friend to see how Beirut had changed. Then, she cut right to it- “Should I be scared?” she said. The question threw me off, and I tried to maintain my eye contact with her so that my answer was convincing- “Of the traffic in Beirut? Yes, I supposed we all should be a bit scared.” She laughed slightly, but continued, “We have been reading about the rising tensions. Some people have told us that the mood in Beirut is the same as it was before the civil war. Why is Ahmadinijad coming to Lebanon? What does that mean? What is this Special Tribunal and why are people so mad about it? Are we going to be okay?”

I couldn’t imagine asking another person this series of questions, especially one I had just met in a café. But, all of her questions were valid, and ones I have been considering over the past few months myself. At the end of the day, I don’t know who has control over the future of Lebanon. However, there is something I know quite confidently- it certainly is not me. No matter what I do here, the future events- whether they be driven by Syrian encroachment on Lebanese sovereignty, the political, military and religious whims of Hassan Nasrallah, or by Lebanese citizens is some form or another saying “enough is enough”- I will only be here to watch it happen.

As a momentary aside to describe my current views of Lebanese politics, I can only say that I am beginning to think some forms of dictatorship or authoritarian regime are in many ways more responsive to the needs of citizens then a faux or broken democratic system, or one riddled with corruption. Those authoritarian regimes have to cater enough to the basic needs of the populace to keep them complacent. I have not seen that in Lebanon. The price for the right to vote seems to be quite high. The disgust your average Lebanese has with politics has me again questioning the American approach of idealizing democracy in the Middle East- at least when it doesn’t effect our strategic goals of securing oil markets, malleable partners in the global war on terror and strategic counterweights to Iran.

Back to the nice little lady with fear written all over her face- knowing that she was going to persist with her line of questioning, I told her about the way I have been thinking about the current Lebanese political state of affairs. I told her that the Special Tribunal (click here to read about it from the UN point of view) has to be put into the current context- it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but given the current political climate, who can benefit from STL indictments? What will they help? People have back peddled so quickly that nothing but a vacuum of mistrust and rumor surround the STL. She looked quite worried at this point, and I realized that no matter how much I explained, that the end point was the same. Yes, Lebanon could disintegrate at any time. But what does that mean? How many times have we seen on the news that a country is falling apart, or that international leaders are “worried?” I honestly don’t know what that means. Simple catch phrases to fill the void between sports and entertainment. Ultimately, I ask myself this- what would it mean for me if I am here when things fall apart?

I told her not to worry because worrying would get her nowhere. It was interesting for me to tell this to a woman well into her 70s, but it was all I had. I told her that her apartment was in a safe, diverse neighborhood, and ultimately no one would benefit from hurting her, no matter how bad it got. I told her I wasn’t scared, and that millions of Lebanese survived even the worst of times here. She said thank you, and went back to her table.

I tried to concentrate on my reading, but I was at a loss. I couldn’t put my finger on where I was hiding my own fear, or what I have done to diffuse it. At the end of the day, I think my ultimate belief that everything happens for a reason is what keeps me sane. I have never found utility in contemplated fear- the natural gut instinct to flee danger is the only fear I trust. I have not felt that here. I hope I never do.

Bread Republic

I wouldn’t call Bread Republic a “hidden gem.” Those who should be “in the know” seem to know its flavors and charms well. Located on Hamra Street around the corner in an alley, Bread Republic livens a broad cobblestone ally with good food, good drinks, and pleasant service.

To my knowledge, Bread Republic has no indoor seating. Tables dot the ally while a door leads into a bakery where a variety of bread is made. I assume beyond that lays the kitchen. Two wine coolers chill a variety of red and white, and they also offer a selection of unique cocktails. Their coffee is good, as are their lemonades and juices.

I have visited Bread Republic for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and so far have been impressed by their purist approach to food- simple dishes featuring well seasoned, fresh quality ingredients . The breakfast menu features tasty omelets, some featuring unique Lebanese ingredients such as akoub, a spiny thistle well written about in a new favorite blog of mine.

I also enjoy a variety of their brushetta dishes. My favorite is a crusty toast served with a thick layer of lebneh (strained yogurt that has a rich cheesy feel) piled high with fresh oregano. I also was delighted by an arugula, prosciutto and shaved parmesan plate. This evening for dinner I had the pleasure of falling in love with a risotto topped with delicious wild mushrooms and thick slices of artichoke and the delicate taste of fresh lemon.

I have no doubts that Bread Republics free wireless, lovely breezy location and consistently good, satisfying food will keep luring me in on my way home...

Classes so far...

My first week of classes went well. I dropped the Poli Sci elective I was so excited about. I walked in, it was all American Middle East Studies graduate students wearing awkward ties and enjoying the sounds of their own oddly informed voices. That sounds terrible. Maybe it is just not what I was looking for...To be fair, it wasn’t everyone, but it was enough. I logged onto the registrars webpage and dropped the class while one of them droned on about how he was appalled Maronites were not on the list of minorities to be covered. So, I switched into the class I wanted to take anyway, Illegal Cities. I have two classes with the professor who teaches it- she had advised me to try and find another class so I could get some diversity of opinion my first semester. She is really smart and fun, though, so I would rather have her twice than torture myself with the others. Plus, it is more related to my field of study anyway. The class focuses on “illegal cities”- typically spaces developed outside of legal regulations or without centralized planning. Places were public services and access to infrastructure tends to be lacking. The first readings were really interesting, so I am looking forward to the rest of the class.

Neighbors

4 October, 9:18 PM
My Balcony


I don’t really know my neighbors, but I am starting to decide who they are none-the-less. From my balcony I can clearly see about fifteen balconies. I like to pretend they can’t see me. So, based on what I see these people doing on their balconies, I have begun to create myself neighbors.

In the building straight ahead of me, on the right are the sprawling balconies. On the left are little balconies. From what I can tell they are separate apartments, though it is possible the little balcony is off of the master bedroom. It is quite hard to tell. But I do know that “Mr. Meticulous Plant Tender” only meticulously tends his plants on the little balcony, not the big one. So, based on this fact, I contend they are separate.

On the 4th floor big balcony apartment lives a big family, ranging from tiny people to a veiled grumpy grandma. The tiny ones, two female devil spawns of about 3 and 5, enjoy spitting off their balcony. It seems to be their main hobby. They dangerously drag chairs up to the railing, dangle over it, then fling back their head and spit over the side. It is charming. Somehow they are never caught. I have never walked under their balcony.

One floor up on the small side is the plant tender. He is absolutely obsessed. In what I judge to be a 4 x 8 balcony, I count about 9 big plants. He appears partial to the fichus. He mists them. He coddles them. He rotates them. He sits in the middle of them- I bet he is closing his eyes in fichus ecstasy, but I can’t know for sure. He is too far away. But what else could he be doing?

I saw a new man tonight. 6th floor, big balcony. That balcony never has anyone on it and is kept neat and tidy. Tonight, under one light, he sat and smoked shisha and read a book. I was reading a book for a while (the Point Reyes Girls and I have started an online book club!), and when I looked back he was gone. He may be a mystical and hard to spot balcony dweller.

The building next to that one is less entertaining, as there are rarely people out doors. It is an older building with teal shutters. The out door spaces are sparse but large- they seem to mostly be used for laundry hanging. I did just see a man in his pajamas walk out one door and into another. It is the first time I have seen people there. However, there is a girl who seems to live in a shack type structure on the roof of the house. Or maybe she goes up there to talk on the phone away from her parents. Twice I have seen her running wildly across the roof late at night, phone to ear. I seriously thought she was going to fling herself right off. So far so good…though I have not seen her in a while.

The other night I witnessed my first neighborhood rumble. Under the second building I mentioned is a little shop. I’m not sure what is in there- looks like cold drinks and maybe some little snacks. Usually there are a few young guys out front. People come in and out all day. The other night, someone really pissed off one of those boys. They were screaming, scuffling, throwing things. By the time I made it to the balcony, peoples mothers and sisters were being spoke of in ungodly terms, and a boy was running up the front of a car to leap onto another with a karate kick. At least 30 young guys gathered around and blocking traffic. For the first time , all the balconies were filled. There were so many people hanging over every balcony in a two-block radius watching the ruckus that I couldn’t assign mysterious identities to hardly one of them! I did see a boy look out the window, then I saw him running down the stairs. I tried to guess what door he would come out of, and I guessed right! I didn’t expect him to plow in fists blazing, but he did! Now he is “the scary boy”.

Illegal Cities: Los Angeles

Warm-Up Exercise: Global Slums

Based on 2003 Global Slum Report: Los Angeles, U.S.A



1) What is the definition of slums adopted in this report?

The authors contend that in Los Angeles, slum can describe whole neighborhoods or a single building. A slum neighborhood or building typically share three core characteristics: deteriorated physical housing conditions, low levels of resident income and low levels of private investment and property maintenance. The focus of their report is “disinvested neighborhoods” which are identified by the intersection of two statistics: tax delinquency rates of more than 6 percent, and 30 percent or more of households make less than US$25,000 annually.

2) What are the conditions under which “slums” have developed in the studied city?

The authors attribute the initial development of slums in Los Angeles to the increased strategic defense importance of the Port of Los Angeles in the 1890’s. Increased economic activity in the area caused longshoreman and other workers to congregate and establish dense, low-income housing in a slum area known to this day as Skid Row. Economic fluctuations, land reclamation for water and infrastructure projects, and consistently high immigration are all contributing factors to the existence of slums in Los Angeles today.

3) What is the relative position of these “slums” to the investigated city?

As of 2003, disinvested neighborhoods made up 20% of the area of Los Angeles and housed 43% of the cities population- 1,582,153 people. Disinvested neighborhoods can be found in the center of the city in the form of high-density housing such as overcrowded apartment buildings and include areas such as Little Tokyo and parts of Hollywood. Low-density areas are often composed of informal housing units such as converted garages and tend to exist on the southern and eastern periphery of the city.

4) Who lives in the “slums” of the investigated city?

According to statistics cited by the authors, Latinos, especially immigrants, make up a large percentage of the population living in slums in Los Angeles- nearly 65% of the slum population. African American’s make up 17%, while Whites and Asians each make up 8% of slum residents. Nearly 80% of those who live in slums rent their homes. Two-thirds of the households in slums are composed of families, with 40% being married families. Half of the households in slums make less than US$25,000, and 80% have incomes less than US$50,000 annually.

5) What types of policies have been deployed towards these slums by the national government?

According to the authors, federal, state and local housing and community development programs have pursued several strategies to deal with slums in Los Angeles. The federal government dictates that 70% of federal Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) funds must be used to benefit low and moderate-income persons. The State of California has designated local Redevelopment Agencies with the task of identifying slum areas that could be beneficial to the state if recaptured under eminent domain. As a questionable trade-off, at least 20% of the captured funds from the land must be reinvested in affordable housing projects.

The federal government has also worked with state and local governments to establish Empowerment Zones/Enterprise Communities that utilize a combination of economic incentives such as targeted tax benefits, low interested loans and grants to encourage the rehabilitation of slums. However, the most notable product of these programs- the Los Angeles Community Development Bank- is considered a failure, according to a secondary source cited by the authors.

First Assignment for Research Methods

We were asked to walk about a neighborhood close to campus and write a descriptive text about what we observed, followed by a short "first impressions" section.

29 September 2010
Ain el-Mressieh
12:00pm-1:30pm

After leaving the Medical Gate I followed the one way roads though the area east of The Parisian Hotel. The area was full of mixed eras of architecture and building standards, each structure struggling against the topography more than the last. Some small crumbling homes, now abandoned, seemed to have sunk into the valleys created by newer construction. Remnants of families gone and stories forgotten lay mixed with new pre-fabricated building materials carelessly thrown from the expansive balconies of recently completed but not yet inhabited construction. Electric lines split 8 or 9 times reach like fingers through windows and into homes. Looking down some breezy shaded alleys I could see beautifully preserved architecture from perhaps the 40's and 50's featuring fine lattice work, original wood doors and beautifully carved shutters. The shutters seem almost an anachronistic formality, though, as the windows no longer looked out into the world but into the back of a generator for a 15 story high-rise.

The western portion of Ain el-Mressieh is very crowded with cars and has limited pedestrian traffic. Sidewalks are often crumbling or stop abruptly. Most streets have parked cars on both sides, and a significant amount of construction equipment clogs the streets. Few street signs mark the area, though some buildings have the street name written onto the side as part of the address. The people I did see in the western portion of Ain el-Mressieh were construction crews, building guards and car passengers. I did not see any children or women until I arrived in the vicinity of the Phoenicia Hotel.

The eastern portion of Ain el-Mressieh seems to have a different, less residential feel. From the Hard Rock Café eastward, more restaurants, store fronts and offices begin to dot the streets. Again, few pedestrians are walking, and those I do see appear to be construction workers in near by building sites. Immediately after heading inland from the corniche, the streets become quite steep, and inconveniently twist and wind in unpredictable manners. While walking on Umar Daaouk street, I saw the same car full of people circle the block three times, apparently looking for an address.

The most interesting sight told me the story of what Ain el-Mressieh may have been decades ago, or perhaps merely revealed the coping mechanisms of a population displaced by real estate development successes. Around where Dar el-Mressieh hits Paris, in prime corniche real estate territory, a sink hole hides in the shadow of a new 12 story luxury building. The fancy sign boasted that each flat will be over 300 square meters and feature 3 master bedrooms. Below, closed in by barbed wire and littered with construction materials, is a beautifully terraced and landscaped plot of land which features pomegranate, lime and orange trees.

A simple home is nestled in the corner, it's delicate but simple facades broken off and strewn about. Some of the construction workers from the neighboring building were lounging in the shade beneath the pomegranate trees having lunch. Soon, it appears, the entire space will be swallowed by the tower, probably for some sort of parking structure. Before long, I can imagine any building standing in the way of a high rise will be gone, with nothing left but faceless towers of rebar and cement competing for sea views.

First Impressions
After visiting Ain el-Mressieh, I continue to think about the competing buildings and competing building interests in the area. I imagine the development and redevelopment of Ain el-Mressieh would be fascinating to view through a time lapse computer model. In its current state, it is so cluttered and the architecture so varied that it is nearly impossible to visualize how the area has progressed. Part of the areas charm is the varied architecture, but buildings are competing for space, street access, views and parking. It is obvious that Ain el-Mressieh has not been subject to a comprehensive urban planning effort.

I wonder how real estate prices are affected by the lack of planning effort in the area. If you pay a lot of money for a sea view, and the next year your property is devaluated by another high rise building which blocks that view, what effect does that have on the owner? On the over all housing market in the area? How does that impact greater Beirut’s market for high end apartments, or affordable housing for that matter? Who lives in that neighborhood? Who should live in that neighborhood? Finally, what do the people who currently live in Ain el-Mressieh want from their community? Is it different than what the people who have bought new flats in the high rise buildings want? If so, how can those differences be reconciled?

Slowly settling in...

27 September
Laziz Cafe
Hamra

My feeling of slight melancholy and discomfort in my new surroundings is beginning to abate. A few negotiations successes and some good meals were all I needed. I believe the discovery of about 10 good places to drink coffee and eat in a 3 block radius of my apartment has me feeling less annoyed about my electricity situation. Among these discoveries:

Lina's- A block away from my house, on a nice busy corner. Good coffee, good sandwiches and an interesting mixed crowd of young beautiful people and old cab drivers all there to enjoy coffee.

Ristretto- Excellent coffee and really nice people. Free wi-fi and an unfortunately good cheese croissant. A man there told me they have really good eggs and pancakes and their outdoor terrace will be nice once the heat cuts me a break. Right on my way to school -I have a feeling this will be a regular morning stop.

Zaatar w Zeit- I may not Ike this as much since school has kicked off- it was loaded with undergrads screeching and socializing. I sound Iike such an old lady, but all that carefree attitude can be a bit annoying. The place is a chain but with really yummy manaeesh- fluffy bread with what ever your heart desires. Also, free wi-fi and good orange juice, right across from school.

A sushi place- the name escapes me. But, I am already in love. There is a square bar with a little conveyor belt that zooms sushi around. They are all labeled and on different colored plates- the color corresponds to the price. There are three pieces of sushi on each plate, and you just grab whatever you want. I had three different plates with yummy fresh sushi on it, and it was...7 USD. 7 for a sushi lunch! they have a very entertaining Japanese sushi chef who was yelling in heavily japanese accented Arabic. This place is a stones throw from my house. They also have sake. Score.

There are a few places that I have not been bold enough to enter solo because they are a bit more barish or pubish. But I'm sure I will enjoy them soon enough. There is one in particular, Ferdinands, that has caught my eye... I think my dad will like it.

On a separate note, I was awarded a full graduate assistantship, so yet again, I am not paying for my education. I don't really know how I get so lucky. AUB is paying all of my tuition. Though I had budgeted for the about 30k the two year program would cost, it looks like it is taken care of. In exchange, I am the graduate assistant to a professor, and it looks as though I will benefit much from my match. She seems brilliant and energetic, and I am very excited about working with her. I am the graduate assistant for a second year art and architectural history course that examines the trends, theories and development of the Italian renaissance and the Ottoman empire. The first class was today, and I am shocked by how young the students seem. I had quite a bit of fun playing the the serious but helpful assistant, handing out syllabi and telling people that if they showed up on time, they wouldn't have to ask me questions which the professor had already answered. I remember being scared of the graduate assistant in my first undergrad poli sic class- Leila. I bet they view me the same way. I will sit in on every class, which I am quite excited about- art history is something that fascinates me but under other circumstances I would not have the opportunity to take. Perfect!

I settled all my school issues, so now I just have to get my ID card. Then I can use the gym and try all the fun yoga, pilates and dance classes they offer. The gym is just a stones throw away from my department, which is nice.

One remaining hurdle is my residency visa, but it seems easy enough. I have to go all over town to countless government buildings handing in strange forms and they will take my passport for 3 weeks to put the visa in it. Then I am a legal resident of Lebanon for the next year.

Enough for now. My iPad has me reading again- for the last three years, I have to admit, the amount of reading I did at work prevented me from enjoying books. Now I am flying through Pride and Prejudice and am enjoying it quite a bit...

Kimberly

Sent from my iPad

The First Few Days in Beirut

25 September
Ras Beirut, Lebanon

It is 6:13 am, and I am sitting on my balcony overlooking Beirut's streets as they gradually wake from a short slumber. I myself woke up to lights flashing across my ceiling and the sound of powerful thunder crashing off of the surrounding buildings and echoing down the empty streets. Roosters added to the impressive ensemble and the muezzins beautiful voice cut through it all to announce it was time for the morning prayer.

I moved into my new apartment yesterday. It is simple but lovely- two symmetric rooms, one a bedroom and one a living room- connected by a open hallway where the kitchen and bathroom lay. The kitchen had no appliances, so yesterday I went to Ouzai and picked out some new ones. A little refrigerator, a washing machine and a gas stove with an external gas can- there are no municipal gas lines here. I don't have an air conditioner so finding a good fan was a priority- All the stores in Ouzai said they were sold out because of the recent heat wave. 98 is not normal this time of year, thank God. So, I had a taxi drive take me to BHV is Jineh. A place where Amercians feel comforted by endless aisles of shiny new things all packaged up and and marked prices that you don't bother haggling...They carry electronics, homewares, appliances, nice clothes- basically anything. I founds some sheets, towels and pillows to my liking, and then asked where the fans were. No fans. Out for the season. A place with everything people don't really need is out of what I need. So, I trek on. Someone in the store said they might have fans in Corniche al Mazraa. Not that I know where that is...

So, I get in a taxi with all my stuff, and I am on my way. I tell the driver we are on a mission to find fans, and off we go. I open up my iPad which despite it's lack on wifi connectivity still has a Beirut Google map up. It has kept me out of trouble more than a few times in the last couple of days. I decide we are heading north east and look for a large road that could be what we are traveling on. A few landmarks help me find out where we are, and we are indeed heading towards Mazraa. A sigh of relief.

We get there, and I spot a lovely fan that a looks as though it can blow away my dread of returning to a scorching apartment. We haggle, I fail- he can see the desperation in my face. I go home with a lovely fan.

In no time my apartment is filled with men installing appliances, putting up clothes lines on my balcony, arguing about why exactly I don't have water. Ah yes, I have failed to mention this- my shower has no water. Beirut is suffering from water shortages right now, so I can expect water to come out of the shower every other day. Except I have been in the apartment 3 consecutive days and have not seen water come out of the shower.

This water dilemma is a perfect segue to my second urban planning related discovery- In most parts of Beirut, the power cuts for 3 hours a day during the day light on a rotating schedule. Today, I will have no power from 9 to 12. Yesterday there was no power from 12 to 3. That means no elevator to my 4th floor apartment, and no fan when I get there. Many nice buildings and most businesses have generators that kick in to provide electricity for those 3 hours. I do not live in one of those buildings.

Yesterday while waiting to ambush my often traveling advisor, I met a future classmate. She is starting her masters in Urban Design, while mine will be Urban Planning. Our first year core classes will be together. She is smart and savvy, and studied something similar in her undergraduate years. So as we wait, I ask her how a city like Beirut, filled with people full of great ideas and knowledge, could suffer from water shortages and accept power cuts for 3 hours a day, every day. She stated very matter of factly that politicians here don't focus on the provision of services because they are distracted by politicking with each other, and that people just learn to live with it.

It barely makes sense to me. In my year in Cairo, which mind you is 20+ million strong and surrounded by desert and rarely sees rain- I never ran out of water. My power never once cut. Egypt is far less democratic and developed than Lebanon, though I guess I will have to question my development indicators. The fact that Beirut is full of Chanel and Versace boutiques and endless traffic jams of Mercedes and Land Rovers may have colored my metrics.

I wonder if the sheer population size and it's proclivity to agitation makes basic services a priority for the Mubarak regime. Perhaps risking power cuts and water shortages is too high a risk in a city so densely populated- though government subsidies and health services are often miserable failures. But, when subsidized bread runs out, the population makes sure the government is aware of its disapproval.

I guess this is what I can look forward to learning about. In the meantime, I will learn to shower with a bucket of water and bowl and take advantage of the disgustingly cheap shampoos and blow outs at the numerous salons that dot my neighborhood.

The rain showers and thunder are rolling inland, and I have two hours of power left before I will do as apparently you do in Beirut. I will go eat breakfast and sit in an incredibly lovely cafe full of incredibly lovely people for 3 hours. I was very sad about my lack of water yesterday, and fell asleep at 7:30 pm in frustration. But today I think I am ready to figure this out.

The Transition- California to Beirut

I have been in northern California taking care of everything I need to accomplish to prepare for two years abroad and doing my yearly catch up with the girls. There is indeed a possibility that I will not return to the states until Summer 2012, but I'm not positive yet. I really hope to make it back for the Maria + James wedding, and anyone else who decides to wed while I am away. We will have to see how things progress.

Today is Monday, and on Sunday I will be flying to Beirut. I have a nice flight- Virgin Atlantic from San Francisco to London, which is about 10 hours. Then on to Beirut. I will arrive late in the evening on the 20th and stay in a hotel close to campus for a few days. On the 21st-23rd I will take care of registration and getting all my administrative stuff in line. Hopefully I will also find an apartment. My main goals are finding something within two miles of campus, a balcony, and something that will allow me to have people visiting from abroad stay comfortably! I had a two bedroom in Egypt, but I don't think that will be possible in Beirut.

I am more than excited. Mom and I were looking at pictures of Beirut and the campus last night, and it looks wonderful. Mom was excited about the trees and hills, commenting that it looked like San Francisco! Hopefully I can lure her there during my stay.

The next adventure...

Right now I am planning my life transition in sets of days. I have a few days left in in my current location in the middle east. I have a few days get to DC. I have a few days in DC to quit my job, to say goodbye to the dear friends I have made. I have a few days in Indiana to visit my aging grandparents, my introspective father, my healed step-mother. Then too few days in California, which will always be home. Claudia's birthday, remembering what it is like to be free, and then becoming free on a 16 hour plane ride to Beirut that will start the next 2 years of my life. I don't know what will happen when the plane lands, but I know I will be happy.