beirutyabeirut

I am by now a real local as this photo proves: I can fall asleep anywhere any time. Yes! it's me under the hat. We are on a boat trip in a fascinating untouched region, the boat is not comfortable and it is raining non-stop. But who cares! A little nap is always welcome.

We have also, at last, moved into our house. There is not much to say about it apart from the garden, where I can now start my vegetable and herbs production. Our cook is learning to make compost. I had never realised that the process of producing compost can tell so much about countries and peoples: according to my Scottish colleague it takes 2-3 years to create compost back home. In France, that would take about 2-3 months. Well, in the Philippines it's 2-3 weeks! If you apply this same ratio to other things, you can imagine to what extent life is less boring here than in northern Europe. We have to live fast and intensely if we don't want to be turned into compost.

Photo: A view from our garden. There's not much more to show from the house. 

Photo: workers commuting in Mindanao.

I am not allowed to use the public transportation. I have to use our cars and drivers at all times, and I always have security guards with me. I am used to it now, but my friends are sometimes puzzled when I arrive somewhere with my men. "Are they with you all the time?" "How can you cope with this?" etc. What I wonder about is how I will be able to survive in Europe after this experience. I am so protected and pampered that soon I won't be able to do anything on my own, like wait for the bus or stop a taxi!

I also want to use our garden for yoga. I have started a class, although I never made it to that train the teachers, in India. But in the male dominated and heavily militarised environment where I live, bringing harmony and softness is vital. So I have started my class. So far, two students have enroled. Two generals.

Mindanao is a beautiful island, forgotten from most tourist guides. It is on top of the list of the "travel advice" warnings of ministries of foreign affairs though. It is a priviledge to be able to work in a place of difficult access to foreigners. It is a bit sad though because people are extremely nice and welcoming and would love to see more foreigners around and to have more business opportunities. It reminds me of a giant size Corsica. Vendettas are called here rido, and businesses do blow up every now and then.

Yesterday the international contingent where I am posted was going for a bicycle ride. There aren't so many activities around so I gladly joined. I forgot to consider that soldiers are slightly more fit and exercised than me! It was a bit hard, but upon arrival by the river breakfast was waiting for us. Well, a kind of a challenging breakfast for a vegetarian, but still, the logistics and the intention were there.

They were also very kind to slow down because of me. I came back exhausted and swearing it would take me long time before I recover and start again. But this morning again, wake-up at 6 for a bicyle ride. They mention a beach. So I forget everything, I pack my bathing-suit and kikoi and off I am! 10 metres after we passed the front gate I realised my mistake -they forgot to mention that the beach is 40 km away, behind the hill.

So after less than 10 km I abandon and put my bike on the van. It's after all not so bad to be so closely monitored. I still enjoyed the beach - and the fried banana yum! One thing is for sure we are not starving.   

Photo: Our Norwegian colleagues arrived one weeek before us and had time to prepare our "red carpet". We are the only 2 ladies in the team and everybody is taking good care of us.

We have to enjoy cycling before the rainy season starts. Our plan B is playing bridge, which we've started to learn last night. Gardening and yoga should complete the picture.

I also expect some friends' visits, as soon as we've sorted out the house - we're still in a hotel- and the security guidelines for foreigners. Don't expect to walk around Cotabato city on your own. You will probably spend most of your time at home -when we get one.

Cotabato city: the market by the river

But there are also lovely and fascinating places to visit in the country: Siquijor the island with the witches, Bohol with its "chocolate hills" and its tarsiers, Boracay and its sandy beaches, volcanos, rice fields and other beauties. In Mindanao, you can climb mount Apo, the highest peak in the country. Mabuhay!

Living without a home or an address has proved to bear some unexpected little difficulties, like updating regularly my blog. 

Saturday morning at 8:30 seems to be a good time for internet connexion in Beirut, as half of the city is still recovering from last night's parties.

Last night we went to Kayan to bid farewell to a good friend who is gonna work overseas, and then passed by the "Rock the Casbah" event our friend H organises bi-monthly in a new, interesting location in Saifi. It is an Arabic language school, and a hostel, and a bar, and an NGO, and God knows what else, in one of these surviving hidden alleyway gardens of Beirut.

In Beirut, the party is ongoing, as well as the lousy political news, the traffic, the chaos, the inequalities, and the uncomparable kindness of people. It was raining as I got back to C's place, where I am staying. A young man extended his arm -and his unmbrella: "can I escort you?" He walked me to the doorstep to protect me from the rain.

"Thank you very much.

- My pleasure. God bless you."

And that's it, he leaves. Pure kindness, people here do not expect anything in return.

I called my yoga teacher, he invited me to spend a few days in his Tripoli house. It's a beautiful old house he has renovated in a quite impressive way.

We had a wonderful time, resting, doing yoga on the beach, and seeing friends who decided to visit and eat with us the famous Tripoli sweets. A much needed rest after the hectic past 6 months, before joining a new adventure. In Beirut, I am reconnecting emotionnally with loved people and places. I feel comfortable and happy.

As I sit in my favourite cafes, the waiters or the "nara" boy (the man who brings the charcoal for the chicha) welcome me back and I can't help feeling at home.

"So this is why you are going to the Philippines?" asks B sarcastically as we are smoking at cafe Raouda.

- Yes, I am going to check Asia before.

R understands: "You can't help it".

But I will be taking a bit of Beirut with me: I will be shipping to myself a box of Lebanese treats, using the services of the agencies who work with the thousands of Filipino maids in Lebanon. I have started to collect natural soap, spices, and seeds to grow my favourite mediterranean herbs in Mindanao.

buying soap in Tripoli souk

The Lebanese are waking up and I have to save this before the connexion disappears again.

Happy new year!

I bought myself a Christmas gift. I always do. Not that I don't trust that anyone else will get me one, but, you never know and at least it is done.

It's a suitcase.

Two months ago, I left my job. Post-war Europe discovered that chain work in a factory was an oppression of the 19th century. I say that open space office work is an oppression of the 20th century, and that's behind us as well. We are free and we can certainly develop alternative modes of survival away from the photocopier and the coffee-machine.

So I have left office life and I am currently taking jobs here and there in the field. It's hard. But it's not boring. And there's no office meetings!

Now I am about to move to next step: life without a home. I am also about to leave my flat. Can we live without an address? This is what I am set up to discover. How will I be able to top-up my phone units without entering a post code on the online form? Will the French tax office be able to find me? They were already struggling with my changes of address and still occasionally send my tax invoices to Beirut. All these existential questions stir in my mind as I go to bed every night.

I called the gas supplying company and asked them how I would pay my last bill.

- Well, you read the meter on last day and call us and we'll send you the last bill.

- Er... the thing is, I am moving. Abroad. How can I get the bill?

- Depends. Where abroad are you moving to?

- Well, I am not sure yet.

Now this man thinks I am an old lady who is bored and calls to spend time and make conversation. He cannot actually believe that I am moving in 2 weeks time and I don't know where to.

This is why I need extra suitcases. I have to pack my things ready-to-go for any destination.Then, when I am heading off to some job or other, I simply have to pass by London, go to the storage place, open my locker and pick the right suitcase (based on climate/security/length of stay etc.). And off to Heathrow! It simply adds one item to standard pre-deployment procedure: visa; pedicure; and now, London storage.

So much has changed with the internet!  I can update my blog, communicate with friend and family through emails, Facebook, Skype... I can apply for jobs by email or, more and more, online. The only people who will miss my address are the visitors who have been staying at mine.

I look at my carpets, at the various items that have survived various disasters in my life - moving, separation, war: the salad bowl offered by my parents when they visited me in Geneva, the Cambodian carved piece of wood holding the Uzbek piece of silk; the Italian painting; the Iranian teapot; the Guinean bronze little statues... Once more I will have to pack them. Once more, I wonder where and when they will be unpacked. Under what latitude, what climate, what new life adventure.

I am already nostalgic of these objects and of the people and the places they remind me of. Can I be really free?

I had a pedicure. How could one start walking on a new life path without carefully taken care of feet?

Well, when I say "a new life" it's relative. Because it really looks like the old one: messy and busy. As I left my office on Wednesday after a wonderful farewell lunch (for some reason people I work with seem encouraged in eating more and better), with my suitcase and my flowers bouquet in my hands, I took the train to Brussels, without an hour of respite. I continued my trip, looking for friends, business contacts or my luggage scattered around Europe. I am to leave London soon but still collecting my belongings from previous movings. Business as usual.

Some terrible as well as beautiful things have happened in the past weeks. Whatever happens to us, there is hope for courageous and loving people, as this message I received proves it: I have been informing many colleagues, friends and contacts about my professional change. In return I have received wondefully supportive and beautiful messages among which one ends with: "Love and peace from Iraq".