Under the footbridge to Dora and the conversation of the coffee trolls
Here we go again....
Yes folks, February 14th is going to be a few ticks of the clock away but here in the wilds of Lebanon it doesn't mean Valentines...
I will float back the dial to a little incident that occurred two years ago...
I was standing looking out at the sea from the 7th floor of the Gefinoor building. It was immaculate the azure of the ocean the pale hint of blue that was the sky and then...
A strange feeling that the floor had decided to jump backwards. The bowing of the glass was ominous...
I was actually pushed back...
Then came the cloud... a white billow right near a spot I had just learned was Ain el Mrese... (Facing the Mediterranean)
Next on flicked the television as workers gathered around to guess what it was. I started out claiming it might be a gas explosion because there was no black smoke. The experts here claimed C-4 or a car bomb. I laughed because Lebanon was supposed to be through with that nonsense it had been over two years since someone had been whacked.
The carnage on Arabic television blows any of the snuff or death films witnessed in secret cubbies in the USA this stuff was the real deal and LIVE…
A man was being dragged from a van where the roof had melted in… I would later learn it was one of my college’s cousins.
It would be the beginning of the end for me…
The idea of floating back and somehow getting into the rotation in the USA in any sort of normal fashion was washed out with this little carpet of thunder that rolled across the city.
Life has an alarming way of stacking events up.
After all, all of us in our little daily problems are… well …. We are only treading water.
Those first few days in kindergarten when coloring in the lines felt like it would give you a migraine…
To those days of snapping out of the dream world that you may actually get into a medical school in the US…
Those moments when you gold up and give in to a fate that superglues you to the Middle East and makes you leave everything you used as a foundation in life alone...
The rattling of fake flakey people as they smile at you while you carry them through projects to earn your degree…
The near death experiences that come with the territory of the health issues I live with…
Damn there have been a LOAD of those…
The weight of seeing the first fingerprints of your own decline…
Those desperate efforts and attempts in recovery to ensure some sort of happiness in the tangled mess you find yourself in…
The constant state of failure…. As the threads and pieces once again fray apart..
Dreams and the fuel that keeps us going (humanity calls hope)…
Does and
Eventually WILL run out…
You can only tread water for so long…
And in the end… you just give out and give up…
So here it is the blog of truth and doom....
Ringing with the answer... Though the massive majority of my dreams may be….
I often find that the bones of the desert carcass (this existence {has become}) is stuck being …
NOT DEAD YET!
I’ve been riding the bike…
Yes clad in the Armstrong live strong outfit I was passed in Dbayieh by that wonderfully affable guy Zaher… He’s Lebanon’s Number 1 Mountain Biker
He was with his Girlfriend Lina…She’s the silver medal winner in the Asian games Time Trial..
Second place * a constant place for this woman who always finishes AFTER LINA * came another Women’s Lebanon team member and her cousin…
We were clipping along beautifully…
My HR was pounding at 89-91% and they were all in deeply relaxed 70%...
But the fun of talking and kidding around made up for it across the three hours of riding.
The session would round out over an hour later as we were joined by Lebanon’s Number 1 road cyclist… a climbing specialist named John Pierre.
The conversation on the ride was wonderful as we snaked out of Dbayieh and into Jounieh and then back to Beirut…
The company was delightful but like usual…
My BG called an end to it as I ran out of candy bars to keep scarfing down…
I peeled my front tire off of what was the perfect line back down the riddled and rattled highway to find carbohydrates…
This led me to discover some of the most wonderful individuals under a bridge I have ever met…
NO THEY WERE NOT TROLLS…
They were espresso salesmen and their bus driving regulars.
Of course me in my alien outfit created quite a stir…
How much does the bike weigh?..
Wow it is light… no $$$$ it weighs less than 7kg… more like 3kg…
Then the near verbal fistfight as to the real weight of an empty gas bottle which is apparently the standard weight and measure used in the coffee serving circles of Lebanon
How much does it cost?…
Then come the guesses after I refuse to say how much I paid.
NONE OF WHICH ARE EVER
EVER
Near the ball park, zip code, or country of the actual price…
At least 4 bottles of Pineapple juice later I’m on my way…
Back home back to the little apartment
to a cleansing HOT shower after 4 hours of intimacy with the bike...
Yes folks, February 14th is going to be a few ticks of the clock away but here in the wilds of Lebanon it doesn't mean Valentines...
I will float back the dial to a little incident that occurred two years ago...
I was standing looking out at the sea from the 7th floor of the Gefinoor building. It was immaculate the azure of the ocean the pale hint of blue that was the sky and then...
A strange feeling that the floor had decided to jump backwards. The bowing of the glass was ominous...
I was actually pushed back...
Then came the cloud... a white billow right near a spot I had just learned was Ain el Mrese... (Facing the Mediterranean)
Next on flicked the television as workers gathered around to guess what it was. I started out claiming it might be a gas explosion because there was no black smoke. The experts here claimed C-4 or a car bomb. I laughed because Lebanon was supposed to be through with that nonsense it had been over two years since someone had been whacked.
The carnage on Arabic television blows any of the snuff or death films witnessed in secret cubbies in the USA this stuff was the real deal and LIVE…
A man was being dragged from a van where the roof had melted in… I would later learn it was one of my college’s cousins.
It would be the beginning of the end for me…
The idea of floating back and somehow getting into the rotation in the USA in any sort of normal fashion was washed out with this little carpet of thunder that rolled across the city.
Life has an alarming way of stacking events up.
After all, all of us in our little daily problems are… well …. We are only treading water.
Those first few days in kindergarten when coloring in the lines felt like it would give you a migraine…
To those days of snapping out of the dream world that you may actually get into a medical school in the US…
Those moments when you gold up and give in to a fate that superglues you to the Middle East and makes you leave everything you used as a foundation in life alone...
The rattling of fake flakey people as they smile at you while you carry them through projects to earn your degree…
The near death experiences that come with the territory of the health issues I live with…
Damn there have been a LOAD of those…
The weight of seeing the first fingerprints of your own decline…
Those desperate efforts and attempts in recovery to ensure some sort of happiness in the tangled mess you find yourself in…
The constant state of failure…. As the threads and pieces once again fray apart..
Dreams and the fuel that keeps us going (humanity calls hope)…
Does and
Eventually WILL run out…
You can only tread water for so long…
And in the end… you just give out and give up…
So here it is the blog of truth and doom....
Ringing with the answer... Though the massive majority of my dreams may be….
I often find that the bones of the desert carcass (this existence {has become}) is stuck being …
NOT DEAD YET!
I’ve been riding the bike…
Yes clad in the Armstrong live strong outfit I was passed in Dbayieh by that wonderfully affable guy Zaher… He’s Lebanon’s Number 1 Mountain Biker
He was with his Girlfriend Lina…She’s the silver medal winner in the Asian games Time Trial..
Second place * a constant place for this woman who always finishes AFTER LINA * came another Women’s Lebanon team member and her cousin…
We were clipping along beautifully…
My HR was pounding at 89-91% and they were all in deeply relaxed 70%...
But the fun of talking and kidding around made up for it across the three hours of riding.
The session would round out over an hour later as we were joined by Lebanon’s Number 1 road cyclist… a climbing specialist named John Pierre.
The conversation on the ride was wonderful as we snaked out of Dbayieh and into Jounieh and then back to Beirut…
The company was delightful but like usual…
My BG called an end to it as I ran out of candy bars to keep scarfing down…
I peeled my front tire off of what was the perfect line back down the riddled and rattled highway to find carbohydrates…
This led me to discover some of the most wonderful individuals under a bridge I have ever met…
NO THEY WERE NOT TROLLS…
They were espresso salesmen and their bus driving regulars.
Of course me in my alien outfit created quite a stir…
How much does the bike weigh?..
Wow it is light… no $$$$ it weighs less than 7kg… more like 3kg…
Then the near verbal fistfight as to the real weight of an empty gas bottle which is apparently the standard weight and measure used in the coffee serving circles of Lebanon
How much does it cost?…
Then come the guesses after I refuse to say how much I paid.
NONE OF WHICH ARE EVER
EVER
Near the ball park, zip code, or country of the actual price…
At least 4 bottles of Pineapple juice later I’m on my way…
Back home back to the little apartment
to a cleansing HOT shower after 4 hours of intimacy with the bike...
posted by otterinaround at 4:42 PM
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