Coffee, Bombs and Happiness

Jounieh Bay on a Sunday night

Well, I've been to Lebanon again. Some of the happiest four days of my life. I love that country and everything in it. The whole glittering country seen from the plane window, the palm trees,the Jounieh Bay at night, which is something you just can't capture in a picture, even subtle difference between a night club and a super night club (where the Russian, Romanian and Moldovan girls actually "work", Bassem told me), the way they called this huge super night club Hipopotame (i'm really sorry I missed the 100 chances to take a picture of it), the strong huge thunder over the sea, the little curly haired children who only speak French or English and no Arabic, the beach, although it's full of garbage all the time and nobody cares about that, the coffeshop in Byblos old souk where they actually serve real coffee instead of Nescafe 3 in 1 and where you can take a book from the shelf and read a few things while you're drinking your cappuccino and eat your sandwich, the hotel manager who brings you a glass of his own wine just to ask you for an opinion and doesn't get angry when you say it's crap and it's almost vinegar.


Most of all I love the people. Even when they're a bit upset and they tell you about the cluster bombs left behind unexploded by the 2006 war. Struggling to be happy. No, not to survive among the bombings and protests and snipers, but to actually be happy among these things. Something that people coming from countries like mine, where there hasn't been any turmoil for a long time, would find difficult to understand.

I got that feeling from a few friends I went out with on Saturday night. I had a terrible cold and didn't say much but I listened a lot.
Our meeting was the day after a bomb went off on a busy bridge at a morning rush hour. The car bomb killed one of Lebanon's top terrorism investigators who was probing assassinations of prominent anti-Syrian figures and a series of other attacks in recent years. Wissam Eid had survived two previous assassination attempts. Not this one. The attack also killed his bodyguard and three passers-by and wounded 37 people. At least these are the official numbers.

My friend, Lina, who's been covering the war in Lebanon for Reuters was upset. The Lebanese are used to political assassinations. „But here, there was a very thin line between assassination and terrorism. One of the people who died was going to work and realized he had forgotten his sandwich at home. He went back to get it.” Lina's Beirut is pure chaos and she acts like she's almost proud of it. Most Lebanese probably act the same. They are struggling to be happy in that chaos. They go out, they meet in coffee shops. „Oh, there's smoke! Nooo, not today, not when we are going out!”, my Lina goes.

My question makes Lina and her friends smile. I never saw on any news wire any news story about the Lebanese security forces actually arresting somebody for a car bombing.”That's because they never do. Whoever sticks his head out of the crowd gets killed”.