The Caravan 2010/2011 (excepting Heidi and Valerie)
Many apologies for the unforgivable lack of communication since the first instalment of this blog: the Caravan has been frantically busy as our adventures on the Levantine Coast continue and as we all get a bit more local colour (not a great excuse).
Little has changed in terms of our schedule, though for some reason it went unmentioned in the last communication that on Mondays we go to Deir el Qamar to work with the girls in that particularly beautiful part of Lebanon, up in the mountains just south-east of Beirut. The number and nature of the girls is quite different to that of the boys in Deir el Salib: there are around 350 girls living in a home which is, by most standards, very pleasant, clean and comfortable. Their handicaps are less pronounced and their cognitive/physical abilities are, relative to the boys, impressive. They are receptive to even the most feeble efforts at French and at points I even drew one lady into a conversation about Parisian politics, before she told me that she didn’t care about France and wanted to end the conversation forthwith (“hallas”). Back to volleyball and colouring books then – there is, incidentally, evidence of some supreme, near Brazilian standard, volleyball from the girls.
Away from the schedule, we have had a brilliant time exploring some more Beirut bars. One recommendation for a particular bar (called ‘Level’) would be to turn the volume down – headaches and temporary deafness abounded the next day. Conversely, we have embraced Beirut’s classical music scene in a big way; Dr Issa is in effect our classical patron and steers us towards a concert series which occurs every Friday involving some very fine Bruch, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Mozart. Golly we’re lucky.
We went up to the hills above Beirut the weekend before last for a day out with the elderly from a Maltese home which was very lovely, gave some us the chance to converse in French, and it was of course different to spend the day with people who are fully compos mentis. Food was fantastic to boot. Later that day, for a judicious bit of variety, we went to a party called “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” which bespattered its guests in firm-clinging glitter and offered practically unlimited amounts of “candy” to the revellers. The glitter has yet to remove itself from some unfortunate victims. Music was good though.
Michel, our superb Caravan assistant (as credited in last week’s blog), organised a terrific trip to a rock-pool/beach in between Batrun and Byblos. Great lunch and some long-awaited swimming in the enduringly warm Mediterranean made it a memorable Sunday.
We must once again thank our Lebanese friends for their seemingly endless hospitality: Daniel very kindly invited us round for a copious and excellent supper, Kelly generously allowed us to watch Pulp Fiction in her house (which appears to double as a cinema), Carl at basically no notice invited us all round to watch Pan’s Labyrinth and have some supper which was much enjoyed; though on one night a week we stay at home for a Caravan Night, ‘team-bonding’.
The highlight of the last week, naturally, was Cecily’s birthday which was commemorated with an eight hour shopping trip on the actual day, an elaborate breakfast in the morning (eggs, bacon and... a chocolate cake) and a spot of 80s music in the evening (because Cecily is a massive devotee of the 80s). She self-evidently had a super cool birthday and we all wait curiously to see the results of that 8 hour dive into Beirut’s shopping district.
Last Saturday we took off to ‘Pierre and Friends’ (a beach bar) painfully aware that the beach season’s days are numbered in Lebanon. Quite an intrepid choice: like something out of that rather good Walt Whitman poem the waves crashed upon receiving shore and sprayed the drinkers with unforgiving brine. Break, break, break, on thy cold grey stones, o Sea! The weather has definitely turned here in Beirut; it is cooler, cloudier and the air conditioning is fast becoming redundant. Even the Filipino mass which we go to on Sunday morning was a little less uncomfortable; if a little more stressful given that we were required to make a stage appearance this week singing (in four voices, I might just say) Confitemini Domino and Bless the Lord, my Soul – the Filipinos appear to be very preoccupied with stage (more often than not ‘pop’) culture, and so our gesture had a perceptibly warm reception.
The work with the boys and girls continues to be extremely rewarding and really very worthwhile. It would, I think, be fair to say that each day we forge new and better bonds with those for whom we care; the positive impact of the Caravan’s work in these homes is easy to see. The Deir el Salib staff still eye me with some suspicion (this week’s choice piece of pretentious Arabic was: biraye enno fekrit Wittgenstein aan assel el leghat ktir moushawika (‘In my opinion, Wittgenstein’s theory on the origin of languages is very interesting’)), but we get on with them and Soeur Manel very well; nothing bad to report.
Apologies for the absurd length of this dispatch – no doubt if we actually write the blog on time this week, you can expect a more concise version of events. As it is, many thanks for your patience in making it this far and we hope you’ll join us next Tuesday for a résumé of this week’s excitements.
