5.10.10

Irony.

I dream of a lebanese morning, when as soon as i get out of bed, i smell the turkish coffee prepared by my mother and hear the cacophony of the neighbors and friends, telling stories about "bento la abou tony" "daugher of ..."  w "marto lal leham" "and wife of..."  and then adding "bass bala zoghra kweysé marto lal leham" "but she's a good person at the end " and during their conversation they disfigured and told and retold stories about these people...

And then i go and take a tour in the neighborhood and like a charming muse her smell attracts me and dazzles me and although i promised myself "khalas bala 3ajin" "no more carbs" I fall again and ask "3ammo abou tarek" for a mankouché ... You can ask any Lebanese they well tell you, "mankouché atyab men adkham plat b mat3am 5 étoiles" "a mankouché is better than any dish in a five stars restaurants"  and especially with a Bonjus, mmm, this kind of chemical filled juice, but what the heck, we only live once. 

And then i go back home and all the crowd moved to the kitchen  trying to cook with my mom and complementing each other dishes..."ah ya samira ya maliket el beymé " " Oh Samira, You are the queen of the bemyé*"  and copying from the master, ziad el rahbany: "mahiyé el bemyé bass tkoun zabta, bet tayer el 3a2el. "

Instead i wake up alone, wait for the bus alone, jump on the bus and try to squeeze myself between 40 other people, eat a stupid croissant from the kiosk, go to my class and start hearing the beautiful intonations of DEUTSCH, followed by a pre-cooked meal for lunch...

Ironic, isn't it ?


*bemyé: Okra.  

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for posting in English too. It really helps. Loved this post as all of us who have been away have felt the same. Great going guys! :-)

    ReplyDelete

We allow comments without moderation on our blog, just because we respect your right to answer back and give your opinion, but in return we expect that you comment responsibly and respectfully.