Foray into Iraqi territory

Not exactly your typical tourist attraction...

Michaela and a friend showed me how to break into the former Iraqi Embassy to East Germany, which was apparently hastily abandoned upon reunification. Some research on the property revealed that this remains the eternal property of the People of Iraq --- in other words, on my first day in Berlin i made it to Iraqi territory. Kind of looks like Iraq too.






oh, AND we found the WMDs!

train to Berlin tomorrow

I should have titled this blog "Jerusalem Beirut Kigali Beirut Paris Berlin Rome Jerusalem (inshallah)"

I look forward to the upcoming year of sedentary lifestyle, where military occupation will once again restrict my movement and the only borders I cross are de facto ones

People are still visiting this site...

In Paris, left Beirut just in time. If I have to die young, it would be a shame for it to be outside of Palestine.

I've been staying at Emily and Tania's apartment, catching up with all sorts of old friends here - high school, college, pre-school, friends of family and friends of friends. I am exhausting myself, after six months of self-inflicted separation from all things familiar (I had initially written "social deprivation", but on second thought its a fat lie, as I don't think i've ever gone out as much as i did my last month in Kigali).

Funny (but not shocking), French people don't even know that their diplomats have been kicked out of Rwanda and that people practically spit if you say "France" in Kigali.

Other than that, I don't think I can provide my faithful readers with any sort of insight on Parisian society, their post-election trauma, or the pathetic decline of this bastion of the left. I think I'm going to buy a pair of ballerinas.

Ziyad Rahbani

I forgot to mention that I shook his hand tonight, as we stumbled upon his performance at Club Social.
I love Beirut.

BOOKSTORES!

today I spent four hours at Librairie Antoine. Halleluja!

I *missed* aimless bookshelf browsing, the smell of new books, the kid-in-a-candy-shop feeling, and of course, the clerks' "are you going to *buy* that book?" glare.

I bought Kundera and Ahdaf Soueif, an unlikely match. I refuse to pick up an Africa related book for another month. I don't have place in my suitcases for any more, but I think I'll leave Ahdaf Soueif here, I didn't like the first thirty pages.

Back in land of Fairuz, although Pink Floyd and Greek dance music are being simultaneously blasted from various apartments next door.

preliminary observations of a culture-shocked Arab:

1) I forgot that warm water can come out of a tap/ shower.
2) real mattresses!
3) Beirut is orange, I guess it's khamseen season (khamseen in English? sandstorm?)
4) I think Nancy Ajram has had yet another cheek enhancement, judging from the coke ads in the airport which I had time to study as the Lebanese security forces questioned me: "But you're born in Israel?" "No, Palestine." "I'm sorry sister, this really won't take much time, we just have to register you because of your birthplace. You know how it is. By the way, are you seeing someone?" Leave it to the Lebanese to not lose an opportunity.

Kigali goodbyes were hard, I had a nice goodbye party and then a long, long afterparty, which pretty much lasted until I got dropped off at the airport. Thanks to all my Kigali people for being so awesome.

Now in Beirut, crashing in Paige and Rasha's former apartment, where Yusuf still occupies the couch, like I've never left. He greeted me with 6 different kinds of Labneh, whic I've been sampling all morning/day. Haven't left the apartment yet, too much recovering to do, too much e-mailing to catch up on.

RIP my diary, which i left at an internet cafe somewhere in Kigali. Besides being thoroughly embarassed by the knowledge that someone has probably read it, i am also in mourning. If you know me you know I have a terrible memory. I had been keeping this diary for almost two years now and was just going to put it to rest for a new one once i got back to Palestine. I started it in the first place because everything i ever wrote on my computer kept getting erased/ crashing, it's like there's a conspiracy against me or something. This blog is probably going to get erased too. That's two years of all sorts of shit I won't remember. ARGH.

RIP my computer adaptor, blew in Kigali and is now leaving me laptopless as I go on to Beirut, Paris, Berlin and Rome. If youre in Kigali, don't use Renee the computer guy. He lies, he cheats.

RIP my Made in Hebron 10 dollar flip flops that have travelled half-way around the world for me and endured all sorts of American, African and Middle Eastern terrains and night clubs. They broke during my last week in Kigali, where I laid them to rest after wearing them nearly every day. Seriously, I put them to the ultimate test and they surpassed all expectations. Photo illustrations as soon as I figure out how to use a Mac.

The Sartrean Gaze

This summarizes my existence in Rwanda. Muzungu/ Muarabu angst.