No. 3: Leaving for Lebanon in 45 min
Right. So, as we were landing in Cyprus at sunset yesterday evening, saw this beautiful island in it's glory. Pulled out my camera a little too late, but did manage a photo, which I will post later.
The topography of this place, from the sky, is a little surprising as it looks like vast expanses of dessert and then miniature explosions of massive green mountains, as though Scotland dropped in, didn't particularly like what it saw, left some footprints and took off across the waters.
On the ground, this place is the Gaza Strip; the houses, the people, the streets, even the toilettes! Food is excellent, although dripping with salt in the form of sweat dropping off my lips and on to the food. No matter who you are, you are soaking through your shirts; smart that I've brought 7 pairs of jeans with me. My aunt (a doctor) called me and told me to keep drinking mineral water or water with a little bit of salt in it, so as to avoid dehydration. (Imagine the stupidity of THAT in a war zone?)
Note: Am writing this from a machine that looks lke a karaoke thing, so again forgive the poor syntax and spelling. I am at the hotel across the street from our, which is booked only for Canadian officials. This place is much nicer as it has more personality...little Brit boy seated next to me, yelling incoherent English at PHOTO PLAY, the only arcade game here, which he is obviously losing. He's about 6 and beautiful (I want one).
- None of the Cypriot men wear shirts. This can be really nice, but when it's not...it causes a form of visual trauma.
So, you want to know about Lebanon, I presume? I am being picked up by the military convoy in approx 25 minutes. Am nervous and excited and sad, all on behalf of my mum...not scared for myself, like I am for her. For those of you who have my home number, I ask that you please maybe tag team one another and keep ringing my mum until am home and safe. Bizarre what we think of and how we react when facing a situation such as this, strange that am not giving a shit about myself, but moreso about mum.
That's it; keep an eye on the news, I would neither 'collateral' nor 'civilian', but rather 'Canadian victim'.
The topography of this place, from the sky, is a little surprising as it looks like vast expanses of dessert and then miniature explosions of massive green mountains, as though Scotland dropped in, didn't particularly like what it saw, left some footprints and took off across the waters.
On the ground, this place is the Gaza Strip; the houses, the people, the streets, even the toilettes! Food is excellent, although dripping with salt in the form of sweat dropping off my lips and on to the food. No matter who you are, you are soaking through your shirts; smart that I've brought 7 pairs of jeans with me. My aunt (a doctor) called me and told me to keep drinking mineral water or water with a little bit of salt in it, so as to avoid dehydration. (Imagine the stupidity of THAT in a war zone?)
Note: Am writing this from a machine that looks lke a karaoke thing, so again forgive the poor syntax and spelling. I am at the hotel across the street from our, which is booked only for Canadian officials. This place is much nicer as it has more personality...little Brit boy seated next to me, yelling incoherent English at PHOTO PLAY, the only arcade game here, which he is obviously losing. He's about 6 and beautiful (I want one).
- None of the Cypriot men wear shirts. This can be really nice, but when it's not...it causes a form of visual trauma.
So, you want to know about Lebanon, I presume? I am being picked up by the military convoy in approx 25 minutes. Am nervous and excited and sad, all on behalf of my mum...not scared for myself, like I am for her. For those of you who have my home number, I ask that you please maybe tag team one another and keep ringing my mum until am home and safe. Bizarre what we think of and how we react when facing a situation such as this, strange that am not giving a shit about myself, but moreso about mum.
That's it; keep an eye on the news, I would neither 'collateral' nor 'civilian', but rather 'Canadian victim'.
Labels: Beirut 2006, Travel
posted by just a girl at 4:17 AM
2 Comments:
Cypriots don't believe in clothes.
Well, maybe underwear.
My flatmate here in England romps around in his skivvies all the time.
No shame. no shame...
But that's ok. It means I can romp around in my tankini. w00t.
stay safe babes. (and here i am worrying about flying out of london... yeesh!)
~Ally (of GBnet infamy)
Ally, what a great and sweet and fun surprise it was for me to see your name pop up, heh!
Thank you for commenting and sending me a laugh. En route out of Beirut and into Dubai, my eyes bled because of the too many men not dressed and should be dressed scenario, heh!
I feel your pain re your roomie. Tankini's rock.
Double woot, love.
xoxo
m
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