Fall Seven Times and Stand Up Eight

Fall seven times and stand up eight – Japanese proverb

So yesterday was a very mixed bundle. Since, as will soon become apparent, the number seven was key, I’ll start by giving seven examples of the emotional roller coaster ride I went on in the space of a day.

1) The day began terribly. Everitte and I finally made it to the Indian Embassy, after two mornings spent trying to find it last week and failing miserably, only to be told that they would not issue us with a tourist visa for our trip, which is in less than a month, because we don’t have residency permits.

2) We came home and spent several hours looking on the internet for possible solutions, stressed because we had already spent over $300 each on non-refundable flights and apparently shipping passports across international borders to get visas elsewhere is very difficult and possibly illegal. I was running late for my internship at the newspaper by this point, and had an article due in a few hours, and ended up screaming at poor Everitte like a demented harpy-woman, which unsurprisingly lead to a fight. It was raining and life seemed like too much hard work. Continue reading

Beirut Snapshots: baby versus dog, a burning car and the post office saga continues

Over the last week my life has suddenly got about three times as busy. I’ve gone from working for Everitte, helping to answer his emails and deal with commissions for his calligraphy, a job which clearly left me with far too much time on my hands – as evidenced by my taking an entire day to shoddily sew one giant pair of trousers out of two perfectly good, reasonably sized pairs:

And by my spending another whole day last month making my own Christmas decorations for our tiny Christmas tree: Continue reading

Beirut Snapshots: my grown-up “son” and the epic battle with Libanpost

Yesterday Everitte and I travelled across town to General Security, to leave our passports for visa renewal. While the process is a lot simpler than it was in Damascus (due mostly to the Lebanese having a fairly good concept of how queuing works!) it still involves a fair degree of red tape such as having various forms signed in triplicate by ‘The Chief of Arabs’, who has own special uniform covered in lots of shiny badges. While waiting in a queue on the third floor yesterday a little old lady came up to us and speaking in French said to me ‘He’s very slow – change queues, change queues!’ We smiled at her and she touched my cheek and said ‘You’re very pretty’ then she looked at Everitte standing next to me and said ‘Ah, and is this your son?’. So… very pretty but also very old then, if at 24 I look capable of having a 23-year-old son! Continue reading