I have been inside for a week, but I went out yesterday. I needed to get something from the phone shop near us, but I went to the farther away one to force a walk. When I was done and as I was leaving the shop, I spotted a bus coming our way, it had number 15 on. I remembered from back in the days that this used to be the one that goes to the seaside. I crossed to the other side of the road, and hopped on in it. I handed out a 100.000 L.L. note, having no idea what the tariff is these days. The driver handed me back 30.000 L.L. so 70.000 L.L. then, the equivalent of 1.000 L.L. back in the days. I am still not able to fathom most changes, this was another one to try to grasp. I asked the driver how are the people making do. He started opening up about the days and his own effort to make change. He told me that he wasn't a driver by trade, that he was a homeopathic doctor. He told me about his repeated efforts with a small group to try and get his natural immunity herbal "vaccine" to the people through the health municipality, to no avail. I was interested in the conversation, but then I had to get off his bus, he was finished for the day, so I had to exchange buses. I took another 15 bus right where we stopped at the Dora roundabout. I asked this driver about the time the last bus heads back from the Manara area these days, I was considering staying there for a little walk on the promenade, the weather was beautiful, and it was just before sunset. He said around 8:00 - 8:30, it was still 5:50, so I thought I might have gotten myself a plan. A spontaneous little outing, a break from home and the tiny space, and a solace for my weary mind through exposure to all sorts of stimulants. We left the roundabout immediately, the driving pace was way too slow though, but I enjoyed it. I was looking out the window, taking everything in; the roads, the people, the cars, the walker-boy's. Many changes noticed, but also many things remained the same. There was no escaping the memories and flash backs, my days with Yasmina and Chris in the city have simply been so many...
The heaviness I used to see in people's faces and their bodies back in the days from system enslavement is the same now. But I was curious to learn more, considering all the happenings of late, and the bus rides provides exactly that kind of "info". Various people from different ages and backgrounds hopping on and off so frequently, engaging in all sorts of small talk with the drivers and the other passengers. Some of them know each other, many total strangers, but they speak away all the same. They don't just converse for the sake of filling up space, they do it as though it's the air they rely on for their survival. Perhaps it's the talking that's keeping these people holding on and pushing through. Expressing themselves, being heard and received, and their agony, humor, or worry reciprocated. There used to be a middle class back in the days, now only the privileged and the unprivileged. I belong to the latter category now, like the majority of the bus users, minus the privilege of belonging to any social group at all, or the luxury of genuine connection. Still I was filled with gratitude, for I haven't become a system slave (yet), I was still overriding the matrix, and I still kept my freedom, despite all. I was still feeling heavy with the inner turmoils I was carrying, but being around total strangers inside a moving vehicle in Beirut streets did make me feel somewhat at peace, and a little bit less lonely.
By the time we got to the beautiful spot I usually like to start my walking, I had already taken the whole scene in, as the driving was way too slow with many stops. I think they try to save petrol and wait for new passengers, also keep to their timely schedule. I thought I would just stay inside the bus and head back home in the same one, for by then I felt like I've gotten the exposure I wanted to get from the promenade. I also had my flip flops on which wouldn't have been practical for a walk. But I was checking all the spots and the areas I usually enjoy during my walk, where I would usually speed up, where I would slow down, and where I sit on the bench for a break or after I'm done. It has all remained the same except for few new benches that were put up. I took note of everything and I made plans for a proper jog in the near future, I thought that perhaps I could bring my jogging days back. I would do with open spaces and steady healthy movement. I just missed Yasmina and Chris so much, there has been way too many memories of us there, starting off with the Yasmina's bike rides when she was as little as 3 years old, just her and I, and later on, the many walks and talks, and after then, Chris joining the tribe. The same with the beach at Ramlet El Bayda, Chris's birthdays, and that special one when I took us to Baalbeck in the morning, and back to the beach in the afternoon to cut the cake, it was what he used to love. Yasmina's piggy bank rides, Chris's trouble with the wet sand on his feet, their excitement, Yasmina's goofiness, my love. My love...
My heart used to be so swollen with so much love and gratitude, I used to feel like I had owned the whole world. There was nothing I needed outside of us and our small little, simple, private life together. With our preferences and small / big enjoyments, ambitions and dreams.
Once I make the walk again there on my own, I would have turned another page. It is now due, and much more, for some healing progress, but one step at a time. I'm almost continuously overwhelmed since I was back to the city.
On the way back, we were stopped in Dekwaneh by a group of people who were protesting earlier against Israel and the current war. About 10 people or more hopped on, all wearing the Palestenian scarf, some white and black, some red and black, and carrying the flags... They weren't the ordinary unprivileged people you'd expect, those were the so called "educated", NGO, privileged, identity confused, typical phoney and fake Lebanese people that I detested.
I got off the bus 3 minutes later thankfully, at the supermarket close by, I bought some fruits and headed back home. It was night time by then and relatively quiet, I couldn't have asked for more.
I've been listening to The Cranberries lately, I always wanted to discover their songs, but there just hasn't been a right moment, until recently. Many of their songs hit home. Goose bumps action is on point this morning as I listen to their Ode To My Family, Zombie, and Dreams...
I finally managed to get avocado's! How can a fruit (vegetable) carry so much emotional weight is beyond me. But that's just how I am, sentimental and stupid. I had missed Yasmina so much that I couldn't bring myself to eat avocados without her. Last time we were having them was in spring time when she was still visiting me in Fanar and sometimes staying over. I would get her to buy me some ripe ones with her as the shops close by almost never had them. Our many memories over the years, season in season out, making, eating, and salivating over our favorite avocado rice dishes, avocado toasts, avocado smoothies, avodado, banana and honey, her famous green mushed avocado rice, my favorite cane sugar avocado scooping....
It's going to be another new page turned as I eat my first avocado in a while later today. I'm sick, so very sick.
It's a stormy day, I hope the rain washes away more pain. I hope I the thunder does some kind of magic getting me out of my stupid sentimentality.
After all that has been said and done, there's nothing left now but hopes and wishes!...
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