It's a cinematographic dream of mine, again, in which I happen to be in Lebanon with a friend for holidays. Apparently their Ministry of Tourism is doing an aggressive campaign about the country, much like the Ramses case of Egypt after the bombings. So aggressive that the place is packed with flocks of tourists. We are in a linearly constructed city, shining white with its artificial squares and buildings. Our hotel is on one end of the city, followed by hundreds of small streets around the main boulevard, which leads to a huge gazebo, again followed by hundreds of small streets which finally lead to the main square at the other end of the city that we're in.
We make our way through the crowd to the massive gazebo, to have our share of treats and drinks with diplomats, fully funded by the tourism ministry, in open air. absurdly chic. Then we head to the main square that looks uber-hygienic, and find ourselves in the middle of historic buildings from various ages. There is a pantheon-esque one that claims to be the oldest, so we take a guided tour to look closer. There are 8-9 tourists taking the tour with us, all of different heights and races. One is a Lebanese girl that I have an enlightening chat with in a matter of minutes. One is a half-drunk American bully who is working real hard to be the center of attention as we climb the stairs of this building that's wearing down on the inside. When the tour is over, my friend tries to carry the bully out, who is fully drunk by now, and we eventually lose track of each other when I hear my name called out among the crowd. A couple of Turkish people I -slightly- knew are there. I don't stay with them for long, all tired and wasted under the sun, I want to go to the hotel to find my friend waiting for me there. I now know that it's a 10 min walk if I keep on straight, but I don't, and take the backstreets to get lost, as I would, if I were to actually visit Lebanon.
Under burning sun, the fatigue becomes unbearable as I walk. I almost start to crawl, eventually losing my ability to move at all. I feel as if I'm stuck, to some thread hanging down from the sky. I struggle to go forward, pushing my limits for a looong time, until I suddenly break free and start running madly. I sprint like a child, splashing water, splashing mud, without the slightest care, until I come back to the gazebo, still filled with the idle & lazy aristocracy. I can't take my eyes off of the snack plates, especially one filled with negro/oreo. When I can, I find the way to the hotel as the sun sets so perfectly over my own version of Lebanon, an imagined country.
