May 10, 2015: In Lebanon by myself

Dear L*,

The chocolate biscuits that I am at present munching have a Lebanese flavor to them, they crumble entirely with just a bite. Are you eating at the moment too? Perhaps you have made yourself one of those ketchup pickle cheese sandwiches, haven’t you?

I went to the beach by myself today, carried solely by my polished black car. I parked away from the crammed parking area before the entrance to the free beach in Byblos, and walked to where the sand is. It was a not so familiar ride. My parents had forewarned me about the new traffic law. “Don’t speed too much, don’t talk on the phone while you’re driving, never send anything flying out of the car window, and most of all, no “betweens”” my father said. All in all, I drove very calmly, as a fine could cost double, triple, or quadruple the minimum wage. Perhaps this is what the guy, Steve, who is indisputably part of the beach in Byblos, earns. He goes in and out of the foreground at all seasons, unchangeable, except for his tattoos, swirls on one arm and a row on the upper. Now he has a wrap around bracelet on his thigh. My sister told me that she finds it nice. I find it interesting, but just as a sticker. I like fads only when they can be erased without a single trace.

And as I contemplated the regular scene, a Spanish speaking lady with five children, not all her own, made a grand entrance. She roared at her children, with swift Spanish that made her sound like a super mom. At one instance, she told one of the little boys in English, because obviously she had decided to take children of friends on a trip too: “I want us to calm down and to enjoy. I want to enjoy, and I want you to have fun. Go play and do not cause any trouble!” She sounded not just like a super mom, but like a sensational woman with a considerable past.

Later I also spent time with my sister. We went window shopping and we decided to have sushi on an other day.

I miss you. I miss you so much, and in between the choosing and the picking and the deciding, I yearn for your presence and for my life in Berlin with you. If only I could drive from the sand to our house, several times today I imagined.

P

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