reality check

Today, I spent the day sunbathing on the rooftop swimming pool of the gym near my house. From the roof, you can look out over Ras Al Nab’a below, but it is quiet for the moment. All afternoon, I lay under that glorious sun and debated about ‘what will happen next’, or how what has already happened should be understood, while the speakers around the terrace alternated between Siniora’s speech and house music.

Imagine the sheer surreality of the scene: sunbathing listening adds for the upcoming concert of "Ibitha’s fifth best DJ" on a building that had been sprayed with stray bullets only 36 hours before and amongst whispers of bold warnings of being on the precipice of a war. A paradox, yes. But not so uncommon in there parts; really, a very Lebanese scene.

The Lebanese: always eager for momentary amnesia, for sweet little luxuries that soothe the burns of a politics gone haywire. That terrace was a microcosm of that Lebaneseness that receives both admiration and ridicule: the ability to cover up blood-shed and chaos with a bikini and an almaza ('the diamond', Lebanon's national brew).

Indeed, it is a very appealing way to deal in difficult times. I just can't help wondering to what extent such feigned innocence, and that on my part as well as a foreigner reaping the luxuries of a country torn across class and religious lines, does not in fact contribute to the problems. Like trying to treat bi-polar personality disorder with memory-loss tablets.