I (sort of) get around

I know that I already mentioned the central operating principle of finding places in Beirut (and most of Lebanon): if have to ask where it is, you should have been born here. Or at least speak Arabic that's not repeating where you think you want to go over and over again in a bad accent with no other explanation. OK, perhaps they've got me on the second part.

This, rather predictably, has gotten me into situations that end in

a) bemused but empathetic eye-rolls and smiles from the cab driver once we get to where we're going

b) a taxi door being shut with just a wee bit more force than would be considered strictly necessary (or polite)

c) meandering taxi rides that don't get me where I need to go, leading to...

d) multiple taxi rides

e) hitchhiking

and finally, but only once,

f) tears.

I am happy to report that the ratio of successful arrivals to near disasters is steadily increasing. I especially thought about it tonight when I went to Beirut to have dinner with Kelly (and drop off papers to get a Syrian visa) and it took me 2 taxis, a door slam, and 3 kind people to help me get where I was going. The upside is that I now know that Haigazian University is on Hamra St, and that it's Arabic pronunciation is nowhere near what I would have imagined.

Poco a poco, or as they say here, shway, shway.