circles

When you stand at a particular spot in the early afternoon near the large four columns in the middle of the Roman ruins that are located two hours outside of Beirut, you can hear the azaan from all corners. There are about three different calls to prayer from the mosques in the small town surrounding the ruins, and fortunately for me, I could hear them echoing all around me as I stood at one of the higher points of the ruins overlooking the towns and landscape of the Bekaa valley. The ruins of a temple and what was once called a holy city, are named Baalbek (one meaning: "God of the Bekaa") but the place bears many names, including Heliopolis. The multiple names aren't surprising given that Baalbek has seen invasion and visitors from multiple places, including Phoenicians, Assyrians, Alexander the Great, Egyptians, Romans, Umayyads, and Ottoman Turks. Oddly enough, throughout all this time, Baalbek was considered a site for holy buildings by polytheistic religions, Christians, Jews and Muslims. Funny that some would destroy the buildings and recapture it for their god. :) I am amazed, however, by how relatively well it has withstood the test of time and people. One can still picture the full staircase that serves as the entrance to the 'city', the arches lining the enclosure of the place, the large columns that guard the entrance to the temple, and the massive courtyard that probably served as a socializing ground for so many (interesting fact: prostitution had been extremely popular in Baalbek). I have to admit, my distant interest in archeology was rekindled when looking at the intricate carvings, architecture and design of the ruins. If it's any indication, we were all so mesmerized by the beauty and sheer size of Baalbek that we easily spent two hours walking around in the scorching heat.

A five minute walk from Baalbek, we hit up a small store for chwarma, falafels, and ice cream. Here, potatoes are pretty popular (potatoes are called 'batata' in Arabic which is what they are called in Gujarati. But not in Urdu), and usually if you order a chwarma sandwich, it comes with fries inside! Yum. There was also a few stores and a stand for tourists like us...I splurged and bought something I have been wanting for a very long time and am very excited to show people when I go back home. I also wanted to ride one of the camels walking up the street but N said they cost too much, so I just took a picture instead.

(I forgot to mention a museum/gift shop dedicated to hezb. right outside of Baalbek. I am going to use one of the most vague and least original descriptions ever: it was interesting. I personally think it spoiled the entire effect of Baalbek but it was fun to see it nonetheless. Actually, as we neared Baalbek, there were many posters of nasr. and the martyrs lining polls and shops on the streets we drove by which was actually pretty fascinating to see. It really takes getting out of a major city to understand the different layers of this country, of any country rather.)

On our way back, we stopped by one of the beautiful blue mosques near the ruins, which had apparently been built or designed by Iranians. Honestly, I can't remember if they just left their mark there. Minus the political propaganda immediately outside the mosque, the inside was beautiful, covered high with mirrors and Quranic verses on the walls. It was quite memorable, really.

To be honest, I couldn't help but compare the journey from Beirut to Baalbek to driving from south California to Coalinga. Part of it had to do with the landscape that resembled the fields and hills surrounding Coalinga eerily well. But another part of it had to do with political landscape and the stark difference between ambiguity and complex affiliations in a big city to strong and homogenous ideas in a small town. It doesn't really require many steps from your own doorway to witness some things.

And then it was back to Beirut where I could hear the cars honking, the traffic in its chaotic and usual jam even for a Sunday evening, people crossing lazily through the streets right and left, and of course, the big beautiful blue sea that greeted us with a nice sunset.

God bless cities for the variety of culture they offer among all the chaos. I went to a poetry reading last night in a small cafe in Hamra, which nostalgically took me back to paces and olde club. Most of the poems were unfortunately laden with themes and images of death, war, poverty and the absence of God. But there were also poems about love, and that says something too.

Someone once told me that the best blog posts are 500-700 words long. This post has exceeded its limits and doesn't stand a chance of being of the best posts now, but let me lengthen it just a bit more with a quote I read on a menu in Gemmaizeh the other night:

"Say hello forty times to the house where you have had salt once."