Matt's 18th Birthday

Matt turned 18 this month. A real milestone! Last year at school, last year (for a while) in Lebanon, last few months living at home… The list could go on but as a mum I get a bit depressed!

Matt and I during his birthday lunch at his grandparent's

So, celebrating in Lebanon always means lots of food and the family around. Birthdays are no exception.

We have to begin with the "drink" complete wth kabbis, a lemon freshly picked from the tree is the garden, olives (of course), carrot sticks, stuffed and pickled eggplant, etc. Notice the obligatory glasses of arak!

Once we get to the table it has to be the tabboule and hommus that take centre stage. Anyone who knows anything about eating in Lebanon would know that each "Teta" (grandmother) takes great pride in her tabboule. All sons vow that, "Nobody's tabboule tastes as good as mum's!" And I know they're all right... As it happens, Matt's teta also makes her own hommus. This photo doesn't do it justice, it is a much richer colour than this; but you get the idea.

We were treated to a meal of fried fish and kibbe bi sanniyeh (a meat cake with an onion filling in the centre). There was easily enough food for at least ten, needless to say we were just five.

That's about right as far as meals in Lebanon go. You show the value of your guests (even if it's all in the family) by the amount of food piled high on the tables. But don't worry, none if it is wasted as leftovers are common fare on Mondays.

The plate next to the fish is filled with fried Arabic bread. It's the yummiest thing and we always come and steal pieces from the table before it's time to eat. The bowl on the right contains "tarratole" which is a sauce to accompany the fish made from PLENTY of garlic and sesame paste.

No birthday is complete without a cake. In this case it was a juicy strawberry tart. A good choice for such an important occasion.

Charles then poured the champagne to accompany the strawberry tart and to wish Matt a happy birthday. I know it's the old cliche, "It only seems like yesterday..." but it's true. I just don't know where these 18 years have gone. All those people who told me to, "Enjoy" those sleepless nights and teething rashes; perhaps they had a point. Of course, you can't see it at the time. Like most words of wisdom, they only make sense with hindsight.

Well, getting up from the table isn't always easy, but the smell of the coffee helps.

Well, Sacha! I hope you enjoy this because it's taken me more than an hour to fiddle with the darn photos and the uploading and the positioning, etc, etc.

Mundane? Yes, Please!

Cars covered by blue sheets and the white forensic tent on the bomb site.

Sometimes we want to run from the mundane. Boredom is the enemy, we need excitement! Well, living in Lebanon I have to say I rarely feel that. Even in “peaceful” times life seldom gets boring. Just driving can give you an adrenalin rush a minute…

The other morning, the day after the most recent bombing that killed a highly ranked member of the ISF, we left to drive down from our home in Mansourieh to school in Manara. At that time, 6:45, it’s usually a 20 minute journey. So, just like every day, we take the short-cut through the factory; the road that Gebran Tueini was assassinated on. Getting to the bottom of the valley our regular road is barred by large concrete blocks. Apparently, the torrential rain of the previous 24 hours had dislodged some boulders and they were now precariously balanced, ready to flatten an unsuspecting car at any moment. OK, no problem. We go to the highway that leads to Hazmieh. We want to take the road that goes down to Furn el Chebbak. NO. Not today. That road is closed because it is part of the bomb site. No problem! Next choice, go further up into Hazmieh and join the highway. At last, we get onto the highway we should have been happily motoring along about 10 minutes ago.

What’s that? Just up ahead the road is practically blocked by a large white sheet flapping angrily in the strong wind. That “sheet” was actually the forensic tent that had been set up over the bomb area and had been blown away itself by the continuing storm.

At this point I turn to Charles and remark, “Well, that’s enough excitement for one morning, can we just get to school now?” You see, in Lebanon we ache for the mundane. So, next time you’re wishing life just had that extra something, don’t be too ready to overlook the beauty of the ordinary!