I mentioned previously that I would write more about the Orange House. I suppose it was about two years ago when I first heard someone mention it. I can’t remember who or where, but I can remember the feeling. It was as if I’d walked into the room when something really secret was being discussed. I felt awkward, like an eavesdropper. Innocently caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and wishing I wasn’t there.
Now I can, in some ways, understand the secretiveness. My schema kicks in and I draw parallels with the French Résistance movement during the 2nd World War. Letting the “wrong” person have important information at that time could have meant the difference between life and death. Well, we’re not talking life and death here, but a degree of secretiveness is in order.
The ladies of the Orange House do have a mission. Mona and Habiba have dedicated their lives to ensuring the propagation of the turtle population that comes annually to revisit their natal beaches. It’s their passion, and they have a refreshing, no nonsense approach to it. Being able to visit and share in their zeal for this worthy cause is a real privilege. If you’re a cat lover you’ll understand what I’m trying to say. You know how, when you want your cat to snuggle up next to you on the bed, they look at you and then walk away? There’s no doubt that they do need you, and at other times they will come and invade your space totally; usually for me when I have a pile of work and they want to sit right in the middle of it! It’s that kind of relationship that Mona and Habiba have with their guests. They DO want people to come, they need them to help finance their project, but they want to do the choosing…
I think taking this attitude is a necessary step for them. Lebanon is an unusual place; you can only really understand it if you live here. People are both highly sophisticated and uneducated at the same time. Does that make sense? I don’t want to offend - by uneducated I don’t mean book learning. I’m talking about “social” or “global” education. In fact, as far as book learning goes, I’ve met more highly educated people here than I ever did in my home country of England. I feel I can reflect on Lebanon in this way because I have lived more than half my life here. Someone once quipped that I was, “Lebanese by osmosis!” Eco-education is probably lowest on the list; hence the need to protect the Orange House.
We are really spoilt living in Lebanon. Attention is paid to our every need, we are totally pampered. Wherever you go there are armies of parking attendants ready to valet park your car. Scores of “men in green” patrol the streets picking up the rubbish that is thrown, indiscriminately (back to that eco-education bit) from cars and next to dumpsters. Even the bathrooms in McDonald’s sparkle in a way they never do in the UK. People expect, and get, everything picked up and/or cleaned for them. So, what am I talking about this for when I promised the low-down on the Orange House? Well, it’s all interconnected. These are the exact reasons why the ladies are so particular about who comes and stays.
Life at the Orange House is basic. Clean, but basic. There’s no one to open the gate when you arrive, you have to do that yourself. Your bags are your business, no valet parking here! When the electricity is off, it’s off; apart from a few hours in the evening when the generator is turned on. The bedrooms and bathroom are clean and simple; no frilly extras. You can use the kitchen to cook, but you have to clean up after yourself. No pampering here! Noisy people and children are not appreciated; they would unbalance the delicate “eco-system.”
The one “service” provided is breakfast. During the summer months, that takes place after the hour long walk along the beach searching for and recording information on the new nests that have appeared overnight and cleaning up the inevitable rubbish that blows onto the dunes. Breakfast is a mouth watering time. I’m not referring to the food – the simple country fare is a real feast, though – I’m talking about the conversation. You meet the most interesting and enjoyable people at the Orange House.
So, the Orange House is like an oasis for Charles and I. It’s a place that lets you forget the frustrations of life here. It’s charming, tranquil, and has a “sophistication” of its own. Please, don’t pass it on…
Now I can, in some ways, understand the secretiveness. My schema kicks in and I draw parallels with the French Résistance movement during the 2nd World War. Letting the “wrong” person have important information at that time could have meant the difference between life and death. Well, we’re not talking life and death here, but a degree of secretiveness is in order.
The ladies of the Orange House do have a mission. Mona and Habiba have dedicated their lives to ensuring the propagation of the turtle population that comes annually to revisit their natal beaches. It’s their passion, and they have a refreshing, no nonsense approach to it. Being able to visit and share in their zeal for this worthy cause is a real privilege. If you’re a cat lover you’ll understand what I’m trying to say. You know how, when you want your cat to snuggle up next to you on the bed, they look at you and then walk away? There’s no doubt that they do need you, and at other times they will come and invade your space totally; usually for me when I have a pile of work and they want to sit right in the middle of it! It’s that kind of relationship that Mona and Habiba have with their guests. They DO want people to come, they need them to help finance their project, but they want to do the choosing…
I think taking this attitude is a necessary step for them. Lebanon is an unusual place; you can only really understand it if you live here. People are both highly sophisticated and uneducated at the same time. Does that make sense? I don’t want to offend - by uneducated I don’t mean book learning. I’m talking about “social” or “global” education. In fact, as far as book learning goes, I’ve met more highly educated people here than I ever did in my home country of England. I feel I can reflect on Lebanon in this way because I have lived more than half my life here. Someone once quipped that I was, “Lebanese by osmosis!” Eco-education is probably lowest on the list; hence the need to protect the Orange House.We are really spoilt living in Lebanon. Attention is paid to our every need, we are totally pampered. Wherever you go there are armies of parking attendants ready to valet park your car. Scores of “men in green” patrol the streets picking up the rubbish that is thrown, indiscriminately (back to that eco-education bit) from cars and next to dumpsters. Even the bathrooms in McDonald’s sparkle in a way they never do in the UK. People expect, and get, everything picked up and/or cleaned for them. So, what am I talking about this for when I promised the low-down on the Orange House? Well, it’s all interconnected. These are the exact reasons why the ladies are so particular about who comes and stays.
Life at the Orange House is basic. Clean, but basic. There’s no one to open the gate when you arrive, you have to do that yourself. Your bags are your business, no valet parking here! When the electricity is off, it’s off; apart from a few hours in the evening when the generator is turned on. The bedrooms and bathroom are clean and simple; no frilly extras. You can use the kitchen to cook, but you have to clean up after yourself. No pampering here! Noisy people and children are not appreciated; they would unbalance the delicate “eco-system.”
The one “service” provided is breakfast. During the summer months, that takes place after the hour long walk along the beach searching for and recording information on the new nests that have appeared overnight and cleaning up the inevitable rubbish that blows onto the dunes. Breakfast is a mouth watering time. I’m not referring to the food – the simple country fare is a real feast, though – I’m talking about the conversation. You meet the most interesting and enjoyable people at the Orange House.
So, the Orange House is like an oasis for Charles and I. It’s a place that lets you forget the frustrations of life here. It’s charming, tranquil, and has a “sophistication” of its own. Please, don’t pass it on…
1 comment:
I think on the long run TCK is not a good thing. The disadvantages outweigh the advantages. No culture = no identity. You've got to stick to one, at least for the first 18 years of your life I think. Having that said, I realize that I am doing my children a disservice. On the other hand, maybe they will have an advantage later on in life over non-TCK kids in this world that is forever more globalizing.
BTW; did you know the Orange House is called Orange House becuase of the Dutch UNifillers that used to hang around there? Orange being the national color of Holland
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