It's called shitta for a reason and other tidbits

Saturday night we had the mother of all rainstorms, minus the edifice-shaking thunder and lightning. Around nine o'clock I was sitting on my (cold) marble counter eating some Lebanese stew when I heard the skies open and water rush onto the city of Beirut. Curious, I walked a few steps to the bamboo room to take a peak at the goings on outside. (It is called the bamboo room because there is bamboo on the ceiling. Pictures to follow prior to the millenium.) Needless to say, I was grateful to be indoors because the rain was falling harder than I have ever seen before. Although it was night, I was able to make out the rain intensity thanks to the spotlights on the American University of Beirut's (AUB) belltower. It looked like buckets were being poured from the heavens as the water gushed from the cloud cover. I watched for about five minutes and returned to my stew that had gotten cold. (Don't worry I have a handy-dandy single burner to heat up my food. Oh yes, I am getting a kitchen one burner at a time!)

For some reason the walls in my room magnified the sound of the rainbombs (raindrops is too dainty of a term). Sleeping through the surround-sound of the storm did not make for easy sleeping and I had wierd dreams about cats at my friend Kelsey's house. (I am pretty sure Kelsey does not have a single cat; I think cats were on my mind because earlier in the evening I wondered what the city's million stray cats were doing to stay out of the weather. Yes, I wanted to bring one or five home with me.) During the dream I envisioned a leaky roof and shortly thereafter I woke up. At five thirty in the morning the rain was still as loud and strong as it was when I ate dinner. It had not stopped. I remembered my dream and decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to see if I had any leaks. After all, I do live on the top floor. Lo and behold, it turns out that my dream was indeed visionary because there was a river of water on the bamboo room's floor. My first thought was that one of the gigantic windows was not fully closed. Then I heard the drips. Oh no, this amazon came from the ceiling. I grabbed the mop and a bucket, and cleaned the floor, and then precariously placed my little red bucket to catch the rain on the inside of my apartment. I went back to bed, and woke up at 7:30, only to find another little stream had developed from a new spot while I was sleeping.

Fortunately the storm had stopped by the time I woke up. The sun was brilliant, and the sky was clearer than I had ever seen it in Bierut. (There is a pollution issue.) It didn't last, and it was raining again in a couple of hours, but just not as strong. It is still a little rainy, but definitely not as torrential.

Now for the tidbits:
1. Arabic words that make me giggle: shitta = rain; "key fuk" = "how are you" (to a male); ma'ass = scissors.

2. I have seen a few movies since I have been here, of course they are delayed. Some theaters are showing "Over Her Dead Body" and I believe that one is already on dvd in the states. Some movies are not that delayed, however. The best thing about the cinema is that it only costs about $6. I haven't payed that little for an evening film since high school. Plus you can bring in your take out meals. Plus it is all assigned seating. Yep, that means when Harry Potter 6 comes out I will only have to buy my ticket early to get the good seats. No need to elbow people for the best seats.

3. Lebanon is a cash-based society, and while the country has its own currency US dollars are widely accepted. I have the Lebanese currency, and the conversion down pretty well, but I get a little flumoxed at the bakery when people hand me a mix of currencies and I have to figure it all out. It seems that people prefer to carry the American cash, and the most popular denomination: the $100 bill. I have never seen so many grinning benjamins in my whole entire life. People consistently pay for their baked goods with one hundred dollar bills. Maybe it is just me, but I always feel a little awkward carrying large sums of cash, especially in large notes. Maybe I feel that if the bills are smaller, no one will know what I have (which never is a lot). Call me crazy, but I am good with $4o max in my wallet. Any more makes me nervous. Going to the cash machine is pretty interesting too, because you know how the withdrawal selections usually start at $20 and then go up? Here, they start at $100. I feels so conspicuous getting money out. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one sees me pull a $100 bill from the machine. The funny thing is, I am only pulling $100, and everyone else is taking a whole lot more. I have hung out with folks carrying an alarmingly high amount of dough. It's like I'm hanging out with drug dealers or the mafia. Don't worry, I'm not. It's just the society.

4. Lebanon is not a country filled with opium addicts. While I can't say that there isn't one or two hiding out somewhere, my first impressions of the country was that there was a good deal of opium getting smoked, and in public to boot. The misconception comes from the nargeleh or hubbly bubbly pipes/bongs/weird things with hoses that are ever present on sidewalks, cafes, and peoples' houses. Hubbly bubbly is some wierd flavored tobacco that gets inhaled through steam...or at least that's what I've been able to gather from watching people smoke it. I must say that it isn't a very attractive habit. It smells better than cigars, pipes, and/or cigarettes, but the pipe/hose hanging out of people's mouths is a little odd. Pictures to follow...you know whenever I can get things to work.