A Smoking Welcome - by Emilie

My luggage and I glided out of customs having nothing to declare but the sheer joy of hearing Arabic, French and above all grammatically correct English around me. As I got closer and closer to the exit door, I found myself dishing out unsolicited “marhabas” while handing my Lebanese passport with a smile, happy to keep my shoes on for a change.

For those of you suffering from constant city stress and noise, Beirut International Airport was the place to be. In contrast to the usual crowds' shrieks assaulting my ears, the occasional rebellious toddler infiltrating into the passenger camp sprinting towards his father and nearly knocking me out in the process, the olfactory attack of endless bouquets and the carts’ progressive speed signaling the beginning of a race towards greeting families, not unlike orphans competing to be taken in by foster parents, I found the airport to be of a refreshing calm and quiet that day.

Short of the hug I usually get from my sister, I was greeted by a smile form our trusted family driver, Mohammad. My sister must be planning a deliciously lavish welcome home party for me, I thought. I could even hear the fireworks. Surely, she couldn’t be expected to leave it all and come to the airport! I was delighted.

Mohammad explained “ we had to walk a little”. Walk? The car must be parked a little further than usual. I had been sitting for almost 30 hours, I certainly wouldn’t object to a little exercise .The next few minutes were a blur, probably the chicken catching up with me.

I remember Mohammad negotiating with a police officer for a taxi displaying the art of Lebanese persuasion at its best. I remember his prowess in recruiting a delightfully unassuming taxi – manual / no AC - that transported us to the outskirts of the airport. A taxi driver will teach you a thing or two, let me tell you:

1-Driving principles: driving 3aks el seir on a narrow congested street is sometimes a necessity. Failure to identify such an opportunity invariably makes you an incompetent driver.

2- Economic principle: taxi fares are more complex than you may think. What one may qualify as entirely subjective actually results from meticulous analyses of supply and demand, factoring in the cost of emotional distress to the driver in times of intense traffic. The 200m “trip” cost us 10 000LL.

3- Political principles: all our current “leaders” are shit.


One minute later, the cab dropped us off. I am a fan of Lebanon's beach resorts, but I wasn't prepared for this. The beach that stood before me was designed with a slightly different concept in mind: a few palm trees, bags of sand, scattered pebbles and bonfires with dispersed old tires, probably for the children in the crowd. Oddly, no swimsuits in sight. An exclusive resort I thought.

As original as it was, the place still invited the most universal activity of all: seduction. I am certain all single women on my flight received the same warm welcome. The pool of eligible men was diverse: from the pubescent hormonally charged 13 year old to the three-wived – looking for a fourth – 80 year old. All showed genuine enthusiasm and outstanding creativity in their approach. Enticing words from “amar” to “barbie” were just a small contribution to the rich flurry of come-ons I experienced. A particularly creative young officer nicknamed me “ sanfoura (smurfette)”. In his defense, I was wearing blue.

The flirtatious remarks soon redirected towards another contender: my orange suitcase. Before I knew it , “ shou hal orange” exclamations were everywhere. She was a rival to be reckoned with, the kind whose colors his parents would surely approve of. The competition grew fierce. After all, these strapping men’s romantic inclinations would translate into such passionate displays of affection as offering personalized fireworks and expensive poignant perfumes.

As I was contemplating my next move, my thus far silent cell phone rang: my mother’s frantic voice urging me home. She must have missed me a lot… I reluctantly left my welcoming committee behind and jumped into my car which Mohammad had finally located. I looked back through the window and saw a rainbow of colors surrounded by clouds of smoke fading into the distance. A smoking welcome.

5 days later……
Which Lebanon do you want? yours?....or mine?


By Emilie - Globe Trotter / Part-Time Smurfette


tags: emilie, beirut international airport, lebanese, writer, author, grassroots, lebanon, taxi, hawa lubnan, flights, landing, arrival, incoming, story, anecdote, a smoking welcome, airport roadblock, smurfette, amar, creative writing

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