Gazette # 2 Beirut Beirut Justine or the home of wisdom 
Time flies when you do not have time to see him go.
Where to start ... the bad news, which are already part of the past. I did not hear at all with the gay couple who were making fun of a roommate ... apparently after one week, they found it much less funny the little fags, so I had to clear ... C that is where my first Lebanese experience begins.
Who would have thought, raw potato, which I find myself one day in a home for nuns ...?
Not my parents, who raised me in respect of religion (well, among others, and again), in the love of his neighbor (unless it's a big con, of course), and when even in open contempt of the clergy.
Also not my friends, who know that sin does not exist for me, finally, in any case he has a different meaning and spelling, for me, it's just a fruit tree. Also not
Father Storm (leader of a group, gender Scout, that I went to make the hike was young), which was well saved that I was the only one not to receive communion in the morning at breakfast , I was trying to simply eat my growing as little noise as possible while others were starving (obviously a host, it does not feed her man).
or Justine " The home of wisdom. " Be honest, nobody would have believed.
I'm fine, the curfew is at 23:30 on weekdays, even my parents have rarely dared to intrude by cons that ... I'm a little disappointed, no whip me if I'm late ... The girls are very nice, even if there is one who makes the sign of the cross when he saw me arrive in the kitchen, I could not interpret his gesture, a vision of Satan ... maybe
short, it'll work ...
- okay!
- and the family okay?
- and your mother?
- okay! I learned
salaams origin of the word, which comes from salamalekoum, hello in Arabic. Here, we made salaams. I may be pie, at least the only one that had not yet understood, but hey, I return less silly.
The job, then. I took over the cultural program Sunday night radio, "club culture". Thirty minutes of stories, music, all comments from my lovely voice, even as I articulate. I do everything, reporting, editing, comments articulated. I am very free, so free that my boss does not listen, well, I think not ... I do not see it anyway ... From 15 o'clock there is nobody on the radio, I am often alone, old Parisian reflex.
My week consists of film festivals, plays, music, exhibitions ... Last night I saw "The Secret of the Grain", in the presence of Abdellatif Kechiche. I was so excited that my voice was shaking when I thanked him at the end of the film, and when I told him I was excited, I was not going to lie, as if my voice was not enough, yes I confess, I stammered.
Apart eat the canapés in the evenings, I also work for real. I even paid minimum wage for that Lebanese (200 dollars, I'll let you do the euro account). This is the book fair in Beirut, so what I like most do now, read books. This is great, finally, to the many rotten books, it is the foot.
And then I eat hummus, and then I walk to remove the hummus. I joined a touring group with which we are not obliged to eat the wafers. I went to see the cedars of Lebanon, I went to the top of the mountain, because when I was younger, we did not stop before they really up to finally back down. It
Beirut. I became aware of the full dimension of this expression from my trip by plane, the whole familia board by the end of Ramadan, a real mess. But I do not know if I prefer the car to the aircraft knowing that the expression code of the road, it does not exist. The panels are available, fire red, turn restrictions and one way streets as well, but not the traffic ... the goal, the first pass you do not demolish your car ... and why you horn, and an almost broken ... you look good on both sides of the road before crossing, because the way you can thee fuck ass. Without being vulgar. What is certain is that I prefer the taxi to the bus. The taxi, also called "service" is folklore. LBP 2000 race (1 euro), you may find yourself at five, as the driver picks up everything he can about the passage. But main advantage is that it's fast, because waiting for the bus, it's almost a social experiment. White woman waiting alone at a roadside = whore. Earlier, waiting for the bus number two, there are still three guys who stopped to offer me to make a small turn in their Mercedes. I ulcerated course, my sister Justine wisdom, the neighbor who did this, I would burst its tires, no kidding.
Well, I'm fine, I like the city, even if it's super loud and very very very dirty, sometimes it makes you want to stop breathing ... but I avoid.
I'll do my prayers and to bed.
I'll drink a beer and bed.
