imageimage image In the posh new wing at Charles de Gaulle, there are hanging gardens. I had to take a close look to be sure they were live. The smoking section was outside. What a rare treat to be outside at an airport while not fighting for a place. Open sky and fresh air for smokers.

image image image image Is there a meaningful parallel to Beirut, or has my eye become developed to trivial coincidences? See post 16 May 2015, “Posts 31 P71 S57 L3, 4, 5, & 6.”

image image FENDI, Charles De Gaulle, Paris. Brass welding rods.

image Unexpected humor at Beirut International Airport. Nice to see that this only blows away hats.

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image Today! I would translate as “Full Sun” without many other obvious choices.

image image I admit to eating several times in the last year. My earlier post, 26 October 2013 with a similar image, is my fifth most viewed post. That is a close rival to “Monkey Selfie,” “Boss Sauce,” and “Paper Snowflakes.” Is it the scrumptious veal? Is it the satisfyingly crunchy bread crust? The savory sauce? The blue shutters upstairs? The healthy cabbage? The bright colors? Perhaps all those visiting Berliners searching for a familiar snack? All those academics across the street deciding on a lunch venue? No, it is because a Google image search for “KB Doner” has my post in the first ten. But then again, Google must list it for a reason.

Looks like they deliver.

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I walked home from Gemmayzeh, and of course and by choice, because no other courses worth choosing went my way that day, I visited the martyrs to the Ottoman occupation at Martyrs’ Square. I first visited it in early 1992, where it was a relic in the midst of ruins, and it impressed me greatly. The damage incurred during the Civil War was left during structural repairs and conveys not irony, but something similar with bitter resignation. The song “Cemetry Gates” by the Smiths (1986) came to mind, what with memorialized heroes and gorgeous weather. This post’s title is the first line of the song, but the relevant part is below.

“So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people all those lives
Where are they now?
With the loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived and then they died
Seems so unfair
And I want to cry”

image I recognized it as a lost or abandoned finger painting immediately, but the elephant emerged only after viewing it from the proper angle. I dismissed the possibility of it being a lost pet sign due to the lack of contact information. It is far more likely to be a school, or pre-school art project. I estimate age three, but a precocious two-year old or a four-year old stuck in a mixed cohort is plausible. Then again, it could be a draft plan for the re-extantation of the wooly mammoth.

image Outside the walls of the American University of Beirut, near its physical plant.


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