Damn Yankees

When we started planning our trip to the Middle East we knew we might receive mixed receptions from the people we would meet and that Americans are not well regarded in this part of the world. We had been to Jordan and Egypt a few times and had always been warmly welcomed, but we did not know what to expect in Syria and Lebanon. We knew the US pulled Americans out of their Embassy in Syria, we knew that the wounds from the 2005 altercation with Israel would still be fresh in Lebanon, and we knew that our image in Middle East was not favorable since the Iraq war, but we did not know how this would affect our day-to-day interactions on our trip.

In Syria, there was nothing negative to speak of--we were welcomed with open arms and with shock that Americans were actually visiting. Even extremely conservatively dressed muslim women approached us when they heard our English. One actually said she was so happy that there were outsiders visiting her country. (Of course, some of the older, really traditional women gave me judgemental looks as they studied my appearance, but that was expected, even in baggy cargo pants and long-sleeved shirts.)

For the most part, Lebanon has been the same in welcoming us to their culture. When we were in the countryside visiting the farming villages and in the resort communities, the people were surprised and excited to encounter Americans--most assumed we were French. They enjoyed asking where we were from and most assumed we lived in Texas! Kyle even ran into a pocket of Canadians who loved strolling down memory lane with him.

Overall Beirut has been an easy city to navigate when we can use broken English and Kyle's French speaking skills, but the other day, we were reminded that American politics have left a bad taste in the mouths of some Middle Easterners.

We are pretty low-key travelers who move below the radar in the sense that we are cautious about our attire, our volume and our expectations. We do not boast about being American and are certainly not demanding. In the desert regions, it is not unusual for Dad and me to blend right into the culture, until we open our mouths and speak English.

Because of this, we were a little taken aback when we were treated like outcasts in some of Beiruts hot spots. We stopped at a little hookah bar on the Corniche overlooking the Mediterrean Sea to get some water--we had been walking along the sea in 90 plus heat. The young (Euro-trash like) Lebanese men running the cafe decided that we were invisible--even though there was only one other table of people. They apparently chose not to serve us. We waited several minutes to account for the cultural differences, tried staring at them to make our message perfectly clear, and then finally requested three bottles of water. They begrudgingly served us and made us wait even longer to get the bill.

We laughed it off when we left the cafe and flagged a cab. The cabbie took us to our destination after driving extremely out of the way and attempted to charge us over $30 for a $6 cab fare. We ending up giving him $17 during his short-change artist game, grabbing the money, switching the money and acting like he no longer spoke French or English. The situation turned into an altercation outside of the cab where f-bombs were dropped, a policeman stolled over, a tad bit of shoving ensued and a mediator intervened. The scene ended with us walking away and the cabbie not getting anymore money.

The cabbie had dropped us at the Rodeo Drive of Beirut so that we could see the reconstruction of Beirut after the war, dad could get some coffee and Kyle could do some dreaming in the extremely opulent shopping district. We planted dad at the Grand Cafe coffee shop and wandered around. We returned within 45 minutes to hear dad's assessment of the Beirut coffee and he still did not have any coffee! Two hours later, he only had one cup! Despite eye contact, gestures and requests, the non-busy waiters in the mostly empty cafe ignored him. Immediately behind dad was a young Lebanese man who was attentively waited on- - his free nuts were even refilled! Needless to say, dad was a bit fussy before we left and no tip was left. He wanted them to just post a sign: Americans not welcome! No coffee for the Yankees!

In sitcom-like fashion, we returned to our hotel to change our clothes and our attitudes before heading out for the evening...both needed to be refreshed! With smiles on our faces, we walked out of our hotel about 20 feet when a speeding car about smashed our toes, ran through a puddle and covered us in water. Are you kidding me? Kyle's reflex was to throw a coin that happened to be in his hand at the car. He missed. By now the guy was getting out of his car and I could not resist. I said, "I've been to Israel. I know how to throw rocks." I grabbed a piece of the road, chucked it at his car and I hit it squarely. The guys were impressed with the throw, but I am confident it was only luck! (Don't lecture us on our irractional behavior--we knew this reaction was stupid and childish, but enough was enough...it was go time.)

We figured there was only one way to reverse this minor blip...we headed to McDonalds for 32 oz fountain drinks of diet soda with ice and then to Krispy Kreme donuts for "happy pills." All is right with the world...

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