Beauty Strikes When You Least Expected

What does Lebanon, airport security, starry nights, Sufi music-playing movie actors and Yoga have in common? Well, not much. But they are all part of my first ever experience in Lebanon. Are you curious? Read on to find out!

I had decided to go to Chouf Yoga Festival, after learning that one of my favourite Yoga teachers -Layal Salhani- is going to host a workshop there along with her husband, Ma’an. I booked a flight to Beirut via a transit in Mersin. I went to my Thursday Yoga class as usual, after which I went to the airport, got my baggage checked-in, and from there I looked for the CIP Lounge I had paid for to spend the next 5 hours or so in. Naturally, they should’ve allowed me, but they told me that since it was already midnight and that they close at 01:30, I should come back when they re-open at 4 am! What made this all the more ludicrous is that my flight was already scheduled for 5:35 am, with boarding starting half an hour or so before! So why would I use the lounge for 1 hour, when I had paid for it cuz I expected to need a place to stay in for 5 hours?

Of course, I promptly left the Lounge area and decided to head back to the airport terminal. On my way, however, as I was looking around I noticed the Sabiha airport hotel, so I decided to show some courage and ask them if they could possibly have a place for my to comfortably spend the following 5 or so hours. I went in and the front receptionist told me I could use the hotel’s bar area—free of any entry charges! Naturally, I jumped on the opportunity and spent the next 4.5 or so hours attempting to win the battle between my need to not sleep -that was the only caveat for allowing me the bar area- and my already sleep-yearning system that made me drowsy seemingly by the minute. I sat all alone in the bar’s garden area playing online chess with my school friends, watching masterclass videos, talking on the phone with my friend Chris, and playing NFS Heat on my iPad.

I finally made my way to the gate, where I saw a bus waiting for me to transport me and the other passengers to the airplane —which for some reason, was parked way way far out on the outskirts of the airport. It took us 20 or so minutes just to arrive at the location where our plane was. I boarded the plane and an hour or so later I was in Mersin.

In Mersin, as I attempted to locate my suitcase on the arrivals suitcase belt, I noticed something—the non-existence of my suitcase! And to make matters worse, the conveyor belt had came to a grinding halt, indicating that any suitcases that were, have already gotten out. Mine hadn’t. So, I sought help from the Lost & Found desk, and they helped me learn that my suitcase went directly to the plane going to Beirut. It made sense, considering I was only in Mersin as a transfer passenger on a connecting flight.

I asked the lady there if she could help me get my suitcase back, cuz I needed my chargers from it to charge some of my devices —Don’t ask me why I tucked my charging cables in my suitcase instead of my backpack. However, as soon as I received my suitcase, I noticed that its handle system was broken. So, I made another request that they accommodate my suitcase with them till I go out to somewhere in Mersin, buy a new suitcase, and come back to empty the old suitcase into the new one. They accepted but told me to be quick.

I immediately got out and waited for a bus service to get me to the nearest town -which after a strenuous inquiry period, I learned was called Tarsus- and got on it and was on my way to Tarsus. On the way, I saw green and planted fields on both sides of the road. It seemed the fields pre-dated the road, not the other way around. I had a nice chat with a male passenger sat next to me throughout the 20-minute journey. He told me was grew up and lived in Tarsus. I found him friendly and nice.

After arriving in Tarsus, I went to Tarsu -which is the shopping mall in Tarsus- and sat a while in a nearby park marvelling at the under-construction skyscrapers in the surroundings, till at 10 am the mall opened. I went in and after visiting a couple different stores, I got my new suitcase and in no time was on my way to the airport taxi service waiting point. On the way there -which was around a 10 minute walk- my attention was caught by the simplicity of Tarsus, and the humble building structures that seemed to characterise it. It reminded me of the simple and humble places in Egypt. It felt eerily familiar. Or it just reminded me of old memories of me witnessing forsaken, debilitated buildings and old houses when I was in Egypt.

Anyway, after waiting for the taxi service eating ice cream and talking with mum on the phone, I got on the taxi and was back at the airport in no time -or to be perfectly honest, in 20 minutes. At the airport, I contacted the Lost & Found desk, and informed them that I had arrived and wishing to re-receive my old suitcase. They sent someone to allow me into the arrivals area -which, under normal circumstances would be forbidden- and I did things as intended, emptying the old suitcase into the new —not to mention, appreciably larger one. But then I was met with a conundrum anyone emptying a broken suitcase at an airport would come across: Where and how do I get rid of the old suitcase without attracting attention? After all, this entire operation of allowing me to entrust the L&F representative with my old suitcase till I went and bought a new one, was undercover. It was by the officer’s generosity that it had happened. So, how did I resolve this conundrum? Simple: I did what any self-respecting traveller would do when trying to unsuspiciously get rid of a forlorn suitcase: I simply walked to airport security and asked them to take it. Yes, seriously. And you know what? After first inspecting it to ensure it was indeed empty, they told me I’m in the clear and could go catch my flight.

Speaking of my flight, I still had 2 more bloody hours till my flight was due to take off! I had been in Mersin for 5 hours already and still had 2 more to go! After somehow getting through those gruelling 2 hours waiting at the flight gate, I got on the flight, and there I was —finally on my way to Beirut, the Paris of the Middle East.

On the flight, I sat next to a man, whom I noticed hadn’t received a meal. I didn’t know why, but when I finished mine, I decided to muster up my courage and offer to split my specially-pre-ordered almond cake with him. He kindly refused. But my approaching him gave him the chance to then talk to me. He told me he was on a business trip to meet some people in Beirut. He was a syrian who owned a company called La Rose beauty, if I remember it correctly. He lived in China  -yes, China- for many years till 2018 but then due to exasperatingly long flight durations between China and Syria, he decided to pass on his company’s China department onto his nephew. He seemed kind yet beaten by life, almost as if his entire 52 years alive were a product of the Assad family’s equidistant regime. After the flight had landed and I marvelled at how close the runway was to the shoreline -it was basically a front-row vista to the mediterranean, we bid farewell and I was officially on my way to -hopefully- get out of the airport and onto my way to the Yoga Festival! All I needed was to get through the visa procedures and I would be able to accomplish this. And this is when the wheels .. starting coming off ..

At the visa office, they started asking me questions about why I came to Lebanon and naturally I answered as best I can. They asked me where I was staying, but because I was staying at Koon, -which isn’t a hotel, per se- it made my situation suspicious. But when they asked me how much money I had I couldn’t lie and said I had 500 bucks. Obviously this didn’t go down well with them, so they began muttering stuff between themselves, which I interpreted as a sign that my visa was being rejected.

Of course, when I realized this, I did the only thing I could’ve done: Call my Yoga teacher Ms. Layal. I was in shambles and crying; I was so scared. I told her about the situation and she tried to calm me down. Cuz I didn’t have my own internet connection (and the airport’s wifi sucked), I asked a lady there if she had cellular connection on her phone from which she could share a hotspot connection with me. She had a cellular connection and very kindly shared it with me. She said if I need any help she’d be there. I owe her a great deal, cuz when none of the officers seemed understanding, she was the only one who comforted me —at least till Ms. Layal and I talked.

This went on for hours, with the Festival’s organizer Diana getting heavily involved and seeking help from whomever she found at the festival, including Ms. Layla’s husband, Mr. Ma’an. The officers eventually took me to the red zone room, after inspecting my passport and return ticket. They even found my baggage suitcase and took a picture of it, which they showed me to confirm it was mine.

In custody, I began wondering if I will make it through this. I mean, I knew I am strong, but I wasn’t sure if I would have made it to the festival or not. I called my uncle to seek help from him, and told him I hadn’t —and couldn’t— tell mum. I told him they intend to repatriate me back to Istanbul on the soonest flight back.

While in custody, I realized I could use this situation to my advantage. I knew it would emotionally serve me well if I humanized my situation, so I eventually got to make friends with the two officers there, and they got to know me better. I told them where and what I study, where I live, and who I am. I realized an important lesson: that even though my situation was dire and miserable, and didn’t have to be. Life gave me a cactus, but I didn’t have to sit on it. Instead, I cut it open, and drank its water.

Meanwhile by this point, hours after first going into custody, Diana, Ms. Layal and her husband, as well as most everyone else at the festival had heard my name by this point. I guess this had the upside of making me famous at the festival .. haha..

They gave me a lot of hope and did make a lot of calls, not just to the airport security officials, but to the Beirut Security General Directorate. Still, by 11 pm it had become clear that despite all their efforts, the airport’s decision to deport me back was final and there was nothing more to be done.

At this point, I had accepted my fate. I was going back to Istanbul, and my dream of spending the weekend at the festival with my teacher Layal and all the others went down the drain… or so it seemed ..

After having had a tough night of sleep on a filthy, sloppy couch that looked more dilapidated and tattered than even my grandma’s old couch, I woke up around 10 am, talked on the phone with my uncle, after which I decided to spend the remaining few hours till my flight back home listening to music. However before I had the chance to listen to much of anything, I saw one of the officers coming to me while talking on the phone. He looked solemn; this was important. I thought he was gonna repeat the same things I already know or whatnot. But no, as soon as he hung up the phone, he told me to pack up my belongings as they were letting me go. At first, my brain still in a mode of hopelessness and acceptance of my fate, interpreted this as meaning they were letting me go to Istanbul. But then I realized he wouldn’t have come to me to tell me this —I already knew. So I sauntered after him and asked him what he meant. He told me my situation got all cleared up —they were letting me into Beirut!

I was over the moon! I couldn’t believe it! What a miracle! I quickly told Ms. Layal, Diana and my uncle. And made sure the driver —who had waited for me the day before, only yo find out I wasn’t being let out of the airport— was coming to pick me up and get me to the mountainous area where the festival is held. I got my passport controlled, picked my suitcase and off I was to the Festival! You know, its like Einstein said, “There are two ways to live our lives: One is to live as if nothing is a miracle, and the other is to live as if everything is a miracle.” I had chosen the latter and accepted my fate, and in the end, fate compensated me generously.

Of course it was hard to believe how things changed so fast! We all knew it was thanks to the many calls made by the people at the festival, as well as Ms. Layal and her husband’s personal involvement. I couldn’t have felt more grateful to them all.

It took us around 100 minutes to arrive at the festival, and throughout the journey I marvelled at the beauty of the mountainous region and took so many videos that my phone battery almost died and I had to plug my phone into my power bank. On our way, we stopped to get some water —cuz as I had had learned the hard way, when you’re stuck at the airport custody for 18 hours, you really have little chance to drink any water. But what shocked me was how much the water costed! We asked for two small bottles of water, and the price I heard was 60 THOUSAND!!! Yes, two small bottles of water cost 60 grand in Lebanese money! My generous driver Nibal paid for them, thank goodness. But damn, I said. And I thought we had inflation and currency depreciation in Turkey. These folks are living in a whole different realm of economics.

When I arrived at the festival, it was lunch time. And Diana was waiting for us at the entrance. And by the time we parked the car, Ms. Layal and her husband were there to greet me as well! I had never met her husband before, and I felt it was an honour to finally meet this wonderful man who wasn’t just my Yoga teacher’s husband, but also a man who didn’t hold back on helping someone like me, someone he didn’t know or ever see in his life theretofore.

I got my belongings in the bungalow, got a shower, and began enjoying the sessions, food and lovely people at the festival. Wherever I went, everyone there seemed to know me. I was the guy who got stuck at the airport, and it was quite the feeling to be famous on arrival, if I’m being completely honest. Hahaha ..

It got to the point where I was interviewed by the cameramen who came in to film and publish the festival’s events! They got me a mic that attached to my collar, and I gave a 20-minute recounting of my journey to Lebanon that day, followed by a 5 or so minute encapsulation of my ordeal at the airport. They said they’d turn it into a mini-documentary. It made me feel like I was a famous movie actor or something.. haha

In the evening we sat near an open air fireplace and had a lively conversation with Ms. Layal and one of her other students from Yogaşala, Muhammet. I didn’t really know him before this, but we had a little chat. I loved the atmosphere there. It felt warm, welcoming and real.

Speaking of actors, that evening as I was about to order dinner, I met an older man who looked very professional, giving off vibes of a professor of some kind. As soon as I greeted him, he seemed to know me —damn, it was weird to be so famous and known before even introducing myself— and asked him if he was a professor. He disconfirmed it and said he was actually an actor named Tarek. I was surprised that I met an actor in real life, and got curious about the shows or movies he played a part in. He enumerated them one by one, and I wrote them down in the Youtube search so that I can watch them later on. I was so pleased I met this neat and venerable man.

There was then a Sufi band that was scheduled to play shortly, so I got on one of the tables in the area in front of it and ate a chicken roll along with a salad with some bittersweet salty cheese in it! I adored it but found its name hard to pronounce.

During the concert, Diana came to me and gave me a change of 5 dollars in Lebanese money. I got 450,000 Lebanese Liras! The exchange rate, as Nibal had told me after buying the water, is 90,000 Lebanese Liras to the dollar. DAMN!!!

It was the first time I held a banknote that read the figure 100,000 on it. (Full disclosure, I needed to get a stamp for my passport at the airport after the decision to send me back was overturned, so when I paid the 8 dollar fee with a 10 dollar banknote, I actually got a Lebanese banknote for 100,000 liras and this was the first time I held such a banknote). I even took a photo of it and sent it to my brother.

Afterwards, as I was walking down a path nearby, I found myself casting my sight upwards towards the sky, only to be struck in utter awe and amazement at the star-filled sky! It was the first time in memory, that I had been able to witness a starry sky! I let myself bask in the beauty of this visual treat for some time. It was quite literally a sight to behold, and be enraptured by!

I slept in the tent for the night, and found it an amazing experience! I actually woke up quite early, shortly after sunrise. And I could just peek from the window-like opening in the tent and feast my eyes on the spectacle before me. However, because I hadn’t slept during the first night of the trip and spent the second night in sporadic sleep whilst in custody, my body decided to take full advantage of this opportunity to catch some more comfy sleep in the quietude and comfort of the tent.

The next day, which was the final day of the festival (It was already ending??? Yeah I know, time flies, right? ;) ), I woke up at around 8:35 upon Diana thoughtfully waking me up so that I don’t miss the morning Yoga session. As I sat down to have my breakfast, the lebanese style, I noticed some english speaking tourist-like folks coming through the entrance and passing by my table. They were two girls and two guys in a group. I got curious who they were and why they were so late.. Maybe they too got stuck due to legal matters?

As they sat down after the Yoga session, I overheard one of the girls say she’s an explorer. Hmm.. I got curious but still didn’t muster enough courage to barge in with a curious question for her. So I bided my time, and decided to introduce myself to these folks later on in the day.

And so I did! A couple hours later during the lunch break, I took my plate from the open buffet, and spotted the four of them sat around a table —all by themselves. So, I got there, and asked if they’d mind me joining them. They welcomed me so I sat on the fifth chair in the table, and we had arguably the most meaningful, heart-to-heart conversation I’d had in a long time. I learned that the two girls, Ghanya and Alya were sisters, half-spanish and they lived part of their lives in Lebanon and part in Valencia, Spain, in which they currently resided. She explained that she travelled to many countries but didn’t see herself as a “tourist” but rather as an explorer. An explorer who loved discovering new cultures and meeting new people.

The guys, both of which named Omar, had a different story to tell. One of them, who was 20, -a year younger than me, was the gals’ cousin! So Ghanya and Alya were his aunt’s daughters. The other Omar had a rather interesting connection with these folks, he wasn’t related by blood, but he said that his sister’s friend is related to them.

I basked in the conversation and could barely eat my lunch as I got enchanted by its authenticity and liveliness. Eventually, I had to finish lunch and get up for the next session. I thanked Ghanya, with whom I conversed the most, for this wonderful and invigorating chat.

During the session next to last, which was about self-expression through body movement, I noticed her dancing with movements that flowed gracefully like she was a professional dancer. It was inspiring, moving and sentimentally touching to witness her majestic moves. After the session was over, I went and complimented her on it, and I meant it with all my heart. Her movements were beyond graceful, they were enchantingly beauteous.

Anyhow, during the final session we learned how various flute-like instruments, primarily the Nay, worked and how it was made. There were giant leaves on the bamboo-like plant from which these instruments were made, and Ghanya used them to make a suit and a crown for herself. I found that very creative. Lastly, we danced the Lebanese dance “Dabke” to finish off the session and thus, the festival. I had so much fun! I loved every moment of it.

I finally said goodbyes to everyone, (including, of course, Ms. Layal and her kind husband, Ma’an) and gave my number to Ghanya while somehow neglecting asking for hers (classic rookie mistake).

As I sat down waiting for my driver to come, I noticed one of the ladies who worked there holding a cup filled with some green liquid. I got curious. She told its called “Maté”. The young bartender and the cashier (who was an older man) were also around and joined the conversation. I learned that Maté is originally from Argentina, but when many Lebanese people fled the region during the first world war, some of them came back decades later. And when they did, they brought back with them this drink, or rather the plant from which it made.

The bartender, named Jamal, also gave me a short lesson on the various dialects in Lebanon. For example, in the south people have something akin to the Texas drawl. So they lengthen off the ending of the last word in a sentence. They also don’t say “Ana” which means “I” in arabic, they say “Ani”, which means the same thing.  In the mountains, they utter the letter “kaf” with a “k”, and not an “a”. So unlike in places like Beirut, they wouldn’t say “Aanun”, but “Kaanun”. I found the nuances within the Lebanese dialect of the Arabic language extremely fascinating. I would’ve definitely continued to the conversation had my driver not arrived. But it was time for me to end this short-lived and adventure-filled sojourn in Lebanon, and head back home. And so off I was en route to the airport in another driver Diana got me.

This ride was also unforgettable, as two of the participants at the festival joined us, and so the veritable road trip to the airport wasn’t just me filming the breath-taking scenery throughout, but with lively and educational conversations about Lebanon, the lebanese dialect and culture.

I got to the airport, and while waiting on the gate, my flight had gotten delayed 40 minutes or so. So I decided to take advantage of this delay and go get something to drink. However, around 20 meters after In got out of the gate I saw a bookstore, and the bookworm in me just couldn’t resist taking a look. Sureeee I wasn’t gonna buy books from the airport in Beirut, right? …. Righttt?

I got out with 150 dollars worth of books! Damn, me!! I should’ve known!

Anyway, after killing some time spending a fortune on buying more books (as if I didn’t have enough books at home already), I got on my direct flight back to Istanbul, and arrived around midnight. I got my suitcase after which I realized in my hurry to catch the bus to Taksim, I had forgotten the books I had bought in the upper stowing area on the plane! I got them back shortly after visiting the Lost & Found office of Turkish Airlines and within less than an hour, I was at Taksim. I got a taxi from there and I was home at around 3 am.

Phew!! What a ride! No, I don’t mean the taxi ride, I mean this entire journey, from the moment I decided to leave from Istanbul to go to Lebanon to attend a Yoga festival in its majestic mountainous hinterland.

It was definitely an unexpected journey, filled with a great many lessons, and I greatly enjoyed it. Was it a positive or negative experience, you may ask. Well, that I don’t know. But if there’s one thing for sure, is that it is unforgettable, just like that starry sky I had witnessed…

Thank you Lebanon.

I am grateful for you.

Yusuf Kemal