Beirut - First Impressions

 

Beirut is a city which enlivens the senses and encourages curiosity. As you move from one street to the next we grew with confidence with each footstep. For a large part of the morning Dez and I walked in relative peace and quiet, observing and trying to find the words and images which might kick start our Lebanese adventure. In the early afternoon I was awoken from my sleepy wandering with a start as I had my knuckles rapped by a passing wing mirror. Shortly thereafter, having eaten, Dez found his camera and got to doing what he does best, clicking the stories of the day. 

Photo's 1,2 and 3 - One of the first observations of the city are the elegant stone front facades of the Beirut's  building's. French windows, shutters and hanging sheets shape the buildings into a view not unlike a bookshelf. The distant charm of the buildings often belie the close reality. Up close the walls carry weary tales of a violent past. Pock marked bullet holes and shrapnel marks date back to the Lebanese Civil war which began in 1975. We have yet to unravel the stories behind the Civil War, but as time goes on we will endeavour to shed light. 

Photo's  4, 5 and 6 – As the sun dipped we walked through a maze of streets snacking on delicious falafel pitta rolls and quaffing down think dreamy thimble sized cups of sweet sweet coffee. 

Not linked to any picture - We shared a random conversation with Gabriel (a struggling film maker and avid movie goer), who was at the time double fisting a pizza slice in each hand. In between forcing down mouthfuls of food he described the contradictions of the women of the city, where it was commonplace here in Beirut to see a woman in a full abaya walking with her sister wearing the latest in mini-skirt fashion. Parts of Beirut are   indeed noteworthy for the large numbers of beauty parlours and lingerie shops. We will be looking into this more closely!

The traffic (and car horns) seemed to lull in the late afternoon. Shop keepers withdrew to their comfy chairs with a cigarette and newspaper. The pace momentarily dipped in anticipation of the night ahead. 

Pic 7, 8 – Traveling back from the Beirut Marathon Association offices in the Hazmeih, to the North of the city we had the good fortune to pick up a 1983 Peugeot (sp?) taxi with Gibrail, a Maronite Christian. Once we  had deftly moved through the standard introductions and looks of bemusement of our reasoning for being in Lebanon, he proudly shared the news of the birth of his second child some fourteen days earlier. His daughter is called Princess, apparently the first girl in the whole city to be given such a noble and worthy name. Gibrail's son is called Antonio-Prince. It was a delight for Dez and I to soak up the pride and joy of a loving father.

Pic 9, 10 and 11 – Beiruti's migrate in numbers to the Corniche water front in the evenings. An interesting cosmopolitan mix of walkers, joggers, cyclists, fishermen, sheisha smokers, couples (young and old), kids, card players and soldiers amongst others, congregate as if on cue as the sun sets. The various acrobatic exercise's intermingled with intense discussions appear to be a routine for the local population. Moving away from the shore line, we wander up to Hamra, the shopping district of the city which is positively abuzz with late night shoppers. If I lived here, given the beauty of the coast line and the gentle atmosphere of the city, I have no doubt that my evenings would happily follow the exact same pattern as those described above. 

  

Beirut - First Impressions

 

Beirut is a city which enlivens the senses and encourages curiosity. As you move from one street to the next we grew with confidence with each footstep. For a large part of the morning Dez and I walked in relative peace and quiet, observing and trying to find the words and images which might kick start our Lebanese adventure. In the early afternoon I was awoken from my sleepy wandering with a start as I had my knuckles rapped by a passing wing mirror. Shortly thereafter, having eaten, Dez found his camera and got to doing what he does best, clicking the stories of the day. 

Photo's 1,2 and 3 - One of the first observations of the city are the elegant stone front facades of the Beirut's  building's. French windows, shutters and hanging sheets shape the buildings into a view not unlike a bookshelf. The distant charm of the buildings often belie the close reality. Up close the walls carry weary tales of a violent past. Pock marked bullet holes and shrapnel marks date back to the Lebanese Civil war which began in 1975. We have yet to unravel the stories behind the Civil War, but as time goes on we will endeavour to shed light. 

Photo's  4, 5 and 6 – As the sun dipped we walked through a maze of streets snacking on delicious falafel pitta rolls and quaffing down think dreamy thimble sized cups of sweet sweet coffee. 

Not linked to any picture - We shared a random conversation with Gabriel (a struggling film maker and avid movie goer), who was at the time double fisting a pizza slice in each hand. In between forcing down mouthfuls of food he described the contradictions of the women of the city, where it was commonplace here in Beirut to see a woman in a full abaya walking with her sister wearing the latest in mini-skirt fashion. Parts of Beirut are   indeed noteworthy for the large numbers of beauty parlours and lingerie shops. We will be looking into this more closely!

The traffic (and car horns) seemed to lull in the late afternoon. Shop keepers withdrew to their comfy chairs with a cigarette and newspaper. The pace momentarily dipped in anticipation of the night ahead. 

Pic 7, 8 – Traveling back from the Beirut Marathon Association offices in the Hazmeih, to the North of the city we had the good fortune to pick up a 1983 Peugeot (sp?) taxi with Gibrail, a Maronite Christian. Once we  had deftly moved through the standard introductions and looks of bemusement of our reasoning for being in Lebanon, he proudly shared the news of the birth of his second child some fourteen days earlier. His daughter is called Princess, apparently the first girl in the whole city to be given such a noble and worthy name. Gibrail's son is called Antonio-Prince. It was a delight for Dez and I to soak up the pride and joy of a loving father.

Pic 9, 10 and 11 – Beiruti's migrate in numbers to the Corniche water front in the evenings. An interesting cosmopolitan mix of walkers, joggers, cyclists, fishermen, sheisha smokers, couples (young and old), kids, card players and soldiers amongst others, congregate as if on cue as the sun sets. The various acrobatic exercise's intermingled with intense discussions appear to be a routine for the local population. Moving away from the shore line, we wander up to Hamra, the shopping district of the city which is positively abuzz with late night shoppers. If I lived here, given the beauty of the coast line and the gentle atmosphere of the city, I have no doubt that my evenings would happily follow the exact same pattern as those described above. 

  

Heels on fire...in Lebanon

Hello Folks...

Heels on fire returns...

Our intrepid and relentless runner, Peter Dulvy returns this time to run from the North to the South of Lebanon followed close on heels by talented Mr.Roberts (Desmond) again. Keeping them company will be some of Lebanon's best long distance runners and a convoy of cameramen who will document their 250 km journey along the Lebanese coast. 
Starting today...

Watch this space.

Watch this space…

Over the past couple of months, we received a lot of support, attention and words of inspiration from all of you in different parts of the world. For this motivation, we are deeply grateful. Over the next couple of months, we intend to spend time to think through the future of Heels on Fire and how we can take it forward. The inputs we have received from all of you are a great start and we would welcome continued discussions on the Discussion Forum (and no cash loan adverts). We will also strive to keep you all amused and interested through a series of photo essays.

Keep the mails coming...

RK

Mattancherry - Reflections of the irony of development

16th May 2006
Then an Ancient Trade Centre, Jewish Town and Now?

Mattancherry an island surrounded by the backwaters flourished as an ancient trade centre, attributing its popularity to its locational advantage. What was perceived, as Advantage-Mattancherry soon became the cause of the slow death of the town.



The spirit of this bustling ancient trade centre seems to have succumbed to “Development”. Roadways, the introduction of lorries and autos now non-hesitantly replace the boats and canoes that once plied across the channel. The Development cycle of Mattancherry still lets it hold onto the oldest Synagogue in the common wealth countries (built -1568 AD), but forbids it to hold on to the Jewish families.


(Presently there are believed to be only two Jewish families, the rest have sold property and migrated to Israel). Closed doors and windows in unusual happy, bright colours eerily symbolise this paradox of this development. The Development cycle did not allow for Mattancherry to hold on to the spice trade, but welcomed replacements
by more lucrative options like tourism. The shops originally run by the Jews are now run by Kashmiris- probably refugees displaced from their origins. Mattancherry- a heritage precinct has left us questioning the responsibilities of development.


Can development mean displacing progressive societies and freezing a city in time for tourists to come and see? Why was this gap between the old and new not bridged? How did development lead to the death of a progressive town? What went wrong or then did it go right !! Maybe you may want to tell us….
































desmond, sudeep and tarika

Day 13

Woman’s Day

Malampuzha Dam
13th May 2006
2km

A Gentle Morning Start
We awoke at 4.30am and went for a gentle run along the dam wall to catch the sunrise. Alas, the clouds keep the sunrise deep under wraps. The dam was calm apart from fisherman kicking their way around the lake sat in car tyre tube- rafts. The freshwater prawns they caught (whilst smoking cigarettes and chatting) looked delicious enough to entice us back to an early breakfast and chai! My friend Jenny joined us later in the day. Over to you Jenny!

Pete

Perumbavoor to Aluva
13th May (afternoon run)
15kms

I’m Jenny – I’m from Sweden but have lived in South Africa since 2004. It was in South Africa that I was introduced to long distance running, and it’s also where I got to know Pete. For me, running is about building strength for my body and inner self. After a stressful day there is nothing more relaxing than a long run. It gives me time to re-focus, meditate and start all over again. When I heard about Heels on Fire I decided to join the team in Kerala for 10 days. And here I am - at the Government Guest House in Aluva.

My first Indian run…
I flew in to Kochi earlier this morning - my first time in India. I came off the flight feeling nervous, curious and very excited abut the week ahead. What would it be like to run here – as a woman, and given the humid climate! I didn’t have to wait long to find out. The guys were keen to go for a late afternoon run.

Weaving in and Out
We started off in heavy traffic and most of my attention was on cars, motorcycles, buses and trucks. I have never seen anything like it. Soon the traffic eased off and I could focus more on the wider surroundings.

Women’s Vote
As a female in shorts and top I was a bit concerned I would offend people, but it was fine. The men seemed somewhat unsure on how to react to me. They were shaking hands with the guys, but left me with a friendly smile. But, I caught a number of women surreptitiously smiling at me from doorways and from the back of motorbikes. It felt good to get this small but important vote of confidence. This contrasted to the guys who had rarely been able to engage with women along their journey so far.

Riverside Stop
A boy called out to us from his house. His name was Hanif and he invited us to see the river at the back of his house. The guys followed him and his father, while I stopped to chat with one of his eight sisters, his mother and friends. Unfortunately, they didn’t speak much English. But I understood that they wondered if I was married. They asked how many children I had and where they were. They looked very concerned when I told them that I was not married and had no children. They then asked the same about the guys. The women looked even more concerned. They asked why, and I didn’t really know what to say. Luckily the others came back and it was time for us to move on. I guess that being unmarried at our age sits at odds with the society here. ( I think the women were more concerned about unmarried people hanging out together!)

A Man’s world?
Another thing that occurred to me while passing all the small stalls along the road was that they were all run by men. The tea and coffee stands were run by men and frequented exclusively by men, as were the fruit and vegetable stalls. When I think about it, even the guesthouse was staffed by men.. This is quite different from my experience in South Africa were women run most small roadside businesses. This is something I would like to know more about. Hopefully over the next 10 days I can learn more about the lives of women here.

Day’s End
We rounded off my first run in the tropical heat and dust of the evening. Later we stretched out on the lawn; as we chatted the sun went down, the Mynnah birds squawked and the fruit bats unfurled their wings. The heat and humidity had been much greater than I expected. 15kms was more than enough, considering I slept for less than two hours in the previous 24 hours!

After a shower and a delicious dinner I was happy to crawl into bed. I can only conclude that my first day in India was brilliant and I am assured that I will have an exciting week ahead.

Jenny

Day 12

12th May 06

Kanjikode – Malampuzha Dam
12kms

Highlands and the Lowlands - Palakkad District

Moving south from Silent Valley we drove through the bustle of Palakkad town to the Government guesthouse in Malampuzha. There is a noticeable contrast between the highlands and lowlands of Palakkad town. The lowlands are thick with paddy fields, cashews (hidden in thick outer canopies), pepper and rubber trees. While the highlands look both ominous and resplendent, with high mountain peaks, tangled forests and deep ravines.
Life Soil
Running in the late afternoon sun I retold Dan and Rahul what I heard the night before. A man at a coconut stand had explained to me that soil is a key factor in the lives of people along the rural roads here. Folklore associates soil's connection to the characteristics of people who live from the land. Where the soil is ‘loose’ - the people take life at a more laid back pace; loose soil is said to develop an idle streak! Where the soil is hard and difficult, the people who cultivate it are dedicated, hard working and resilient – or so the story goes. Palakkad’s deep red soil is virtually solid. As we discussed the possibilities of the soil we ran on - we covered some 5kms in glorious oblivion.

As we turned from the precarious 'A' road to a tranquil 'B' road we came across T.V Lijo, a primary health worker. Lijo stood in front a prefab building marked 'Early Cancer Detection Centre'. We have seen hospitals in all the major cities, but this was the first rural clinic we had come across.
Kerala has the best health care systems in India, and has been compared to Cuba for its ability to provide quality health to all citizens, urban and rural.
Reaching Out
Lijo took time out to give me a tour of the facility, showing me an array of equipment and awareness leaflets (in Malaylam and English). There is a team of health professionals who reach out to surrounding villages with awareness campaigns on the symptoms of cancer. Mouth cancer is especially high in the area because chuna (lime) and tobacco – (ingredients of beetle-nut chewing) burn into the soft mouth tissue, potentially leading to cancer.
This four-room clinic assesses around 300 patients a month. I saw a web-cam and a large TV screen. Referrals go to Thrissur (60kms away) or even further, so the web-cam enables doctors in Thrissur to assess patients ‘remotely’. It struck me that in my own work history of developing primary health care facilities in rural regions in the Pacific and Africa, I had never seen such prudent technology.
As we said goodbye I looked back to see Lijo standing beside the clinic's huge satellite dish.

Riding Along
As we passed tidily irrigated paddy fields, three men, all squeezed onto a single seat 'Hero Honda' motorbike, waved us to stop. With a swirling hand gesture they asked why we were running. A fair question! We managed to explain ourselves in a mixture of Malalyam, Hindi and English, drawing laughs and confused looks.
In the distance we spotted Dez and Sudeep having chai (tea) under a Banyan tree at a small roadside hut. We joined them for a bit. The fast flowing conversation traversed through tales of a beautiful little girl who appeared - observed us for a minute - before disappearing back into the woods. She was a 'tribal' from the interior of the highlands – a local term used for people who live in the forests.

Real Dangers
As we trotted off we were advised that we should be careful of snakes on the road ahead. Two weeks ago a snake had bitten a 'planter' (rich farmer). The unfortunate man died, days later, in spasms of agony.
With kites and eagles circling overhead, and the three of us fighting for the middle point of the road (away from the verges), we climbed onto the small tourist haven of Malampuzha - home to the Rock Gardens and Malampuzha Dam. Running through the Saturday afternoon tourists, on the wall of the dam at sunset, was a perfect finish to a close to perfect run. Palakkad will hold a special place in our memories.
Pete

*For further discussion on subjects raised in this article please refer to the Development and Photography section of the Discussion Forum.

Scenes from Kerala

A selection of images captured by Desmond Roberts in Permabavur, Aluva and Cherai beach area on 13th and 14th of May 2006.

Day 11

11th May 2006
Silent Valley, 20km

Today was always going to be a little bit special from a runner’s perspective as we went deeper into Silent Valley, and so it proved to be. Even Stevie and Sudeep succumbed to the burning desire to join in the run.

Silent Valley is remote, and the further you wind and twist your way into the interior, the more the sense of isolation increases. As does the gut feeling that you are entering an ancient land that deserves and demands respect. I had a persistent mental image of signs I had seen many times before at touristy sites stating, ‘Leave only your footsteps behind.’ One should be humble in the presence of stunning natural beauty and character - share and revel in it, but leave it as undisturbed as on arrival. I then saw a sign that I’d never seen before in India stating that the National Park was a plastic free zone. It brought a satisfied smile to my face.

The serene silence of Silent Valley
Spread over 90 square kilometres the Silent Valley is a virgin forest situated in possibly the least violated, extensive patch of tropical rain forest remaining in the Western Ghats. This relative isolation has allowed for the preservation of fauna and flora in the valley over the 50 million years that is believed to be its evolutionary age. It has survived and flourished and become an important ecological oasis. We all agreed that a ‘then and now’ photographic sequence would probably metamorphose into a 'spot the difference competition' if motorcycles and jeeps were excluded. We did run for a good 10 kilometres before sighting a bus. Making the most of this rare freedom we ran three abreast down the winding valley road.

We passed no one for a considerable distance, which made this run distinctly different. This combined with the breathtaking views down into the valley and of the imposing rock faces that touched the clouds above us lent a feeling of total separation. Then my mobile phone in my backpack went ‘beep-beep’! In the blink of an eye both the technological and natural worlds in which we live collided. In the context of the day it seemed poignant, as here in our modern technological world was an example of a simple and sustainable existence.

We also came face-to-face with what can only be described as the wildest of monsters, foaming at the mouth and with eyes that screamed out, ‘I’m bad, you’re mine, all three of you, bring it on!’ In hindsight it was probably our imagination running wild and it could have been just an inquisitive but fearful wild dog or fox.


People seemingly walk further and we passed women carrying jack fruits and bundles of logs on their head. Home made wooden fences marked the perimeter of houses. Rubber trees grew in abundance and we got a glimpse of the how rubber trees are tapped for the sap – the latex. Trees lined the road with protruding coconut shell cups poised ready to capture the latex after the trunk had been tapped in the morning. The collected latex is then poured into trays, hardened with formic acid and then passed through metal presses to produce a sheet of rubber for the market place. In the era of synthetic rubber, it might appear minimalist, but appeared to be a sustainable source of rubber. Rubber continues to be one of the major crops of Kerala. Wonder what the impact of globalisation has been on this?

An eye on the environment

Consciousness of environment and sustainable development appeared to be everywhere. We passed a sign - ‘Fresh Water is Power, Act Now, You Can Help,’ which served to highlight the awareness that water is a precious commodity that needs protecting in order to secure a prosperous future. Despite being a rain-kissed state, certain parts of this state suffer severe water shortages. An article in today’s newspaper predicted a perhaps welcome early arrival of the monsoon, but also a slightly less than average overall rainfall. The authorities claim that the shortage is negligible, but there should be proper methods to utilise the rainwater without allowing it to flow to the seas. It doesn’t go on to explain what these methods are, or should be.
Into a wall of rain

We were to witness for ourselves this early arrival. The temperature noticeably dropped in an instance. A sudden chill that would have made the hardiest of salty sea dogs batten down the hatches rattled our bones. The sky turned a bizarre luminous tangerine colour and we got the feeling that a natural force was about to be unleashed. Having witnessed the alluring power of pristine nature all day and we were now about to witness another powerful facet of nature. Sand from the road swirled up whipping our legs and peppering our eyes, and bits of trees flew over our shoulders. We felt hesitant and excited at the same time and tried to push on as we felt comfortable and in the zone, but it soon became apparent that the only zone we were in was a slightly uncomfortable, unfamiliar and unsettling heavily atmospheric one. We needed to remove ourselves and let the storm do its business. Ten minutes after entering the safety of the jeep it turned pitch black as sheets of tropical rain descended.

Dan