Then I went back to the daily grind of DC and the blog went by the wayside.

There were so many thoughts, emotions, experiences during the 3 weeks in Lebanon. They were too overwhelming to capture in words.

Though everyone knows how small Lebanon is and that everyone knows everyone, I am still amazed at every coincidence and my connecting web of people.

I hired an assistant in Lebanon to follow up with the organizations I talked to and get additional still photos. She told me about an organization I didnot get a chance to visit, and then told me that one of their executives was in DC. I jumped on the occasion thinking this person may be here for a short time and that I had to meet her. I turns out she is an American who went to live for 4 years in Lebanon and helped start the organization and was now living in DC. We met twice, talked Lebanese politics and brainstormed about my film proposal. Of course, she knew most of the people I interviewed and many more in common. It seems the distance between Beirut and Washington is not that big.

Followed up with a researcher I hired and collected photos from organizations. I organized all the information I got from the trip.

Did more online research and learned so much more about the topic. Worked further on the outline and proposal draft.

I interviewed executives from different organizations who had been working on the women’s quota proposal that was submitted to the parliament.

Interviewed a professor expert on the topic who filled in the historical context. Wanting to film Broll of students on campus, I was sent to get a permit. As I walked into his office and explained what I need to film, we realized we knew each other in undergrad many moons ago. It was a fun surprise and made the shoot easy.

I filmed 2 talk shows she was on. The mood of elections is very focused on other urgent matters of fights between the 2 major political blocks. Wondering if I should have chosen a production time outside the elections.

I started contacting production freelancers hoping to line up an AD/PA. Visited a production company and starting getting in the gear of action. Filmed Broll from the car, billboards, conversations with family and friends recording their views on current politics.

I stumbled by chance upon the new offices of LADE that moved to a bigger fancier building close to where they used to be. Everyone I talk says good things about Ziad Baroud, the minister of interior who used to be secretary general of the organization.

What followed was a series of unpacking, figuring out internet connections, charging batteries, family reunions, jet lag and adjustment to sounds and smells of Beirut. New buildings, new street, and old areas I navigated through unconsciously surprising myself how I would remember as if I was here yesterday, while forgetting basic details, like which floor my aunt lived on and taking the elevator, one floor after the other to check out the doors.

Beirut looks different every time I visit. Sometimes it’s colorful and stunning. Sometimes, there’s a cloud of pollution that gives everything a gray hue and the buildings look all the same blocks of squares in a beige color with no order or organization.

As I am writing this, I realize no one clapped upon landing the way the Lebanese used to do on MEA in the past. Guess most of the passengers are veteran travelers jaded by now by their landing experiences.

I dragged my feet, in no rush, wondering if I should wait in the airport for the following plane from Paris that hopefully would have my luggage. After passing customs, I approached the lost baggage desk. The clerk was surprised that I knew my baggage was not there, but didn’t find any info in her computer. She instructed me to wait at the belt and come back afterwards if they didn’t turn up. I waited till the last luggage was rotating on the belt, then headed back to what became a line of angry passengers with missing luggage. The wait allowed me to emotionally calm my nerve and breath in the culture shock of arriving… to my country’s renovated airport.

I was given a form and phone number to call the following day when supposedly the luggage would arrive.
I walked out and joined my family who had been waiting for more than an hour.

We drove to the center of Beirut passing elections billboards for the various political parties.

Welcome to Beirut!

I had dreaded this so much and there it was. As I boarded the plane, the flight attendant reading my name, said she was wondering where I was. I had alerted a close relative who works for MEA that I would appreciate help making sure the luggage was safe. The luggage was not there. What I was offered instead was a fancy wide seat in business class, first class treatment to newspapers, VIP food and a lounging chair.

Double checking about the luggage proved fruitless. Now owing them a favor, I could not complain anymore and was almost ready to walk out of the plane wishing I could protest that I would not fly without the luggage.

The doors of the plane were locked within eye sight and the cushy seat
forced me to relax and shut up.

4 or so hours were spent partly worrying, partly letting go, partly sleeping, and partly anticipating the emotionally charged arrival that every trip to Lebanon carries.

A cool gray French sky. I took in the smells of France, its air, mixed with gasoline, tobacco and it was all a happy nostalgic moment of a country I grew up fancying and stealing any moment to be in.

Flashbacks to school time spent in Lyon when I was 11, and later trips to Paris. I felt home.

Started walking along the side walk in the circle that makes the terminal, just grasping minutes of French. After some dawdling, day dreaming, and wandering, I walked back in to figure out how to reach Terminal F. The search turned out more complicated and longer than expected, intensified by lack of sleep and lethargy. Finally got on the shuttle with a large group of TaeKwondo athletes from Tahiti returning from la Coupe de France. It was fun to speak with them and listen to their peculiar french accent.

By the time I arrived the MEA counter where I had to get a boarding pass, I was getting late. Then had to stand in the never-ending, slow-moving security-check line.

8:30 am French time. I already switched my watch to be in the zone. few more hours to my Middle East plane. Not enough time to go to Paris back and forth.

Stuck my camera bag in the overhead on the plane. As soon as I sat down, the young woman next to me interjected: “You’re a filmmaker!” Very surprised I said yes. She had noticed my porta brace bag. Turns out she herself is a documentary filmmaker. She made a film in Ghana and had returned from the Visions du Reel festival in Switzerland where her film screened. She also won Silverdocs!

The hour from DC to Philly went by so fast, chatting about our films, trips, festivals. Akosua Adoma studied in LA and now lives in VA. I promised to attend her film “Mebroniba”/My White Baby. screening at Silverdocs upon my return.