I was being mischievous/unethical a couple of days ago and went to a small stall in Old City Jerusalem to buy some gifts for a certain someone. The proprietor, named Abdi was doing the typical Old City sales pitch - incredibly pushy while pretending not to be. It all goes downhill once you walk into the stall.

Generally, I am a bad bargainer and usually avoid buying anything in these stalls because I am being perpetually ripped off. This time however, Abdi’s wares were exactly what I had been searching for.   We chatted it up for a while, and I asked him point blank: “Are you ripping me off?”  Abdi stared at me aghast.  “Of course not!”

Because I wanted to walk away from the store with the ‘Magic carpet’ (which I had yet to find anywhere else), but didn’t want to pay the 400 NIS (almost $110) that he quoted me (with discount) for the pipe and other items, I told him, as I was about to pay up, that I couldn’t find anything but $30 US in my wallet (which was true). He told me to come back the next day (as he was late for a soccer match in Hebron) with the additional $80. I told him that I would if I could find him (the Old City is notoriously confusing).

Later that same day, I decided that he had been a bit dishonest, as I had found the same items for a tenth of the price. So, I decided not to go back the following morning. The scary thing is, we bumped into each other on David St. (near the Church of the Holy Selpuchre) and he recognized me in 2 seconds flat. So, as it dawned on me how bad my luck was, we walked back to his shop and I said that “I was trying to find him” (which was kind of true, because I was considering returning the items), but always get “so lost in the Old City”, and would he “please walk me back to the hostel” so that we could chat about yesterday’s transaction. He was happy to help out, and started to chat with me as we walked.  In a particularly busy section of the Via Delarosa, I lost him by dodging into an underground shop - waited him out for 10 minutes, and escaped with the help of a large sunhat that I purchased, into the Jewish quarter.

More sins, and good deeds that absolved these sins, to come in the near future.

Shopping at Faddoul’s Market for dinner a couple of nights ago reminded me of how pleasant it is to have the assistance of a specialist at various points throughout the day.   In the States, most specialists assist me with things like my network connectivity, or my cell phone plan.  That is all nice and well - but imagine having someone to assist us with things like shopping.  Yes, yes, the rich and wealthy may have personal shoppers, and maybe some of us have refrigerators that order us additional food supplies when we are running low, but how many of us (outside of the deli or baked goods section) have ever received personal assistance when selecting food items from the neighborhood grocer?

That’s right - at Faddoul’s market in Jounieh four nights ago, there was a produce specialist.  And by specialist, I mean Specialist, with a capital S.  This guy was fluent in three languages (Arabic, French, and English).  Not only did he carefully select the ripest, most tender vegetables from the varieties I indicated, but he also suggested complimentary selections (”Perhaps leeks might go well with vine ripened tomatos”).  He then bagged and weighed my veggies.  Talk about service.  Most sommeliers don’t even treat me that well - and at only 750 LL to boot (less than 50 cents US), I walked away a happy happy customer.

Now, if only the Lebanese could apply this level of quality to the customer service in their telecommunications industry.  Produce Specialist anyone?

My beard is gone. Kaput. Shaved off. Down the drain. Funny looks at the super marche in Christian dominated Jounieh, coupled with the fact that my beard/no-mustache combo made me look conspicuously like a member of Fatah Al Islam, hastened my decision to bic it all off. On Friday, I made a visit to Halou’s coiffure in the old souq and had the head beard tamed a bit. Now I look nice and respectable.

Lebanon is gorgeous. Visited Harissa and the Citadel in Byblos. It is strange to see Arabic writing on Christian monuments, but after all, the Maronite’s are more Christian than any Evangelical in the States.

Power is a bit finnicky - the apartment looses electricity about eight times a day. That means no AC until sometime after dark. Could be worse though - the temperatures aren’t nearly as bad as they were in Israel.

Off to the beach for an Almaza. Keskun for now.

Ok, any attempts at blogging regularly went straight out the window when I landed in Tel Aviv.

I leave for Beirut tomorrow,  via the West Bank’s Allenby/King Hussein Bridge into Amman from East Jerusalem.  I’ve got to run up to Ramat Gan to grab my Jordanian visa and then hope for the best when I land in Beirut.  So far I have been lucky enough to be remain stampless crossing into and out of Israel - but we will see how long that lasts.

A short list of some of the places I have been in the last two weeks:  Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, the Old City in Jerusalem, the Kotel (Western Wall) on the 9th of Av (for those of you who know, the anniversary of the destruction of the 1st and 2nd temple), Ein Gedi, the Dead Sea, Massada, the Sea of Gallilee, the Golan Heights, Petra in Jordan, Dimona (home to Israel’s not so secret nuclear power plant), and so much more.  I am going to go back and reconstruct my journey next week in Lebanon - so don’t get grump with me yet.

From the Holy Land,

Brady

So, Jonny and I spent all day at the gallery. Prepping our collateral for the Gallery’s fall shows.

Around 12am, I upgraded from Khaos to Unbound. Now I am really feeling good. I have a 14 hour flight ahead of me, so I figure that I don’t really need much sleep between now and the time I board the plane. Plus, last time I flew Lufthansa, I got this sweet pair of eye goggles/googley-eyes that might help me to doze off for 14 hours. I can’t even tell you the last time I slept for 10 hours, let alone 14. Starting to get excited.

Next stop, Nyquil induced sleep.

Ok, ok - LameFace still isn’t launched - but, in the meantime, I figured that I needed somewhere to jot down some quick notes over the next couple of months while uh “traveling.” Uh huh.

To all you LameFaced reformants, spell checkers, sun blockers and i-dosers: these are the real life adventures of the world’s original lame face. No fronting. Seriously.

I’ll be at the gallery on Wednesday. You should stop by and see me. Otherwise, lets me up in Beirut. See you all soonsies.