From Arabic lessons to Zionist Cows

As usual, by the time my pay cheque cleared at the start of the month, I had already spent most of it.

This time, however, I have a legitimate reason for such a splurge. I am learning Arabic.

I won’t bother delving into how difficult a tongue it is to learn – anyone who has ever tried to master even a few phrases will know all about that.

What I like about it is its lucidity; it’s interchangeability and adaptability. A few, select, words or phrases can be used in a variety of situations in which the may mean anything and nothing. It is reassuring to begin to comprehend even a tiny bit of what is said around you all day long.

I have even begun to understand a little of the call to prayer that shudders through my flat, living, as I do, exactly next to particularly unattractive and loud mosque.

Arabic lessons are the reason the blog’s been a little on the quiet side recently. Not that thing’s haven’t been happening here.

There’s been threats from Netanyahu (not that they are anything particular original). We’ve had Kouchner here interfering and insisting that France won’t interfere in the formation of the Lebanese cabinet. I went to an NGO meeting about the Arms Trade in the ME. There’s even been reports of sinister violations of Lebanese sovereignty close to the southern Blue Line.

Israel spies operate in particularly elaborate costumes nowadays.

On Wednesday I am going to Bourj al-Borejnah, one of the Palestinian refugee camps on the southern fringes of the city. There, there is a hospital where the doctors are often required to perform surgery by torchlight, so frequent are the power cuts.

I am both excited an apprehensive about entering the camps, but Beirut has only been presented to me while wearing its make-up. On Wednesday, I get to see her has she saddles out of bed.