Caught In Between (Part IV)
This is the fourth installment in a multi-part series narrating Beirutista's upbringing abroad and her wrestling between different cultures. See earlier posts in this series here: Part I , Part II , Part III After Paris, I flew on a one-way ticket to Beirut, where my mother met me. I recall assuring her that Lebanon was my motherland, that the time had come for my permanent move to the country, and that I could no longer deal with the tainted breed of Lebanese expat living on foreign soil. I'd had quite enough of their antics--their claims to being smarter, prettier, and more cunning than those in whose countries they were now making residence. In fact, according to Lebanese ideals, somebody cunning and sly is usually hailed for his ability to cut corners and get away with it, all while coming out ahead. In the Western world, we call those folks scumbags. I thought that in Lebanon, I'd finally discover the unadulterated Lebanese, gushing with warmth and chaleur, eager