This week we've continued to settle into our new routines. I have been going to work each day to prepare my syllabus, to write a proposal for a new MA in American Studies at AUB, and to write my book (I've actually resumed the process of writing the book). I'm teaching a course called, "America in the Middle East, the Middle East in America." I'm organizing this course to focus on imagined geographies as a means to show how both the "Middle East" and "America" are imagined spaces that are produced through culture artifacts. Moreover, I want students to understand how both regions produce each other.
The MA in American Studies will be the first of its kind in the Middle East. It will recruit students from across the Middle East, as well as U.S. and European students who will pursue dual degrees with AUB and their "home" institution. Locating American Studies in the Middle East poses a really interesting issue for the discipline of American Studies: what does American Studies become when it is an area studies? And, what does American Studies look like from a part of the world that has directly experienced the consequences of U.S. empire.
The boys are still enjoying school but our oldest son is experiencing a deep sense of home-sickness and what can only be called "culture shock." More than anyone else in our family, he is attached to his things and his "house." We are talking to him about how "home" is the place where we're all together, and is not defined by the objects within our Albuquerque house, but he is not buying what we're selling. I think I need to download for him the Burt Bacharach song, "A house is not a home."
We're confident he'll establish attachments here over time, but for now he's sad and somewhat anxious about everything. "Will there be war here?" "Will we have enough money to get back to the United States?" Although much of his fantasy play involves guns and other weapons, he is terrified of the soldiers we encounter almost everywhere in Beirut. He's also very sensitive to all of the noise in the city; car horns, construction, fireworks, etc. He has a much-anticipated play-date after school on Monday; we are hoping that having a friend will ease his fears.
Our youngest son, (who turns 6 next week), has made a good friend (Lebanese) at his school. Apparently when this kid described Solomon to his parents he told them, "his name is Solomon, and he is of the brown-skin people." A few days later, the friend asked Solomon why "you have black skin and your parents don't." Solomon shrugged his shoulders and responded, "my parents have light skin, and, actually, I have brown skin." There weren't any followup questions.
We took both boys to a Tae Kwon Do school here in Beirut. I think it's going to be good for them (they've done TKD for the last year and have really love it). After the class we walked from the TKD club to our house (about three miles). Along the way we stopped downtown for ice-cream. The recently-redeveloped downtown has hopping with couples, families, and many. many children with their domestics. Downtown has a mix of new and old mosques and churches (and one synagogue that I have yet to see). There are also many upscale shops and restaurants. It was nice to see such a lively public culture. There were also many people strolling along the corniche.
Guilty pleasure of the week: chicken tawouk sandwich with garlic sauce, pickle, french fries, coleslaw, and ketchup.
Here are some photos of AUB's flora. The sunset picture was taken from our balcony.












