As a proud Dubai resident— going on 9 years now — I have grown accustomed to certain luxuries. A lot of people ask me, you’re American — what made you leave what some would argue as the world’s most advanced country?
My answer was simple — it’s an easy life here. Transportation is cheap and relatively easy. I don’t have to spend hours of my life stuck in traffic (I know Sharjah residents would want to kill me right now) It’s a super safe country — and there is a vibrant nightlife scene for young people (34 is still young right?), so we can never complain of being bored.
I never felt more blessed living in Dubai than when I visited Lebanon this summer.
Don’t get me wrong, Lebanon is perhaps one of the most amazing countries in the world — and I’m not saying that just because I am Lebanese. Ask anyone who has visited the country and they will gush about the friendly people, amazing food, beautiful landscapes, rich history and phenomenal nightlife.
But, ask Lebanese people about their daily life and they will offer you up a seasoned platter of choice curse words — in typical Lebanese fashion.
People spend hours of their life in traffic, they plan their entire days around their electricity schedule and cost of living is becoming astronomical.
I remember I wanted to see a friend of mine living just outside of Beirut, so my aunt graciously let me borrow her car.
“It’s just 10 minutes out of Beirut,” she said. When I went downstairs, I discovered her car was blocked by at least eight neighbours’ cars. (There are no proper car parks in Beirut’s old neighbourhoods). While most westerners would be aghast at how people park their cars in the most creative locations (in the middle of the street sometimes), as a Lebanese, I find it extremely funny and commendable.
Anyway, back to my story. My cousin knocked on the neighbour’s door (he is responsible for the building). He then proceeded to call all eight neighbours, to come down at 10pm and move their cars.
If this was Dubai, I would have been outraged at the huge inconvenience and for making me late by 1 hour (I immediately got a flash back of being honked at in Dubai, a nanosecond after the traffic light turned green) but in Lebanon, you just have to smile and say 'c’est la vie' and realise this is your daily life — so no point in complaining — just try to find the humour in it all.
So many of you are probably asking now, what is the moral of your story? Well, my dear fellow expatriates (as I’m sure most of you who are reading this are), there is no moral.
Rather, I offer you this unsolicited advice: Appreciate the truly spoiled life that many of us live here, be mentally and emotionally prepared for any transition back to your home country and salute the people back home living the struggle and fighting the good fight because one day it will be our life.
