Home Sweet Beirut
There’s nothing like a long stretch of traveling to make you really appreciate home. Wherever that home may be.
After eight weeks of constant movement, constant change, constant adaptation, I really started to long for the familiarity of home. For meals cooked in my own kitchen, my own bed and sheets, and conversations with old friends. My life in Beirut.
It’s funny how the shift happens. Last year I lived in Beirut and went “home” for the summer. This year I lived in Beirut and went traveling for the summer, then came “home” to Beirut. A subtle yet perceptible change.
As I rode in the taxi from the Beirut airport to my apartment I took in all the familiar sights that I hadn’t seen in two months: the nondescript apartment buildings, the chaotic and frenzied driving, the obtrusive billboards, and then that first shimmering glimpse of the sea. I was home.