A lot has changed in 16 weeks

Except for my coffee

My first time back

It’s been 16 weeks since the first article, “Would you judge a book by its cover?” in Tuesdays@Starbucks. It’s been only 16 weeks, but why does it feel like an eternity?

Starbucks started opening up for delivery, pick-up, and for whoever claims the only three seats at the store that I frequent. Curious to observe the dynamics, I spent three hours on the corner table unmasking every time I take a sip of coffee.

*Waiting outside for their drink. The sanitizing arsenal!*

Taking my temperature with a contactless device, Rony cleared me to enter. They made sure my table was freshly sanitized. No one claimed any of the other two seats during. If you’re there for pick up, you’d order outside the store, someone would run in, make your drink, and hand it to you. I always wished that the Middle East would have the Starbucks app activated. In hindsight, maybe it’s a blessing that it’s not. You actually get to have some interaction with Maria, Hovig, Rony, Elie, Mike, or Eddy. They’re cordial and helpful.

The constant acute change

I did some work, but my main objective was to write this piece. A lot happened in the past 16 weeks. A lot, since the Oct 17 (2019) Lebanese revolution.

We weren’t in normal conditions. Roads were disrupted, people were losing their jobs, kids out of school, the army on the streets, and politicians ranting on TV. Good guys got louder, people in power played the victim, and the economy collapsed. The government is still in denial. Nothing made sense, including the weather. Thunderstorms one day and nearly 40-degree temperatures in the usually sweet, fresh month of May.

When we were hoping for a swift change in the system and to rebuild our republic, the stars conspired to bring about a newer disruptor — COVID. When we were hoping to climb to the normalcy of other states, COVID brought everyone down.

Welcome to the new normal. Everything has changed. Online became bigger: schooling, shopping, talking, visiting, dining, dating, worshipping…. Social has become more about distancing than being together. No more explaining to tourists that when greeting, the French kiss twice, Lebanese thrice. Today, Kissing? No! Touching? God forbid! It’s hand sanitizer and face mask time. Quarantine yourself and your dearest ones.

This lady distracts my thoughts as she orders half a dozen drinks while her husband waits in the car. I’m sure she has a story. It made me think about the people I met here who were strangers and not anymore.

What’s everyone doing?

I wonder how’s Ziad managing without his daily scone? Is Tati reading as much as she loves to? I know Gus was gardening until Fall hit South Africa. Anthony is roaming Lebanon, promoting small restaurants. I think Tina’s life coaching has picked up. I bet Ashraf and Emily are busy with their two little ones in Indiana. Is Joe still taking hours to finish his coffee (happy birthday)? Julien is in the South of France, building up his company to support his travels. Ralph is at Wharton, maybe in lockdown, and still reading Ray Dalio? Corinne and Nada are having fun with their daughters, or their little ones are getting on their nerves? Happy belated birthday Yara. Are Lynn’s parents more lenient about her bedtime? Did she pick up a new series to binge on Netflix? I bet younger Tina’s getting the training of a lifetime becoming a nurse.

COVID is good news for some

COVID brought the best gift to the people in power — a break. A break from the pressure to change and to leave their positions of power. Changemakers who were exerting pressure got distracted by the new world developments. Change on people in power will be coming, nonetheless.

For others, they coped and made it “good news.” They took the time to clean up their apartments, sort through things, baked, cooked, took up a new hobby, an online course, hoarded stuff, got rid of stuff, planted their backyards, front yards, and their village groves. Some need help. Correction: The majority needs help.

The weed pickers

*Fadi is turning his village property to a producing one.*

These are the ones who do smaller things with a consequential impact. They are positive people. They pluck the weeds suffocating the good, they nurture and make room for change and growth, and they’re humane to the core. I admire weed pickers. Lebanon will rise again because of their efforts.

For example, some of them are encouraging planting and cultivation for whoever can and within their immediate means. A few weed pickers are supporting a national awareness food security campaign.

Some of them are their usual sarcastic-selves-for-a-good-cause (Nat and Nad :-)!

Others roll up their sleeves, put on their boots, do it, make a case for it, and encourage everyone else to follow suit.

My friends Fadi and Wassim and their friends on food security.

And some of the weed pickers are masters of augmented inspiration (Thank you, Nadine, and friends).

Nadine Labaki and friends never cease to inspire us.

Everything has drastically changed. Until we have carved the new normal, my story-telling continues, every Tuesday, until the end of the year. And my coffee stays black. So, there!