Za’atar is a blend with deep historical and emotional roots. The smell is strong but not hot, rich but sharp, lemony and a little earthy. Za’atar has an amazing and unique flavor that is aromatic, and tangy at the same time. Eaten in the Middle East for centuries, Za’atar has a fascinating history. The word refers both to the alluring spice mixture that you eat at home, and to the wild oregano. It’s been part of the Mediterranean diet for thousands of years.
This day is different from the other 365 days because it is made to celebrate the person who brought us into this world. We have a hundred different memories of our mothers, a few more prominent than the rest, but they’re all funny, warm, and loving. My mother is a life giver, a home, a friend, a gift with no ribbons, and a star with no award.
Things we never thought
Thoughts we never think
Things we put behind
Things we never find
Things we never forget
Never wondering why
Times that we forget
And things we burry behind
Things that we miss
Are easily found
Things we never hide are our
Heritage, Roots, and Pride
Youmna Medlej is a photojournalist born in 1956. She studied photography in France and started making reportages on geographic and historical landmarks upon her return to Lebanon, as a way for Lebanese to rediscover their country after the war. But it was during her participation in Solidere’s excavations in the early 1990s that she discovered and developed her passion for heritage and archeology. At the time, the market was virtually devoid of heritage-oriented material. She thus resolved to introduce the young and old readers to the most prominent cultural and historic icons of their country.
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This post is a general overview of architecture in Lebanon as I’ll be going more in-depth as we go along, but I thought it would be an easy start with this one.
As the stillness and splendor of the sea glints,
I casually walk down the open skies facing it. The warm morning sun, wind bearing taste of waves, calming sapphire waters, creases upon the shore,
bringing mild currents,
crashing onto the rocks, carrying with it the crisp salty Mediterranean sea breeze that hum a tune that is forever Ras Beirut.
Good morning everyone,
I am sorry I haven’t posted this week, somehow the garbage crisis got to me and I lost my spirits and couldn’t write anymore. As I stared into my computer day in and day out, I realised that they “the government” have finally managed to rob me of everything. I’ve lost my positivity, somehow it got dissipated among the shouts of the people on the streets and the awful realisation that nothing much is going to be done. Somehow I realised that maybe we are not ready to give it all just yet. Maybe on a national scale we will never be ready. Yet I woke up this morning refusing to give up. Despite the horrendous garbage crisis, Lebanon is still beautiful, its people, its villages, its expression, its food, with that realisation came another one: I am not ready to give up the fight just yet and no they haven’t robbed me of my positivity, on the contrary they have armed me with a will to fight on. There is something about Lebanon, its spirit that lingers above its mountains and on the surface of its sea that attracts me and for that I will carry on.
I will go back to writing tomorrow and I am sorry I had stopped and let them get the better of me. I’ve had 130 days to show that this country is worth the fight and I have the next 235 days to do exactly that. To my Lebanon, I carry on…
It is hard to wait for something you know might never happen, but it’s even harder to sit there and do nothing about it. The fight for justice against corruption is never an easy one. In a country where one feels that their life is similar to a pawn on a chessboard, and action might not lead to much, most Lebanese have resigned to the fate of the majority, which is to live in corruption. Yet as Karl Klaus stated “corruption is worse then prostitution. The latter might endanger the morals of an individual; the former invariably endangers the morals of the entire country.”