Final Thoughts

We are at the end of our trip. Ellen Beth and I enjoyed our travels together, we had some interesting experiences and many stimulating conversations, and Sasha made an engaging threesome for our travels in Syria. I have been thinking about my observations on the long journey home.

The Middle East continues to be place of mystery, confusion, and disorganization, at least in the western sense. Generalizations are dangerous, particularly as our visit to Lebanon and Syria was very short. Also, there are distinct differences between Lebanon and Syria; for that matter, every country in the Middle East is unique culturally and linguistically, notwithstanding commonalities of history, language, and tradition.

Lebanon seems chaotic and a bit paranoid, though it is more developed than Syria and has a higher socioeconomic level in general. Syria is an authoritarian regime; the border crossing, though with some administrative steps to follow, seemed rationale. The government imposes order; the iron fist has been wrapped in gauze but it is still clenched to create social order and control. Returning to Lebanon at the land border, we went to one clerk, then another, until we stood in what we hoped would be the correct line (though it was labeled for holders of Arab passports). Until our passports were stamped, we did not know whether we were in the correct line to get the passports stamped, or would be required to obtain re-entry visas in a different long line. It took us almost an hour to get back into Lebanon; it took 15 minutes to get into Syria two days earlier.

At the Beirut airport, both upon arrival and departure, our passports were inspected many times by various officials looking for an Israeli stamp. The final inspection was at the ramp as we were entering the plane leaving Beirut. Ellen Beth and I chuckled at the ridiculous and wasteful inspections—notwithstanding, what would they do with us if they found a stamp, as we were departing? At passport control, the young woman was confused by the stamp from “Guadeloupe” – one of my exits or entries to St. Maarten. She showed it to another officer, asking if it had anything to do with Israel. We concluded that the Lebanese should have more to worry about than these repeated reviews of a visitor’s passport.

The people we met were varied and interesting. Our Syrian “service” driver turned out to be great—he brought us where we wanted to go, did not overcharge or argue about the agreed upon price, met with us as arranged, and got us back to Lebanon in one piece. He was a big burly character, but congenial in the end. In Beirut, he could not drop us at our hotel as Syrian drivers can only drop off or pick up at the one location for trips to Damascus. A local “service” driver stopped to pick us up, the Syrian waited until Sasha had attempted to negotiate a price to the hotel. When the Lebanese insisted on much more than was appropriate, the Syrian rebuked him, saying: “This guy (i.e. Sasha) lives here. Why are you ______ with him?” So the Syrian turned out to be a mensch!

Other characters and our interactions were equally interesting. There were the Kurdish people from Iraq on our Lebanese guided tours. They were genuinely friendly, and told us that Kurdish Iraq is the only part of that country safe for Americans. It made us think about the possibility (or rather impossibility) of an independent Kurdistan. There were a variety of Lebanese young people on our walking tour, who have come to live and work in Lebanon, to return to their roots. There was Sarah, Rob’s friend, studying political factionalism amongst the Palestinians in Lebanon.

In terms of language, I found my ability to speak hampered by the long time since I was in an Arabic speaking environment and the different accent and vocabulary of Lebanese Arabic. However, when I was able to communicate, my Egyptian came back easily. I do think that I could re-learn spoken Arabic, at least with the help of a tutor or a class. Sasha’s observation that there is a divide between foreigners learning Levantine and Egyptian dialects as the major language programs are in Egypt or Beirut (and soon, Damascus). The dialect one learns shapes ones cultural orientation and research interests. If I were to ever go back to language learning, it would probably make the most sense for me to brush up the Egyptian dialect as that is what pops out of my mouth when I try to speak Arabic, and leave the Levantine dialects to others.

We have had many wonderful mezzas on this trip, from baba to muhammara, hummus to labny. I hope you have enjoyed reading these memoirs as much as I have enjoyed the mezzas! I will post my photos on Photobucket so you can enjoy some of the visual images of my trip.

Ma’a salamma!

Final Day

We set out early to take advantage of our last day of travels, both in Syria and on our trip in general. It is hard to imagine that we will be back to our regular lives in less than 48 hours. But for the time being, we decided to make the most of our time in Damascus, where one still truly feels that Aladdin may pop out from around a corner in the Old City.

Ellen Beth and I wandered through the various suks: spice, gold, textiles. We walked alongside the Umayyad Mosque wall, peeked down alleys and beyond doorways into green and sunny courtyards, the neighborhood hammam, a historic madrasah (school). The morning air in Damascus is clear and cool, though the direct sun warms it quickly. After our walk, the hotel offered to shuttle our bags out of the Old City (or so we thought) in a golf cart. The teenage boy assigned to drive us attempted to shuttle us the wrong way up Straight Street (it appears to be one way). Needless to say, we did not get very far, but we attracted a crowd of arguing Syrians discussing alternate routes out of the city; all, in the end, were impossible.

After lugging our bags to the other end of the Old City, our service driver from two days earlier (with whom we had arranged the return to Beirut) met at us at our pre-arranged rendezvous point. Our first stop on our way out of town was a Shi’ite shrine about 10km from the Old City. We drove through desperately poor, arid neighborhoods of two- story mud block houses and unpaved roads, until we arrived at the Sayidda Zeinab mosque and shrine. The area is a suburb of Iraqi Shi’ite refugees and Iranian visitors. Zeinab was the granddaughter of Muhammad, and the daughter of Ali, who Shi’ites revere as the true successor to the Prophet. Ellen Beth and I wrapped ourselves in out coats, scarves and hoods, and proceeded into the women’s entrance. We were able to enter the Mausoleum even though we later noted in our guidebook that non-Muslims are technically not allowed. The throngs of women praying, wailing, and sobbing was overwhelming. Little children were clutched in their mothers’ arms as they swayed in prayer. The throngs pressed to approach, touch, and kiss the gilt grate surrounding the tomb. Perhaps because we were there at noon prayers, it was particularly crowded. I could see people getting crushed if there had been a panic for any reason.

Our next destinations were two ancient Christian villages perched on cliffs along the Anti Lebanon Mountain range. The first was the village and monastery of Seidnayya, about 40km outside of Damascus. Set on top of a sandstone crag, the monastery was built around a 4th century church, which is one of the holiest Christian sites in the Middle East (outside of Jerusalem) because it houses an icon of the Virgin Mary supposedly painted by St. Luke. Following that, we proceeded another 25 km along the same road to Ma’aloula, another Christian village with a very old church built on a pagan holy site in the 4th century AD at the top of a hill above the village. The approach is through a small gorge that looks like that of Petra but in smaller scale. It is called the St. Thecla Gap, because it was here that St. Thecla (a contemporary of St. Paul) supposedly was saved from soldiers pursuing her. God split the cliff with lightening, enabling Thecla to escape her would be killers. The church is entered through a tiny doorway within the Monastery of St. Sarkis. The altar was reused from the original where pagan sacrifices had been conducted. It is now covered by a small oriental carpet, and lovely 300 year old icons are on the walls. The village of Ma’aloula is also one of gthe only locations in Syria where Aramaic is still spoken. As we walked back down the canyon, a local man greeted us and offered to speak some words of Aramaic. It was hard to distinguish from the Arabic, but the man was cheerful so it was a pleasant interaction. Following a hair-raising ride back to the border and the administrative “who hah” of Lebanese border control (more later) we were back in Beirut for the evening prior to our 3am departure. The day had been crammed full of experiences, giving us lots to ponder.

Damascus Days

Although Lebanon has its charms, by the end of a full week, we were yearning for fresh adventures in a more authentic Middle Eastern environment. Besides, Lebanon is a small country geographically, and its ancient historical sites are limited. With the trips to Baalbek, Byblos, and the south, we had seen many of its highlights. Sasha had recommended that we consider a side trip to Damascus. The only administrative hurdle was obtaining a visa before setting out; with that successfully obtained, we were ready to embark from the station in Central Beirut in a “service” (shared taxi).

Being declared a rogue state by the former US administration, there is trepidation amongst Americans who might want to travel to Syria, and certainly for their family members at home. However, relations between the two countries have warmed considerably, and a new US ambassador is due to arrive in Damascus before summer. In addition, tourism has become a focus for expansion in the Syrian economy, so visitors are welcomed warmly. This member of the “Axis of Evil” looks more welcoming, at least for now.

The service brought us to the border, and after some paperwork both leaving Lebanon and entering Syria, we were on our way. A sign posted behind the counter where our Syrian visas were checked made us chuckle:”If you have any problems in Syria, call the Ministry of the Interior”. The Ministry of the Interior would be the Syrian agency most likely to be causing a foreigner troubles. Syria is an authoritarian state and nothing happens without the government’s knowledge and permission. For example, Sasha received a call from the hotel where he made our reservation a few days earlier, saying that we might have to move to another hotel for the second night if the Syrian government decided that it needed to use the hotel. What other government can commandeer things like this? China comes to mind. In the end, whoever in the government had wanted to book the hotel changed plans, because we have been here for two nights.

The service dropped us at one of the gates of the Old City. The Old City is walled like Jerusalem, and oblong. We walked through the main thoroughfare of the Suk al-Hamidiya, on an east west axis, then turned to proceed onto Straight Street (Via Recta), the main east west thoroughfare from Greek and Roman times. We proceeded to the Christian Quarter, then cut down to the right at the Roman arches into the Jewish quarter. Our destination was the Talisman Palace Hotel, a 300 year old Jewish house converted to a boutique hotel in 2006. These renovations of old houses into hotels and restaurants have accelerated in recent years with the liberalization taking place in Syria under Bashar al-Assad. We read that many of the buildings in the Jewish quarter had been locked up unoccupied since 1948, but are now being opened and rebuilt.

Outside the old city walls, the city is rather ugly. Soviet style blocks of apartments extend for miles. Gentrification has been accelerating for the last few years. There are some glossy English language magazines in the hotel. Here are some of the article titles:

“Unlocking Civil Society: What barriers confront the emergence of true nd independent civic participation?”

“Reshuffling the Deck: Syria has a new economic team. What does it mean for the country’s economic programme?”

We spent much of yesterday afternoon strolling the allies of the Old City, including a visit to the Umayyad Mosque, the fourth most important structure in Islam (following the mosques in Mecca and Medina and the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem). The current mosque stands on a site first built upon by the Aramaeans 3000 years ago. The Romans later built a temple to Jupiter on the site; in the third century Constantine ejected Jupiter, building upon and expanding the structure to become an enormous basilica to honor St John the Baptist, whose head is reputed to entombed in a shrine inside the current mosque. After the Umayyads moved their capital to Damascus in the 8^th century, the basilica was converted to a mosque.

We arrived at the mosque, sure that we were dressed appropriately. I was in my black raincoat (over black slacks), my hood hiding every strand of hair. Ellen Beth had a black scarf over her hair, but her blue jacket was short, so we were directed to another location called the “Putting on Special Clothes Room”. There, we donned brown sack robes with monk-ish hoods. From there, we returned to the main entrance, left our shoes, and entered. When I visited this mosque 38 years ago, we were the only people in the mosque. This time, the mosque was packed with hundreds of people. Sasha commented that many looked like Iranian pilgrims (it is Nairouz, a Persian holiday right now). In addition, there were white robed nuns who were praying at the Shrine of St. John the Baptist. Outside the courtyard there is a shrine to Hussain, the grandson of the Muhammad. Throngs of Iranian pilgrims were waiting to get in; we got in line behind them, but none of us were actually allowed in as the door keeper asserted that it was closing (to much protestation by the waiting crowd). Outside of the courtyard, we stopped to visit the tomb of Salah ad-Din, the Arab military commander who ejected the Crusaders from Jerusalem in the 1100s. Our evening was complete with a lovely Syrian meal at N’Arange, the highlight being a wonderful lamb kebab dish in sour cherry sauce and as an appetizer, a mezza that included a beet salad much like baba ghanough but with beets instead of eggplant.

Today, we spent the day exploring some of the Old City’s highlights, including:

Azem Palace: a building constructed between 1749 and 1752 for the governor of Damascus, As’ad Pasha al-Azem. It was occupied by the same family until the beginning of the 20^th century. Now it has wonderful displays of traditional architecture, customs, handicrafts, religion, etc.

Khan As’ad Pasha: one of the largest and oldest caravanserais in the Old City, with lovely black and white stonework and nine interconnected domes.

St. Ananias Chapel: the original house of the man who converted Saul to St. Paul. The simple stone house is twenty three steps below current street level, with old paintings (prints?) telling the story of St.Paul’s life and conversion.

National Museum: situated outside of the Old City, we wanted to see two rebuilt structures, a second century synagogue from Dura Europas (an ancient Syrian city near the Euphrates that disappeared before 300) and a tomb from Palmyra. The synagogue was fabulous: large walls painted with Biblical scenes. It was unusual because of the depiction of Biblical characters in human form, and they all looked quite Roman. We were able to identify many of the stories (Moses parting the Red Sea, Moses destroying the idols of the Israelites after descending Mt. Sinai, Joseph in his coat of many colors surrounded by his brothers). The Palmyran tomb, called the Hypogeum of Yarhai, is an underground burial chamber from the Valley of the Tombs in Palmyra. It included a magnificent collection of carved white marble figures. As we wandered through the museum, a guard in search of baksheesh, took us to some closed areas to look at a large (two story) wall fresco with Eve holding a large platter of fruit, and Cain and Abel, from the 144BCE. We were not sure from where this fresco had been taken, but it was magnificent.

Throughout the day, we had numerous opportunities for shopping and bargaining. The Old City is full of all kinds of little shops in many suks. Handicrafts of all sorts (metalwork, glass, wood, leather), textiles, spices and soaps, are everywhere. The challenge is to know what one wants and to bargain hard. We stopped several times at the workshop of a middle aged metal worker from Cairo named Hassan. His silver, copper, and brass plates and vessels were wonderful, but he quoted high prices and like many in Syria, did not accept credit cards. In the end, we were unable to strike a deal, because American debit cards do not work in any of the ATMs here. We wondered if this was the result of US economic sanctions which we believe are still in place.

What seems to make the most sense to us is for the US to try to pull Syria out of the Iran orbit and back into the Western sphere. There are lots of Iranians here for tourism and pilgrimage, but most Syrians are Sunni. Exploiting the differences between them would make geostrategic sense. We’ll see if that can happen.Tomorrow we will head out of Damascus to early Christian villages, then back to Beirut for our final evening.

Southern Lebanon

The towns of southern Lebanon—Saida and Sur (Sidon and Tyre)—have a distinctly different atmosphere than Beirut, belying the 40-50 km distance as the crow flies. The trip south by the coastal highway passes beyond Beirut’s urban sprawl, with banana and citrus groves sandwiched between the highway and the beach. There is never really empty landscape to the left of the highway as the terrain rises towards the foothills of the Chouf mountains. Buildings, many in half complete state, dot the landscape until approaching the outskirts of Saida. The Crusader castle at the edge of the harbor is the destination for most tours, though the guidebook describes the souk and alleyways in compelling terms. Having visited Saida 38 years ago, I know that the souk was very attractive, but that is off the itinerary for today.

After the small Crusader fortress, we head south towards Sur and its Roman and Byzantine ruins. We cross the Litani river and one of the many army checkpoints along the road. The river is the demarcation line beyond which the UN’s peacekeeping force monitors the 2006 ceasefire between Hezbollah and Israel. The UN has watching posts to the left of the road; I briefly glimpse a young Asian man in his UN fatigues scanning the horizon with his binoculars. The road itself is quite dense with bumper to bumper traffic. We pass a squalid area; peering down an alley, I notice a large picture of Yasser Arafat suspended above the passageway and realize that the concrete walls along the road enclose a Palestinian refugee camp. A multitude of billboards on the median strip feature images of Shiite clerics, Ayatollahs, and misty eyed “shahids” (martyrs), alongside beauty parlor advertisements, a bridal shop called Angel of Love, fast food joints (Kentucky Fried Chicken and Dunkin Donuts), and other such establishments (Hermonoso Brothers’ California Café!). The dichotomy between the Shiite propaganda and American fast food makes one pause.

The ruins of Sur are lovely in their quiet neglect. They are mostly Roman, though there must be Phoenician remains underground. There are Byzantine tiles floors on top of the Roman ruins, the remnants of green Italian marble columns strewn about. There has not been a dig here in decades, and we are the only tourists visiting this afternoon. The ambiance outside the fenced ruins feels more intense than in other locations. The passersby ignore us. We are hustled onto and off of our bus—is it scheduling or are there other concerns? The cell and radar towers on the horizon are the Israeli border, and we know that around the headland about 12 miles from here is Rosh HaNikra. Saida and Sur, like Akko further south, were important cities during the Crusader period, and share similarities in architecture and layout. Akko is now a world away, and it is hard to imagine ever thinking that an Israeli occupation could be successful here…and it was not.

City Days

Yesterday we had lunch with a friend of Rob’s who is living in Beirut in doing research on political authority in one of the Palestinian refugee camps. Her name is Sarah. She was careful in her observations, a necessary protection for her status and ability to do research. Sarah also noted that she is careful with whom she associates--she has set up a life here—as it can affect her ability to collect information from her informants. Sounds like an anthropological approach to understanding political relationships, similar to a researcher whose lecture on Islamic insurgency in Thailand Grant and I heard at Boston University.

Sarah is teaching English at one of the smaller refugee camps (there are four in and around Beirut), similar to Sasha who is teaching at an after school community center in Shatila. The two had an interesting conversation about their experiences, noting how difficult the Palestinian situation is because they have no legal status in Lebanon (even though many of these Palestinians have lived in these “camps” since 1948. No legal status means that these Palestinians do not have passports, cannot legally work, and have no political representation in the governance of this country. Social services are provided either by themselves and/or through UNRWA, the UN sponsored agency that was established to assist the Palestinians. It is not in the interest of UNRWA to change the situation of the Palestinians, nor do the Lebanese want the primarily Sunni Palestinians to be incorporated into the Lebanese political fabric as it will unbalance it even more (Christian Palestinians, in general, were given citizenship at some point in the past).

The refugee camps are basically run down slums—the tents are long gone. Sixty two years of no legal status is a long time.

Our other lunch discussion topic was Lebanon itself. Is this a failed state? The currency in my opinion has little value. Before the war, the Lebanese pound was some number (I cannot remember exactly, though it may have been somewhere between 2 and 8 to a dollar). Now it is about 1500 to a dollar. Dollars are available at any ATM, and are used interchangeably with Lebanese pounds. In discussions with the young people, they see little evidence of strong central government authority. Cohesion is a function of the balance negotiated between the political entities; religion is the defining characteristic of the political entities. A national social contract seems not to exist; the balance between political entities is fragile.

Walking back to the hotel late yesterday afternoon, we passed through Rue Wadi Abu Jamil, the former Jewish quarter. This had been on our walking tour on Sunday, and our guide had told us not to take photos ostensibly because a political leader (could it be the Prime Minister) had built his residence nearby. The entire street is under construction; the old buildings demolished years ago after the flight of the Jewish community. The synagogue is being restored, but as earlier noted, not for actual use. I wanted a photo of the street, so I could compare it to pictures I took in 1972. I surreptitously tried to take a shot of the street. Not being very good at subtle photography, a young guard approached me after I took the shot and insisted that I delete it (there were guards posted every 50 yards or so up and down the street, not visibly guarding anything). I reluctantly deleted it, but we decided that this made little sense as the buildings going up in the area look to be high end residences. Who would want to live there if you could not take a picture?

Beka’a Valley Travels

Today was a tourist day outside of Beirut; we travelled up and over the Mount Lebanon range to the Beka’a Valley along a winding road, leaving the urban sprawl behind. The scenery changed to rock strewn hills and wadis, with few structures. Many of the houses we saw looked half complete, prompting us to wonder whether we were seeing the impact of war, the shortage of funds, or some other phenomenon. The valley itself was wonderfully green, with the Anti-Lebanon Range rising at the other side of the valley, and beyond, Damascus.

Ksara: a winery founded in 1857 by Jesuit priests; sold to current owners in 1972. It is located on the site of a medieval fortress, with about 2km of underground tunnels dating from Roman times. The tunnels are used for wine storage given their cool, stable temperatures. The Beqa’a Valley is known for its fertility, agriculture, and wine cultivation, notwithstanding the predominance of Shi’ite communities and influence from Iran.

Ba’albek: The “City of the Sun”, site of one of the largest Roman temple complexes in the Middle East. It was sited in a location of abundant spring water, and on strategically based on both east west and north south trade routes. There had been Phoenician and Greek settlements at Ba’albek, but it was the Romans who began construction of the temple complex in 60 BCE, and construction continued at the complex for about 300 years. The temples were built in honor of Jupiter (the largest structure), Bacchus, and Venus. The modern city of Ba’albek is a Shi’ite town; an Iranian built mosque in the Isfahan style is nearby, and the yellow flags of Hezbollah are prominent along with posters of the Ayatollah and Hassan Nasrallah, the party’s leader.

Zahle: a Greek Catholic mountain resort, more like Beirut than Ba’albek in its upscale architecture. Pleasant lunch stop with a delightful mezza.

Aanjar: site of the only Umayyad remains in Lebanon. The location was quiet, the air crisp and clear. The Umayyad caliph Walid I (705-715 ad). He founded this complex as a summer retreat from his capital in Damascus. Some 30 to 50 years later, the complex was destroyed by one of Walid’s competing successors. The current town of Aanjar is mostly Armenian, settled between 1915 and the late 1930s by Armenians fleeing the Turks. The site was isolated and quiet, a lovely respite from traffic and hazy smog of other locations.

Travel north

3/15/10

With all of the sensory input that attends a visit to a place such as Lebanon where realities are blurred and points of reference are so different from our own, vignettes sometimes better describe the experiences one has here:

Our driver to Byblos today described his military service, in which he was sent to Israel for training three times, though for the first, he and his comrades thought that they were headed to Egypt. That was during the civil war. More recently, he served in Iraq, working in administration and as a translator for US troops until he was injured and returned to civilian life. He explained that Christian Lebanese soldiers have served in Iraq because they are highly desired by US forces given their experience with warfare in the Arab world. Interesting….

Today’s journey took us north up the coast, first to Harisa, the site of a large statue of the Virgin of Lebanon, arms outstretched since the 19^th century. Harisa is above the village of Jounieh, now an extension of urban sprawl north of Beirut where the Christian communities fled during the Civil War. Jounieh was the Christians’ access to the world; during the war, twice daily ferries brought people back and forth to and from Cyprus and its international airport in Nicosia. There is still a lot of money in Jounieh, and it looks like the community built up there did not return to Beirut. The billboards along the highway advertized a preponderance of women in wedding gowns, extravagant jewels, and skin tight jeans. I wonder how much research is being done on these conflicting images of women in the Middle East vis-a-vis their roles in traditional society?

After Harisa, we headed to Byblos (Jbail) in Arabic, one of the oldest continually inhabited sites in the world. This honor is also claimed by Damascus; I am sure that there are more such claims around the Middle East and perhaps other regions, as well. That being said, the first evidence of settlement at Byblos is dated to 8,000 years ago, and it is famous as the center of the Phoenician (Canaanite) empire. The Phoenician alphabet was the first which used symbols to represent specific sounds. It was the basis of the Semitic languages, and with the development of written vowels, became the basis for the Greek alphabet as well (according to what I have read). Ancient Byblos had ties and influence from Egypt, hence the Egyptian influenced statuary, ceramics, and other items in the museums we have visited. The complex of ancient buildings in Byblos include Roman ruins, a Crusader castle built to protect the small but still working harbor, and a church built by the Crusaders on the foundation of a Roman temple. We had a great lunch at the Byblos Fishing Club and visited a small display of fossilized fish from the mountains east of Byblos.

Religion plays such a large role in Lebanese society. It is the topic of many conversations. Yesterday’s tour guide quizzed us on how many “confessions” (religious sects) exist in Lebanon. The answer is 18, including Jews, though here are fewer than 100 Jews left in Lebanon today. Our guide explained that the French attempted to introduce a 19^th during their mandate called “secular” (read unaffiliated), but it failed as an untenable notion here in Lebanon. At dinner tonight, Sasha posed an alternative theory: religion as political affiliation, sort of 18^th century European idea that one’s political loyalty is governed by with whom you keep company, and here it is your co-religious brethren. Another topic for research.

Near the end of yesterday’s walking tour, I chatted one on one with our guide. He explained that there is power for 21 hours per day because the electric generating facilities destroyed by Israel in 2006 have not been re-built. Why re-build when war and conflict will erupt again? We talked about this strange environment where people feel like they live on borrowed time, waiting for the next outburst of violence. How can the future be envisioned when it is unpredictable and one’s existence seems at risk? Hence the large Lebanese diapora. Today’s driver claimed that there are 3.5 million Lebanese living here in Lebanon, and more than 7 million live around the world. It would be worth checking those statistics. A good chunk of the young people on our walking tour yesterday were Lebanese kids in their 20s, working here in Beirut, having returned from someplace overseas where their families had settled years ago. Sounds familiar? Similar to our neighbors down south….