One thing I can do without in Lebanon: The constant probing. The entitlement some people feel, to ask you some downright intrusive questions, questions that may be too personal even for US airport security, I kid you not. The problem is with the way these questions sneak up on you, when you least expect them, BOOM, they come right at you, and you stand there, feeling violated, with no choice but to answer something you just couldn’t imagine sharing with that person. One minute you’re getting your hair washed, before you know it, you’re telling the hairdresser how much you pay for rent a month and your parents don’t mind that you live alone. WTF?
Scenario One:
I am at Gloria Jeans Café in Hamra, paying for my coffee.