Hey, this isn't like Lonely Blanet.

Today I became an official Beirut girl. I was honked at by taxis, cursed at by angry drivers, and my wallet is now empty. But I'm very proud of myself because I explored a huge part of Beirut alone and without any help. I had a map and my Lonely Planet guide, so I knew where I wanted to go. But a map doesn't really help you when there aren't any street names or signs posted anywhere. And as far as senses go, direction isn't exactly my best.

Listen, guys, I'm not going to lie to you. This blog is an open area, a thick line of communication based on complete honesty. Well, I may lie to make myself look better. But in this case I'm not going to lie, I was nervous this morning when my cousin dropped me off in front of her college and said, “You'll know you're at Rue Hamra when you see stones.”

What? What stones? Where? Are the buildings made out of stone? Are the streets—where are you going?? Wait! Help me!

But then I thought to myself, “Nasrin, you're smart. You're educated. You're an adult. You must depend on yourself and believe you can do this.” I must not have looked so convincing, because that's when an older gentleman asked if I was lost and I nearly cried, “YES! Can you please point me in the direction of Rue Hamra?”

He literally said, “Blah blah blah blah right. Blah blah blah blah left.” I swear he wasn't speaking Arabic. So I smiled, said, “Shukran”, and walked in one of the directions he mentioned, all the while freaking out more and more. I wasn't sure of where I was going. Not at all. But I wasn't going to call anyone, I needed to learn for myself. I kept checking Lonely Planet, which was so structured and organized, it didn't match Beirut at all. A lonely planet it truly was.

Finally I decided I needed to figure out what street I was on so that I could get to Rue Hamra, and from there my map could help me. I walked into a dress store and up to the nice-looking owner. I said in the best Arabic I could muster, “Excuse me, do you mind telling me what street we're on?” Then she said, in the rudest Arabic she thought I could handle, “How am I supposed to know what street we're on?”

…wow, someone didn't drink their mete this morning. You don't know the address of your own store? Where the hell am I? But I bit my tongue, which I've quickly learned to do, said “Shukran”, and left.

I walked out of the store, and that's when it started to rain. Literally. Oh great, thanks God, thanks. That's exactly what I need. Needless to say, I was down in the dumps. At least I would have been if I could find them.

I started to question all of my choices. Why had I come here? Not just to Beirut, but to Lebanon? I wasn't even capable of shopping? How was I going to survive in a country that was supposed to be familiar but with every step was becoming more and more foreign?

I looked up, wiping away a tear. Or a raindrop, whatever. That's when I saw them. Stones! The street was paved with stones! The most beautiful stones. I had found Rue Hamra. All by myself.

With this renewed confidence I found the places Lonely Planet recommended. Through these points of reference I stopped by shops, book stores, the American University of Beirut. I sat in a cafe and read the newspaper. I even went to a museum. (Nerd alert: I bought Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in Arabic! But because the letter "p" doesn't technically exist in Arabic and is replaced by the letter "b", I actually bought Harry Botter and the Philosopher's Stone.)

I ended my day in Akil, an apparel store in the style of Ross. The only reason it's worth mentioning is because the music was so strange, I pretended to be browsing Abercrombie knockoffs when I really was just listening in shock. First there was an Elvis-style cover of Hot and Cold by Katy Pary, which was so weird. And by weird I mean amazing. Then there was Material Girl done in folk. I kept looking around to see if anybody else was reacting, but the only people in the store were middle-aged silicone ladies looking for trendy clothes. And when I say trendy I mean flashy, flashy, flashy. Makeup and flash, that's how to be stylish here. Which is why I came into the store in the first place. But I left as soon as a lounge version of Hey There Delilah began. Too flashy for me.

Overall, it was a wonderful day. Hamra, which was the area I was exploring, is a fun area where artists, hipsters, and students all hang out. I was able to see everything I wanted to see and best of all I did it all by myself.

I didn't make a mistake coming here! I'll be okay!

I hurried to my aunt's house excited to share the news of my accomplishment. But when I got there grandma told me there's a rumor that my parents sent me here because they were afraid I was dating an American guy and they didn't want me to marry him.

...I didn't make a mistake coming here, I didn't make a mistake coming here, I didn't make a mistake coming here, I didn't make a mistake coming here...

Anyway, pictures are coming as soon as I have a steady source of internet. Not having the internet is interesting. And by interesting I mean boring. Although, do you know how to play Spider Solitaire? I do. It's interesting. And by interesting I mean boring.

Your comments make me happy, thank you for your support! The Blanet doesn't feel so Lonely when I remember you're all on it, too! Hope you're all enjoying your holiday season!