I think its too long can anyone help me make it shorter?
As I was sitting on the balcony of my grandparent's home overlooking the serene Mediterranean Sea, hearing the jubilant hustle and bustle of people and cars, smelling the fresh crisp air, and feeling the humidity turn my skin into a scorching pan- I let out a sigh of relief. It was a sign that something felt right; I was in the right place. This country so happens to be my homeland. It is the place that changed my life. It is Lebanon.
This is the place where I can always come and be among people like me. This is something that I could never relate to while growing up. I was always the odd kid out. I would always see many kids grouped together by ethnicity, and they would have a lot in common. I never found anyone who was Arab or Lebanese at neither of my schools. It had to adjust and try to blend with others, so I could fit in. As I grew older, I felt lost. The trip I took four years ago made me put things into perspective.
One day, in the busy streets of Beirut, I noticed that the streets were so narrow that barely one car could fit. Then there were so many people on the sidewalks, not to mention the cars that were parked on not beside the sidewalks, which people had to walk in the streets. Everything in this city of four million people is built up to the sky, so seeing the sun is impossible. This made visibility quite difficult. Beirut drivers use their horns like we use turn signals. It's a special form of communication. Of course when you're driving down incredibly narrow streets with hairpin turns, no traffic lights, and few stop signs and pedestrians walking in the street, I guess your horn is a form of self- and other-preservation. It certainly was quite an adventure. An adventure I not only took in stride, but I seemed to relish.
Churches and mosques were everywhere, evidence of Lebanon's long history of religious tolerance and diversity. Soon we were in the true "high rent" district of Beirut. There were elegant apartments and fancy hotels. There I could see American tourists standing outside. There are restaurants, shops, and all the things wealthy people seem to favor. This was when I felt so deeply grateful that I wasn't a tourist in Beirut. If this was all I saw of the city, I would have no idea who really lived here and what their lives were like. This was the first time that I really did feel that I was living my life as a true Lebanese. I was not an outsider. I just knew that I fit in with the people who surrounded me.
I rarely go to visit Lebanon, having only been there twice in my lifetime. My trip four years ago made me realize to embrace who I am, and not to hide in the background. Subsequently, my trip has made me eager to take what I have become and transform people's minds to instill a positive perception of Arabs and Muslims throughout our world. The catalyst that caused me to be on a mission were the things I heard over the years: "Isn't Lebanon where terrorists live? Doesn't everyone where headscarves? Does everyone ride camels because it's in the desert?" First, Lebanon is not a hiding place for terrorists. Second, Lebanon is one of the most secular countries in the Middle East where both Muslims and Christians live together. Third, Lebanon is the only country in the Middle East that has no desert; therefore, there aren't any camels. It tears me up inside to have to defend my country and ethnicity to people who feel that the propaganda they hear is true. Ever since my trip, I always tell everyone all the facts before they even say a word. I feel it saves them the trouble to embarrass themselves, and it makes me feel better to know that I taught someone something new.
Tolerance is something lacking in people these days, but there is still hope. I can contribute to that hope because I find it crucial in our time period to open people's eyes to how we are all alike. I want to make a difference during my college education. I am looking forward to entering college in order to get involved with changing how people view the Arab race. It's the best setting for me where I can reach people from all walks of life, and they will leave with knowing what I have taught them. Reaching out to my culture is done from my heart and it will always be a struggle to educate those who are ignorant. Nonetheless, I will strive to achieve one of my lifelong goals.
Lebanon is a unique country in every aspect. Despite all the problems in my native country - I still love it. I'm not the only one. Regardless of the wars, corruption, scandalous politicians, and awkward political parties, many Lebanese, both at home and abroad, are still attached to this small piece of land. The diversity in Lebanon tops everything I love about this country. Yes, we are extremely liberal and open people. Yes, we are also extremely hospitable and educated. But most of all we have a sense of pride in whom we are, which is what I found and remember most during my trip and hope to instill in others.
As I was sitting on the balcony of my grandparent's home overlooking the serene Mediterranean Sea, hearing the jubilant hustle and bustle of people and cars, smelling the fresh crisp air, and feeling the humidity turn my skin into a scorching pan- I let out a sigh of relief. It was a sign that something felt right; I was in the right place. This country so happens to be my homeland. It is the place that changed my life. It is Lebanon.
This is the place where I can always come and be among people like me. This is something that I could never relate to while growing up. I was always the odd kid out. I would always see many kids grouped together by ethnicity, and they would have a lot in common. I never found anyone who was Arab or Lebanese at neither of my schools. It had to adjust and try to blend with others, so I could fit in. As I grew older, I felt lost. The trip I took four years ago made me put things into perspective.
One day, in the busy streets of Beirut, I noticed that the streets were so narrow that barely one car could fit. Then there were so many people on the sidewalks, not to mention the cars that were parked on not beside the sidewalks, which people had to walk in the streets. Everything in this city of four million people is built up to the sky, so seeing the sun is impossible. This made visibility quite difficult. Beirut drivers use their horns like we use turn signals. It's a special form of communication. Of course when you're driving down incredibly narrow streets with hairpin turns, no traffic lights, and few stop signs and pedestrians walking in the street, I guess your horn is a form of self- and other-preservation. It certainly was quite an adventure. An adventure I not only took in stride, but I seemed to relish.
Churches and mosques were everywhere, evidence of Lebanon's long history of religious tolerance and diversity. Soon we were in the true "high rent" district of Beirut. There were elegant apartments and fancy hotels. There I could see American tourists standing outside. There are restaurants, shops, and all the things wealthy people seem to favor. This was when I felt so deeply grateful that I wasn't a tourist in Beirut. If this was all I saw of the city, I would have no idea who really lived here and what their lives were like. This was the first time that I really did feel that I was living my life as a true Lebanese. I was not an outsider. I just knew that I fit in with the people who surrounded me.
I rarely go to visit Lebanon, having only been there twice in my lifetime. My trip four years ago made me realize to embrace who I am, and not to hide in the background. Subsequently, my trip has made me eager to take what I have become and transform people's minds to instill a positive perception of Arabs and Muslims throughout our world. The catalyst that caused me to be on a mission were the things I heard over the years: "Isn't Lebanon where terrorists live? Doesn't everyone where headscarves? Does everyone ride camels because it's in the desert?" First, Lebanon is not a hiding place for terrorists. Second, Lebanon is one of the most secular countries in the Middle East where both Muslims and Christians live together. Third, Lebanon is the only country in the Middle East that has no desert; therefore, there aren't any camels. It tears me up inside to have to defend my country and ethnicity to people who feel that the propaganda they hear is true. Ever since my trip, I always tell everyone all the facts before they even say a word. I feel it saves them the trouble to embarrass themselves, and it makes me feel better to know that I taught someone something new.
Tolerance is something lacking in people these days, but there is still hope. I can contribute to that hope because I find it crucial in our time period to open people's eyes to how we are all alike. I want to make a difference during my college education. I am looking forward to entering college in order to get involved with changing how people view the Arab race. It's the best setting for me where I can reach people from all walks of life, and they will leave with knowing what I have taught them. Reaching out to my culture is done from my heart and it will always be a struggle to educate those who are ignorant. Nonetheless, I will strive to achieve one of my lifelong goals.
Lebanon is a unique country in every aspect. Despite all the problems in my native country - I still love it. I'm not the only one. Regardless of the wars, corruption, scandalous politicians, and awkward political parties, many Lebanese, both at home and abroad, are still attached to this small piece of land. The diversity in Lebanon tops everything I love about this country. Yes, we are extremely liberal and open people. Yes, we are also extremely hospitable and educated. But most of all we have a sense of pride in whom we are, which is what I found and remember most during my trip and hope to instill in others.