Thanksgiving Reflections: What It’s Like Being an American Expat in Lebanon

I moved to Lebanon in early 2011, which means I’ve lived in the Land of the Cedars for well over a decade now. Before settling here, I’d always wondered how I’d fit in with the broader Lebanese public in day-to-day activities. Sure, I’d spent countless summers in our second home, perched in the eastern suburbs just outside of Beirut. But everyone knows that vacationing as an expat is closely akin to being a tourist in the motherland. It’s hardly a taste of “real life.”

So, what are the highlights of transitioning from diaspora to local? Can locals easily weed you out, even if you’re fluent in conversational Arabic? Is there any advantage to being an expat around these parts? Let’s tackle these questions together.

Beirut Waterfront

I grew up in southern California speaking the Lebanese dialect at home. My mother mandated it, much to our chagrin at the time. She even taught us to read and write modern standard Arabic, so you could categorize me to some extent as a native speaker. However, let me confess that my cover has often been blown. I’m not exactly sure what it is: perhaps it’s the handful of outdated words I used to use when I first moved here (but have since swiftly chucked!). Perhaps it's the slightly higher dose of English words I incorporate in my Arabic sentences (because frankly everyone in Lebanon blends English, French and Arabic into one, and they do it remarkably coherently!). Or perhaps it’s my scrupulous transparency in communicating, a surefire echo from my upbringing in the grand US of A, where schools teach and preach that “honesty is the best policy.”

Back when I worked at a Lebanese bank’s head office, my colleagues occasionally poked fun at my choice of words. They quickly versed me in the ways of slang. And I helped them massage their emails to reflect a sound grasp of English. From this mutualistic symbiotic relationship, I helped narrow the gap between expat and local.

But I still revert to English when I must, and frankly, most everyone seems to understand. It certainly wasn’t that way two or three decades ago, when French dominated Lebanon as the second most-spoken language. Now it seems cooler to roll with anglais (sorry to the diehard Francophonie around these parts!).

Is there an advantage to being an expat? I have noticed that I command more respect when I speak in smooth, articulate American English. People stop to listen intently. The other week, I was attending a forum at my children's school, and parents were gathered in the auditorium. I raised my hand and asked a question aloud relating to the new diagnostic exams being administered to our students. Later outside, I noticed an unusual number of smiling faces looking in my direction – not something I’m used to in Lebanon. One Armenian-Lebanese mother even came up to ask me where I’d been taught English. I beamed with pride at her compliment.

Where else do we shine? I’d say American expats here really enjoy driving. Now I know that might sound bizarre and baffling, especially since chaos rules our roads. But I can’t begin to tell you how enormously at ease I am knowing I most likely won’t be pulled over for not stopping three seconds at a stop sign (yes, they do exist here!), or changing lanes without signaling, or passing a driver who’s traveling at sloth speeds. It’s evocative of a “we’re all in this together” spirit, and drivers unite in the shared challenge of piloting these winding, pothole-ridden streets. It takes the stress out of driving, something I used to feel as soon as I’d pull out of my parent’s driveway in California suburbia. In fact, this past summer abroad, I witnessed first-hand cops on their motorbikes hiding behind bushes to catch unsuspecting drivers sailing through stop signs at residential intersections. It was heinous!

Any beef with local customs? As an American expat in Lebanon, I despise that major supermarkets don’t open before 8 AM (c’mon people, early morning grocery runs are critical!). I also despise that most governmental offices and banks shutter by 1 or 2 PM; that schools break for an excess number of holidays and even for inclement weather; and that valet parking continues to dominate every stretch of curb or facade. Why should I pay to park if I’m gracing you with my business? It befuddles me to no end.

But by the same token, I appreciate being served at the pump by a gas station attendant. I appreciate that I’m not being charged a dime at the grocery store for every plastic bag I need to carry my purchases. I appreciate friendly neighbors and a population teeming with good Samaritans who comprehend the worth of humanity and hospitality.

As an American expat in Lebanon, I can effortlessly distinguish between the two cultures that weave into my social fabric. And I am endlessly grateful for that deeply textured, multifaceted, and experience-rich lifestyle I’ve been afforded in the land of my ancestors.

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