If the extraordinary love bombing enjoyed by Salma Hayek during her visit to Lebanon isn’t proof enough that the country’s suffering from visitor withdrawal syndrome, then I don’t know what is.
The Lebanese adore receiving travelers from abroad, and the more glamorous the in-bound destination, the more we’re known to up our game. Hosting is in our DNA and nothing gets the blood pumping faster than the opportunity to show off the best of the country to any visitor, let alone a Hollywood celebrity. Sadly we’ve suffered a dearth of such visitors recently, hence the collective fawning frenzy over Hayek by our countrymen whipped up by the media.
The red carpet was rolled out for the movie star, whose goody bag included a cedar tree and a nationality. Given half the chance people would have gladly offered her a shoulder ride all the way back to Los Angeles but instead we settled for a pope-worthy send off. During ‘that’ week, securing a selfie with Hayek was tantamount to being awarded a Nobel peace prize – with Salma around, many Lebanese felt they could achieve anything.
In response, the Hollywood actress basked graciously in all the worship and proudly reclaimed her ancestry, but then what visitor can resist the Lebanese host charm offensive? This is after all the land where all tourists and foreign celebrities, especially those who may be feeling a little neglected in their home countries, get to experience a wining, dining and royal spotlight resurgence. The Lebanese are so hell-bent on delivering superstar treatment to their overseas visitors, they’ll commonly spare no effort or expense, even at the cost of over-extending themselves physically and financially.
So what motivates the Lebanese to go to such lengths in delighting their guests? Is it the fact that visitors might offer us the opportunity to peel away the lie of everyday life by re-focusing on the country’s sightseeing bright spots? Are such efforts a subconscious attempt to address Beirut’s ‘hot-zone’ (mis)perception by restoring its pre-Civil War image in the eyes of foreigners? Or am I over-thinking this whole thing and the simple truth of the matter is that we just love compliments?
I mean, frankly speaking, who isn’t partial to a little validation? It’s just that, in our case. Our desire for positive feedback is not driven by any need to address (God forbid) insecurities, but rather to confirm what the Lebanese have believed all along: that we’re fabulous and awesome. In fact the more I try to decrypt the secret to Lebanese happiness, the more I’m convinced that our happiness is driven by what people say about us when we leave the room. Except that we can’t wait to actually leave the room and would much rather stick around to find out, then and there, the answer to the million dollar question: “Isn’t my country beautiful?”
I don’t know of any other natives who ask this question as frequently and confidently as we do, to visitors, even those who have just flown in from breathtakingly beautiful places like the South of France or Lake Como. It’s not as if the Lebanese are ever asked whether we approve of other people’s countries as we undergo cavity searches and hostile questioning when traveling abroad. But I digress, the point is that what we’re really interested in receiving is validation from outsiders to back the validation we give ourselves; our pride in country and self is only equaled by the love we feel for compliments about them both.
If you live abroad and are reading this, you’re probably getting the impression that the Lebanese are wonderful hosts, albeit a little delusional. As a local now, I’m not the best person to ask, but perhaps you should come visit and find out for yourself.
By Tanya Dernaika, a communications expert, blogger, wife and mother recently repatriated and enjoying the roller coaster that is life in Beirut.
