Ignition

This seems like a good omen; I found this ancient piece of pottery in an antique store. Apparently it came from the Phoenician city of Jbeil (which may be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world). Yes, it's a pigeon.

It's hard to believe I'm finally back in Lebanon with enough funding to shoot a project I've been dreaming about for over two years. Props to Loaded Pictures for helping to make it all happen.

I've had a busy time here in Beirut so far. After a run-around day applying for the necessary permissions from the police and military, I went out for a few beers with Mitch, a terrific writer/photographer I met here in 2006, and Johan, who was passing through after 8 weeks in Iraq with the NY Times. I got the lowdown on sketchy security contractors, hashish runners and the Sunni-Alawite clashes in Tripoli. Earlier in the evening, a grenade attack on a cafe left 8 people wounded in Jabal Mohsen, an Alawite neighborhood. This was followed by a retaliatory attack in the nearby Sunni neighbourhood of Tabbaneh. Sectarian clashes in the area are a growing concern, especially since they seem to mirror incidents that sparked the civil war in 1975.

But that's not why I'm here. I'm looking for pigeons, and pigeon handlers, and specifically people who do this in the 12 official Palestinian camps that are scattered across the country. And while I'm assured that this phenomenon is very much alive and well, it seems more difficult than I thought to track these people down. This is exacerbated by the fact that my fixer was in a serious motorcycle accident last week. I spoke to him on the phone the other day and he sounded about as good as anyone can sound with a shattered arm - which means I need to opt for Plan B.

Forunately, in Lebanon there are only about 2 degrees of separation between people. On Thursday, I met with an awesome production coordinator here named Rana who passed on the name of a Palestinian cameraman who might be able to help, and a guy I worked with in 2007 thinks he can help me on Monday. Later that night I went to see Montreal's ECP DJ at Zico House on Spears street (thanks for the tip Patricia B.!), where I met a guy who runs film workshops for Palestinian kids. I left as the dance floor swelled to the beats of what could have been a Megasoid track and walked home, a lamb soujouk in hand and the promise of a busy weekend ahead.

Friday, I played the waiting game, working on leads, leaving messages and emailing key people in between snacking on some of the best hummous I've ever had, with fresh vegetables from the market. This led to a very long and very overdue jetlag nap, followed by a very short and very painful home haircut (note to self: $5 beard clippers purchased at an electronics store in Ashrafiyeh might not be the best tool). At midnight, I got antsy and went to a nearby bar run by a former photojournalist, where I met a very nice arms dealer who gave me an interesting ride back to my place, pulling high-tech weaponry out of the back seat of his convertible to show me while keeping the other hand on the wheel. I love this place.