Sam: Bonjour and welcome to French en route! My name’s Sam and I’m a huge fan of all things French. In this podcast, we’ll take a virtual tour of different parts of the French-speaking universe and discover real-life stories — in French, of course! I'll be here to guide you along the way, explain unusual vocabulary, and give you some context and background to the stories. And by the way — this isn’t only a language learning podcast, it’s also a fun way to become familiar with the French language and culture, no traveling required!

To make things easier, we’ve put together a synchronized transcript that you can read whilst listening. You can find this, alongside images and videos related to each episode, at babbel.com/podcasts or follow the link in the episode description.

Today we’re going to Lebanon in the Middle East, where Arabic is the official language. Almost 40% of Lebanese people are also francophone, however, which means that they switch between French and Arabic all the time! But why do the Lebanese also speak French? Well, after the First World War, France and Britain made a secret treaty called the Sykes-Picot Agreement, in which they divided the former Ottoman Empire between them. The French took the territory that is now Lebanon and Syria. Under the occupation, both French and Arabic were official languages in this region until 1943, when the French mandate ended and Syria and Lebanon emerged as independent countries.

Our storyteller today is Lina. Lina is Lebanese but she’s now lived in Berlin for ten years and she’s going to tell us about one year when she went home for Christmas. Feeling festive? I hope so! Then let’s begin…

Lina: Je m'appelle Lina, je suis libanaise et j’habite à Berlin depuis plus de 10 ans. Je viens d'une grande famille arabe de quatre enfants.

Aujourd’hui, bien sûr, la famille est plus grande : j’ai plein de neveux et de nièces, des beaux-frères et des belles-sœurs.

Mon histoire se passe en décembre 2019, avant la pandémie, quand on avait encore des trucs intéressants à vivre.

Je suis retournée à Beyrouth pour rendre visite à ma famille pour Noël.

Sam: Lina says she comes from a large Arabic family of four siblings and today the family is even bigger: she has lots of nephews and nieces, brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law — des beaux-frères et des belles-sœurs.

Her story takes place in December 2019, before the pandemic, quand on avait encore des trucs intéressants à vivre — “when we still had interesting things to do”. Des trucs is a casual word for ‘things’ or ‘stuff’. 
In fact that year she returned to Beirut to visit her family for Christmas!

Lina: Aller à Beyrouth pour Noël, c’est pas du tout des vacances ! C’est même plus stressant que ma vie à Berlin.

Tous les jours, mes neveux me réveillent à 7 heures, ma mère tue un poulet pour le petit-déjeuner, une vache pour le déjeuner et deux moutons pour le dîner.

Moi, je ne veux pas manger de viande. Mais ma mère ne comprend pas.

Pendant le dîner, tout le monde boit du vin et du whisky. On parle beaucoup, on débat.

J’explique à ma mère que je ne mange pas que du tofu. Mais elle ne comprend pas ça non plus.

Sam: Lina states that going to Beirut for Christmas isn’t a vacation at all. It’s even more stressful than her life in Berlin! Every day, her nephews wake her up at 7, her mum kills a chicken for breakfast, a cow for lunch, and two sheep for dinner. Lina doesn’t want to eat meat but her mum doesn’t get it. During dinner, everyone drinks wine and whiskey. They talk a lot, they debate stuff. Lina explains to her mum: je ne mange pas que du tofu — “I don’t just eat tofu” but she doesn’t get that either — elle ne comprend pas ça non plus. 
Sounds just like my family…

Lina: Cette année-là, deux amis français viennent me rendre visite au Liban. Les trois premiers jours de leur visite se passent comme prévus : ils font une overdose de houmous et ils sont surpris parce qu’il pleut tout le temps.

Bien sûr, ils sont français alors ils critiquent beaucoup : il y a trop de circulation sur la route, les Libanais ne respectent pas l’environnement et cetera …

Mais ils oublient que le Liban est un pays qui a connu beaucoup de guerres. Pour un Libanais, séparer le papier et le plastique, c’est bien mais avoir un toit c’est plus important !

Sam: That year, two French friends come to visit her in Lebanon. The first three days go as expected — se passent comme prévus: they overdose on hummus and are surprised because it rains all the time. Bien sûr — ‘of course’, they’re French and complain a lot: there’s too much traffic, the Lebanese don’t respect the environment, etc… But they forget that it’s known a lot of warfare. For a Lebanese person, separating paper and plastic is good but it’s more important to have a roof — un toit — over your head.

Having lived in Lebanon, I can confirm this picture. It is chaotic but anyone who was alive in the nineteen-eighties will know that Lebanon has been beset by conflict for decades. And yet at the same time it’s a culturally rich country of outstanding natural beauty whose people I found to be welcoming and generous…

Lina: Un jour, nous décidons d'aller à Sour, une ville au sud du Liban. Sour est une ville magnifique, très ancienne. Mais il y a le Hezbollah.

Le Hezbollah, c’est le parti musulman chiite. Et il utilise cette ville comme base pour protéger la frontière avec Israël. Il faut donc faire attention : on ne peut pas dire n’importe quoi ou aller n’importe où.

Nous partons en voiture. Mes amis sont très heureux de visiter le Liban, il fait beau, tout va bien. Nous arrivons à Sour.

Mais soudain, il y a un poste de contrôle du Hezbollah. Et mon ami français qui conduit la voiture ne s’arrête pas !

Sam: One day they decide to go to Sour, which in English is known as Tyre — a city in the very south of Lebanon (and which, since it’s packed with archaeology, also happens to be a UNESCO world heritage site). Sour is a magnificent city and very old, Lina tells us. But there’s also Hezbollah, which is the party of the Shiite Muslims, who use this city as a base for organizing their actions against Israel. You have to be careful, she says: on ne peut pas dire n’importe quoi ou aller n’importe où — “you can’t say whatever you want and go wherever you want”.
They leave by car, and all is going fine until they arrive in Sour and suddenly there’s a Hezbollah checkpoint. And Lina’s French friend who’s driving doesn’t stop!

Lina: Un homme armé hurle et court vers nous avec son arme, mon ami arrête la voiture. On a super peur.

Je m’excuse et j’explique en arabe : « il est français et il ne connaît pas les règles au Liban ». Le soldat comprend, il rit, je ris, mes amis français rient aussi mais sans comprendre pourquoi.

Finalement, nous visitons Sour : les plages, la ville antique, le port, le marché, tous les quartiers touristiques. C’est très beau !

À la fin de la journée, mes amis insistent pour se promener dans un quartier moins touristique, au hasard. Il fait noir, j’ai un peu peur mais j’accepte.

Sam: An armed man shouts and runs towards them with his weapon, Lina’s friend stops the car. They’re super scared. She apologizes and explains in Arabic that her friend is French and doesn’t know the rules in Lebanon. The soldier understands, thankfully. He laughs, Lina laughs, her French friends also laugh… without understanding why.
Finally they visit Sour: the beaches, the old town, the port, the market, all of the tourist areas. Lina says it’s very beautiful, which is true. At the end of the trip, her friends insist on wandering around a less touristy area, au hasard — at random. It’s getting dark, Lina’s a bit scared but agrees.

Lina: On marche une heure et on arrive devant un quartier contrôlé par le Hezbollah. Il n’y a personne dans la rue.

L’entrée est bloquée par des barrières métalliques. Comme dans un film de zombie. Bref, n’importe qui voudrait partir.

Mais pas mes deux amis français. Non, eux, ils sont intrigués, bien sûr ! « Est-ce qu’on peut entrer, tu crois, Lina ? » me demande mon amie. Entrer ?

Mais, n’importe quoi ! Ils sont fous ! On va être arrêtés et interrogés comme des espions ! À ce moment-là, je pète les plombs. Je crie : soit on rentre à Beyrouth maintenant, soit je vous laisse ici !

Sam: They walk for an hour and arrive at a Hezbollah-controlled area. There’s no one on the street. The entrance is blocked by metal barriers, like in a zombie movie. In short, anyone would want to get out of there — n’importe qui voudrait partir. But not Lina’s two French friends. Nope, they’re intrigued, of course! “Do you think we can enter, Lina?” asks her friend. “Enter?” She replies, n’importe quoi! “Nonsense!” They’re mad! They’ll be stopped and interrogated as spies! At this moment, she says, je pète les plombs — “I blow a fuse”. She tells them that either they leave for Beirut right then or she’ll leave them there.  Well I know what I’d do…

Lina: Finalement, on retourne à la voiture. Sur la route, je ne veux plus un mot en français. Nous arrivons à la maison après le dîner.

Mes amis racontent notre histoire. Ma mère est triste, elle me dit : mais pourquoi tu n’as pas laissé tes amis à Sour ? J’avais préparé un riz au poulet, du fattouche et du tabbouleh !

Sam: Finally they get back to the car. On the way home, Lina doesn’t want to hear another word of French. They arrive home after dinner and her friends tell their story.

Lina’s mother, curiously enough, is sad. She says to Lina: “But why didn’t you leave your friends in Sour?” Why on Earth would she ask that?! Because Lina missed the special dinner that her mother had prepared: Rice with chicken, fattouche, which is a chopped salad with tomatoes, radishes, and other vegetables combined with toasted flatbread, and tabbouleh, which is made of chopped parsley, mint, onion, soaked bulgur wheat, pomegranate seeds, olive oil, and lemon juice. Sounds like a menu not to be missed! In fact Lebanese food is the best thing going, in my opinion.

So, there we have it — an unconventional Christmas tale from the Middle East. So if you’re up for a challenge, you can listen to the French-only version of this episode without my commentary. You can of course replay each episode as many times as you like.

We’d love to hear your feedback, which you can send us via email at podcasting@babbel.com or directly through your preferred podcast app. And if you feel like it, you could also fill in the survey that you’ll find in the episode description.

Thanks for listening and see you for the next episode of French en route …
Au revoir !