Dinner with Ali

Last week I was in Paris.
I love the month of tishrei in Paris.
I came back on Sunday night, after missing my flight and having a hard time getting finally on a plane to come back home on time for work on Monday…
Monday, I was just off work, at 8 pm, when a friend called.
I was feeling like a zombie and I was dreaming of sleeping.
But what this friend proposed was tempting:
Having dinner (sushi, mmmm) with him and a friend of his, in visit to Lebanon.
The friend is Iranian. Ali.
I liked the combination. Why not: A Lebanese Jew and an Iranian Muslim at a Japanese dinner.

The guy turned out to be the grand son of someone very important who was very close to the shah of Iran. His family has been in exile since he was 3 years.
We talked about exile and about feeling “rootless”.
We had a lot in common: The frustration, the injustice, the feeling of wanting to do something and to feel hopeless and useless.
He despises the extremist regime in Iran, Hezbollah and all that happened to his country, a country he has never been to, a country that they stole from him, a country that he doesn’t even bear the passport, despite being the descent of one of the most know family there (there are mountains there called after them…)
The guy is educated, very charismatic, speaks fluently many languages and is very open minded.
With people like that, I thought, (just a thought that vanished just as the person faded out of sight) that there might, there could be a glimpse of hope. Hope of peace.
Ok, time to wake up.
Anyway, I always appreciate meeting interesting people like that.
Ali looked human.
Before separating, we hugged like long time friends.
The next day he went back to his exile in Europe.