Adventures Around the World

What Time is it in Your Office?

2012-02-02T04:41:00.000-08:00

You're planning a major event. With two weeks to go until the big day, you meet with the local nationals who are helping organize the event to discuss a few critical details that need to be worked out. You walk away from the meeting with an understanding of what needs to be accomplished.

What you're thinking: We need to get moving on this, there are only 2 weeks left!

What they're thinking: We're in good shape, we still have 2 weeks left.

Americans seem to have a different perception of time than the rest of the world. I have an app on my iPad that shows me what time it is in six different locations. What I need is an app that converts American time perceptions into Nepali time perceptions and vice versa. I'd pay good money for that.

Child-proofed for Your Safety

2012-01-19T17:13:00.000-08:00

Our embassy provides each employee's residence with a large tin box filled with emergency supplies. It's usually stored in a shed, outside of the residence itself. Nepal is regarded as a high-risk country for earthquakes - a land-locked Haiti with only one airport capable of accommodating large military airplanes (by the way, a recent study showed that the runways at that airport would probably crack and be rendered useless in the event of a major earthquake).

So if a major disaster strikes Nepal, it's likely that we will need to access our emergency supplies. Some time ago I tried to open my emergency kit to check that I have everything I'm supposed to have and nothing is expired. But it had been secured with a plastic tie so I went back into the house to find a sharp cutting implement to cut the plastic tie. Recently I discovered that a new plastic tie had been put on.

I pointed this out to the officer in charge of the emergency kits and suggested that it might make sense to allow easy access to the emergency kit so that if an earthquake hits, I don't have to go into my house, which might not be stable, and find a pair of scissors to cut off the plastic tie. In response, I was told that the emergency kit is secured with a plastic tie because some employees might be tempted to take something from the kit (i.e. toilet paper) and not replace it.

What the what?

This is the same rationale that forces me to locate and use manicure scissors whenever I need to open a new bottle of Excedrin. Normally that's not a big hassle. Except when I wake up at 3:00 in the morning with a raging migraine. All because 30 years ago somebody's toddler ate a bunch of pain pills thinking they were candy.

Using my diplomatic skills to cover up my snarky inclinations, I observed that the point of the emergency kit is to provide necessary supplies to the employee in the event of a disaster, and by hindering access to the kit, we are negating the point of having it. He suggested that I buy a sharp cutting implement and keep it nearby the emergency kit, but keep it hidden so that I wouldn't be tempted to "steal" the toilet paper.

At this point I lost the strength to continue along this line of reasoning.

I would like to be treated as a responsible adult, not a pill-popping toddler.

Open Letter to the Secretary

2011-12-22T15:30:00.001-08:00

Dear Secretary Clinton,

I have a suggestion that would instantly boost the morale of every single Foreign Service Officer. Get rid of the Fly America requirement for official travel. It's stupid and more often than not it costs the traveller more time and the Department more money. A more efficient way to handle official travel is to determine a maximum cost for a route, let the officer arrange his/her own flight, and reimburse the officer up to the max amount. Just like we do for hotel costs. This change may require an act of congress, which I realize makes the chances of this actually happening close to zero. But if you could pull this off, you would be immortalized in bronze right next to Ben Franklin at FSI.

Sincerely,
A travel-weary Foreign Service Officer

Balancing Solo

2011-12-16T17:59:00.000-08:00

Occasionally I hear the catch phrase "work-life balance." It's often used in the same sentence as "family." My colleagues with families have great built-in excuses for maintaining a healthy work-life balance - "my kid's birthday is this weekend" or "tonight is my anniversary." My work-life balance activities, on the other hand, don't sound quite so noble - "I have a tennis lesson this weekend" or "I have a Pilates class tonight."

This is not a slam against my married-with-children colleagues. I know plenty of FSOs with families who work late when necessary. But for single FSOs, it's too easy to ditch our non-work activities for something that may seem urgent (but is it really?). I think it's even more important for single FSOs to make a concerted effort to maintain a non-work life. We don't have kids in play groups or spouses in book clubs to help us meet non-work friends. CLOs seldom recognize the unique needs of single FSOs. So in most cases we're on our own to develop a non-work life. That can be difficult.

The last few months have been insanely busy. I've missed a lot of Pilates classes and can't remember the last time I played tennis. Maybe my new year's resolution for 2012 should be to take better care of myself. Yeah, right.

Road Warrior

2011-12-03T04:58:00.001-08:00

I rarely drive in Kathmandu. After I rear-ended a bus that stopped in the middle of an intersection for no apparent reason, I hired a full-time driver. But he has Saturdays off so that's the day I drive myself to the American Club. The normal road hazards encountered in Kathmandu include: narrow roads, potholes, piles of trash (sometimes burning), insane motorcyclists, clueless pedestrians, and sacred cows that are used to having the right of way. But today I had to battle a new hazard - hanging electrical wires. I've never had to navigate a vehicle around live electrical wires so as not to snag my side-view mirror (they didn't teach us that in Crash and Bang). I still can't believe some genius in DC decided to decrease Kathmandu's differential to 20.

Road Show 2011

2011-11-21T02:49:00.000-08:00

The Embassy's Road Show program in western Nepal may be remembered as the all-time professional highlight of my time in Nepal. We donated over 10,000 English language books and materials to schools and libraries in three towns. Over 20,000 students came to the book exhibition and several thousand participated in the various programs. During the opening ceremony, I gave a speech in Nepali (my first time). I'm sure this was extremely amusing to the local Nepalis.

We held movie and documentary screenings, gave presentations on Volunteerism in America, and offered advising sessions on studying in the USA. My favorite program was an American culture contest; students who correctly identified pictures of American presidents, cities, landmarks, and famous personalities won English pocket dictionaries.

As much fun as the contests were, I think I most enjoyed the informal conversations I had with many of the students. I shared some music from my iPad (Zac Brown Band and Sugarland) and they shared some Nepali music on their cell phones. A couple teenagers brought me some Nepali snacks that I had never tried.

It really was a public diplomacy grand slam. I had a lot of fun interacting with the students and I think that came across to them. Once word got out about the Road Show, teachers from schools that had not been invited showed up and asked if they could bring their students, even as hundreds of invited students were waiting in line to enter the book expo.

In America's Best Interest

2011-11-13T04:37:00.000-08:00

I haven't had a chance to respond to Mr. Perry's attack on diplomats until now; I've been a little busy traveling around western Nepal advancing the embassy's goals and promoting American values. I also haven't had a hot shower or a good night's sleep in a week. In whose interest am I doing all this, I wonder?

Logic is Futile

2011-11-02T17:48:00.000-07:00

I was Skyping my parents and talking about going home for the holidays. As always, arranging a flight is a pain in the butt. If I want to get home in time for Christmas Eve dinner, I need to leave Kathmandu now because of all the layovers. My dad logically pointed out that there is a direct flight from Bangkok. But, I responded, it's not an American carrier. My dad logically pointed out that taking that direct flight would not only significantly reduce my travel time, but it would also cut the cost of the ticket in half and save the State Department $2000. My dad is a computer programmer and lives in a world where logic rules. I work for the federal government where logic is futile.

Update: Now my dad is logically suggesting that I just buy my own ticket and have the Department reimburse me. Ah, I remember the days when I was blissfully ignorant of the insane policies of our federal government.

My Self-Righteous Indignation

2011-09-25T03:58:00.000-07:00

Three months ago I accepted a handshake for a job in the Public Affairs section in Kabul next year. That was the easiest lobbying effort I will likely ever have in the Foreign Service. I contacted the PAS deputy in Kabul, we had a nice long conversation, and the first moment HR was allowed to offer handshakes for 2012 AIP positions, I received an email offering me the job. Piece of cake.

Getting an onward linked assignment has proven to be a frustrating pain in the ass. The official policy is that if an AIP bidder (currently serving in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Pakistan or who has accepted a position for 2012) can lobby for a linked assignment for 2013. The bureau must either offer the bidder the job, or provide a reasonable explanation for why they won't offer the job (i.e. not at grade, offered the position to another AIP bidder, etc).

It's been 2+ months since I officially expressed my interest in a position. The point of contact has twice promised to reach out to my references, but has not yet done so. My request for an estimated timeline for when a decision will be made has been ignored. At the time I applied, no one else had inquired about the position. And there is nothing to suggest that I am not qualified for this job.

I'm being stonewalled. Smart people whose opinion I trust agree that I should have heard something by now. So I emailed my new CDO to ask for help. Her response was basically, "I can't help you." This followed an equally worthless piece of advice from her predecessor, which was, "Be patient and don't do anything." These are not the answers I was hoping to get from my CDO. Someone explain to me what CDOs are for!

Not surprisingly, I'm a little cranky about this. I have volunteered to return for a second tour in a danger post, where the Department says it needs good diplomats. I'm not doing it for the money, nor am I doing it for other perks. I'm doing it because the job is interesting and I want to be where the action is. But I'll admit that I was hopeful that the Department would support me in getting a good onward assignment. What a let down.

Copy and paste this to your Facebook status

2011-09-16T18:32:00.000-07:00

I think I need to stop reading blogs and Facebook status updates about foreign policy and programs written by people who either don't know what they're talking about or would rather sit back and judge what other people are doing to make the world better.

iPad Diplomacy

2011-09-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

This photo got some nice reactions on my Facebook page, so I thought I'd share it here. I was in the small town of Jiri recently. I made eye contact with a little girl who smiled at me, so I pulled out my iPad and showed her the Photo Booth app. Within seconds, half a dozen kids were pressing toward me to get a look. Within minutes, I was surrounded on all sides by laughing kids. It was a lot of fun.

My Kingdom for Toilet Paper

2011-08-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

I've travelled to some very remote parts of Nepal and discovered that you can always find any kind of Whiskey. Toilet paper, however, remains elusive. I wonder if USAID can do something about this.

Road Tripping in Nepal

2011-08-16T02:38:00.000-07:00

Any good diplomat will tell you that getting out of the capital is the best way to gain a fresh perspective on the country in which you’re serving. In many ways, Nepal feels like two separate nations – Kathmandu and the rest of the country. I’ve been fortunate to have had several opportunities to travel outside of the Kathmandu Valley to meet with local journalists. Most recently, I visited three districts in the central part of Nepal.

On the road in Nepal

One of the priorities for the Public Affairs section in Kathmandu is the professional development of journalists in Nepal, especially in the remote areas where most working journalists have never received a formal education or training. My first stop was in the small town of Kusma, where 20 female journalists were participating in a week-long training program sponsored by the Embassy. I gave a presentation on the impact of new media on journalism and explained how the Embassy uses social media. The energy from these motivated young women was almost enough to run the projector when the power gave out (a common problem here).

Journalists from 3 remote districts participate in Embassy-sponsored training in Kusma

Visiting the training program was just part of the reason for the road trip. The other was to meet with local journalists to understand the press environment in the remote parts of the country. A common complaint is the threat of violence from thugs hired to intimidate and attack journalists who expose corruption or write negative stories about powerful people or businesses. It didn’t take much prodding on my part to get these journalists to share their thoughts on the impunity of criminal gangs and the failure of the local government to protect the press.

A highlight of the trip was a visit to a new radio station in Pokhara that is run by and geared toward children. I was interviewed by a veteran 16 year old girl who posed hard-hitting questions about my childhood and education in the United States. My odd situation as a never-married childless woman of a certain age was another topic of extreme interest!

On-air interview with a young reporter from Chhunumunu radio station

One thing I’ve learned from official travel is to leave enough time in the schedule for unexpected things: a dancing demon on the street outside the hotel, a walk across one of the longest pedestrian bridges in Nepal, and an unscheduled stop at an agricultural research center. While these things may not contribute to my knowledge of the status of the press in Nepal, they do help me understand the everyday life of Nepalis. These are experiences you can’t have unless you get out of the capital and get out of the car once in a while.

A colorful dancer on the street in Kusma

Hundreds of Nepalis cross this bridge every day

Taking a photo of the flowers at the Agricultural Research Station in Lumle

Founding Mother?

2011-07-31T02:32:00.001-07:00

This past week I was shepherding a media law expert from the U.S. to a series of speaking engagements around Kathmandu. I don't normally do programs, but because this was "media-related" and I was the one who had proposed the program, I slipped away from my normal press duties for a few days to accompany him to his events.

It was a very satisfying program, mostly because of how well-received it was. When I first came to Nepal and starting meeting press contacts, one thing became evident - there is a hunger for progressive laws that protect and support a free press. Nepal is (and has been for a couple of years) drafting a new constitution. It is still a new democracy (or, rather, on the path toward becoming a democracy) and just like the new United States of America 200+ years ago, the people of Nepal must decide what values they will enshrine in their new constitution.

So when the opportunity to bring over a speaker arose, I suggested we find someone who could describe how freedom of the press and speech has evolved in America and explain some of the important issues and consequences that have resulted. We scheduled presentations to the Nepal Bar Association, journalism graduate students, and working journalists. We also arranged for discussions with broadcasting executives, government officials, and journalism organizations.

Interestingly, while the vast majority of the people the speaker presented to clearly wanted press freedom and independence from the government, at every interaction there was inevitably a question about how "objectionable" or "irresponsible" content is regulated or punished. I could see that some people had a hard time wrapping their heads around the idea that free speech means that people are allowed to speak their minds, even if their minds are full of garbage. We tried to explain that for Americans, tolerating some garbage in the "marketplace of ideas" is better than some government entity deciding for us what can or cannot be expressed. And it was even more troubling for some to realize that "free speech" puts the responsibility of judging what is good information and what is bad information on the consumer of that information - the king no longer decides what is suitable for the public, YOU have to judge for yourself the validity of the information you consume.

I heard wonderful feedback after each event, especially from journalism professors and media lawyers. I would like to think this program energized the champions of a free press in Nepal and will at least spark interesting debate among those who will influence how freedom of expression is ultimately defined in the new constitution.

Trisuli Adventure

2011-07-14T03:19:00.000-07:00

Last month before I left for R&R, I went river rafting and camping on the Trisuli River. It was a great trip, pleasant weather, good rapids, and nice scenery. It's always nice to get out of the Kathmandu Valley.

What do Americans Eat?

2011-06-01T04:16:00.000-07:00

I visited a Coca Cola bottling plant today. The Embassy has ties with the company (promoting American business in Nepal is one of our goals) and I tagged along with the Pol-Econ officers to see if I could plant a seed with them about future public-private partnerships.

Naturally, we were offered Coke to drink. As we sat down at the table for a brief presentation on their operations, I noticed an interesting assortment of snacks they had laid out for us. Mini pizzas, french fries, and what looked like egg salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

It's almost as if someone was tasked with preparing food that a typical American would enjoy. I was amused at the effort. It's like if I served egg rolls and fortune cookies to Chinese guests.

Youth Diplomacy

2011-05-27T02:52:00.000-07:00

Nepal is an extremely young country. Nearly 3/4 of the population is under 35, but the youth have never raised their voices. Until now. And I'd like to think I have a little something to do with that.

Youth outreach is a hot concept at the State Department these days. Fortunately, in a country like Nepal, where the median age is 21, focusing on youth outreach makes sense (one of the rare occasions when I can use "State Department" and "sense" in connecting sentences). Last weekend the embassy launched the Ambassador's Youth Advisory Council. We gathered together nearly 50 Nepalis between the ages of 18-32 from all regions of Nepal, from different socio-economic backgrounds and professions, and from diverse castes, social groups and religions for a 2-day conference in Kathmandu. I've been working on this project for months.

After years of violent conflict and more years of political incompetence, it's no wonder that young Nepalis are frustrated and cynical about the state of their country and their own future prospects. But the youth we gathered were bright, enthusiastic, and eager to change Nepal by starting with themselves and their communities. It was a very successful event. Taxpayers will be interested to know that this event, and the planned follow-up activities, cost relatively little money. I stuck with the premise of "Keep it simple, stupid!"

Coincidentally we're starting to see young Nepalis rise up in society. A new Facebook group, Nepal Unites, has successfully organized peaceful rallies to call on the government to get its act together. I had lunch with one of the founders of Nepal Unites this week and was encouraged by his optimism, but also his realism. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

I'm glad we're able to support the youth of Nepal in our own way. I think the Youth Advisory Council is a nice example of the kind of work we do overseas that really makes a difference.

How to Earn Hardship Pay

2011-05-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

It's not the kind of thing I normally discuss in detail with friends and family, but it's a common conversation in undeveloped countries. It's inevitable, no matter how careful you are. To put it politely - food poisoning, South Asian style. A colleague recently experienced her first bout and we compared notes. Warning: the following is kinda gross.

I've had it twice in my first 6 months in Nepal. I've never been so sick in my life. A few things that make the South Asian version so special:

It's violent. Honestly, I expected to see my stomach fly out of my mouth.

Unlike normal food poisoning or the flu, I didn't feel better after throwing up. I still felt like crap.

It comes out both ends. My colleague calls it "dual action." Running to the bathroom, I had to pause to make a decision - which end to accommodate first? I ended up sitting on the toilet with the trash can between my knees.

My colleague has made a few lifestyle adjustments as a result of her first bout of South Asian food poisoning. She's learned to line her wicker wastepaper basket with a plastic bag. And she now keeps a hair rubber band within arm's reach of the toilet.

We definitely earned our hardship pay!

I Hate to Play Favorites, But...

2011-04-03T06:25:00.000-07:00

As part of my job I get 6-7 newspapers a day. My favorite paper is The Himalayan Times. Until now, the only reason for this was because it publishes Calvin & Hobbes on Sundays.

Incidentally, another paper has recently starting publishing Calvin & Hobbes. Coincidence? Or is my influence in the Nepali press taking hold?

Anyway, I now have two more reasons to love THT. On April 1 it published a front page story about William & Kate choosing to spend their honeymoon in Nepal. It wasn't until the conclusion on page 3 that they announced it was an April Fools joke.

The second reason - yesterday they used the phrase "hoo ha" in their lead headline.

Gooooood morning, Kathmandu!

2011-04-01T08:09:00.000-07:00

This morning I was awoken by a bullfight. No kidding. Two bulls fighting outside my house.

Let me set this up for you. Get comfortable, this could take a while.

First I need to explain that my house is not soundproof. I hear everything. My next door neighbors, every tweet and caw from any bird within half a mile, and, of course, the honking. My house is on the corner of 2 small streets. In the States, when a vehicle approaches a T intersection, it stops, checks to make sure there are no cars coming, then it turns. Not in Kathmandu. Vehicles don’t stop or even slow down when they make a turn. They just honk their horn to warn any oncoming cars to get out of the way. My point is that every car that passes my house honks its horn.

I’m a very light sleeper. Not a good thing in Kathmandu. So I use the embassy-provided air filter as a white noise maker to block out the city noise. I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep or stay asleep without it. The clean air it produces is an added benefit (especially these days when being outside for any length of time burns my eyes).

Kathmandu has an energy problem, meaning there is no electricity for much of the day. The embassy provides generators, but encourages us to use the timers so that the generators won’t kick in unless it’s when we need it to. My generator’s timer is set so that if the city power goes out from 11:00pm to 6:00am, the generator will not turn on. The power usually shuts off sometime during the night. Which means my white noise maker / air filter shuts off, leaving me susceptible to noises.

Cows and bulls roam the streets of Kathmandu freely. They’re supposed to be sacred, but I don’t understand what is so sacred about farm animals picking through piles of garbage on the street for food.

Are you still with me?

So at 5:00 this morning the power was out and my generator was off, so there was no white noise to block the hideous sound that woke me up. Wondering what on God's green earth could possibly make that sound, I peeked out my window just in time to see a huge bull finish his “business.” Just then a second bull appeared and I knew this would not end well. Sure enough, they went at it. Horns locked, the second bull slammed the first bull into my gate. After a little more rough-housing, and a lot more mooing, the bulls took their scuffle down the road.

Later that morning as I headed to work, I saw a big, poopy butt-print on the outside of my gate. It’s a glamorous life I lead.

Holi & Cheese

2011-03-19T20:06:00.000-07:00

Holi is a Nepali celebration of colors. In reality, Holi is a day for smearing colored powder on your friends and neighbors and throwing water balloons at anyone who walks by. It’s great fun, especially if you’re watching the festivities on the street from the safety of a sealed motorpool van.

Multi-colored kids would pelt our van with water balloons. The RSO on board would respond by opening the window and shooting them with his water gun. This delighted the onlookers, many of whom had been earlier victims of the young mischief-makers.

The real reason for the motorpool transportation was for a trip to the farm of a French cheese maker. When I discovered that there is a French guy who makes fresh cheese just outside of Kathmandu, I insisted that the CLO organize a trip. So a group of use went up to the peaceful spot and enjoyed a nice afternoon of cheese, bread, and sausage (all made right there on the farm) and, of course, wine (NOT made on the farm). I almost forgot I was in Kathmandu.

Things They Should Tell You in A100

2011-03-11T01:00:00.000-08:00

I've compiled some advice that should be given to all new officers in A100. This mainly applies to working at hardship posts. I'll add to the list as I think of new things, or as others contribute something.

ALWAYS carry toilet paper wherever you go. And hand sanitizer.

Bring comfortable shoes you don't give a crap about.

Learn to like, no love, tea.

Buy good earplugs.

Never ask, “What kind of meat is this?”

Always buy the generic first class letter stamps, not the ones with cute designs whose amounts will be outdated in a matter of months. (I still have an entire sheet of 39 cent stamps featuring classic cartoon characters.)

Online bill paying and Skype will be your best friends.

Buy the annual subscription to an online greeting card web site.

Courtesy of Hannah: Never wear heels when you're a control officer. NEVER.

Freak Show

2011-03-04T20:04:00.000-08:00

I am a freak. When I walk down a road in Nepal (outside of Kathmandu) I am a pale-as-can-be, red-headed, blue-eyed freak that causes young and old Nepalis alike to stare in awe as I pass. Sometimes I'll smile at the kids and say, "Namaste." Satisfied that I won't bite, they squeal with laughter. The freak can speak!

This was most evident during my 5-day road trip in eastern Nepal. It was amusing at first. But by the third day of open-mouthed stares, it was old. As someone who doesn't particularly enjoy the spotlight, being on display all the time was annoying.

Power Struggle

2011-02-24T01:09:00.000-08:00

Kathmandu has a chronic energy problem. Every few weeks a new loadshedding schedule comes out that shows when each neighborhood will be without power. These outages total 12-14 hours a day. Don't feel sorry for me yet, embassy residences have generators that kick in when the city power goes out.

But the city-provided power is often not enough to run basic appliances. Sometimes when I try to re-heat leftovers in the microwave, the food stays cold no matter how long I zap it. Forget about using the stove or oven.

Last month the embassy installed an electric gate on my compound gate to make it easier and safer for me to drive in and out of my residence. Unfortunately, the city-provided power is not enough to operate the gate. Remember when people had to manually open and close their garage doors, before there were remote controlled garage doors? That's me. So, rain or shine, I have to open the gate, drive out, park, close the gate, and get back in my car. Tragic, right? Ok, now you can feel sorry me.

Establishing Connections

2011-01-22T21:40:00.000-08:00

Recently I met with the editorial board and some reporters of one of the major press outlets in Nepal. During the discussion, they asked my opinion of the Nepali press environment. It was an interesting question, considering my previous post was Baghdad.

Iraq was a controversial topic and reporters were always on the lookout for a juicy story. So embassy press folks had to be on guard. If a reporter asked if the ambassador had met with the prime minister that day, if you weren't careful with your response ("No, the ambassador didn't meet with the prime minister") the next day's headline could be problematic ("American Ambassador Refuses to Meet the Prime Minister").

It's nice to be in an environment where the free press is still too new to have developed "gotcha journalism." Most of the major papers here will make an effort to reach out to me for confirmation before running a story about U.S. policy.

Of course there are exceptions. A paper ran a story about the latest State Department travel warning for Nepal and included commentary from an official that we were trying to sabotage Nepal's Year of Tourism. We never had the opportunity to explain that it's standard policy to issue a revised travel advisory every 6 months, or that the new advisory's language about the political unrest and demonstrations was actually toned down compared to the previous advisory. I guess I need to establish better relations with that paper so they'll give me a call beforehand next time.

At the end of my meeting with the editorial board, one of the reporters asked me when is the latest they can call me? How about on weekends? Can you imagine a Washington Post reporter asking the Baghdad Info Officer if 10:00 pm is too late to call?

I Can Be Charming, Dammit!

2011-01-10T06:03:00.000-08:00

I'm not a people person. There, I said it. I don't enjoy chit chat with acquaintances or small talk with people I'm never going to see again. I'm not interested in what some random person's kid's second grade teacher said about his artistic abilities. Nor do I care about some other random person's hellish traffic stories.

As you can imagine, the Foreign Service - and Public Diplomacy work especially - forces these exact scenarios on me regularly. I've gotten pretty good at faking it and if there's wine involved, I may even enjoy a conversation.

Recently I was asked to attend a not-very-interesting function on behalf of the Front Office.

Front Office: Thanks for attending this. Just go, be charming for a couple hours, then leave.

Smart-ass friend*: Heather? Charming?

Me: I can be charming, dammit!

And so I was.

*I realized that most of the people I consider to be friends are smart-asses. I'm not sure what that says about me.

Christmas in Kathmandu

2010-12-25T01:27:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas in Kathmandu. It's been hard to feel the holiday spirit in a country that doesn't celebrate Christmas. Here and there I might see a hotel or a store that put up some lights in the window, and the effort is actually quite touching. But it doesn't feel like Christmas without holiday songs on the radio or decorated houses and storefronts.

Christmas Eve I went to Mass at a church in Patan. No, it wasn't like Mass at home, but there was music, a nativity scene, and the familiar rituals. There were Nepali touches as well - shoes left outside, floor seating, and power outages.

The gifts I sent home 3 weeks ago didn't make it in time for Christmas (stupid pouch trolls!), but the gifts from my parents arrived here a few days ago. Thanks to Skype, I spent Christmas morning (Christmas Eve back home) opening gifts with my family.

Merry Christmas!

Searching for Silence

2010-12-12T04:17:00.000-08:00

With each overseas assignment the honeymoon period gets shorter and shorter. The honeymoon period is the time frame after moving to a foreign country where the excitement of being somewhere new overshadows certain harsh realities of living in a foreign country. People burning piles of trash in the street give the place "character" and bargaining with a taxi driver is part of the "adventure."

Kathmandu is my third assignment, and the honeymoon period was short. What gets to me the most is the noise. Always. Everywhere. Dogs barking (in my neighborhood, the stray dogs are well-behaved, it's my neighbor who has the high-pitched yapping dog that drives me bonkers). Men walking down the street calling out what they're selling. And the honking. As far as I can tell, people honk for 4 reasons:

1) On narrow winding alleys to alert oncoming traffic that he's coming around the bend.

2) To warn the vehicle in front that he is about to pass.

3) To warn the oncoming vehicle that he better not pass.

4) Just for the heck of it.

Even at night I have to turn on the air filter as white noise to mask the nighttime ambient noise. And if there is a rare quiet moment, chances are that the power will go out and my generator will kick in, which emits a constant rumbling grumble.

I miss silence.

Pouch Trolls

2010-11-15T05:34:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I contacted the diplomatic pouch center in Dulles to find out what happened to a CVS package that hadn't arrived. Unsatisfied with the skin care products available in Kathmandu, I was eager to get my Aveeno products. Dulles responded that they returned the package because it exceeded the amount of liquids allowed by God (aka the FAM).

I calculated the total number of ounces of face wash, lotions, and eye cream and determined that it was about 10 oz. The FAM allows up to 16 oz. Ten ounces is less than sixteen ounces. Unless they were counting the bottle of Excedrin gel tabs as liquid. I explained this to the pouch trolls at Dulles, but they ignored me.

My mother was kind enough to purchase the desired Aveeno products and ship them to me. Concerned that the pouch trolls might, once again, return the package, she included a letter in the box. It read, in part:

"I hope that once you've inspected the products you will permit this shipment to go to Heather as she has discovered that the skin care products in Nepal are less than satisfactory. I have left the items in their original packaging and sealed the box quite securely. I hope everything is in order. I appreciate your vigilance in keeping our people abroad safe from harm but please, once you have verified the safety of this package, permit it to go to Heather. She gets cranky when her skin-care regimen is interrupted."

I'm pleased to say the package arrived safely.

Trek

2010-11-13T04:29:00.000-08:00

I’m often asked why I used my Baghdad bidding advantage to go to Nepal. Kathmandu is not exactly London or Paris. Now I have a tangible response. Trekking.

I did my first trek last week. It was a 5 day trek in the Annapurna range. This is why I came to Nepal! It was wonderful to be outdoors in such beautiful country. But it wasn’t without some effort. A lot of effort, in fact.

The first day was meant to be a short, relatively easy day. An hour drive from Pokhara, I, along with a trekking partner, a guide, and a porter started the trek in Nayapul. After a few hours of fairly easy hiking, we stopped for lunch. So far so good. Because we got a pretty early start, we decided to move beyond where the itinerary said we should stay the night. So we forged on to get a head start on the 500 meters of uphill steps.

Strangely, we climbed up steps for 45 minutes before we even reached the “real” steps. The key to going uphill is to go slowly. Still, it’s tiring. I said that I thought Binod, our 18 year old porter, looked tired. (This was a lie. In fact, Binod looked perfectly fine.) Being the compassionate person I am, I insisted that we stop for a few minutes to let Binod rest.

Up, up, and more up. My first lesson of trekking in Nepal is that when you think you’ve reached the top, there’s always more uphill. We finally reached the tea house and enjoyed tea on the patio overlooking the steps we had just conquered. After dinner, a group of Austrians staying in the same tea house taught the Nepali porters how to play Uno. “Now you must say ‘Uno!’” Very entertaining.

The second day of trekking started out well. I felt strong, which was good because the entire day was spent going up more steps. The Nepalis seemed impressed with my language ability. I passed an old woman on the trail and I said, “Namaste, didi” (hello, big sister). She laughed this wonderful laugh and answered, “Namaste, bahini” (hello, little sister).

We arrived in Ghorepani in the early afternoon and the Annapurna peaks were peeking through the clouds. It was the first time I had seen the snow capped Annapurna range with nothing between me and it, except the foothills (what we would refer to as “mountains” the Nepalis call “hills”).

The third day started early and was painful. We got up before dawn and marched up 500ish steep meters to the top of Poon Hill in order to see the sunrise. My legs were in serious pain, it was dark and cold, and I was not enjoying the hike. Trying to motivate myself up those steps, I told myself how amazing my quads will look when this is over.

We made it to the top in time to see an amazing sunrise. Worth it.

I had an invigorating breakfast, so I felt really good when we left Ghorepani, even though the first hour was uphill. The fog came in just enough to keep things cool as we descended into the forest. The trail became very rocky and my feet started to hurt as we stopped for lunch.

My legs really didn’t want to start again, but I got back into the groove for about an hour. Then my legs and feet really started to hurt. “Binod looks tired.” (He did not.) We rested for a few minutes and trudged on. Just when I thought my legs couldn’t possibly go on… more uphill steps. My moaning and groaning could be heard for miles.

Finally, we stumbled into Tadapani (which means “far water”). I collapsed on the cot but soon realized that my clothes were damp and the coldness was attracted to the dampness, making true rest impossible until I changed into dry (if not clean) clothes.

The next morning we enjoyed breakfast outside with a gorgeous view of the Annapurna peaks. My legs were really feeling it after 3 days of steep uphill. But this day’s hike was short and mostly downhill to Ghandruk.

Ghandruk is a lovely village that has managed to balance being attractive to tourists while still being a simple rural Nepali village where people beat rice stalks on well-kept stone patios. I’m pretty sure the cabbage and spinach that were in my lunch were pulled fresh from the cottage’s garden.

Exploring Ghandruk, we saw a sign pointing the way toward a temple. We reached stone steps (of course) that led upwards to an unseen destination. We kept going up and I reached an almost meditative state of mind where the soreness didn’t matter. The temple wasn’t very impressive – just a small concrete structure – but the achievement of getting there was satisfying.

The next morning my legs screamed in protest when I told them to get out of bed. But I got them moving by reminding them of the private attached European style bathroom (a luxurious exception to the shared, smelly hole-in-the-ground bathroom that was typical at the tea houses), which meant I didn’t have to go outside in the cold and I wouldn’t make them squat. We reached a truce.

It was hard to leave knowing that it was the last day of the trek. The first hour of the downhill hike was painful, but then the trail evened out. There were many Nepalis on the trail carrying huge loads of hay, firewood, cages of chickens, or posts & tins. Honestly, I don’t know how they do it. I liked the (perceived?) character of the rural Nepali. Life is physically hard, but everyone seems content. Nepalis here smile easily. I told myself that I must try to get out to the rural areas as often as possible.

Looking back on the trek, I didn’t know I had that in me. During the tough parts, not even the “museum quality quads” motivation worked (and my quads don’t look any different, dammit!). But I managed to keep moving forward. I’m not sure I’m inclined to do a hard-cord 14 day trek, but I know I could do a tough 7 day trek and enjoy the experience.

Jazzmandu

2010-10-31T08:32:00.000-07:00

I'm about to admit something that may be grounds for dismissal from the Foreign Service. I don't like jazz. I'm sorry, I tried. But it just doesn't do anything for me. High-pitched clarinets with zig-zaggy notes all over the place. I need a little more structure in my music.

But jazz is a staple of the State Department's cultural exchange programs. This week is the 8th annual Jazzmandu festival in Kathmandu. Tonight the Ambassador hosted a performance by a group of jazz musicians - 3 Americans and 2 Nepalese. The Nepalis in the audience seemed to enjoy the performance, especially the jazz rendition of a popular Nepali folk song. That was actually kind of fun.

I wonder if I could bring over a bluegrass band for our next exchange program.

Cheezwiz

2010-10-24T01:38:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about my stuff a lot lately. My HHE hasn’t arrived yet, so I’m still living off my UAB (which, as I look back, I under packed). I’ve been dreaming about where I’ll put my things, where I’ll hang the pictures, that kind of thing. I think I’ve figured out why “stuff” is so important to Foreign Service Officers. It’s the one part of our lives we have complete control over.

We live in homes that we didn’t choose with furniture that we didn’t pick. [I don’t say this to complain. There is no way the State Department can provide furnished housing in such a way to satisfy everyone. This is just a reality of working in the Foreign Service.] Even with all of our own belongings surrounding us, our houses can feel like home only up to a certain point.

So we buy stuff. Within just a few weeks of arriving in Kathmandu, I had already bought a gorgeous Kashmiri rug, a few knickknacks, and some jewelry. It helped me feel a little bit settled into my new house.

In Nepali, stuff/things is called “cheezwiz.” No kidding. So I’m waiting impatiently for my cheezwiz to arrive and longing for the day when I can put my own books on the shelves, cook with my own pots & pans, and put out my own picture frames.

Acting Public Affairs Officer

2010-10-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

I've been the Acting PAO for a couple weeks now. I love it! Doing the administrative stuff for the section as well as my regular IO responsibilities keeps me very busy, but it's been a great experience.

I've done all the paperwork for hiring two new positions and re-defining an existing LES position; I've lost a battle with Dulles to ship a ton of books through the pouch; I've converted a storage room into an office; I've written remarks for the Ambassador and the USAID Mission Director for a regional conference; I've created a Public Affairs policy for the mission; I've handled several press requests from journalists in Nepal, India, and the U.S.; and I've revamped the embassy's Facebook page.

I haven't felt this sense of accomplishment in a loooooong time. The only problem is that my brain won't shut down. I go to bed and my brain is still spinning; I wake up at 4:30 am and my brain kicks in to gear. They didn't cover that at FSI.

म नेपाली जस्तो छु

2010-10-04T07:22:00.000-07:00

(I'm just like a Nepali)

I'm starting to get the hang of living in Kathmandu. I can push my way through a throng of motorcycles to cross the street. When night falls as I'm walking home, I'm getting pretty good at not stepping in holes or dog poop. But the constant honking still gets on my nerves.

Sunday I went shopping for fabric in Thamel, the "touristy" part of town. I bought a book by a Nepali woman. I bought a small bronze Durga statue and had tea and interesting conversation with the shopkeepers (in Nepali, thank you very much). I'm having a ring made. I bought two cotton shirts from a small shop and bargained with the kid by persuading him in Nepali that "I'm not a tourist, I'm just like a Nepali, so give me the same price you would give a Nepali person!" And I browsed some Kashmiri carpets.

I did not, however, buy fabric.

Home Sweet Home

2010-09-22T06:42:00.000-07:00

I moved into my permanent home this week. Overall, I'm pleased with the house. The colors are more muted and subtle than most other embassy housing (my temporary house had pink-mauve swan tiles in the bathroom - I have absolutely no bathroom accoutrements that would go with that).

Like all big houses in Kathmandu, the bigness is spread out vertically. There are three floors... but wait, there's more! The third floor has a nice deck with an outdoor staircase that leads to the laundry room and a puja (prayer) room. Mere words cannot describe this:

I am right across the street from the prime minister's residence. From the deck I have a nice view into the compound. The downside is that the machine gun-wielding police who guard the compound from watch towers have a nice view into my bedroom window.

I'm sure the prime minister will knock on my door any day now with a batch of brownies to welcome me to the neighborhood.

Can You Find Nepalgunj on a Map?

2010-09-15T06:21:00.001-07:00

My first trip outside Kathmandu was to accompany the DCM to a combating trafficking in persons program in Nepalgunj, along the Indian border. Transportation in Nepal is sketchy. Bus accidents happen every day and recently a small plane crashed near Kathmandu, killing 13 people, including 4 Americans. So I admit I was a bit nervous about the one hour flight. But we were flying on Buddha Air - what could go wrong?

The flight was fine and the program was about what you'd expect from a day of talking heads. Here's some insight into how things work in a third world country.

* Everyone has to give opening remarks. No less than 11 government and local organization officials delivered remarks before the DCM, an hour later, delivered her spontaneously shortened speech.

* The power will go out several times.

* Even when it's hot and muggy, hot tea will be served and you will be expected to drink it.

* There are more bicycles, rickshaws and cows on the road than there are cars. So you will never go more than 25 mph.

The highlight of the trip was to watch a street drama. This is a popular way to inform people, in an entertaining way, about important topics like trafficking in people. A Nepali theater troupe, indirectly funded by USAID, prepared an hour-long series of skits showing how people get scammed into forced labor, prostitution, etc. and how the law protects them. It sounds like a gloomy subject, but the troupe was very good, using humor and really engaging the crowd.

The next morning I had breakfast with a few local journalists and learned a lot about the press. I left with a renewed determination to reach out to more rural journalists and provide training opportunities.

The flight home was bumpy. I guess Buddha was in a bad mood because we hit the worst turbulence I've every felt. If anyone had been standing in the aisle when it hit, they would almost certainly have been tossed around a bit. It's all part of the adventure.

The New Girl in Town

2010-09-10T23:08:00.000-07:00

It's been just over a week since I arrived in Kathmandu. Moving to a new home in a new country while starting a new job is hectic no matter how prepared you are. But I'm off to a great start. Granted, my permanent house suffered water damage just a couple days before I arrived, so I'm in temporary housing for another week. But that's been the only blip. Knock on wood.

The first few days at the embassy were dedicated to getting checked in and making the rounds. I'm fortunate to have a great local staff, which made those first few days less painful than they could have been. Now that the administrative stuff is mostly done, I've been able to focus on actual public diplomacy work.

Which leads me to the best part - I love this job! I've already released a press statement about the Ambassador's meetings with the Prime Minister and the Maoist Chairman, prepared remarks for the DCM for a Combating Trafficking in Persons program, and have been invited to participate in the Ambassador's off-site retreat to review the Mission Strategic Plan. Not bad for my first week.

When I joined the Foreign Service, this is exactly the kind of work I envisioned myself doing. It's taken 5 years to get to this point. I plan on enjoying every minute of it.

Traveling in Style

2010-08-31T09:23:00.001-07:00

One of the ways I've changed since joining the foreign service is that I've become a snooty traveller. Traveling as frequently as I do, I like to travel comfortably. The problem is, once you travel overseas in business class, you can't ever go back to coach. I'm ruined for life.

Kathmandu is directly on the other side of the planet from the middle of the US. Washington to Doha is a 14 hour overnight flight. I'm not doing that in coach. Because the Department squashed its biz class policy, the upgrade is coming out of my pocket. But the Department is paying for a nice hotel room for my long layover in Doha. Thank you, US taxpayer! Then a 5 hour flight to Kathmandu.

Traveling in style has made me a snob. I don't like commuting with "the common people." For example, there should be separate security lines for smart and stupid travelers. It's annoying to stand behind someone for 15 minutes and watch him finally get to the metal detector and frantically try to take off his shoes, empty his pockets, and take off his watch all at once, as if he didn't know this was going to happen.

Next stop, Kathmandu!

Oh What a Beautiful Feeling

2010-08-19T16:53:00.000-07:00

Training is over. Check-out paperwork is submitted. Pack-out is scheduled. Consumables are purchased. Flight is confirmed. Vaccinations are done. Visa is in the passport.

There's nothing left to do except pack out and get on the plane. And yet, there's that nagging feeling that something important has been forgotten.

This weekend I will sort the piles for pack-out. This is easily the worst part about the foreign service lifestyle. Sadly, pack-outs never get easier. But the more you do, the smarter you become.

Single White Female Seeks Office Management Specialist

2010-08-03T14:10:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there are plenty of blogs that provide insight into the unique challenges of raising a family in the foreign service. So, as a single woman in the foreign service, I feel obliged to share my tales of single woe.

I'm a mere month away from departing for post. I have to arrange my flight, schedule and prepare for pack out, get my vaccinations, apply for a diplomatic visa, buy my consumable items (without a car), cancel my gym membership, you get the idea.

I'm also in training full time, where students are threatened with having their fingernails pulled off if they miss even an hour of class, and there's no admin time. This leaves me with a dilemma - how the hell am I supposed to drop off my diplomatic passport and visa application at Main State? I thought I had won the battle of wits with the Department by borrowing a friend's trailing spouse who was going to Main State, but the Department's bureaucratic absurdity managed to out fox me.

I'm also nervous about pack out. When I packed out from Romania, I was outnumbered by 4 packers. I didn't discover how much stuff was "lost" until over a year later when I unpacked my stuff last fall. The bastards stole my Indiana Jones DVD trilogy.

I suppose being single really isn't the issue. I need an OMS more than I need a husband.

Free at Last!

2010-07-11T05:32:00.000-07:00

I passed my language exam. It was oddly anti-climactic. Rather than doing cartwheels, I slipped into a semi-catatonic state. After 10 months of one-on-one language training, I was too exhausted to be excited.

Now that a couple nights have passed, the relief is bubbling up to the surface. I went out last night and didn't take flashcards with me. I'm no longer translating conversations in my head just for practice. I don't have to be at FSI at 7:30 Monday morning. It feels really good. Finally.

In fact, the last time I felt this good was when I dropped off my 20 pound kevlar vest at the airport in Amman for the very last time.

The Home Stretch

2010-06-21T09:10:00.000-07:00

There's a scene in the film The Mummy where sleazy Benny encounters the wretched mummy for the first time. As the mummy moves closer, Benny shakily pulls out a cross pendant from around his neck and starts reciting a prayer from the bible. Seeing that the mummy isn't impressed, he pulls out a huge collection of diverse religious pendants and holds them up one by one, hoping one of them will stop the mummy in its tracks.

That's how I feel now. I'll pray to any god to get me through the last 3 weeks of language training. I'm open to anything to keep the frustration at bay. I've tried yoga and kickboxing. I may start putting a shot of vodka in my orange juice in the morning. Or Xanax.

Language training is all about sucking. It's just a matter of degrees. You will never be a native speaker/reader of the language you're studying, so you will always suck to some degree. So each day in training is an analysis of how much you suck that day. I'm tired of sucking. I wonder how much vodka I'll need to get through 3 weeks.

Field Trip

2010-06-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

This afternoon one of my instructors took me on a field trip to a shopping plaza that had several Indian stores to practice speaking Nepali about everyday things. I give my instructor brownie points for trying to do something different. But this was just painful.

I am anti-social. I don't do small talk. So you'll understand why 2 hours of chit chat in Nepali was excruciating.

In the Indian grocery store:

Instructor: Heatherji, look at all the different kinds of food. This store is very different from Giant, isn't it?

Me: Oh yes, what a large variety of food. It is very different from Giant.

Instructor: Look at these vegetables? Do you like green onions?

Me: Of course I like green onions.

At the Indian book store:

Instructor: Look, Heatherji, there are many books about the Hindu religion.

Me: I found a few books about Buddha.

Instructor: Look, here is a Nepali-English dictionary.

Me: How nice. But it is very expensive.

You get the idea. Meaningless small talk in English is annoying. Meaningless small talk in another language is brutal. The best part was trying some Samosa Chaat in a small Indian cafe. Yum!

So Tired

2010-05-20T03:59:00.000-07:00

I realize I run the risk of sounding like the kind of whiny creep I usually despise, but oh well. I'm tired. And I'm bored.

For the past few months, my language training schedule has been -- An hour or more of conversational speaking. A speaking at length exercise and/or interview, with a critique. A reading in depth and an authentic reading exercise, with line-by-line analysis. Every day.

Every day it's the mentally exhausting equivalent of taking the dreaded test (without the emotional stress, fortunately). I'm tired. The strange thing is that I feel like I'm more advanced in Nepali now than I was when I reached a 3/3 in Romanian. But my instructors are making me feel like I still have a long way to go.

A little more than a month to go.

Straight or On the Rocks?

2010-05-05T08:59:00.000-07:00

A strange thing happened in class today. I had a strong urge to drink a shot of whiskey. This is strange because A) I don't like whiskey, and B) it was 10:22 in the morning. "What happened at 10:22?" you might ask. I was in the middle of reading an in-depth Nepali article and it was at 10:22 that the futility of this task became more than I wanted to bear.

I just wasn't getting it and my instructor wasn't explaining it in English very well. I began counting down the minutes to the end of class at 10:40 (today was an abbreviated admin day). 18 painful minutes seemed like forever.

I keep telling my instructor that mimicking the in-depth reading exercise that is used in the test is not a good teaching tool. The test is meant to discover what you don't know. The classroom is for developing reading comprehension. But what do I know?

I'll take my whiskey straight, please.

Wait for Me!!!

2010-04-21T10:10:00.001-07:00

While I'm slogging along in language training, interesting things are happening in Nepal. Our new ambassador arrived within the past week. A teenager from Big Bear is currently scaling Mt. Everest. My housing assignment has been made (is it really necessary to have "Pinky House" emblazoned on a bronze plaque outside my gate?).

And things are heating up politically. Journalists are being attacked. Nobody believes that a new constitution will be ready by next month's deadline. The Maoists have started military-style training of their youth cadres (and then they express disappointment that the US government won't take them off the terrorist list).

I guess the post-Baghdad adrenaline crash has affected my reasoning because all I can think of when I read about what's going on in Nepal is - "I hope they don't fix everything before I get there!"

I'd like to report a missing sense of humor.

2010-04-14T16:13:00.001-07:00

Several things trigger a bad mood for me: PMS, hunger, and a lack of chocolate (heaven help the world if all three happen at once). I can usually tell when the cranky takes over because I have angry thoughts that the world is conspiring to ruin my day, e.g. "The people in front of me are walking so slowly just to piss me off." And if the vending machine gets snagged on the last Snickers bar, I think, "Why is this happening to me???"

Yes, I can be a drama queen.

What inspired this post? I'm in month 7 of a 10 month one-on-one language training. Some days my sense of humor is strained past its limit.

Flash Forward

2010-04-04T04:11:00.001-07:00

The other night while on a tour of the West Wing, we stopped in the press room. The lights were on, just as if an actual press conference were taking place. Standing by the press secretary's podium I looked out at where the cameras usually are and glanced down at the seats with nameplates saying "Helen Thomas" and "Reuters."

I indulged my imagination just enough to picture myself in a less glamorous version of this press room answering questions from Nepali journalists about American policy. In Nepali. "Ameriki aankama aatankawad samuhaa nuhuna, maowadile hinsa chodnu gaarcha."

I don't know how realistic my flash forward is, but it did ignite excitement (and, to be honest, a little anxiety) about my future work in Kathmandu. I hope all the pain of language training will prepare me to speak to Nepali audiences somewhat intelligently.

I have no fantasies about standing behind a podium like this in DC sometime in the future. State Department Spokesman is not a title I crave. But that's another blog post.

Verbal Acrobatics

2010-03-18T17:08:00.000-07:00

The Nepali language is very un-English. It requires mental gymnastics to construct a sentence. In fact, my instructor used the phrase "verbal acrobatics" to describe the unique ways Nepali verbs can be tweaked to convey additional information. Just adding one syllable to a conjugated verb communicates the idea that the person just discovered this thought ("I just discovered that I like eating raw meat.")

Nepalis will inevitably complicate a sentence, if possible. Why say something using only three syllables (ma baschhu - I sit) when you can use seven (ma basirahekochhu - I continue to be in a state of sitting)?

Yesterday in class I gave a presentation on economics. Ignoring for a moment the fact that I know very little about this subject, I am pleased to say I was able to give the following example of supply & demand in flawless Nepali - "If the number of available cars is larger than the number of people who want cars, then the price of cars will be inexpensive." To give you an idea of how this sentence is constructed in Nepali (and why it took me 10 minutes to write it) here's the literal translation back into English - "If available car's number than car-wanting people's number big became, then car's price inexpensive would be."

My brain needs an ice pack.

What Does Body Armor Have to do with Language Training?

2010-02-07T07:25:00.000-08:00

I'm at the mid point of language training - 5 months down, 5 months to go. I was telling someone recently how I had to give a 10 minute presentation in Nepali on the American educational system, and I realized that sounds pretty impressive. So how come it doesn't feel impressive? Progress is hard to recognize when you're focused on what you still can't do.

A couple weeks ago, I met with a language training consultant. I took a bunch of personality tests with questions like: I think wearing medieval armor would be fun, true or false? Two years ago I might have answered true, but after a year of wearing 20 pounds of bullet-proof armor in Baghdad, I have a different perspective. The results of the tests were predictable - ISTJ, likes organized learning, etc.

Frankly, the meeting with the language consultant wasn't terribly helpful. The language test process came up and I shared how a lucky guess got me an extra half point in reading comprehension. She defended the practice, and I interpreted her response to mean that the test doesn't measure reading comprehension, but rather intelligence (aptitude). Interesting.

Chit Chat

2010-01-08T11:15:00.000-08:00

The first hour of Nepali class consists of chit chat. Casual conversation. This is painful for me for two reasons.

First, class begins at 7:40 in the morning. I can barely speak English that early in the morning, nevermind Nepali.

Secondly, I'm not much for chit chat. If I have something to say, I'll say it, but otherwise, the pressure to maintain polite conversation for an hour is painful (especially without the assistance of a cocktail).

Of course, speaking at length is an important part of the language test. I feel like I'm being judged for a character flaw rather than a deficiency in speaking the language.

A friend of mine who is also a language student has the gift of the gab. During her first test, she was given a photograph of Kofi Annan and asked to talk about him for 10 minutes. What she knew about Kofi and was capable of saying after a few months of training only lasted a few minutes. So she made up stuff. She explained that Kofi came to America for college. That's when he met her mother; in fact, she is Kofi's love child. I'm not sure if she used the literal Arabic translation for "love child" or if she paraphrased.

2009 in Review

2009-12-20T15:53:00.000-08:00

Here are a few highlights from 2009.

January 1, 2009 - The first annual Baghdad Bowl in the Green Zone.

February 2009 - I traveled to Madagascar (above) and Tanzania (below). What an amazing experience.

February 2009 - Playing tourist in the Green Zone with a couple friends, we get our picture taken with a squad of Iraqi soldiers.

March (or was it April?) 2009 - Meeting Secretary Clinton during her visit to Baghdad.

June 2009 - My final R&R started with a few days exploring Jordan. This picture was taken on a mule ride to a monastery above Petra.

June 2009 - On a dream vacation - a Mediterranean cruise starting in Barcelona and traveling to Monte Carlo, Italy, Greece and Croatia, ending in Venice (above, St. Mark's Basilica).

July 4, 2009 - Independence Day, Baghdad style. The DFAC staff always does an amazing job decorating for the holidays.

August 2009 - Leaving Baghdad after a 13 month assignment. I really enjoyed depositing the flak jacket and helmet for the last time!

August - September 2009 - Home Leave in California. I spent some time with family then finally got to enjoy the cabin I purchased in January. Big Bear offered lots of opportunities to enjoy the outdoors. The photo above was taken during a hike on the north side of Big Bear Lake.

November 2009 - After a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner, my family and I stayed at the cabin for a few days. It snowed like crazy, but we managed to have fun.

Best wishes for a happy and healthy 2010.

The Test

2009-12-20T06:50:00.000-08:00

At FSI, the festivity of the holiday season has been overshadowed by the fervor of the language test season. In that spirit, I'd like to propose a radical idea - get rid of the language test. This is not a knee-jerk reaction to getting a bad grade on my first progress test (I did better than I had hoped), but based on my own experience and the experience of colleagues, State should seriously consider eliminating the language test. Here's why.

The most important reason is that passing "the test" has become more important than the true purpose of language training - preparing diplomats for their jobs overseas. How much class time is spent practicing for the test and learning tricks for getting a good score? ("Don't forget to start the speaking at length portion by saying, 'This morning I will speak to you on the topic of computers.'") I admit that test-taking skills often overlap with skills that will actually be useful in our jobs, but that is a fortunate coincidence, not necessarily by design.

Secondly, the test is a sword of Damocles hanging over the head of untenured junior officers. JOs need to pass the test to be eligible for tenure; therefore, the test becomes a painful distraction. The test is also used to measure, to some extent, the success or failure of instructors and sections. Think about the consequences of that.

Lastly, as any language student (and a fair number of instructors) will tell you, the test does not accurately measure a person's language proficiency. Nerves, a poor choice of topics, and even lucky guesses can affect a student's score.

I'm not sure what an appropriate alternative would be. Perhaps a panel of instructors observing students in class over a period of several days. Or students get to prepare a presentation on a topic of their choice followed by a Q&A session by instructors. I don't know what the answer is. But I think it's worth considering that the focus FSI puts on "the test" does not prepare students for their jobs. If you're lucky, your instructor will be able to balance both goals. If you're not lucky...

Where a Diplomat's Self Esteem Goes to Die

2009-12-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

Language training is designed to constantly push you further, so you never reach a comfort level. In preparation for my first progress test, I've been reading a lot of articles about bus accidents (apparently this type of thing happens a lot in Nepal). Just as I've gotten pretty good at reading for gist and for details, my instructor took me to the media lab and had me listen to some Nepali news reports about bus accidents. Holy crap.

I had two reactions to the news clips. The first - Why is he shouting at me? The second - Is he racing through the story so quickly because he gets paid by the number of stories he can squeeze into the newscast? More often than not, I leave class thinking, "I suck."

I guess language training is not an exercise in developing self-esteem.

How Many Languages Can I Butcher in One Sentence?

2009-10-22T16:54:00.001-07:00

I know enough Nepali to be able to construct simple sentences, but not enough to have a vocabulary that enables me to always communicate precisely what I want to say. When this happens, my brain reaches for the only non-English word it can think of. This is usually a Romanian word (although German occasionally pops up, too). So these days it's not uncommon for me to throw together Nepali, English and Romanian into a single sentence. While this is likely entertaining for my instructors, I don't think it will impress the testers when the time comes to evaluate my progress.

It reminds me of a time when I was traveling through Europe a couple years ago. The man at the airport check-in counter asked me a simple question to which I responded "Da, I mean yes, I mean ja, I mean si, I mean... where am I?" It's a very cosmopolitan life I lead.

Giddyup

2009-10-06T10:44:00.000-07:00

A month into Nepali language training, and the steep incline of learning has abruptly flattened to a plateau. That first month was great. I absorbed every drop the teachers threw at me. Learning a language full-time is much easier the second time around; I was miserable for most of Romanian language training.

I am the only student in my class. This is good for a few reasons. Namely, I'm only in the classroom 4 hours a day (but there's plenty of homework) and my teachers can customize the instruction to fit my pace and fluency. The other edge of that sword is that there's nobody else to take the heat for a while. It's all me all the time. And it would be nice sometimes to have another native English speaker in the class to help understand the grammatical explanations given by the non-native English speaking instructor. ("Did you understand when to use 'maa' in the post position and when not to?")

The other downside is that by the last hour of class on Friday my brain is slush. It just shuts down, like a stubborn mule that refuses to budge no matter how hard you kick it.

So now my stubborn mule brain and I have scaled the initial steep climb and have leveled off. I can see up ahead the rocky path of complicated conjugations, illogical verb tenses, and frustrating sentence structures. I'll need some sharp spurs in the next 9 months.

The Circle of Strife

2009-09-10T13:04:00.000-07:00

FSI Day 1

Me: I'd like to request access to my OpenNet account and get my FSI INET account password.

IT guy: It looks like Baghdad hasn't transferred your account yet. You'll have to send them an email and ask that they transfer the account.

Me: Um, how can I send them an email if I can't log on?

IT guy: Try logging on to the NEASA server. It might take a while the first time.

Me: Ok. And my FSI INET account?

IT guy: Here's your password. You should be all set.

Day 2

Me: I tried logging on to my FSI INET account but it says it's disabled and to see the network administrator.

IT guy: Huh. Let me try something... Ok it should work now.

Day 3

Me: After 40 minutes, I was able to log on to OpenNet through the NEASA server yesterday and sent an email to Baghdad to have them transfer the account. But today I logged on but couldn't get anything done. Before the system crashed for the fourth (and final) time, I saw that someone in Baghdad had replied to my email, but I couldn't read it.

IT guy: Oh. Go see Oliver, he'll have to help you. But it looks like he's pretty busy with someone else right now.

Me: You're telling me that out of all the people at the IT Help Desk, only Oliver can assist me, and out of all the people at the IT Help Desk, only Oliver is unavailable right now?

IT guy: Yeah. Do you wanna wait?

On the next episode of The Circle of Strife - payroll & voucher bureaucracy.

Bye Bye Baghdad

2009-08-13T10:44:00.000-07:00

As my departure from Baghdad approaches, I've been thinking about the past year. Here's what I will miss and what I will not miss about Baghdad.

What I won't miss:

Stepping outside and getting sandblasted by 115 degree wind and dirt
Iranian-made rockets
Action memos and 8-page cables

Baked fish and steamed vegetables
Personal Protective Equipment (aka kevlar vest & helmet)

Acronyms

T-walls

What I will miss:

Some incredible people
Flying in helicopters
Free all-you-can-eat ice cream
Girls night
Big guys with guns opening the door for me
The DFAC when it's decorated for holidays

Kurdistan Elections

2009-08-05T02:14:00.000-07:00

At the end of July, the Kurdistan Regional Government (a semi-autonomous area in northern Iraq) held elections for their parliament and president. I was part of a small team from the embassy that travelled to Erbil for a week to help monitor the voting and ballot counting.

The election monitoring teams were split up, and I travelled to Sulaymania and Dohuk. Each location is about a 3 hour drive from our base in Erbil. Kurdistan is very safe compared to the rest of Iraq; in fact, the Kurds like to boast that not a single American has been killed in the region (I guess that’s true of you don’t count certain cities in disputed areas along the border with the rest of Iraq).

Despite the safer environment, our security was tight. Our convoy included 5 armored Suburbans and 11 armed bodyguards. Our driver was a “banged up” former Special Forces soldier from Georgia who addressed everyone as Sir or Ma’am. We wore our body armor in the car. This was not a low profile movement.

The first day in Sulaymania I observed the special needs voting for the KRG soldiers, called the Peshmerga. The second day in Dohuk I observed the general voting. Our main job was to observe the actual voting process to make sure everything went according to the regulations. But the part I enjoyed the most was talking to the Kurds. Most seemed very happy to answer my questions (through an interpreter), although it’s likely they were just interested in a pleasant distraction from waiting in line in the extraordinary heat.

I was happy to see their enthusiasm and their confidence that this would be a free and fair election. I saw a surprising number of elderly people, but also young people. Some voting centers were more orderly than others, but standing in the heat for a couple hours would make anyone cranky.

As it turned out, the elections had a large turnout and the new opposition party, the Change party, won nearly twice as many parliament seats as expected. It was a historic election and I’m glad I got to see it up close.

Independence Day Baghdad Style

2009-07-04T02:31:00.000-07:00

When it comes to holidays or special occasions, we have a saying - this is Baghdad, we make do with what we've got. Today, July 4, is a good example of this.

I woke up this morning to yet another duststorm. Let me try to describe what this is like. The dirt is so fine, it hangs in the air effortlessly. It sneaks into the buildings and fills the hallways with a haze. It creeps past doors and blast-proof windows and settles on everything. Walking outside results in a grimey coat of dirt on skin and in hair. People cover their noses & mouths with surgical masks or handkerchiefs to avoid breathing in the dust.

But today is the Fourth of July. Grilling outdoors is not ideal, so we make do with eating our hotdogs and burgers inside the DFAC. The staff did a wonderful job decorating and it even cheered me up a bit. I enjoyed a traditional American meal of BBQ chicken, corn on the cob, potato salad, and root beer, followed by apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Not bad.

Embassy volunteers set up carnival-style games and contests. Throwing footballs through hoops and bouncing ping pong balls into bowls, all in the hope of winning a t-shirt. The highlight, of course, was dunking my roommate. I can't imagine how we got a dunk tank in Baghdad.

I missed the parades, the music, the outdoor BBQ, the flags, and the fireworks. But in Baghdad, no fireworks is probably a good thing.

A New Regime

2009-06-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

There have been many changes in the front office. With the exception of the DCM's OMS and myself, the entire staff has turned over. I recently returned from a 3 week vacation and found myself in the position of being the office veteran. Change can be both good and bad, but I think the positives are outweighing the negatives. The demand on us staffers is different; the hours are still long, but I am not chained to my desk as strictly as before.

The best change for me has been a sense that I can make a valuable contribution if given the chance. As the "office veteran," I am being utilized in a way that I haven't been before and it's nice. Of course, my time in the front office is coming to an end so this nice feeling will be short-lived.

A junior officer emailed me the other day because she is thinking about bidding on this position. She asked me to tell her about the job and it forced me to summarize the past 11 months; it wasn't easy. I told her about the dark side of what is a thankless job - the mundane tasks and the monotony. But I also told her that when I look back on this assignment when it's over, I will probably focus on the unique experiences it offered and the amazing people with whom I had the privilege to serve.

Two more months to go!

A Day at the Museum

2009-05-20T21:06:00.000-07:00

The Charge was invited to tour the newly re-opened Iraqi National Museum and I tagged along. As we pulled up to front of the building I saw a small group of people holding signs and a few reporters with cameras. I panicked because I had told the Charge there would be no press and she doesn't like surprises. It turned out that they weren't there for us; they were protesting the removal of the previous Director of the museum. This is Iraq, after all, and even something as seemingly innocuous as a museum has political intrigue.

The Deputy Director led us on a tour of the museum's impressive collection. Being a history nerd, I got a kick out of the small clay tablets with cuneiform writing that served as ancient trade contracts. I also saw statues and wall carvings that are thousands of years old. And illustrated manuscripts that reminded me of old illustrated bibles painted by monks.

The Embassy has been collaborating with the museum to not only preserve, catalog, and display its artifacts, but also to help return artifacts that, one way or another, ended up in other countries. The National Museum has come a long way in a couple of years and I hope it will become a great source of pride for the Iraqis.

VIP Visits

2009-04-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

President Obama visited Baghdad on his way home from Turkey. The original itinerary had him arriving in Baghdad in the late afternoon, calling on the Iraqi leaders in the Green Zone and visiting Embassy staff for a "meet-n-greet" before returning to Camp Victory to meet the troops. During the hours leading up to his arrival, everything was going smoothly until shortly after lunch when someone spotted an Arab press report announcing "President Obama in Iraq." All hell broke loose. We scrambled to get everyone up to the conference room and phone calls to lots of important people were placed. A variety of scenarios was considered: cancelling the trip altogether, cancelling the calls on the Iraqi leaders and only doing the airport and the Embassy, keeping the itinerary the same, or only doing Camp Victory. In the end, a brewing sandstorm made the decision easy - the President would land at the airport and meet the troops, but not come into the Green Zone. While the military scambled to accommodate a last-minute press conference and high-level meetings between the President and the Iraqis at Camp Victory, the Embassy scrambled to coordinate the transportation, escort and staging of no fewer than 5 Iraqi leaders (and their motorcades) to Camp Victory with virtually no notice. In the end, the President got his photo op with the troops and his face-to-face meetings with the leaders.

Embassy Baghdad receives Distinguished Visitor (DV) trips every month. This month alone we have three Congressional Delegations (CODELS). Unlike at most Embassies, where such a visit would shut down normal operations for weeks, these visits (with the exception of a presidential visit) rarely register more than a blip. That's mainly because we have a Legislative Affairs staff that coordinates the logistics of these trips. So the only extra work for me when a DV or CODEL comes to town is a little more paperwork.

CODEL itineraries usually include lunch with military constituents. I've never seen a member of Congress request to meet with constituent Foreign Service officers. Soldiers in fatigues make a better photo op than diplomats in suits.

Kudos to Representative Joe Wilson of South Carolina. When his CODEL arrived in the front office this week to meet with the Charge d'Affaires and the Commanding General, he broke away from the group to say hello and introduce himself to us lowly staffers and thank us for our service. That's never happened before.

Basra Transfer of Authority

2009-04-02T22:38:00.001-07:00

Earlier this week the Brits handed over control of the southern portion of Iraq to the Americans. I accompanied the Charge d'Affaires ("acting Ambassador") down to Basra for the transfer of authority ceremony. The Brits certainly know how to stage a ceremony. A bagpiper led the VIPs to their seats and a military band played and marched for our entertainment.

There were speeches by the British military, the U.S. military (General Odierno is speaking in the photo below), and Iraqi military. There were also benedictions by U.S. and British chaplains and a Muslim cleric. The U.S. raised their company flag, the Brits lowered theirs, and the band played all 3 national anthems (the Iraqi women sitting behind me sang their anthem proudly).

I bumped into a couple representataives from the Romanian army. General Tomescu is the deputy commander of one of the multi-national divisions. He was very excited to hear my "Buna ziua" greeting and we exchanged business cards.

A ride back to Baghdad on the C-130 (I miss the roomier C-17s!) and a helicopter ride from the airport to the Green Zone and I was back in the office by 4:30. Just another day in Iraq.

Jambo! Karibu Tanzania!

2009-03-21T08:09:00.000-07:00

I thought writing a blog entry about my trip to Tanzania would be easy, but it turns out that it's not. I wish I was a better writer because I don't think words, and even pictures, can convey what a great experience this was. Despite a number of headaches getting there, I arrived at Ndarakwai Ranch, where my safari began. The ranch is private land, so the animals that roam there are protected from poachers and predators.

From the back porch of my tent, I watched a huge tribe of baboons walk onto the property in the morning and walk back out at dusk. Monkeys played in the tree just outside my tent. The sounds of Africa at night are fascinating... until about 11:00 when it's time to use earplugs in order to get to sleep.

I spent 2 full days with a guide and we went out in a car and also on foot. There is a watering hole on the ranch that attracts the animals, especially during the dry season. But the real joy was exploring the property and finding elephants, zebras, giraffes and other animals all around us. Tracking a group of giraffes on foot was a very cool experience. Early March is the end of dry season so there isn't much flora to look at, but it's a great time of year to see the babies. All the animals I saw had at least one baby in the group.

The next part of my trip took me to Ngorongoro Crater. This is an amazing place. Amazing. I saw everything I had hoped to see and more. Elephants, zebras, gazelles, lions, hippos, flamingos, rhinos, and birds whose names I can't remember.

And if that wasn't enough, I also visited Lake Manyara National Park. The highlight there was the group of hippos resting themselves at the small pond. They reminded me of the sea lions at Pier 39 in San Francisco - big fat gray creatures lying on top of each other and occasionally barking at each other.

After my safari adventure, I spent a few days lying on the beach in Zanzibar. I only have one picture - the view from my back porch - because all I did was lie on the beach and read. Aside from a little annoying attention from a couple of locals, it was a very relaxing way to end my African adventure.

C-130 Ladies Room

2009-03-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

Because my arrival home has been delayed and I am unable to upload photos from my Africa trip, I thought I'd share a mini-adventure from Amman - Baghdad - Kuwait flight (bad weather diverted us to Kuwait for a couple days).

The flight was on a C-130, an Air Force cargo plane that was designed for transporting cargo and hardened soldiers; it was not designed for transporting spoiled diplomats who cried when the Department stopped providing upgrades to business class, and it was certainly not designed for women. As part of the introductory briefing on board, the airman explains that for men who have to... relieve themselves, there is a fold-out urinal along one of the walls. For women, they have... a bucket.

What was supposed to be a 90 minute flight turned into a 4 hour trip. Some of us ladies just couldn't hold it anymore, so someone requested that accommodations be made. The airman, bless his heart, said, "gimme 5 minutes." He assembled a makeshift ladies room that consisted of a bucket, a small toilet seat obtained from God-knows-where, a plastic bag, and a tarp. Tragically, I did not take a photo of the C-130 ladies room, so the best I can do to share the experience of going to the bathroom on a C-130 is to describe it in the following way:

Step 1: Carefully make your way up and over the cargo pallet in order to access the ladies room from the un-tarped side.

Step 2: Don't look too closely at what you're about to sit on.

Step 3: Try to get as steady a footing as you can between the cargo pallet and the wall, compensating for the 40 degree slant on which the ladies room toilet has been temporarily set.

Step 4: Do your business and pray to Jesus that the tarp protecting your modesty from the rest of the passengers doesn't fall down.

And that is how a lady goes to the bathroom on a C-130 while it circles Baghdad.

Madagascar Reflections

2009-03-03T06:41:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Madagascar a week ago to stay with a friend of mine who works at the Embassy in Antananarivo. Despite the ongoing threat of political protests, I explored the city a bit and enjoyed a few good meals. "Tana" is a confusing city to get around - narrow streets with no signs (not even to tell you that it's a one-way street) and a lot of pollution. I can't say I was sorry to get out of Tana and go into the countryside.

Our weekend road trip got off to a late start Saturday afternoon because my friend was obliged to hang around to see if the planned demonstration would turn violent. It didn't, so we hit the road and arrived in Ampefy in time to take a bottle of wine onto the hotel terrace and enjoy the sunset and a lightning show before having a nice dinner.

The next day we drove off-road to see if we could find the Chute de la lily waterfall. A group of kids accompanied us on the 10 minute walk, carrying baskets of volcanic rock souvenirs on their heads. I tried balancing a basket on my head as we walked along, which amused the local kids immensely. The rural villages are often just small mud and brink dwellings and the people live off the land. Pineapples, bananas, and other fruit I don't recognize are sold along the road just about everywhere.

The highlight of my trip to Madagascar was my visit to Andasibe and Vakona Forest Lodge. I arrived on Monday, just before lunch. The lodge is beautiful and there is amazing wildlife all around. The lodge has its own lemur island reserve. I have to say this was one of the most fun things I've done. The lemurs are well-accustomed to humans and eagerly approach when they see people coming (and smell the bananas). To be able to touch and feed them was incredible; and to see them close up and watch them leap from tree to tree was almost unreal. A canoe ride to the other islands allowed me to see other species of lemurs, the ring-tailed lemurs being the most entertaining.

After such an amazing experience, I wasn't ready to go back to my cottage, so I walked up the road for a while. Some kids saw me and yelled out, "Bon jour" and squealed with laughter when I responded, "Bon jour." English is only just now starting to be taught in school, so I wasn't able to communicate much with the locals. But their excitement at seeing me was enough. I got back to my cottage just as it started to rain, so I sat on the porch and enjoyed watching the birds and listening to the mysterious sounds of the forest. Sitting there doing absolutely nothing except enjoying where I was made me wonder how I was so lucky to be there.

The next day, I hired a guide to lead me through a nearby national park. Being the intrepid explorer that I am, I was well-prepared for an arduous 4 hour hike, but instead I was distracted every 30 seconds by a giant colorful butterfly or a camouflage gecko or a kingfisher or an unusual plant. We also saw 2 kinds of lemur, including the Indri. They are much harder to track in the wild than on Lemur Island and it's certainly harder to keep up with them stumbling along the forest floor while they are flying through the trees above. And they don't cooperate with people trying to take their photo. For this reason, I'm particularly proud of the photo I finally got; even though it's really not that extraordinary.

Sightseeing in the Green Zone

2009-02-14T21:01:00.000-08:00

Embassy Baghdad is a 7 day a week embassy. Even when we do get some down time, there aren't that many things to do. So when the rare occassion arose when I and a couple friends all had a free morning, we went for a drive around the Green Zone and hit a few of the "tourist" attractions.

The crossed swords is a must-do photo op. There is a pair of giant "Saddam hands" holding swords at either end of the parade grounds. At the base of the hands, helmets obtained from captured or killed Iranian soldiers during the Iran-Iraq war are embedded in the cement.

The parade grounds are also a staging area for joint U.S.-Iraqi military exercises. As we left the crossed swords, we passed by a group of Iraqi soldiers who were happy to pose for pictures with us. I've never seen a dozen camera phones appear out of nowhere so quickly. It was a lot of fun and, as a staff assistant, just about the most interaction I've had with Iraqis.

Next stop was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. A very large clam shell shaped monument, that, apparently, has a tomb somewhere beneath it. It was a pleasant change to be a tourist for a couple hours.

As we walked back to the car, one friend snapped us back to reality by reminding us to "check the car for sticky bombs." We didn't find any.

Mail Run

2009-01-21T08:39:00.000-08:00

Another sign that Embassy Baghdad is not like normal embassies is that the mail run between the Embassy and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs requires bullet-proof gear and a 3-car convoy. Today it was my turn to do the mail run.

I donned my flak jacket and helmet, got my instructions from the security agent in charge, and got into an armored suburban. Rule number one when travelling with a PSD (personal security detail) – never open or close a door, the PSD does that. This is a good thing because those doors are heavy!

It is a short drive to the check point and we barely drove into the red zone before we arrived at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. All three vehicles parked in front of the building and, remembering rule number one, I waited. A team of armed men got out of the other two vehicles, surrounded the vehicle I was in and did a quick survey of the environment before opening my door. Then they surrounded me as we walked into the building.

Once inside I took off my flak jacket and found my contact with whom I exchanged the mail (we have diplomatic notes for them, and they have diplomatic notes for us). While I was waiting, the Iraqi official started off by congratulating us on our new president and then going on a rant about President Bush. I have a feeling he was just testing me to see if he could get a reaction from me, but I kept my mouth shut.

This is the good part. After we exchanged the letters, he asked how someone would go about finding a marriageable American woman. I thought perhaps I didn’t hear him correctly, but then he said very plainly that he wanted an American wife. I said something vague like, “that’s not an easy thing to do,” disliking the turn the conversation had taken. Sure enough, he asked me for my business card. I didn’t have one with me. "Next time," he said. Sure.

I don't know if the PSD agents are trained in extracting unmarried female diplomats from unwanted marriage proposals.

Lunch at the Freedom Cafe

2009-01-14T19:49:00.000-08:00

There is a market/cafe just down the street from the new Embassy compound (NEC) called "Freedom." A few of us walked there for lunch. I had been there a couple times before, hoping to buy some items, like butter, that we can't get at the PX. There weren't many people there; others have told me that the customers were usually American Embassy officers desperate for a non-NEC meal.

This time was different. The lunchtime crowd was mostly Iraqis and nearly all the tables were full. We walked to a table in the back, getting the stares that a black man, two white guys, and two red-headed women could expect from a cafe full of working class Iraqi men (I did spot a woman at one table later on). We had a wonderful meal of lamb and several side dishes of potatoes, beans, and eggplant.

The market/cafe is owned by Christian Iraqis. I know this because 1) the first time I visited, my colleagues introduced the owner; and 2) on the back wall is a large picture of Jesus and his disciples at the last supper, the framed print accessorized with a shiny tinsel boa. While Christians may suffer harassment in other parts of Iraq, at least here they seem to be doing good business.

Sundown at the Palace

2008-12-31T21:12:00.000-08:00

December 31 was the last day the U.S. occupied the Republican Palace, where the Embassy has operated for the last several years. There was a nice ceremony to lower the American flag for the last time. On January 1, the Iraqis will have a flag-raising ceremony at the Palace. (Watch for a battle between the Prime Minister and the President to see who gets the Palace.)

The Marines lowered the flag and presented it to Ambassador Crocker. There had been some lively debate about whether to use the grimey flag that had been flying for a while ("it has character") or to use a new one ("it photographs better"). Grimey won.

The Ambassador gave a nice speech about the transition and the evolving relationship with Iraq. Then he presented the flag to a surprised General Perkins, who, years earlier as Colonel Perkins, played an important role in the first weeks of the war.

We'll officially dedicate the new U.S. Embassy soon.

In the Wings

2008-12-20T11:06:00.000-08:00

The recently signed agreement between the United States and the Government of Iraq has taken up a lot of the Embassy’s attention for many months now. What is commonly referred to as the Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA), actually evolved into 2 documents – the Security Agreement, which covers primarily military issues, and the Strategic Framework Agreement, which focuses on political and economic projects.

The lead negotiator for the U.S. was Ambassador David Satterfield. Whenever he would come to Baghdad, the only place in the front office where we could put him was at a small desk next to the scanner, which happened to be right next to me. I got to hear some fascinating conversations and at times got an almost insider look at how the negotiations were going. It was like watching a great play from stage left.

It was amusing to see this side of things and also to see what the press would report. There would be days when Ambassador Satterfield was clearly frustrated, either with the Iraqis or with the Americans. Then there would be days when he was very pleased with the day’s progress. I remember one day when he spent much of the time talking with his Iraqi counterpart on the phone and was very happy with how things were progressing. The next day I read U.S. press reports predicting the catastrophic failure of the agreement and that the negotiations were on the brink of collapse.

To be fair, some Iraqi politicians manipulated the press terribly for their own reasons. But it seemed like the press was a willing victim, happy to report as fact any crumb of information they could get without bothering to challenge the motivation of the person who provided it. I’m not trying to sound like a Pollyanna, there were some tough moments, but I think at some point everyone realized that not signing an agreement would be a disaster.

A lot of sweat went into these negotiations and I think my colleagues who worked so hard on it were proud of what they accomplished. Certainly this is the first agreement of this scope the U.S. has ever done. Too bad all the hard work was so quickly overshadowed by one childish act involving shoes. While many people will want to hail the journalist who insulted the President of the United States (like him or not, he is OUR president), his actions, unfortunately, reflected badly on Iraq. President Bush spent the rest of the evening trying to persuade Prime Minister Maliki not to commit hari kari out of embarrassment and to not expel all the journalists associated with that Egyptian newspaper. Take a moment to consider what the Arab reaction would be if an American journalist threw his shoes at PM Maliki during a speech in Washington D.C.

I don’t normally get into policy, but I thought this unique experience was worth bending my own rule. The agreement was passed by the Iraqi Parliament and signed, Ambassador Satterfield went home, and the work goes on.

Tea with the Mujahedeen e Khalq

2008-11-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

One of the sections in my portfolio is the Political-Military section, which covers subjects that have political and military (security) implications. All the cables and memos from the Pol-Mil section to the front office go through me, so I read a lot of stuff that I know very little about. Recently I was lucky enough to get a first-hand education about one of the more controversial topics Pol-Mil covers - the Mujahedeen e Khalq (aka People's Mujahadeen of Iran).

The MeK (or PMI) is a group of Iranians who left Iran about 20 years ago and established military-style training camps in Iraq (and other places) with the stated purpose of overthrowing the current Iranian regime. (See Wikipedia if you're interested in MeK and its history.) The U.S. and EU have designated the MeK a terrorist organization. Saddam Hussein was supportive of the MeK, but now the organization faces a dilemma in the new Iraq. The MeK turned over their weapons and signed a deal with the U.S. several years ago and have been living without incident at Camp Ashraf, where Coalition Forces provide security for the roughly 3000 MeK members.

A team from the Embassy flew to Camp Ashraf, joined by our military colleagues, to talk to the MeK about their status and their future after 2008, when the U.S. military will no longer have the authority to provide security. It's a very complicated situation and it was a fascinating meeting. (Understand that I spend most of my time chained to my desk, so a 3 hour meeting with a terrorist organization is exciting for me.)

The commander of the MeK is a woman. In fact, much of the leadership is female. I was the only woman on the U.S. side of the table. Like devout Muslims, the MeK men don't shake hands with unrelated women, so the MeK men didn't shake my hand. I had learned about this custom during my training in D.C., so I didn't embarass myself by sticking out my hand, but put my hand over my heart instead. As I was leaving, the commander made an effort to come over to me and shake my hand; perhaps she observed that none of the men shook my hand and didn't want me to feel left out.

Art Appreciation Day

2008-10-28T10:50:00.000-07:00

All of my complaining about never getting to leave the embassy finally paid off. A friend in the Cultural Affairs section invited me to an exhibit of female artists at the home of a member of parliment. It was my second excursion outside the International Zone and my first by car. I've never before arrived at an art show in armored vehicles with a full contingent of security agents (I think there were more of them than there were of us) while wearing body armor.

The parliamentarian who hosted the event greeted us warmly and guided us to the exhibit. Her yard had been transformed into an outdoor showcase of paintings, sculptures and ceramics. I was a bit surprised by the enthusiastic press coverage and kept futzing with my hair while studiously examing the artwork with approving nods.

There was one artist whose work I particularly admired. She said she had been painting since she was five years old and was currently studying art at school. I think she was pleased with my lavish praise of her work.

The organization that sponsored the event, the Women Artists Association, is only a few months old and this was their first exhibition. I was quite impressed with the quality and diversity of the art. It's nice to know that even in these tough times, art and creativity is encouraged and appreciated.

Mental Health, Baghdad Style

2008-10-21T03:46:00.000-07:00

There is another female staff assistant in the front office named Mary. I am fortunate that we get along very well and we think alike in a lot of ways. In fact, we will often email or IM each other the identical message at the same time, our thoughts crossing each other in cyberspace. Even though we only sit a few feet away from each other, we keep an Instant Message window open on our desktops to maintain a running commentary on the day's events.

Another favorite mental health activity is to find a table outside at the end of the day and have a venting session. The range of topics varies widely. This activity usually involves wine.

There is no other person in the world who better understands what I'm experiencing because our situations and outlook are similar. We have gotten each through some low points. I can't recall a time when my mental health was so dependent on another person.

Mary is currently on R&R in the States.

My mental health is suffering.

My descent into madness is mitigated somewhat by email and Facebook. Yesterday we even managed to have a chat session. It was almost like Mary was sitting just a few feet away from me.

Random Musings

2008-09-25T23:46:00.000-07:00

Armored vehicles, T-walls, checkpoints, helicopters flying overhead, and occasional duck & cover alarms don't even phase me after 2 months.

VIP visits barely register a blip among most of the embassy staff. Since I've been here, we've had 2 secretaries, some deputy and assistant secretaries, numerous congressional delegations, and more visits are planned. In a normal embassy, these kinds of visits would shut down normal operations. Here, it's just another day in the IZ.

Simple pleasures are appreciated. A homemade banner to celebrate someone's birthday, a fresh egg, eating dinner outside now that it drops below 90 at night. Anything that breaks up the monotony.

I'm continuously amazed by the caliber of people here. Sure, there are a few stinkers. But there are some really smart people doing really good work. When all of this is over, nobody can say we didn't try.

The Petraeus Show

2008-09-12T07:07:00.000-07:00

In less than a week, General Petraeus will turn over control of the multi-national forces in Iraq to General Odierno. A colleague suggested that, before General Petraeus departs, I should attend one of his battlefield update assessments. The update is a daily meeting that covers everything from casualties and status of operations, to electricty output and media coverage.

Standing unobtrusively off to the side of the operations room where embassy personnel connect via video teleconference screens to the base camp where GEN Petraeus runs the meeting, I watched as each person briefed the general. Occasionally he would ask a question, offer a comment or congratulate them for a job well done. Even though I read the battlefield update materials every day, it was fascinating to see it in person. It was a great education of what our military is achieving every single day. I was also impressed with the precision and conciseness with which the meeting was run. Not like a typical State Department meeting!

On another topic, an embassy employee passed along a message he received from a young Iraqi:

One thing more, please thank on behalf of me and many young Iraqis for the sacrifices that you Americans have done for us. A lot of people in Iraq are afraid to say it in public but deep in our hearts we well never forget the brave men and women's who wanted to build a new free and democratic Iraq. God bless America :)

That was nice to read.

Blurry Days of Baghdad

2008-09-05T06:11:00.000-07:00

The Arab work week is Sunday through Thursday. That leaves Friday and Saturday for the weekend. To confuse things further, we celebrate Monday holidays on Sunday. So last weekend was Labor Day and, theoretically, the embassy was closed for business on Sunday. But I still had to go in to the office (holiday pay!). The point of all this is that people here never know what day of the week it is.

The job of staff assistant is interesting in a lot of ways, but it can also be frustrating. Everything that happens in the embassy at some point goes through the front office. And just about everything that goes through the front office goes through the staff assistants. It's a great education about what's going on. The downside is that it's hard to predict how each day will go. Most of what we do is unscheduled. So we never know when the end of the work day will be until the work is done.

Working long hours isn't so bad because there really isn't that much else to do. There's the gym. There's reading. And, finally, there's AFN - the television programming the military provides. I've been here just over a month now and I'm starting to meet people and get out a bit more.

I finally had some good news this week when the complications surrounding the assignment of my next post were settled. I accepted a handshake offer to be the Information Officer in Kathmandu, Nepal. When I leave Baghdad next summer, I'll have a year of training in D.C. (including 10 months of Nepali language training) and will arrive in Nepal the summer of 2010. Apart from my dad's frustration at my inability to work in a country that has a decent golf course, I'm very pleased with this assignment. The Information Officer handles press relations, the ambassador's media events, writing remarks/press releases, etc.

In the meantime, the blurry days of Baghdad continue to fly by and sometimes it's hard to tell one day from the other. I'm sure I'll be very excited to take my first R&R break in November.

Field Trip!

2008-08-22T23:39:00.000-07:00

Mom Alert!!! – Mom and Marilyn will probably want to skip this blog entry. Click here instead to revisit a nice post from the past.

This week I got to benefit from one of the perks of working in the front office. One of Ambassador Crocker’s Special Advisors had an open seat in a helicopter he was taking to visit a port of entry on the Iraqi border with Iran. He asked if I would be interested in tagging along. Um, yeah.

So I donned my PPE (personal protective equipment) and we headed out to catch our ride on a Blackhawk helicopter. There were 2 Blackhawks, the first one carried the “important” principals, the second one carried me and another traveler. Flying above Iraq in a Blackhawk surrounded by 5 well-formed, well-armed soldiers… at the risk of sounding like Paris Hilton, that’s hot!

In the background is the Blackhawk, right behind me is the Hummer-tank vehicle.

From the landing zone, we traveled to the border crossing in a vehicle that I can only describe as a cross between a Hummer and a tank. Once we reached the port of entry, we were allowed to take off our PPE and we took a tour of the facility. There’s a lot of activity there. Some 200-300 people cross every day, mostly Iranian religious pilgrims visiting holy sites in Iraq. There are also dozens of trucks and oil tankers that pass through every day. The American and Iraqi soldiers do a great job managing so much in-processing and out-processing of people and vehicles.

At one point, we were standing at the small gate that divides Iraq and Iran. I never imagined myself standing at a border crossing into Iran. The atmosphere wasn’t as tense as you would think. The soldiers tell us that their relationship with the Iranian soldiers is cordial. We didn’t have any interactions with the Iranian soldiers, though.

The covered areas are the pedestrian in and out-processing lines;

the oil tankers are waiting to go through; beyond is the Iraqi desert.

It was an interesting trip and quite an adventure.

It's Like Wonderland, But With Guns

2008-08-12T07:57:00.000-07:00

It’s surprising how quickly one can adjust to a surreal environment. Perhaps it’s the surrealness (I just created that word) that actually makes it easier to adjust. If the environment is so far beyond “normal,” then your mind won’t even try to recognize it as normal. Your brain tells you, “You’re in Wonderland, so just deal with it.”

The embassy in Baghdad is unlike any other mission in the world. As one person described it – it’s the largest, most complicated inter-agency beast ever devised by mankind. It’s difficult to describe the experience in a way that can be grasped by someone who isn’t here. Let’s start with the Palace. Yes, the embassy currently resides in one of Saddam’s former palaces. It takes me anywhere from 5-10 minutes to walk from one end to the other. I’ve only gotten lost once.

Security here is unlike at any other mission. Not only do we have a huge staff of Foreign Service security agents, there is a large number of contactors. I would estimate that half of the people under “chief of mission” authority are security folks. Add to that the large number of uniformed military wandering the Palace and the surrounding compound. To put it simply, there are a lot of people with guns.

The hours are long, but not insane. This is not really a bad thing because I’m still learning what people do when they’re not working. I bounce back and forth between the compound (where we live and will eventually work) and the Palace. This weekend I may wander across the street to a local market and also accompany a colleague to the rug store. I may also go over to one of the pools. The food is… decent. I won’t starve here, but I won’t get much culinary delight either. We have kitchens in our apartments, but there’s no place to buy groceries (hence my trip across the street to the local market).

The apartments are comfortable. To accommodate a larger-than-planned number of residents, they converted one-bedroom apartments into two-bedroom apartments by turning the living room into a second bedroom. So we have our own bedroom and share a kitchen & bathroom. There’s a gym at the compound that I go to whenever I can. Overall, the daily routine is fairly monotonous. The movie “Groundhog Day” is a common reference among employees.

Working in the front office will be a great learning experience. I can already tell that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I don’t regret for a second my decision to come here. My portfolio includes the Political-Military section, the Public Affairs section, Hostage Affairs and a whole lot of acronyms I couldn’t begin to explain. That probably sounds more impressive than it is. I move paper back and forth. But I get to read a lot of interesting things.

With all the hoopla last year about the State Department possibly “forcing” diplomats to serve here, it’s surprising how many people here have either extended their tours or have returned for a second tour. Even with all the frustrations, inconveniences and dangers, there are a lot of people who love what they do and are very committed. I’m proud to be counted among them.

Finally in the International Zone

2008-08-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

Well the journey from D.C. to the International Zone (aka "Green Zone") took longer than expected, but I arrived safely Thursday evening. I had an overnight flight from D.C. to Paris, then arrived in Amman, Jordan the following night... without my luggage, which decided to stay in Paris for a while. The next day, I gathered with a bunch of other diplomat types at the Amman airport, only to learn that a sandstorm in Baghdad cancelled the military flight that day, forcing a 4-day delay in Amman. I did a little sightseeing in Amman, namely the Dead Sea and the baptism site at the Jordan River. But mostly I tried to take it easy and enjoy the beautiful Amman weather.

The military flight from Amman to Baghdad Airport was on a C17 or was it a C130? I don't know the difference. A big cargo plane. Very smooth and uneventful. There aren't any windows so you can't see anything. As I walked down the ramp after we landed, the blast of hot air almost knocked me over. I think it was at least 115 degrees when we arrived. I picked up my flak jacket and helmet. The precise weight of the jacket, according to informed security sources, is "over 20 pounds." Wearing the flak jacket and the helmet that's one size too big made carrying my baggage (it caught up with me in Amman) in the heat a struggle (but probably quite entertaining for onlookers). I had a brief wait at the Baghdad airport before a few of us crammed into a helicopter for a quick ride to the International Zone. Thus was my arrival to the IZ - hot, covered in dust and sweat, hair all over the place, wearing 20+ pounds of bullet-proof gear and carrying a duffle bag and backpack. A diplomat's life is very glamorous!

I'm still figuring out how things operate here. There's a lot of in-processing paperwork and procedures I still haven't finished. But I'm adjusting quickly to life here. I can even stand the heat if I don't have to be walking around outside for more than 15 minutes at a time. My biggest accomplishment is finding my way from the shuttle stop to my desk at the complete opposite side of the Palace without getting lost (the embassy offices are still in the Palace until we move into the new compound). This is unlike any other embassy in the world. Just the number of people here is astounding - most of them carry weapons. Lots of military and security.
I feel quite safe so far. Some colleagues took me on a driving tour of Baghdad the other day and I learned what are safe areas and what areas to avoid. The DCM staff (that's what I am) has access to 2 cars, which I didn't know. So I can actually drive somewhere in the IZ if I need to. I have a feeling I'll use the motorpool and their driver instead. It's strange to see the reaction to the Duck & Cover alarm here as opposed to in Bucharest. People take alarms very seriously here, if you're not under hard cover when it sounds, you drop what you're doing and run like crazy to the nearest bunker. Don't bother asking me specifics about the alarms or incoming fire, I can't answer. Like I said, I feel quite safe so far.

I'll write more about my job and daily life at a later date. Up until today, most of my time has been spent on administrative stuff and just getting acquainted with the sections I'll be working with. But I can tell you already that the hours are long!

It feels great to finally be here. I know it will be an exciting adventure. Stay tuned!

Not Another PowerPoint Presentation!!!

2008-07-17T18:27:00.000-07:00

I have been in training now for almost 2 months. With the exception of Crash & Bang (see previous post), all of the classes have been intensely jam-packed full of information. That means they cram a lot into a short period. The fact that 2 of my courses were shortened because of holidays didn’t make things easier. A week to learn everything about Iraq, 2 weeks to learn about Political/Economics tradecraft, 2 weeks to study the Near East & North Africa region, and this week I’m learning all about the PRTs in Iraq (provincial reconstruction teams). Next week I study Islam in Iraq.

I can’t prove it, but I suspect that Congress must have passed a law that all government-sponsored training must include PowerPoint presentations. Boring, text-heavy PowerPoint presentations. If I ever have trouble falling asleep in Baghdad, I’ll simply open the PPT file on funding sources for USAID development programs. Zzz.

The other common theme through all of the training is the absurd number of acronyms I’m expected to know. Learning all the State Department acronyms is bad enough, but going to Baghdad means I have to learn the acronyms of several other departments and agencies. And those military folks, bless their hearts, have a cult-like obsession with their acronyms. We received an acronym glossary in class today, it was 4 pages long… double-sided!

Crash Bang Boom

2008-06-29T15:33:00.000-07:00

All foreign service officers who go to a high-risk post are required to take a week-long class affectionately known as "Crash & Bang." The course includes fairly extensive medical training and learning how to detect surveillance (bad guys watching us). But the most popular parts of the course are the firearms training, evasive driving training, and explosives training.

The firearms instructors are mostly former Marines who know a lot about guns. We learned how to operate 2 kinds of pistols and 2 kinds of rifles. These guns were not designed for my tiny girly hands. If I'm ever in a situation where I have to quickly pull back the slidey thingamabob in order to shoot a pistol, I'm in trouble. My aim, however, is fantastic!

The evasive driving training was a lot of fun. I must admit that it took a couple laps around the course to get rid of my "driving to the mall" mentality and let my inner speed demon take over. We learned how to break while turning, how to control a spinout, how to go backwards fast (not my strongest skill) and turn around, how to drive from the passenger seat, and how to ram another car (both forwards and backwards!). All of this training culminates in simulations meant to test our abilities if confronted with blockades, gun-wielding terrorists, or roadside bombs. I can proudly say that I did not flinch when the instructors set off the big boom at the last curve.

Finally, we learned a little bit about explosives. Did you know that some detonation cord is so wickedly flammable, that if you laid it out from L.A. to N.Y. it would take only 10 minutes for the ignition to travel across the country? The instructors demonstrated different kinds of explosives, although I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do with this knowledge.

The training definitely brought home the sobering reality that I'm going to a war zone. A few weeks ago I was describing the Crash & Bang class to my mother, who asked why I, who was not permitted to have a car or drive in Iraq, would need to take a driving class. This was one of those moments where I knew she wouldn't like the answer. Chances are I'll never have to use any of this training, but they teach us these things in case the worse happens.

80s Music Observations

2008-06-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

Forgive the digression to a completely random topic. Last night I went to see an 80s music cover band with some friends. The place was packed and I hadn't seen such obscene hairstyles in 20 years. Unfortunately, all of my legwarmers and headbands are in storage, so I was sans costume. In addition to the live music, they also showed videos on a giant screen on stage. It was a lot of fun and this morning, as I wait for my hearing to return and my feet to stop aching, some observations about 80s music started to form in my head.

1. 80s music was not this fun the first time around. Maybe nostalgia enhances the experience because I don't remember getting so excited about "Walk Like an Egyptian."

2. 80s music videos don't make any sense.

3. When the video for Wham!'s "Wake Me Up" first came out, how did we not know that George Michael is gay?

4. 80s music is the best dance music, period. 80s dance moves, however, don't stand the test of time quite as well.

5. Many 80s music lyrics are unintelligible. Can anyone recite any of the lyrics (not counting the chorus) of "Come on Eileen"? But it's a fun song nonetheless.

Who's Lecturing Who?

2008-06-10T17:28:00.000-07:00

I've noticed an annoying trend in too many of my classes recently. Guest speakers will give presentations on their areas of expertise, but the bulk of the lecture will consist of the speaker asking us questions. This bugs me. A lot. A presenter on public speaking opened her remarks by asking, "How important do you think public speaking will be in your foreign service career?" Duh. Another speaker began a lecture on a new Internet tool by asking us, "What is a cable?"

Perhaps a new class of FSI speakers have been taught that in order to reach the iPod generation, they have to engage us rather than inform us. And so they ask us stupid questions and try to coax the correct answer out of us. "What are some of the ways you will be able to use this new Internet site?" Bueller? Bueller? I wanted to raise my hand and say, "We were hoping you could tell us."

I know there are many people who despise being lectured at as much as I despise being asked asinine questions. But a speaker is asked to speak on a certain topic presumably because that person knows more about it than we do. If he doesn't, he shouldn't be standing in the front of the room.

That's the end of my lecture. Class dismissed.

Week 1 - Information Overload

2008-05-31T09:17:00.001-07:00

I'm back in D.C. and just finished my first week of training. My first course was an Iraq Area Studies class, which covered everything from an overview of Iraqi history and current events, Iraqi language and culture, life at the embassy, administrative tasks unique to serving in Baghdad, and security. The information we learned was very broad and not very deep. In other words, I learned just enough to realize I don't know anything. That's not to say that this week wasn't interesting and helpful. But, trying to cover the complexities of Sunni-Shi'a conflict, Shi'a-Shi'a conflict, Iraqi Kurds vs. Iranian Kurds, tribal relationships, not to mention Iran, in the space of a few hours is tough.

The diverse reading materials included sections on "Building Cultural Competency," "Factions in Iraq," "Counterinsurgency Doctrine," "Managing Stress in High Threat Environments," and "Ambush Awareness." It was an intense crash course in understanding Iraq.

Strangely, the most stressful part was not the information overload on current events in Iraq or even the security issues we're facing, but the administrative stuff. There is an overwhelming amount of checklists and guidelines and requirements that need to be fulfilled before you ever get on the plane. A lot of this is normal stuff anyone does to prepare for an overseas assignment - arranging your pack-out and flight, making sure your medical clearance is up to date, etc. But serving in Iraq adds another page to a person's To Do list - arranging the military flight into Baghdad, getting the CAC badge from the Pentagon, making sure my medical insurance covers me in a war zone...

Next week I start the Political/Economic Tradecraft class, which should be less taxing.

Homeless on Home Leave

2008-04-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

I've been on home leave for a week now. But I still can't seem to relax and unwind. What does that say about me? Maybe my subconscious mind is desperately trying to make lists of things to do. But what is there to do when you're on home leave? Eat sushi. Check. Go to the mall. Check (twice). Read. Check. Attend nephew's little league baseball game. Check. Practice Arabic. Check. Catch up on new episodes of Lost. Check. Make plans with friends. Check.

I think part of the mental confusion has to do with being homeless. The innocent question, "where are you from?" leaves me tongue-tied. "I'm formerly from the Bay Area." "My family lives in Los Angeles." "I spent the last 2 years living in Bucharest." Any of these responses is accurate, but none adequately describes my unusual situation. I'm a homebody without a home.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to be back in America (and to be able to eat an In-n-Out cheeseburger whenever the urge strikes). But along with the excitement I feel of being back in the States, there's an odd, indefinable sensation. It's almost like I'm not even a guest in my hometown, but I'm merely an observer.

Perhaps I'm being too philosophical about this. The "odd sensation" is probably indigestion and will pass just as soon as my body gets used to the suburban Los Angeles tap water.

Down Time

2008-04-11T22:53:00.000-07:00

My apartment is empty. Seriously, I can hear the echo of the "clickity click" while I'm typing this. The term "pack out" sends chills through the soul of many foreign service officers; the only thing that frightens us more is "check out."

The packers came Tuesday and I have to say it was the smoothest packing experience I've had in the FS (I know this is only my first post, but I've had more than the average number of moves for a junior officer). The toughest part was choosing which clothes to take with me on the plane to California, which stuff to send in UAB (that's unaccompanied air baggage for the uninformed) to meet me in D.C., and which stuff to put into storage until God-knows-when.

Then there was check out. I think they should include a "check out" exercise as part of the Foreign Service oral exam. This would weed out the weak. Give each examinee the adminsitrave check out check list and see if they can successfully obtain all the required signatures in order to receive their plane ticket from the Management Officer. Examinees who break into tears at the feet of the GSO are automatically disqualified. Check out is just like a scavenger hunt, only not as fun.

But in the end (literally, 5:00 on Friday afternoon) I got my plane ticket. So now I'm sitting in my empty apartment, killing time. I'm living out of the lovely Welcome Kit (the t.v. they gave me doesn't work) counting the hours until I get on my flight. See you on the flip side!

Post-Summit Reflections

2008-04-04T23:51:00.000-07:00

The NATO Summit in Bucharest ended yesterday. Last night is the first good night's sleep I've had in over a week. My role was site officer at the airport in Constanta where President Bush met Romanian President Basescu at his seaside villa in Neptun (no, that's not a code name, it's the actual name of the resort town where the presidential compound is located). The presidents would arrive at the airport separately by plane, and after a welcome ceremony they would get into their respective motorcades and drive to the villa. There, they would have a bilateral meeting with staff, a working lunch, then the two presidents would take a short stroll before holding a press conference. Both motorcades would return to the airport, the presidents would pose with Romanian and American troops stationed there, then depart to Bucharest. Sounds relatively simple, doesn't it?

President Bush would be in Constanta/Neptun for roughly 4 hours. But the preparations for this brief trip began over a week in advance. Without going in to details, White House advance teams had to coordinate every single step with our Secret Service, Romanian protective services, and President Basescu's protocol people. There were numerous walk-thrus at the villa and at the airport. (Above, setting up the press conference site at the villa the day before the event, it was cold and rainy!)

Part of my job was to help coordinate the welcome ceremony at the airport. Upon arrival of Air Force One, I also had to escort staff and support personnel to the correct vehicles in the motorcade. These folks know the drill, so that happended quickly. So I had enough time to position myself at the end of the red carpet and watch the welcome ceremony proceed pretty much according to plan.

After the 2 motorcades departed the airport for the villa, I handed out gifts to the offical greeters. The prefect of Constanta was so excited about his White House cufflinks. I saw him on the news later that night showing them off to a reporter.

With a couple of hours to kill, I hung out at the airport (note: standing on a cement tarmac in heels for several hours will *destroy* your feet). A friend of mine who is the Air Force attache at the embassy called me and hooked me up with the co-pilot of Air Force One, who gave me a private tour! Very, very cool. The various areas of the plane are very comfortable and spatious (for an airplane), but not luxurious. It's not like traveling on the QE2. With presidential M&Ms and Air Force One matchbooks in hand, it was time to grab some lunch and get ready for the president's return from the villa and departure to Bucharest.

The departure plan was simplier than the arrival ceremony. All I had to do was position the honor guard along the red carpet and arrange the Romanian and American troops alongside the plane for the photo with the 2 presidents. Who knew that my high school job as a photographer at JC Penney's portrait studio would be helpful in my foreign service career! The presidents posed with the troops, chatted a bit, then boarded their respective planes and left. Piece of cake.

At times it seemed silly that so many people were spending so much time and energy to prepare for such a brief visit. Embassy staff, White House advance teams, communication technicians, and secret service agents all started arriving in Neptun a week in advance. But the reality is that the president needs to be able to run the country from wherever he is at any given moment. And his every move and the movements of those around him (i.e. the press) also need to be carefully choreographed and staged. It was an eye-opening experience. We were fortunate that the teams we worked with were very professional and competent. It was a good group of people.

Back in Bucharest the following day, I had foolishly agreed to work the night shift in the Control Room at the Marriott Hotel (where the U.S. delegation was staying). It was a little surprising how much activity there was at 2:30 in the morning. But things died down after 3:00. That morning was the embassy "meet-n-greet," where the president and Secretaries Rice & Gates were introduced to the embassy staff and took a few pictures. Having boldly claimed a spot up front, I got to shake their hands and say hello.

Overall, it was quite an experience. And a great way to end my assignment in Bucharest. Now that the Summit is over, I can focus on packing and checking out. My departure date is April 14 and I cannot wait to get home!

NATO Summit Prep

2008-03-13T12:09:00.000-07:00

How many people does it take to prepare for a visit by the President, the First Lady, and the Secretaries of State & Defense? Apparently, a trillion. And to do this while avoiding the toes of the other 50 countries who have delegations coming to the NATO Summit in Bucharest the first week of April requires a great deal of diplomacy.

Fortunately for me, I have been given a fairly small task as site officer for one piece of the visit. Forgive the vagueness, I promise to write a more interesting and detailed post when the Summit is over. For now, I'm learning all kinds of fascinating information related to a presidential visit, including a whole new batch of tedious acronyms. And I learned that the different kinds of podiums that travel with the president (I've discovered 3 so far) each have their own code name. The standard podium is nicknamed "Blue Goose."

I've also learned how much the media love to speculate and how wrong they can be. It's amusing to read about all the "alleged" unofficial activities that President Bush will undertake while in Bucharest.

Over the next few weeks we'll welcome a gazillion Secret Service and Diplomatic Security agents, White House advance teams, military personnel, and young interns eager to demonstrate their importance. I'll attend a lot of meetings and spend a good deal of time living out of a suitcase. Thousands of man-hours go into a visit of this magnitude, not to mention millions of dollars. I hope it's worth it. Or, at least, I hope I can get a tour of Air Force One.

Cocktail Diplomacy

2008-02-28T09:46:00.000-08:00

Diplomats have long lived with the image of doing nothing but going to cocktail parties and living the high life. I'll concede that this reputation is somewhat deserved, but I'll also say that a lot of interesting things can happen at cocktail parties. You can learn a lot just by observing who's there and who isn't, who is talking to whom, and what this person is saying about that person. It's kinda like a junior high school dance.

I attended the Kuwait National Day and the Bulgaria National Day celebrations this week. Lots of people in military uniforms or national costumes (I wonder if I should wear a cowboy hat to the next reception). An acquaintance from a more liberal Arab country was trying to sample some Bulgarian wine while hiding from the diplomats from stricter Muslim countries who kept strolling nearby. It was interesting to listen to a diplomat from the United Arab Emirates comment on his perception of human rights in Romania. But the most tantalizing tidbit was watching a high-ranking diplomat from an EU country firmly, but politely, express his displeasure to the Serbian ambassador about the inadequate security provided to Western embassies in Belgrade during the recent Kosovo riots.

So you see, important diplomacy can take place over stuffed mushrooms and brie.

Would you like fries with your visa?

2008-02-19T11:04:00.000-08:00

After a 4 month hiatus doing immigrant visas, I am back in the non-immigrant visa (NIV) saddle. The best part of doing immigrant visas is the slower pace. The emphasis with NIVs is on volume and speed. Get 'em in, get 'em out, kinda like a fast food restaurant. In Bucharest, this means each officer does at least 80 interviews by lunchtime (1:00). Compared to some other consulates, that may not sound like a lot. But visa mills tend to have more slam dunk cases - either clearly issuable or clearly not. In Bucharest, the vast majority of our cases aren't black and white and require some digging. The fast pace of NIV work has a few consequences. One, by the time I get to the cafeteria, I'm incapable of making another decision (the girl who works at the register usually ends up deciding what I will have for lunch). Two, it is mentally draining. Doing hundreds of interviews every week for 2 years turns your brain to mush. Three, I have to wonder if making important decisions in a matter of seconds will rub off on other areas of my life. Will I start making significant life-changing decisions based solely on a gut feeling or a perceived micro-expression on the face of friend?

The slower pace of IVs is not the only thing I enjoyed. In most cases, you issue the visa. Which means you make people happy. Sure, there are the stinker cases that you don't want to issue, but you just hold your nose and do it. I particularly enjoyed giving an immigrant visa to a young man whose entire family had immigrated to the United States, but because he was over 21 at the time, he was too old to be considered a dependent. So after waiting patiently for 7 years he was finally able to join his family in America. He was such a nice guy and had no bitterness at all about being separated from his family. I wished I could have made the moment special for him, like dropping balloons from the ceiling or hiring a marching band to play the national anthem. Instead, he just smiled, thanked me, and off he went.

Arabic is Hard

2008-02-03T01:18:00.000-08:00

When I first received notification that my next assignment is Baghdad, I immediately started reading as much as I could about the embassy, the job, the country, etc. Although I'm not required to learn Arabic, I enrolled in a distance learning course so I could study the languge during my free time. I worried a little that learning a foreign language while still in Bucharest might interfere with my Romanian language abilities. Ha! After reviewing the Arabic alphabet for the last 2 weeks, there is no danger of my brain suddenly swelling with Arabic proficiency at the expense of my Romanian skills. Arabic is hard. If it was just a matter of learning a different script, I think I could handle that with a lot of studying; although, having 4 variations of a character depending on where in the word the character is located does seem like overkill. But the real challenge is the pronounciation. Some of these sounds just cannot be made by a mouth that was born and raised in suburban America.

Besides taking Arabic lessons, I've also started making other preparations for my departure. Being the plan-ahead perfectionist that I am (two terrible qualities to have as a foreign service officer), I have taken the initiative to start organizing my departure from Bucharest and my training schedule in Washington D.C. To be precise, I have taken the initiative several times now, because the training program for Iraq-bound officers keeps changing. Almost hourly. You would think that after 2+ years in the Foreign Service I would remember that planning ahead is futile and will only get me in trouble. A good friend recently expressed her frustration about planning her departure from Post as "barely contained rage yoked to an apparently misplaced desire for reasonableness."

But it will all work out in the end. And I have a big bottle of Migraine Strength Exedrin to get me through. AlHamdu lillh!

A Serious Case of Foreign Service Senioritis

2008-01-13T01:25:00.000-08:00

There's a common phenomenon among foreign service officers serving overseas. It's akin to what you might remember from high school - the senioritis that sets in the last few weeks before graduation. You know that each day brings you closer to your departure. And in the case of the foreign service, each day brings you closer to your next assignment.

For me, knowing that I have less than 4 months left in Bucharest has made it difficult to get really invested in my work. That's not to say that I'm slacking, it's just hard to get motivated. I've already started preparing for my next assignment in Baghdad. After reading Iraq-related cables and studying the Arabic alphabet in my spare time, visa interviews just don't hold much excitement. Maybe the NATO Summit that will take place in Bucharest in April will spice things up a bit.

Another contributing factor is the harsh winter we're having in Bucharest. I've never been overly impressed with Bucharest in the first place, but the cold weather and snow just adds to the general boredom I feel. My only salvation is that I joined a gym that's only a 5 minute walk from my apartment, but even that can require a great deal of motivation to bundle up and walk out the door.

So, even though I still have nearly 4 months left here, I'm already looking forward to getting back to the States. Of course I'm excited to go home to California in May for home leave, but I'm surprised at how excited I am to go back to D.C. I haven't quite figured out why. Maybe because many of my A100 friends are starting to trickle back to D.C. and it will be fun to hang out with them again (after 2 years of being scattered around the world). Maybe it's because life is a lot more "normal" and simple when I'm in training.

Hooray for the USA

2008-01-02T05:13:00.000-08:00

I’ve lived in Romania for almost two years now. During that time I’ve realized what I really miss about America. So here’s a list of I appreciate most about life in America.

Breakfast. I’m sorry, but a slice of ham, a piece of cheese and a tomato is NOT breakfast, it’s a sandwich. The next phase of American Cultural Imperialism should include the exportation of IHOP restaurants.

Variety. Whatever your particular taste is, you can find it in America. Whether it’s music, t.v. shows, clothes, furniture, food, etc. There are a ton of choices.

Convenience. It’s so easy to do things in America. Going to the grocery store, buying stamps online, paying your taxes through the mail. These are things I used to take for granted, but now I realize how unique a convenient lifestyle is.

Good service. Anyone who’s ever been to a restaurant in Eastern Europe will understand this one.

Shopping. As good as I’ve gotten at online shopping, it’s not the same thing. I love to walk into a big, clean, pretty mall and spend an afternoon wandering in stores, looking at stuff I don’t really need and trying on clothes. Don’t discount the power of retail therapy.

American television. Okay, I used to be a critic of the crap that’s broadcasted in the U.S. But after two years of watching the slim pickings of exported U.S. television shows, I miss watching Friends and Seinfeld reruns while eating dinner.

Softball. I miss the weekly games, even on the really cold nights. And hanging out at Moylan’s afterwards.

Needless to say, I’m really looking forward to home leave in May and training in D.C. in the summer.

United Airlines Crushed My Christmas Spirit

2007-12-15T00:38:00.000-08:00

I guess a blog is a great place to vent about something that, in the grand scheme of things, is not that terrible, but frustrating nonetheless. I have always despised incompetence, especially when it makes my life more difficult. This post is mostly for my own benefit, to rail against corporate incompetence. I don't expect anyone to find this an interesting read.

Back in September I made reservations to fly home to Los Angeles for Christmas. I had enough miles to upgrade to business class for the Munich-LAX legs of the trip. For the privilege of redeeming my Mileage Plus miles, United forced me to buy the "upgradable" fare, about $1000 more than the regular fare. The entire interaction took about an hour on the phone, much of that time was spent waiting for the United agent to submit the upgrade request to their partner, Lufthansa.

A few days ago I called United just to make sure everything is okay. The agent told me, in a strong Indian accent, that, unfortunately, the upgrade request was never submitted to Lufthansa. Okay, I said, so submit it now. Well, she replied, it's too late to submit a request to Lufthansa this close to the departure date. So what is United going to do to fix this mistake, I asked as pleasantly as I could manage. The agent offered me a $150 travel voucher to use toward a future United flight. I laughed. So I'll be flying home in coach, having paid way more for the ticket than anyone else in coach paid. (In my anger, I submitted a complaint to the Better Business Bureau. That'll show 'em!)

I imagine United managers sitting in a dark, windowless room plotting ways to bring destruction and soul-stealing evil into the world. I can only take a small bit of comfort in knowing that in the next year and a half, the State Department will spend at least $15,000 - $20,000 on my travel (flying me back to LA in May - biz class, from LA to DC, from DC to Baghdad - biz class, 2 round trips from Baghdad to LA - biz class, and finally back to LA - biz class). Not one dime of that will go to United.

I spent most of this morning registering for frequent flier programs for 5 different airlines. Hell hath no fury like a woman cheated out of business class!