Ups, Downs, Itchies

Since my last post, I've gone on an island vacation and had a very even-keeled week of work, each with its attendant ups and downs. And lots and lots of itchiness...

So where'd I go? 

Jacques and I headed south-west early Monday morning for a five and half hour drive, navigating one and two lane roads with an inordinate number of trucks going both ways. There was a lot of holding of breath and passing into oncoming traffic. Luckily, animals and pedestrians weren't added obstacles. You may ask, what was my hurry? Well, if I hit 60mph more than once or twice, I'd be surprised; and most often my speed was 40mph or less. 

Jacques handled the drive much more calmly than me

At last, though, we made it to Sihanoukville and the port there. I met up with my friend and colleague L and her family, and we searched for the ferry that was to take us to our island paradise. Oddly, since we were staying at the same place on the island and had called the same ferry company in advance, and despite the fact they told us there was only one ferry to our island, we were on different boats. Mine left a little earlier than L's, so off I went with Jacques, a backpack, a small duffle of my clothing, and two tote bags (one for Jacques' stuff, one for miscellaneous items I thought of last minute). 

As we went to board the boat, which had a maximum capacity of around twenty people, it surprised me to see there were TWO other dogs going on the same ferry. What the...?! Those of you who know Jacques know what happened then: he started growling and snarling, a Chinese woman behind me began to scream, and I had to run away from the boarding area, leaving my bags behind. Once Jacques calmed down, we returned to find that my bags were the only things not loaded, and just one seat open in a two-facing-two nook. I waved at the boat company people to take my bags and the shook their heads: "No room! You take!"

Have you ever tried being the huge Western woman with five bags and a dog everyone's terrified of, squeezing down the aisle of a little ferry crammed with people, dogs, and more luggage than you could shake a stick at? No? Well, don't. I did end up being the shrill one, practically throwing my bags and one of the boat company guys since there was no way my sliver of bench was gonna fit me and all my stuff. 

It was Jacques' first boat ride and I had no idea how he'd do. In the few tuktuk rides he's taken he's tried to jump out, but he hates swimming, so it really was a crapshoot. And, he got to be crammed next to peoples' legs. Sometimes Jacques is less-than-friendly to people, especially when they reach down to pet him. 

It was a long boat ride. As you can see, though, Jacques was far less tense than me:

Maybe an hour later, we were deposited on a long pier at our island paradise, Koh Rong. You know the stereotype: gorgeous aquamarine waters, white powdery sand beach, bungalows, palm trees, kayaks and paddle boats dotting the shoreline. On side of the island (the east side) we stayed, there are about five little resorts, each with its own pool(s) and restaurant. L's family and I stayed at the brand new You & Me Resort. It's really not possible to tell you in words that will be any more illustrative than photos, and so here you go:

Jacques checking out our digs for the week.

Relaxing on my shady porch.

My bungalow at sunset.

The beach.

Jacques & I got up every morning to seen sunrise. 
Mostly it was cloudy, but still lovely.

The best sunrise while we were there. 

Checking out the island pagoda on a very hot day.

Adventures are fun with a buddy.

There you have it! We stayed on the island from Monday to Friday. Each day I got up to see the sunrise and walk Jacques before enjoying a breakfast of fruit, homemade passionfruit jam on toast, and my choice of eggs or cereal or Khmer noodles. Then it was time to beach a bit, to dip in the ocean and then the pool and then back, maybe with a quick nap in between. The 11am-3pm hours were crazy hot and there wasn't a lot of shade to hide in near the water, so I mostly read my book or snoozed during that time. L and family and I sometimes hung out, sometimes explored together, and sometimes did our own thing. It was pleasant and easy, as a vacation should be. 

What was there to do, you ask, besides beach and pool? Well, we walked half an hour to a small pagoda, which seemed to be a real mix of Chinese and Cambodian. And another time I went on a boat ride with three other families - each with two adults and two or three kids - to go snorkeling, which was a blast. We tried out the restaurant at the resort next door - Secret Garden - several times, and I got a massage there too. 

But really, one should soak up the wind and sand and salt on an island paradise, don't you think? So I mostly did that. 

The boat ride back to the mainland was better in some ways - I was with my friends, and there was only one other dog that Jacques had gotten used to during the week - but was mostly TERRIBLE. It was an incredibly windy morning, so much so that we hadn't gone to the beach because the sand-spray was too painful. And so the boat ride was choppy, and crammed with people, and with drivers who seemed to want to go fast until they got nervous and shut off the engine, letting the boat ride uuuup a swell, pause, and then slam back down. My butt came out of my seat on many occasions and Jacques' legs were shaking by the end of it, from exhaustion. He seemed no worse for wear. 

We spent the day and evening in Sihanoukville to recover, L and family staying at a different hotel (that didn't accept pets) than us. The weather was calmer on the mainland and Jacques and I got in a long shoreline walk before dinner. 

Dinner was delicious. I met L and family at Chhne Meas Restaurant, recommended to us by a colleague for its excellent seafood. We ate very, very well.

After a night at the clean, slightly run down yet nicely decorated Vinina Boutique Hotel on a mattress as soft as my dining room table, Jacques and I followed our routine: morning walk, breakfast, and then we hopped in the car and motored back to Phnom Penh. Although it took about the same amount of time - five hours and change - it seemed an easier drive to me. Perhaps I got used to the passing; or maybe there weren't quite as many trucks; the island paradise vacation may have relaxed me to the point of staying calm in traffic. In any case, we made it home without incident. 

Well, I did come home with one souvenir I'd much rather not have: bug bites. The sand fleas, invisible and choosey in their targets, had found me and apparently fallen in love with my flesh. It's a week later and the bites have not stopped itching for a single moment. Fifteen or twenty welts cover my upper arms and lower legs, and dot my chest and neck. They're unpleasant, too, swelling up and oozing and scabbing over. 

I'm exercising my willpower to actively Not Scratch, but it's hard and not a little maddening. No one else in my group got more than one or two bites. Jacques seems perfectly fine, not scratching at all. 

I'm just lucky. 

After a nice week at work that buzzed along busily but manageably, I'm now ready to sleep away the itchiness and have a low key weekend. And to start it off, I played my favorite boardgame, Wingspan, with the Oceania expansion set a good friend bought me over the holidays. 

Though I can't help but feel a little lonely and sad to be spending my Friday night in, alone but for my furry friend and some Mozart playing... 

Still, life is pretty good, and with the Omicron variant starting to spike and peak here, a night in isn't all bad. 

Yeah, life is good!

A Bike Ride in Foreign Lands

Dear reader, 

It happens from time to time, where I plan to have a relaxing weekend and one or two outings, and then ... I overdo it. On Saturday, things went according to plan: up early to go to the local market with two friends, which was very interesting and incredibly hot. Then I actually did relax a bit, between putting things away in my apartment. Did I mention that last Wednesday, my household effects arrived? Yeah - they did, and it occurred me to me anew that it's high time to become a minimalist. Ha! Also, I hadn't realized just how much stuff came with me from Mali... 

Anyway, after a day of relaxing, I went to dinner at a French-Cambodian restaurant called Wat Damnak, which is walkable from my home. Joined by three friends, I enjoyed a 7-course plant-based meal and a bottle of German pinot noir in a pleasant outdoor courtyard. Afterwards, I walked home and went straight up to the rooftop floor to soak my feet in the pool and listen to the city. What a great Saturday!

Today, I woke up early, ready to go on a group bike ride (my bicycle arrived with my HHE), but it was raining and I decided that no, this was not the day to go cruising in the wet. Instead, I had breakfast with neighbors at a nearby cafe, then returned to arranging my apartment: this time, it was sorting all my books and schlepping them to the various bookshelves. After two hours, the rain had cleared and while clouds remained, that cut down on the heat. So two neighbors and I headed out on bicycles. 

Four hours and 21.8 miles later, we had ridden three ferries, gotten rained on, visited two temples and suffered lower legs covered in mud spatters. We biked on dirt roads and through puddles, passed and were passed by motos, tuktuks, and exhaust-spewing trucks, and weaved among potholes and pedestrians. 

After showering and taking a breath, I met a friend down the street for a light snack and catch-up chat. Then, legs wobbling and body aching, I canceled my dinner plans, ordered out, and parked myself on my couch. And with that, I leave you with the below photos, because I'm exhausted. 

 

Some interesting statues invited
participation at a temple grounds. 

Silk Island park had some freshly painted statues
of various animals. It also had live animals,
including peacocks, hornbills, porcupines, and a crocodile.
That last was the saddest, because it was in a cage maybe
three times its size - which was huge.

Two sizable pigs on the ferry, on their way to... a 
happier life, perhaps? Probably not.

Our rest stop had this gorgeous
walkway, flowers and vines dangling.

Our rest stop view.

The ferry ride back to Phnom Penh and its skyline.
Our bikes are there on the railing - we climbed up to
catch the breeze and enjoy the final ferry ride.

Settling in to Phnom Penh

At the end of my second week out of quarantine, I feel as though I've been here longer. Work is zooming right along, keeping me busy and more than a little stressed at times. My apartment is feeling more like my own, and after this next week will feel even more so, as my household goods delivery is happening. Yahoo!

My Cambodia experiences thus far involve work, grocery shopping and restaurants, a little bit of walking around exploring, and the odd visit to a cultural venue here and there. At work, I organized a commemoration ceremony for the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. The experience taught me a lot and showed me how much more I have to learn, but ultimately went very well. Most of the shopping I've done have been at "psar tohm-nup" as they're called in Khmer, or modern supermarkets. One visit to a "psar mulatan" or local market was at Russian market, which was fun but in the COVID era, not somewhere I'll frequent for awhile yet, due to its narrow walkways in confined spaces. Restaurants have been a mix of indoor and outdoor, each with a temperature scanner and spray bottle or mist of sanitizer. Only good food experiences so far, but nothing "local" or Cambodian yet. It will take me awhile, I think, to brave the streets and feel comfortable getting the more local feel of my neighborhood, this city, this country.

One thing that has me scratching my head is how very Western it all is, and how very strange this veneer feels. There are dozens of Starbucks-like coffee shops, for example, with sparkling windows and gleaming cappuccino or espresso machines, but just a customer or two and a Cambodian street vendor walking by with a cart of coconuts, perhaps, or tuk-tuk drivers hanging out hoping for a fare. It's the dichotomy of rich and poor, yes, but it's also an internal debate I have with myself:

"Wow, that's so odd, to see something so modern and new and shiny and expensive in an economically poor country like this," my state-the-obvious brain cell says wonderingly 

"Oh, what, so Cambodia can't have nice things? You want everyone to be barefoot and poor, looking at you as the rich Westerner?" sneers the self-critical brain cell who likes to point out the hypocrisy of my thoughts. 

"Girls, girls, can't it be both? Cambodia is a developing nation, with lots of foreign aid and investment, so of course there will be signs from both of those worlds as they collide," placates the pacifist, too-reasonable brain cell. 

A massive Mercedes-Benz SUV roars by, with the distinctively off-putting paint job of being all white except for the black-painted hood. The brain cells fall silent and watch from the tuk-tuk I'm taking from one place to another.

"It's going to take awhile," I say to myself, "To understand Cambodia."

Luckily, I have time.

First Week Recap

On day 13 of quarantine, the Embassy medical testing unit came to the house. Garbed in gown, mask, face shield, and gloves, he had me sit, nostril swabbed me with minimal (in my opinion) whining by me, and was off again. I was swab-ee number 20 and assumed that my results would take the predicted 24 hours. So I went back into my very large quarantine house and settled in for a day of work. 

The good part of quarantine is the time available to really comb through work e-mails and start understanding how things work at my new post. Who communicates with who, what the process maps are, and so on. 

The bad part of quarantine is the boredom. I can be lazy with the best of them, snoozing and cooking and reading and watching Netflix. But after all that - and hours of all that - then what? I wandered from room to room, watched storms from the screened in upper patio, talked to myself, and chatted with far away friends via Facetime and Whatsapp. 

Less than a handful of hours after getting swabbed, I got the all-clear, and immediately put on shoes and went outside. Walking down the street felt surreal, passing three different coffee shops was a hoot, and the heat was oppressive. After an hour or so, I wandered back to the house, packed up all my stuff, and moved over to my permanent apartment, with the help of my social sponsor M and his car. Once we lugged my three suitcases and two boxes of mailed-to-myself items and groceries up to my 2-story apartment, M offered to show me around the neighborhood. We visited an art store and he pointed out shops that had changed owners/wares two, three, four times over his two years here. We essentially walked around the block, dodging tuk-tuks. There are few sidewalks here so it pays to be observant!

By the time M dropped me off at my apartment, I was hot and sweaty and more than a little frazzled feeling. I made up a bed with some linen sheets I'd sent myself, and nibbled on some fruit. The internet wasn't working and the building staff weren't around to fix it. When I started feeling bass thumps through my walls, I started to freak out. 

I paced, and went onto my balcony to see if I could figure out where the music was coming from. It seemed to be a neighbor. I tried going upstairs to read, but could still hear/feel the bass. The thought going through my head was, "I have made a horrible mistake." 

A phone call later and my friend and colleague L swung by in a tuk-tuk to pick me up. She had also just gotten released from quarantine, and was going out to dinner with someone that she knew. She invited me to come along and thank goodness, that helped me breathe and calm down a bit. We went to Nesat, a little seafood restaurant that is not "indoors" so much as covered. We had delicious food, including snails (!), shrimp stir fry, river lobster (which turned out to be giant prawn), and more. The flavors were unique and strong, the conversation light, the laughter constant. When I got home, I felt much better and crashed to sleep. 

That was a week ago. Now, after a week going to work and meeting dozens of new people, both American and Cambodian, and taking on new projects as well as learning the ropes, I can honestly say: this is going to be a magnificent tour! Busy, yes, and stressful, of course. But there's so much to do and see and taste! 

It generally rains a bit each day, and we've had a few solid thunder/lightning downpours. A few cursory visits to grocery stores show that there's no lack of things I'll need and want. And my apartment faces a huge tree with great branches: one day, a hornbill landed not ten feet from me and I was able to admire his strange beak. I'm having a great time so far.

A note about COVID here: since July, the trends of infections and death have been going down, which is a relief. There's an alcohol ban in place, most people seem to be masking, and stores and restaurants have contactless thermometers, QR code scans for contact tracing, hand sanitizer, and so on. At work, masks are required except when in your own office space. It feels like it's taken seriously, which is a relief. 

Some photos from the past ten days:

Brunch at Ministry of Cat
means feline company.

A nearby cafe offers
tasty food and pretty
plating. 

A rainy day here means
flooding streets.

One of my favorite features
of my apartment: the rooftop pool. 

Counting Down, Again

It's that time again... time to move to a new country. I've done this twice before with the State Department, and moved from one U.S. state to six times before that. And every time, I feel panicked in the months leading up to the move; confident in the week leading up to the move; and then calmly wondering what I've forgotten in the last few days leading up to the move. 

This time around has been no different, and I am now in the "last few days before the move" period. 

The pre-move bumps have happened and been, if not resolved, at least accepted. My best friend and companion, Jacques, won't be coming with me right away because I can't find an airline solution to getting him there. That's bump one. Bump two was when the shipping company that was going to send 250lbs of my 'stuff' by air, e-mailed me to say that my shipment had been "lost." I have started the claims process with them and with my insurance company as well; and have been shopping for some of the replaceable items in the meantime. 

Is there a third bump in the road? I hope not. I'm both excited - new job doing work I love; new country that is fascinating and beautiful; new people to meet and food to eat - and anxious - COVID; new responsibilities; being so very far from home. It's a healthy mix... right?!

My pre-travel COVID test is scheduled, my suitcases are ready to be packed, and I'm spending good quality time with my parents and Jacques. I visited both grandmothers and other family, and a few friends in the meantime. 

Now to wait and see what travel bumps and rewards await!

 

Pre-Departure Preparations

I'm one week out from heading to Paris! As usual, the preparatory tasks start piling up, even though it feels like I've been trying to stay ahead of it all. In any case, here's my monthly blog post to sum it all up.

The past six weeks were a real roller coaster for me. Coming back to FSI (the Foreign Service Institute, where much of our formal, professional training takes place) was both fun and stressful. It's odd, because FSI is like an idyllic college campus: lots of green space, walking paths under the trees, picnic tables, a few little gazebos, a decent cafeteria with some variety, and hallways packed with people learning tradecraft, languages of all kinds, and other useful diplo-skills.

I was excited at first to see familiar faces from previous trainings. Oddly enough, though, the anticipation of seeing familiar faces caused more anxiety than nostalgic fondness for me. By the end of each day in my first few weeks, I would feel like I was frantically checking out the face of every person I passed in the hallway, wondering if they knew me or vice versa. It was strange, even as I felt myself tensing up and angst-ing about it, the thought would cross my mind that I loved seeing familiar faces, it shouldn't be so stressful. Talking to other people helped me feel better: many people feel the same way.

It's disappointing and confusing, that 'coming home' is not the easy, simple thing one imagines it will be. Sure, I'm not dodging suicidal motorcycle drivers along unpaved roads, or going through my seventeenth power outage of the hour. Maybe I understand (mostly) the language spoken around me, and I don't have constant low-grade digestive stress. On the other hand, the stores seem overwhelmingly and unnecessarily over-stocked with options, and nothing hits me emotionally like I think it "should." There's a stress with coming back that is undefined and nebulous, but no less intense for all that. Interpersonal relationships feel strained. Good friends seem distant or, worse, too judgmental.

Thankfully, some of that unnamed stress melted away as I learned about visas and our processes for granting or denying them; passports and nationality, and the unexpected rights and limitations that come with them; and all about the services I might be asked to provide for Americans living overseas (like visiting them in prison, or doing welfare and whereabout checks). It was a great six-week course and although I know it'll be necessary to learn all over again on arrival in Paris, I feel at least marginally more intelligent on the subject matter than I did before.

Which brings me to the present! As I said, it's one week until blast off, and I'm busy getting ready. I drove down to Durham on Sunday with Jacques in the back seat. Today we went to the veterinarian, got our $95 EU health certificate, and sent it off to USDA so that they can provide their $28 APHIS approval stamp and send it back in my $25 overnight FedEx package, hopefully in time to take with us to the airport on Monday. Whew! They aren't kidding when they say having pets in the Foreign Service ain't cheap!

Last minute shopping, separating stuff into shipment piles, changing my address, and getting my stuff together all take time, energy, and focus. Luckily, I have wonderful parents who are willing to help and keep me going, as well as great friends who support me and cheer me on. The mobile life style does help clarify relationships, and those that can stand the test of sporadic visits and my intense bouts of scrambling to get things done are definitely keepers. I'm a very lucky person to have such incredible people in my life.

Next post will be from Paris!

--Z

Vacations: 3 Different Trips

In March, I took a road trip to Burkina Faso with six friends and it was a wonderful, relaxing, interesting couple of days. When I returned to Bamako and downloaded the pictures, there were many other photos from my R&R as well. So, now you get to see pictures from my Nov/Dec trip AND from Burkina Faso! And, from my April R&R in Italy!

First, USA R&R. I spent a few weeks at my parents' house in Durham, NC. My Minnesota grandmother flew down and we got to spend a lovely week together, catching up and enjoying chilly Durham. My brother and his wife came for Thanksgiving so I had time with them as well. And most importantly, I got time with my fantastic mom and dad, who are my biggest fans and my favorite people in the world. And so I present to you, R&R 2016 pictures:

My grandma Nancy watching the birds in my parents' back yard. 

The neighborhood bamboo grove that my father's "Bambusero" group has made visitor-friendly.

Pretty house with a pretty tree in Parkwood.

Dad and Joe. 

Proud dad at the red hydrant grove. 

Bamboo groves are so pretty.

Off to visit the goat farm!

Hungry goats.

This guy loved my grandma... and her cane! He stuck by her like a faithful pet, begging to be patted and head-scratching on her cane. 

Silly kids!

By goats!

Smiley mom on the hill!

Thanksgiving with my awesome family.

---

Next up is my recent trip to Burkina Faso! A few weeks ago a friend of mine asked if I'd like to join a group planning a road trip across the Mali-Burkina Faso border, and after dithering and procrastinating, I finally decided to do it. To give you an idea, this isn't a trip that is taken lightly: the security situation in Mali is such that travel farther than 50 kilometers out of town, or any trip overnight, has to be approved by our regional security office. For our trip, we had to provide details: what route would we take, what communication devices would we have, where would sleep, what tourist sites would we visit. We were also given locator devices to take with us. 

Luckily, this meant a very well-planned trip, and off we went directly after work on Friday! We took two cars and motored to the border. There were five stops to make, though I couldn't tell you what was done at each. We showed our passports a couple of times, the vehicle owners presented their "carte grise" or registration cards, and paid the various "peage" or tools. We chatted with the border police, who were various shades of stern, jovial, or disinterested. 

On the way to Burkina, we stopped for a quick road-side picnic.

Banfora Hotel

Asha at Domes de Fabedougou 

Domes de Fabedougou

Cascades de Karfiguéla

Cascades de Karfiguéla

Water pipes

Yes, we went to McDonald... no golden arches but the burger was delish!

Lake Tangrela, where it is sometimes possible to see hippos. Not the evening we went, however.

Ladies selling baskets.

Ready to take a hike!

Our little adventure group.

Size.

Artistic photography in cool landscapes.

Our guide managed to take us places just before the hordes of school-kids... we were
on our way out of the hiking area, thank goodness.

Giant baobob. We went inside and learned its history. 

Cashew tree fruit!

Start of our walk through the historic area of Bobo Dioulasso.

Narrow alleyways.

Fish stew, anyone?

Water collection.

A little musical interlude. 

The Bobo Dioulasso mosque. 

Inside the mosque.

---

And last but not least, here are a few pictures from my Italian R&R. Friends of my parents decided to spend a year in Italy, renting apartments in different parts of the country to explore different regions.

View from uphill on Todi.

Assisi view.

Mom & pop, the Italian travelers!

Mom enjoying the view. 

Dad being a humble beggar... with a view!

Orvieto's fabulous church.

Views from Orvieto.

Taking a break.

The hilltop town of Civita di Bagnoregio.

Pretty archway in Perugia. 

Lovely courtyard of a B&B. 

Sardinia: hiking to get a peek of a gorge.

Sardinia beach from above.

A nuraghe, ruin of a people who inhabited Sardinia in the tenth century or so.

Pops of red.

Penant on a hilltop with a grand view.