Arts & Sports & the Lonelies

 I've done a couple interesting things since my last blog entry, so here's a recap. 

The first notable activity was an art tour organized by the Community Liaison Office and a local art aficionado, a woman named Shauna, originally from Ireland who came to Cambodia to teach English, found she didn't care for the education system after a few years, and switched over to the arts sector. She fell in love with the country and the job, and is in the process of becoming a Cambodian citizen. Wow! 

Shauna arranged a visit of seven artist's galleries or home studios for a group of about fifteen people. We hopped in a bevy (herd? bunch? group?) of tuktuks and zoomed around town for about four hours. It was lots of fun visiting each artist and hearing what each had to say about their lives and their art. There were men and women, well known and unknown, old, young, abled and differently-abled. And a variety of mediums, too. By the seventh studio I was quite worn out, but my brain was full of good imagery. 

Chhim Sothy: studied traditional Khmer painting
for two years at the Royal University of Fine Arts.
Then,under the Vietnamese occupying forces of the
time, he studied communist poster art. Finally, he
focused on modern art and found himself drawn to
drip painting and abstract expressionism. 

Chan Phoun: A young man who lost one forearm in
an accident while working in a brick factory as a
child. During his recovery he started to create art,
and has traveled an interesting route from painted
bricks and statement art to detailed, intricate drawings
from his imagination and musings. 

Leang Seckon: This artist creates elaborate
tapestries using a wide range of media
with photographs, fabrics, drawings, and
local organic materials. His works draw from
his experience growing up during the Khmer
Rouge regime and his wish to explore the past,
present, and future of Cambodia.

Chhan Dina: This artist told us a fascinating story of
being selected as one of just a few Cambodian artists 
to go to a demining site and paint whatever came to
their minds. However, it was her nature paintings that
really impressed me. My favorite is on the far left of 
this photo - a bird on a branch in the snow, with all black
and gold paint brushstrokes. 

After the art tour, life continued apace. My normal routine involves getting up early to take Jacques for a 30-45 minute walk, usually around the neighborhood or over to the long median park with a few green strips along it. Street dogs are always a potential problem, though I'd say we meet them less than half the time we're out nowadays. A loud "hah!" or "shoo" generally makes them go away; if not, Jacques' snarls warn them off. Though some are persistent followers, making for a frustrating walk with Jacques' lack of control, for the most part they just pass us by or turn around. I like walking in the early morning, during or just after sunrise, along with other early walkers, joggers, and exercisers, of which there are many. 

Often there are pretty street scenes that remind me this is a very different country. We do the same walk in the evening, getting to see the monuments lit up and the trees with their colorful lights. Sometimes Jacques poops out, walking slow as a snail with the heat, and we take a break to watch the foot- and street traffic. It's a lovely routine, at times broken up by street dogs forcing us to take u-turns or run away or cross a street. 

Another part of routine is building relationships at work. This means meeting my colleagues from other sections and agencies, sometimes for work meetings and sometimes for lunch. My friend, colleague, and fellow Khmer language student and I decided to have a nice lunch at Sombok, a woman-owned, woman-run, woman-staffed French-Cambodian restaurant in Phnom Penh. Yum! Networking can be fun!

After a few weeks of routine, though, it's time for a change! So a work trip takes me up to Siem Reap along with a contingent of various agencies and sections from the Embassy. The goal: to do some outreach! This means different things to different parts of the Embassy, and for me it meant doing hotel inspections and research to prepare for some big VIP visits expected later this year. Over the course of two and a half days - it takes about six hours to get from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap - I visited ten hotels, two transportation companies and the local airport to meet the authorities there, attended a reception, and spoke about U.S. government business practices at a "Meet the Embassy" event. I also went out to dinner with my team of nine Cambodians. There wasn't time for exploring Angkor Wat or other touristy things, but it was lots of fun just to see the reviving city. Here are a few shots from my work trip:

Swanky sample table setting at one hotel.

Before Covid, this hotel had jazz nights in their
fantastic lounge.

Cambodian hotels do pools right!

Lum Orng, a farm to table restaurant, serves 
beautiful, tasty food. 

The Embassy reception was at Phare, 
the circus! The performers were incredible.

Posing in the lobby of another lovely hotel.

Some hotels had grounds to take the breath away.

After my week of diplomat-ing, it was time to catch up on office work, housekeeping, and Jacques. He did fine with me out of town, because my dog walker is amazing and she stayed with him while I was gone. He seemed happy to see me, punishing me for my absence by waking me early on the weekend days. Ah, well... 

Finally, I'd like to share that sometimes the Foreign Service life, full of exciting trips and exotic locales and interesting work, can also be incredibly lonely. I can't speak to couples or kids, but as a single Foreign Service officer, I admit that there are times I wonder what the heck I'm doing. I'm 41, single, no kids, no dating life (because I don't make an effort at one). There are times it seems like a big mistake, to venture out into the world and uproot myself every few years. Beyond my family and some very good friends - who are supportive and loving and wonderful - there is no community waiting for me to come back. Whenever I decide to retire, there won't be a city I call home, a house with my things in it, or a partner to help figure it all out. 

At times, the loneliness can be suffocating. Can I walk out my door and see an amazing culture, beautiful architecture. delicious food, and people slowly becoming familiar? Yes. But when I'm in my temporary home, casting about for something to do, especially in this period of time before I've made close friends... it makes me sad, sometimes. What to do when loneliness presses in? Sometimes a nap, or a book, or a movie, can help me zone out and relax. Other times, chatting with family or friends via Zoom is the solution. Sometimes, I wallow in self pity. Others, I try to count all the wonderful things in my life. 

And sometimes, I try to form new relationships. Last weekend when "the lonelies" hit me, I decided (after a good bit of the other ways of coping) to join a group called the Hash House Harriers. This is often billed as a drinking club with a running problem. It's a group of people that goes out every week and does a long run. Luckily for me, there are others who detest running as much as I do, so there is a walking group as well. There are HHH groups around the world. There was one in Bamako, and Paris, and in most places there are embassies. It's a group of various nationalities, including the local one, and they have all kinds of end-of-run rituals involving beer and strange songs and camaraderie. 

So I went for a walk and, sure enough, it helped to chase the dark clouds away. 

Prayer houses are everywhere, sometimes large like
this one, sometimes small and less colorful. 

Hot, sweaty, and feeling good.

Walking through a grove of some sort.

This captures the day very well: hot, sunshiney,
with a path forward.

The overlook at the end of the walk.

Deep Breath

 After my funk of last weekend, I'm happy to say that my sense of adventure was rekindled. It helped that Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday last week were local holidays and so I had ample opportunity to get out and explore. 

What holiday, you might ask? Pchum Ben, or Ancestor's Day, is a Buddhist holiday wherein Cambodians make offerings to monks and/or directly to their ancestors. My language teacher here had me read an article about the history of Pchum Ben, and it surprised me: it's a story of a famous monk who went to Hell, threw down a flower that turned into a floating conveyance for him that sped so quickly through Hell that the breeze cooled and protected him, and spoke to the suffering denizens of Hell. He asked how he could help them, and they asked that he tell their living families to send food and good wishes to them to alleviate their suffering. 

Tuesday

I slept in, and then made a little wandering plan for myself: looking at Google maps, I decided to explore the green strips of park near my apartment. Turns out these, parks are long wide boulevards of white pavement and strips of grass, very few trees, and some lovely monuments. I must have wandered for about an hour, reading inscriptions and peering at the stores across the street on either side. Finally, when the heat became too much and my clothing damp from sweat, I headed towards a cafe that a friend told me was lovely. It was across a tree lined side street from a temple complex, and boasted air conditioning that made me smile. Backyard Cafe has vegetarian and vegan options, as well as some meat dishes, and plenty of smoothie options. 

I sat for awhile just soaking it in, before a text message alerted me that a neighbor and friend of mine had seen me enter the cafe from his perch on the upstairs balcony. I joined him there and we chatted, watching a brief rain swing through as we sipped our cold drinks and I ate a salad. 

After walking home, I relaxed for the rest of the day: watching tv, reading a book, and napping. For dinner, I joined a few of my single friends for dinner at a steak restaurant called Mara Steak, Wok and Roll. I had beef lok lak, a local dish that includes chunks of beef in a tasty gravy. It was nice to socialize, but boy oh boy was I ready for bed that night!

Wednesday

After a night of sweaty sleep (my ACs stopped working), I rousted myself early to go for a bike ride with friends M&M, who bike a lot and even have those fancy pedal-click shoes. 

We rode to Big Silk Island, where I took in the views of Cambodians dressed in clean, bright clothing and going to the local wat or pagoda with their canisters of rice to make offerings to the monks. It was quite something to see - festive and happy. 

About twenty some-odd miles later, I got home and took a long cold shower and a nap. In the evening, I joined some newly arrived colleagues for dinner at Khmer Surin, where we enjoyed Cambodian food and an open air second floor all to ourselves. 

Thursday

The ACs were working so I had a good night's sleep, thank goodness. I awoke feeling like a nice breakfast out, so off I went to La Croisette, which is located right across the street from the river. There I enjoyed the view from the plant be-decked terrace and a plate of eggs, toast, and prosciutto-topped arugula salad, along with a smoothie. 

Next up was a wander up the riverside, checking out passing boats, a festive atmosphere of Cambodian families out for the last day of Pchum Ben, picnics, and sunshine. I kept walking, stopping to chat with a American jazz musician and, later, a Cambodian woman who wanted to practice her English. I continued north until finally, the heat won and I caught a tuk-tuk home. 

After a few minutes of cooling off, it was time to change into a swimsuit and head over to Plantation, a hotel nearby that has a lovely oasis of trees, cabanas, and a pool. There I spent four glorious hours, swimming, nibbling, reading, watching a rain shower blow through, and chat with some friends that had the same great idea I did. 

All in all, it was an excellent couple of days. I found my sense of adventure and was nice to myself, and feel like I've got my groove back now. Thank goodness!

That Lost Feeling, Plus the Jerky Gremlin

The work stress of my first few months in Bamako, Mali, masked the culture shock roller coaster. When it was later pointed out to me that part of my stressed out state was due to that 'coaster, it somehow made me feel a tiny bit better. In Paris, it seemed impossible that I could be subject to culture shock, since everything is so pretty, and tasty, and historic, and iconic. But still, it would hit me at times, there in my bougie suburbia apartment: that feeling, part disappointment in myself for not getting out there to discover new places and make new friends, and part just feeling lonely and lost. 

Here at my third post, when that lost feeling hits me from time to time, I try to be extra nice to myself, mindful that's it will pass. It's not easy though, because of that little voice that's always around to make me question myself. It's that little voice in the back of my mind that has lots of judgement to pass:

Why are you so scared to just go out and explore?

Why don't you have any local friends?

You're missing it all in favor of throwing yourself into work - what's the point of even living abroad, then?

Sure you have a great apartment, but you never go out! You're All Alone and that'll never change at this rate.

What a jerk. 

---

I once saw a self-help book at a Barnes & Noble with a title that included gremlins. It encouraged drawing the speaker of that little voice in your head, and showed examples from the author's patients. There were cartoons of beautiful people and evil ones, and of monsters or animals with fangs. I've thought about that book (which I did not read in full) a lot over the years. What would my gremlin look like? For me, it would look exactly like me, except sometimes it would be a fit, beautiful, vibrant version of myself with a snotty, pinched expression; and sometimes it would be a slovenly, clumsy, fat and boring version of me. Either way, my gremlin is a real asshole.

There are times I can shush the gremlin-me and move beyond it, and times I can't. In the latter, I look in the mirror and see every single one of my insecurities, my frizzy hair and chubby cheeks and dull stupid face, my dumpy and ill-fitting clothes, my boring personality and lonely life. It's clearly a terrible lie, but there it is: my evil gremlin, who whispers ugly nothings in my ear. 

Now combine that jerk's mutterings with a downward spiral of culture shock, that feeling that I'll never get out and meet people outside my bubble, or experience authentic local things... and you've got a really grumpy me that refuses to step outside my apartment door. 

It's a rough day when those two things meet and take over. 

It's been that kind of day today. 

So what to do when forces conspire to make me hide? Well, drinking isn't one of the solutions - that makes it worse. Hanging out with other people can help, but just as often exacerbates the feelings of inadequacy as the Jerk makes comparisons or points out foibles or faux pas. Coloring in coloring books while listening to music; a bubble bath; watching silly tv shows; eating a good meal: these activities are calming and potentially restorative. Sleep, too, soothes the ego. 

---

After writing this, it feels like I shouldn't post it; who will it worry, who will pass judgement, will anyone read it at all? But I will post it, because it's true and it's my blog, after all. And life is not at all bad: Cambodia is an interesting place with lovely people. To prove that it's not all doom and gloom with me, here are a few recent pictures:

Views from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from the Rosewood sky lounge. 

View from my apartment rooftop - love that sky!

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. 

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

Changing Temps

The year is flying by as we hit the middle of September. Many of my closest friends here in Bamako have moved on to their next posts or trainings, and I've started making new friends with the newer arrivals. When in meetings, I sometimes look around realize I'm amongst those who have been at post the longest, which is a strange feeling.

The coming months promise to bring lots of excitement: a work trip to Accra, Ghana; a personal vacation trip to Morocco with good friends; a visit in Bamako by my parents; and possibly another work trip to Conakry. Soon after it will be the end of the year, which will bring my last few months at post.

My puppy, Jacques, is almost six months old, and having him has opened up several new friendships and avenues for activities with other dog owners or folks who like dogs. He's gotten so much bigger and his personality continues to develop and change. He's *mostly* potty trained now, though at friends' houses he still manages to leave surprises. As they say here: petit-a-petit, or dony-dony (slowly, slowly; little by little; step-by-step).

The temperatures are starting to cool as we near the end of rainy season. It's lovely to walk in the evenings and feel a cool breeze now and then. The days still bring 90+ degree weather and wind/rain storms are still sweeping through, but I can feel it: the seasons are changing.

--Z

En Route

It's been an exciting week so far, and it's only Tuesday night. And it's gonna get more exciting!

Bidding

Over the weekend, I researched various cities and countries so that I could try to put in my best "bid list" for my second Foreign Service posting. The first time I bid, it was a very different process, where I just designated each post on the list (~100 jobs/posts) as "high," "medium," or "low," and provided a short comment on the side to explain particular reasons for my designations. 

To clarify - bidding is the term used for when we try to figure out our onward assignments in the Foreign Service. It can happen anywhere from a few years out to a few months out. In my case, I'm bidding in November 2016 for an assignment in 2018. 

This bidding experience started out with (not surprisingly) confusion. I thought I wasn't supposed to bid until spring 2017, then realized at the last minute that I needed to do it now. My bidding options are limited by job type, since it's required that I do a consular tour next. This is because every Foreign Service Officer is required to do some time in the consular field within their first two assignments, and I've been doing management work in my first tour. 

Anyway, once it was clear that my bidding research had to go, go, go, I dove in! The listed started out with almost 150 options, which quickly got reduced as I scratched off non-consular tours. The locations on the list varied widely across all regions and most continents, including large metropolitan cities and tiny hilly-side towns or far-flung places I had to enter into Google maps to reveal their actual locations. 

The next step was figuring out "timing." This involves figuring out what month I can leave my current post (for me, March 2016) and determining how much leave and training I'd be required to take versus how much I'm allowed to take. Each post on the list includes a month and year that they want someone to show up, so my list was vastly reduced as I crossed off places marked as 2019 or 2016 (too late, too early). There's a limit on how much training one should take within their first couple years, so that knocked a few others off the list. 

At the end of it all, I had 19 choices and they covered many languages (including French and English, as well as Mandarin, Spanish, Lao, Thai, Portguese, etc), regions and timings. I submitted my bid list to my Career Development Officer and now... I wait. 

I'm not good at waiting, at least not patiently!

Voting

More important that bidding, I finally voted! I did my overseas vote in the presidential elections and am proud of myself for getting it in on time. Not much to say on this point, but it felt very good and it's incredibly sad that I'll miss the election results 'in the moment', because...

R&R

I'm at the airport awaiting my flight! That's right, it's finally time. I'm on my way home, at last, and I'm very excited. FAR more excited than I could have predicted six months ago. My R&R plans include resting and relaxing and catching up with my parents in Durham; visiting friends in DC; and visiting family in Miami. Also eating tons of good food (mostly from my dad's fantastic kitchen!) and trying my best not to think about work. :)

Never a dull moment... so long for now, Bamako! I'll be back!

--Z

Navigating Bamako

Two Fridays ago I brought home the 1990s-era RAV4 I bought from someone who recently left post. It was my first time driving it, and for navigation I asked one of my apartment neighbors to ride with me. I made it home without incident, employing the aggressively careful hyper-vigilance necessary for dealing with the endlessly swerving motorbikess, stoplight-less roads, and lack of lanes or attempt to stay in lanes. I have to say, I'm so happy to have wheels, though my lack of sense of direction is - as always - limiting.

Unfortunately, the week leading up to that Friday was exhausting and I spent last weekend trying to sleep off the effects. Work continued at the same high-octane pace, but more intense, since I was handling the shop on my own while my boss is in DC for a conference. In other words, for my third and fourth weeks on the job, I was in charge of the entire GSO portfolio: housing, motor pool, shipping/customs, procurement, warehouse/supply, and travel. Going forward, the last three will be my primary focus.

The learning curve is incredibly steep, but I have to admit, as stressful as it is, I'm enjoying it too. I can honestly say that I've learned something new every day so far. My challenge now is to keep up... which is why I worked late so much two weeks ago, burning myself out until I had to spend the weekend recovering.

Luckily, towards the end of this past week, two different people advised me to be sure to take my time off and relax, reminding me that work would always be there when I came back. While this is true, it's still hard: I want to do well, and sometimes that necessitates staying late. However, I took their advice this weekend. Friday evening I went to the American Club and socialized; Saturday I joined a workout group for some crazy cross-fit-like routine, and then made some charosets and joined a Passover seder.

The Passover event was at one of my neighboring apartments and included several Malians and non-Jewish colleagues, plus a couple of Jewish ones. It was a lot of fun and we had some good conversation about discrimination and minorities. And of course, we ate well. I made a huge bowl of charosets and came home with enough matzoh to last me awhile. Nice to celebrate, though it made me a little homesick.


Today, I skyped with some A-100 colleagues in Croatia and China, had brunch at a neighborh's, then spent most of the day by or in the pool. We ordered out for dinner (pretty tasty Indian food) and lazed about. I FaceTimed with my family, which alleviated my homesickness a little. It was a lovely Sunday, overall.

Meanwhile, the heat - over one hundred degrees daily - is intense. At night it's been hovering at ninety degrees. Today it actually rained. We're not in rainy season yet, though. This was apparently what they call a mango rain, which sweetens and ripens the mangos (which are incredibly delicious already). Real rainy seasons hits in June or July.

Tomorrow, it's back to the grindstone at work, getting my boss caught up on what went on while she was away and continuing to learn how things operate.

It's the end of my first month in Mali. It feels both like I've been here forever, and like I've been here for just a few days. The security atmosphere is difficult, and work is draining, and there's so much in Bamako to explore and figure out, too. Overall, though, I can say I am glad I'm here and am enjoying the Foreign Service life so far.

--Z

Week Two Bamako Update

It's strange to think that I’ve been in Mali for just over two weeks now. It’s incredible how quickly things come to seem normal, or close to: the dirt and the moto-filled roads, the heat and the compound-life, the French and Bambara and every-day-ness of work.

Each day I go to the embassy and learn a hundred new things about my job, try to keep up with the frantic pace that is set merely by a routine day’s needs: problems with housing, official procurement needs of many different individuals, offices and organizations, planning for an upcoming event, tracking people’s shipments of personal goods or vehicles, reviewing and approving travel paperwork for everyone that is coming and going or planning to come or go; and of course, responding to status requests on all these things. 

I seem to meet new people every single day, both American and Malian. Practicing my French feels good, it's all coming back; practicing my abysmal Bambara is a little embarrassing, but hopefully I'll start to improve soon. The weekends are a fun mix of getting together with friends, maybe exploring a new restaurant or store, relaxing, or setting up house a bit more.

It’s the normal routine of having moved. I’ve done this four times in the last five years (albeit three times in DC alone), so it doesn’t feel strange or even too terrifically exciting this time, even though it's a new country rather than a new neighborhood.

Then again, there are the times things don’t feel normal at all: moving indoors from a screened in porch because of the fireworks-sound, pop-pop-pop, of distant gunfire, and the relief when a security officer comes by to tell us all is safe, that student elections were being celebrated with gunfire or fireworks, or both. The pause during a dinner party when an embassy radio has chatter on it, followed by a quick check of smartphones around the table to see if any new warnings or news stories about the city have popped up.

That doesn’t feel normal at all. And yet… I continue eating and chatting, enjoying everyone’s company while calming the unease in my chest. ; the ever-so-slight anxiety on the drive home; these are new to me, and difficult to adapt to.

It is a reality here that is hard to describe. I’m not frightened or anxious all the time, or even most of the time. One must live one’s life, after all. And the fear of a new place, and how to act, and where to go is not new to me. Truthfully though, that lurking sensation of unease is weird. 

I went out to eat at a restaurant with some friends last week, and to get in required getting wanded, going through a gate that was locked behind us, then let in via another locked gate to the compound which housed the restaurant. Odd, yes, but somehow also reassuring. As we left, standing just outside the two gates, a friend who has been here almost two years became suddenly anxious. She ushered us into the car and insisted we leave quickly, explaining that she felt uncomfortable standing in a group of obvious Westerners with no one else around. Too target-like.

It’s going to take awhile to adjust, and depending on what happens – if anything – I imagine my behavior will change. Some people show obvious signs of unease and fear; others seem to take it all in stride. I’m sure I’ll be one of the latter, at least for a while.

At the end of week two, it feels like I've been here a month at least. Not in a bad way, not at all! I just feel like I've adjusted rather quickly to being in an all new place with all new sensations. I can see now how easy it is to remain "in the bubble," as I've heard it described: spending time with embassy people, going to each other's homes or staying at my own, going out only to Western-style restaurants, and rarely getting out into the local culture, into the Bamako the Malians know and love. Staying in the bubble is easy and comforting and safe, or feels that way. 

I hope that I will adjust enough to explore the city and learn more about the culture. And I'm optimistic that I can and will! It may just take time and experience and learning a bit more about the pulse of things here. 

First Week Reflections

It hardly feels like it’s been a whole ten days, but here I am, working at the embassy and living in a foreign country. I marvel at typing that because it’s been in my sights for so long, and in my vaguely defined imagination for even longer, and now it doesn’t quite feel like I’m really living here. You know? Like, yes, I’m in a country that is completely foreign. The motos (motorbikes) are like a swarm of ants on the roads, many of which aren’t paved off the main thoroughfares. There’s a sense of adventure and danger in driving anywhere, even though I’m not doing the driving thus far; and yet, it’s become almost normal, too: the heat, the dust, the throngs of people.

It’s strange how quickly that happens. It’s not adaptation, exactly, but more of a quick acceptance based on the requirement to report for work and really dig in immediately. After a day of trying my best to remember everyone’s names (many Malians share common names, like Abdoulaye, Fatimata, or Idrissa) and drink from the firehose of on-the-job training.

Work is going well so far, I think. I’m in charge of the procurement section, the warehouse, and travel, which means that I have a good-sized group of locally employed staff. Talking with them is a great way to start learning about the language and culture of Mali. At my apartment compound, we have local guards, and I’ve been trying to learn bits and pieces of Bambara from them, which is fun. My French has returned, if not fully then at least to a conversational extent.

I’m not mobile yet, and so I depend on others who are doing things to pick me up. People are great sports about it, though, which is a relief. The embassy community is great: friendly and supportive. There’s a real mix of agencies, which is interesting: NIH, USAID, CDC, NGOs, and so on.

Thus far I’ve tagged along on trips to the zoo and botanical gardens, a little Westerner-owned bar called the Sleeping Camel which has low-key trivia now and then, and two restaurants. I’ve also been to several people’s homes, which are huge here. It’s a relief to come home to my two bedroom, two-and-a-half bath gigantic apartment!

I’ll definitely supply more impressions (and pictures) as time goes on, but overall I’d say the heat and dust, the friendliness of both Malians and Americans, and the Niger River are my top contenders. I’ve crossed the river several times by car, and each time it looks a little different, a little wild… and still, the buildings along its banks remind me of the huge city teeming with all kinds of people. Fascinating!