Meet the Flintstones
Today, after my Russian tutor listened to my hacking cough for about the 400th day in a row...
Today, after my Russian tutor listened to my hacking cough for about the 400th day in a row...
On the way back from a Hallowe'en party with a coworker, our cab stops to pick up two locals. One of them decides to practice her English on us.
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On the second anniversary of 9/11, CNN rebroadcast their coverage from 9/11/01. For a long time, I kept that on tape, and made myself rewatch it every anniversary. Survivors' guilt. That tape is long gone, but I still make myself watch the coverage, and I'm sitting here watching it now. Every year I tell myself I won't do it this year, and every year I'm lying.
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It's a nice fallish weekend, so on Saturday my friend J and I headed to a modern art musem that's in an old arsenal factory in Kyiv. The space is amazing, so it was nice to see. We're definitely both people who fall into the "OMG what is that?" category of critique around some art, though, so we definitely spent more time trying to be mature and not laugh at, say, the huge carpeted box with mirrors inside and holes you could stick your arms into ("Hahaha, someone dropped their program in there!") or the plastic food containers with random trash in them than actually being serious about what we were looking at. When it devolved into weird performance art, I had to skedaddle through some of the exhibits. That stuff freaks me out. Don't need to watch any naked ladies playing with dental drills, thanks. Here, however, are a few of the highlights of what we saw:
LOLcats! Right in a museum!
Fight in the Verkhovna Rada. I would definitely have bought a print of this if there had been one for sale.
Actual highlight! I think J and I agreed that this was our favourite thing in the museum. It's a (very) short piece about a guy who takes art into rural villages and will only barter for-- rather than sell-- pieces. Very funny and genuine.
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Kosovo is all done, and I'm in DC for training for a couple of weeks. One week down, one week to go. Finished my AEF (bleh), started wading through the bid list to try to figure out what to do for my onward post, all that good stuff. So a couple of weeks back in DC with my peeps, a weekend in Richmond with my parents, was pretty much just what the doctor ordered. Except for one thing.
I'm homesick.
I am cripplingly, devastatingly homesick.
I don't know if this is normal or not. I don't even know if it's new or not (for me). Most of the time, when I'm at post, I just don't let myself think about home. If it creeps into my mind, I banish it immediately. It seems like a dangerous road to go down, and maybe that should be my first hint. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know plenty of people who are in town right now, and are perfectly happy to be here. They're ready to do some shopping, see some friends, eat some food they can't get at post, all that good stuff. But most of them seem perfectly happy to go back to their friends, family, pets, work at post. Last week, I had dinner with 5-6 of my training classmates who all happen to be in town right now, and only one of them-- who is actually now back in the States (for family reasons)-- put it exactly in the words I was trying to formulate. And, naturally, everyone else at the table looked at her like she had three heads.
She said: "You know, when I was in [Country X], Vonage was my lifeline. I never really felt like I lived there. And now I'm back here, and it's like [Country X] never happened. It's like I never even went. I don't feel connected to it at all."
That's exactly how I feel. When I'm in Ukraine (or even when I was in Kosovo-- which I truly loved) I never feel like I live there. I feel like I live here and I just happen to be there for an extended period of time. I genuinely like my work, and I have some genuinely good friends, but being here... it's like none of that ever happened. I don't feel excited to be back in the States. I feel like I live here, and why would I ever leave.
I woke up this morning at 5, mostly because it was 400 degrees in my Mom's house and I was sleeping in flannel sheets, but once I got a drink of water I couldn't go back to sleep for thinking about how much I do not want to leave. I'm home now. That other place is okay and all, but it's not home.
Don't worry, I don't have any notions of not going back. Of course I'm going back. I've never been a quitter and I'm not going to start being one now. I just really have to figure out what this means for my future. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe it's just that it's my first trip home in nearly a year and I'm overwhelmed. Maybe in a few weeks it'll pass and I'll be back in the saddle.
Or maybe it means a lot.
Stay tuned, I guess.
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(First off, A, I know I owe you an email. I'm not ignoring you, I'm just waiting until I've been here a week so I have something quasi-substantial to say.)
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The following things have happened in the last 24 hours:
1. Through my master sprinting skills, managed to make a connection in Vienna in 15 minutes;
2. Arrived in Pristina a bag down;
3. Nearly got stuck in my bedroom this morning;
4. Been through more bomb checks than the rest of my life cumulatively (where 3 > 0);
5. Heard the marimba remix of "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For".
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Just now got back from a trip to the grocery store. I was innocently standing there, occasionally contemplating the nearby fish tank, listening to my iPod and contemplating my toilet paper selection, when I heard a faint [slap!] on the floor next to me.
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Yesterday, a member of our Mission senior staff had a party for all us newbies (although, "newbie" is kind of the wrong word, given that some of the invitees are moving on to their next posts pretty soon). A few of us got there, started making small talk and getting food, and then one of them sidled up to me with an urgent whisper.
"There's a cat here."
Now, I have to make clear that I am super, super allergic to cats. Some people have a hard time in the spring because they're a little/medium-range allergic to a lot of things. I am just really, really allergic to one thing. Like, epi-pen allergic. You know how some people eat peanuts and immediately need an ambulance? That's me + cats, with about a 15 minute delay.
I knew I had to leave, but as I was trying to figure out how to do it with even a smidge of social grace, another, different whisper was even more urgent. "It's by your shoes."
So, this immediately got really really awkward because everyone had settled in our hosts' living room, where everything was carpeted and upholstered, which meant I just could not be in that room, which meant pretty much my only option was to shout across the room that I had to leave. I do not believe that this is exactly what is required from diplomatic protocol, but hey, shit happens. At least one of my coworkers came and stood with me on the last bit of hardwood floor so I didn't look like a total asshole.
Anyway, it was really awkward, and I felt like a tool for having forgotten to ask about the cat beforehand, and of course it does not exactly play well. But! It was so nice to realize that our little circle of newbies has each other's backs. Honestly, it would have been really easy not to even notice the cat was around, one of the family explained to me that the cat was "antisocial". At another party later, someone told me that they'd spent about 10 minutes after I left explaining how bad it is and all the other things I've had to just outright skip because of cats.
So, to sum up, I'm sorry it happened, but it gave me warm fuzzies. Also, I'm still itchy. Bleh.
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