Headaaaaaaaaaccccccchhhhhhheee

Things I have done this weekend:

- Had my first iftar of the season

- Went to a party on a roof.

- Worked out--a victory!

- Watched a lot of Mad Men.

- Researched posts I am thinking of bidding. I think Caracas is officially cut.

- Tapped my fingers, groaned, and otherwise expressed my displeasure with our slower-than-usual internet.

- Lunched at Nando's potato wedges yessssssssssssssssssssss.

Now James is at the airport picking up his friend Sydney, our second visitor in Dhaka. I think it's impressive to get two visitors here, especially given that neither is related to us. Other things happening now: Katie battles an epic headache. Aren't you glad I care so much about blogging that I'm writing anyway? On the other hand, I don't think the headache is helping my general profundity level. Not to be confused with my general profanity level, though it is also probably not being helped.

Work has been slow during Ramadan--it is tough to have any events other than iftars, though we have two of those in the works. I've decided I want to buy a new sari to wear them, though I don't want to run up against pre-Eid inflated prices. This is like the season for Christmas shopping back home--everyone buys clothing as gifts for Eid, so all the prices go way up. Those sari-buyer-squeezing jerks!

The neighborhood restaurant

Great article on the little piece of downtown culinary magic that is the Redhead. In my 2.5 weeks back in New York in May, I ate there twice, and I can't wait to go back again--best fried chicken I've ever had. And the soft pretzels... don't even get me started. As the Bruni say, "With its first-come-first-served seating policy and its televisions showing sporting events behind the bar, the Redhead speaks to the moment’s casual ethos. And it underscores the extent to which the East Village has become a center of gravity for young chefs intent on bold flavors. They clearly feed off of one another, a loose network of validation and motivation."

It's a restaurant that personifies the New York I knew--not at all stuffy, free of bankers (at least the lame ones), full of neighborhood charm, good food, and an energy I'm going to spend my whole life looking for somewhere else...

Bidding frenzy

The sharks are in the water, grabbing posts like they're the bloody arms of a ill-fated diver.

Posts Katie hopes to bid high, on the assumption that they are huge and James can likely get a position there as well:




Posts where Katie would loooooove to go and can bid on, but where she despairs of finding a spot for James too:




Yes, it's true, all my impossible dreams lie in Eastern Europe. When my grandmother and grandfather fled a gulag and prisoner-of-war camp, respectively, I bet they never thought I'd fight so hard to get back.

From top to bottom: Beijing, China; London, UK; Mexico City, Mexico; Moscow, Russia; Budapest, Hungary; Sofia, Bulgaria.

The hottest chicks are in Gulshan-1.*

We hit the new Nando's this week. It took over an hour to get there (Gulshan-1) from Baridhara due to crazy rain... I wasn't sure we were going to make it at points, but we persevered. And I am glad we did. The food was better than the Dhanmondi location, I think. And our waitress was a freakin' barrel of monkeys.

A: Could I have a caipirinha? (NOTE: Virgin caipirinha. No vice laws were broken in this post.)
Waitress: Don't ask me! Say, "Get me a caipirinha!"
A, with some gusto: Get me a caipirinha!
Me: Um... get me a Lorenzo berry? [Waitress nods approvingly.]
C: Could I please have a [some other drink with a dumb name I can't remember]?
[Waitress's eyes narrow; the minion has disobeyed.]

* Real Nando's ad to be found in Dhaka.

Paging Mr. Pimm

Note: I hate fame whores. And I feel like I am going to end up knowing more than my fair share of them as time goes on. Half my stupid college class thinks their blog or whatever rules the world, and now my middle school class is getting in on my act. At least the people I knew in high school seem to have some reserve... maybe there's something to be said for tight-lipped WASPs after all.

Sorry, rant.

On to the big news of the day, which is that the bid list is out! I can't really give any impressions of it. It is really, really long, and since we have to figure out what jobs work timing-wise, I still haven't figured out exactly which ones I am allowed to bid on. Eventually I may have a sense of what it's like, but I'm not there yet.

I finished Guest of the Ayatollah, and it was great--really gripping. I think Foreign Service types would enjoy it more than others--the details of the Embassy captives make sense and are actually interesting to us. I can see why someone without that special interest might think it dragged, but I for one couldn't put it down.

We hit Bamboo Shoot last night to say goodbye to Erin--that restaurant continues to be astoundingly good for Dhaka. Crispy fried corn wins, as always... long beans with beef rocked too.

In other excellent news, I love Pimm's cups. The Brits do have a way of getting life right, don't they?

Tomorrow: brunch with friends, tennis with enemies (nah, not true, but I like the parallelism of it), bid list scrutiny, drinks with Mr. Pimm?

Things I am cranky about

1. I want slipcovered couches (green-and-gold-palooza no more!) but don't really feel like going to the store, figuring out what fabric I actually want, buying it (remember, we don't so much use credit cards here, so if I don't have enough cash on me for this several-hundred-dollar purchase, it's back to the drawing board or, more accurately, the ATM machine), dealing with men and their sewing machines taking over my house for a week... this all sounds distinctly not fun. I am CLEARLY no longer in that initial, just-got-to-post-and-I-am-SO-getting-into-organizing-stuff burst of energy.

2. The bid list is not out yet and it is SO mid-to-late August now, people.

3. My nose is still stuffy, even though I'm already more than a week past the peak of this cold.

4. James is sick and therefore also cranky (probably more justifiably so). Two cranky people are crankier than the sum of their parts.

5. I saw a picture of peanut M&Ms on the internet, and now I desperately want some and I DON'T HAVE ANY GAHHHHHHHHH. This is why I am such an easy marketing target.

In which I don't function.

NOT FUNCTIONAL. I have one glass of Sauvignon Blanc and I can't do anything but obsessively read Guests of the Ayatollah.

I did, just now, call the upholsterer. This is an accomplishment of amazing proportions for me, thirteen months in the making. He attempted to come over immediately, but I fended off those advances--we wouldn't want to make that much progress on this project in one night, would we?

But the defense in the trial accusing Katie of not being functional argues that, as of today, all hotel and other reservations have been made for the great Vietnam and Cambodia extravaganza. Woot.

I also dropped off my black pumps to get new tips and dropped off my new (old) map to be framed. V. exciting. I also drooled over this interesting almost-all-green canvas depicting a woman holding a dove. It is sort of Gaugain-esque. Seriously, if I keep showing this much restraint, one day right before I leave I am going to snap and raid an art gallery.

Delights that appear if you google "green painting":

Ah, Warsaw

The New York Times has a 36 Hours in Warsaw feature this week... I know I am going to spend my whole Foreign Service career trying to get back. All my ambitions end at being PAO there--an 01 job. I can quit after that :)

Some stuff that happened

So I wanted to update earlier today, but I couldn't, because yet again some underwater cable got cut in the Bay of Bengal and all internet was out. Sweet. But here I am.

This week has been totally taken over by me obsessively reading Mark Bowden's Guests of the Ayatollah. I didn't live through the Iran hostage crisis, I don't know the twists and turns and the details of it, so it is really suspenseful for me (shhh! Don't tell me what happens). I mean, I know it happened, and went on for a while, but that's about it. So I am getting totally into it. It is pretty scary to read as a Foreign Service Officer. It really makes you think about what this job is, or what it has become over the last few decades.

We had another speaker in town last week, which meant some more schlepping through traffic to all the events. The most memorable one: I am sitting in the front row, and a giant cockroach is frolicking about like he owns the place. Then at some point it starts crawling up someone's leg. I totally want to scream, but that wouldn't be exactly polite to the speaker, so instead I stare on in horror, powerless to avert catastrophe.

Things that are improving my life: the new Nando's opening in Gulshan-1. Yessssssssssss.

Things that are adversely affecting my life: the closing of the French bakery. Noooooooooo.

Tired

I think I am getting sick. Boo. I met the 2am DragonAir flight from Hong Kong twice this week--once when James got back from New York, and once to meet a new person I am sponsoring. That combined with roaming the city at all hours with our visiting speaker (who knew that people would still want to hear about civil-military relations at 10pm, to the point where they keep asking questions and act all wounded when we have to leave?) meant I got a bit worn down. And when I get worn down, my normally stellar immune system curls up into a ball and cries. Until I get sick.

So I think I am getting sick. I am taking zinc lozenges though--I completely swear by them. And getting sick is a good excuse to sit around and be lazy and watch Hindi music videos on Indian MTV all morning. Because they are seriously amazing.

Things I haven't had time to do: get both my pairs of black pumps repaired (the tips are worn down on both pairs at once); frame my new map (of the Prussian Dominions, ca. 1812); drop off dry-cleaning; go to the grocery store to buy some sort of white bean (cannellini or the like) which the Commissary never has for my tortellini salad; and put away the stuff that came in our second HHE shipment.

Notes on a second HHE shipment: not a great idea. If you lived without it for a year, you probably won't be that happy to see it halfway through your tour. Of course, the exception is the piano, which James is very happy to see. Well, maybe the X-box too. But generally, you get the idea.

We watched Waltz with Bashir last night. It is really well done, really moving, pretty depressing, but good. The animation was really neat. And it made it all the more powerful when it switched to video footage.

Rice wrangling

Busy week... we have a speaker in town, so I've been out and about and very little in my office, at least until today. This is a great deal, until you realize you haven't really answered email in five days, and that the monumental pile is going to descend on you at some point, sooner or later.

James is back, which is lovely. Our second HHE shipment also arrived, which I can't really say I am enjoying, though I know James is having a great time playing the piano again. But the piles of law book strewn all around the apartment are not so much making me cheerful.

Actually, never mind. James is annoying me because he is cooking rice wrong and not listening to me. So there, I put it on my blog so the world will know your rice infamy.

Miscellany

My night last night:



In other news, this is the most amazing article of all time:

“Will we give you a refund on a nonrefundable ticket because your granny died unexpectedly?” he asked. “No! Go away. We’re not interested in your sob stories! What part of ‘no refund’ do you not understand?”

MR. O’LEARY runs a tight ship in his office, too. Post-it notes and highlighters are banned. Executives bring in their own pens. To illustrate his commitment to that principle, Mr. O’Leary produced two pens from his pocket, both stolen from hotel rooms.

Mr. O’Leary brushes off the criticism about customer service, pointing to Ryanair’s record of responding to complaints within seven days. Most come from people demanding refunds, who are told to go away. Also, the aggrieved have to complain by fax or letter. If they use e-mail, no one will respond.

“People will say” — here Mr. O’Leary adopted a whiny voice — “ ‘As the Founding Fathers wrote down in the American Constitution, we have the inalienable right to bear arms and send in our complaints by e-mail.’

“No, you bloody don’t! So go away.”

Happy

Sometimes I have moments when I mentally remove myself from where I am and remember that life is awesome.

Seriously, I am 25 and I have everything I want. Sometimes I just have to take a moment, pat myself on the back, and think about how my high school self would have been SO THRILLED with this life. First of all, I am not in high school anymore, so that's a big step forward right there. I got to go to a dream school for college, after all that worrying. I stumbled into the coolest job ever, after all that angst about what to do with myself. And only a few months after all the senior year of high school moping about a future of dying alone and being eaten by a pack of scavenging wolves, I met my future husband first semester of college. And now I'm in Bangladesh and my life is awesome and I have a Marc by Marc Jacobs bag and I never ever have to visit Pingry ever again, and only sometimes have to bear with my mother sending announcements about me into their newsletter.

Life is good.