There are moments in life when you fear you may actually be crazy. For me, that moment comes upon the arrival of my UAB. For those not down with the lingo, that would be Unaccompanied Air Baggage, or basically the small amount of stuff that is supposed to get to us quickly and contain key items that we couldn't fit in a suitcase but need/want right away. And in my case, it's all I get for this year.
Frankly, it is more than I need. Every time our crap gets delivered in a new place, I wonder why I have so much crap; make fervent plans to give/throw away said crap; remember that I am too lazy to fulfill these plans; eventually get used to the crap; and then, when it comes time to move again, pack it all up for delivery to a new place where I'll likely want it even less.
Let us review some of the odder contents of my UAB: some of my massive supply of Q-tips; assorted spices, meaning that my entire shipment now smells of garlic powder; a book called Essential Everyday Bengali that will no doubt be extremely useful in the greater Washington metro area; dozens of sweaters that I haven't worn since the last time I had a winter (read: three years ago) and which are now causing me an existential crisis (who am I? Do these sweaters express who I am, or who I was three years ago? Do they even fit, since there was somewhat less of my self and being three years ago? Why am I not napping right now?); about 50 tubes of mascara I will never, ever consume, not even if I diligently paint my lashes an unnatural shade of black every day for the next decade; Balinese sea salt; Thai tiger balm; Scotch tape; a yoga mat; and plenty of good old Bangladeshi grime coating it all.
WHO AM I??? Why did I pack garlic powder? WHY DO I HAVE SUCH BAD FENG SHUI????
Mysteries, all.
On the plus side, I am going to see Chess tonight. I really can't express the joy I'm feeling right now. Also, it's 2.5 hours before curtain and I am still not really sure how we're getting to this theater somewhere off the metro's beaten path...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Books books books
Favorite moment at yesterday's talk with Orhan Pamuk at the National Book Festival: when asked to read from his Nobel lecture, he came across a line he liked and said, "Oh yes, I agree, I wrote that." Generally, he was a riot--far from the morose introvert I imagined from his books.
And then we ate Turkish food with Dhaka friends, part of the Turkish Festival going on now ($25 four-course dinners). So somehow it turned out to be a theme day. And I love a good theme.
Overall, the National Book Festival was great, and I regret not waking up earlier to take in more. But too much fun the night before...
And then we ate Turkish food with Dhaka friends, part of the Turkish Festival going on now ($25 four-course dinners). So somehow it turned out to be a theme day. And I love a good theme.
Overall, the National Book Festival was great, and I regret not waking up earlier to take in more. But too much fun the night before...
Sunday, September 19, 2010
DC days
So here I am, back a week later, knowing slightly more Chinese. I can ask your name, your profession, and how many people you have in your family--but since we haven't yet learned the numbers, I can't actually answer my own question. Good lord, that really is all we can say. It felt like we were learning so much all week...
But nothing I did this week was very exciting compared to James starting A-100! I am so giddy to finally be doing this together. Now it's his turn to handle some of the paperwork and bureaucracy on our behalf :)
Of course, meeting lots of new officers means I have to constantly resist the old "Well, when I was in Dhaka..." routine. Though there is a job in Dhaka on their bid list, so I suppose I will allow myself to dole out Dhaka info as it relates to actually bidding on Dhaka.
I am also having a fantastic--way better than expected--time in DC. I surprisingly don't care about living in a dull area; it's great for my commute and really accessible by metro. Today we spent the day in Old Town Alexandria, which is so frickin' adorable that you want to pinch its cheeks. We toured the Lee-Fendall Home (Lee as in the family of Robert E. Lee, who actually grew up across the street--perfect for our Civil War summer, I guess), which is great if you like your old homes to really smell like old homes.
Otherwise, we hit the opera, the Dhaka crew (partially) reunited, we're catching up on our True Blood, I continue to read the same issue of Bon Appetit I was reading a month ago (though I did just order a 1500-page novel on Amazon against my better judgment), and the process of eating so many avocados that I eventually turn into one marches forward.
But nothing I did this week was very exciting compared to James starting A-100! I am so giddy to finally be doing this together. Now it's his turn to handle some of the paperwork and bureaucracy on our behalf :)
Of course, meeting lots of new officers means I have to constantly resist the old "Well, when I was in Dhaka..." routine. Though there is a job in Dhaka on their bid list, so I suppose I will allow myself to dole out Dhaka info as it relates to actually bidding on Dhaka.
I am also having a fantastic--way better than expected--time in DC. I surprisingly don't care about living in a dull area; it's great for my commute and really accessible by metro. Today we spent the day in Old Town Alexandria, which is so frickin' adorable that you want to pinch its cheeks. We toured the Lee-Fendall Home (Lee as in the family of Robert E. Lee, who actually grew up across the street--perfect for our Civil War summer, I guess), which is great if you like your old homes to really smell like old homes.
Otherwise, we hit the opera, the Dhaka crew (partially) reunited, we're catching up on our True Blood, I continue to read the same issue of Bon Appetit I was reading a month ago (though I did just order a 1500-page novel on Amazon against my better judgment), and the process of eating so many avocados that I eventually turn into one marches forward.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Poetic Sundays: Still not on Sunday
Okay, it's now become less Poetic Sundays and more Poetic Whenever I Feel Like It.
But this was drawn to my attention today, and I remembered, oh yes, it's fabulous.
Riding the Elevator Into the Sky
By Anne Sexton (1975)
As the fireman said:
Don't book a room over the fifth floor
in any hotel in New York.
They have ladders that will reach further
but no one will climb them.
As the New York Times said:
The elevator always seeks out
the floor of the fire
and automatically opens
and won't shut.
These are the warnings
that you must forget
if you're climbing out of yourself.
If you're going to smash into the sky.
Many times I've gone past
the fifth floor,
cranking upward,
but only once
have I gone all the way up.
Sixtieth floor:
small plants and swans bending
into their grave.
Floor two hundred:
mountains with the patience of a cat,
silence wearing its sneakers.
Floor five hundred:
messages and letters centuries old,
birds to drink,
a kitchen of clouds.
Floor six thousand:
the stars,
skeletons on fire,
their arms singing.
And a key,
a very large key,
that opens something —
some useful door —
somewhere —
up there.
But this was drawn to my attention today, and I remembered, oh yes, it's fabulous.
Riding the Elevator Into the Sky
By Anne Sexton (1975)
As the fireman said:
Don't book a room over the fifth floor
in any hotel in New York.
They have ladders that will reach further
but no one will climb them.
As the New York Times said:
The elevator always seeks out
the floor of the fire
and automatically opens
and won't shut.
These are the warnings
that you must forget
if you're climbing out of yourself.
If you're going to smash into the sky.
Many times I've gone past
the fifth floor,
cranking upward,
but only once
have I gone all the way up.
Sixtieth floor:
small plants and swans bending
into their grave.
Floor two hundred:
mountains with the patience of a cat,
silence wearing its sneakers.
Floor five hundred:
messages and letters centuries old,
birds to drink,
a kitchen of clouds.
Floor six thousand:
the stars,
skeletons on fire,
their arms singing.
And a key,
a very large key,
that opens something —
some useful door —
somewhere —
up there.
Back.
I'm climbing in your computer screens, I'm snatchin' your people up...
(No? Read this.)
Back after a lazy end to vacation and a 0-60 start to Mandarin training. Seriously, they don't mess around. We are flying through the basics, and I must say... I LOVE it. I was worried I would get bored by so much FSI time (and perhaps that point will come), but I think I had forgotten how much I really, really enjoy language classes.
Of course, I am not sure why I would forget that, since I used to take language classes as a leisure activity in New York. Note this does not extend to classes of any other sort--life as a professional student made me perpetually cranky--but I get SO excited about a new language that I find it pretty hard to contain myself.
This enthusiasm doesn't really extend to studying, so that's less fun. I have long been aware that I'm not a particularly self-motivated person. Classrooms are fun! They have people in them! Yay! (Can you tell I turn out to be an extrovert in those Myers-Briggs assessments?) My desk at home, however, is a solitary, lonely place (well, James is around, I guess). Boo.
Otherwise, I haven't done much since getting to DC. I got to see some lovely friends from Dhaka (also back this summer) and am super excited to meet up with the Washington-based set of my college friends tonight. Opera tomorrow! No studying tonight! Woot.
(No? Read this.)
Back after a lazy end to vacation and a 0-60 start to Mandarin training. Seriously, they don't mess around. We are flying through the basics, and I must say... I LOVE it. I was worried I would get bored by so much FSI time (and perhaps that point will come), but I think I had forgotten how much I really, really enjoy language classes.
Of course, I am not sure why I would forget that, since I used to take language classes as a leisure activity in New York. Note this does not extend to classes of any other sort--life as a professional student made me perpetually cranky--but I get SO excited about a new language that I find it pretty hard to contain myself.
This enthusiasm doesn't really extend to studying, so that's less fun. I have long been aware that I'm not a particularly self-motivated person. Classrooms are fun! They have people in them! Yay! (Can you tell I turn out to be an extrovert in those Myers-Briggs assessments?) My desk at home, however, is a solitary, lonely place (well, James is around, I guess). Boo.
Otherwise, I haven't done much since getting to DC. I got to see some lovely friends from Dhaka (also back this summer) and am super excited to meet up with the Washington-based set of my college friends tonight. Opera tomorrow! No studying tonight! Woot.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Winding up home leave
We are readying ourselves for the shift soutwards, to Arlington, VA to be exact, where we'll both be in training. My battle against the accumulating scraps of paper is being waged; I should work out and then visit my beloved grandfather in his museum-piece house (nothing has been touched in decades) where he insists on living, secure in his independence even at age 99.
I have been reading a lot this week--life in New Jersey is so quiet! I finished Hotel du Lac, which struck me as a bit fussy, and have now moved on to a book I bought in Toronto, where it is set: Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures by Vincent Lam. It's a series of short stories about a group of medical students in Toronto--very interesting to read a behind-the-scenes look at the medical profession, and so far I like the stories pretty well. Lam is clearly trying to be the medical Jhumpa Lahiri, and he's not there yet, but it's not a bad goal.
Last night we went to a new restaurant, Uproot, that is trying to yank Central New Jersey into the world of haute cuisine. The New York Times (which reviews precious few things in New Jersey) said not to miss it, and I agree. Lovely dinner. If you, too, are stranded in Central NJ, you should definitely make a point of going.
All in all, I continue feeling like I'm back in high school being here in my parents' house this summer. I think next home leave I need a different base so I stop feeling 16.
I have been reading a lot this week--life in New Jersey is so quiet! I finished Hotel du Lac, which struck me as a bit fussy, and have now moved on to a book I bought in Toronto, where it is set: Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures by Vincent Lam. It's a series of short stories about a group of medical students in Toronto--very interesting to read a behind-the-scenes look at the medical profession, and so far I like the stories pretty well. Lam is clearly trying to be the medical Jhumpa Lahiri, and he's not there yet, but it's not a bad goal.
Last night we went to a new restaurant, Uproot, that is trying to yank Central New Jersey into the world of haute cuisine. The New York Times (which reviews precious few things in New Jersey) said not to miss it, and I agree. Lovely dinner. If you, too, are stranded in Central NJ, you should definitely make a point of going.
All in all, I continue feeling like I'm back in high school being here in my parents' house this summer. I think next home leave I need a different base so I stop feeling 16.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Yum and ugh
Yummy dinner: grilled smoked chicken and apple sausage with grainy Dijon mustard; rosemary roasted potatoes; steamed asparagus. Mmmmmmmmm.
Today I made my first visit to Target since returning to the U.S. It was traumatic. I feel like, for most people in the Foreign Service, Target is a gleaming symbol of all we couldn't get overseas; but in New Jersey--the most densely populated state in America--shopping there is just a good way to prompt your descent into madness.
Started Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac last night--the first chapter seems delightful, if a bit wordy.
Today I made my first visit to Target since returning to the U.S. It was traumatic. I feel like, for most people in the Foreign Service, Target is a gleaming symbol of all we couldn't get overseas; but in New Jersey--the most densely populated state in America--shopping there is just a good way to prompt your descent into madness.
Started Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac last night--the first chapter seems delightful, if a bit wordy.
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