A Change of Plans: Breaking an Assignment and Finding Another

When we last left off, the four of us were looking forward to our next assignment to Lusaka, Zambia where I'd be Consular Chief in a small section. Okay, truth be told, the non-Tabbies didn't yet know they were ever going to leave their beloved Salvadoran house garden after four years, but at least my husband and I were enthusiastic about the idea. I'd tucked three Zambian guide books (travel, culture, and birds) under the Christmas tree for him. We'd gotten congratulatory messages from friends who knew the country and were excited for us to get to know it, and others who started planning their Zambian vacations. We began receiving welcoming messages from the embassy and questionaires about our housing preferences. We were imagining life in our new city, and were considering options for buying a right-hand drive car. Essentially, it was all systems go on this new destination. I began to negotiate my transfer timing between what's referred to as the "losing post" (San Salvador) and the "gaining post" (Lusaka) for later this summer.  

Meanwhile, something was not sitting well with me. I heard myself dropping bits of unidentified, nagging anxieties into conversations, making light of my concerns by expressing them with a chuckle. I'd gauge my husband's, friends' or coworkers' reactions to see if my fears were off base. I secretly wished someone would say what I was too afraid to say myself: "You don't HAVE to go there, you know."  I considered the odds of some sort of divine intervention making the decision for me.

Was it Zambia? No! We weren't trepidatious about living there at all. We were excited to meet the people and explore the country and region. 

Was it the job? Not entirely. I had only heard the best about the post and people in charge. Great ambassador - I was told I would be very fortunate to work with him and a friend thought we'd get along well. From my interview, I really enjoyed the Deputy Chief of Mission who would be my direct boss and was looking forward to stepping up and being part of the Country Team. 

So why the turning stomach? 

It started almost immediately after receiving my handshake when I began in earnest to research the travel to post. Negotiating the timing of our departure and arrival was a bit contentious, as is often the case, with each post wanting me to stay the longest and arrive the soonest. Balancing this meant most likely we'd be flying from our west coast home leave location to Zambia with the cats, an itinerary of three flights, two of them overnight, and close to 30 hours of travel. I began to imagine the worst case scenario for them during transit and the worst case began to snowball. 

Then came the realization that should I need to come back home for whatever reason, I'd have to repeat that trip (sans cats) all the while juggling my responsibilities as Consular Chief with only one other American officer in the section to handle affairs in my absence. The belt began tightening around my waist. 

Yes, I was getting to the heart of my qualms now. 

We lost my/our mother a year ago very suddenly, but fortunately I was able to get north to see my family with relative ease. When my father died a few years back, we were in DC which made it even easier to catch a direct flight to the west coast a few times over his last six months. Being only a few time zones away made for easy communication, too. In addition, there were two other serious family health issues where forces were mustered to help out. Being in El Salvador left much of this burden to the geographically closest siblings, something I regret. And let's face it, none of us is getting any younger and the chances of wanting or needing to be physically present is only growing. This simply wasn't the time to be half a world away in a stressful, highly responsible position. 

But I'd actively bid on and accepted the position, so now I had to make the best of it, right? In an effort to imagine what life was going to feel like in my new role, I started quizzing friends who are Consular Chiefs in similar-sized sections. "What is the stress load like? Do you have time for family? Are you enjoying the work?" All were kindly supportive, as good friends are, giving me assurances of "Of course you can do it!" I began to psych myself up with a chorus from The Little Engine That Could. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can! All the while, their assurances didn't settle my nerves because I hadn't been asking the right questions. I didn't need an answer to CAN I do it, but do I WANT to do it? Or really, do I NEED to do it? That answer could come only from me. 

So over one weekend, after the drumbeats of my dropped hints were getting louder and louder, I just said the unthinkable out loud: I need to break my assignment to Lusaka. No sooner had I declared this than my husband said he'd support my decision 100 percent. I tried to back-pedal: but our plans, but the guide books, but another adventure in the chapter of me and you, but, but, but... He held firm in his support. 

The instant we agreed, it felt as if I had taken off the tighest, most binding pair of pants and shoes you could imagine. Like that moment when you come home from work, kick off the pinchy shoes, strip naked just steps inside the front door, and pull on your favorite sweats. That's how releived I felt at making this decision. 

Now, it's important to add some context about breaking an assignment.  First, as Foreign Service employees we swear from day one to be worldwide available. To uphold this, there is a strong culture of service, pride in taking one for the team, buck up buttercup this is what we all go through, not everyone can go to Paris, you know...  I don't point this out as an intrinsically derogatory feature of the profession, mind you. We need to be made of sterner stuff to serve around the world, and the harder the post, the greater the (financial) reward. Further, I pride myself on NOT being a whiner. My husband and I adapt well to local environments. We are not motivated by doing just what increases our comfort, or trying to export an American lifestyle to Timbuktu. It's just not us. Plus, keeping committments is a really, really big deal to me. I will put myself out first, before doing so to others.  

Therefore putting myself first took a lot, first to accept and then to enact. I faced the doubts of "Am I not up to the work?" or "We all have had hard times - that's just life, get over it" and the shame of not being willing to simply soldier on. Perhaps these are only my own whispering demons, but they are likely shared by others as well.  

Then I had another realization which has come into sharper focus with each passing decade. Simply put, why accelerate my car towards a destination I don't necessarily want to reach? My new assignment would be a big career step and would likely lead to promotion. But was that really the desired destination? What exactly is the exchange rate for limiting my ability to take care of myself and family, and stressing the hell out of our cats? As is, my career has a maximum life expectancy of eight more years before mandatory retirement. In the end, being mentally and geographically available to those I love is so much more important than the nursing-home bragging rights of saying "...and I retired from the Foreign Service as a mid-level manager..." to a big round of eye rolls from the audience. 

So that's it. I explained my reasoning to those who needed to know and the future boss I was looking forward to working for was just as supportive and understanding as I could've hoped for. My assignment was broken and I was on the market again - for a domestic job this time.  

After some weeks of searching, I believe I found the best fit. The next stop on this adventure will be a familiar one: back to the DC area and the Foreign Service Institute (FSI) where I will be a Deputy Coordinator with the Orientation Division. I will be on the team conducting the six-week "A-100" generalist and specialist orientation courses for all new Foreign Service American employees. I'm really excited about it! It combines everything I naturally gravitate towards: teaching, facilitating conversation, organizing, sharing experiences, mentoring, and feeding the energy of bright shiny pennies as they begin their own new career adventures. And - I'm a direct flight away from family. I can do this, no chest-thumping affirmations required.  This is a two-year assignment, after which, who knows? I would rather cross that bridge as I get there than try to predict where the turns in the road will bring us. 

In the meantime, it feels as if I'm wearing the most elasticy-waistband, softest, brushed cotton pants with fluffy, supportive slippers.  

Now that's a good fit. 

 

10 Years In: Foreign Service Retrospective and Future Thoughts

 Very recently I hit my ten year anniversary in the Foreign Service.  Aside from a 12 year stretch as a riding instructor, this is the longest amount of time I've ever had one job.  

My first thoughts: That was fast! 

My second thoughts: Isn't it time to do something else?

Let me admit that in the past year or two, I've had itchy feet to do something different, as if there were another chapter still in me to be lived.  Some little bit of favorite dessert that I've tucked away in a corner of the fridge for later.  This "something else" has a nebulous shape: just something creative, a life under my own direction with unstructured time to travel, write, photograph, watercolor, tend the garden and pet the cats. Who wouldn't want that? 

In a series of long walks on unending stretches of the Costa del Sol, my husband and I have had some good "what are we going to do with our lives?" navel-picking (his term) conversations. 

Long beaches for long conversations

Of the very few conclusions we reached, which admittedly stands a good chance of being a) forgotten, or b) reconsidered, was that our current life already gives us the opportunity for travel and certainly for immersion in a place that regular tourism doesn't.  (Or at least tourism that we could afford.)  Second, although perhaps this should have been first, is the practical aspect of getting off the government wheel. Frankly, we need to keep saving for our dottage and there's no better way to do that than to keep our heads down and keep going.  

Now that that's decided (although see caveats above about our fickle nature), I've changed my mental pacing on the next ten years, knocking it back a gear from a dash to get onto the next greatest thing, to a steady chug.  More of a slow down and smell the roses sort of mentality, if you will. And you know what? Instead of feeling resigned, I feel more settled, like I don't have to wait to do what I really want, maybe I can start doing it now. 

Therefore, let this anniversary serve as a time to appreciate the best (and some of the worst) of this past decade in the hopes of fueling the next, and as proof that I can get through it and maybe keep on enjoying it along the way. 

Where to start? At the beginning. 

I loved the camaraderie of having two orientation classes: First as a Foreign Service Specialist and then as a Foreign Service Officer and excitement of TWO flag days!

FS Specialist Class - 2011

FS Officer Class "A-100" -2012

And now the moment we've all been waiting for...

Checking out our assigned house/apartment at post for the first time. THIS is the stuff!

Bogota: Now THAT'S a door!

Suburban life in Juarez

Daphne explores the house for the first time. 

Bine ati venit (welcome) to Bucharest's apartment life. 

Virginia apartment for our DC hardship tour.  

Notice the bikes in the living/dining room and mismatched furniture as we furnished the place from second hand stores. 

We love our San Salvador garden and you get used to the concertina wire quickly. 

Arriving at post to meet a great social sponsor who stocked your fridge, collected your pre-shipped boxes of cat food and litter, and took you out to dinner in your new neighborhood.

On the flipside - the social sponsor who promised all of the above and then suddenly had to go away on your arrival day, giving you less than 24 hours' notice that you were essentially on your own.  Yeah, that happened, too. 

Seeing the Embassy, Consulate or office for the first time and finding a campus with spots for outdoor lunches, walking paths, a pool (twice), cafeteria, landscaped grounds and an office with a window.  

Okay - I lie.  I've never had an office with a window, unless you count my visa window.  In fact, my first office, and by that I mean the entire Economic section shared by six people, was a repurposed supply closet.  No, not joking.  

Trying not to panic when your boss asks you to do something and not only are you not sure how to do it, you're very sure you have no idea what s/he is even talking about.  Like arranging for on-tarmac pick-up at an international airport for a VIP. (You can even DO that?) Yes, and there's a weird code name for it, too that I've forgotten. Picture your boss passing your desk on the way out the door and casually saying, "Oh hey, make sure you arrange for a Charlie 10 pick-up, too, 'kay?" 

Hearing some high-level muckety-muck talk about energy security policy and finding myself completely engrossed in the topic even though I'm a consular officer and likely will never have to deal with this, and then realizing he's the said-same muckety-muck for whom I arranged a Charlie 10 pick-up during his VIP visit to my last post.  Suddenly feeling all warm inside that I was part of something bigger than just the piss-ant details of the visit. 

Working on the Summit of the Americas in Cartagena

Watching the presidential motorcade arrive with our embassy local staff and seeing they were as excited about seeing Obama's arrival as I was. 

Getting to explore old-town Cartagena.

Hearing the spontaneous gasp and seeing tears of relief from an immigrant visa applicant after telling him/her that their visa has been approved. Knowing that after years of living undocumented in the United States, now for the first time they can return to their family and job without the daily fear of possibly losing it all. This happened a LOT in Juarez. 

Hearing the spontaneous gasp and seeing tears of shock from an immigrant visa applicant after telling them they were permanently barred from entry because when they were 19 they presented their cousin's U.S. birth certificate to border authorities in order to go shopping in Texas with friends.  Sadly, this also happened more than a few times in Juarez. 

Consulate 4th of July in Juarez with some of the women it was such a pleasure to call coworkers.

Juarez: Life on the X

Bien venidos a Mexico!

Settling into the first few weeks of FSI language class: pens, highlighter and a freshly creased open notebook arranged in front of me, reviewing the class schedule and flipping through the text book.  Feeling excited, optimistic and just a bit anxious about the prospect of realizing that in six months I would be professionally conversant in a language I had heretofore never heard. 

Crying in the FSI bathroom at month 5.5 of language training with a real conviction that I will never be able to pass that %$#@ language exam.

Back at Hogwarts!

Ole' Ben here to remind us why we're here. 

 

Going to work with my husband on our first day in Bucharest. For the first time, his embassy job was perfectly arranged to start upon our arrival. This was a landmark occasion as opposed to the many months' or years' wait of interviews, security clearances, dashed hopes and final resignation of unemployment that so often befall the spouses who agree to join this life to support our careers. 

Being the embassy's Fourth of July celebration MC, on stage with the Romanian Military Band, and presenting the Romanian President and our Ambassador to the crowd in Romanian, that language I had been crying about just two years prior.  Afterwards, kicking off my heels and dangling my feet in the embassy pool, glass of wine in hand, alongside two colleagues in quiet celebration that we'd made it through our second consular tour together and soon would each be headed to different parts of the globe. 

Arcul de Triumf on Romanian National Day

Castelul Peles, Sinaia, Romania

Pomp and ceremony of the 4th of July celebration in our final days in Bucharest

Standing in front of my umpteenth Con-Gen class (the consular officer general training class) to speak to new officers about the slippery slope of consular malfeasance. As the bright, shiny pennies raise their hands with "what if...?" questions, I find I can field them somewhat confidently from the experience I've gained overseas and during my tour within Consular Affairs headquarters. Geez, when did that happen? Wasn't I just a riding instructor a few years back?

So much more fun to see FSI as a teacher than as a student. 

Stepping out of the international airport for the first time and being struck immediately by the tropical humidity and absolute cacaphony of birdsong. Well hello El Salvador, nice to finally meet you!

Observing elections with a local colleague as part of a 15-team mission spread out across the breadth and width of the country. Feeling like a war correspondent as I slipped on the tan vest with "Electoral Observer" embroidered on the breast and hung my photo credentials around my neck. Chatting with other observation teams from around Latin America and comparing notes on what we'd been seeing. Realzing that what we'd been seeing was democracy in action via the peaceful transfer of power. 

Counting the vote in front of party representatives. 

Voter roles and an observer. 

Observer chatting with electoral officials. 

Volcano view over San Salvador.

Fishing village of Los Cobanos.

Over dinner, or the occasional gin and tonic, sharing work stories with my husband and realizing that he has as much consular experience as an family-member employee as I do as an officer. In fact, he knows 95 percent more than I about American Citizen Services and has accepted 100 percent more passports applications than I ever have. Like it or not buddy, it seems you've made yourself quite a career here. 

Not just listening in, but sometimes even contributing, to discussions on topics that later end up in the headlines as policy. 

Realizing that the feeling of "What am I doing here?" on the first day in a new office is getting a little less scary with each new assignment. 

Want to know what I don't love so much? Employee Evaluation Reports, the dreaded annual "EER" upon which our tenure and promotion are based. Once a year work stops as we each sweat over what to include, what to leave out, how to explain stuff while not coming off as an insufferable braggart nor a decorative doormat. ARGH. Everyone hates them, trust me, it's not just me. In fact, I remember a friend saying that when she left the Foreign Service for greener pastures, the first thing on her mind was "NO MORE EERs!"  

But some of the best perks of this job have been the local staff we've gotten to know along the way.  Maybe we've just been incredibly lucky in our assignments, but we've worked with only highly capable, friendly, welcoming, local colleagues who've put up with our thousands of questions and our regular mangling of their language. They've shared insider travel advice and told us the names of birds, trees, or food. They've taught us phrases to get us in trouble and ways to sound less foreign and pointed out cultural differences when we've wondered why things are the way they are. We've had far too many laughs, and we've learned who really runs the show.  

We had a great time with this crew!

Looks like we just might stick it out for another ten.  Well, we'll see...

Language Learning and Childbirth: More in Common Than You'd Think

A few weeks ago, likely at 3:30 a.m. when instead of sleeping, I lay awake in bed obsessively constructing complex sentences in Spanish, I had a sudden realization. This realization then kept me up for the next few hours, or until minutes before my alarm rang. What dawned on me was that learning a foreign language and having a baby are essentially the same process, and neither are to be undertaken lightly or without serious consideration of the consequences. 

Fairly bold statement, eh? Well after completing my fourth language training and testing stint at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI), I feel confident making it.

Before going further, it's only fair that I acknowledge my experience in both categories: 

             Language tests: Eight
             Children: Zero  

Now you may be wondering if I'm qualified to draw this conclusion. I understand. Just consider that I know folks with kids. I've had expectant sisters and friends and, being generally nosy, I've asked them heaps of questions about the whole pregnancy and childbirth thing. Sometimes even without squishing up my face and saying, "Whoa, better you than me!" But not often.

Let me lay out the line of reasoning that brings me to this controversial conclusion. My motivation is not so much to sway anyone from having kids - that's a personal decision - but perhaps to save a colleague from making the life-altering decision of tackling a new language at FSI. After all, it's bidding season and I've seen that twinkle in your eyes as you scan that Projected Vacancy List. But now I deplore you to direct your attention to that far right column, you know the one I mean, where the language requirement and training times are listed for each assignment.  See that 3/3 in Vietnamese?  Before you add Ho Chi Minh City to your bid list, swirl it around in the glass for a minute and appreciate the color.  Note the full-bodied complexity of a tonal language. Visualize the delicate nuances of deciphering -for example - written Georgian, an alphabet so lovely it should be a decorative wall border. Then, as the tannin hits your tongue, spit out that bitter liquid before it's too late. Please hear me out and consider the following before making any rash decisions.  This is what I've learned and how I see it all going down. Let me further my baby-language training comparison for you: 

Phase One: The Romance of the Idea
With romantic images of a baby of your own - you begin to consider the idea.  Maybe you've always wanted one, or perhaps the idea developed over time, it doesn't matter, you find yourself looking at pregnant women and picturing that rosy glow in your own cheeks. You talk it over with your partner (or not - whichever) and come to a conclusion that yes, it'll be a tough for a while, but we'll get through it and it will all be worth it. You start thinking about names and maybe even mentally carve out a space for a nursery in your house or apartment. Bringing a new life into the world - what a noble pursuit!

With romantic images of speaking French/Japanese/Amharic with the locals, sharing a joke with the taxi driver, ordering confidently from the menu, or diving into the economic pages of the Sunday paper to untangle the complexity of the host-country market conditions - you consider a language-designated assignment.  You talk it over with your partner (or not - whichever) and come to a conclusion that yes, it'll be tough for a while, but you'll get through it and it will all be worth it in the end to live in that place. You cruise through a few YouTube videos in the language, chuckle at yourself for not picking out a single familiar word and imagine the time when you'll be discussing climate change among classmates. You think it'd be nice to have 6-10 months, heck even two whole years in some cases, dedicated to just studying a language. What a noble pursuit!

Phase Two: The Commitment
It's official - you/your partner are pregnant! You receive congratulations from friends and family and are relishing the honeymoon period of baby showers, setting up a nursery, trying out names for girls and boys, and buying maternity clothes.  It's all fun and new so far, and strangers stop you in the grocery store to wish you well with "your little miracle." Sure, there is some morning sickness, but you know what's causing it and suffer through it as part of this whole beautiful process. Your new doctor is great; there's good chemistry between you two and she's been so supportive and informative - you're feeling really confident about your choice. Life is good. 

It's official - you/your partner are back at FSI! It's fun to be back, seeing former colleagues in the hallways and catching up over over-priced lunches in the back room of the cafeteria (it's quieter there). With a fresh notebook and new textbook, you grab a picnic table in a shady corner of the campus and start conjugating simple verbs or learning the alphabet.  It's all fun and new at this time and with so many months ahead of you, you're excited about your nascent progress. Despite some morning headaches about making it to class on time or staying up late with homework, you suffer through it and proudly tell folks what you're undertaking. Your new teacher is great; there's really good chemistry between you and the your classmates and your learning consultant has been so supportive and informative - you're feeling really confident about your choice. Life is good.

Phase Three: In The Midst
Ooh, it's getting harder to get up the stairs these days, and damn - sometimes near impossible to pick up that dropped candy bar wrapper.  Your doctor has you on this exercise and diet regime that's supposed to help with some of your complaints, but really, you just need a solid night's sleep!  She just doesn't seem to understand that. Sometimes what you really want is just some sympathy, and puhleeze, no more stories from friends about how their pregnancies were such a breeze, especially their second/third/fourth one. Ha, as if! You're not dumb enough to go through THIS again. Finally, you secretly wish these last few months would be over and done with. What were we thinking?

Ooh, it's getting harder to summon up the energy to get to the language lab these days. And you know you're supposed to spend three hours in self-study each day, but when that early-release day comes around - just getting to the shuttle so you can crash by the pool for a mid-afternoon nap is all you can muster.  Your teacher has assigned a ton of homework, but you know that what would really help you learn this ridiculously complex, one-country language would just be a decent night's sleep.  He just doesn't understand that. Heck he already speaks the language, how could he? Oh, and puhleeze, you can't stomach another story about that friend-of-a-friend who listened to some great podcast each day and magically got a 4/4. Ha, as if! You secretly wish you had bid on an English-speaking post instead.  What were we thinking?

Phase Four: Bringing It Home
It's getting near the end. The ladies in your prenatal class have been heading to the hospital one by one, but you've still got a few weeks left.  Sometimes they bring their little bundles of joy back to the class to show off and gloat so the group can ooh and ahh. They give you the, "I just know you'll be fine!" rah-rah that only one who is on the other side of a horrible event such as childbirth can give. Don't they realize you still have to push this damn thing out, and frankly, you're kind of freaked out about it all? Bitches. You want to change places with that nice doctor's office receptionist; at least she can tie her own shoes. Why didn't we just adopt?

It's getting near the end. The other students in your class have been heading up to the language testing suite one by one, but you've still got a few weeks left.  Sometimes they come by the classroom after their exams to show off and gloat  share the good news about their passing scores. They give you the "I just know you'll do well, too!" rah-rah that only one who is on the other side of a horrible event like an End of Training Language Exam can give. Don't they realize that you still have to get through the "speaking at length" part (and they KNOW you have a phobia about that), plus what if you get a poem or a fairy tale to interpret?! You don't even understand those IN ENGLISH! Frankly, you're kind of freaked out about it all. Bitches. You see the cafeteria lady, all smiles and no worries and wonder if you could just have her job instead?

Phase Five: It's All Over
Life is beautiful.  You and your bundle of joy, love and life are home.  Yeah, you're tired - bone tired - but each midnight wake-up brings you closer to your little one.  Everything was worth it, but wait - what are you even talking about - you can't even remember the moans and groans of the whole pregnancy and birth thing.  Yeah, simple trips to the bathroom remind you, but showing to the world the most beautiful newborn your friends and family have ever seen is salve on the wound. You even find time to graciously stop by to see those supportive friends at your Prenatal Class - won't they be excited for you in their final weeks! Ah, they'll do great...

Life is beautiful.  Not only is the exam OVER, but you've waited the requisite 24-30 hours to receive your results. And what beautiful results they are, the culmination of your months of selfless toiling towards this goal. Everything was worth it: the endless hours each evening of homework, the two-inch stack of rubber-banded flashcards, the movies with the subtitles turned off (for the first half hour at least). You did it. You even find time to graciously stop by your classroom to lend helpful encouragement to that last classmate still studying away.  Won't she be excited to hear your results! Ah, she'll do great...  

Phase Six: One Year Later
The little one is crawling easily across the living room floor and knows - so confidently- how to say "No!" and "Uh-oh!"  Stretch marks have faded and developmental milestones are being checked off one by one and parenting, sure it's tiring, but it's also a daily joy. The thoughts of another little one, ya' know because YOU loved having siblings, starts crossing your mind. Wouldn't it be great if it were a boy/girl to make a set? You could even go back to that great Prenatal Class! Doesn't hurt to consider it, right...?

You're doing well at your post, and confidently greet your neighbor in the elevator in that language and can even handle that awkward chit-chat with the market cashier. You've tossed out your flashcards and linguistic milestones are being checked off one by one. Sure it can be tiring, and it's a relief to break into English when you can, but you're getting by. You've even had that interesting conversation with more than one taxi driver.  Bidding season starts in a few months and you've been eyeing the Projected Vacancies List.  Wow, lots of options! None using the language you've learned, but hey, wouldn't it be cool to live in Armenia/Cambodia/Bolivia?  Ah, time at FSI again to catch up with old colleagues and enjoy the campus. I hope that nice cafeteria lady is there still. Doesn't hurt to consider it, right...?

RAM - the key to speaking a new language

Okay, I imagine you're pretty tired of hearing about language training by now. Trust me, I understand, because I'm equally tired of thinking about it. And by thinking about it, I mean, "It's 3:52 am and I can't get back to sleep because my brain is furiously creating sentences in Romanian and trying to untangle tricky (or even simple) verb-subject-pronoun-blah-blah constructions... Argh!!"

But when I'm not obsessing over how to say something, I'm equally obsessing over why it's so hard to simply swap out one set of words for another to convey a thought. Because really, that's all it is, right?  

Yesterday, I figured it out and here's why:

It's all about RAM and how many programs one's brain can run at once.  

Let me illustrate.  In class each day - somehow, either organically or via a list of "topical topics" - we begin to discuss a particular subject.  Today, it was the pros and cons of Uber, which then morphed into the phenomenon of fear of change and then the new vs. old ways of doing anything etc... It was a very natural conversation flow, to be honest. But - in order to do all this in a new language, the user must be aware of the following system requirements:

• First, you have to run the "What Is My Opinion On This Topic?" program.  Keeping in mind how much you may/may not know/care about the topic; how much you have recently heard on 60 Minutes or this morning's NPR broadcast; and combined with a sensitivity to your colleagues'/teacher's particular political/social/religious beliefs so as not to offend, and further shaded with the desire not to sound TOO stupid. You may recognize this program already as (for most of us) it is standard installation during childhood, regardless of language. Unfortunately, it takes up a LOT of hard drive space! Although this program runs constantly in the background, it isn't without its flaws and is known to crash mid-sentence, leaving the user jiggling the mouse and wondering why the screen went blue. These crashes can occur in even the most basic of settings, and users have reported that it is most susceptible to failure when run in the Simple Polite Chit-Chat mode.  

• Simultaneously, you must log into Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0 which is a fussy program that requires daily updating. I seem to forget my password, especially on Monday mornings when I haven't used the program in a few days. I'm currently running the Romanian 2+ version, but it frequently crashes and leaves me with only Romanian 1.0, or even worse, sometimes I'm stuck using an antique copy of Romanian-Spanish 1.5. This program is supposed to have a great search feature that lets my brain type in any word, take for example "proud", and come up with "mandru." But it's quite buggy and frequently offers me "murdar" ("dirty") instead, which can lead to listener confusion.  Because it needs constant updating, this program often fails to interact with "What Is My Opinion On This Topic?", leaving the user stranded and relying on the default program, English 5.0. 

• There is also a very complex program that is sold alongside Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0. It's called Grammar Pack and it also demands constant updating.  While technically you don't have to install it, but to be to talk difficult very, so it's heavily recommended. Grammar Pack takes up tons of processing space and really slows down the system.  It runs in the background, but not seamlessly until the user has at least Foreign Language 4.0 fully functional. Unfortunately, the earlier versions jam up the processing quite a bit, as the program decides whether a word is masculine, feminine or neuter; runs the Irregular Verb cross-check; looks for noun-adjective agreement, references the accusative vs. dative vs. genitive data tables, and - if you're lucky enough to have the extra byte space -  presents the response in the Correct Pronunciation font. 

As you can imagine, which each of these dense programs running, the user is commonly left endlessly buffering, or with only the spinning wheel icon, each are inevitable outcomes particularly when they've been installed onto the following devices: Brain 45+, Lack of Sleep Brain or Young Children at Home Brain.  

Be advised that users who may have been exposed to the notorious Test Anxiety or Fear of Looking Foolish viruses will see greatly decreased performance in all of the above processing, and tech support should be contacted at once to eradicate these parasitic scripts. 

In summary, users have reported that to take full advantage of the benefits of Foreign Language 1.0 - 5.0, it's critical to that your system has sufficient RAM to simultaneously run all of the above products.  With practice, the user will be able to flip from one to the next in nano-seconds all the while maintaining the Composure drive and its Sweat Control upgrade.  

(The latter is optional.)

Learning Romanian: Nine Weeks In

Welcome to my life in the Romanian language. Here is what nine weeks looks like:

We're improving each week, little by little. We're learning how one connects two verbs, how to say sentences in the past and a little in the future.  I can say what I want, hope, and believe, too.  We (my husband and I) study a lot and we use many different methods to learn. For example, we watch Romanian movies, listen to Bucharest radio stations, read news articles and we have many conversations in class.  Now there are only women in my class, so on Friday, we looked at magazines and learned how to describe people, colors and clothing. 

I practice saying things in short sentences so that I don't go into a corner. It's easy to go into a corner and not have enough words to escape.  Last Thursday, I had my first evaluation. I talked about my visit to the countryside to see a historic town and the Appalachian Trail last weekend. I said I like being in nature. We talked about a volcano in Chile and climate change, and how it seems like the American Dream these days is just to buy more things, expensive things. I don't agree with that!  When I finished talking and reading, the lady said I was about a level 2/2. That means that I can talk about familiar things, I can give my opinion and I don't bother the native listener tooooo much. Yay! In August, I need to be a level 3/3, so there is still a lot to learn, but I think I'm learning well.  

Last week when I was on the bus, I was reading my class notes when suddenly the woman behind me asked if I spoke Romanian.  She was from Bucharest - what a surprise! I was happy that day because I had received the good result on my evaluation. But when I spoke with this woman - I forgot so many words! Ayyyy....  She was the first Romanian who I have talked to outside the classroom.  I was embarrassed and wanted to say more.  All my friends at FSI say that they don't like to chat with their teachers outside of the classroom because they forget the easy words and appear stupid.  I understand well; it is very common!

On Monday, we have a new student. He is the Consul General in Bucharest and he is learning Romanian, too.  We have a new Ambassador, too, but he is learning alone with a private teacher.  Romania is happy now because the Embassy has a new American Ambassador. Well, he is the "Ambassador-designate" because he is not yet confirmed by the Congress. We hope he goes to Bucharest soon. 

OK, that is all I can say now.  Thank you! Here are some nice pictures of spring. It is very pretty here in spring. Until soon,

Harper's Ferry, WV flowerpot

National Arboretum, DC

Tidal Basin Cherry Blossom Festival

Beautiful blossoms

Learning Romanian: Two Weeks In

Hello! It's me again. Welcome! Good day! How are you? I am fine, thank you. Glad to be here. Glad to meet you.

We are in Virginia. We are now students. We go to class every day. We understand a little Romanian now. There are five students in the class. There is one teacher; she is Romanian.  My husband is not in class with me. My husband is in class with Romanian man teacher. 

The weather now is good, but it is not yet spring. There is still snow, there are no flowers. Thursday I do not go to class because of very much snow. There are clouds and sun. On the weekend there is a lot of sun, fantastic! We go to the store, we go to the park. Very good!

The cats are at home. The cats are well, thank you. And your cat? My cat is on the sofa, next to the lamp.  The lamp is on the table, next to the book. There are many books of the Romanian language on the table. 

We are Americans: I am an American woman, my husband is an American man. We are from Washington and in August we go to Romania. We go by plane. We do not go by train. We go to Romania to the city of Bucharest. I am a vice consul at the American Embassy in Bucharest. Romania is very beautiful. Summer has much sun and winter has much snow. 

Last night we have soup and we have Romanian movie. Very interesting, thank you! Tonight we have chicken, beer and water. Morning, I have tea and bread. I go to class. That is life!

See you tomorrow!
Thank you!
Goodbye!

Exito!

Spanish definition of "exito" = success.

Spanglish definition of "exito" = the way out, a way to leave somewhere* 

Therefore, I'm happy to note the equation: exito = exito

Yup, the 3/3 is in the can. More than just the culmination of over a year of Spanish training and immersion, this also means that I'll be off language probation, a requisite for making tenure as a FS Officer and being able to keep my job. Therefore, the relief is enormous.

Honestly, most of the test is a blur, and the details are protected under the "don't tell anyone" clause I had to sign before stepping into the testing chamber, I mean, suite. However, I can offer some general impressions:

In retrospect, I spoke to about 75% of my abilities, with the other 25% swept out the window in a wave of adrenaline and nervous chattering. I think this is normal, as it seems a rare few of us perform better than normal under one-shot-at-the-goal pressure. Bunches of silly errors went unnoticed by me, and the testers were kind enough not to visibly cringe as I made them (but clearly noted them in our post-test review). Other times, I self-corrected or found second or third ways to say what I was stumbling for. They gave me credit for that under the umbrella of "you can make yourself be understood," which was kind. Fortunately, my nervous-talking-thing also played a somewhat positive role, as the testers told me they enjoyed my energy and enthusiasm and the fact that I really wanted to make myself understood. Yes, I do! Thank you for noticing that, kind tester guys. 

By the time I got to the reading portion, fatigue was setting in was making it hard to focus my eyes and the pages were getting a bit blurry. (Oh, by the way, this has nothing to do with being over 40. Nope, nothing at all, so just stop that crazy talk right now, 'kay?) Besides, I'm kind of a "big picture" gal, meaning, for example I may remember that I saw a bunch of friends at lunch and they seemed happy. Don't ask me to name each one, or who was wearing the blue sweater, Officer. I like to refer to my memory and understanding of what I perceive as "impressionistic." But for the reading section, they are looking for more, shall we say, pointillism? We have to note not only the main gist of the piece we're reading: "The author writes about having lunch with friends," but also all the supporting details:

"One was eating soup, but she didn't seem to like it and tried to pass it on to someone else. There was also a man in his early 30s who was eating a greasy pizza, and while he was enjoying it, it was obvious that he was feeling a deep sense of guilt for not having ordered a salad instead. This was evident by the furrow of his brow and his occasional glancing around the table to compare his lunch to what others had chosen. A tone of general conviviality was present, as the conversation was lighthearted and exhibited occasional bursts of laughter or good-natured teasing among those seated at the table."  

See what I mean? 

After giving my big-picture regurgitation, they then asked for this level of detail, and that was tough. Because you can't use the same words that the author uses; you have to put them into your own words - in English, thankfully. So "friends having lunch" becomes, "a casual group of peers, perhaps neighbors or coworkers, are sharing a noontime meal." Paragraph by paragraph, this went on for at least an hour. 

After the reading section, the examiners released the victim, uh, me to the waiting room to, well, wait. And wait. One woman was told that after quite a wait, they would email her at the end of the day with the results. My guess was that they were having to review the tape (yes, it's recorded) to come to a conclusion. Poor thing. My wait was only about ten minutes, fortunately, and then they ushered me back into the room for the results. I saw their noted score on the page before they could tell it to me and it was all I could do to keep from kissing them, or crying. I imagine crying frequently happens in these rooms; and I doubt they'd have been too surprised. 

So that's that. I celebrated with homemade cookies from my classmate. She had written a congratulations message on the baggie even before hearing the results, and promised that she didn't have a consolation baggie stashed away in her purse somewhere. 

We'll point the car for the border late next week after completing our pack-out and the lengthy check-out process from FSI. Then I have to say goodbye to friends and teachers and Hogwarts.

Yikes - it's all coming.

*You know I just made this up, right? I don't think there is a Spanglish dictionary. Yet.

Next: The Long Drive South

Spanish Class: Part 43A

The last time we chatted, I was nervous about my uncontrolled, spinning descent to earth via my Spanish language parachute (or lack of). To be fair and balanced in my reporting of FSI language training, I thought I'd write about the opposite swing of this linguistic pendulum.

I'm loving my Spanish class now. Yup, I've said it, and have probably cursed myself in the process. We have a new teacher as of this week, and it's not that I didn't like the others - because I did, really! - but this new one combines enough structure to let us feel like we're not meandering, with regular reinforcement of the lessons we're learning and enough correction so that we understand our errors without being humiliated and shamed into not wanting to open our mouths. I'm using "our" and "we" here because in conversation with my two other classmates (#3 went off to post last week), I learned that they feel the same way. He set the bar on day one by writing on the board that two words no longer existed: "cosa" (thing) and "dinero" (money). 

What's the matter with these words? They're either extremely lazy or inaccurate and lazy.
How many times have you said, "Can you hand me that thing?" "There's this thing that I've been thinking of doing," "That thing in the Middle East that has been in the news lately."  When you really need to be learning to say: pencil sharpener, trip to the museum and ongoing geopolitical warfare. 

What's the matter with "dinero" you ask? Well, it depends on the situation. Remember, we're diplomats in language training. We're not going to talk about how the USG gives dinero to Sudan, but rather "monetary assistance," "fiscal support," or "humanitarian aid." Dinero you can give to your ten-year-old for their allowance, but to state that the USG gave dinero to Kosovo, well now you're insinuating something a bit unethical. 

After he laid down this law, we (the class, of our own volition) added "problema" to the list (I really don't need to translate that, do I?). Because how Level 3 Spanish does it sound to say that Israel has a problema with their neighbors? 

Suffice it to say that we're learning to advance our vocabulary by replacing old, tired nouns and verbs with more subtle and accurate ones. I feel like I'm gaining traction in my language acquisition (see - I didn't just say "learning new stuff"!) and I wanted to share that there are indeed, precious few perhaps, times of confidence and growth. 

And he's giving us good insight into the methods (I didn't say tricks and traps!) that the language examiners use to gauge our skills. I'm all for that!

I'll sign off for now, feeling like I have a clear view of the horizon and a steady descent to earth. If you're lost with that last sentence, please read previous post.

Nos vemos!

PS And it's not just me -  please read my A-100 classmate's version of his language training.

Points of Pride

It feels like I've noted a whole slew of milestones reached over the past year and a half of this blog, but I get to tell you about one more, and it might be my favorite. 
On Wednesday, along with 23 classmates, I graduated from ConGen! 

This means we each successfully completed (with 100% attendance required) six weeks of intensive study for our assignments as Consular Officers. I have a dandy certificate to prove it, a head full of FAM references and binders full of notes, but more than that, I have (now, really!) finally achieved what has kept me motivated since May 2009 when I first heard of what a Consular Officer was. Through an entire summer dedicated to preparing for my first FS Officer's Test, to the disappointment of not making it all the way through the hiring process on the first try, to the excitement of going to my first assignment as an OMS - the spot on the horizon I've always kept in focus has been this job. 

So yesterday was a personal celebration for me. As my first day without an FSI class to attend, I spent part of it in Arlington National Cemetery in quiet reflection. Under brilliant blue skies and crisp early-autumn sunshine, I walked through the rows of headstones and statues and took in the perfect view of DC by myself. Being in that setting reminded me of the importance of service and of creating a life whose focus is outwards, not inwards. Naturally I can't compare my potential service or sacrifice to that of those memorialized at Arlington, but I am proud that it's something, that it's what I can do now. 

To top it off, we just learned that on September 22nd, our A-100 class list was sent to the Senate for Presidential Nomination. To excerpt the Library of Congress website:

Presidential Nominations
112th Congress (2011 - 2012)
PN1880-112

Legislative Actions

Floor Action: September 10, 2012 - Received in the Senate and referred to the Committee on Foreign Relations.

Floor Action: September 22, 2012 - Senate Committee on Foreign Relations discharged by Unanimous Consent.

Floor Action: September 22, 2012 - Confirmed by the Senate by Voice Vote.

I'm not entirely sure what else comes next in the process, but just to know that my name was in some way passing through Congress, well - I think that's pretty cool. 

And today the 169th A-100 class will have their Flag Day, and I will be in the back of the room cheering them on. There should be a few new Ciudad Juarez colleagues receiving their tiny Mexican flags, so I plan to be there to welcome them in, just as I was received on my own Flag Day almost two months ago. Each week, more of my classmates head for the airports and we're already receiving word back from colleagues in Saudi Arabia, Mali, NYC and Paraguay. While we're having lunch in the FSI cafeteria, they're out sinking their teeth into the meat of the work that we're still learning about. By the time I start my Spanish classes, some of my ConGen friends will already be in their interview windows, putting all of our training to work. 

To top it off, my husband was granted a spot in his own ConGen course, and just one week into it is now saying things like, "I'd like to, but I've got homework and case studies to work on today..." when we start making weekend plans. We hope that this training will set him up for a job inside the Consulate, but there are no guarantees. The security and economic situation in Juarez isn't as favorable for work on the local economy as it was in Bogota, so we're hoping this will be a good avenue for him. And who knows - maybe he will be so enthralled with the subject matter that he'll consider making it a career, too?  

Just a bit of sentimental pride to share with you all today. Once in a while I think it's important to slow down and really taste the tangerine.