Many, Many Flag Days: A Year in Foreign Service Orientation

 Two hundred and thirty new State Department employees sit uncomfortably close together in a large auditorium. They're assembled in three large blocks of chairs, separated by two aisles leading to a low stage in front of the room. Seated behind them, also snug in rows of chairs, are two guests for each new hire. In total, that's nearly 700 people dressed in graduation-level formality. It's August in northern Virginia and some are cooling themselves with American flag-themed paper fans as the auditorium's A/C strains to keep the room habitable. Or it's February and all arrived in heavy coats and winter shoes. Or for the fortunate, it's May or October and they're comfortable. Either way, the invited spouses, siblings, parents, children, and friends wouldn't miss witnessing this day when new Foreign Service professionals have their misty horizons, full of possibilities, dreams, and what-ifs, come into undeniably clear focus. By extension for many of the guests, their own lives are about to take the same turn. Seated or standing along the edges of the auditorium are Orientation staff - people like me who have been shepherding the students over the past five weeks through the rigorous Foreign Service Orientation course. Also lining the walls are the students' Career Development Officers (CDOs) who have acted as agents for the class members. Over the first ten days of Orientation, the CDOs met with their clients as they took on the task of aligning available assignments and Department staffing priorities, with career wish lists, must-haves, and red lines. 

Today, Flag Day, all will be revealed. 

Photo grabbed from a FS professional's blog (thank you) written in 2010. We still use these flag holders 14 years later and lemme tell you it's a LOT harder to keep them from spilling onto the floor than one would imagine. 

After a Department official and the selected class speaker deliver their remarks and step down from the podium, the main event begins. The announcer, someone with the unenviable job of reading out over 200 assignments in clear, measured voice, enunciating Ouagadougou, Podgorica and Antananarivo as easily as Toronto, adjusts the microphone and begins. The auditorium falls silent save for a baby's squawk from the back of the room - it's okay, it's a family affair. The students, some with ears pricked towards the speaker and eyes focused forward, some dropping their gaze to their laps to blur their surroundings or perhaps brace for impact, wait for their names to be called. The country flags, city names, and job titles are projected one by one onto a huge screen at the front of the auditorium. One Orientation staff member stands at a lectern to the side of the stage, controlling the painstakingly created presentation. With a steady, but undoubtedly cramping index finger, they advance the presentation in synch with the announcements, four clicks per assignment, 920 clicks total.

A flag appears on the screen - some easier to recognize than others - and a mixture of oohs and ahhs rises from the audience. 

Tirana, Albania

Human Resources Officer

(Name)

A student from somewhere in the middle row jumps to their feet and makes their way to the center aisle, stepping across seated colleagues, usually smiling, but just as often blank-faced as their bodies react with movement before their brains process the meaning of it all. They arrive at the front of the auditorium where they receive the tiny flag of their assigned country or U.S. state, shake hands, pause only a beat for the official photographer, and then make their way to the back of the auditorium past staff lining the walls, accepting hugs, high-fives, congratulations, or just smiles and claps. Sometimes the CDOs get passing thank yous and little flag waves from those assigned to "high bid" (favorite) postings, but more often the students cruise by, just trying to remember where they're supposed to walk. Behind their dazed looks their minds are reconfiguring their lives as they knew them just minutes before. Some turn the wrong way in the auditorium, and with a quick but gentle hand on a shoulder, Orientation staff redirect them to the right track. At the back of the auditorium they pose for more photos with their class mentors in front of a formal backdrop of U.S. and State Department flags. The class mentors, senior Department officers, are excited to be at this culminating event after having shared their time, personal and professional greatest hits, and career guidance with the class over the preceding weeks. The adrenaline subsiding, they then return one by one to their seats to cheer on their classmates. 

Some consider Flag Day to be Foreign Service hazing given the high stakes and potential for public expressions of joy, disappointment, or shock - both positive and negative - in front of over 600 people. To others, Flag Days are career highlights. Either way, even years or decades later, everyone can tell a Flag Day story, whether it was theirs or another's.  

For me, each Flag Day refuels my enthusiasm for my work. The ceremonies water my internal daisy, its petals drooping and leaves wilted by the minutiae, deadlines, bureaucracy, and continual decision making and second-guessing to get things just-right that occupy my days. There are times when all I want to be responsible for is myself; my schedule driven purely by personal inspiration, the results judged only by me. Thirteen years into this career with retirement teasing me from the horizon, these times of wishing I could just go weed a pea patch all day are hitting me with increasing frequency. 

But then I turn my focus back to those students in that auditorium. I rewind the film a bit more to the start of my time working in Orientation. A montage of faces and names scrolls across the screen in my mind, a year's worth of new colleagues and friends. Beyond the visual, I also hear their voices and replay snippets of personal stories: their motivations and aspirations for this career and their earnest questions and commentary about the road ahead we all shared in the classroom. More than just watering my daisy, the time spent absorbing our newest colleagues' energy, enthusiasm, capability, and genuine optimism for this career revives that flower so that each morning I can once again stuff my lunch bag, tea thermos, laptop (and charger!), and spiral-bound to-do lists into a few shoulder bags and head out the door to face another day. After all, I've got my own bidding and assignment season coming soon and with it the inevitable spinning of the giant wheel of possibilities. Feeling animated, I conclude that heck, one more overseas tour will be exciting, just think of the adventures we'll have and stories we'll tell. I step outside; the mornings are still fresh; the birds singing their little hearts out in the trees and the magnolias so scented I'm certain I've walked into the wake of a perfumed woman. It's a beautiful day.

Flag Day Part 6: Our Next Tour

Bids have been cast, decisions made, handshakes offered and accepted and for many of us, the latest bidding season has come to a close.  Although there is only one true Flag Day at the start of our careers, I still like to think of the day we get the bureau's handshake email notifying us of our next assignment as Flag Day. Even though it arrives unceremoniously in an email, the event still forever changes the trajectories of our lives and careers and therefore should be given due respect. 

Therefore, I announce the sixth flag to proudly hang in our Hall of Flags (i.e. the sunporch) will be:

 

Not looking familiar?  Try searching for "flags of the world" and scroll alphabetically through the list.  Don't worry; I'll wait.  Keep scrolling.  You'll find it second to last on the list, just before its neighbor Zimbabwe.

Yup - Zambia here we come!  

Lusaka, Zambia to be precise.  My next assignment will be the Consular Chief at our embassy in the capital city Lusaka.  To your next question -  what the heck is a Consular Chief?  Is it the Consul General? Well, no it's not. In a small consular section like Lusaka's, the role is called Consular Chief.  I'll be working with a staff of one (or hopefully two) other American employees and four locally employed Zambian staff. That's six or seven of us total.  In comparison with my first tour in Ciudad Juarez where I was one of 48 (interchangeable) entry level officers each responsible for a very thin slice of the pie, now I'll be running the section and sitting on the Ambassador's weekly Country Team meeting.  My pie slice just got a lot bigger and I'm waiting to start feeling hungry. 

It's a good assignment and we are very excited to be headed there.  I'm particularly grateful to have a tangible spot on the horizon towards which to orient the next eight or nine months. During bidding, I'd heard only positive reviews from friends about the country and my husband and I are starting to learn about the country to begin picturing ourselves in these new lives.  

Let's start with a few fun Zambia facts and how those might translate to our lives:

• While English is the official language, there are 72 spoken languages stemming from the Bantu language family. Bemba and Nyanja are the predominant ones, and we'll hear Nyanja in the capital. 
• Translation: No FSI language training. Zikomo kwa ine!

• Zambia is roughly the size of Texas, Maryland, and Vermont combined.  Or the size of Ukraine, Greece, and Montenegro combined.  Hmmm, those are odd comparisons.  How about this even weirder map comparison that makes Zambia look disturbingly like the United States' sonagram:

• Translation: It's a big country with long distances to drive to go see the cool stuff we'll want to see.  No more Salvadoran day trip decisions: 45 minutes to the beach or 90 minutes to the mountains? More like three hours to "Are we there yet?"

• A few traditional Zambian foods: 
• Nshima (corn meal like grits or polenta) 
• Ifinkubala (mopane worms/caterpillars) 
• Kapenta (dried sardines)
• Samp (coarser corn meal, more like hominy)
• Ifisashi (general term for stewed greens mixed with ground peanuts)
• Translation: I will not be eating Ifinkubala. Sorry. 

• There are some really awesome things to see in Zambia: 
• Victoria Falls!  
• Game reserves! 
• Camping in game reserves!
• Canoeing with hippos on the Zambezi! (We're in the canoe, they're in the river - at least that's what I'm assuming.  Hmmm...)
• Translation: Choose your own adventure and danger level.

Petting friendly cheetahs - definitely acceptable danger level. 

Sitting in the water at the precipice of Victoria Falls - 100 percent unacceptable danger level, but that's just me.  This does give me a glimpse of some of my future American Citizen Services clients.  Good to know. 

• We'll live in a house with a big yard, maybe even a pool.
• Translation: Cats will continue to live in the style to which they have been accostomed in El Salvador. I'm picturing weekend mornings on the veranda curled onto a ratan couch, a linen-lined tea tray within reach, watching the cats chase butterflies across the manicured lawn.

Okay, this house is not going to happen, but a girl can dream, no?  

We did hear that some houses allow residents to keep chickens or even goats. 

On second thought, chickens attract snakes and goats attract goat stew.  Hmmm...

Hey, we can have flowers and fruit trees!

So that's where we are now.  It's fun to start trying on the new life, imagining that in a year we'll be saying things like, "Hey, I'm popping down to the Abo Abbas, can I get you some horned melon?" Already my husband bought two new cots and is eyeing a tent big enough to put them in.  His research on camping in game parks brought about a conversation I didn't think we'd have: "Yeah, so they say not to worry about the elephants as they'll generally avoid your tent and if they do come close, they're careful about stepping over the lines.  Apparently it's the hyenas we have to be wary of as they'll carry away anything we leave outside.  And if we wake up with a snake curled up next to us - not to worry, it's just trying to keep warm.  Just give it a poke and it'll be on its way." 

You may notice that all my day dreaming and preparation seems to involve the life and not so much the work. Preparing for the job happens in the middle-of-the-night-wide-awake hours.  I will be taking a big step up in responsibility and am wondering how that suit might fit.  I'm not motivated by power or more responsibility as many others are.  I'd rather wait in the wings and cheer that person on, truth be told.  But it's coming, so all I can do is my best when the time comes.  And whisper to myself, "I can do hard things. I can do hard things."

Meanwhile, I'll picture that wide, shady veranda and wonder what a cheetah's purr sounds like as I run my fingers through its soft fur. 

Who's coming to visit?

Flag Day - Part Three!

I'm not sure if I can officially call this a "Flag Day" as there were really no flags, no ceremony, no auditorium, and no family watching and holding their breath. But to me receiving an onward assignment will always be Flag Day, and is probably in the top three reasons why I joined the Foreign Service to begin with: the thrill of wondering, waiting, imagining and finally knowing where the adventure will take us next.

On Monday we hadn't heard any news. That's to be expected after a long holiday weekend, we all said. "We all" refers to the eight other winter bidders with me here in Juarez.  When Tuesday morning rolled around, we'd already deflated our expectations of hearing until maybe Wednesday and were back to concentrating only on our interviews.  Until 10:00 a.m., that is. I don't know how Washington does it, but the CDOs (Career Development Officers) have some magical way of simultaneously sending hundred(s) of individual assignment emails.  They don't send the messages one at a time, or in one message with a long list that one has to frantically scroll and scan through.  Instead, in the same instant we all get our personal messages. I had already planned with my husband that as soon as I saw the message from my CDO come into the inbox, I would forward it to him and then walk over to his section where we could open it together.  Luckily I had just finished an interview and was about to pick a new case up when I saw the message arrive. I opened my Outlook to send it to my husband and in the process, my eyes dropped to the one single line at the top of the message announcing our new assignment.  I gasped (just a little), smiled, and then leaned back in my chair to see my coworker at the next window with the same little smile. Very quietly (we're the only two winter bidders in our interviewing section) we gave each other our news and a hug. 

I then went to find my husband to read the message with him.  Unfortunately, I found him rushing to get to a meeting, so I just had to tell him in one word that, guess what honey, we're going to....

BUCHAREST!

I'm super excited about it!  It was our number two and three choice (there were more than one position in Bucharest on our bid list), so I must admit it wasn't a total shocker as I felt I'd stacked the deck heavily in that direction.  But one never knows until the know, and so I also had images of us getting a really low bid and going somewhere we really kinda' would rather not go.  It happens all the time; in the Foreign Service we're all taught just to not believe something until you have your travel orders, or better yet, are actually AT your new post.  In fact, the ink won't dry on the assignments for a few months yet, as a panel has to meet to grant the positions. This is what gives the employee their official notification. But chances are more than good that it will stick. Things that come up to change it could be that the person I'm due to replace suddenly curtails and the new post doesn't want to wait for my arrival. Or the post decides to cut that position, or to change the position to a higher/lower level that doesn't match my level. That stuff happens all the time, so we just learn from the start not to count any chickens.

But still... I'm excited. I will be a Consular Officer again for the full two years and I will have to/get to learn Romanian to a 3/3 level in speaking and reading. That's the same level I have now in Spanish. Of course, I came to FSI with three years of high school Spanish still rattling around in my memory. Even without this prior experience, being in the US just about everyone should have some familiarity with Spanish from reading packaging, going on Mexican vacations, watching Sabado Gigante now and again on TV etc... But Romanian? Yeah, Nadia Comaneci is the extent of my knowledge on the subject of the Romanian language and I'm pretty sure it's a proper name, not a verb conjugation. 

Part of our bidding strategy was to learn a new multi-country language, and preferably a "world language" like French, Russian or Portuguese that could be useful in a long list of interesting countries. But our list, once whittled down for timing, spousal work options, cat travel etc... offered us lots of really cool places with lots of, shall we say, "boutique" languages that would carry us to only one post. Now that the doing is done, I can tell you that we also bid high on positions in Vietnam, Thailand and Japan which would have given us a new language, albeit a super hard one. As much as I was thinking how awesome it would be to live in one of those places, I'm secretly relieved I don't have to learn a tonal language. My Vietnamese-speaking friend told me, "Oh don't worry, speaking Vietnamese is like singing, just practice Karaoke!"  Right. In finding something similar that I have zero talent for, she may as well have said, "Oh, it's just like flying a jet. Or free climbing Half Dome. Or salsa dancing!"

Our number one and four spots were Casablanca, Morocco and Montreal, Canada specifically for the opportunity to learn French, a language in which my husband already has a strong base. Bucharest ended up in spots number two and three because we figured, hopefully, that at least Romanian is one of the five Romance languages and therefore would be more familiar  to us than say Bulgarian, Serbo-Croatian or Hungarian - all options also high on our list. And although I've never been there, I'm told it's a beautiful country where we'll have four true seasons, amazing mountain scenery (my favorite), inexpensive living, super regional travel opportunities and the Black Sea coast just a few hours' drive away.  It's a medium-sized Embassy and with what I'd call a "healthy-sized" Consular Section. It's going to be great. I will leave you with a few nice pictures of Romania, all shamelessly copied from Google images. Thank you nice people in internetlandia for sharing these with us.

Yup, there's an Arcul de Triumf there, too. (There's also one in Juarez, btw)

What's Europe without a fairy tale castle or two?

One of the world's largest buildings

Northern Romanian countryside

And a handy map for those of you too embarrassed to ask where Romania is.

PS The Tabbies were a bit upset to learn that they will be "pisici" (or "pisica" in singular). They think that looks too much like "swimming pool" in French. They hate swimming pools.

PPS We were a bit disappointed to see that our new flag for our collection looks too much like our last flag.  We'll let you all be the judge. Do you know which is Colombia and which is Romania? No fair scrolling up to compare. 

 

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.

Flag Day! Part Two

Everyone remembers some big one-time event in their life: a high school prom, a quinceanera, or a graduation. Flag Day is that event for the FS, because all further assignments will announced via e-mail and with far less whooping, hollering and clapping. However, in the company of 90 classmates (three of us switching from Specialist to Generalist), I got to go through this twice. And it's just as fun the second time!

So, the new flag now proudly displayed in our little home is....

v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v
v


Mexican Flag

MEXICO!

We're border-bound for Ciudad Juarez!

Now I know it doesn't sound as exotic as some places whose names have a spy-thriller ring to them like Baku, Astana or Tashkent, but it's going to be a super training ground and an opportunity to finally get that elusive 3/3 in Spanish (as in they won't let me leave until I do!).

The Tabbies were pretty excited because we told them that they wouldn't have to go on an airplane to get there. We thought we'd mention the four-day car trip a little later on, after the excitement has worn off some. They'll be Mexicats, and are being fitted for serapes and huaraches as we speak (Toby wants a sombrero, too. His pink nose is quite susceptible to sun burn.)

My name was called about 75% of the way through the ceremony, so I got to watch my colleagues leap to their feet in many cases, even throwing their arms around our class mentor Ambassador in excitement. She took the exuberance in great spirits and kept a huge genuine smile as she waved each little flag in play in front of the crowd as the assignment was announced.

They always warn us that Flag Day will bring about surprises, and yesterday was no exception. We knew that not every option would be assigned as there were a handful more places than people, but there were some last-minute additions as well. One city  came up twice and I have two classmates instead of just one headed there, and there were two countries that weren't on our list that surprised everyone. One of my hopeful-highs didn't get assigned at all, but that's okay - beautiful, historic Europe is overrated, right? And while it would have been really cool to learn a one-country language like Mongolian so that Tim and I could use it to comment privately about the rude person behind us in line in the supermarket - it'll be good to deepen instead of lose our Spanish.

I was honestly surprised to get Ciudad Juarez, but only because the timing of the training and the projected arrival time were not an exact match for my language level. But in retrospect, when I review the list of priorities given to my career development officer: easy for elderly cats, work in my career track and possibility for Tim to work - it fits the whole bill. Plus, it's an easy hop over to El Paso if the need arises for, oh I don't know, movies without Spanish subtitles? To be honest, I can't think of what El Paso would offer that Ciudad Juarez wouldn't, but then again - I've never been to either place.

So here's another cool part: minutes after the last flag was doled out and my classmates started milling around hugging each other and looking for their families in the back of the room, two people approached me. They are from previous A-100s and are also headed to Ciudad Juarez and wanted to come meet another new coworker. They said that there's a core group that gets together regularly here while in training, each of us with different departure dates. It really meant a lot for them to offer the welcome mat, and how great is that to have an instant group of friends already!?

Well that's that. We'll all file back into our A-100 classroom on Monday, no doubt chattering about our new horizons, finally freshly in focus. I'm thrilled to be starting the training in the meat-and-potatoes of the work I'll be doing. It's been three years imagining this time and the Consular Affairs flag lapel pin is no longer just a hopeful symbol, but now a true association.

Woo-hoo!!

FS Life: A One Year Retrospective

One year ago today, the 119th Specialist Orientation started and I began my new Foreign Service life along with 68 classmates. I flew from the west coast to the east, and somewhere over the Mississippi River, my saying-goodbye sniffles dried up and I began to let myself get excited about what was in store. I arrived in Virginia, exhausted, with two freaked-out cats in carriers and suitcases stuffed with three weeks worth of suits and two years worth of hopes and expectations.

I was met by my first OMS friend who (literally) within minutes of seeing me settle the cats into their new apartment, was taking me grocery shopping and filling me in on everything I'd need. The next day I met the rest of my future classmates. We were a combination of specialties, from OMS to RSO (Regional Security Officers), from GSOs (General Services Officers) to FMs (Facilities Managers) with a smattering of health providers and HR specialists. We ranged in age from 22 to 59, and arrived in Virginia from all parts of the country and as many different backgrounds. That first day found us excited, exhausted and trying to figure out where to go, how to get there and what to do as we started at Main State for Day One. There was a day of in-processing where we got our badges and took our official oath. After that the briefings began: many speeches about "welcome to this great new life," and then something that confused most of us about travel credit cards that one year later I still don't know what are.

There is a new Specialist Orientation in session today, and I wish them the same incredible experience that the 119th had. As I'm feeling a bit sentimental, I thought I'd review the highs and lows of my first year working for the USG in the hopes of inspiring some, or just giving anyone who is interested a short look down the road of a possible new career and life:

Highs:

1. The friendships made at FSI and at post. People I would otherwise have never met who I don't have to explain this whole FS thing to. People who respond, "Wow that's great - I'll give you the name of my friend who's posted there" when you tell them you're moving to Uzbekistan. The bonds made through countless evenings in our Oakwood apartments, poring over our bid lists or the insane amount of paperwork we had to go through, all the while sharing a bottle of wine, fresh-baked cookies, stories from our former lives and too much laughter. BBQs and send-off parties as we all spread to the corners of the globe.
2. The excitement of Flag Day and learning what the next two years will bring me, my family and my friends. Already getting excited about the next bid list, the next post, the next set of friends, languages and challenges.
3. Language training and being able to put it to use in my new country.
4. Walking beside the enormous sandstone wall carved with "United States of America Embassy" and the eagle emblem and then past framed pictures of the President, the VP and Secretary Clinton when I come into work each morning and remembering who I'm working for.
5. A cool apartment with more than one bathroom and more armchairs than we'd ever had before (one for each cat, even). Plus a dining table with chairs for six!
6. Making phone calls, even if just to reserve hotel rooms, and saying that I'm calling from the Embassy of the United States and having that mean something to people.
7. Reading cables that offer interesting background to the news headlines. Or knowing about the news before it's news.
8. Seeing the massive Colombian flag waving near the embassy as I walk out to get the mail each day, its brilliant yellow contrasted against the dark green of the mountainous backdrop that reminds me that I'm on a different continent now.
9. Meeting regular people in Colombia, from my animal shelter friends, to taxi drivers, to people in stores, and doing my best to be a positive example of what an American is.
10. Finally not being freaked out by my work responsibilities and feeling proud of what my section accomplishes when we all work together.

Lows:

1. Being so far from family and friends back at "home," which is what I still find myself calling it. After a year, are we just distant memories?
2. Having nearly everything require 14 steps, three separate forms, a memo, and approvals from five different departments. Ah bureaucracy!
3. Seeing how difficult it is for family members to find fulfilling lives and not feel like 5th wheels to someone else's life.
4. Having a real face in mind when something horrible happens that makes the news. This year for me it was the bombings in Abuja, just down the road from two friends.
5. Worrying about a possible evacuation and what what we'd lose, how we'd get the cats out to safety.

I think it's a good thing to have a 2:1 highs to lows ratio, so I'll leave it off there and won't spoil the symmetry by complaining about really expensive cat litter or lousy traffic.

Overall, it seems like my 119th classmates are well-settled and enjoying their new lives. At least I haven't heard any grumblings. Sure, there have been some who have been far too busy to write back (hey Tajikistan - I'm talking about you!), but in general it's been a successfully adventurous year. My favorite story is from my OMS classmate who was depressed after being assigned her 10th pick (out of a list of 13). After only a few months at post she reported that, "they couldn't have picked a better place for me if they tried!" raving how she loved her job and new country. 

From the 119th this year we've already had a marriage, a divorce, a pregnancy (twins!) and a birth (not the same one), and probably an affair no one else knows about. Nobody has quit (that I know of) and we're too new to have anyone promoted or fired. But the coming years will bring more checks to this list, plus some will decide to separate from the service, and someone's spouse will join up to form a tandem.
So, I wish the new Specialists an equally cool journey these coming months. Fill us in on your Flag Day stories, if you would, and believe me - this next year is going to fly by.

Rainy Day: Random Thoughts and Statistics

It's Colombus Day, which means no work for me and there's a nice thunder-n-lightning storm outside and I've done all my housework... so I thought I'd take this time to look at this blog's statistics of readers from around the world. As of today, here they are:

United States       9,501

Colombia               123

New Zealand           58

Mozambique           49

Germany                 46

Canada                    42

Russia                     41

United Kingdom      39

Japan                      35

Qatar                      31

I'd like to say "Hey!" and "Thanks for reading!" to the 49 Mozambican page-viewers (I visited and love the country - hope you're enjoying it, too), and the 58 Kiwis (ditto what I said about Mozambique). I must say I'm a bit disappointed in the number of pageviews of our fine neighbors to the north. Yes, Canada - that's you. Perhaps if I wrote more about hockey and less about cats, the numbers would improve? (I'm just teasing you.) I imagine the 123 Colombian pageviews are my husband (honey, you're skewing the stats!) but I'm curious about the Qatar and Japan readers...

I would like to know what information is most interesting and helpful to you all. I know that sometimes blogger makes it hard to leave comments, but if you can, let me know what would be interesting.

I figure two main types of readers work their way through my thoughts each week: those of you who are friends or family and are curious if we're still living and breathing (yes, thank you); and those of you who are aspiring OMSes and are looking for glimpses into this possible new career. And, according to the stats kept by blogger, there are dozens of people who hit upon this blog after searching for "Colombian Flag" on Google. Yes, there technically IS a picture of the Colombian flag (go back to late March), but this site probably wasn't what you were expecting, eh?

In speaking to the latter group (not the flag-Googlers): there is a brand-new batch of OMSes at FSI as we speak (24 of them, I'm told) who will be going through the excitement of Flag Day tomorrow. For all of them, I can't say that I wish you only your high bids, because if word-of-mouth is any indicator, many of my colleagues have been pleasantly surprised when fate brought them an assignment they never would have chosen for themselves. Today is the last day of your life as you know it. After tomorrow afternoon, your thoughts and focus will be on the coming horizon: what to bring, what can't I bring, what schools for my kids, what clothes for what climate, what languages to learn, what food, how many flights to get there and how much will it cost to ship my pet(s)? You will become fluent in all these questions and answers over the coming three weeks. Some find this exciting, some terrifying, some tedious - but it is an integral part of the life which you've just entered.

We are forever looking to the horizon and wondering what's coming. It doesn't end for this post, either. My co-workers, some with 20+ years in the FS, are still looking ahead and planning, plotting their career course, figuring out that even at age 53 they may need to spend nearly a year at FSI to learn a new language - but it would be worth it. I think if you weren't a day-dreamer or the type that asked, "But what's around THAT corner?" you mightn't be wondering about this life after all.

One of my favorite recently-overheard conversations on the van the other day summed up the FS mentality perfectly:

Person One: We're thinking of bidding on XYZ country, how did you like it there?

Person Two: Oh I loved it! It was a wonderful time.  Well, I did get dengue fever and dysentary and giardia - but other than that, it was great. You should totally bid on it!

We're not the typical breed of cat, and it is such a relief to finally arrive at FSI or at your first post, and be among people who understand your wandering motivations, people who talk about spending ten months to learn Estonian being a good thing, people who are fluent in the many forms of electricity and the appliances that can/can't work with them, and people who can discuss the various ways to keep armies of African ants out of the dog kibble bin.

However, if you're the person who said this to me while I was still back at home:

"What? Why would you want to leave here? Aren't we good enough for you?" ---
I don't recommend this life for you.

But I'm glad that you're out there, keeping the homefires burning while we scatter to each horizon. Believe me, we'll be envious of your easy access to peanut butter, rolls of wrapping paper and $3 boxes of breakfast cereal, for sure.

In the meanwhile, I hope these random thoughts give some of you an insight into our lives and maybe some inspiration or a feeling of relief that you're not alone out there as you try to explain to friends and family why moving to the Congo would be pretty cool.

Cuidate, y nos vemos!

Flag Day - Part Dos

Okay, so a few days later, I've been able to catch my breath a bit and can share some more details about our recent Flag Day.

First - what's the big deal, right? The big deal is that since mid-2009 I've been focused on this very day as the shining horizon. I've understood and have been excited about the prospect of how - for lack of a better term - fate would have such an incredible role in my life, Tim's life, my family's life, and the Tabbies' life. True, it is "just" our first posting; just two years and there will be many more thereafter. But the first post sets the tone for our life (and even if I'm the employee - it's OUR life in this deal) in the Foreign Service. Will we love it? Will we be scared off? Will I cut it?

(Okay, enough of that, here's the fun bit and I hope that may help stoke the fires of those of you whose embers for the FS life are just warming up.)

It's a crisp and sunny Tuesday afternoon and our families are assembled and waiting for us in a large-ish conference hall at FSI. Some have flown across the country for this day (mine), and many have rug-rats in tow waiting to hear about what the next few years of their life might bring. Our collective bid lists included Fiji and Kathmandu; Rome and Vienna; Bujumbura and Miami; Tajikistan and Yemen. My classmates and I take our seats at the front of the room facing a large screen welcoming us to Flag Day and displaying colored flags from around the world. I sit next to another OMS classmate who is suddenly noticing and worried about a spot on her sweater. We decide that her ID badge can hang to just the right place to cover it. Then they tell us that we're getting started and to take our ID badges off, they look bad in the pictures. Okay, so maybe we can kinda' tuck the bottom of her sweater under to hide the spot...
and before the thought is finished, they've announced the first posting already. It is Vienna and it's going to.... not me. My friend and I snap to attention; this is really happening. Who cares about the stain. Our classmate jumps to her feet and accepts the red and white flag with a huge smile of relief.

I'm okay; Vienna would have been great - but very expensive, my classmate will love it there. The announcer continues to work down the list awarding postings to classmate after classmate as we cheer, remembering that Mumbai was so-and-so's first choice, or that Port au Prince will be close to so-and-so's wife posted in Santo Domingo. My top choices were Mexico City, Bujumbura, Bucharest and Bogota. Mexico City goes to a classmate who is a native Spanish speaker - drat! But it makes sense, she has the language skills needed for that position - I should have known. Then the heartbreak: Bujumbura goes to another classmate. I'm not sure why I was so intent on that destination, maybe it was The Great Toby's prediction taken to heart? (More on that later.) Tim speaks French; I speak a little. It would have been - I dunno' - exotic and so very, very Foreign. Anyway, it's gone and the flags are continuing to be picked off one by one.

I'm honestly excited and happy for my classmates as they get their top picks: Lima, Shenyang, Jakarta. But what about me? There are now only two postings left: Bucharest and Bogota and I'm the only one from my specialty left. In fact, there are only three of us in the room whose names haven't yet been called. I look at the little flag holder in front of the announcer and see it: Broad yellow stripe, blue, red... I'm going to Colombia. I know it before they said it.

And then it is official: Bogota, Colombia.  I hear my name, stand up to take my little flag, do the "grip and grin" with our class mentor and try to keep my focus to walk as directed to my Career Development Officer (CDO) standing to the side with a shiny blue folder with my name on it.

My classmates are all congratulating each other, waving our flags, posing for pictures and greeting our families. It is pretty awesome, I must say. Minutes later, my CDO comes up to me and says that the next morning at 0800 I need to be in the Spanish Department for an evaluation of my language skills - don't worry, it'll be short - and then they'd get me enrolled in whichever level classes I needed. My posting requires a 2/2 (on a 0-5 scale of speaking/reading) skill level, so I'll need some brushing up before packing up and heading south.  I find a second to call Tim and tell him the news and he seems excited to hear it.

For the next day or so, I felt somewhat in shock still, letting it sink in that the little "You Are Here" light on my map was going to move to South America. I've never been there - it'll be completely new. A city at 8600 feet with "fall-like weather" just about year 'round. In the coming weeks and months I'll be learning more and more about my job, our new country, our new city, our new language.

That's it for now. Tomorrow I need to have a talk with The Great Toby. We'll see what he has to say for himself and for his predictions.  Until then...

Djibouti!

No, no - that's not where I'm going - that's what I got to jump up from my seat and yell during our Flag Day when I won our Post Bingo game. It's not right to just shout Bingo! in this crowd, so we came up with one of the funnest words to say (it was going to be Ouagadougou but not everyone could remember it) so Djibouti it was, and I'm happy to say that I won.

And yes, it was a little embarassing to stand up and yell it first in front of all those important types attending our big day.

So... I've been thinking about how I'm going to write this posting for a very long time. I don't want to just say where I'm going - what fun is that, right? But the Tabbies kept me up until the wee hours last night (BAD Tabbies!); I had a terribly exciting day, some fun with classmates and family afterwards and then some very, very spicy Vietnamese food for dinner with my family (word of caution: they don't ask how many stars of spiciness you want it out here. They just dump it in. I'm not in Snohomish anymore!).

I'm exhausted. This isn't how I wanted to break the news to everyone, so I'm just going to say it in a flag and then give a better story tomorrow.

Any guesses?

Think really good coffee.

Think of mountainous terrain and average temps between 45-68 degrees.

Think of me taking a Spanish assessment test tomorrow at 0800 to go to......

Bogota, Colombia!!

So that's it. The big reveal.

Wow, we're moving to Colombia.

Pretty cool, eh?

Details to follow.

Flag Day Eve

This could be considered "the night before my life as I know it changes."

So far this FS life has been primarily theoretical: day dreaming, studying, writing, hoping, waiting, more day dreaming, LOTS more waiting. Now we're in our third week of orientation and I feel like I'm just getting my sea legs. I've gotten used to my routine and know most (okay, a lot) of my 69 classmates' names. I know where the Registrar's office is and when the shuttle bus comes. And now it's our last week as a group before we scatter with the wind,  hopefully to grow roots where we land. We have people staying here in the States and people heading to every continent (except Australia and Antarctica - is that considered a continent anyway?).

It seems that much of this life is spent looking to the horizon. Waiting to hear if we pass the FSOT or if we get invited to an oral assessment. Waiting to hear if we get medical clearances, security clearances, invited to an orientation. What will be on our bid list? What flag will we get? What will post be like? What is our NEXT post? Maybe this is why we chose this life, because there is always something to look forward to, some change, some new adventure.

But running through my mind is a line from one of my favorite movies: "I know she can get the job, but can she do the job?" (Anyone name that movie?) Yeah, that's still a bit scary. One of our OMS trainers told us that don't worry if we feel as if we're not even qualified to open the door at this point, they hired us for a good reason and we'll get back to our usual selves sooner or later. It reminds me about what they said about Ginger Rogers: She did everything that Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in heels. We need to awesomely represent THE NATION while we adapt to a new country, a new job, a new language, a new climate, a new time zone, and perhaps while being away from our family and possibly while under the influence of anti-malarials.
Wow.
That's a tall order.

I'd better get some sleep!

Tomorrow: what flag will it be?