Finding Friends in a Foreign Service Life

March brings our fifth anniversary with the State Department. Including three stints for training at FSI of about six months each, we are living in our sixth home in those five years. While this might sound like I'm about to write about packing and moving, I'm not (this time).  Instead, I've been thinking about the whole topic of friendships while living such a mobile, temporary life.  This is something my husband and I talk about quite a lot, actually.  The conversations usually take place over dinner when we start thinking about our plans for the weekend and where, when and with whom we plan to do something.  

Sounds like normal life stuff, right? Well, it's different in a Foreign Service life - a LOT different.  

After much thought on the subject, I've found that there are four general categories, if you want to call them that, of friends you can have while living abroad:

• American work friends, 
• Local work friends, 
• Locals in general, 
• Other ex-pats. 

Let's start with the obvious - American work friends:

When I first arrived at FSI as a brand-new OMS, my fellow Specialist Orientation classmates provided me with 68 new friends; folks who were exactly in the same boat I was. We had all just given up a previous job or finished an education; we had all just started a new job in a unique work culture; and most of us had just moved away from our familiar lives with friends and family.  Add the fact that the majority of us were living in temporary housing (hello Oakwood!) and the bonding was instant and easy as we all made our way through the transition. It felt just like freshman year in college moving into the dorms, but with salaries.  There were BBQs, happy hours, dinners out, museum trips etc... and I found great relief being with others who were experiencing the same thing I was and who understood how overwhelming finding one's way through the massive machinery that is a new federal career can be.  This period was probably the easiest transition in terms of friends, truly a "just add water and presto" situation.

Arriving at a first posting felt quite the same as arriving at FSI.  There were lots of new people in Bogota's massive embassy to meet. Someone was always planning some kind of activity or outing, there were game nights, dinner parties etc...  There seemed to be no lack of things to do or people to meet and over a short time we began to find our "niche" of friends naturally. 

No doubt, hanging out with other Americans can be very easy. After spending the work day communicating with limited language skills, it feels great to be able to express oneself fully in English; it's fun to share American holidays or sporting events and to laugh or commiserate about living in the new country with its inherent difficulties and pleasures.  However, after a while my husband and I started to question why we were only hanging out with other Americans.  One of the main reasons we joined the Foreign Service was to know what it was like to live immersed in another culture and out of our comfort zone.  

So now the next inevitable dilemma bubbles to the surface: How do we naturally make local friends?  "Naturally" meaning we gag at the idea of making friends mechanically, as if working through a list. "We really need to cultivate more native friends, dear." But at the same time - we do want to do just that. 

We saw the easiest source of local friends in the staff members we work with, who will always outnumber the Americans in the Embassy or Consulate. We've met so many great LES* whom we really like and want to spend more time getting to know. Besides liking them personally, they're also the perfect combination of people who understand American culture, speak English perfectly, yet can also teach us about their country, language, food, traditions etc..  So where's the catch? As in most things in life - there's always a catch. This is where we have stumbled and are still trying to find our way.

We're often the local staff's supervisors, and let's face it - it's a tricky situation being the supervisor and being the friend. And from their point of view, who wants to hang out with their boss after hours anyway?  After a few months in Bucharest, I said to a local colleague, "So when are we going to meet your family? Maybe we could all have dinner some time?"  He politely, yet clearly, responded with something to the effect of, "After you don't work here anymore."  I felt hurt at first, because after I don't work here is also after I don't live here anymore, and so... that kind of means never. I know he didn't mean that he didn't like us nor want to get to know us, he just knew what was best for the professional relationship. 

I've had some great bonding experiences with local coworkers when we've traveled together for work, which I've been fortunate to do a handful of times.  There's the laughing at the airport when we stand in the wrong lines or find ourselves so engaged in the gettin'-to-know-ya' conversation that we almost miss our planes (has happened twice). There's the fact that we are sitting next to each other on the plane or car ride, which makes personal conversation inevitable. We work together on whatever project or presentation we'll be giving, and finally we share meals before and after work as we're always staying in the same hotel - it just happens easily.  So it was in this setting that one coworker who I really like confided in me by saying what I'd always suspected: Why should the local staff invest in friendships when they know that the Americans will be moving on in two or three years, most likely never to see them again? She added frankly that she'd had her heart broken too many times to let herself fully invest in a real friendship.  Every going away party I've been to seems to involve American tears as we realize that we may see our American colleagues again somewhere - but probably not the local staff. We blubber away with promises to return to visit, and they give us a hug and then an hour later change the name plaque on our door. 

Further, particularly outside of Western Europe, Canada or Australia, there can be the awkward economic difference between local and American staff. Besides salary differences, we also don't usually live in the same areas, most notably because Embassy housing is generally in tony neighborhoods and not where the "regular folks" live. We find ourselves talking with coworkers about restaurants we've visited ("Yeah, it was great and not too expensive!") and then hear the awkward silence which means that our Thursday night pop-out-for-a-bite spot may be their only-on-a-special-occasion spot. And frankly it's embarrassing when you realize exactly what it means to accidentally say, "Oh, is it payday already?" to a local coworker. 

What about locals from outside of work?

This might be the best compromise, but it takes more effort to find them.  Last night a young American coworker who lives in our building had a gathering at her apartment. (Side note: Going to a party by taking an elevator or walking two doors down in a compound neighborhood does have its advantages.) It was really impressive to see what a range of friends she'd already made, and in talking to them I saw that it didn't happen accidentally.  There were a handful from an outdoors adventures group with whom she'd gone skiing and ice climbing, some from a German ex-pats group that meets regularly (but they were all Romanians), a handful from the local Toastmasters chapter - but only a few of us from the Embassy. We ended up staying waaay later than I normally would simply because there were new and interesting people to chat with and best of all - we weren't just talking about work. 

Sharing a passion, sport or hobby is an obvious way to make local friends. In Bogota we found a good group through our volunteer work at an animal shelter.  Each weekend when we arrived at the shelter, we'd catch up with the other volunteers while caring for the animals and were flattered to be invited to spend "novenas" (celebrations leading up to Christmas) with one family. We spoke only Spanish with them and they laughed at our mistakes and then taught us how to REALLY say things. Hence my otherwise-inexplicable ability to speak about collars, leashes, worms and the quality and quantity of a dog's poop. We learned about their lives and families while scooping litter boxes and when they came to our going-away party, the tears we shared demonstrated exactly why my Romanian coworker doesn't let herself become too close. 

In Juarez we were fortunate to live in a gated neighborhood that was 90% Mexican families. We were even luckier that these neighbors were stable, professional folks. Meeting neighbors usually just involves working in the front garden a bit, or if you have one, walking the dog in the common area and not being afraid to strike up the typical weather-condition of the roads-pets-or-kids chit-chat. We did this with the family next door and soon enough we were invited to their kids' birthday parties and in exchange, had them over for their first American Thanksgiving. Openness to strangers will naturally vary depending on the culture, but in the typically outgoing Latin American style - it wasn't too hard. (Another side note: Let's just say that some of our coworkers weren't as lucky as we were and had neighbors who kept tiger cubs as pets and had parties with Mariachi bands playing in the back yard until it was time to go to work. I'll let you guess what line of work they might just possibly be in.) 

Finally, there are the other ex-pats. 

Looking for friends from this pool is a bit new to us as in Juarez, the Americans were the only diplomatic mission in town. I imagine this could be the case in other Consulates worldwide. But now being in an embassy puts us in the capital city, and therefore in an environment with a large diplomatic community and in a city full of multinational companies and their employees. We've been invited to Scottish, English and German holiday gatherings so far, which offers another pool of potential friends who are not coworkers or only other Americans.  For the French speakers, there's usually a Alliance Francaise in any large city, and in both Bogota and (surprisingly) even in Juarez  - we'd go to their movie nights.  International schools also attract teachers from around the world, many of whom live the same transitory lifestyle we do.  Like backpackers in hostels comparing notes on the road ahead, we've learned a lot about cities and countries we've considered working in from these teachers. For example, we've now moved Togo onto our short-list of possible West African countries based on a few such positive conversations. 

We miss our friends from home and are sad to see years-long friendships dwindle to Christmas cards and Facebook updates.  (Unless you get posted to Europe or some tropical paradise, which like having a pool in the backyard, seems to bring out every long-lost cousin with designs on your spare room. A true test of friendship is when they'll still visit you in Mauritania or Vladivostok.) It seems that at each post, we end up with one couple who we really click with and enjoy spending time with. But just as with our local coworkers  - we all know that summer camp will eventually end and we'll have to say goodbye. Veteran FS families have learned to maintain these far-flung besties through vacationing at each others' posts, or by re-igniting the friendship while at FSI.  It just means that you get to see that person you really like only every two or so years, which is kind of a bummer. 

So what's the bottom line?

Even given all the above options, however, we still find that we're stuck with a life of rather superficial friendships and lots of time spent with just each other, and trust me - my husband has already heard all my best stories and would probably appreciate some new material now and again. We hope our old friends from home won't tire too much of sentences that start with, "When we were in...," but we imagine they will. The best lesson we're learning is to just put ourselves "out there" and let ourselves enjoy the people who do cross our paths, whether for one conversation or for the entire tour.  

*LES = Locally Engaged/Employed Staff.  Formerly known as FSNs = Foreign Service Nationals.  The title was changed a few years back from FSN to LES because of the presence of third-country nationals working in the posts, i.e. neither Americans nor host-country nationals.  But it didn't take too long for someone to pronounce LES as "less" and a loud, global forehead slap was heard.  So, now we either go back to saying FSNs or use the full term "LE Staff." Sigh.

An Elephant in the Room?

I'm still wondering if this title is a bit misleading, because it makes it sound as if I'm going to write about something that everyone knows about, but that no one wants to talk about. The misleading part comes in because I think this topic IS talked about to a small degree, but to me it's tangible to a HUGE degree and therefore worthy of mention. Plus, I've had many conversations with co-workers and/or their spouses who note that it was an unpleasant surprise once they joined the Foreign Service.

So what is it?  Competitiveness.

Big deal? Depends on the person, I suppose.  For me it was a very palpable thing, really elephant-sized, that became obvious to me as I first started investigating the idea of joining.  

As a disclaimer, I should start off by saying that by nature I'm a very non-competitive person. By that, I mean that I don't like to win for the sake of winning.  When I win, whether it is in a board game or an athletic endeavor, the flush of excitement of prevailing over others is quickly dampened by the realization that my victory comes at the cost of their loss and that now they probably feel bad. It really ruins the whole victory thing if I care about the person I out-whatever'd because who can feel up when another person is now down? (However, if they were a boastful, show-off to begin with, well then all bets are off.)  Before I sound like a sappy dishrag, I must note that I am very self-competitive, which means that victory, achievement, challenge-and-success IS very sweet to me when I beat my own expectations, when I push myself to succeed or reach a difficult goal.  That kind of stuff I love because I feel proud for having the determination and discipline to have accomplished whatever the thing is. I'm just not the person who wants to feel superior to others, or that I've bested them in a "Ha! In your face sucka'!" sort of way.  

The  competition thing became apparent when I first joined the many Yahoo groups that exist to help people learn about the testing and hiring process for the State Department. These groups are extremely informative about the various examination steps and how to prepare for them, but one also gets a pungent whiff of one-upmanship on these message boards.  (By the way, they are very useful. I don't think I would have gotten through the hiring process without this preparation.  Please see this link for a comprehensive list.) Upon joining these groups, I quickly realized that I had to be on top of my game to play in this league.  All the time.  Mistakes or misinformation posted by one person innocently, even when in an effort to help another person, are quickly brought to light by other users under the guise of setting the record straight, but sounding a lot more like being outed by Donald Sutherland in "Invasion of the Body Snatchers."   It was a very good introduction to the kind of pool I'd be swimming in.  Yes, people are supportive and friends can be made, but this competitive element is just, well there, all the time.  Consider yourself forewarned.

Why should I be so surprised? Why does this even bear mentioning?  After all, it is a very competitive process to get hired with a small percentage making it through. It's a very competitive job once you DO get hired, and there is an up-or-out system where one must continue to be promoted in order to keep your job.  Promotions are competitive; we're compared to others within our group. Why should excellence be a flaw?  It keeps us progressing and looking for better ways to do things; it makes people stay sharp.  All good points for which I have no defense, and all the truth.  

I also shouldn't be surprised about this competitive thing when I look at the mix of people who gravitate towards this career, and it's quite a mix. From the fellowship program members who are fresh out of grad school (usually in their very early 20s) and who have already been successful in a highly competitive selection process and who have earned graduate degrees from serious-marquis named universities; to retired military Colonels, to former lawyers, former doctors, former Indian chiefs, to mayors of cities and life-long scholars with PhDs in neuro and rocket science - I have colleagues who have been nearly all the above.  These are not slackers; these are people who are used to challenging themselves and achieving results. These are usually people who are used to being the smartest kid in the room.  These are academic introverts, natural leaders, captains of industry and problem solvers.  Why should I now expect them to be any different? 

For those of us who feel we got hired because we happen to have a sunny personality, who prepared ad nauseam for each step in the process, and who feel that we just had a few good days - lemme' tell you, it can be pretty stressful to have to keep up this pace.  

So how does this competitiveness look and feel in the day-to-day working life?
(Another disclaimer: I am now assigned to a post that is a rare creature among posts worldwide. It is a consulate the size of many embassies with 47 entry-level officers [ELOs]. That means 46 other first and second tour, nontenured officers who are fresh from the starting block, ready to learn and make their mark, eager to be noticed and prepared to elbow their way to the front of the crowd.  Eager once again to be the smartest kid in the room. This is not the average post and my reaction could very possibly be in response to this particular setting. Your mileage may vary elsewhere.)

Back to the question:  Competitiveness is palpable when assignments are handed out and quickly the whispering starts about why someone was or wasn't chosen and why didn't I get selected instead?  Who is the fastest visa adjudicator and has the highest numbers? Who has the best handle on the language and who still keeps saying it wrong? Who knows the FAM (Foreign Affairs Manual) inside and out and is a resource for the other slackers? Who gets praised publicly with awards? Who did or didn't make tenure?  ARGH.

The very first day at post, when I had meetings with each of the Consulate's senior leadership, I noticed a recurring theme among the advice they offered: As an ELO, my only goal should be to just do my best at my job, be a generally nice person to work with and tenure will naturally follow.  After that, keep up with this motto and promotion will follow.  I now understand why each of them made a point of saying this, because I'm sure they see all us chickens, squawking and pecking at each other when we really don't need to.  

But now back to my calling this competitiveness an elephant in the room:  While I appreciate the advice given by our senior leadership that first day, it seems that unfortunately we DO need to elbow each other a bit.  We do need to have certain achievements on our annual employee evaluation reviews (EERs) to get tenured and promoted, and to get these achievements, we have to be a bit better than the average bear.  We have to make process improvements, which means always looking for a better way to do something, fixing what the other guy just did.  We have to take leadership roles which inevitably entails telling our colleagues what to do and how.  We have to make ourselves known and shine just a bit brighter than the rest.  (Sidenote example: my husband volunteered to work the grill at a Consulate BBQ recently along with a handful of ELO coworkers. He noticed that each ELO who took their turn manning the grill would rearrange the food and preparation process slightly different from the previous person to do things just the way they liked.  I thought that was hilarious, and very true.)  And unfortunately it means that we're subject to taking a tiny bit of pleasure in hearing about another person's shortcomings. 

I'm finding that I'm guilty of all the above and I don't like it. Not the job; I love my job. But I hate that this competition brings out the high-schooler in us all. I hate that it's an atmosphere where it's hard to be wholeheartedly happy for someone else's success.  I hate that I feel like if I have a few bad days, I'll lose pace with the pack.  I hate that I have to very carefully choose with whom I confide my own shortcomings or worries for fear that they will be used against me in the future.  I find that I relive my work day nightly in my dreams, using that time of mental relaxation to find any possible errors that need correction or ways to do things better the next day.  In fact, in our first three months in Bogota, I experienced more stress-related health issues than ever before in my life.  

When viewed individually, I truly enjoy 97% of my colleagues, finding them interesting, funny, and often generous and kind. In fact, it's hard to pinpoint just who is responsible for this competitive ambiance, as in, "Well when so-and-so leaves, it'll all be so much more relaxed around here."  Therefore I conclude that it really isn't some ONE, but rather an unconscious collective effort among us all.

Is this what life these days is like anywhere?  Do teachers and firefighters feel like this too?  Will I achieve higher highs for having swum with these sharks when it's all over? After all, steel is hardened only by tempering, right?  I'm sure that even at my ripe ole' age, I'll benefit from this competition.  Honestly, it could go one of two ways: either I'll eventually say (in my best Cartman voice) "Screw you guys, I'm going home!" or, "Wow, I really could do more when pushed a bit!".  

I suppose it's all up to me.  I've wanted to write this for a while to let y'all know the reality of what it's like and also to help myself discover what the best answer could be. Thanks for listening, and good luck to us all. 

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.

Transitions

Yesterday Tim and I spent an inordinate amount of time scrubbing our apartment. He moved all the furniture and made the wood floors shine, and I took scrubbers and froofy-smelling products to the bathrooms. Why the cleaning frenzy? Because today the Housing Board (of which I'm a member) will be touring the soon-to-be-available apartments to help in their assignment process and tomorrow we'll have our pre-departure housing inspection.

This is the only job I can think of where your coworkers get to walk through your home to evaluate its condition and your housekeeping skills. Can you imagine working in a bank and having the tellers and your manager come by your place with clipboards, noting the size of your closets, the lack of light in your kitchen and the scratches on your floors? Yikes! And as one of said clipboard-toting Housing Board members, I've learned quite a bit about my colleagues from seeing how they keep house! (Read: "Did you see that she/he had five hairbrushes all lined up on the bedside table? What's that all about?")


So today it was our turn to be under the microscope and I was seeing the apartment through fresh eyes. Yeah - the Tabbies have barfed on the bedroom carpet quite a few times and we've done our best to remove the stains, but there's only so much one can do. Plus we're one of the only families I can think of who managed to live in Latin America without ever hiring a housekeeper. We're not slobs by any means, but there will be oven cleaning and intensive dusting in our very near future. Any type of damages above what is seen as "normal wear and tear" will be evaluated and charged, so I'm walking around the apartment with tiny nail scissors snipping off snags on the couches, spot-treating bits on the carpet and polishing tables (okay - that's Tim's favorite chore).

Besides cleaning for the inspection, we are also preparing our home and lives for our transition to Washington, DC. We've dedicated rooms in the apartment to "UAB" and "HHE" to prepare for the movers who will arrive Thursday morning. (UAB = Unaccompanied Air Baggage and HHE = Household Effects.) Our belongings will be divided into what we can physically pack and carry on the plane which have to last for three to four weeks until our UAB (450 lbs of stuff) arrives to carry us through until we reach our next post. We won't receive an HHE shipment until quite a few months after we reach that post. Naturally, nobody knows where that will be or when, so our UAB has to be a clever assortment of clothing for all seasons.

We still have over two weeks here, but there are a LOT of staples to eat through! Tim has been busily baking to work our way through the flour and sugar, and coming up with dinners that maximize the left-over ingredients. Seems I'll be bringing a bean and canned fruit melange, tossed in a white vinegar dressing to the Embassy 4th of July event. Mmmm... (For some reason we have four bottles of white vinegar left over. Oh, wait, I promised I'd CLEAN with all those. Oops.) Our left-over half-bottles of cleaning supplies, remaining garbage bags, coffee filters etc... will go to any neighbors, friends or porteros who show the slightest bit of interest.

In fact, last weekend my Embassy Spanish teacher received our old TV for her young sons. Her taxi-driving husband swung by the apartment to collect it, and when I explained to the portero why this guy was taking a TV out of our apartment, he was both shocked and seriously disappointed that it wasn't going to him instead. He's a very nice man, and we plan to leave all three porteros tips before leaving, but my teacher had become a good friend over the past year and I wanted to do something for her. She teaches at the Embassy in the morning and at a local middle school in the afternoon, all the while working on her Master's to teach English. She always comes to class with a big smile and funny conversation, despite working until 2 am on her own homework the night before. Yesterday was our last class and I got all teary as she expressed her gratitude for the TV and for our time together. One by one, this leaving stuff is going to be tough.

I think the last few weeks will just slip by. After pack-out, we'll be living out of the Embassy-provided "Welcome Kit."  The GSO guys dropped it off in a massive RubberMaid trunk the other day and once we're done packing out, we'll appoint the apartment with the four plastic plates, four plastic bowls, dull knives, light green sheets and beige towels, just like we had as newcomers. The Welcome Kit really has a way of bookending one's tour.

Speaking of newcomers - I've started to notice lots of new faces in the Embassy corridors already. People pausing in hallway intersections, trying to orient themselves, these people are here to replace us, to start making their own marks and to have their own Colombian experiences. But in a way, they feel like an intrusion. Who are they to try to take the place of all my friends and familar faces? Silly, I know, and I'm certain that as I meet them, I'll see that they're just as smart/funny/friendly as the people we're losing day by day.

Meanwhile, Bogota has been moving into the dry season, trying to make us feel worse for leaving her with blue skies and crisp morning air. It'll be bittersweet to leave our big brick city, for sure.

Okay, better get back to the scrubbing.

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.

Cambiando el tema, otra vez y otra vez

Changing the subject...again and again
That's what I find myself doing in the past few days. As my remaining days in language training have now dwindled to seven, while I'm still definitely focused on continuing to learn (ojala!), I'm also having to divert my attention to the job soon to be at hand: being an OMS. Not just an OMS, but a brand-new OMS in a really, really big embassy in a really big city. Yeah, I think I mentioned this before; can you tell it's on my mind? It's been nearly three months since the end of my OMS training and the time that I learned about all things "e-This" and "e-That." All those important programs that people rely on the OMS to know inside and out. That training feels como un recuerdo brumoso - sorry, like a foggy memory. Like a styrofoam take-out box, my brain and even my life has been divided into distinct sections with no sauce seeping from one quadrant to the others.

• The personal life: wife, daughter, the-cats'-mother, friend, sister
• The OMS life: cables, safes, combinations, classified vs unclassified, dip notes, seating charts, travel arrangements, country clearances, work requirements
• La Vida Espanol: classes, homework, evaluations, hallway chit-chat, EXAM
• The Colombian life - more questions than answers: Housing? What to bring? Car? Cat litter? Cat food? Clothing? Banking? How to get the cats to Bogota?
• The FSO life: exam preparation, oral assessment, registry (Still haven't hit the Consular registry - five weeks after passing the oral assessment. Oh well, I'm in no hurry.)
• The DoS life: diplomatic passports, visas, travel orders, amended travel orders, pack-out dates, vouchers, per diem, check-out procedures  

En pocas palabras: There is a lot going on, and I feel like I'm spinning plates and have to keep running from one life to the next to make sure none of them come crashing down on top of me. Those palabras weren't very pocas, sorry.

I've been so busy being busy that I haven't let myself get excited about my first post yet. But I need to do that.

So to help get my mind off the mental circus, the Washington, DC Folklife Festival was kind enough to select Colombia as one of the three showcased "themes" for their festival this year on the Mall. The other two were Soul Music/Detroit/Blues and the Peace Corps. There were three large areas dedicated to these themes and filled with booths/tents demonstrating various aspects of each. For Colombia, they broke it up regionally, and there were people from each part of the country displaying their customs, work, music, food, handcrafts, produce etc... Everyone was speaking Spanish; the music was great and I was thrilled to notice that I could understand the majority of what each person was saying. I think I learned a good bit about my host country and now I have images of the faces, sounds of the voices and accents, in my head.

Here are a few pictures, although they're not great because I feel awkward taking pictures of people like a tourist sometimes:

These are "llaneros" (plainsmen) and they were playing music that men play when out on the range with their cattle.

Women from Chocos on the northern Pacific coast, singing funeral songs and describing how the funerals are colorful occasions to celebrate the life, instead of the death, of the person.

This saddle took only two days to make (I think - I had a little trouble understanding the saddle-maker guy.)

Seeing his work did make me think of going riding again when we get down there, though.

Today let me lift my chin and look to the horizon again; to stop being busy being busy for a bit and be excited about what brought me to this place to begin with. Besides running from life to life as listed above, I've also been sentimental about the people who are no longer here or who I've moved away from. (And it seems that there are a few flat spots on the globe, too, as some of y'all have apparently fallen off the edges! I guess you're all busy  being busy, too). This life will be one of continual hellos and goodbyes, of getting excited; getting busy, getting nervous; getting comfortable; getting excited again.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

But all those cycles let us feel alive - heck, they just let us FEEL, as I believe a daily routine perpetuated endlessly tends to dull our senses.

I expect that in twenty years I will have a collection of delicate colored glass bottles on a shelf, labeled with names, places, experiences (good and bad), that I can occasionally take down, uncork, savor, and replace.

Perhaps I should let remember to let myself enjoy them in the moment they're created, too?

I'm an orphan

So today the last of my 119th Specialist Class OMS friends left for their posts. Already we're getting word back from those who left before the long weekend about their first days. It seems nobody was forgotten at the airport with all their belongings; nobody has received a security violation for leaving the safe open; and everyone is starting to settle into their new homes - albeit mostly their temporary homes. Some are wondering what the heck they're supposed to be doing, and some have already attended high-level receptions and translated Dip Notes into Spanish. 

Meanwhile, I came home after FSI today to find a box of extras from one friend's kitchen sitting outside my front door. She shipped out to Jakarta and left me with all sorts of bottles, cans and boxes of things that she couldn't take with her. It seems like just last week we were on the phone in our respective home states, griping about whether or not we'd received our job offers via FedEx, and now I come home to find just a box of her left-over peanut butter, hand cream, microwave popcorn and US coins she won't be needing for quite some time. I have friends in two different airports as we speak: one who was derailed last-minute from a post experiencing major civil unrest to a more stable temporary one; and one hoping to get her dog on the same flight to South America tonight. Another friend left for Jamaica while I was simply conjugating "Ayer, yo tuve que trabajar; tu tuviste que trabajar..." in class this morning.

I'm the only OMS left, and there are two months to go. So far my career has been purely in the theoretical. By the time I get to post as a newly-minted OMS, I will have been out of OMS training for over three months. I'm not sure I'll remember a thing about what to do. I recall something about cables and passwords and safes and, and, good thing I have a huge binder full of materials to refer to.

And eleven amazing friends with two months more experience than I to rely on.

I miss you guys already.

Thanks to my FM and GSO buddies for befriending this orphan!

Oh The Mistakes We Make In Language Class!

In order to get hired into the Foreign Service, one has to prove that every ounce of their being embodies the 12 (for Specialists) or 13 (for Generalists) Dimensions. The 12/13 Dimensions are things like Oral and Written Communication, Cultural Adaptability, Working With Others, Resourcefulness, Composure, Judgment etc... Things that we all have to greater or lesser degrees. Specialists - for some reason, thanks be to God - don't have to prove their Quantitative Analysis skills, hence the difference in the 12 vs. 13 Dimensions. But anyway, the point of this preamble is that there are a few personality dimensions that the State Department has chosen NOT to require, and for this I am enternally grateful. Because if Maturity, Ability Not To Laugh Out Loud In Class and Ability To Ignore a Corny or Dirty Joke were among the final three dimensions, well, I'd still be in Snohomish right now.

Given the fact that I am no longer 13, and never was a juvenile male, there really is no reason that I should find the stupidest things absolutely flippin' hysterical. As of this week, there are only four of us in my Spanish class now and I'm the only female. My teacher sits with his back to the window, and I sit opposite him, facing out over a nice courtyard from the third floor. Do you think I could resist pointing out that there was a huge bumble bee behind him today? Is it my fault that he ducked and squirmed before I could remember the word for "outside"? (Answer: No, it's not and no,it was  nowhere near his ear, but he didn't know that 'cause I was laughing too hard to say "afuera.")

And how about the whole "quizas" thing? Yeah, that was pretty hysterical to me, too. (Just say it a few times and you'll see why Beavis - me - thought it was so funny when I asked my teacher how to say "maybe.")

Further, did you know that "lawyer" in Spanish is "abogado"? I have got to find away to remember that is NOT what I should order on a sandwich or smashed-up and seasoned with chips.

Finally, last night, during a Spanish-practice get-together, I listened to an entire story about a woman who had been posted in India who was commenting on how incredibly spicy the food in her region was, and how due to the fact that she was so "embarazada" - it was worse for her. It wasn't until later that I realized she wasn't telling us how she was "embarrassed" due to the after-effects of the hot food on her constitution, but rather that she was PREGNANT at the time!

Oh geez. So, the bottom line is that it's a darn good thing I wasn't hired for my maturity level, because each day in language training is an opportunity to make a fool of myself, and be the first one to laugh along the way!

Meanwhile, tonight most of our FSS 119th Orientation Class got together at our Oakwood complex for a send-off to those of us who are leaving soon: My OMS buddies will be first, followed by our friends in the white coats, the medical staff. We had pizza, snacks, and some really delish chocolate-covered strawberries. (Yes, I'll admit it, I ate five. Or six.) But more than that, we had a great time just hanging out and knowing that we now have 68 new friends (plus spouses!). Friends of all ages; friends from all corners of the country and the world; 68+ friends whom I never would have known otherwise. People far smarter than I; people who speak far more languages and some who speak fewer; people with far more children and far more dogs; and most importantly: people who can laugh just like I do at the most stupid joke. It's great to be among friends like that, so I'm glad the State Department had the good sense not to weed those of out with a silly little criteria like Maturity.

Until next time, I'm sure I'll be making stupid Spanish mistakes and laughing along with my new FS friends.

Hasta la vista amigos!

To my EPD friends: Congratulations (and some random thoughts)

I learned today that eight of my former co-workers were promoted today at Everett PD to Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain and Deputy Chief. More than I had expected when I left about a month ago, so it was great to see the list of names of those earning more bling on their uniforms.

Congrats to everyone!

Meanwhile, watching the world news doesn't feel quite the same when you have new classmates who are already slated for some of the headline locations (that I know of: Sana'a, Yemen and Islamabad, Pakistan). And my apartment complex is full of evacuee families from various posts. The way that natural disasters and civil unrest seems to strike randomly - there's no guarantee that we're either safer or more at risk in Bogota or Seattle, Bucharest or Snohomish. So we might as well just go for it.

As my mother says, I have to just follow my star.

Five days and counting.