Oh the Glamour of Being a Diplomat

There is a cliche complaint in the Foreign Service world, but frequently cliches got their start in some good, old-fashioned truth:

Pack-out sucks.

There, I've said it. 

Yes, this also sounds like a true first-world complaint so if this doesn't garner any sympathy - I can understand that.  My goal in writing this is to offer warning to anyone thinking of joining the Foreign Service and imagining the glamorous life of a diplomat, dashing hither and yon around the world between cocktail parties and Serious Work.

Let me dash that image first and lower your expectations a tad.  Instead, imagine the life of a postal employee who has to reevaluate all their worldly possessions every two years, pack them up and move somewhere else. For this post, I'm going to get into the details of that last bit.

We're less than three weeks from leaving post. In this time frame we're expected to pack-out so that our belongings can clear customs while we're still here in the country, or something like that. Meanwhile we get to live out of the "welcome kit" for our final weeks (provided one has remembered to request it from the warehouse that is).  Some folks don't remember this and are left waving goodbye to the moving crew in a completely empty house. 

What all does pack-out entail? This year, it meant that for three solid days my husband and I have touched every single belonging of ours and had to designate each item one of to the following categories:

1. Will never use again = give away to charity, friends, housekeeper, co-workers
2. May use again, but not at the next post, maybe because of space restrictions in new housing, electricity changes in new country or wrong climate = long term storage
3. Will use again, but not in the near future (ie holiday decorations, wrong-season clothing, camping gear etc...) = Household Effects aka HHE to arrive approx 3 months after arrival at next post
4. Will need to use within one month/shortly after arriving at training or at new post = Unaccompanied Air Baggage aka UAB, still takes about a month to arrive even though the "A" in the name seems to infer AIR travel to the destination
5. Must use on a regular basis = stuff into luggage/car and hide from movers so they don't pack it into long-term storage by tragic accident

Each category now has to be moved into a separate physical space in our house so as not to get mixed up with the other categories.  The Tabbies and category five will be hiding in our bedroom while the swarm of bees moving crew goes about their work wrapping and boxing everything up tomorrow.  We've packed-out five times in fewer than four years now and so far have had only one broken tea tray (we glued it back together) and one plastic frame (we got a new one). Not a bad record, the credit going completely to the various moving crews who have done all the heavy lifting (pun intended). 

The Foreign Service hiring process should include evaluation on the elements of the pack-out process, which draw more on logistics and planning skills than anything else. It is not for the faint of heart, the pack-rat nor the procrastinators among us. Having pets or children only complicates matters, as it requires imagining exactly what arriving at wherever will look like, and what will be needed vs. what will be available. This year, we're heading to home leave first, so we need to plan for litter boxes, cat food bowls, climate-correct clothing, books, and other things to keep us occupied for one month.  And all that must fit into our car.

Arriving for training at the Foreign Service Institute, we have to have a supply of business-casual clothing for the Northern Virginia climate, plus paperwork and files for travel/ transfer orders and vouchers, Department ID badges that we haven't used in two years, and any language materials we may have picked up along the way. 

Arriving at post, we need fancy meet-the-Ambassador clothes, appropriate work clothes which will completely depend on your post and assignment and climate, extra photos for the obligatory country ID cards, PLUS the same lengthy list and quantity of survival equipment for pets and family members who will now be stuck alone in new house or apartment while we head off to work.  

ALL this needs to be completely planned in the few days before pack-out!

Now do you see why I'm complaining?  

In 24 hours the brunt of it all will be over for us and we will be enjoying the comforts of our scraped-bare home and the contents of the welcome kit.  The thoughtfully provided sugar bowl and creamer set will complement the cup of tea I will boil up in the single cooking pot. We can dish out fruit cocktail or sorbet from the small carved glass bowls offered for such occasions, but then we'll retire to bed under the single, fleece throw blanket and coverlet offered to warm us in our over-the-garage bedroom (ie no insulation) in January's sub-freezing temps. Ahh... I shouldn't fuss, the welcome kit did provide us with four of each plate, bowl and piece of silverware, cleaning tools, an ironing board and iron, and very thoughtfully, a TV and an ashtray for late nights of stress relief after the whole ordeal. 

To illustrate my little rant, I offer the following glimpses into our real-life example:

No, No! Not another pack-out and move! Wake me when it's all over.

Advice: Separate all items into UAB, HHE, Storage and Luggage.
This was our living room, now is our UAB room. Can you judge what 450 lbs looks like?

Just leave us a bit of space, please. It's a simple request.

For HHE. And why do we have so many pillows?

Last year's welcome kit sheets were turquoise zebra print. This year we're more muted with beige stripes, gray blanket and chocolate and strawberry pillow cases. Any guesses whose side of the bed is whose?

Winter Coats and Sunglasses: It's Christmastime in Juarez!

Now that the excitement of getting our new assignment has quieted down, it's back to focusing on life in the present instead of the future. 

Speaking of presents: it's Christmastime in the borderlands! 
While Juarez can't compete with Bogota's lighted wonderland of city parks with their fake snow machines and nightime bike riding on the cyclovia, Mexico does have some awesome traditions that we've been learning about.

Two weeks ago it started with our first posada, which is like the Colombian novena where people gather with friends and family in the evenings during the weeks leading up to Christmas.  Two weeks ago we went to our first posada, invited by a neat guy who works in the Consulate's warehouse.  He gave us rather vague directions involving going to a particular landmark bar where nearby we'd see a road and a private house. After a half-dozen u-turns on a busy avenue, looking for the nondescript road and private house, we finally called him and were directed down a scary, dark, narrow dirt lane that dead-ended in a dirt parking area in front of a cluster of tiny houses and the posada well underway.  It was a terribly cold night, so there were bonfires going from trash barrels and people warming up in the small three-room house in front of huge pots of pozole.  Pozole is a spicy soup made of broth with hunks of pork and/or chicken stewing away with hominy and then garnished to taste with fresh lime juice, sliced radishes and chopped onion. It was delicious!  After having our fill of pozole, we went outside into the dirt lane to see our host's family perform as dancing matachines.  You can take a quick look at this link, or just picture what looks like a Native American dance, complete with dancers of all ages and both genders in headdresses, beaded and fringed pants and skirts and a nearly trance-like devotion by the dancers to keep up with the rhythm of the heavy drum section.  The Mexican twist is that it's done in devotion to the Virgin de Guadalupe in a representation of paganism vs. Christianity.  El mal (evil) was represented by what looked like a guy dressed in a Halloween hobo costume who is apparently defeated by good in the end - no big surprise there.  Three families of matachines came in one after another, and after watching for nearly an hour, the drumming and dancing still hadn't missed a beat. The cold finally got to us and we left with the festivities still in full swing.

The next night, our neighborhood had its third and final party of the year in the park in front of our house.  Besides pozole, tamales are also Mexican Christmas traditions and there was a huge table full of trays of red, green and sweet tamales.  It seems that many Latin American countries claim to have the first, the best, or the only kind of tamales and we certainly saw the Colombian version wrapped in banana leaves with whole hunks (sometimes with bones) of chicken.  But here we have a version that is more familiar to me, wrapped in corn husks and full of shredded beef. There are red and green ones depending on the chiles used, and the sweet ones were stuffed with raisins and some kind of sweet-tart filling.  After the eating came the music until the early hours of the morning. We were warm in bed by that time and only catching strains of karaoke drifting from across the street.  

Finally we had our own Second Annual "Why did I put THAT in my HHE?" white elephant gift exchange with a big group of friends and coworkers. HHE = household effects, i.e. the stuff that we start dragging around the world, growing in size like a snowball through the years. Our first party was in Bogota, and we had such a fun time we decided to do it again.  People really got into the spirit of getting rid of things they'd been packing around for a while, including among many other things: a 3-foot hookah from Tunisia, many small kitchen appliances that seemed useful at the time, a much-coveted set of Super Hero glasses, a 4-DVD set of the Andy Griffith Show (now on our shelf), a 2004 DreamWeaver user's manual, a bird feeder and pounds of bird seed (which were actually from different people, but married up in the end) and a 10-pound stone molcajete (guacamole grinder) - among other things.  My husband made pots of Mexican hot chocolate and mulled wine and we shared plates of Christmas cookies and a giant San Francisco sourdough loaf of bread shaped like a snowman.   There was lots of cheering each other on in stealing presents and I think we've started a tradition to carry on to our future posts. 

Meanwhile, it's crisp and cold outside and our garden has gone dormant with the last leaves of our pretty umbrella trees finally hitting the ground. We have a gorgeous red male cardinal visiting us and about eight ring-neck doves fluffed up to keep warm in the garden each morning. 

Next week will be our first Christmas in Mexico.
Feliz Navidad everyone!

Sunday Snapshots

There is a blog I like to read that specializes in what the author refers to as "Wordless Wednesdays" where she posts a photo or two instead of writing. I thought I could do a bit of the same today, in a lazy-Sunday sort of way. I'll have to caption the pictures or you'll wonder why I'm showing you all a photo of my sheets and pillows. Here in pictures I offer you all a slice of our daily life and a few snippets from weekend road trips we've taken in the Juarez/New Mexico/El Paso region:

A place for everyone and everyone in their place.

One reason why we get danger pay.

Another reason why we get danger pay. Even the drinking fountains can't be trusted!

Exhibit A: How you can tell that someone's household effects haven't arrived yet. 

Exhibit B: How you can tell that someone's household effects haven't arrived yet.

Day Trip #1: Charro exhibition, traditional Mexican cowboying - it's a family affair with multiple generations all participating. 

Mas Charros!

Day Trip #2: White Sands National Monument, NM - Awesome!

Wild grasses thrive in the gypsum

Watch out for the yellow... sand?

Darn shame about the 50 mph winds that day...yes, really. 

At the end of the day - it's across the border we go.

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.

Our HHE has arrived!

I think the title says it all.
After over three months, our complete shipment of Household Effects arrived at our doorstep yesterday. This is the stuff that Tim packed up in late August, but I hadn't seen it since March when I left for FSI. So - are we excited to have our belongings with us?

Yes and no.

Yes - 60 more pounds of clumping cat litter arrived, plus all our kitchen stuff. I guess I should put those things in opposite order, but our lovely empty kitchen is now packed full. I was enjoying the free space in the kitchen after living with a "galley kitchen" for nearly 14 years (Tim called it a "one-butt kitchen" and swatted at me with a dish towel when I came in while he was cooking dinner). At least we now have more than four plates, four forks, four glasses etc... We also received our music collection, favorite prints for the white-on-white walls and a vacuum that doesn't suck - or that does suck - well, you know what I mean.

No - After having lived without these things since March, I'd grown quite used to being without them. The free space is wonderful and not having to dig through stuff in cupboards or drawers to find whatever it is that I'm looking for is a luxury. Also, many of the things feel like they're attached to a different life. Especially the clothes suited for a different climate, different work environment, different pastimes and hobbies.

We received about 60 boxes from the nice moving company. Not a thing was broken, not even scratched. Three champagne flutes and over a dozen glasses of all styles arrived in perfect shape; it was quite the testament to well-planned boxes and liberal amounts of tan packing paper. I know others have horror stories, but I'd like to add this happy ending to the mix to let people know it is possible.

If we may add a word or two of advice to those choosing "to bring or not to bring":
Don't bring.

This is just one couple's opinion, but I've heard it from others as well. To start, you will have to wait anywhere from 3-12 months for your things to arrive, depending if you stay at FSI for lengthy training or not, and by that time you will have acclimated to not living with these things. They may feel like interlopers in your new life, not quite fitting in and possibly cramping your new style.

What about the things that are very meaningful, irreplaceable even, that you don't want to be without? My coworker who just left Libya with only two suitcases lost all her belongings, including family photos and momentoes from her children's growing up. Her things are still in the house where she was living, or at least that's where they were left when she had to immediately evacuate. Who knows who has their hands on them now. If something is irreplaceable, you may want to consider not bringing it for fear of losing or damaging it in transit or in the event of an evacuation. It's not something we like to think of, but it happens.

So here we are, boxes mostly unpacked, kitchen cupboards stuffed ("Why do two people need 20 coffee mugs?") and clothes shoved into drawers where many of them will sit unworn for the next two years. We're already researching charity options for some of it.

If you're on a hiring register now, or if you're awaiting your clearances in the hopes of heading to FSI in the near future, may I suggest that you start garage-saleing, eBaying, Craig's Listing and giving to charity as much as you can stomach. Trim your sails now and enjoy the flavor of your new life when you get to your first post.

Just remember to pack extra cat litter - it's expensive out here!

Quick Question for Saturday

How can you tell if someone's Household Effects (HHE) have arrived or not?

See Exhibit A below and decide for yourself:

Yes, those are more meat trays. They are proving to be quite multi-purposeful.

In case there is any lingering doubt, no, after 14 weeks our HHE has still not arrived.

Soon, though, soon - maybe only two weeks more.

Resourcefulness

Subtitle: What to do before your HHE arrives

First, let me define my terms: HHE =  Household Effects, basically your stuff. This is the stuff that gets packed up and sent over land to the edge of the land, and then via boat to your new country. This process takes months. When it arrives in your new country, the MFA (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) has to allow customs to release it so that nice men in jumpsuits can bring it to your house in cardboard boxes the size and strength of which I'd never seen before. Really, you could live in one of these things. HHE is not to be confused with your UAB - Unaccompanied Air Baggage. Please don't be fooled by the "A" in the title and think that this stuff (weight restricted to 250 lbs for the employee and 200 lbs for the spouse) gets here at the speed of an airplane. Tim has been here four weeks now and apparently the airplane from Seattle with his UAB still hasn't made a blip on the Bogota radar screen. He has been living out of his suitcase since arriving.

So what does one do while waiting for your stuff? You get resourceful. I'd like to give you a few examples that Tim has come up with:

We have highly-polished State Department-provided wood tables and nightstands that we don't want to damage with cup and glass rings; we need coasters. Why look at this styrofoam meat packaging! Bit of soap and water, a pair of scissors and we now have chic black coasters on each table. Got houseplants? Use the entire meat tray and the lip will keep the water from dribbling onto the table. 

They sell roses for about $5 a dozen here, or $7 for three stems of lillies that will last two weeks and perfume the whole apartment. But what are you going to put them in? Empty wine bottles, of course.

Our bathroom is a well-organized shrine to dinners-past with the nail clippers, scissors and other little bathroom objects neatly corraled in a green plastic tub that our sliced mushrooms came in. The Q-Tips? Always tidy and within reach in a tomato paste jar. The sugar next to the coffee pot got the same treatment.

In the kitchen, we only have what the "welcome kit" provided us. This kit comes in a sturdy Rubbermaid footlocker and has 4 plates, 4 bowls, 4 knives, forks, spoons, a few pots - you get the picture. Therefore although we have a lovely dishwasher, we can't use it for anything more than a drying rack as we simply don't have enough dishes to spare. Having company for dinner can be a challenge, and the other night we hosted two friends and warned them that it was a "BYOPM" affair (Bring Your Own Placemat). When it's just Tim and I, magazines serve us well under our dinnerplates, but for company... well, it would just have been a bit tacky. I'm not sure what we'll do if we ever invite more than two people: BYOPKFS?

By the time our stuff actually does arrive, it'll feel extraneous; we've got just about all we need now!

Okay, except for my tea kettle. I really miss my tea kettle.