Chapter Three: Language Training

I've titled this post "Chapter Three" feeling that Chapter One was our Specialist Orientation, Chapter Two was our OMS Training and now I've moved away from the security of my buddies and on to the next phase: twelve weeks of language training in which three unsuspecting native Spanish speakers will try - patiently please - to shape my Spanglish into the real deal. Real enough to answer calls and questions accurately and professionally in an embassy setting, that is.

(Sidebar: I learned on my first day that "Ambassador" in Spanish is "embajador," which to me just sounds like I'm saying it in English with a lisp; I'll get over it.)

So here we are: seven classmates in a room with our native Cuban instructor. Seven is a larger class than the language department seems to prefer, so they promise that we'll be shaken out into smaller groups soon enough; they want to get a feel for how we learn, what we know (and don't know) etc... Across from me sits a man who has a wife and newborn (six days old) at home. He doesn't sleep yet and is terribly afflicted by his allergies. Next to me is a friendly guy who's not shy at all about trying new vocabulary and, when in doubt, seems to be making up words that sound Spanish. He makes the teacher laugh often, but in a good way, and this reaction doesn't seem to slow him down. 

It dawned on me today that our group is clearly embodying the seven dwarves: the new dad is both Sleepy and Sneezy; Bashful is the reserved woman at the other end of the table who confided to me that the class was difficult for her; Doc sits at the head of the table with his good accent and knowledge of slang from working in Corrections, and I'm doing my best to be Happy instead of Dopey or Grumpy!

Ostensibly we'll be with the same teacher for one month before they cycle us through to another to help us learn via a different style and different accent. Our teacher speaks to us in Spanish probably 75% of the time, of which I understand also about 75%, better than I'd anticipated, actually. It's fun, and I keep reminding myself that the State Department is paying me a nice salary to learn a language; I owe it to them (and myself) to make the most of this opportunity. We have mas o menos four hours of language class per day, plus self-study time in the labs where we can access any one of a multitude of programs: flashcards, videos, tele-novelas, grammar quizes etc... So long as the person behind you isn't practicing conjugating Italian verbs WAY TOO LOUDLY while you're studying - it's great (hey dude, keep it down, will ya'?).

Speaking of which, I need to get cracking on my homework. Besides, I'm dying to find out if Sofia ever finds the long-lost wife of Senor Gomez whom she has tracked from Spain to Argentina. (She's getting so close... I can't stop watching now!)

Toby Shows Off

Subtitle: I think my cat has been reading my new wall map

Identification:
Me - me
Toby - Housecat with too much time on his paws

So, I heard you tell one of your friends that you still don't believe my full understanding of what's going on, and you think I'm just sitting on the bed all day. But you're wrong. I do listen, and when you're away at that place you go everyday, I've been busy. Ease off with that scooper for a sec and just LOOK at what I've done for you:



Wow! That's pretty accurate Tobe. I apologize for underestimating not only your English comprehension, but your map-reading skills and - quite frankly - your aim. Let's just compare and see what our readers have to say:

 Just tell them to please notice that I've rather specifically "pointed out" Bogota, too.

Well you sure did, but you did so by peeing on our future home, Tobe. I don't think that's very good manners to our hosts.

They will recognize and appreciate fine art when they see it.

I'm tired of trying to please you; I'm going back to bed.

Blossoms and Roots

Blossoms

Springtime has hit me, metaphorically and literally.
Last Sunday I spent nearly the whole day, under amazingly bright blue skies and temps in the mid-70s, wandering through Arlington National Cemetary for my first time. With a day like that, I can't boast that I had the place to myself, but I can show you some pictures of how beautifully in full-bloom the spring trees and flowers were:

And dripping in my favorite color: pink!

I spent a good few hours exploring up and down the hills of the massive grounds, overlooking DC to the East and the Potomoc in between. For all of you who've been there already, you know the setting. Each of my sojourns into DC reignites that patriotic feeling of being part of the Big Team now, something that has carried me through the months (years) of work and waiting to get here. Therefore springtime just feels like the right season to be in now: budding, growing, opening to something better.

Roots

Meanwhile, the past six weeks - during which my classmates and I have been the target of a deluge of new information - are starting to gel and settle into our new lives. Perhaps tiny trepidatious roots are starting to grow? We've been learning about how to do our new jobs; we've researched the cultures of our new host countries; we've read the names of our new co-workers and some of us have had e-mails or even met them in person. We've completed presentations about the issues we'll encounter when we get to our assignments and a lucky few have even seen photos of our new homes (I haven't yet - but if you want to see a room full of women squeal and run to one computer monitor en masse - just announce, "I've got my housing pictures!"). All the while we're still finishing the closing up our current/old lives here.

I'm noticing that the disparate snippets of information I've been gathering are starting to fit together into full sentences of knowledge. So far it's been like one big game of Concentration, where I've been turning over two cards at a time, hoping for a match. I'm starting to remember where things are, what they mean, how they fit together. Finally. Even the Tabbies are settling into a nice routine. Each day when I come home from FSI on the shuttle with my classmates, I walk through the door, set down my bags and call out to them so they know I'm not the (dreaded-she-with-a-vacuum) housekeeper, and I hear two thumps of kitties jumping onto the carpet. Dodger always comes to greet me first, still ruffled and warm from his spot on the bed, and Toby a moment later - bellowing hello.

A routine equals roots, right? A settling-in and relaxation in one's environment.

Perhaps it's all a circle, and these roots will soon form their own blossoms.

That's all for now.

Swearing-In and more

I have been meaning to write about our official Swearing-In Day for some time now, as it was two weeks ago already on the last day of our Specialist Orientation. In Main State's top floor diplomatic reception rooms, with an amazing view of the Capitol, the Washington Monument and all things essentially DC, we repeated the official oath that we had given on our very first day. That day most of us were exhausted, excited and stuffed into suits as we recited a quickie version which (we were told) enabled us to become official employees and - basically - get paid.

However, on this day, the "real deal," we were instead exhausted, excited, stuffed into suits and seated in these really awesome surroundings in front of our collected families and a list of notable State Department big wigs. (To see the text of our oath, I'm going to direct you to my classmate Heidi. Scroll down a bit to see where she posts our oath.) Tim flew out from Seattle for a long weekend for the ceremony and to start getting a taste of his new life. My in-laws, Don and Mary Hartford, came up from Richmond to complete my cheering section and it was fun to have such a venue as the backdrop.

We were in the Benjamin Franklin room specifically, surrounded by an awesome "can-we-touch-this?" array of American history, to include ole' Ben's writing desk and some really cool paintings of various Founding Fathers. Even the drapes were impressive! Our Orientation leader, Paula, gave the opening remarks to the assembled families, after she made us pinky-swear that we wouldn't make faces at her to crack her up. She pulled it off perfectly, doing a very a professional job as the Public Diplomacy Officer she is, and then it was Deputy Secretary Nides' turn. He was super. Besides being the shiniest brass we'd met so far (just under Hillary), he was also very "real" and joked about his teenage daughter and then told us that this was one of his favorite parts of his job: bringing fresh  meat (my words) into the Foreign Service and into the mission of diplomacy. He also said that out of all facets of business, politics and industry in which he'd worked, he thought that the Foreign Service people were the smartest. Yeah, that was pretty cool to hear.

We all stood to recite the brief oath and then tossed our caps into the air, no wait, that's not it, and then politely clapped and then in a choreographed bunch, moved over to take our group photo. Last time we'll all be standing shoulder-to-shoulder before being cast to the wind, sniff sniff. The ceremony was short, sweet, yet effectively patriotism-injecting.

By the next morning our Diplomatic Security commrades had packed up to move to their training center to the south. The rest of us will stay on at FSI and receive training in our specialties, some in our languages - some not - and by late April, the very first of us will start to trickle to the airport.


Tim and I spent the next two days visiting DC's sites and, as he noted, being signed into and out of secure buildings requiring various badges and codes. True true. But I think he liked it anyway.  (Sidebar: folks out here call it "Washington," but we know where the real Washington is - so I'm going to be stubborn and continue to refer to it as DC.)

I shoulda' known

You know how they say that the all the answers to our "big" questions are generally right in front our faces and yet we don't see them?

While I was agonizing over which post I'd be assigned to and resorting to hiring feline soothsayers to give me their predictions (see previous posts), all along the answer was right here in my vegetable drawer on my chives packet and it wasn't until today that I saw it:

Moral(s) of the story:

1. For those of you dying of impatience and waiting to hear your assignments (yes 160th A-100 - I'm talking to you!) or those of you day-dreaming at home about your FS futures: take a look around you and be open to the answers that are so close you may not even notice them. They're calling out to you as you walk by: "Look, I'm that Russian nesting doll that you got from the exchange student in the 10th grade where you keep your loose change; you're going to Moscow!" Or, "Hey, look at me; I'm the Chinese restaurant menu that just appeared under your apartment door one day. You're going to Shenyang!" Let the answers come to you; they're out there.

-And-

1. Sometimes you have to listen to the Chives Talking.