the universe is abundant

Flying to New Orleans was long and painful, but things really could not have gone better. 

And C was there to meet me and it's like no time has passed.  And then we went to our mutual friend's condo ... and the key didn't work.  I said I'm totally fine sleeping on C and J's couch (prefer it, really), but then I got the real story about people staying with them with three untrained dogs.  Oh.  Before I could stop him, he was on the phone with a friend of theirs who said of course I can stay with them and the guestroom is already set up.

A friend of theirs, not a friend of mine.  We knew each other through law school because of J, but we were never friends.  I found her abrasive, narcissistic.  I never really spoke ill of her, I hope, and I didn't harbor her any ill will.  I just didn't really like her, and would deliberately avoid interacting with her.

Then law school was over and I'd visit C and J and there was forced social interaction with this friend of theirs, and I started to see a different side of her.  I don't dislike her now, but I wouldn't call us friends.  She's not even in my phone. 

But they have a great house in a great neighborhood, and she just said I can stay here the whole two weeks I'm in town, if I want.  Her boyfriend is less convinced that this is a good idea, but I can never get a read on him.  She basically dictates everything to him, and he complies.  This seems to work well for them. 

I am continuously amazed with the abundance in my life, of how people really step up.   

perspective

When I was a freshman in college, I had a crush on a boy.  He was charming and his mother was foreign, making him exotic to me.

I grew up on an isolated island in Alaska, reading voraciously and dreaming of an exotic life.  When I was in 5th grade and the teacher had us plan where we would be in 2000, I said I would be a CIA agent in various interesting places across the world.  (Other girls dreamed of boys and weddings and children and families.  I dreamed of destabilizing the governments of tyrants.  Instead I attempt to stabilize governments through rule of law ... not so sexy to a 10-year-old, but fits better with my moral code.)

I remember this boy's sister coming back from studying a year abroad in Germany, and to outsiders it must have appeared that i was trying to get close to the boy by interrogating his sister.  And I did have a pretty serious crush, but far more than that was a desire to pick her brain about that year and her experiences.

She looked at me, tired, and gave a few platitudes.  She knew I wouldn't get it, and she wasn't going to try.  I didn't push it.

I never did a "junior year abroad" or a peace corps stint.  Instead, I dropped out of college after that year and just landed in Germany and made my way.  Years later, I quit my career and sold my house to go to an African refugee camp.  I don't do so well with the constraints of programs, so I make my own adventures.

And now after so many years, I get how the older sister felt.  I cannot possibly explain my life in Liberia, or even this life in Baku.  And optimistic naive folks get on my nerves.  Big time.  And I don't usually try to disabuse them of their ridiculous notions unless they're all up in my face about it because I'm tired.  They'll come around, or they'll go back to their shelters of stability and comfort of home and tell stories and think they got it when they so, so did not.

When I first got here, I talked about Liberia constantly.  I was trying to make sense of a whole lot of crazy, and I think aloud.  Now when I meet new people, I rarely bring it up.  I'm still hamster-wheeling trying to make any sense, but they won't get it and I won't try.

I'm jaded, I'm cynical, and I'm mostly right.  I'm not bitter or too worn down - I just see things much better now.

I think of a taxi ride in 2004.  I was riding with a big muckety-muck in the refugee field, and we'd just gotten the Darfur resolution passed.  I was riding high because I'd worked hard. "This?  It means nothing," he said.  I argued with him, and he gave me that tired look.

I know the look well. 

The thing is, because I don't overstate or believe in any grand importance of little things, I'm better in this work.  I see big picture and I demand results.

I also let people think I lead some sort of sexy, exciting life.  Of course my life is neither.  I just show up and I do my best.  And maybe what I do is like spitting in the ocean, but maybe something "takes" and the world is a better place because of my efforts. 

***
And this line from Emma's War:  "But it seemed impossible to transmit this small, personal knowledge back to the West; in every case it became garbled, mutated into visions of grandiosity or metastasized into furies of disappointment ... If Africa couldn't be saved in a very short time and at very little cost, then to hell with it -- anyone who went there must be a saint." 

Trust me, friends.  I'm no saint.  And if my belabored, prolonged explanations don't convince you of that, then I don't know how to. 

another point of view

I just went out to brunch with colleague and her visiting family.  I thought it'd be us and some other colleagues, but instead there were three other expats with different jobs. 

It was quite interesting.  They see an Azerbaijan I do not.  Many things to do, adventures to seek.

It would not be bad to stay here longer.  Very nice people everywhere I go, and I could keep myself entertained. 

Funny that this is the first time I meet them, the day before I leave to visit a place I will likely move back to. 

Ah, universe.  I see the fun you have with me.  Throwing all sorts of possibilities at me and making me agonize over the choice-making.  Haha.  Joke's on me.  Though I can hardly complain. 

connections

I just made a lunch date with a colleague in New Orleans, and I have to marvel.

We were in law school together for three years, and my first impressions of him were not favorable - and likely his of me were likewise also not favorable.

He's ... a redneck meathead.  He's unabashed about his addiction to steroids and mocks notions of 'roid rage.  He's very conservative and very outspoken about it, mocking people with different viewpoints.

But we got to know each other because he and I were among the few white students who hung out much with black students, so we had common friends that way and ended up in study rooms together.  This is how I learned that unlike most people he doesn't PRETEND to not be racist through his speech yet live a segregated life.  While he questioned things like affirmative action and liberal explanations for racial aspects of crime, he actually respects - and mocks - all people equally.  And while he has some southern notions of gentlemanliness, he actually acts more respectful than sexist.  When my friend K started hanging out with him, I knew he was cool because she tolerates bullshit from no one. 

Then I learned more ... how much he loves his wife, his dog, his horse.  And I learned he's a man of integrity, even if I don't always understand his standards of integrity.  He makes stupid boy jokes and always carries weapons and is extremely muscle-bound - but he's neither stupid nor violent.  We're just different.

We never became friends, but knew a little about each other and were more open-minded.

And then after law school I changed my name.  I didn't announce it until it was finished, so nobody knew.  To make the judge approve it, I needed a letter from the DA approving it (to show I'm not trying to hide from law enforcement).  Dealing with any officials in New Orleans is a special circle of hell, and I was on a ride with nobody knowing whom I should speak to. 

I stepped off an elevator, exasperated, and there was colleague.  We chatted and I learned he was clerking at the DA's office, so I explained it all.

And so this fellow, so very different from me, became the first person to know about my name change.  And I'm sure he thought it was so stupid - most men do - but he was never an ass about it.  And he made sure the letter was sent to the judge.

So we've had a few Facebook interactions which clarify our world-view differences, but we're not jerks.  Why be jerks? 

And then he left the prosecutor's office to become a public defender, which is a SHOCKING change. 

So I want to find out what the real story is there.  And i want to bounce ideas off him about my own professional future, and I want to hear how things are in New Orleans now. 

So we will meet for lunch.  Me and this man I never would have imagined as a friend of any kind. 

I like how life works. 

And yesterday at TED talk, a Peace Corps Volunteer was there whom I'd met briefly once.  We struck up conversation and I introduced her to Bossman's wife.  Turns out, she works with one of Bossman's relatives and they started sharing tales and made connections with concrete plans for further contact. 

Small world.  This is why I introduce people.  You never know what connections will be drawn. 

Sometimes I think I'm too reserved - I don't get out much, don't meet many people, even when I know it's a positive thing.  But I have to balance it, as knowing people takes a LOT of my energy, and I like to be very selective. 

Sometimes too selective, probably.  But maybe not. 

food

I just "discovered" again - for the millionth time - that my cooking tastes better, is healthier, and is WAY cheaper than any restaurant. 

I was trying to wean myself off cooking because I resent the time it takes. 

But honestly?  Then I just eat doritos and cookies for dinner.  And that is not a good option.  So then I eat out more and am horrified with how expensive it is and frankly, I have yet to be really impressed with any food here.  (There are likely really good restaurants that are way outside my price range.) 

When I come back, I need to stop eating the cook's food.  It's so convenient and cheap, but it's really unhealthy - things like really oily pasta with dry yet oily chicken (how is that possible?).  She does make salads but never cooks vegetables, and I'm so tired of cucumbers and tomatoes you cannot imagine. And her unhealthy food makes me get strong cravings for more unhealthy food and ... my clothes don't fit.

Ah, my clothes.  Doing laundry, wishing I had a clothes dryer.

Figured out where those pants went that I lost ... one day I tried to use the clothes rack outside to dry clothes - the one I was told works so well - and then it got really windy so I went out and some pants were on the balcony and I'll bet that pair flew away.  Ugh.  Oh well.  Not the end of the world for sure, just annoying.

personal branding

Today I went to TED here in Baku (If you don't know, it's a gathering of people presenting about ideas).  There were some interesting ideas, my favorite being about Islam and a middle way that requires liberal democracy.  (I may have crushed out on that speaker absolutely and immediately ordered his latest book.)

Another speaker was about personal branding, and honestly I'd never even considered this. He showed some fun logos of people's names and ... I liked it.  Quite a lot.  And he talked about how people discuss others no matter what, and don't you want to have some influence on those discussions?

One thing he said to do is use a blog, and the more I think about it, the more I like it.  Obviously I will NOT use this blog, but I could start a new one - one where I don't share my innermost thoughts and dirty laundry, but where the public face of me can show.  I can talk more openly about my jobs, details of my life and lives, and share pictures.

(I stopped liking pictures of me a few years ago, but at my current job they're snapping photos all the damn time and i have to suck it up.  Sometimes they're not horrible, so it would be fun to share.)

I have done really interesting things but I always understate and try to keep a really low profile, frequently making sure google can't track me down.

But why not put myself out there in a positive way?  Why not be easy to find, by prospective employers and clients, in a public way that accentuates the positives of my experiences and skills?

Hm.  Food for thought. 

Would love to hear what anybody else thinks!  

what went wrong with my own warlord

I've been reading Emma's War: An aid worker, a warlord, radical Islam, and the politics of oil--a true story of love and death in Sudan for a couple of months now.  


It it very slow going because it's dense with details of Sudan that I don't want to miss, but also - it's painfully familiar.  While there are many, many differences between me and the title "character" Emma, it's too obvious to deny our similarities in falling for a "warlord" (which is really a ridiculous term in both situations).


But now I'm to the part where I can see the differences.  While VIM charmed me in similar ways, I didn't fully fall.  To be fair, I did fall in love with him and I continue to carry a torch for him that I fervently hope will someday be extinguished, but I didn't fall all the way.  In the age of google, I found many of his alleged sins before he turned on the charms.  But also just my nature: I trust no one.  Not fully.  


VIM liked my intellectual challenges but they also made him realize I wasn't drinking the kool-aid.  Not then, not ever.  While I can be very loyal, I'm not an unquestioning believer of anything.  He found this very attractive in me but at the same time it was a wedge between us because he wanted me to be lost in blind adulation to him.  


I also kept my boundaries and made clear they wouldn't be coming down.  Maybe that's not the way to approach love, but if you're talking about plunking feminist me into the middle of a polygamous mess with a chauvinist, then those boundaries would be staying up.  Every time he was flaky, I was going to call him out on it.  He hated this.  He didn't think he should be held to such high standards.  He thought *I* should be, but not him.  


So when I read of Emma chasing Riek about as he was here and there and never keeping her informed, I can relate, even if it was just showing up to his office for appointments we had, or to his compound for dates.  I did admirable workarounds by becoming very good friends with VIM's staff, and when he would finally arrive it was always with good reasons for his tardiness and a good heaping of charm, but I still spent too many hours of my life waiting for that man.  I was never going to be ok with that.  Warlord's prerogative, to make people wait. A way to show who is important and in power.  If I were a good wife (because he already was introducing me as his wife before I left), I would accept this without problem.  But I was not, am not, will not be.  I am also important, and I want a romantic relationship based on mutual respect and not revolving a man's ego that is larger than all of West Africa.  And no, it didn't make me feel better that I always got preferential treatment - frequently bumping other appointments and claims on his time and attention.  I wanted him to learn to treat EVERYBODY respectfully. 


When Riek was responsible for a massacre of people, Emma denied it.  And maybe I could be that blindly in love with somebody someday ... but I'd like to think I wouldn't, and I know it definitely wouldn't ever be with VIM.  Maybe if I were 20 years younger?  But I think not.  


So ultimately ... though I still have 70 pages left in this book ... I think it's helping me see: I was the problem in our relationship, if by problem you mean critical thinker who doesn't find human rights violations acceptable.  


And if this means that I lost a chance at the greatest love I will ever know - because I will not deny the incredible love we do feel for each other - then so be it.  I'm going to be ok with that. Because while I don't want to judge and punish him for his past, I don't need a lifetime of wondering who is going to accuse him of moral lapses in the future.

inching towards evening the score

I asked IT Guy if there's anything he wants me to bring him from the U.S.  Next thing I know, I'm ordering a $500 fancy phone (twice what I'm paying for the computer I'm getting). 

He'll pay me for it, of course, but by bringing it for him it'll save him over $200. 

I'm so freaking happy to do it for him.  I would carry a backpack full of rocks for him, all that he does for me. 

It doesn't make us anywhere close to even, but finally.  Something I can do for him besides buy him chocolate.  

inshallah

Yesterday I was setting a date for a training with a local staff attorney, and she asked if I'm leaving June 15 for sure.  "For sure?  Really?  You ask me "for sure"?  Who ever knows, my friend.  Inshallah."

She laughed and said, "Oh, I love it."  k

I'm not a normal Westerner.  I do not force the future to fit my plans, because I know "man plans and god laughs."  Things happen.  I flow.  This makes me unusual, I know, but it makes me really Azerbaijani.

Azerbaijanis work hard, as a culture (meaning there are of course exceptions to that rule, but it's a valued trait).  They plan, too.  But everything is always with an "inshallah" hue.

Inshallah means basically "God willing."  I don't know if this is an Arab notion that became more widespread with Islam, or if it's an Orient vs. Occident kind of thing.  What I do know is that when I lived in an Eskimo village in Alaska I encountered this very much.

"Will you do your homework?"  "Will you be in class tomorrow?"  "Will you be on time?"  "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I'll try."

This "I'll try" made me crazy until one of my smart and brave students called me out.  "We cannot predict the future and we cannot make the universe and God do what we want.  We can try but there are no guarantees.  We could die, we could have an earthquake.  Who knows."

I think that in most Western minds, there's always a "force majeure" clause.  Of course I'll PLAN to be at work tomorrow but if this coast is wiped off the map I won't make it.  Goes without saying.  But for a lot of people, that is worth saying.

I'm really comfortable with this worldview now, with rolling with things changing and not happening as I predict.  I still seem like a control freak, but I'm not.  I just hold people to their word, but I always have contingency plans and I think on my feet.  I mastered the inshallah with VIM, and we'd even include that word in texts to each other. 

But back to this colleague and why she loves my inshallahing.  She lost her husband of a decade last year to a horrible cancer and suffering.  She still reels from this, and while I cannot fully understand I am gentle with her.  Calling her out on things doesn't work anyway, so why do that?   Perhaps as she was going through her loss, she turned to Sufism.  I don't think she is Sufi, but like me she finds it intriguing and spot-on in many ways.  And Sufism is very much about the inshallahs.  It's very mystical and about one-ness with the universe and god - which means not trying to control and rein in the world, but to flow with it.

The thing about inshallah is that it's reassuring.  Things will happen as they should. 

Inshallah I will spent just over two weeks in New Orleans, but if something happens to make it shorter or longer then that's what's supposed to happen.  I don't plan anything for the days immediately after my scheduled return (unlike an expat colleague who did and then left us all in a difficult situation because of course she didn't make it back).  Inshallah I will leave Azerbaijan on June 15 - that's the date of my return plane ticket, the last day of my work contract and my apartment lease - but who on earth knows what the future holds?  I do not.

I used to really struggle to make the right decisions, to be on the right path.  But now I finally know: there is a multitude of paths, of decisions, and many of them are good.  They'll all take me to the right place somehow. 

justice

Charles Taylor.

Guilty.

Aided and abetted crimes in Sierra Leone. 

Yes.

This is what happened today, and I am happy, but.

What should happen next: Liberians pull their collective heads out of their collective asses and realize that people who do bad things should be held accountable.  That only through THIS - a real justice system that prosecutes those who do horrible things - will their society move forward.  And they will make that decision and move forward with rule of law.

Instead what will happen next: Liberians will scream and shout about bias and prejudice and make up bullshit stories.  They will blame foreigners for not understanding Africa and forcing outsider values on their system that works so well.

Look, don't get me wrong.  I love Liberia and I love many Liberians.  But that is a FUCKED UP PLACE for a reason.

But for today, I will just enjoy that justice prevailed. 

single-handedly restoring my faith in humanity

Me:  This trip, me going away for weeks, is a good thing.  I've become too reliant on you. 

Him:  Is that a bad thing or a good thing, to be reliant on me?

Me:  Bad.  I need you too much. 

Him:  I don't think that's bad.

Me:  I do!  Yesterday I was teaching and the video wasn't working and I didn't know what to do without you there!

Him:  But you could call me any time and I will always help you.

Me:  Dude.  Don't say that.  Three years from now I'll be calling you from depths of some jungle in Africa, crying that my computer won't work.

Him:  And I will say, "What is the problem?"  And I will help you.  Any time. 

good is not enough

Yesterday I went to the university to teach a class.  I've been doing this for maybe a month or so, sharing the responsibility with colleagues. 

It was remarkable to note how the students have changed in that short time.  In the beginning they were good at memorizing and regurgitating, but they were shy and unwilling to think critically or make connections to their own lives.  Just a few weeks of interaction with us, and they are much more active.  SOOOO much more active.  We have class conversations with different viewpoints and connections made and active critical thinking and it's just ... awesome.  I've liked these kids since I met them, but now they're also really enjoyable to spend time with, and it's even remarkable how their English has improved.  They all know that they are expected to participate, and they do.  If they don't know how to say something in English, we support each other.  They know it's ok to not know the right answer but to think things through aloud.  Drastic, drastic changes.

Overall, despite a dud of a professor and a weird academic management environment, it's been a really successful experience and relationship building, and I'm glad I seized the opportunity and dragged others into it - making my colleagues feel more comfortable teaching so building their skills, too. 

A good day. 

And then today I did a training of our staff on report writing, and they GOT IT.  I mean, they really got it.  Even Mr. Thug Life who is dense as a brick and never written a report before understood what he will do.  Not only do they not resent me for these trainings (which they did initially), they all thank me and express specifically how helpful it is and ask for more. 

Another good day. 

It's hard to express how this is not enough for me.  I like to do things well, but it's insufficient.  I also need to learn and grow.  I already know that I am a good teacher - it took me years, but I've got it figured out.  I'm not the best, and I learn from others all the time, but I'm confident with my skills in getting people to learn what I want them to learn.  I know how to plan programming to make that happen, and I know how to adjust when things aren't going as I'd planned. 

But this is not why I became a lawyer.  This is not why I am in Azerbaijan.

I need to always learn more, do more.  If I master something, then it's time to move on.  No resting on my laurels.  And I still hope that law will let me stick around a long time, that I'm only bored with education because I did it for so long.

Maybe life would be a whole lot easier for me if I could just be content when I'm doing something well ... but then I wouldn't be me.

as if I needed another reason

VIM is in the news for some pretty serious accusations of corruption.

Obviously I have no idea if there is any merit to the accusations, and I do not want to know. 

VIM would never say that he considers himself above the law and he makes the point of his ethics regularly, but "ethics" in Liberia is a really slippery thing.  Actions that to me seem completely wrong are justified in ways that I cannot conceptualize but Liberians agree on.  And it's a small country and friendships and loyalties and family relationships are deeper than ethics. 

Now, I can spin and justify just about anything, but I have a very strong ethical sense.  I make it very clear from the beginning and rarely am I tempted to go astray.  This attracted VIM, but it also meant that he hid things from me to avoid having to explain them.  Sometimes I asked ("Were you really a warlord like this book says?") and sometimes I knew the accusations were fueled by disingenuous interests (though I resented his self-victimization in those cases because he often brought things on himself). 

Overall, I think he's a good guy.  But once I was sitting in an audience and he was up at the front and I gasped and turned to The Supervisor, "Oh my god, he looks just like a stereotypical African despot."  "He does not!" she rebuked me.  And, he and texted throughout the event and ended up together again.  He may resemble "The Last King of Scotland," but he had had opportunities to destroy me before and he hadn't, so I didn't fear. 

Overall he may be a good guy but I know his faults too well, and they are why we are not together. 

And this?  Probably being pretty seriously corrupt?  Yeah, I don't need that in my life. 

The way it is now, it was pretty common public knowledge that VIM and I had a thing.  Nobody knows the extent or dimensions of it, but they knew we were together in some way.  Maybe I'm considered his mistress.  But I don't think that I irretrievably ruined my ethical reputation there because it's a highly-sexualized culture.  If I go back, the worst anybody could say is "she used to be friends with VIM." 

Used to be.

No matter what, it needs to stay in the past. 

And he would be so upset if he read this because he would say I am convicting him without a fair trial ... but this isn't about judgment.  This is about keeping my moral compass and clean reputation. 

Done, done, and done.  No more swooping back together, no matter what.  His irresistible charm could push past my fear of the heartbreak I knew he would inflict on me, but no man is worth destroying my values system. 

addicted?

I'm starting to wonder about the amount of time I spend with the computer.

I've killed two and half computers already, and I didn't bring home the limping work one yesterday because I went out to dinner (an enjoyable time, but too expensive). 

So when I got home, I made a good dent in the book about Sudan I've been hauling around for months now.  Then this morning I cleaned, changed sheets, did all sorts of things.

Tonight when i got home with computer what have I done?  Breaking Bad episodes and Facebook. 

The computer is super helpful to me to not feel so isolated in the world - so far away from my people.  Skype, email, Facebook - these are fabulous.  Really. 

But, what about other things?  I'm not reading much, not crafting, not learning a new language.  (My co-workers always marvel at my ability to pronounce Azeri words, but I'm done with any learning of it.)  I'm hoping once I finish Breaking Bad this week that I'll get back into other activities, but I don't know.  The lure of the computer is so strong. Everything I think about, I can check things on the computer if I want. I can look at houses for sale, I can check out Mystikal videos, I can see how old actors are.  But other things too I research, and this internet connection is SLOW.  So it took me many hours to book my plane ticket.  Many hours.  And now I'm reaching out to people I want to see and it takes time. 

So I will pay attention to this and I will try to be less focused on the computer ... but it's my hearth. 

can I keep a secret?

Let me be honest: I'm not good with secrets. I don't like to keep them because it's confusing.

But I will keep secrets if they need to be kept. I will do what needs to be done. I hate lying too, but I used to do it on a very regular basis to check for discrimination in housing. I could walk in there and lie my ass off and people still liked me. My nose didn't grow, my pants didn't light on fire - I was still me, just a version of me telling a tale. It didn't ruin me, which is kind of what I always thought lying would do.

I do keep many secrets and I keep them well. But they're not my secrets. Hell, there are very, very few things about me that at least one person doesn't know.

I just got a copy of the proposal for the gig in Zambia and was told "we have no doubt you will keep this confidential." Oh damn. OK. I'll keep your secrets. But I'm glad I'm trusted because it's a good proposal. I like it. I like how they framed it in general and specifically me. OF course I don't know Zambia so maybe it's all BS, but it looks good to me. Far better than I expected.

And I am their only key personnel. The only person they asked to be involved (or the only one that accepted).

And ... when I mentioned that's a long gap between leaving this job and starting that one, they just told me that maybe the organization can find something short-term for me. Very much like this gig.

I knew it. I KNEW IT. They created this position for me because they wanted to keep me in the organization. It was never advertised or run as open, this program did need to spend more money. I am a little flattered.

For all the frustrations with this organization, it's been rather good to me. Really. And I like the people in charge. I'm sure they do cut-throat things, but I have dined and drunk with several of the bigwigs and I genuinely like them. And that, for me, is rare.

Looking at this proposal made it all seem real. I could go to Zambia. I want to go to Zambia. This proposal was written around me and their perceptions of my skillset.

I have no idea where that leaves me with the rest of my life. I'll worry about that later. I meet with the university advisor next week, and the realtor, and a whole bunch of other people. We met up with Bossman's wife for lunch today and she was like, "Yes, absolutely, you should visit New Orleans to make sure. That is so smart. So often we leave and have happy memories, but to return would be so wrong."

So, next week I will learn. And if New Orleans is not for me, I have many options.

Here's the other thing about secrets today - I walked up to work and IT Guy called out to me. I hadn't even seen him. I was so happy to see him. "Do you hate me?" I asked. "No, not at all. I couldn't ever hate you. Actually, I'm kind of grateful." And he started to tell me about a little cover-up and stopped. "This is a secret, [NOLA]." "OK, I will keep it. I promise."

And I will.

But he stopped and didn't tell me it all. Which is fine - I wouldn't trust me either, and I don't really want to know. Plausible deniability, yo.

loving how it all comes together

I booked my flight to New Orleans before having a place to stay with any certainty, but the thing about New Orleans is ... things always work out.

So the friends I normally always stay with, they have people living with them and visitors. Every space is taken, though of course she offered me space in her bed. That's the kind of person she is.

But another friend just offered me her condo (she lives out of town and the only furniture there is a bed, but that's good enough for sleeping), and I have an inflatable mattress and a couch offered.

I have a ride from the airport and a car to borrow.

Over two weeks is a long time to visit, but things are gonna work out just fine. I didn't even think to get nervous. I show up and then NOLA flows it all just fine.

song of shame

Lenny Kravitz, American Woman.

And it all just came rushing back, how the Thug and I danced and kissed and groped to this song a few weeks back.

Oh yeah. Me and my bad choices. I shake my head at myself. And am not even tempted to call him.

Someday I hope I can reclaim this song without those ridiculous memories. But it's a little stomach churning for now.

clear-headed

I woke up this morning with clarity.

GO TO NEW ORLEANS.

So I bought a ticket: I leave in a week and will be there (inshallah) just over two weeks.

And about staying in Azerbaijan? Sure, I can make a list of reasons to stay, and life is not bad here at all. But ultimately, I stay in a place for one of three reasons: really good money, learning interesting new things, or a kick-ass personal and social life.

New Orleans can never promise me #1, but #2 and #3 will likely be met. And to make sure, I'll go reconnect with this crazy city. See how it feels. If it doesn't feel right, then I can extend my time here until something better comes along.

No more wondering, no more second-guessing ... I'm going to eat sno-balls and beignets and drink good coffee and hear awesome music and lime with people I like.

Here's the news in New Orleans - violence, violence, and corruption.

2 armed robbery suspects dead after chase, shootout on West Bank Expressway

Walter L. Cohen High School student-athlete killed in Hollygrove

William Jefferson ordered to report to prison by May 4

And yet I still love it. Go figure. Let's see if I'm really going to return.

student loan bailout? when?

I will never pay off my student loans.

I've been paying for three years since I graduated from law school, and the balance has INCREASED by $30,000.

Tell me how that is?

It's bullshit, that's what it is.  It's interest so high above what I can be paid in an interest-bearing account.

I will never prioritize paying off this loan because it PISSES ME OFF.  I will make minimum payments until I die. If there were not income-based repayment, my loan payment every month would be $2848.  EVERY FUCKING MONTH.  With the exception of Liberia, every job that I have found AFTER LAW SCHOOL provided less take-home pay than that. 

I went to law school to be a contributing member of society, but I will never prioritize paying off this loan.  This is a racket that the banks got into and fuck it. I shouldn't be paying such high interest rates.  I'm pissed off.

Why did we bail out banks and others when young people are suffocating under the weight of this ridiculously high interest rate?  Why??? 

Fuckers. 

complicating factors

I went to dinner tonight with my Bossman.  He wanted to hear about last week's travel and we both wanted a little social interaction.  I also wanted a little bindi but it was not to be. 

"So ... have you thought about if you might want to stay longer here?"

"Um, no, I haven't.  What are your thoughts?"

"I would love for you to stay.  Our grant goes through September and we'd have funds to keep you here that long if you want." 

Record screech. 

Wait, did I NOT, just as I was walking out the door to meet with him, say I'll be ready to leave, I'm bored.

So I've been brainstorming with the help of Former Supervisor, and there are some things I could do that would help my resume - like budget management, grant proposal writing, etc.  Maybe I could also get another book published with my help.  And ... well, I can always find things to do, I'm just sure that they're valuable.

I'm not learning here, not stretching myself.  And every time I try to, I get rejected.  Our program manager - again, a lovely person - doesn't get it.  Can't conceptualize the possibilities. 

I gripe about not making money here, but that's in comparison to life in Liberia.  I'm able to save now way more than I could when I was practicing law in Louisiana.  It's still not much, but it's saving and not spending, so that's good.   

to know and be known

I talked to my very dear friend who's been going through very difficult times for a few years now.  She's is basically my family, and even though we don't talk often once we're back together it's like we were never apart.

I called her today to get details on a job revealing itself to her and it's all very exciting. 

"So how are things in Azerbaijan," she asked.  "I have to say ... I saw your pictures and saw the men there and my thought was, 'Oh good god, [NOLA] sure isn't having any sex there!  Those men are NOT YOUR TYPE." 

Ah, my friends.  How they know me.

life is short

It looks like I have the gig in the Zambia ... but it's for only three months and wouldn't start until February of 2013.

That means ... I would have like seven months off from work. 

Obviously that doesn't sound like a good idea to me.  I need to be earning money, but even more: life is short and I can't waste time.  I have things to learn, things to do. 

But I can't turn it down.  I really do want to go.  The money is good for that short of a time.  It's sort of the model I'd like for the future, of having New Orleans as a home base and being in and out. 

But i have $186,000 in student loan debt.  For anybody paying attention, that is MORE than when I finished law school.  Interest capitalizes.  So despite paying nearly $300/month, there is no way I'd ever be able to pay it off like this. 

I don't even consider that.  I'll pay if off somehow, or something will happen.  Maybe they'll pass a law that once you turn 88 years old the rest is forgiven.  And then fund that.  (Currently there's a law of forgiveness after 20 years of payment, but I'm not believing it'll be funded - plus, it'd be taxable income.)

But I was just thinking about how I would pass a summer, fall, and part of winter in New Orleans, and with knowing there's something up the pike it doesn't sound so bad.  I could learn to rehab houses.  I could volunteer and do pro bono legal work and make connections and learn things.  I could maybe find some contract work for short-term. 

Ideally I'd find a job that would let me take off three months to go to the Zambia.  I think that's unlikely, though.

But there is this.  My whole life has pretty much been about just giving control over to the void. Maybe I seem like a control freak because I want to know my food options at a restaurant, but about the bigger life issues I let it go.  I close my eyes and jump.  And I don't regret it, not at all.  That's what this lifetime is about for me.  Sometimes that means showering in brown toxic sludge in northern Azerbaijan, and sometimes it means eating the best dolmas of my life.  Sometimes it means meeting amazing and wonderful people, and sometimes it means having my heart broken. 

This makes me feel alive, this life I've chosen.  I am just not able to be the person who wakes up in the same bed every morning next to the same person.  Sometimes I think that sounds desirable, and then I have a negative physical reaction.  I get anxiety attacks when I start to fall into that life, unable to breathe or ever feel right.  So then I ditch everything I own and change my name and leave behind the people who love me and I jump into the abyss and end up wherever the hell and I scrap my way together and ... things always work out.  Even when things seem impossible to bear, they work out amazingly well.  Especially when I'm doing what I hope is the right thing. 

If I go back to New Orleans to buy up houses and rehab them and improve neighborhoods, the universe will take care of me.  New Orleans knows I'm her bitch and treats me accordingly, but it all works out in a really crazy crazy way.  Better than I can ever imagine. 

I could stay here longer, I'm sure of it, and close that gap between this job and next ... but I don't want to.  Azerbaijan is teaching me great things, but it will be time to leave.  There is something better out there for me, and I just have to trust that it will happen.

eating in Azerbaijan

Here's the shopping I just did.

German chocolate and marzipan to take to IT guy on Monday as a peace offering so he doesn't hate me.  (It won't work.  But it's a gesture.  Which he'll probably resent because he's on a diet, which I find ridiculous because he's already scrawny but I keep my mouth shut.  Because I'm a good friend like that, even though I ratted him out accidentally.)

A rotisserie chicken that I'll use for wraps and then the carcass for soup stock for lentil soup.

Tomatoes and cucumbers for the wraps, for salad, and the tomatoes to go in the borscht I'll make tomorrow. (Tomorrow I'll buy onions and beets and potatoes and cabbage for that.)

A big hunk of meat that will go either for a very large batch of borscht or I'll freeze half for using later.

The white round container: fresh yogurt (qatiq) that I add to many things (soups and musli and such) and enjoy plain.  I might also get some "green garlic" and mix it up as a lavash spread.

Lavash, a flat bread that I'm currently obsessed with.  Like a very thin tortilla. Nobody else that I know does this, but I wrap everything up in it.  A perfect dinner for me is a "choban salat" (cucumbers and tomatoes), some fresh cheese, some greens like tarragon, all wrapped up in a piece of lavash.  I plan to eat this extensively for the rest of my time here until I'm sick of it, and I'll add some olives to the mix.   

Suzme pendir I'm hoping is the soft fresh cheese I had up north that I can add fresh herbs to and have as a lavash spread to eat with fresh vegetables.

White cheese, known as pendir here, for wrapping in  lavash or having with salad or eating slices of plain.  I don't know the fat content.  I wish I did.  But I think it's pretty low, because I cannot eat most cheese due to the fat and this doesn't bother me.  Ditto for the suzme and yogurt.  Their cream though, qaymaq, I don't even try to eat (it's heavy fat) except as a special treat in a hotel, lightly put on a hunk of white bread with a layer of local honey on top. 

Greens: a big bunch of tarragon (which I never want to live without again - it's so amazing - I"ll put it in the wraps, in the salad, and I need to find another use for), a big bunch of dill (for tomorrow's borscht and also to get added to the suzme as a spreadable cheese to put on a wrap with salad), and a mystery green that is deep red.  (No idea what it is and when I asked the guy in Russian he didn't understand a word I said and kept shouting prices at me.  I like the taste and it is great in wraps, and I figure with the deep red it's gotta have good antixoxidants.)

Oranges.

Slivki is a Russian light cream (10% fat) that I use as half and half in my coffee.  For whatever reason, regular milk just doesn't cut it for me - I want just a little bit more fat to make my coffee amazing.  Fat carries taste, after all, and I'm not afraid of fat - I just don't want to eat more than I need. 

Musli cereal for pretty cheap (which I like with kefir, but I already had so many dairy products I couldn't make myself buy more).  I'm trying to figure out a new breakfast routine and I might try this but I have doubts it'll keep me sustained throughout a morning.  I need to work out a snack routine too, but ... well, it's always been an issue for me.

Anyway, this is the way I typically eat here.

DO YOU SEE ANY PIZZA??

Stupidest thing said lately ...

Yesterday we were at lunch and had a creamy fresh cheese that I really liked.  "How do you say this?" I asked, and struggling with this new word I asked for it repeatedly, how to spell it, etc.  (Suzme, I think.) 

The driver said something obviously scornful in Azeri and I looked to the only English speaker for translation. 

"He says why do you want to learn these words when you're here for such a short time."

"Because I plan to eat for the next two months and would prefer to have food I like."

Translation.  I hear "pizza."

"Did he just say that I eat pizza all the time?"

"Sure, it's --"

"I don't know what you all think you know about expats, but obviously he doesn't know jackshit.  Only time he knows that I ate pizza was when I bought it for the whole staff because I work all day and couldn't be cooking for them.  I go to the grocery store.  I cook my own food.  I very rarely eat out.  Of course I need to know the words in Azeri.  What sort of foolishness is he talking?"

"Well, I guess the stereotypes about expats --"

"Are wrong.  And stupid.  And why would he not know that after working with expats for several years?"

What I didn't say, but wanted to, was "And why after several years of working with English-speakers of an American organization, do you not speak English?"

He was being an ass the whole trip and this was the last straw.  He refuses to run the air conditioner in the car when it's hot, is annoyed that the only food available is grilled, that sort of thing.  Grumbles all the damn time.  I can't understand most of it, but if I hear my name involved (which he mispronounces), you can bet I'll be jumping on his ass. 

When I am not assertive, sometimes things are fine.  However, when I'm traveling with three men, I've realized things are not often fine.  They can't find where we're going, they order inedible food, etc.  And he can be annoyed with me for demanding an explanation of what the food possibilities are, but I learned my lesson last time when I didn't get to eat all damn day because I DIDN'T demand. 

There are times that I go all day without eating and it's not a big deal.  This was annoying because there was no excuse for it except a failure to communicate. 

So.  I'm still hot-headed like a Liberian, and if you want to talk trash about me, I will call you out.  And if you say stupid shit about expats, I'll probably call you stupid.  Azerbaijanis think they know so much about the U.S., and as a general rule they know so very little.  So shut up and just pay attention.

what I want, what I need

When we rolled back into Ganja tonight, I asked the only English-speaking member of the car what dinner plans were. It quickly became clear that I was blown off. While normally I would be happy if he might go meet his friends, when you travel together as a team, there are certain rules. Dinner is one of them. Especially when you are responsible for taking care of a non-Azeri speaker. Even if she made you cry last night.

The last time he blew me off, I sat in my room and ate crackers and cheese that I'd brought as a result of the last trip when I went a really, really long day without food because of bad choices made by others. I learned from that trip, and while people may be annoyed when I am very assertive in knowing what is going on, it's their fault for ordering lamb fat for lunch before an 8-hour car ride. Um, NO.

Now I've been here for two months and my food vocabulary isn't great except for the things I buy to cook myself, because I so rarely go out to eat and then not at Azeri places. Our cook is not as great as everybody raves (unless you call pasta swimming in cheap oil "great") and she's stuck in the same routine. I would love some more Azerbaijani things, but she's doing things for really cheap.

So I wasn't up to the challenge of going to a restaurant alone where i wouldn't be able to speak with anybody or understand anything that I'm ordering. I'm not picky really, but some Azerbaijani dishes are SO fatty that there's no way I can eat them.

But that's sad really. I sat alone in my hotel room with my crackers and cheese.

So tonight when he blew me off, I wasn't having that solitary party again. I had grilled him on the foods yesterday (many of which HE didn't know either) so I was better prepared. Sort of. Not really. There's a menu in my room so I tried looking things up on-line, but little help there.

But I went, feeling very assertive and sure that somebody would be there with whom I could cobble together an order.

Nobody in the place but one server who really didn't get that I had absolutely no comprehension of the long sentences he flung at me. I said "I don't understand," I thought, though now I realize I was really saying something like "Five I took." (Bash, besh - it's confusing.)

I took my usuals: pendir (fresh cheese), choban salad (tomatoes and cucumbers and onions), and yuxa (which is really lavash, which a really thin large tortilla or wrap). Then I remembered the day before somebody had said there were dolmas. And in probably one of the better decisions in my life, I ordered the dolmas. And they were INCREDIBLE. Really. The best ever.

But what made them even better was that when they came out in a huge mound (he was trying to say to me - "You alone are going to eat all these things?" and then I understood why), I was overwhelmed. He gestured about removing half and whether I wanted yogurt and it was a WIN. The fresh yogurt in this country is amazing. LOVE.IT. And then a little old lady from the kitchen came out to get his attention and saw me and we greeted each other, and she brought out a crock with soup that I'd ordered (piti) and asked me all the ingredients in Russian if I wanted them. Now, I do not remember those words in Russian except meat, but I loved her and i loved her helpfulness and her attitude. They knew I'd over-ordered. What they didn't understand is that i was ok with that. I knew I wouldn't finish everything - I just wanted to try a bunch of things, and the total was still less than $12.

I loved that dolma-making babushka, I loved the dolmas. The piti had a really nice flavor from the really long cook time of fatty lamb, but I was too full by then. As they both knew I would be.

It was a really good meal, my last here ever. (I will not return to this hotel - we're back to Baku tomorrow, and this hotel is NOT impressive - the A/C doesn't work, it's on a very busy highway, they don't replace towels/toilet paper, and this morning there was NO WATER, making us very late because apparently I'm a diva for wanting to shower. Really, I wanted THEM to shower because they stunk. Traveling with boys is ridiculous.)

For me at least, life is all about good moments. Things where I've learned or grown and enjoyed myself as a result. Tonight counts!

strange hotel dreams

It's no secret to me that I cannot sleep well in hotels. I stay up way too late and/or lay there wide awake. Once I fall asleep, it is usually very, very deep which orients me in a strange way to the day.

This morning my phone alarm rang early (which I'm excited about because there's no water to shower so we definitely won't get on the road on time, so I'm just sitting around checking the tap wishing for a big bucket of water or a hand pump I could haul a bucket from, like in Liberia). It stirred me from a very deep sleep and made my dream crystal clear. And it wasn't a good one.

In my dream, HNIC and were getting married. While a save the date had gone out, for some reason the actual date I had to text, meaning that I didn't get to a lot of people to inform them. HNIC is kind of blurry (did I forget to invite HIM to the wedding?) though mutual friends were clear and we had a good time.

But ... many of my closest friends from New Orleans weren't there. So the next day I walked into a surprise wedding, hosted by my young, white New Orleanian friends. HNIC was as charming as he can be, which is extremely (though definitely isn't all the time - but he does put on a good face for my friends, I have to give him credit for) and we rolled with it and had Wedding #2 to make everybody happy.

OK, record screech.

Really? My secret desire in moving back to New Orleans is to marry HNIC? Oh kerist, I need to banish the thought. Seriously. Bad for him, bad for me. We are utterly not suitable. We have worked out this surprising and wonderful friendship from our intense lust, but I should not be confused on any level. But apparently I am on the dream level.

I do like a charming man, and I hadn't connected the dots on that. It's funny because I'm not charming myself usually, but my "type" isn't about a man's skin color or musculature or any of that. Oh no, it's about the charm. Of course often I'm disappointed by the charmers, so maybe that's my type. HNIC doesn't usually put them charm on with me - the benefit of our non-relationship is that we're raggedly honest most all the time.

Also, how New Orleans appropriate that I would have segregated weddings. Um, no. But that also really represents our relationship. HNIC doesn't like white people. Oh he gets along with many of them fine and all, but he doesn't trust 'em. His whole family hates white people. Interesting dynamic. Even his sons who are not that way, while I know intimate details of them all, I don't expect to ever meet them. I'm not taking him home to meet my family and he's not taking me home to meet his. It's our one-on-one time we like best.

I work hard to integrate my lives, including all sorts of different kinds of friends together. Sometimes it works super well, as people who would otherwise never talk to each other start to find common interests.

But this is one crazy-ass dream. And i need to really, really, REALLY let go of any notion that I'll become Mrs. HNIC. I love him as a friend and a lover, but he is not my life partner. Or if I even have one. I don't think that this lifetime is about forever partnership - I think it's about finding my own way.

Anyway there's still no water and I'm still refusing to leave my room until I shower. Period. You cannot bully me. Sorry if we're late to the meeting, but I will not spend the entire day in the car and small Azerbaijani village if I have not showered. No. And there's NOOOO water - like, I can't take a bucket shower. I would be fine with a bucket shower. But no.

Call me a diva all you want, but there are some bright lines for me. Unless I am camping or warned in advance about no water, I will not venture out without a shower. My A/C doesn't work in my room so I sweat through the night (window opens to very heavy traffic and a spotlight) and I am ripe. My short hair gets greasy and out of control each night. THERE WILL BE A SHOWER. So you can call me from the restaurant all you want, but I'm not coming until I've showered. End of story.

I work very hard to accommodate other people's schedules and to be on time, but I'm not stressing myself out about this. It's like a car breakdown. It happens. That's all. It's not like I'm standing in a parking lot smoking and making myself late that way. Sorry, I don't consider nicotine addiction a valid excuse. Nor is oversleeping usually (unless in on a 5 a.m. flight after 40 hours of travel).

OK, now I'm just getting really annoyed. I really wish I spoke Azeri.

Well, I won't be going to the Congo on that gig. Too late, all the spots are filled.

Zambia is looking good in terms of probably grant approval, but I don't know how to juggle it. They promise me a timeline soon which could help, but we'll see. I'd hate to miss the opportunity, but there's always opportunity cost. It's hard because it's such a short (only three months) gig, and I don't want to not work for six months or more waiting for that ... but if I start another job, quitting after six months ain't cool. The thing is, they put me on the grant, so I'm official. I can decline, but they're committed to me. It's secure, which is far more than I'd usually say about them.

So.

I started a big stink ... I laughed at our DC office when they asked if all our software is licensed and said "It's all bootleg, baby." Oh, they didn't like that. And the only reason I know it's pirated is because I'm super tight with IT guy, who now will likely hate me for ratting him out.

I said to The Supervisor from Liberia via Skype last night: "Man, I should have given an answer like you, about I'll look into it. This just shows I cannot keep a secret."
She responded: "Yep."

I can keep secrets, I just don't like to. I mean, why the hell are we using pirated software? We have oodles of money we could use for the real thing. It's not a good idea, and when I made that point to IT Guy and Office Administrator, they laughed at me. Azerbaijan is a different world, but I work for a U.S. organization using pirated U.S. software? Um, not great. Really. I can't even justify it on any level except that it's just done that way here. Which is no justification.

So I ratted.

And now I feel bad.

Though, honestly DC wasn't jerky about it - they just said, "We have a very clear mandate that all software should be licensed, so please do that immediately. Let us know how we can help, but hopefully you can buy it there for administrative reasons."

Thing is, I really, really, really like IT Guy. He's a fabulous person and friend. I hope he doesn't feel that I betrayed him in any way. I in no way respect him less for using pirated software - I know it's just cultural.

Sigh.

I'm ready to get out of this country. I know, only eight more weeks, but I'm ready. I coulda been gone in a week, and I'm a little sad I'm not.

OK, Gringa. Shower. You're meeting boys in 20 minutes. Let go of the negative funky mood. It's a very long day ahead, you slept too little, but you just had a damn good cup of coffee so no grumblies.

the universe wants me to get in better shape

Yesterday I walked up the Maiden's Tower in Baku.



Don't be impressed. It's only 29.5 meters up and there are chambers at eight levels to stop and look at the interesting artifacts.

It was cool. It's over 1,000 years old probably. I wish my archaeologist friends were there with me - because they would enjoy it and because I miss them.

The thing is, today I can barely walk. My thighs feel like somebody got in there and yanked all the muscles taut. Sitting in a car for six hours didn't help.

How can I be in such horrible shape?

This is embarrassing.

Well the good news is that the internet tells me that to pass the medical exam for the company I might work for, my BMI has to be under 40. Um, 40? 30 is obese. But ok, I'll take it. Though, no word back from the company. So who knows what my future holds or where I will be in two weeks?