Another day, another typhoon.
But, I got to go home early and buy souvenirs at the mall. At one store, I walked up to the checkout counter and waited in line. In front of me was a young Filipina carrying a Gucci handbag. She and the girl behind the counter were talking in Tagalog. The guy behind the counter stared at the floor.
The girl with the Gucci handbag stepped aside, and I put my presents on the counter. Both girls continued talking in Tagalog, giggling every time I handed the cashier a new gift. The guy behind the counter stared at the floor.
I turned to the girl with the Gucci handbag and said, "I think my family will like them." She responded in perfect English as the two employees carefully placed each gift into a gigantic bag.
The girl behind the counter handed me the bag.
"Thank you sir!"
I took it and smiled.
"Salamat po!"
Both girls turned bright red. The guy behind the counter looked up from the floor and burst out laughing.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Bring me some Booty!
Hey all, hope I got your attention. Sorry to use the blog, but I am sure you are all reading this and not your emails! Here is my pitch:
In all of your fabulous summer travels around the world, I am sure you are finding some amazing souvenirs and local goods that folks back in Princeton would love to own. I am hoping to catch some of you to ask you (if you are still out there traveling somewhere) to bring me back some exotic international goodies!
It's not for me, really, but for the upcoming Woo Service Auction that we are bringing back with style to the WWS this Fall. The Woo Service reps and I are taking on the fine tradition passed down from John Kaufman and his class to hold a silent auction to raise money for a NJ-based charity. The last one was held before we arrived at the Woo, and was apparently a lot of fun, and a big success. They raised over $5,000 and donated to a Trenton-based charity.
This year, we will be soliciting donations from everyone of whatever you can give, be it a home cooked meal, a handmade item, or free babysitting for an evening. Creativity is welcome! We plan to try to hold the auction along with skit night or another fun social event and we want to raise as much money as we can for a worthwhile charity. We have been thinking of a group in Newark that provides legal and other services for refugees, immigrants and victims of human trafficking, but will be finalizing all details in the coming weeks.
The brilliant idea (Sujata's, not mine) is that while some of you are out there in the far reaches of the world, that we should hit you up now to bring something back for the auction. It would be great to see waht everyone can bring back for us to sell at the auction - I am sure that we could get some amazingly unique items that people will love. So... come on, gimmie some booty!!
Also, please let me know if you have any qustions about the auction, want to help out at all, or are ready to donate! We will be sharing more details at the September 13th service event that I hope you all have on your calendars!
Can't wait to see you guys in the Fall!
Sue
In all of your fabulous summer travels around the world, I am sure you are finding some amazing souvenirs and local goods that folks back in Princeton would love to own. I am hoping to catch some of you to ask you (if you are still out there traveling somewhere) to bring me back some exotic international goodies!
It's not for me, really, but for the upcoming Woo Service Auction that we are bringing back with style to the WWS this Fall. The Woo Service reps and I are taking on the fine tradition passed down from John Kaufman and his class to hold a silent auction to raise money for a NJ-based charity. The last one was held before we arrived at the Woo, and was apparently a lot of fun, and a big success. They raised over $5,000 and donated to a Trenton-based charity.
This year, we will be soliciting donations from everyone of whatever you can give, be it a home cooked meal, a handmade item, or free babysitting for an evening. Creativity is welcome! We plan to try to hold the auction along with skit night or another fun social event and we want to raise as much money as we can for a worthwhile charity. We have been thinking of a group in Newark that provides legal and other services for refugees, immigrants and victims of human trafficking, but will be finalizing all details in the coming weeks.
The brilliant idea (Sujata's, not mine) is that while some of you are out there in the far reaches of the world, that we should hit you up now to bring something back for the auction. It would be great to see waht everyone can bring back for us to sell at the auction - I am sure that we could get some amazingly unique items that people will love. So... come on, gimmie some booty!!
Also, please let me know if you have any qustions about the auction, want to help out at all, or are ready to donate! We will be sharing more details at the September 13th service event that I hope you all have on your calendars!
Can't wait to see you guys in the Fall!
Sue
Thursday, August 7, 2008
There and Back Again - A Panda's Tale
In China, there are many Chinese. Nowhere is this fact more apparent than in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
My trip to Shanghai began, and nearly ended, in the visa line at the Chinese Embassy in Manila. After two weeks of figuring out paperwork and fees, I was finally ready to apply for my visa. I arrived Friday morning, six days before my flight to Shanghai, at 8:15 AM. I stepped through security into the waiting room and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 755. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 632. I took a seat.
At 11:15 AM, I stood up again and walked to the counter. The visa officer looked at my paperwork and promptly denied my application. There are only two possible explanations:
1. They saw Princeton twice on my application and thought, "Man, not another Free Tibet protestor!"
2. China's one-child policy has left the country dangerously short of girls. If they let me in, all the remaining girls will fall in love with me, leaving a country of frustrated young men, which political scientists have determined to be a necessary, though not sufficient, condition for increased radicalism in other countries (see: Saudi Arabia, Egypt, etc.).
Either way, I panicked. I took one of the slowest cabs in all of Makati back to my office and promptly sent Jon (Shanghai) an email that read something like this:
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey Jon,
How's it going? Not to bother you at work this afternoon, but I GOT DENIED FOR A FRICKIN' VISA AND I ONLY HAVE SIX DAYS BEFORE MY FLIGHT LEAVES AND I NEED THREE EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PIECES OF PAPER, WHICH NO AMERICAN DIPLOMAT IN MANILA HAS EVER HEARD OF AND WERE NEVER MENTIONED ON ANY WEBSITE, FROM YOU BY MONDAY OR I CAN'T COME VISIT YOU AND SEE THE PANDAS!!!!
So yeah, if you could send me that stuff by Monday, that would be great.
Have a good one,
Tom
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Jon (Shanghai) got me the stuff, and on Monday I stepped through security into the waiting room at the Chinese Embassy in Manila, paperwork in hand, and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 48. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 930. I took a seat.
Then, at around 11:30 AM, something unexpected happened. All the consular officers, six in total, stood up and left their respective windows. They disappeared into a back room. No one in the waiting room moved. I waited in my seat for 20 minutes. Then, for no real reason in particular, I turned around and looked at the sign behind me. It read:
---------------------------------------------
Embassy of the People's Republic of China
Visa Office
Application Hours 9:00 AM - 11:30 AM
---------------------------------------------
I returned to the Chinese Embassy at 7:30 AM Tuesday morning. I stepped through security and blah blah blah stepped up to the window around 11:00 AM. The visa officer shuffled through my paperwork for about ten seconds and told me to come back the next morning to pick up my visa.
On Wednesday morning, I paid $160 for my four day trip to Shanghai. On Thursday morning, I flew to Shanghai.
China was much different than I expected. The weather was warmer and more humid than in Manila. The locals weren't very nice. The chopsticks were tricky. The streets were crowded. Thankfully, the pandas were cuddly.
I only talked to one Chinese girl the entire trip. She was selling milk tea at the Shanghai airport. Right after I said "hello" to her in my very best Mandarin, she giggled and a huge smile flashed across her face. There are only two possible thoughts that could've crossed her mind at that moment:
1. OMG, that cute American boy speaks perfect Chinese! I'm in love.
2. OMG, did that guy just call me a horse?
Either way, the plane landed safely in Manila.
The next weekend, the rest of the interns and I took a Hong Kong. The trip started off well, until we got to the airport in Manila. As I was checking-in with the ticket agent, she suddenly interrupted my day-dreaming about pandas:
"Excuse me sir, is that yours?" She pointed to my three foot long black golf umbrella.
Of course it was mine. Knowing it was rainy season in Manila, I bought it at the Target in Ames before leaving home. The next day, that Target was underwater. For obvious reasons (including this, this, this, and this), I've taken that umbrella everywhere this summer, China included.
"Yes."
"Sir, you cannot carry it on the plane with you."
"Why not?"
"Because sir, it could be used as a weapon." She tapped the blunt tip with her finger. Thoughts raced through my mind. I chose my next words carefully.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."
Hong Kong was much different than I expected. Our hotel was absolutely beautiful; they even gave us free cheesecake. The Super Ferry from Hong Kong Island to Kowloon Island was very cheap and a great way to see the city skyline. You can even ride the world's longest escalator through the central part of the city.
But not everything was wonderful. After a half hour, you realize that the world's longest escalator is really still an escalator. I was looking forward to climbing Victoria's Peak, only to discover that you ride up the side of the mountain on a train. There are two shopping malls at the top, and the employees inside the Burger King there look at you funny when you ask for a massage.
Massage or not, I was ready to come back to the Philippines on Monday evening when we arrived at the Hong Kong airport. We walked inside the terminal to our ticket counter, looking forward to a nice, relaxing flight back to Manila. I handed my ticket confirmation and passport to the ticket agent.
"Excuse me sir, where is your final destination?"
"Manila."
"No, sir. Your passport says you are an American. Where is your final destination in the US?"
"Des Moines."
There was a long pause.
"Yes, sir. And where is your ticket confirmation to....Des Moines?"
"Well, I don't leave for three weeks still. I didn't bring that confirmation with me because it's part of a different trip."
"Yes, sir. But I need to see your onward reservation in order to book you for your flight to Manila. Immigration will not allow you back into the Philippines without a copy of your onward reservation."
"But I have a valid visa. And I just went to Shanghai last weekend and re-entered with no problems."
"Sir, the rules say that you must have a copy of your onward reservation." I chose my next words carefully.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."
She directed me to the information booth, so I could find the Japan Airlines ticket counter and print off a copy of my flight itinerary three weeks in advance. Not surprisingly, Japan Airlines did not have any flights departing that evening, and all its staff had gone home for the day.
I ran back to the ticket counter. The agent informed me that I could go to the nearby coffee shop and use their internet to email my ticket confirmation to the desk agent. I checked my watch. My flight boarded in a half hour.
I past the coffee shop counter and sat down at the computer. It didn't have a mouse. I tried, in vain, to open my email and find the ticket confirmation using only the keyboard. I heard giggling from behind the counter. A sign above the computer read: "Computer only for customer use. Mouse available at counter." I ran to the counter and ordered a $3.50 bottle of water. After emailing the confirmation to the only email address listed on the airline website, I ran back to the ticket counter.
I stopped to catch my breath. The agent looked at me, then scribbled down a different email address. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then took the piece of paper and ran back to the coffee shop.
A few minutes later, I ran to the ticket counter for a fourth time. The old ticket agent had gone on break. The new one took my ticket confirmation and passport, and ten seconds later she wished me a happy flight. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then thanked her and ran toward my departure gate.
Tomorrow night, most of the world will watch the opening ceremonies in Beijing. I think I'll just go to bed early.
My trip to Shanghai began, and nearly ended, in the visa line at the Chinese Embassy in Manila. After two weeks of figuring out paperwork and fees, I was finally ready to apply for my visa. I arrived Friday morning, six days before my flight to Shanghai, at 8:15 AM. I stepped through security into the waiting room and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 755. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 632. I took a seat.
At 11:15 AM, I stood up again and walked to the counter. The visa officer looked at my paperwork and promptly denied my application. There are only two possible explanations:
1. They saw Princeton twice on my application and thought, "Man, not another Free Tibet protestor!"
2. China's one-child policy has left the country dangerously short of girls. If they let me in, all the remaining girls will fall in love with me, leaving a country of frustrated young men, which political scientists have determined to be a necessary, though not sufficient, condition for increased radicalism in other countries (see: Saudi Arabia, Egypt, etc.).
Either way, I panicked. I took one of the slowest cabs in all of Makati back to my office and promptly sent Jon (Shanghai) an email that read something like this:
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey Jon,
How's it going? Not to bother you at work this afternoon, but I GOT DENIED FOR A FRICKIN' VISA AND I ONLY HAVE SIX DAYS BEFORE MY FLIGHT LEAVES AND I NEED THREE EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PIECES OF PAPER, WHICH NO AMERICAN DIPLOMAT IN MANILA HAS EVER HEARD OF AND WERE NEVER MENTIONED ON ANY WEBSITE, FROM YOU BY MONDAY OR I CAN'T COME VISIT YOU AND SEE THE PANDAS!!!!
So yeah, if you could send me that stuff by Monday, that would be great.
Have a good one,
Tom
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Jon (Shanghai) got me the stuff, and on Monday I stepped through security into the waiting room at the Chinese Embassy in Manila, paperwork in hand, and took a number from the desk. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand. It read 48. I looked up at the glowing number above the visa counter. It read 930. I took a seat.
Then, at around 11:30 AM, something unexpected happened. All the consular officers, six in total, stood up and left their respective windows. They disappeared into a back room. No one in the waiting room moved. I waited in my seat for 20 minutes. Then, for no real reason in particular, I turned around and looked at the sign behind me. It read:
---------------------------------------------
Embassy of the People's Republic of China
Visa Office
Application Hours 9:00 AM - 11:30 AM
---------------------------------------------
I returned to the Chinese Embassy at 7:30 AM Tuesday morning. I stepped through security and blah blah blah stepped up to the window around 11:00 AM. The visa officer shuffled through my paperwork for about ten seconds and told me to come back the next morning to pick up my visa.
On Wednesday morning, I paid $160 for my four day trip to Shanghai. On Thursday morning, I flew to Shanghai.
China was much different than I expected. The weather was warmer and more humid than in Manila. The locals weren't very nice. The chopsticks were tricky. The streets were crowded. Thankfully, the pandas were cuddly.
I only talked to one Chinese girl the entire trip. She was selling milk tea at the Shanghai airport. Right after I said "hello" to her in my very best Mandarin, she giggled and a huge smile flashed across her face. There are only two possible thoughts that could've crossed her mind at that moment:
1. OMG, that cute American boy speaks perfect Chinese! I'm in love.
2. OMG, did that guy just call me a horse?
Either way, the plane landed safely in Manila.
The next weekend, the rest of the interns and I took a Hong Kong. The trip started off well, until we got to the airport in Manila. As I was checking-in with the ticket agent, she suddenly interrupted my day-dreaming about pandas:
"Excuse me sir, is that yours?" She pointed to my three foot long black golf umbrella.
Of course it was mine. Knowing it was rainy season in Manila, I bought it at the Target in Ames before leaving home. The next day, that Target was underwater. For obvious reasons (including this, this, this, and this), I've taken that umbrella everywhere this summer, China included.
"Yes."
"Sir, you cannot carry it on the plane with you."
"Why not?"
"Because sir, it could be used as a weapon." She tapped the blunt tip with her finger. Thoughts raced through my mind. I chose my next words carefully.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."
Hong Kong was much different than I expected. Our hotel was absolutely beautiful; they even gave us free cheesecake. The Super Ferry from Hong Kong Island to Kowloon Island was very cheap and a great way to see the city skyline. You can even ride the world's longest escalator through the central part of the city.
But not everything was wonderful. After a half hour, you realize that the world's longest escalator is really still an escalator. I was looking forward to climbing Victoria's Peak, only to discover that you ride up the side of the mountain on a train. There are two shopping malls at the top, and the employees inside the Burger King there look at you funny when you ask for a massage.
Massage or not, I was ready to come back to the Philippines on Monday evening when we arrived at the Hong Kong airport. We walked inside the terminal to our ticket counter, looking forward to a nice, relaxing flight back to Manila. I handed my ticket confirmation and passport to the ticket agent.
"Excuse me sir, where is your final destination?"
"Manila."
"No, sir. Your passport says you are an American. Where is your final destination in the US?"
"Des Moines."
There was a long pause.
"Yes, sir. And where is your ticket confirmation to....Des Moines?"
"Well, I don't leave for three weeks still. I didn't bring that confirmation with me because it's part of a different trip."
"Yes, sir. But I need to see your onward reservation in order to book you for your flight to Manila. Immigration will not allow you back into the Philippines without a copy of your onward reservation."
"But I have a valid visa. And I just went to Shanghai last weekend and re-entered with no problems."
"Sir, the rules say that you must have a copy of your onward reservation." I chose my next words carefully.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes sir, I am serious."
She directed me to the information booth, so I could find the Japan Airlines ticket counter and print off a copy of my flight itinerary three weeks in advance. Not surprisingly, Japan Airlines did not have any flights departing that evening, and all its staff had gone home for the day.
I ran back to the ticket counter. The agent informed me that I could go to the nearby coffee shop and use their internet to email my ticket confirmation to the desk agent. I checked my watch. My flight boarded in a half hour.
I past the coffee shop counter and sat down at the computer. It didn't have a mouse. I tried, in vain, to open my email and find the ticket confirmation using only the keyboard. I heard giggling from behind the counter. A sign above the computer read: "Computer only for customer use. Mouse available at counter." I ran to the counter and ordered a $3.50 bottle of water. After emailing the confirmation to the only email address listed on the airline website, I ran back to the ticket counter.
I stopped to catch my breath. The agent looked at me, then scribbled down a different email address. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then took the piece of paper and ran back to the coffee shop.
A few minutes later, I ran to the ticket counter for a fourth time. The old ticket agent had gone on break. The new one took my ticket confirmation and passport, and ten seconds later she wished me a happy flight. I stared at the blunt tip of my umbrella for a moment, then thanked her and ran toward my departure gate.
Tomorrow night, most of the world will watch the opening ceremonies in Beijing. I think I'll just go to bed early.
For All The Filipinas In My Life
Last night, Alvin and his family had me over for supper. They fed me milkfish, squid, BBQ pork, egg rolls, salad, rice, mangos, bananas, coconut ice cream, and soup with chicken, potatoes, and little green leaves that new mothers are supposed to eat. It was delicious.
His father and mother have been to Iowa. Ames, in fact.
After supper, we drove to the University of the Philippines, which my sources tell me is the best university in the Philippines, to take pictures by its most famous statue.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Woos in Nicaragua
Christina: Completed 306 (if I am not mistaken) interviews with microfinance clients all over Nicaragua and now chilling on a small island off the Caribbean coast.
Carlos: Currently attempting to put on weight by eating lots of mamón (see below).
Me: Decided that my future house MUST feature both hammocks and rocking chairs, preferably from Nicaragua.
With Carlos, mamón, hammock, and Christina in absentia.
Location: Shore of crater lake, Laguna de Apoyo
Carlos: Currently attempting to put on weight by eating lots of mamón (see below).
Me: Decided that my future house MUST feature both hammocks and rocking chairs, preferably from Nicaragua.
With Carlos, mamón, hammock, and Christina in absentia.
Location: Shore of crater lake, Laguna de Apoyo
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Question for those who know trade!
So... while I may not have come away from Esteban's class with much knowledge... I do at least know who to ask my questions about macro policy and trade issues! So this question humbly goes out to all you econ-smarties out there...
With the recent collapse of the trade talks, countries that currently enjoy preferential access for agricultural goods into European (and a bit US, but less so) markets actually win, yes? They will likely continue to enjoy the preferential access rather than having all the trade issues addressed on a global scale (or at least slightly more comprehensively than the current hodge-podge of agreements).
The specific context I am thinking about is Mozambique (and a bit Tanzania), which gets general preferential access to the EU under Everything But Arms and some LDC deals, and has a specific arrangement around sugar (and by extension ethanol). Would the trade round have been likely to have changed much about the LDC agreements? My impression is that the relatively preferential access of LDCs would have mostly remained (not my area though, at all)...
margaret.sh@gmail.com is the best way to get hold of me
Thanks guys!
With the recent collapse of the trade talks, countries that currently enjoy preferential access for agricultural goods into European (and a bit US, but less so) markets actually win, yes? They will likely continue to enjoy the preferential access rather than having all the trade issues addressed on a global scale (or at least slightly more comprehensively than the current hodge-podge of agreements).
The specific context I am thinking about is Mozambique (and a bit Tanzania), which gets general preferential access to the EU under Everything But Arms and some LDC deals, and has a specific arrangement around sugar (and by extension ethanol). Would the trade round have been likely to have changed much about the LDC agreements? My impression is that the relatively preferential access of LDCs would have mostly remained (not my area though, at all)...
margaret.sh@gmail.com is the best way to get hold of me
Thanks guys!
Friday, August 1, 2008
a few thoughts
I have now returned to the US and am finishing up my WWF work in DC and I thought I would share a few personal reflections.
The flights around Mozambique and Tanzania offer a neat summary of the problems and opportunities in the area. They are an eclectic mix of individuals, but often the same overall mixture. There is a small sprinkling of locals and American religious missionaries. The largest group is composed of oil and gas developers, followed by groups Chinese businessmen with little to say about their intentions. The other significant group is foreign NGO and UN type organization aid workers; almost all in HIV/AIDS work… the flights are quite the window into who has wealth and interest in the region.
I must reiterate just how interesting it is to view development through the lens of agriculture- I find it enlightening. When looking at agriculture all the questions of livelihoods, gender relations, impacts and drivers of HIV/AIDS, impact of foreign assistance, politics and governance, education.. etc. Governance issues rise to prominence when confronting the bureaucratic and corruption hurtles necessary to scale before starting any size agricultural venture. Gender and health issues are quite clear with relation to whom in the family works the land, how long men stay with their families, and what the impacts are of increased wealth that follows large investments. The disaster that is most foreign assistance is striking to see as international food aid organizations purchase local corn and end up raising the price of staples locally and creating a food shortage where there was none previously- or the example of the World Bank directly causing the destruction of Mozambique’s cashew industry, which used to be the primary source of livelihoods for almost a quarter of the population…
Besides a lens into local development issues, agriculture also shows the impact of global issues – everything from the deterioration of the trade talks to the impact of rising oil prices to the U.S. election. Trade talks and oil prices both determine the trends in livelihoods for over 80 percent of the population- those involved in agriculture. As fuel prices rise, as Europe raises and lowers domestic form subsidies and changes the tariff regime – the profitability of crops grown by the majority of populations swings wildly, foreign companies that can provide desperately needed inputs and expertise will now flood into Mozambique and largely avoid Tanzania due to preferential access agreements already in place.
All in all, it has been a wonderful experience to work with WWF and to have an impact on their work, which I know will have tremendous repercussions for the way development goes forward for millions of people. I am lightly dreading returning to academia and leaving the intensity of this work. This experience has cemented my previous inclination towards working in this niche professionally after school. I enjoy it, find it fulfilling, believe in its benefit, and know I have something significant to contribute.
The flights around Mozambique and Tanzania offer a neat summary of the problems and opportunities in the area. They are an eclectic mix of individuals, but often the same overall mixture. There is a small sprinkling of locals and American religious missionaries. The largest group is composed of oil and gas developers, followed by groups Chinese businessmen with little to say about their intentions. The other significant group is foreign NGO and UN type organization aid workers; almost all in HIV/AIDS work… the flights are quite the window into who has wealth and interest in the region.
I must reiterate just how interesting it is to view development through the lens of agriculture- I find it enlightening. When looking at agriculture all the questions of livelihoods, gender relations, impacts and drivers of HIV/AIDS, impact of foreign assistance, politics and governance, education.. etc. Governance issues rise to prominence when confronting the bureaucratic and corruption hurtles necessary to scale before starting any size agricultural venture. Gender and health issues are quite clear with relation to whom in the family works the land, how long men stay with their families, and what the impacts are of increased wealth that follows large investments. The disaster that is most foreign assistance is striking to see as international food aid organizations purchase local corn and end up raising the price of staples locally and creating a food shortage where there was none previously- or the example of the World Bank directly causing the destruction of Mozambique’s cashew industry, which used to be the primary source of livelihoods for almost a quarter of the population…
Besides a lens into local development issues, agriculture also shows the impact of global issues – everything from the deterioration of the trade talks to the impact of rising oil prices to the U.S. election. Trade talks and oil prices both determine the trends in livelihoods for over 80 percent of the population- those involved in agriculture. As fuel prices rise, as Europe raises and lowers domestic form subsidies and changes the tariff regime – the profitability of crops grown by the majority of populations swings wildly, foreign companies that can provide desperately needed inputs and expertise will now flood into Mozambique and largely avoid Tanzania due to preferential access agreements already in place.
All in all, it has been a wonderful experience to work with WWF and to have an impact on their work, which I know will have tremendous repercussions for the way development goes forward for millions of people. I am lightly dreading returning to academia and leaving the intensity of this work. This experience has cemented my previous inclination towards working in this niche professionally after school. I enjoy it, find it fulfilling, believe in its benefit, and know I have something significant to contribute.
Fun with Woos!
Fun social post- I am now back in the US finishing up, but have to say that it was marvelous to return to Maputo after traveling up Mozambique and around Tanzania and have a smiling Saskia and Georgina waiting at the airport to whisk me away to a luxury hotel and a weekend of fabulous game drives. It was like a breath of fresh air after some traumatic and very lonely travel to get to see them- Woos are awesome!
The three of us had a ton of fun in the cold sunrise and sunset drives with elephants, zebras, rhinoceroses, hippos, giraffes, dokos, impalas, warthogs, wildebeest, buffalos, lions, monkeys, birds, etc etc etc. We laughed that if only Nate H. were there he and I could go of in search of elephants, or if Asher were there he could continue to engage the driver about rhino droppings (he was getting his PhD, apparently in rhino dung...) long after our diplomatic skills were exhausted.
Those two are still in Maputo finishing up their internships before they head off to South Africa together for a couple of weeks- I can report they are still alive and doing well! I am in DC till the end of next week when my internship officially ends (at 13 wks), then off to VT to help my parents bale hay, harvest from the garden, sheer the sheep, and shingle the house- it will be refreshing to move from mental to physical labor for a while, that is for sure!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
My time at the UN
Hey,
Today is my last day at the UN, getting ready for Kampala, sun and chilling by the pool. One last 'pearl of wisdom': There exists a huge difference between expectations and reality here at the UN. I came in thinking I would do a lot of field related work (mainly on Burundi) and ended up mostly negotiating with member states and writing memos. Strangely enough, I have met Ban Ki Moon at least three times. (see above!)
Cannot complain however, time here has been really interesting, I would certainly encourage people to join this office.
Please let me know if you are in Kampala or Albania in the next few weeks!
Ledio
Friday, July 25, 2008
Cinema or Communal Living Room?
I went to the local cinema last night (a new and pretty modern cinema, mind you). As the movie ran its course, I couldn't help but notice all the noise and movement around me. Women had brought their infants or young kids (less than 5 yrs old) with them. Of course, they couldn't help crying or talking loudly through most of it. People kept receiving (and answering) phone calls (the silent option on the cell phone does not seem to exist for most Nicas). People in front and behind me held conversations in a regular speaking voice (I am yet to hear someone here whisper). People kept coming in, going out, shuffling around. No-one apart from me seemed to find this the slight bit out of the ordinary.
All in all, I felt like I was in someone's house watching a movie on an extremely big screen.
All in all, I felt like I was in someone's house watching a movie on an extremely big screen.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Hobos in Manila
A block from the embassy, there is an Australian hotel. The name is Swagman, an old Australian word for "hobo". I heard about Swagman from a military man with a southern accent who rode my shuttle home one evening. On that shuttle ride, my roommate and I were complaining about the fact that the embassy cafeteria had closed, leaving us one fewer option for lunch, supper, and every meal in between. Later, a reliable source informed me that there were cockroaches in the cafeteria kitchen, bringing an abrupt end to my complaining.
The military man leaned over and drawled, "Boys, there's a Australian hotel about a block from the embassy. Every Monday and Friday, they have a great buffet. You oughta check it out."
So we did. The next Friday, my roommate left the guarded walls of the US Embassy, sprinted across Roxas Boulevard, dodging cars, buses, jeepneys, and those frickin' pedicabs that drive the wrong way down the street, and walked a block to the Hotel Swagman.
On the wall facing the street, a sign read "Welcome to the Outback!" A kangaroo stood watch by the door. We walked inside to see a bar and a small seating area. A waitress quickly greeted us.
"Good morning sir!" She motioned us to a table and showed us the menu.
"No thanks," I said, putting the menu back on the table. "I'll just have the buffet."
"Oh, I'm sorry sir."
"Oh, you don't have a buffet?"
"Yes sir."
My roommate quickly explained. "Oh, umm, one of our friends just told us that you had a buffet every Monday and Friday."
"Yes sir."
"Wait..." He paused. "Isn't today Friday?"
"Yes sir."
"But there's no buffet?"
"Yes sir."
I looked up to see an 8 foot crocodile mounted on the wall above me. The food was quite good, especially the $12 steaks. We've eaten there half a dozen times since, bringing back more interns each time.
The last time we ate there, we paid our bill around 1:00 and stood up to leave. As we walked through the door and past the kangaroo, we were hit with a gust of wind and torrential rain. We stood there for a moment, watching the wind peel the aluminum off the construction site next door. The streets began to flood, and we retreated past the kangaroo.
As we stood inside the doorway, the power went out. The generators whirred to life, and we stood some more. Five minutes later, I turned around, walked through the small seating area, and stepped into the bar. I ordered a Red Horse and watched the US play the World in baseball on ESPN while the rest of the interns waited patiently by the door.
Around 1:45, the rest of the interns walked into the bar. The US was losing. A few of us agreed to pay some guy 100 pesos ($2) to drive us back through the remnant of wind and rain, through the flooded streets of Manila, at the southwestern edge of Typhoon Helen, to the guarded walls of the US Embassy.
The military man leaned over and drawled, "Boys, there's a Australian hotel about a block from the embassy. Every Monday and Friday, they have a great buffet. You oughta check it out."
So we did. The next Friday, my roommate left the guarded walls of the US Embassy, sprinted across Roxas Boulevard, dodging cars, buses, jeepneys, and those frickin' pedicabs that drive the wrong way down the street, and walked a block to the Hotel Swagman.
On the wall facing the street, a sign read "Welcome to the Outback!" A kangaroo stood watch by the door. We walked inside to see a bar and a small seating area. A waitress quickly greeted us.
"Good morning sir!" She motioned us to a table and showed us the menu.
"No thanks," I said, putting the menu back on the table. "I'll just have the buffet."
"Oh, I'm sorry sir."
"Oh, you don't have a buffet?"
"Yes sir."
My roommate quickly explained. "Oh, umm, one of our friends just told us that you had a buffet every Monday and Friday."
"Yes sir."
"Wait..." He paused. "Isn't today Friday?"
"Yes sir."
"But there's no buffet?"
"Yes sir."
I looked up to see an 8 foot crocodile mounted on the wall above me. The food was quite good, especially the $12 steaks. We've eaten there half a dozen times since, bringing back more interns each time.
The last time we ate there, we paid our bill around 1:00 and stood up to leave. As we walked through the door and past the kangaroo, we were hit with a gust of wind and torrential rain. We stood there for a moment, watching the wind peel the aluminum off the construction site next door. The streets began to flood, and we retreated past the kangaroo.
As we stood inside the doorway, the power went out. The generators whirred to life, and we stood some more. Five minutes later, I turned around, walked through the small seating area, and stepped into the bar. I ordered a Red Horse and watched the US play the World in baseball on ESPN while the rest of the interns waited patiently by the door.
Around 1:45, the rest of the interns walked into the bar. The US was losing. A few of us agreed to pay some guy 100 pesos ($2) to drive us back through the remnant of wind and rain, through the flooded streets of Manila, at the southwestern edge of Typhoon Helen, to the guarded walls of the US Embassy.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Spirituality for Sale: Blasphemy or Worship?
My first warning sign should have been the sheer number of mzungu missionaries on my flight to Uganda.
Uganda is a highly religious place: Christianity (Catholicism and Evangelism) dominates, with a minority Muslim population and an infusion of witchcraft practices and cultish symbolism in the northern regions.
Uganda has a troubled history with religious extremism however. Idi Amin's violent reign, Joseph Kony's "Lord's Resistance Army (LRA)," the "Holy Spirit Movement of Alice Auma" and the "Movement for the Restoration of the Ten Commandments of God" (via mass suicide) were all spawned in the name of religion.
For this posting, however, I bring you the lighter side of religion in Uganda. The prevalence of religious business signage is as plentiful as the supply of warm Fanta and Coca-Cola products. From northern Uganda, the top ten "God-inspired" (if not divined) businesses for your dutiful observance:
10. "God's Mercy Restaurant" (the food alone begs for mercy)
9. "God Provides A. Guesthouse" (A is an initial, not a creative use of punctuation and syntax)
8. "God Blesses Us" Bus Transport (a welcome blessing on Ugandan roads)
7. "God's Oasis Accommodations"
6. "God Reads Bookshop" (naturally, it sells only office supplies and no books)
5. "God is Able Beauty Salon" (how able?)
4. "God Forgives Hotel & Bar" (so, drink up and repent afterwards?)
3. "God's Gift Pork Joint"
2. "God Loves Drugs Shop" (not making this up)
And, alas:
1. "God Delivers Hairdressers" (salon and vocational training center)
Amen.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Potholes and cream pastries
While yet another upsurge of political chaos brings my country one step closer to separation, I’m quite frankly content to find myself in the other hemisphere. It is comforting to know I have a safe place to seek asylum should things explode in Belgium
Scattered around town, you’ll find disused tram rails that stopped leading somewhere a while ago, abandoned public mailboxes from which no letters were picked up since the country’s independence from Portugal in 1975, once-gorgeous Mediterranean-style villas in ruins and crumbling communist residential high-rises flanking Maputo’s bustling avenues, and sadly underfunded museums with rather awkward displays, as kindly demonstrated by Georgina.
But amidst these reminders of colonization and the infrastructural decay caused by the civil war that ended in 1992, Mozambicans muddle through. When the Portuguese bus company that ran public transport in the country went bankrupt a couple of years ago, a complex system of privately run mini-buses emerged in its place. At first, I was quite delighted with this smoothly running system. Until I got my foot stuck in a rust hole in the floor of the bus while it was driving, and on another occasion was charged double the government-fixed price.
‘Is it because I’m white?’ I find myself thinking angrily – and then I smile. Privilege, social handicap… things are not very clear-cut in
- the most fabulous cream pastries
- good South African wines for really cheap
- shopping for African-print textiles (often manufactured in such un-African places as
- relaxing on the beach (polluted around
- making weekend excursions to
The cute little kingdom of Swaziland is a story all by itself. HIV rates are the highest in the world (40%), courtesy of His Royal Highness, private-school educated in the
As to my work, I’m negotiating quotes with an express mail courier for driving and flying blood samples and HIV test results around one of the most remote provinces of the country, designing a poster to teach nurses and parents about HIV symptoms in children, and interviewing HIV+ kids on how they like using pillboxes to take their daily doses of antiretrovirals. From a certain perspective, the Clinton Foundation’s work here may seem quixotic. As I have been reminded by several locals, a life is cheap in this part of the world.
Especially a child’s.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Countryside Observations
Phnom Penh has treated me well, but after experiencing the dusty, colorful, and bucolic surroundings the Cambodian countryside has to offer, I'm glad to have a respite from city-living. The Embassy here is now in full election mode as the National Assembly Election draws near (July 27). I've been tasked to observe, advise, and talk to rural election committees throughout the country--it's quite refreshing (though you must be patient) to interact with Cambodian citizens that are actively engaged in the election process. In order to avoid many of the politically motivated crimes and irregularities that surfaced in the 2003 elections, many candidates preface their messages of policy, reform, and persuasion with an emotional charge of unity for all Khmer people. Illegal immigrants are subtly excluded from this charge, but we'll leave that for another post.
As I prepare for two more provincial trips next week, I try to remind myself that apart from my official tasks and responsibilities, I should strive to delve deeper into the workings of Cambodian society and politics through casual conversations. After all, each village and commune has its own interesting story and characters. So, with that said, I try to continually keep myself from being too predictable--the local foods help, well, with the urging of my accompanying translator and driver. Simply put, country-fried spiders are pretty tasty.
Oh, on the subject of food, I must say that I hope I bring honor and pride to the WWS as I un/fortunately won the title of "Hot Dog Eating Champ" at the 4th of July Embassy party. Tom Niblock suggested we put on a similar contest in the fall-I think I'll just be a judge.
Cheers!
As I prepare for two more provincial trips next week, I try to remind myself that apart from my official tasks and responsibilities, I should strive to delve deeper into the workings of Cambodian society and politics through casual conversations. After all, each village and commune has its own interesting story and characters. So, with that said, I try to continually keep myself from being too predictable--the local foods help, well, with the urging of my accompanying translator and driver. Simply put, country-fried spiders are pretty tasty.
Oh, on the subject of food, I must say that I hope I bring honor and pride to the WWS as I un/fortunately won the title of "Hot Dog Eating Champ" at the 4th of July Embassy party. Tom Niblock suggested we put on a similar contest in the fall-I think I'll just be a judge.
Cheers!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Hello from Tanzania and Mozambique
My dearest classmates…
I hope you are all happy with your summer experiences- mine is far exceeding expectations as I end almost every day exhausted, but feeling fulfilled in ways that were seriously lacking at USAID and Princeton. I am working with WWF (wildlife, not wrestling) currently traveling around Tanzania after having spent several weeks traveling Mozambique. At every turn I meet individuals from private sector (and a few from government) who are beyond eager to find ways of engaging with WWF to change the developmental implications of their investments throughout this area. It is wonderful to engage with them and brainstorm on both a concrete and a big-picture systemic level about how we can together be instrumental in encouraging holistic development. If I hadn’t already been convinced of the importance of engaging the private sector (which I was), I would have been converted.
Traveling and staying in hotels (from 4 star to small shacks with three walls) is starting to take its toll and I miss home. It is also the first time traveling in the developing world where I am so far removed from the daily lives of people since my primary mode of engagement (with people I am not paying for services) is professional.
However, I have made a few friends with random folks that have led to – running with a friend around a small city in northern Moz and having kids point and laugh and run with us for a few feet trying to figure out what I was and what I was running from, jumping in a fishing boat with someone I met walking down a calm deserted beach at sunrise, helping a group of nuns plant manioc, helping a rural family put palms on their roof of their new home, 
ending up in the WRONG part of town and having fun finding my way back, and finally- being taken appallingly seriously by government ministers, the head of the Moz army, BP and Chiquita in an idea I had to change forestry practices throughout Mozambique… stay tuned…
On a more mundane note- I can’t wait to get back to Mozambique at the end of next week and see Saskia and Georgina again- we are going off to a beautiful game park to look for crazy wild animals (other than each other)!
If you are bored feel free to check out my somewhat out-of-date and less analytical personal blog at http://mshmoztanz.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
In case you've missed the NYT over the past few days...
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Have It Your Way
Many friends and family have asked about the Philippines. The best illustration thus far has been my trip to Burger King.
Thursday at noon, four of us walked into a Burger King at a rest stop outside Manila. The manager, dressed in a black suit, opened the glass door and smiled. "Welcome to Burger King sir!" The newly-tiled floor was immaculate. Behind the spotless counter, nine employees stood ready to take my order. I paid about $3,50 for the biggest burger, fries, and drink on the menu.
About twenty minutes later, a woman wearing a white uniform walked up to our table and asked if we wanted a massage. Having been warned about certain sketchy variations, I quickly excused myself and walked to the comfort room. A comfort room is a like a bathroom, only with a more comforting name.
Inside the comfort room, I ran into a man wearing a spotless uniform from a different fast food joint. He was shaving.
I returned to my table to find that the woman in the white uniform was giving massages of the non-sketchy variety. We each tipped her before she left. I walked back up to the counter to order a caramel sundae. I pronounced it "carmel". The nine employees stood behind the counter with blank looks on their faces until I pointed to the picture on the menu in front of me.
I picked up my tray and began to walk toward the trash can. Halfway there, I was intercepted by one of the employees. She took the tray and smiled. "Thank you sir!"
On the way out, the manager opened the door for us again. She smiled. "Good-bye sir!" The thermometer on the side of the building said 30 degrees. I still have no idea what that means.
I looked across the highway from the rest-stop. There were flooded rice fields and broken tin foil houses. At the entrance to one of the houses, there was a worn Coca-Cola sign.
Thursday at noon, four of us walked into a Burger King at a rest stop outside Manila. The manager, dressed in a black suit, opened the glass door and smiled. "Welcome to Burger King sir!" The newly-tiled floor was immaculate. Behind the spotless counter, nine employees stood ready to take my order. I paid about $3,50 for the biggest burger, fries, and drink on the menu.
About twenty minutes later, a woman wearing a white uniform walked up to our table and asked if we wanted a massage. Having been warned about certain sketchy variations, I quickly excused myself and walked to the comfort room. A comfort room is a like a bathroom, only with a more comforting name.
Inside the comfort room, I ran into a man wearing a spotless uniform from a different fast food joint. He was shaving.
I returned to my table to find that the woman in the white uniform was giving massages of the non-sketchy variety. We each tipped her before she left. I walked back up to the counter to order a caramel sundae. I pronounced it "carmel". The nine employees stood behind the counter with blank looks on their faces until I pointed to the picture on the menu in front of me.
I picked up my tray and began to walk toward the trash can. Halfway there, I was intercepted by one of the employees. She took the tray and smiled. "Thank you sir!"
On the way out, the manager opened the door for us again. She smiled. "Good-bye sir!" The thermometer on the side of the building said 30 degrees. I still have no idea what that means.
I looked across the highway from the rest-stop. There were flooded rice fields and broken tin foil houses. At the entrance to one of the houses, there was a worn Coca-Cola sign.
The Good News: Diane Is Alive. The Bad News: Diane Is Alive.
The following is a public service announcement from Diane:
Fellow Woos,
Greetings from Bukavu, DRC!! What fun to read all of your blog updates!! Just thought I'd throw in my two cents (or 11.2 francs congolais) about life in Bukavu, DRC, and work in children's radio programming at Search for Common Ground…
Fun things that have happened thus far:
1. Trekking through the mountains of Walungu, South Kivu to interview children working in gold mines.
2. Getting a crash course in journalism…(I can now talk about spots, jingles and reporting styles like a vrai journaliste!!).
3. Teaching 5 Congolese teenagers whose radio program I supervise to swim!
4. Living in a Belgian Colonial house on the beautiful Lake Kivu.
5. Finding the Pakistani shop (labeled PX shop) inside the MONUC compound and buying turmeric, cumin and chili powder.
Not-so-fun things that have happened thus far:
1. Finding out that the beautiful Lake Kivu is full of methane and carbon dioxide gas that could eventually escape and suffocate everyone for miles around.
2. Experiencing my first ever earthquake!!
3. Living next door to a mining company that flies its helicopter right past my window at 6:00am every morning!! (The neighbor on the other side is no better—he was a central banker in Mobutu's time, and reputedly stole huge amounts of the nation's wealth.).
4. Spending a month cooking under the stars on a single burner petrol camp stove from the 1960s before we FINALLY got a real gas stove.
5. The police shoot outs, bus breakdowns and malaria that keep the kids I work with from getting to work.
6. "Flushing" the Turkish toilet with the wrong lever my first day of work, and getting soaked from head to foot as a result! (They had to call the plumber to stop the gush of water and reattach the lever that I had pulled off the wall!!).
"Simply bizarre" category:
1. When the guards asked if I or anyone I knew would be interested in buying mercury or uranium from them.
2. Canned popcorn from Saudi Arabia.
3. Finding out that the powdered milk I buy at the ex-pat grocery store was intended as WFP rations for refugees…
Well, that's most of the excitement for now…Keep your stories coming!! Diane
Fellow Woos,
Greetings from Bukavu, DRC!! What fun to read all of your blog updates!! Just thought I'd throw in my two cents (or 11.2 francs congolais) about life in Bukavu, DRC, and work in children's radio programming at Search for Common Ground…
Fun things that have happened thus far:
1. Trekking through the mountains of Walungu, South Kivu to interview children working in gold mines.
2. Getting a crash course in journalism…(I can now talk about spots, jingles and reporting styles like a vrai journaliste!!).
3. Teaching 5 Congolese teenagers whose radio program I supervise to swim!
4. Living in a Belgian Colonial house on the beautiful Lake Kivu.
5. Finding the Pakistani shop (labeled PX shop) inside the MONUC compound and buying turmeric, cumin and chili powder.
Not-so-fun things that have happened thus far:
1. Finding out that the beautiful Lake Kivu is full of methane and carbon dioxide gas that could eventually escape and suffocate everyone for miles around.
2. Experiencing my first ever earthquake!!
3. Living next door to a mining company that flies its helicopter right past my window at 6:00am every morning!! (The neighbor on the other side is no better—he was a central banker in Mobutu's time, and reputedly stole huge amounts of the nation's wealth.).
4. Spending a month cooking under the stars on a single burner petrol camp stove from the 1960s before we FINALLY got a real gas stove.
5. The police shoot outs, bus breakdowns and malaria that keep the kids I work with from getting to work.
6. "Flushing" the Turkish toilet with the wrong lever my first day of work, and getting soaked from head to foot as a result! (They had to call the plumber to stop the gush of water and reattach the lever that I had pulled off the wall!!).
"Simply bizarre" category:
1. When the guards asked if I or anyone I knew would be interested in buying mercury or uranium from them.
2. Canned popcorn from Saudi Arabia.
3. Finding out that the powdered milk I buy at the ex-pat grocery store was intended as WFP rations for refugees…
Well, that's most of the excitement for now…Keep your stories coming!! Diane
Sunday, June 29, 2008
An uncommonly good time in Newark
Howdy y’all (see I learnt something this year)
Have been having a fine time living in Brooklyn and working at a charter school network in Newark. It has been in the words of our top middle school student “fierce”.
How so I hear you cry?
Well imagine its 7-30 am on your first day of work and you are welcomed by the beat of a drum calling students to order.
As you struggle to get your bearings the headmaster leads 180 kids in the following chant as ear splitting volume.
Who are you?
A star who shines brightly for others.
Why are you here?
To get an education
What will you have to do?
Work hard,
Work, work, work, hard
And what else?
Take care of each other
What will you need?
Self-discipline
Why?
To be the master of my own destiny
What else?
Respect for myself, my peers, teachers and all people
Where are you headed?
To college!!!
What will you do when you get there?
Succeed and then give back to others.
What are we?
A community.
All very striking as a spectacle – particularly for a career office bureaucrat like me. Until that is you see later that morning the stats of the community in which this school is working: 2 in 100 on average graduate a four-year college. At which point making eleven year olds chant this takes on considerably more significance.
It’s all part of a deliberate strategy of raising aspiration both among students and faculty. Each class is named after a institution of higher learning- even in the elementary school. Kindergarteners are called scholars and gather each Monday morning around a banner declaring “class of 2020”.
Aside from that two other distinctive features mark the school: strict discipline and data driven instruction. Students wear uniform, file to class in orderly lines, and make public apologies. The school tests every 6-8 weeks and uses very nuanced analysis of the results to shape lesson planning.
Driving all this is a set of leaders as dynamic and focused as any entrepreneurs that I have encountered. They see closing the attainment gap as the civil rights cause of their generation and they have given 10 years of their lives to addressing it.
While some may find their zeal and methods a bit unsettling the results are hard to disagree with. Northstar Academy is the best performing urban public school in the state. It has 100 per cent of its graduating high school class going to a 4 year college. All from an intake selected by lottery and (joy to Treasury ears) with less per pupil funding than regular public schools in Newark.
And yet.and yet…. Five weeks in a range of questions are bugging me. How scaleable is this? Would these leaders have had more impact if they had turned their talents to an existing public school? Does it make sense from a system wide perspective?
But I’m only half way through so I’m supposed to be confused at this point. Mmm… maybe I can find some enlightenment in a pint of Brooklyn lager.
For more info on uncommon schools check out
http://www.uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/USIVideo.html
(includes five year old chanting the Rutgers football song)
Have been having a fine time living in Brooklyn and working at a charter school network in Newark. It has been in the words of our top middle school student “fierce”.
How so I hear you cry?
Well imagine its 7-30 am on your first day of work and you are welcomed by the beat of a drum calling students to order.
As you struggle to get your bearings the headmaster leads 180 kids in the following chant as ear splitting volume.
Who are you?
A star who shines brightly for others.
Why are you here?
To get an education
What will you have to do?
Work hard,
Work, work, work, hard
And what else?
Take care of each other
What will you need?
Self-discipline
Why?
To be the master of my own destiny
What else?
Respect for myself, my peers, teachers and all people
Where are you headed?
To college!!!
What will you do when you get there?
Succeed and then give back to others.
What are we?
A community.
All very striking as a spectacle – particularly for a career office bureaucrat like me. Until that is you see later that morning the stats of the community in which this school is working: 2 in 100 on average graduate a four-year college. At which point making eleven year olds chant this takes on considerably more significance.
It’s all part of a deliberate strategy of raising aspiration both among students and faculty. Each class is named after a institution of higher learning- even in the elementary school. Kindergarteners are called scholars and gather each Monday morning around a banner declaring “class of 2020”.
Aside from that two other distinctive features mark the school: strict discipline and data driven instruction. Students wear uniform, file to class in orderly lines, and make public apologies. The school tests every 6-8 weeks and uses very nuanced analysis of the results to shape lesson planning.
Driving all this is a set of leaders as dynamic and focused as any entrepreneurs that I have encountered. They see closing the attainment gap as the civil rights cause of their generation and they have given 10 years of their lives to addressing it.
While some may find their zeal and methods a bit unsettling the results are hard to disagree with. Northstar Academy is the best performing urban public school in the state. It has 100 per cent of its graduating high school class going to a 4 year college. All from an intake selected by lottery and (joy to Treasury ears) with less per pupil funding than regular public schools in Newark.
And yet.and yet…. Five weeks in a range of questions are bugging me. How scaleable is this? Would these leaders have had more impact if they had turned their talents to an existing public school? Does it make sense from a system wide perspective?
But I’m only half way through so I’m supposed to be confused at this point. Mmm… maybe I can find some enlightenment in a pint of Brooklyn lager.
For more info on uncommon schools check out
http://www.uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/USIVideo.html
(includes five year old chanting the Rutgers football song)
Friday, June 27, 2008
Don´t Be Afraid to Ask
I have come to realize that Nicas are very talkative and quite curious. I don't think I have ever been asked the following things by people only two weeks after I'd first met them. Thus, I have decided to keep a list of "blunt" questions to see how many I have by the end of the summer. My favorites so far:
1. Are you agnostic?
2. Have you ever forgiven somebody cheating on you?
3. How many boyfriends have you had?
4. Are you a socialist? (this coming from someone twice my age after finding out that I´m from Bulgaria)
5. Are you a jealous person? (here, jealousy appears to be a personal trait not a temporary state)
Mind you, I got asked most of these questions when I wasn´t even directly involved in a conversation on the topic.
-denitza
1. Are you agnostic?
2. Have you ever forgiven somebody cheating on you?
3. How many boyfriends have you had?
4. Are you a socialist? (this coming from someone twice my age after finding out that I´m from Bulgaria)
5. Are you a jealous person? (here, jealousy appears to be a personal trait not a temporary state)
Mind you, I got asked most of these questions when I wasn´t even directly involved in a conversation on the topic.
-denitza
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
the news from Belfast: cold, rain, and the gift of a Mighty Bush
Greetings, friends.
I would also like to join Will's Luddite support group. This summer has introduced me to new technology-assisted activities - such as blogging, Facebook, and shaving - with which I am not entirely comfortable.
Nonetheless, it is wonderful to read your interesting posts about the Great Woo Summer and to learn many valuable lessons, most notably: 1) I'd rather work anywhere in Kansas City than at the U.N. and 2) not to travel on the policy workshop with Tom, the apparent love child of Zeus and Poseidon.
Life is good in Belfast, despite all the pasty white people, a lack of Ingrid, and my abject poverty on the pound sterling. I now weigh 113 pounds. Excuse me, 51 kilograms. When I have the energy, I work.
The daily tasks of diplomacy are presumably quite different in Northern Ireland than they are in the more exotic locales of most other State Department Woo interns. This is, after all, a wee, wet semi-autonomous land whose importance to the U.S. derives more from its tragic history, fragile peace, and ancestral ties than any strategic maneuvering that can be done within the confines of its small population or territory. Hence, the political work of the Consulate largely inheres in navigating the complicated dynamics of Stormont and trying to ensure - behind the scenes - that the antagonistic forces within and between unionism and nationalism are mollified. Encouraging foreign direct investment into Northern Ireland is also important, because prosperity and jobs are seen as the greatest bulwarks against future violence.
Until this week, however, my time in Belfast was not routine. Upon my arrival, I was informed that President Bush would be coming to Northern Ireland, ostensibly to extol a peace process that was solidified with the formation of a devolved power-sharing government just over one year ago. I was thus presented with a rare opportunity to see how a presidential visit works, from the art of avoiding protestors to the joy of interacting with White House staff - 95% of whom had endearing Southern accents.
As a taxpayer (barely), it was instructive to witness the incredible time and resources that are invested to ensure a safe and flawless trip. Weeks before the June 16th visit, dozens of advance staff from Embassy London, the White House, and the Secret Service had already arrived. Two prominent hotels provided temporary housing and an entire floor of one was altered beyond recognition to become a secure area, guarded by Marines. Countdown meetings were staged every night to scrutinize the details of arrival and departure, staging of the motorcade, and the movements of principals and press at each site visit. By last Monday, hundreds of support staff were in Belfast - all for a three hour tour that registered minimal press coverage outside of the United Kingdom and Ireland.
Of course, the meeting between the President, UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Irish Taoiseach (which basically means Prime Minister in the Irish language) Brian Cowen, and the new leaders of the Northern Ireland government was the most substantive component of the visit. It was also the most sensitive, because nationalists and unionists do not agree on who should have sovereignty over Northern Ireland or a voice in its affairs, and therefore who should be entitled to a seat at the table.
The President and First Lady also toured a local integrated school, an exception here as over 90% of schools are still, for all intents and purposes, divided along religious lines. There the President participated in drills for PeacePlayers International, which organizes non-sectarian basketball teams in recovering societies. Much to the delight of the local media, he missed four shots. The President also bought a plant grown by the schoolchildren, which they had dubbed "the Mighty Bush."
Bush hoops it up
I had the privilege to work at the Royal Air Force base where the President would arrive and depart. It was a surreal experience to be at Air Force One - a blery big plane, by the way - as the President left Europe for the last time in office. The best moment, however, occurred upon his arrival. Gordon Brown, an awkward politician who makes even W. seem relatively popular, greeted the President - and was instantly dismayed and confused by Bush's "hip-hop handshake."
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/2143451/Gordon-Brown-thrown-by-George-Bush
Presidential visits aside, the most rewarding aspects of being in Northern Ireland supersede work and derive from having an opportunity to uncover the troubled dynamics of a place I have always wanted to understand. Unfortunately, while the impressive political and economic achievements of the past ten years appear durable, this remains a very divided society where physical walls and mental barriers will continue to demarcate communities.
I would also like to join Will's Luddite support group. This summer has introduced me to new technology-assisted activities - such as blogging, Facebook, and shaving - with which I am not entirely comfortable.
Nonetheless, it is wonderful to read your interesting posts about the Great Woo Summer and to learn many valuable lessons, most notably: 1) I'd rather work anywhere in Kansas City than at the U.N. and 2) not to travel on the policy workshop with Tom, the apparent love child of Zeus and Poseidon.
Life is good in Belfast, despite all the pasty white people, a lack of Ingrid, and my abject poverty on the pound sterling. I now weigh 113 pounds. Excuse me, 51 kilograms. When I have the energy, I work.
The daily tasks of diplomacy are presumably quite different in Northern Ireland than they are in the more exotic locales of most other State Department Woo interns. This is, after all, a wee, wet semi-autonomous land whose importance to the U.S. derives more from its tragic history, fragile peace, and ancestral ties than any strategic maneuvering that can be done within the confines of its small population or territory. Hence, the political work of the Consulate largely inheres in navigating the complicated dynamics of Stormont and trying to ensure - behind the scenes - that the antagonistic forces within and between unionism and nationalism are mollified. Encouraging foreign direct investment into Northern Ireland is also important, because prosperity and jobs are seen as the greatest bulwarks against future violence.
Until this week, however, my time in Belfast was not routine. Upon my arrival, I was informed that President Bush would be coming to Northern Ireland, ostensibly to extol a peace process that was solidified with the formation of a devolved power-sharing government just over one year ago. I was thus presented with a rare opportunity to see how a presidential visit works, from the art of avoiding protestors to the joy of interacting with White House staff - 95% of whom had endearing Southern accents.
As a taxpayer (barely), it was instructive to witness the incredible time and resources that are invested to ensure a safe and flawless trip. Weeks before the June 16th visit, dozens of advance staff from Embassy London, the White House, and the Secret Service had already arrived. Two prominent hotels provided temporary housing and an entire floor of one was altered beyond recognition to become a secure area, guarded by Marines. Countdown meetings were staged every night to scrutinize the details of arrival and departure, staging of the motorcade, and the movements of principals and press at each site visit. By last Monday, hundreds of support staff were in Belfast - all for a three hour tour that registered minimal press coverage outside of the United Kingdom and Ireland.
Of course, the meeting between the President, UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Irish Taoiseach (which basically means Prime Minister in the Irish language) Brian Cowen, and the new leaders of the Northern Ireland government was the most substantive component of the visit. It was also the most sensitive, because nationalists and unionists do not agree on who should have sovereignty over Northern Ireland or a voice in its affairs, and therefore who should be entitled to a seat at the table.
The President and First Lady also toured a local integrated school, an exception here as over 90% of schools are still, for all intents and purposes, divided along religious lines. There the President participated in drills for PeacePlayers International, which organizes non-sectarian basketball teams in recovering societies. Much to the delight of the local media, he missed four shots. The President also bought a plant grown by the schoolchildren, which they had dubbed "the Mighty Bush."
Bush hoops it up
I had the privilege to work at the Royal Air Force base where the President would arrive and depart. It was a surreal experience to be at Air Force One - a blery big plane, by the way - as the President left Europe for the last time in office. The best moment, however, occurred upon his arrival. Gordon Brown, an awkward politician who makes even W. seem relatively popular, greeted the President - and was instantly dismayed and confused by Bush's "hip-hop handshake."
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/2143451/Gordon-Brown-thrown-by-George-Bush
Presidential visits aside, the most rewarding aspects of being in Northern Ireland supersede work and derive from having an opportunity to uncover the troubled dynamics of a place I have always wanted to understand. Unfortunately, while the impressive political and economic achievements of the past ten years appear durable, this remains a very divided society where physical walls and mental barriers will continue to demarcate communities.
Murder Mystery - for all the deep thinkers amongst us
Hey. Hope all is well. I thought you would appreciate this article on rising crime in American cities. It refers to post housing-projects programs and housing vouchers, precisely the sort of thing we did for 501. Interesting side effect: rising crime in American suburbia as a result of relocation of gang members with housing vouchers. Perhaps a small price to pay for an overall good program?
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/memphis-crime
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/memphis-crime
Monday, June 23, 2008
Little pig, little pig, let me in
So while building houses out of straw bales would seem a little more apropos to those Woos in far-flung parts of the world, Clare and I tried it out this past Saturday, just a stone's throw from the Capitol. The Environmental and Energy Study Institute (www.eesi.org) organized a Congressional Hearing led by leaders in the sustainable building field, followed the next day by a hands-on workshop. For those of you not familiar with the process, and concerned with how you're going to get a house without an ARM, it goes a little something like this:
1. Measure out the bale length you need and if necessary, divide the bale up into two separate bales using a large bale needles and twine, as modeled by Clare:
2. Shave down the ends of the bale to right angles using what looks like an oversized cheese grater (or powered grinder...which they wouldn't let me use...good call) so that the bales fit well together
3. Stack the bales together in a frame, and compress them together using the frame or compression strapping.
4. Cover the interior and exterior faces in slip (watered down clay) to hold straw together and allow to dry. Slip allows comes in handy as a sunscreen, as I model below.
5. Apply plaster (clay, sand, water, chopped straw) and smooth with trowel. Special instructions for those under the age of 8: a. Throw clay at wall b. Become bored with trowel and c. Throw clay at strange man with beard.
6. Allow to dry and await failed US foreign policy (concocted in 501 memo) to bring poverty and strife to your home. Rinse and repeat.
Unfortunately, since only Clare and I were the workhorses on this one (others stepped in from time to time), we didn't get as far as the folks had hoped. I'm pretty sure a Big Bad Wolf could take this one down pretty quick, regardless of the hair on my chinny chin chin:
Lessons from Nicaragua
As I head towards the end of my second week in Nicaragua, I try to summarize what I have learned about the locals and their culture so far:
1. It´s OK to be a single mom with two or more kids at 23 but it´s not OK not to be (or not to have been) married at 29. People react with surprise at the latter but find the former a pretty regular thing.
2. Nicas´ favorite piece of clothing is jeans. Even in the hottest of days, you will see most people (including women) wearing jeans. And shorts are unheard of, except of course among “cheles” (the term used by Nicas to refer to whites).
3. Nicas are in love with American culture – from baseball to hip hop to English names. I never expected to meet so many Judiths, Williams, Jennys, Marjories, Leonards, and Lisettes here.
4. Unless you are craving male attention, it´s better to tell Nica men that you are married. It´s usually one of the first things they ask after inquiring about age. Boyfriends, fiances, etc. are not an adequate reason for stopping their advances. I have gotten this advice from several women already, so I think I may actually take heed.
5. People here love to dance. And, I mean, really love to dance (usually to reggaetón, salsa, merengue, bachata). Last Friday, the office was celebrating it´s second anniversary. Along with lots of food and drink (starting at 2 pm), the festivities included a talent show and lots of dancing. Nothing could stop my 49-yr old supervisor and the rest of the management from taking over the dance floor.
6. Flor de Caña (the pride of Nicaragua) is the best rum I have ever tasted.
And aside from that, I thought you might find the following article interesting. Some of you may have heard or read about the LifeStraw – a simple, easy-to-use device for purifying water. Here is the story of its inception. A very smart idea.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121372818319181665.html?mod=loomia&loomia_si=t0:a31:g2:r4:c0.192655
-denitza
1. It´s OK to be a single mom with two or more kids at 23 but it´s not OK not to be (or not to have been) married at 29. People react with surprise at the latter but find the former a pretty regular thing.
2. Nicas´ favorite piece of clothing is jeans. Even in the hottest of days, you will see most people (including women) wearing jeans. And shorts are unheard of, except of course among “cheles” (the term used by Nicas to refer to whites).
3. Nicas are in love with American culture – from baseball to hip hop to English names. I never expected to meet so many Judiths, Williams, Jennys, Marjories, Leonards, and Lisettes here.
4. Unless you are craving male attention, it´s better to tell Nica men that you are married. It´s usually one of the first things they ask after inquiring about age. Boyfriends, fiances, etc. are not an adequate reason for stopping their advances. I have gotten this advice from several women already, so I think I may actually take heed.
5. People here love to dance. And, I mean, really love to dance (usually to reggaetón, salsa, merengue, bachata). Last Friday, the office was celebrating it´s second anniversary. Along with lots of food and drink (starting at 2 pm), the festivities included a talent show and lots of dancing. Nothing could stop my 49-yr old supervisor and the rest of the management from taking over the dance floor.
6. Flor de Caña (the pride of Nicaragua) is the best rum I have ever tasted.
And aside from that, I thought you might find the following article interesting. Some of you may have heard or read about the LifeStraw – a simple, easy-to-use device for purifying water. Here is the story of its inception. A very smart idea.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121372818319181665.html?mod=loomia&loomia_si=t0:a31:g2:r4:c0.192655
-denitza
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Rock You Like a Hurricane
Sometimes when the Pickerings get together, we play a little game called “What would you be doing if you didn't get the Pickering?” The answers vary quite a bit. I’ve answered everything from investment banking to selling jewelry, from graduate school to writing greeting cards for Hallmark.
The next time I’m asked that question, I’ll know exactly what to say: If it wasn’t for the Pickering, I’d be a weatherman. The forecast? Severe weather everywhere I go.
Yesterday, Typhoon Fengshen hit the eastern islands of the Philippines. It turned north and swept toward Taiwan this morning. My aparment lost power sometime in the night. I woke up at 7:00 AM to torrential rain, a charcoal-gray sky, and winds thrashing the huge trees outside my window.
The power and wireless internet are back, and it appears that the worst of the storm is over. I ventured out to the grocery store this morning and made it back with mangos. The roads are pretty flooded and littered with tree branches. On one major road, a fence in the median had blown into traffic. Still, Manila missed the worst of it.
All these tornados, 500 year floods, and hurricanes in the past month have made me think more about the future and the need to be prepared for it. Therefore I, Tom Niblock, in sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath, upon my expiration, the following possessions:
To Liam, one Adidas Army Sports backpack (sorry Judy).
To Asher, one plastic chicken that lays gumballs.
To Benny, one old TV that might work and one fridge that probably worked before I moved it out of Lisa and Sarah’s room.
To Jonathon Kent, all my Iowa Hawkeye t-shirts and sweatshirts.
To Clare, Darren, Ed, and Scott, my copy of China: The Fragile Superpower.
And to Jack, this music video.
It's early morning/The sun comes out/Last night was shaking/And pretty loud
My cat is purring/And scratches my skin/So what is wrong/With another sin…
-Rock You Like a Hurricane, The Scorpions, 1984
The next time I’m asked that question, I’ll know exactly what to say: If it wasn’t for the Pickering, I’d be a weatherman. The forecast? Severe weather everywhere I go.
Yesterday, Typhoon Fengshen hit the eastern islands of the Philippines. It turned north and swept toward Taiwan this morning. My aparment lost power sometime in the night. I woke up at 7:00 AM to torrential rain, a charcoal-gray sky, and winds thrashing the huge trees outside my window.
The power and wireless internet are back, and it appears that the worst of the storm is over. I ventured out to the grocery store this morning and made it back with mangos. The roads are pretty flooded and littered with tree branches. On one major road, a fence in the median had blown into traffic. Still, Manila missed the worst of it.
All these tornados, 500 year floods, and hurricanes in the past month have made me think more about the future and the need to be prepared for it. Therefore I, Tom Niblock, in sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath, upon my expiration, the following possessions:
To Liam, one Adidas Army Sports backpack (sorry Judy).
To Asher, one plastic chicken that lays gumballs.
To Benny, one old TV that might work and one fridge that probably worked before I moved it out of Lisa and Sarah’s room.
To Jonathon Kent, all my Iowa Hawkeye t-shirts and sweatshirts.
To Clare, Darren, Ed, and Scott, my copy of China: The Fragile Superpower.
And to Jack, this music video.
It's early morning/The sun comes out/Last night was shaking/And pretty loud
My cat is purring/And scratches my skin/So what is wrong/With another sin…
-Rock You Like a Hurricane, The Scorpions, 1984
Royal Lessons
Marked on a map by 4 intersecting waterways (and usually by a star symbol), Phnom Penh is unlike any other city I've ever been to--I think that's why I've done so much real-life "learning" in the course of 13 days (more on that below). As my workload increases (focusing on human rights, CT, and the justice system) and my expat social circle widens, I've become much more receptive to the impromptu eccentricities, meetings, meals, and events here. And I've already made an impression on the local Phnom Penh "movers and shakers"--one such businessman gave me a compliment (I think) this morning by saying that I really, really resemble one noteworthy American politician: Mr. John Kerry.***
On to my list of lessons learned:
Hoping everyone has a safe, unpredictable, and productive summer. I'll try to do my part. -bp
***This description by a Cambodian is not as funny as Bilal's encounter. See his most recent post if you haven't already.
On to my list of lessons learned:
- Mother Nature is predictable. Yep, at least here anyway. I tell time now by the daily afternoon rains.
- Used bookstores here are awesome. And are easily found. No luck on finding my policy workshop reading list though.
- Commuting in SE Asia is an adrenaline-producing endeavor. Google "tuk-tuk" to get an idea. From time to time, I play real-live Frogger on the main boulevards. I haven't lost yet.
- I'm not Ironman. I learned this before watching the movie here a couple days ago. In the 12 days I was relaxing back home in California, I played 4 games of basketball. I fractured a bone in my left hand while playing in a game two days before my flight to the Kingdom of Cambodia. And though it didn't hurt, I had it examined last Friday. And now I have a cast--ending my glorious streak of no fractured or broken bones. Oh well.
- Bilal is now a certified cartographer. Seriously. It might have to do with the fact that most streets here are known by numbers and not by names. Or maybe Bilal just wouldn't dare to lead me astray.
- I'm now a certified food "enthusiast." Surprising as it may sound, Phnom Penh dining is unreal in terms of choices and tastiness. I've already eaten good American, Chinese, Korean, Khmer, Thai, Lebanese, Indian, Belgian (well, imported chocolate), French, and Italian food. Only about 180 more ethnic foods to go.
- I still don't like using maps on the street. Or rude expats. Enough said.
Hoping everyone has a safe, unpredictable, and productive summer. I'll try to do my part. -bp
***This description by a Cambodian is not as funny as Bilal's encounter. See his most recent post if you haven't already.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Contents of my Emergency backpack
So the one really cool thing about working in downtown Washington DC is that on my third day, I was issued an Emergency Backpack by HR. Did anyone else get one of these and if so, what's in it? I want to compare...
Contents:
one silver emergency survival blanket
24 blocks of hardtack (which I googled and found is from the civil war!)
4 tiny bags of water
Apparently, this will last me 4 days... ah, post-9/11 life in DC!
Happy World Refugee Day, everyone!
Contents:
one silver emergency survival blanket
24 blocks of hardtack (which I googled and found is from the civil war!)
4 tiny bags of water
Apparently, this will last me 4 days... ah, post-9/11 life in DC!
Happy World Refugee Day, everyone!
Hup Holland Hup! (From Geneva)
First off, I'm glad I got this far. Everything about setting up a google/gmail account is in german (incl. this page) and I can't find the "english" button. Also, does anyone else notice that the little ads that automatically pop up (i.e., like on facebook) are location appropriate? I.e., meet sexy swiss singles now!
Anyways, I'm in Geneva along with Catherine, Andi, Wei Yuan and Sarah. It's been a lot of fun so far. Clare would be proud of me: I organized an impromptu family dinner for participants in the Duke/HEI program who live in my building and it went well, was fun and people actually came! B/c of food restrictions (gluten, veggie...) we served stir fried veggies and rice. To be environmentally friendly (Carlos and Frank would approve) everyone brought their own plate/utensils and we served everyone up a portion of rice and veggies. It was really nice. (But in a strange way reminded me of those posters of monks feeding the poor -- hmmm...)
Now that I don't have school to stress about, I've started worrying about the Euro Championships...i.e., will Holland (my team) beat Russia on Saturday? Will I find a TV screen (I will be in the mountains)? Will my fellow hikers understand my urgency to find a TV screen...etc. etc. It's a little ridiculous, but I've just really gotten into it.
Anyways, my internship is going well. I'm quite busy, but finally feel like I'm settling in. It's a nice feeling.
Ciao, Pam.
Anyways, I'm in Geneva along with Catherine, Andi, Wei Yuan and Sarah. It's been a lot of fun so far. Clare would be proud of me: I organized an impromptu family dinner for participants in the Duke/HEI program who live in my building and it went well, was fun and people actually came! B/c of food restrictions (gluten, veggie...) we served stir fried veggies and rice. To be environmentally friendly (Carlos and Frank would approve) everyone brought their own plate/utensils and we served everyone up a portion of rice and veggies. It was really nice. (But in a strange way reminded me of those posters of monks feeding the poor -- hmmm...)
Now that I don't have school to stress about, I've started worrying about the Euro Championships...i.e., will Holland (my team) beat Russia on Saturday? Will I find a TV screen (I will be in the mountains)? Will my fellow hikers understand my urgency to find a TV screen...etc. etc. It's a little ridiculous, but I've just really gotten into it.
Anyways, my internship is going well. I'm quite busy, but finally feel like I'm settling in. It's a nice feeling.
Ciao, Pam.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The First Rule of Fight Club
Casablanca
Rick: How can you close me up? On what grounds?
Captain Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!
[a croupier hands Renault a pile of money]
Croupier: Your winnings, sir.
Captain Renault: [softly] Oh, thank you very much.
Captain Renault: [aloud] Everybody out at once!
Had it not been for the profound, non-obvious knowledge imparted upon me during 501, I would have been shocked and chagrined by the amount of bureaucratic inefficiencies I've encountered during my first week at the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD). Who among us would have ever thought that the federal government would be fraught with such bureaucratic inefficiencies:
1 "n" = young, Asian-American intern
2 "n"s = middle-aged, white senior official
I still have yet to meet Mr. Shinn, which makes me wonder if Mr. Shinn is simply my Tyler Durden-esque identity. I'll let you all know the madness that ensues when I finally meet my doppleganger.
And please note that the Office Space quote is simply a hook to get people to read this far and is not meant to imply that anyone is an ass-clown.
Rick: How can you close me up? On what grounds?
Captain Renault: I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!
[a croupier hands Renault a pile of money]
Croupier: Your winnings, sir.
Captain Renault: [softly] Oh, thank you very much.
Captain Renault: [aloud] Everybody out at once!
Had it not been for the profound, non-obvious knowledge imparted upon me during 501, I would have been shocked and chagrined by the amount of bureaucratic inefficiencies I've encountered during my first week at the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD). Who among us would have ever thought that the federal government would be fraught with such bureaucratic inefficiencies:
- It took a month of calling and e-mailing for the gov't to let me know that my security clearance had been approved...3 weeks before I first contacted them.
- There is a standardized paper clip that must accompany all multi-page submissions.
- Finally, it took a week for IT to set up my computer and network access, so I thought I would blog to commemorate the fact that I finally have a computer.
Michael Bolton: Yeah, well at least your name isn't Michael Bolton.
Samir: You know there's nothing wrong with that name.
Michael Bolton: There was nothing wrong with it... until I was about 12 years old and that no-talent ass clown became famous and started winning Grammys.
Samir: Hmm... well why don't you just go by Mike instead of Michael?
Michael Bolton: No way. Why should I change? He's the one who sucks.
1 "n" = young, Asian-American intern
2 "n"s = middle-aged, white senior official
I still have yet to meet Mr. Shinn, which makes me wonder if Mr. Shinn is simply my Tyler Durden-esque identity. I'll let you all know the madness that ensues when I finally meet my doppleganger.
And please note that the Office Space quote is simply a hook to get people to read this far and is not meant to imply that anyone is an ass-clown.
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