Despite enjoying living without a functioning car, we came to the conclusion over the weekend that one was desirable. Neither of us was super eager to up and move to Rockville, and transit options were pretty awful for Joe staying where we are (90 minutes each way if all the connections worked out). Plus, it kind of sucks not to have a car. ZipCar has been useful, and Amtrak for NJ trips, but late night trips to the store and grabbing weekend dinner at Afghan Restaurant and lots of other little things we couldn't do made it not so fun.
I had a panic attack Sunday about the costs, but once we sat down and actually looked at the numbers, it became clear just how much better two paychecks are than one, at least in the short term. We can have our not-very-old Camry or Accord or the like, pay down debts, and build savings. We probably can't quickly build a huge house downpayment in the near term, but I hope we'll have one before the market turns back up.
Mostly, though, sitting down and talking about our money was only partly about feeling better about the money and turned out to be much more an exercise about feeling really secure about our relationship and that we were going to do things together in this life.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thursday, June 04, 2009
I hate writing
The cold I thought I was getting over a week ago came to fruition that evening and has been with me since. I stayed home from work to try to get better and felt okay this past weekend in Chicago, but since then I've felt the same cloudy tired blahness every day. My teeth hurt from the sinus pressure, I break out into coughing fits that give me headaches. The other night I went through half a box of tissues, although things seem to have dried up since. In the middle of a long cold like this I begin to wonder if I'll ever be back to normal, if maybe this cold will stick with me forever and I'll be forced to drag through all the rest of my days sniffling and coughing and holding my head.
Maybe I need to be hitting the whiskey -- I seem to recall that working when I was younger, and in my prime.
Anyway, in the midst of this illness I had grantwriting group, where I was simultaneously slammed and complimented almost to an embarrassing level. Slam: Your sentences are hard to read because they have too many words and clauses and subclauses (this is what happens when I have to cram 10 arguments into a single page). Compliment: This problem may stem from your extreme thoughtfulness as manifested in the fact that you are the best reviewer here and your comments are always wildly helpful. I was a little stung by the writing comment, as I've always considered myself a good writer, but I have always tended toward sentences that require a diagrammer's mind (like mine) to fully grasp in one read. But I was pleased with the reviewing comment because if there's one thing I think I'm actually good at in this world it is editing and, more broadly, figuring out how a piece of writing could be more compelling. I get to do some of that in teaching and advising and working with other colleagues, and those are the times I feel most useful as a human being.
Going down the spectrum of feeling useful is when I have to do any of my own writing. This week's task was to fix those Specific Aims we tore up last week and add a whole Research Design section. Fortunately the National Institutes of Health are soon moving to a shorter application length, meaning I only have to crank out 6-8 pages instead of 14. But the first thing I did yesterday when I finally got going was to completely re-write the Specific Aims page, by which I mean I wrote up Specific Aims for an entirely different study. I think it's a more interesting study (writing up the research design for the prior study sounded so boring I just couldn't do it), but it didn't move me forward terribly well. I need to write up some semblance of a Research Design to turn in tomorrow at group. I'm procrastinating, and my teeth hurt.
Because even further down the spectrum of feeling useful? Planning actual research. I know I managed once upon a time to pull it off, but often I have no confidence that I can do it again. It involves talking to people, building connections, relying on others, filling out paperwork. Everything that makes my stomach churn with anxiety.
Maybe I need to be hitting the whiskey -- I seem to recall that working when I was younger, and in my prime.
Anyway, in the midst of this illness I had grantwriting group, where I was simultaneously slammed and complimented almost to an embarrassing level. Slam: Your sentences are hard to read because they have too many words and clauses and subclauses (this is what happens when I have to cram 10 arguments into a single page). Compliment: This problem may stem from your extreme thoughtfulness as manifested in the fact that you are the best reviewer here and your comments are always wildly helpful. I was a little stung by the writing comment, as I've always considered myself a good writer, but I have always tended toward sentences that require a diagrammer's mind (like mine) to fully grasp in one read. But I was pleased with the reviewing comment because if there's one thing I think I'm actually good at in this world it is editing and, more broadly, figuring out how a piece of writing could be more compelling. I get to do some of that in teaching and advising and working with other colleagues, and those are the times I feel most useful as a human being.
Going down the spectrum of feeling useful is when I have to do any of my own writing. This week's task was to fix those Specific Aims we tore up last week and add a whole Research Design section. Fortunately the National Institutes of Health are soon moving to a shorter application length, meaning I only have to crank out 6-8 pages instead of 14. But the first thing I did yesterday when I finally got going was to completely re-write the Specific Aims page, by which I mean I wrote up Specific Aims for an entirely different study. I think it's a more interesting study (writing up the research design for the prior study sounded so boring I just couldn't do it), but it didn't move me forward terribly well. I need to write up some semblance of a Research Design to turn in tomorrow at group. I'm procrastinating, and my teeth hurt.
Because even further down the spectrum of feeling useful? Planning actual research. I know I managed once upon a time to pull it off, but often I have no confidence that I can do it again. It involves talking to people, building connections, relying on others, filling out paperwork. Everything that makes my stomach churn with anxiety.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Werk
I opted to work from home today, since it was snowing, and it was an open day sandwiched between days full of meetings. I managed to finish this paper that has been plaguing me lightly for years and heavily for a couple of months, and I was feeling good, and then I checked my messages and I was immediately depressed under the suffocating weight of everything that dissatisfies me right now. Home life is good, students brighten my day and make me feel like I know stuff... and the rest puts me in a funk. If change is coming, I'm inclined to resist it less and less.
I need to write papers and get them on my CV as fast as possible.
I need to write papers and get them on my CV as fast as possible.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Today is annoying
My bus never came, as far as I can tell (I was late, but there were people waiting there when I arrived). The long bus came and promptly ate my $5 that I tried to add to my SmarTrip card that will have $30 whenever the transfer from my old broken card happens (after which I have to do some magic incantation at a Metro stop machine to get it into the card). Then the bus sat at the stop for ages.
Comcast raised the DVR price just a month or so after I ordered it. They also started charging all kinds of crazy fees that I think must be because I haven't returned the old box because I don't have an easy way to get all the way out to far out Rockville (public transit take like a half hour from work, I just discovered). They're charging me like $6/month for the box to sit in a corner collecting dust.
It's effing cold out and I'm tired.
Comcast raised the DVR price just a month or so after I ordered it. They also started charging all kinds of crazy fees that I think must be because I haven't returned the old box because I don't have an easy way to get all the way out to far out Rockville (public transit take like a half hour from work, I just discovered). They're charging me like $6/month for the box to sit in a corner collecting dust.
It's effing cold out and I'm tired.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
The confusion is not mine
My advisor was laboring under this notion that my thesis defense was not open to the public in any way (so a shorter talk would make sense, because why talk for 40 minutes to people who have read your dissertation). I feel like the department academic advisor: "Doesn't anyone read the handbook!" It's on the school calendar. I told everyone to come if they hadn't heard me blather already.
So maybe I'm talking for 40 minutes, maybe for 25, maybe for 10 if no outside people show up. Who knows! It's a mystery.
Don't bother to be prepared, kids, cuz you're just going to have to wing it anyway.
(Lest anyone think otherwise, my advisor is great... I'm just not very thrilled with this misunderstanding).
So maybe I'm talking for 40 minutes, maybe for 25, maybe for 10 if no outside people show up. Who knows! It's a mystery.
Don't bother to be prepared, kids, cuz you're just going to have to wing it anyway.
(Lest anyone think otherwise, my advisor is great... I'm just not very thrilled with this misunderstanding).
Defense tomorrow
So, I was all prepared for my defense and utterly unnervous about it as a result (esp given the context of having presented most of the material already to questioning audiences and of planning 22 lectures for my class). Then my advisor told me Friday that I should really cut my talk to 25 minutes from the 40 the committee chair had suggested when I emailed about it 10 days ago (for the purposes of, you know, having my act together), and then lectured me about not coming off as too casual. You know, casual like a three day lead time on advice about important parameters for my important talk when I emailed about it 10 days ago.
Goodbye grad school. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out of my life.
Goodbye grad school. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out of my life.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Crummy IS
I haven't had internet at work all week. I called Monday, bothered them in person yesterday, but when I called again this morning, the woman told me the ticket hadn't even been assigned yet! Incompetence! I need to get my class ready!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Winner!
I won the department poster competition (in the doctoral category) today! I got a nice Hopkins photo frame and some notecards with the pretty hospital facade on them.
Still no word from NCA -- my advisor said not to worry since they had all kinds of problems sending out acceptance emails, but I still haven't heard and I thought they were going to work those out by today.
UPDATE: I just checked the website again, and they must still be having problems because they just posted a big ol' pdf of all the accepted papers. And mine is in!!!
Still no word from NCA -- my advisor said not to worry since they had all kinds of problems sending out acceptance emails, but I still haven't heard and I thought they were going to work those out by today.
UPDATE: I just checked the website again, and they must still be having problems because they just posted a big ol' pdf of all the accepted papers. And mine is in!!!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Also
The commute is horrible. It takes at least an hour if things aren't awful, but usually more than that. I wish I could move sooner.
Limbo
Monday and Tuesday were pretty much what I expected: getting an ID badge, parking, touring the grounds, getting small amounts of work done, etc. Today all the weirdness hits home. I'm currently a contractor until I get my PhD and I can take the official federal job, so that's causing all sorts of delay in the sense that everything including the format of my email is based on this idea that I'm a 6 week contract employee instead of a real faculty member. Also, there are just other sorts of half states I'm dealing with. The computer that was in this office turned out to have a problem, so I'm using this older computer temporarily, which means I can't set it up how I like and I'm trying not to even save much to it -- it doesn't even have the latest version of IE or anything, so it really feels temporary. And finally, my office, while vastly cleaner than when I saw it during my interview, still has a ton of other people's leftover crap in it. I don't know when it's going away. I've moved the stuff I don't want over as much as possible so I have lots of empty shelves waiting for books and things, so that makes me feel better.
Finally, I seem to be at this weird social juncture in which orientation appears to be over but I'm not really feeling like I have all I need to move forward with things like my class (it would help if my Blackboard woudl get activated). Not that I don't have three conference presentations to prepare for next week, but still.
Finally, I seem to be at this weird social juncture in which orientation appears to be over but I'm not really feeling like I have all I need to move forward with things like my class (it would help if my Blackboard woudl get activated). Not that I don't have three conference presentations to prepare for next week, but still.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Ugh, editing
So, I got my dissertation back from my advisor on Monday, and I was pleased to see that there weren't really any major overhauls I needed to do. But that means that instead I just have a bunch of piddly shit to slog through. Of course there are a few areas where I actually had to dig up a few articles, which is such a pain because it's a ton of time for like one paragraph. I hoped to get this out Friday, but I still have a giant list of things to do.
Not to mention redoing a ton of graphs because my advisor and I have complete opposite ways of reading and interpreting graphs (there's this one graph in a paper we have coming out that I always have to redraw because it's completely backwards to me).
I start work tomorrow, which should mostly be a day of logistics, like I-9 forms and email setups and stuff. I'm pretty excited. I'm not that excited about commuting for about 6 weeks, but I'll probably try to swing it so I can come in later and leave later after the first few days.
Not to mention redoing a ton of graphs because my advisor and I have complete opposite ways of reading and interpreting graphs (there's this one graph in a paper we have coming out that I always have to redraw because it's completely backwards to me).
I start work tomorrow, which should mostly be a day of logistics, like I-9 forms and email setups and stuff. I'm pretty excited. I'm not that excited about commuting for about 6 weeks, but I'll probably try to swing it so I can come in later and leave later after the first few days.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Silence
Either 1) my advisor thinks my draft is really terrible and is avoiding telling me by waiting until I bother him or 2) it's just taking him a while to edit. I'm not going to ask him and ruin my vacation if it's the former.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
The trip home
Monday morning (June 11), in my hotel room, I watched SportsCenter (as opposed to SpohtsCentah, the version with cricket and soccer instead of baseball and American football) and felt all nervsy about flying and about my car being impounded. Everything fit in my luggage just fine, including the buttload of pottery, so I felt happy about that. I went downstairs with my bags, paid for the last four days, and then talked to Freddie until the driver came. I gave him my SIM card, since I no longer need it; I haven’t tried calling it to see if it works.
At work I sent a couple of emails, taped up the box with my surveys, and said goodbye to folks who were around. I think the secretary was bummed to see me go; she started working there just before I arrived and she’s gotten used to going home together.
I arrived at the airport, for in line, and had no problems with my bags. I was worried that they might be over the weight restrictions, but apparently not. I went through passport control (which had no line, but was very crowded later). I blew my remaining 500 kwacha on a tiny lunch and a bottle of water, but I got to sit in the fancy lounge and read an old newspaper. I used up my 5 free minutes of SkyBand internet and read my sister’s blog. I then beat the crowd through security. They asked me how much kwacha I was leaving the country with, and I was pleased to say none.
I’ve never been so excited to leave a place in my life. I was so giddy I could feel it all the way up in my shoulders. I’ve flown out of worse places – Minneapolis/St. Paul, for example, after we had to sleep there – but that was more a feeling of weariness than actual happiness to leave. I’ve been excited to land places. But this was really about being thrilled to say adios Lilongwe!
As we flew out, I could see Mchenzi, which is where we did a lot of the field work, so that was neat. I also finally got a good look at the statehouse, which is on the edge of the city. Lunch on SAA was okay. I got the vegetarian, which was probably a mistake. It was some sort of lentil mush with weird vegetables. It was much improved with salt. I was sort of in weird missionary land on the flight… there were a lot of people who’d been in Malawi for like a week or two and it was all very Jesusy. No one asked me why I was there, so I didn’t have to reveal that I was with the heathen condom peddlers. There was a lot of dumb hick intermixed with all this as well. The woman behind me was particularly dumb. As we flew toward Jo’burg, she was describing what she saw out the window to someone, and she said she just saw “a bunch of dirt or concrete, I dunno.” Hello, of course it’s dirt! They’re farms! There are big irrigation circles and rows! You live in Hicksville, I know this can’t be unfamiliar territory. There was also a lot of confusion about converting Celsius to Fahrenheit, esp since she thought freezing was 35F. Yikes.
In Jo’burg I totally couldn’t figure out where to go. I finally located the ticket counters, but Delta wasn’t listed on the big list. I wandered around and eventually sighted it in the corner. There was no line, so I guess I was the only person crazy enough to fly Delta home. They called to get my luggage transferred and they gave me a boarding pass through to Atlanta. I got in the big ass security line and went through the completely ineffectual security. The Delta agent told me I couldn’t buy any liquids, so I didn’t get any cheap Amarula, but that turned out to be totally false because I could have put it in my checked luggage once I got to ATL since I had to recheck it anyway. They have it at Wine Source, but it’s twice as much (still delicious, though, and Joey’s new favorite beverage).
Dinner on the flight was tasty; there was only fish left, so I didn’t have to choose, which was good, and they fish was good. The wine was good too. I napped fitfully after dinner to Dakar, and the flight was incredibly bumpy. It was actually a little scary at times. I’m generally cool with turbulence during the day, but I’m not a huge fan at night or in clouds. In Dakar they didn’t rummage through the plane like they had before, so we all prepared for nothing. I wheedled a snack out of the new crew so I could take my malarone under my carefully planned regime to take them every 20 hours instead of every 24 hours until they were timed back to EDT. Something from dinner or from the weeks of crappy food made my stomach feel ooky and gassy; I’m sure the turbulence didn’t help. I slept some more after Dakar and just felt weary.
We finally entered the USA. USA! USA! I’d never been so happy to be an American at home. We landed in Atlanta, and I was one of the last people off the plane, being in the back. I hit the can and then went to the customs line, getting in the slowest one, of course. Finally I got up to the guy, feeling home free. But then the guy typed my number into the computer and picked up the radio. Aw crap. But this is easy, right? They’re just going to ask me why my passport is different from the one I left with and I’ll be on my merry way, right? A man came over and escorted me to a room full of people who were either brown and/or foreigners, which is when I knew I had landed in customs jail. There was a group of Afghani men at the desk dealing with one guy’s complicated visa issues, and there was a woman I think was Spanish who had been wandering in and out of the US for months at a time apparently on travel, with no employment. Must be nice. I sat there for about an hour getting increasingly upset about how the mugging never seems to stop hassling me and how I probably wouldn’t be able to get on the earlier flight I wanted. I was unsuccessfully holding back tears. Finally one of the immigration officers rifled through the orange folders sitting there, and I heard her say, “US Citizen,” so I knew that had to be me. She asked if I had lost my passport, I told her I got mugged, words of condolences all around, stamp stamp and I was out of there. They really need to have a line for people with easy problems. Or just take care of it at the desk. Seriously. It’s not like she did anything extra to verify my tale.
I got my bags, which were easy to find given there were only like five on the now-stopped conveyor. The Delta ticket counter was totally abandoned, leading me to recognize that I probably got lucky by waiting in customs jail because instead of waiting in huge lines I got to sit (and be upset, but still). I managed to get on the early flight for a cool $25 (really, if it were an all-domestic flight it would have been free, because the flight was way empty) charged to the grant. I rechecked my bags (everyone wanted to know what was in the box, the least interesting piece of luggage) and went through security. I called Joey to tell him I was on the earlier flight, and he was super asleep after not really sleeping well all night. He sounded cute and groggy and glad that I was getting in early. He also told me the great news that my car was not impounded, just moved down the street with $82 in tickets. How unbelievable is that? I never would have thought the city would just move my car! I could kiss whoever made that call. Apparently it’s easier to rebuy your car at auction than it is to retrieve from city impound. So I was just really excited to go home.
I had an exit row seat and dutifully read what I needed to do in case of emergency. We got to BWI, and I could hardly breathe walking out of the terminal I was so excited. It was really weird to see Joey at first – he’d just been this disembodied voice for two months – but I quickly adjusted. :) I was really glad to have my trip be over.
At work I sent a couple of emails, taped up the box with my surveys, and said goodbye to folks who were around. I think the secretary was bummed to see me go; she started working there just before I arrived and she’s gotten used to going home together.
I arrived at the airport, for in line, and had no problems with my bags. I was worried that they might be over the weight restrictions, but apparently not. I went through passport control (which had no line, but was very crowded later). I blew my remaining 500 kwacha on a tiny lunch and a bottle of water, but I got to sit in the fancy lounge and read an old newspaper. I used up my 5 free minutes of SkyBand internet and read my sister’s blog. I then beat the crowd through security. They asked me how much kwacha I was leaving the country with, and I was pleased to say none.
I’ve never been so excited to leave a place in my life. I was so giddy I could feel it all the way up in my shoulders. I’ve flown out of worse places – Minneapolis/St. Paul, for example, after we had to sleep there – but that was more a feeling of weariness than actual happiness to leave. I’ve been excited to land places. But this was really about being thrilled to say adios Lilongwe!
As we flew out, I could see Mchenzi, which is where we did a lot of the field work, so that was neat. I also finally got a good look at the statehouse, which is on the edge of the city. Lunch on SAA was okay. I got the vegetarian, which was probably a mistake. It was some sort of lentil mush with weird vegetables. It was much improved with salt. I was sort of in weird missionary land on the flight… there were a lot of people who’d been in Malawi for like a week or two and it was all very Jesusy. No one asked me why I was there, so I didn’t have to reveal that I was with the heathen condom peddlers. There was a lot of dumb hick intermixed with all this as well. The woman behind me was particularly dumb. As we flew toward Jo’burg, she was describing what she saw out the window to someone, and she said she just saw “a bunch of dirt or concrete, I dunno.” Hello, of course it’s dirt! They’re farms! There are big irrigation circles and rows! You live in Hicksville, I know this can’t be unfamiliar territory. There was also a lot of confusion about converting Celsius to Fahrenheit, esp since she thought freezing was 35F. Yikes.
In Jo’burg I totally couldn’t figure out where to go. I finally located the ticket counters, but Delta wasn’t listed on the big list. I wandered around and eventually sighted it in the corner. There was no line, so I guess I was the only person crazy enough to fly Delta home. They called to get my luggage transferred and they gave me a boarding pass through to Atlanta. I got in the big ass security line and went through the completely ineffectual security. The Delta agent told me I couldn’t buy any liquids, so I didn’t get any cheap Amarula, but that turned out to be totally false because I could have put it in my checked luggage once I got to ATL since I had to recheck it anyway. They have it at Wine Source, but it’s twice as much (still delicious, though, and Joey’s new favorite beverage).
Dinner on the flight was tasty; there was only fish left, so I didn’t have to choose, which was good, and they fish was good. The wine was good too. I napped fitfully after dinner to Dakar, and the flight was incredibly bumpy. It was actually a little scary at times. I’m generally cool with turbulence during the day, but I’m not a huge fan at night or in clouds. In Dakar they didn’t rummage through the plane like they had before, so we all prepared for nothing. I wheedled a snack out of the new crew so I could take my malarone under my carefully planned regime to take them every 20 hours instead of every 24 hours until they were timed back to EDT. Something from dinner or from the weeks of crappy food made my stomach feel ooky and gassy; I’m sure the turbulence didn’t help. I slept some more after Dakar and just felt weary.
We finally entered the USA. USA! USA! I’d never been so happy to be an American at home. We landed in Atlanta, and I was one of the last people off the plane, being in the back. I hit the can and then went to the customs line, getting in the slowest one, of course. Finally I got up to the guy, feeling home free. But then the guy typed my number into the computer and picked up the radio. Aw crap. But this is easy, right? They’re just going to ask me why my passport is different from the one I left with and I’ll be on my merry way, right? A man came over and escorted me to a room full of people who were either brown and/or foreigners, which is when I knew I had landed in customs jail. There was a group of Afghani men at the desk dealing with one guy’s complicated visa issues, and there was a woman I think was Spanish who had been wandering in and out of the US for months at a time apparently on travel, with no employment. Must be nice. I sat there for about an hour getting increasingly upset about how the mugging never seems to stop hassling me and how I probably wouldn’t be able to get on the earlier flight I wanted. I was unsuccessfully holding back tears. Finally one of the immigration officers rifled through the orange folders sitting there, and I heard her say, “US Citizen,” so I knew that had to be me. She asked if I had lost my passport, I told her I got mugged, words of condolences all around, stamp stamp and I was out of there. They really need to have a line for people with easy problems. Or just take care of it at the desk. Seriously. It’s not like she did anything extra to verify my tale.
I got my bags, which were easy to find given there were only like five on the now-stopped conveyor. The Delta ticket counter was totally abandoned, leading me to recognize that I probably got lucky by waiting in customs jail because instead of waiting in huge lines I got to sit (and be upset, but still). I managed to get on the early flight for a cool $25 (really, if it were an all-domestic flight it would have been free, because the flight was way empty) charged to the grant. I rechecked my bags (everyone wanted to know what was in the box, the least interesting piece of luggage) and went through security. I called Joey to tell him I was on the earlier flight, and he was super asleep after not really sleeping well all night. He sounded cute and groggy and glad that I was getting in early. He also told me the great news that my car was not impounded, just moved down the street with $82 in tickets. How unbelievable is that? I never would have thought the city would just move my car! I could kiss whoever made that call. Apparently it’s easier to rebuy your car at auction than it is to retrieve from city impound. So I was just really excited to go home.
I had an exit row seat and dutifully read what I needed to do in case of emergency. We got to BWI, and I could hardly breathe walking out of the terminal I was so excited. It was really weird to see Joey at first – he’d just been this disembodied voice for two months – but I quickly adjusted. :) I was really glad to have my trip be over.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Final days
As noted earlier, after a week away I had tons of email when I returned to work Friday. I had the whole day to get through it, so that was good. G took me out to lunch, which was nice of her.
Yesterday I went with Ben and the girls to Dedza Pottery. They’re bored with K out of town, and their plans for a school event were cancelled because the first lady’s funeral was yesterday. So we went down in the afternoon. Dedza is surrounded by wonderful granite mountains, making it vastly more scenic than Lilongwe. The pottery shop has lovely grounds, landscaped with grass, rosebushes and other plants and flowers. The restaurant there opens out onto a large patio with tiled tables featuring scenes from the beach. The food was tasty – I had moussaka and fresh lemonade. But we were too full for the famous cheesecake, sadly.
After lunch we hit the pottery shop, which was loaded with various pots and mugs and such in different styles. It wouldn’t be an easy place to pick up something specific – you can make orders for those – but it’s perfect for someone like me seeking to pick up an assortment of things. And it was crazy cheap. There was only one thing I got that may have been even remotely comparable to a US price and everything else was vastly cheaper. So I took care of gifts for a while and got rid of most of my kwacha. I was pleased too that I could avoid buying any wooden curios because there are already too few trees in Malawi due to overcutting, and the pottery shop has environmentally friendly practices according to their website. So I was pleased with Dedza and everything looks like it will fit securely in my bags.
Today I’m here at the Capital Hotel, uploading these posts before I take off, and getting another haircut so I will be super cute for my return. Tomorrow I’ll go to work briefly to get my box of papers and say goodbye to everyone. Then I go to the airport! I can’t believe this day has arrived!
Uh, it seems my car might be in impound. :( I sure hope I don't have to pay a million dollars to get it out.
Flying home will be more brutal than flying here was. I got to stop after each flight and shower and sleep on the way here, but this is just one plane after another. I also was fortunate not to have a seatmate on the long flight to Jo’burg, but I doubt I’ll be so lucky on the return. I still don’t know when exactly I will arrive in Baltimore; I’m scheduled for a late afternoon flight, but I’m hoping to get on one of the two earlier flights before that. I could be in as early as 12:30, which would be great. But it might be more like 4:30. Boo.
Yesterday I went with Ben and the girls to Dedza Pottery. They’re bored with K out of town, and their plans for a school event were cancelled because the first lady’s funeral was yesterday. So we went down in the afternoon. Dedza is surrounded by wonderful granite mountains, making it vastly more scenic than Lilongwe. The pottery shop has lovely grounds, landscaped with grass, rosebushes and other plants and flowers. The restaurant there opens out onto a large patio with tiled tables featuring scenes from the beach. The food was tasty – I had moussaka and fresh lemonade. But we were too full for the famous cheesecake, sadly.
After lunch we hit the pottery shop, which was loaded with various pots and mugs and such in different styles. It wouldn’t be an easy place to pick up something specific – you can make orders for those – but it’s perfect for someone like me seeking to pick up an assortment of things. And it was crazy cheap. There was only one thing I got that may have been even remotely comparable to a US price and everything else was vastly cheaper. So I took care of gifts for a while and got rid of most of my kwacha. I was pleased too that I could avoid buying any wooden curios because there are already too few trees in Malawi due to overcutting, and the pottery shop has environmentally friendly practices according to their website. So I was pleased with Dedza and everything looks like it will fit securely in my bags.
Today I’m here at the Capital Hotel, uploading these posts before I take off, and getting another haircut so I will be super cute for my return. Tomorrow I’ll go to work briefly to get my box of papers and say goodbye to everyone. Then I go to the airport! I can’t believe this day has arrived!
Uh, it seems my car might be in impound. :( I sure hope I don't have to pay a million dollars to get it out.
Flying home will be more brutal than flying here was. I got to stop after each flight and shower and sleep on the way here, but this is just one plane after another. I also was fortunate not to have a seatmate on the long flight to Jo’burg, but I doubt I’ll be so lucky on the return. I still don’t know when exactly I will arrive in Baltimore; I’m scheduled for a late afternoon flight, but I’m hoping to get on one of the two earlier flights before that. I could be in as early as 12:30, which would be great. But it might be more like 4:30. Boo.
Monday, May 14, 2007
One month to go!
Friday I went home and then got a cab to Foodworth’s, since all I had in my room to eat was one packet of oatmeal, some white raisins, and a chocolate bar. I completely mis-estimated how much money to bring home with me (most of it is locked in a drawer at work), so when I checked out at the store I was like 1900 MK short (almost $14!). I should have figured that since I had no food I would need a lot of money if I wanted to buy everything I desired, but I just didn’t think about it enough. I removed a few items, but the manager didn’t want me to leave with no wine, so he chipped in his own money and told me to pay him back whenever I was next in. It was kind of embarrassing, but I got my wine.
Which I drank while watching Sex in the City, which K had lent me. I didn’t think I would like it, but I actually found it entertaining, even though SJP’s character is super irritating. From what I can tell, Mr. Big is probably an asshole, but she’s such a freak all the time that he comes off as reasonable for not dealing with her crap in this very calm way. But really he’d probably ignore her no matter what. But she has to stop acting like a freak so we can all know for sure.
I also watched this show on BBC Prime called 3 Non-Blondes in which these three black women go around England doing crazy things and secretly recording the reactions of nearby people. It’s really funny. K recommended it last weekend, and I’m glad she did.
Saturday I volunteered to go to this workshop for the household survey, since I’d been to all the rest of the training and R wasn’t here for this one. The good thing is that we went to the office first so I could get more money. The bad thing was that it was totally boring and I had little to contribute. We did find some kinks still in the survey, however.
Sunday, I went to the Capital Hotel in the morning to try to send my mother an email for Mother’s Days, but it was too early for stuff to be open. I went back later and used the internet, got a haircut, and read my magazine while having a couple MGTs (Malawi Gin and tonics), all for under $14. That may be the only thing I miss about this place – how friggin’ cheap things are. The haircut isn’t bad, but I wish the back were shorter.
Today I just felt really depressed and homesick. The village was pretty lively, but once again people ask me for things, and I just feel overwhelmed and irritated. One young man noted that he wasn’t in school because he didn’t have money for the fees. He’s not going to get much support from people in the village given how many primary school-aged kids I saw wandering around today. The girls were shaking their heads at it – primary school is free, so there’s no excuse for that. He was enthusiastic about my Harvard Magazine, so I gave it to him. Gives him something to read in English for practice. I’m destined not to read them anyway, given my last one was stolen. He also noted that he wanted to get an HIV test, but there was no transport to the hospital to get one. This afternoon, I think the women thought I was the lady who normally brings fertilizer. Sadly, none of them had enough schooling to speak English, so none of them could talk to me. The whole place just makes me want to go home and not have to deal with endless problems.
Also, no one lets me do anything here, which makes me feel weak and useless. I hate this place sometimes. I want to go back to where I can do things for myself. I can also tell that people are always laughing at me and making jokes about me… I’m not entertainment, I’m a person, so fuck off. I don’t laugh at people here. I don’t gawk at them. I treat them like people. Is that too much to ask?
Which I drank while watching Sex in the City, which K had lent me. I didn’t think I would like it, but I actually found it entertaining, even though SJP’s character is super irritating. From what I can tell, Mr. Big is probably an asshole, but she’s such a freak all the time that he comes off as reasonable for not dealing with her crap in this very calm way. But really he’d probably ignore her no matter what. But she has to stop acting like a freak so we can all know for sure.
I also watched this show on BBC Prime called 3 Non-Blondes in which these three black women go around England doing crazy things and secretly recording the reactions of nearby people. It’s really funny. K recommended it last weekend, and I’m glad she did.
Saturday I volunteered to go to this workshop for the household survey, since I’d been to all the rest of the training and R wasn’t here for this one. The good thing is that we went to the office first so I could get more money. The bad thing was that it was totally boring and I had little to contribute. We did find some kinks still in the survey, however.
Sunday, I went to the Capital Hotel in the morning to try to send my mother an email for Mother’s Days, but it was too early for stuff to be open. I went back later and used the internet, got a haircut, and read my magazine while having a couple MGTs (Malawi Gin and tonics), all for under $14. That may be the only thing I miss about this place – how friggin’ cheap things are. The haircut isn’t bad, but I wish the back were shorter.
Today I just felt really depressed and homesick. The village was pretty lively, but once again people ask me for things, and I just feel overwhelmed and irritated. One young man noted that he wasn’t in school because he didn’t have money for the fees. He’s not going to get much support from people in the village given how many primary school-aged kids I saw wandering around today. The girls were shaking their heads at it – primary school is free, so there’s no excuse for that. He was enthusiastic about my Harvard Magazine, so I gave it to him. Gives him something to read in English for practice. I’m destined not to read them anyway, given my last one was stolen. He also noted that he wanted to get an HIV test, but there was no transport to the hospital to get one. This afternoon, I think the women thought I was the lady who normally brings fertilizer. Sadly, none of them had enough schooling to speak English, so none of them could talk to me. The whole place just makes me want to go home and not have to deal with endless problems.
Also, no one lets me do anything here, which makes me feel weak and useless. I hate this place sometimes. I want to go back to where I can do things for myself. I can also tell that people are always laughing at me and making jokes about me… I’m not entertainment, I’m a person, so fuck off. I don’t laugh at people here. I don’t gawk at them. I treat them like people. Is that too much to ask?
Monday, May 07, 2007
Adventures
So I didn’t have internet all day Thursday… it really sucked. We were switching ISPs, and I couldn’t get my computer to connect until the very end of the day. Boo. Anyway, I went to bed really early on Wednesday night and slept forever. It was great. So I felt pretty good Thursday. I went to the main branch of the useless police station, where the woman told me to come back at three because the report wasn’t ready or she couldn’t get to it or some bullshit. I had noticed Wednesday at the mini-station that no one really seemed to be doing anything but hanging around. I asked the woman at the main station if the police would bother to look in the area where my bag was probably ditched to see if they could find it, and she was all, no. I guess they don’t do things like patrol the area to keep people from being mugged and/or actually investigate crimes. Then again, I’d probably be better off with a random citizen finding it, because I don’t really trust the police here to actually give me back my stuff if they found it. The constable at the mini-station was just sketchy… he seemed like a would-be criminal who decided being a police officer would give him enough power over others.
At the embassy I gave them my passport photos so they could get my limited passport together for today. I have two photos left which I kind of want to give to Joe, although the smart thing to do would be to hang on to them for when I get a real passport back in the states. My hair looks funny because the guy said I had to have my ears showing, but they’re otherwise rather cute.
We went shopping for office supplies and cookies, which was exciting. Other than that it was mad boring without the internet.
Friday my two new RAs came in, and we all met to talk about the study. Then the three RAs went through the questions with S in charge while I went off to deal with more passport madness. First stop, police station, where this woman basically filled out a really short form and then charged me a few bucks for it. Stupid. Then I went to the embassy, where they made me wait forever. I think all the people in the consular’s office were having a meeting. But eventually I got my freebie limited passport along with a letter telling me what I need to get a real one and some photocopies for me to carry around instead of the passport. Which is what I should have been doing in the first place. On the other hand, if I had to lose something, the passport wasn’t the worst thing by far – it was fairly easy to replace, at least temporarily, and the old one had an ugly photo.
After that we went to Immigration for a visa. But since there are no computer systems in this country, they sent me to the airport where I got the initial visa, because that is where the record is if you fly in. The driver, G, and I were talking about how there’s no way they could possibly know if you’ve overstayed your visa until you’re leaving, at which point why would they care because the whole point of a visa is to limit your stay. At any rate, they re-stamped my passport with the original date, as if we were going back in time to the day I arrived (I even had to fill out the card they give you on the plane), which means I have to go back to Immigration next week when the visa is up to get it extended.
Going to the airport was a little too tempting. :) It made me think about how happy I’ll be when the study is done and I’m headed home.
If my schedule goes to plan, I should be done with my study by June 1 or so, giving me at least a sold week to do some fun things around Malawi. Trouble is, I’m having a hard time wanting to do these things by myself, and after the whole mugging, I’m a little freaked out about doing anything anywhere, frankly. I don’t want to spend loads of money, but I also feel like I should minimize my risks as much as possible, which might mean things like car rental instead of buses to places. I could check out some of these tour operators – this might be the way to go, because they will have packages and maybe even companions. Part of me wants to say fuckit and just go home early, but it seems like a waste to come here and not take advantage of it a bit. I’m pondering a southern route down to Blantyre and then up through Liwonde National Park to Cape Maclear. That way I get other city, national park, lake.
Saturday I went with K to a village called Mabulabo near Mzimba for a 10th anniversary celebration of their HIV/AIDS group there. It took about two hours to get there, thanks to low traffic. The landscape didn’t change a ton, but there were some interesting rocky hills and trees. Once there, K asked someone at the office where we were supposed to go. This person turned out to be the Traditional Authority, who K didn’t recognize because he was new – the old one had died. The TA is like the big super important chief for the whole area, so it was kind of funny that she just was like, hey, we’re lost, help. We were met by a posse of Japanese people! Apparently Japan also has some development and HIV/AIDS projects in the area, so that was cool to meet those guys.
It appeared that although festivities were supposed to start at 9, they were waiting for us to even start getting things prepared. We didn’t arrive until nearly 10. Things didn’t actually get started until like noon, which is just crazy amounts of delay. We had to sit in a classroom the whole time trying to make conversation. Finally the events began. The TA and K (designated the guest of honor, despite the fact that she was hoping just to hang out and have fun) were surrounded by the impi, the traditional zulu warriors. They wore all kinds of crazy hats and animal skins and beads and jingly ankle bells and carried spears and shields. There were also women accompanying in blue dresses and beads. They all sang and the men stomped so the bells all rang. We proceeded to the field and sat under a tent.
It was kind of like Commencement: sitting under a tent, some musical entertainment and other fun intermixed with boring but ceremonial speeches. I noticed that the inside of the tent was decorated with bright blue toilet paper. I guess when you make bright blue toilet paper, you might as well use it for decoration. Ironic, though, that in the bathroom there were only actual pieces of paper instead of teepee. The day was only really fun when the entertaining stuff was happening, because I couldn’t understand any of the speeches. Although the plays were also lost on me, which was sad because it seemed as if they were pretty hilarious. But there was dancing and an acrobat show, so that was cool.
K had to be the one in her speech to note that condoms are useful and part of any good HIV prevention plan, because the frigging district AIDS coordinator basically neglected them in his desire to focus on abstinence only with maybe a dash of be faithful. She said there’s still this whole attitude that there are no real ways to prevent HIV, so you might as well do whatever you want once sex is involved. So annoying.
The drive back took about three hours thanks to a lot of big slow trucks on the road. The M1 is only two lanes, so you have to do a lot of that passing on the other side’s lane. It reminded me of driving around northern NM. With every small town on the road being like driving through Cuba, full of things you don’t really want to stop to visit.
Upon our return I went to K’s house for a Cinco de Mayo barbecue. The power was out when we got there, and B was running around, poor guy. Someone brought tequila, so there were margaritas, which was exciting. The food was good, as always, and there were many fun people there.
I had terrible dreams Saturday night. One involved the characters of Dexter; Doakes totally beat the crap out of Mazuka because he thought he was hitting on some girl he liked, but it was so horribly violent that I was screaming at the television. Yech. I also dreamed that Citizen’s bank charged me $300 for an address change I didn’t notify them about, and they were planning to charge me $300 a week the entire time I would be here. But fortunately in real life they’ve been totally awesome and a woman from there even called me at the office to help me get a new debit card issued and cancel the stolen checks since I couldn’t call them. They definitely win in my book. The rest of my dreams were normal and fine.
News on the TV about things diappearing that makes me feel better about my lost possessions: 1) Kid being abducted in Portugal – losing a camera pales in comparison to having your kid disappear. 2) KA flight disappearing in Cameroon. 3) Town in Kansas getting totally f’d by a tornado. I was wondering why this one was all over the national news on the radio yesterday, but now that I see the TV coverage, I can see why. It’s crazy. The trees don’t even have bark anymore! The whole town is rubble!
Sunday I watched movies because I didn’t have any money and couldn’t go anywhere. I started to watch Romeo + Juliet, but then the power went out halfway through. I watched Gandhi. I planned to watch Logan’s Run, but the power went out again, so I watched Little Miss Sunshine on my laptop instead.
Today we did our pilot test of the study... thank goodness. I'm moving from a pre/post design to a post-test only design, because our grand plans for everyone to fill out little forms full of numbers as we read questions for the post-test totally doesn't work here. Everyone is just confused, and then they confer with all their neighbors about what to do, meaning that none of their responses are private. For the pre-test we were doing one-on-one interviews, but the post-test is the actual important part, so we need to do one-on-one interviews for that and just forget a pretest. Anyway, we did that in the afternoon and it seemed to go well.
At the embassy I gave them my passport photos so they could get my limited passport together for today. I have two photos left which I kind of want to give to Joe, although the smart thing to do would be to hang on to them for when I get a real passport back in the states. My hair looks funny because the guy said I had to have my ears showing, but they’re otherwise rather cute.
We went shopping for office supplies and cookies, which was exciting. Other than that it was mad boring without the internet.
Friday my two new RAs came in, and we all met to talk about the study. Then the three RAs went through the questions with S in charge while I went off to deal with more passport madness. First stop, police station, where this woman basically filled out a really short form and then charged me a few bucks for it. Stupid. Then I went to the embassy, where they made me wait forever. I think all the people in the consular’s office were having a meeting. But eventually I got my freebie limited passport along with a letter telling me what I need to get a real one and some photocopies for me to carry around instead of the passport. Which is what I should have been doing in the first place. On the other hand, if I had to lose something, the passport wasn’t the worst thing by far – it was fairly easy to replace, at least temporarily, and the old one had an ugly photo.
After that we went to Immigration for a visa. But since there are no computer systems in this country, they sent me to the airport where I got the initial visa, because that is where the record is if you fly in. The driver, G, and I were talking about how there’s no way they could possibly know if you’ve overstayed your visa until you’re leaving, at which point why would they care because the whole point of a visa is to limit your stay. At any rate, they re-stamped my passport with the original date, as if we were going back in time to the day I arrived (I even had to fill out the card they give you on the plane), which means I have to go back to Immigration next week when the visa is up to get it extended.
Going to the airport was a little too tempting. :) It made me think about how happy I’ll be when the study is done and I’m headed home.
If my schedule goes to plan, I should be done with my study by June 1 or so, giving me at least a sold week to do some fun things around Malawi. Trouble is, I’m having a hard time wanting to do these things by myself, and after the whole mugging, I’m a little freaked out about doing anything anywhere, frankly. I don’t want to spend loads of money, but I also feel like I should minimize my risks as much as possible, which might mean things like car rental instead of buses to places. I could check out some of these tour operators – this might be the way to go, because they will have packages and maybe even companions. Part of me wants to say fuckit and just go home early, but it seems like a waste to come here and not take advantage of it a bit. I’m pondering a southern route down to Blantyre and then up through Liwonde National Park to Cape Maclear. That way I get other city, national park, lake.
Saturday I went with K to a village called Mabulabo near Mzimba for a 10th anniversary celebration of their HIV/AIDS group there. It took about two hours to get there, thanks to low traffic. The landscape didn’t change a ton, but there were some interesting rocky hills and trees. Once there, K asked someone at the office where we were supposed to go. This person turned out to be the Traditional Authority, who K didn’t recognize because he was new – the old one had died. The TA is like the big super important chief for the whole area, so it was kind of funny that she just was like, hey, we’re lost, help. We were met by a posse of Japanese people! Apparently Japan also has some development and HIV/AIDS projects in the area, so that was cool to meet those guys.
It appeared that although festivities were supposed to start at 9, they were waiting for us to even start getting things prepared. We didn’t arrive until nearly 10. Things didn’t actually get started until like noon, which is just crazy amounts of delay. We had to sit in a classroom the whole time trying to make conversation. Finally the events began. The TA and K (designated the guest of honor, despite the fact that she was hoping just to hang out and have fun) were surrounded by the impi, the traditional zulu warriors. They wore all kinds of crazy hats and animal skins and beads and jingly ankle bells and carried spears and shields. There were also women accompanying in blue dresses and beads. They all sang and the men stomped so the bells all rang. We proceeded to the field and sat under a tent.
It was kind of like Commencement: sitting under a tent, some musical entertainment and other fun intermixed with boring but ceremonial speeches. I noticed that the inside of the tent was decorated with bright blue toilet paper. I guess when you make bright blue toilet paper, you might as well use it for decoration. Ironic, though, that in the bathroom there were only actual pieces of paper instead of teepee. The day was only really fun when the entertaining stuff was happening, because I couldn’t understand any of the speeches. Although the plays were also lost on me, which was sad because it seemed as if they were pretty hilarious. But there was dancing and an acrobat show, so that was cool.
K had to be the one in her speech to note that condoms are useful and part of any good HIV prevention plan, because the frigging district AIDS coordinator basically neglected them in his desire to focus on abstinence only with maybe a dash of be faithful. She said there’s still this whole attitude that there are no real ways to prevent HIV, so you might as well do whatever you want once sex is involved. So annoying.
The drive back took about three hours thanks to a lot of big slow trucks on the road. The M1 is only two lanes, so you have to do a lot of that passing on the other side’s lane. It reminded me of driving around northern NM. With every small town on the road being like driving through Cuba, full of things you don’t really want to stop to visit.
Upon our return I went to K’s house for a Cinco de Mayo barbecue. The power was out when we got there, and B was running around, poor guy. Someone brought tequila, so there were margaritas, which was exciting. The food was good, as always, and there were many fun people there.
I had terrible dreams Saturday night. One involved the characters of Dexter; Doakes totally beat the crap out of Mazuka because he thought he was hitting on some girl he liked, but it was so horribly violent that I was screaming at the television. Yech. I also dreamed that Citizen’s bank charged me $300 for an address change I didn’t notify them about, and they were planning to charge me $300 a week the entire time I would be here. But fortunately in real life they’ve been totally awesome and a woman from there even called me at the office to help me get a new debit card issued and cancel the stolen checks since I couldn’t call them. They definitely win in my book. The rest of my dreams were normal and fine.
News on the TV about things diappearing that makes me feel better about my lost possessions: 1) Kid being abducted in Portugal – losing a camera pales in comparison to having your kid disappear. 2) KA flight disappearing in Cameroon. 3) Town in Kansas getting totally f’d by a tornado. I was wondering why this one was all over the national news on the radio yesterday, but now that I see the TV coverage, I can see why. It’s crazy. The trees don’t even have bark anymore! The whole town is rubble!
Sunday I watched movies because I didn’t have any money and couldn’t go anywhere. I started to watch Romeo + Juliet, but then the power went out halfway through. I watched Gandhi. I planned to watch Logan’s Run, but the power went out again, so I watched Little Miss Sunshine on my laptop instead.
Today we did our pilot test of the study... thank goodness. I'm moving from a pre/post design to a post-test only design, because our grand plans for everyone to fill out little forms full of numbers as we read questions for the post-test totally doesn't work here. Everyone is just confused, and then they confer with all their neighbors about what to do, meaning that none of their responses are private. For the pre-test we were doing one-on-one interviews, but the post-test is the actual important part, so we need to do one-on-one interviews for that and just forget a pretest. Anyway, we did that in the afternoon and it seemed to go well.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Adventures in bureaucracy
I went to the embassy and filled out some forms. But before I can get a passport, I need photos. Also, the police report of the theft so they can verify it was stolen. Also, I'm supposed to pay: at first it looked like almost $100, but they waived some fee to make it $67, but then when I mentioned that I'm low on cash given the robbery, they said they could do a freebie limited passport and I could get a real one when I return to the states. I'll probably just do the freebie, unless I decide to dip into my currently limited (but sufficient) funds.
So, we went to the police station to get a copy of the report. But what they have isn't considered the official report, just the statement that has to be filed with the main office so an official stamped report can be issued. We drove the constable over to the main branch, and there they told us that tomorrow they'd have it ready. So then we went to get the passport photo, which I took and will return to get when I go back to old town to pick up supplies for at least the meeting tomorrow. I had been planning to buy all the supplies, but now I don't know. I'm so tired, I could just fall asleep.
So, we went to the police station to get a copy of the report. But what they have isn't considered the official report, just the statement that has to be filed with the main office so an official stamped report can be issued. We drove the constable over to the main branch, and there they told us that tomorrow they'd have it ready. So then we went to get the passport photo, which I took and will return to get when I go back to old town to pick up supplies for at least the meeting tomorrow. I had been planning to buy all the supplies, but now I don't know. I'm so tired, I could just fall asleep.
Mugged
So, yesterday for the holiday the plan was to get a haircut, maybe grab some wine at Foodworth’s, maybe have some lunch at Cloud’s, and hit the forex to stock up on cash before heading home. I thought about bringing my laptop along for the trip, since Cloud’s allegedly has a wifi hotspot, but I decided it was too heavy.
Thank goodness.
Right behind the friggin buildings with the hair salon and Foodworth’s, some guy jacked my purse. I was coming off a dirt road onto the street, and he was coming up the street. I was in front of him, and he just grabbed the bag from behind. I had a good grip on it and made a strong showing in tug of war, but he had a knife, so he wins. (As Am joked, if you were packing heat you’d be the winner!). He actually got me in the arm a tiny bit with the blade (the size of a big paper cut), and a have a belly bruise where he grazed me as a threat to get me to back off. Once he took off, I ran after him hollering; he made like he was coming back at me to get me to knock off, but people started coming out and he ran away. He actually dropped the knife at one point as he ran, and I thought maybe he was going to ditch the weapon, but he picked it up as he ran away. Or maybe he thought I’d grab it and come after him (not unlikely, I was pretty determined to do what I could to get my stuff back). A really impressive number of guys from the surrounding buildings took off after the guy in response to my shouts, but apparently he disappeared into the bushes. Damn bushes. The number of people responding certainly made me feel more assured that this was a really crazy broad daylight semi-busy area to mug someone. It’s just too bad no one caught him.
A man directed me to the police station, but I was intercepted by a café owner whose men were working on the wall and had been some of those giving chase. He got me some water and a cappuccino (just the thing for frazzled nerves!), and a woman from the embassy, EP, was there having lunch with her daughter. She called up the embassy and had a colleague come over with some paperwork for the passport (of which I have a photocopy, so new one will be easier to obtain), and then we went to the police station to file a report.
Filing the police report was actually sort of hilarious. The “station” was basically a tiny room with some chairs and a desk. The constable clearly took his role very seriously, and kept tapping his papers on the desk to line them up in a very official way. His papers consisted of blank paper on which he wrote my statement. When he saw the cut on my arm, he declared that I had to go to the hospital so that a medical report could be included. EP insisted that this was not going to happen and that someone at the embassy clinic would look at it Wednesday. So he had one of the other officers write up a sheet for the doctor, which reads, “The above named person has been unlawfully wounded by unknown criminals. Therefore I refer her to your good office for both treatment and examination. Thereafter furnish us with your findings.” Hilarious. I have to wonder what kind of kinky shit they’re allowing for in the “lawfully wounded” section.
After the police station, we headed to the embassy. EP’s daughter got a nosebleed, so we were in an extra hurry. Of course, once we got to the gate the incompetent security guards were in no such hurry to let us in, and wanted my paperwork. EP explained that I’d just been robbed and didn’t have a passport and that her daughter was bleeding and could he please just let us in. Then he said he’d have to ask his supervisor, but the supervisor was off under a tree somewhere and there was no reception officer in the little office, and EP totally flipped out on the guys until they let us in. Once we got in she was all, “Fucking morons!” It was so refreshing to hear someone yell and curse after three weeks in this passive aggressive country. Once inside we called K, who I figured would be at the office and she was, and she came to get me.
At the office I made various phone calls and checked my email and generally tried to take care of some basic details. On the whole, I lost: 1) My wallet with all my credit and ATM cards along with my drivers license and about $100 in kwachas and USD combined. Although the guy will have to dig for the USD, so if I happed to get the wallet back it might still be there. AND also my awesome photos from G that I’ve transferred to new wallets for ages. 2) My passport, which will be easily replaced. 3) My checkbook, which sucks for now because I can’t use the money bureau, but I can exchange US cash that K has locked away at her house plus the office can front me some funds for the research stuff. I also have some kwacha locked up at work from my money runs this week. Joe is going to retrieve the next book from my house and put it in the Friday DHL package from the Baltimore office, so I’ll be back in business soon enough. 4) The cell phone Kirsten was lending me, meaning no calls from Joe or anyone else at home until I find a replacement. 5) My camera, which at least didn’t have any photos on it, but it sucks a lot that it’s gone and I can’t upload any more photos while I’m here… I might be able to find some disposables to at least take some photos. 6) Last, but absolutely the worst, my glasses, since I was wearing my sunglasses and therefore had my glasses in my purse. Joe can send my backup pair from home, and there are apparently some Germans here who can make some more if I need. But, I haven’t even paid for those glasses yet! (Some crazy 6 month interest free card thing).
So, none of this is the end of the world, unlike if my laptop had been stolen. Although he probably wouldn’t have gotten away so fast because that bag is mega heavy. I also have been making sure to keep my hotel key in my pocket should something like this happen. Thank goodness also that I hadn’t decided to visit the money bureau first. And, of course, that nothing really bad happened to me. It just fucking sucks.
After the office, K took me to get some late lunch/early dinner at Mama Mia’s. I had penne with a really hot tomato sauce, which made me feel better. Then we went to her house and she checked the cut on my arm, peroxided and antiseptic creamed it (I got a black cat band-aid… yay kids’ band-aids!), and then gave me some bubble bath and movies to take home.
I felt a lot better after a few hours than right after it happened. If someone had offered me a plane ticket home and a ride to the airport right after it happened, I’d be on my way home right now. I was already feeling homesick, and this was just not what I needed. But, after a few hours I was feeling like I had a handle on replacing the stuff I really need to replace and managing without the rest. I’m leery of the travel to and from work with my laptop bag now, but those times of day are also much busier. Unfortunately, I think I was more vulnerable today because of the holiday making the streets a bit emptier than they normally would be; all the expats I talked to today were pretty surprised about where and when it happened. It’s also just completely unlucky that I’ve lived in a totally dangerous city for nearly three years with no incident (never mind Boston also), and I happen to get robbed here. Sadly, I think I know why expats don’t walk around the city, because white folks are really much more of target.
So, I probably won’t be doing much wandering on the weekends anymore, and will probably make use of a taxi or minibus if I’m feeling restless. I think I can learn to appreciate the simple pleasures of lounging around my room with magazines and books and movies.
Once I got home I wrote a few of these notes, which I think was helpful. I took a hot bath with some grapefruit scent in it. It made the bath kind of look like bright pee, but it smelled a lot better and was nice. Then I broke out iTunes and listened to lots of music that made me feel better in ways both cheerful and aggressive, such as that song from the Office Space soundtrack when they’re smashing the printer. I love that song. Anyway, I realized one thing I can do to occupy myself is to make playlists, since I have virtually none, and they’re necessary for road trip iPodding.
K’s husband said that it was important to compartmentalize the experience, not to deny it happened, but to not really let it into my life. He’s really right, in a way. It was just like a bad dream, and though it was scary and freaks me out, it’s not more affecting to my life than most other things. It’s mostly a hassle, but I’m no more or less safe because of it. It feels more personal due to the level of assault involved, but the robber had no interest in hurting me, just taking my stuff and threatening me enough to be successful at it.
It’s really a shame also that there are people like this who damage the reputation of places like this one, where the vast majority of people are dirt poor and yet strongly frown on this sort of behavior and do what they can to stop it when given the chance.
All right, off to wade through a few more emails and head off to the embassy.
Thank goodness.
Right behind the friggin buildings with the hair salon and Foodworth’s, some guy jacked my purse. I was coming off a dirt road onto the street, and he was coming up the street. I was in front of him, and he just grabbed the bag from behind. I had a good grip on it and made a strong showing in tug of war, but he had a knife, so he wins. (As Am joked, if you were packing heat you’d be the winner!). He actually got me in the arm a tiny bit with the blade (the size of a big paper cut), and a have a belly bruise where he grazed me as a threat to get me to back off. Once he took off, I ran after him hollering; he made like he was coming back at me to get me to knock off, but people started coming out and he ran away. He actually dropped the knife at one point as he ran, and I thought maybe he was going to ditch the weapon, but he picked it up as he ran away. Or maybe he thought I’d grab it and come after him (not unlikely, I was pretty determined to do what I could to get my stuff back). A really impressive number of guys from the surrounding buildings took off after the guy in response to my shouts, but apparently he disappeared into the bushes. Damn bushes. The number of people responding certainly made me feel more assured that this was a really crazy broad daylight semi-busy area to mug someone. It’s just too bad no one caught him.
A man directed me to the police station, but I was intercepted by a café owner whose men were working on the wall and had been some of those giving chase. He got me some water and a cappuccino (just the thing for frazzled nerves!), and a woman from the embassy, EP, was there having lunch with her daughter. She called up the embassy and had a colleague come over with some paperwork for the passport (of which I have a photocopy, so new one will be easier to obtain), and then we went to the police station to file a report.
Filing the police report was actually sort of hilarious. The “station” was basically a tiny room with some chairs and a desk. The constable clearly took his role very seriously, and kept tapping his papers on the desk to line them up in a very official way. His papers consisted of blank paper on which he wrote my statement. When he saw the cut on my arm, he declared that I had to go to the hospital so that a medical report could be included. EP insisted that this was not going to happen and that someone at the embassy clinic would look at it Wednesday. So he had one of the other officers write up a sheet for the doctor, which reads, “The above named person has been unlawfully wounded by unknown criminals. Therefore I refer her to your good office for both treatment and examination. Thereafter furnish us with your findings.” Hilarious. I have to wonder what kind of kinky shit they’re allowing for in the “lawfully wounded” section.
After the police station, we headed to the embassy. EP’s daughter got a nosebleed, so we were in an extra hurry. Of course, once we got to the gate the incompetent security guards were in no such hurry to let us in, and wanted my paperwork. EP explained that I’d just been robbed and didn’t have a passport and that her daughter was bleeding and could he please just let us in. Then he said he’d have to ask his supervisor, but the supervisor was off under a tree somewhere and there was no reception officer in the little office, and EP totally flipped out on the guys until they let us in. Once we got in she was all, “Fucking morons!” It was so refreshing to hear someone yell and curse after three weeks in this passive aggressive country. Once inside we called K, who I figured would be at the office and she was, and she came to get me.
At the office I made various phone calls and checked my email and generally tried to take care of some basic details. On the whole, I lost: 1) My wallet with all my credit and ATM cards along with my drivers license and about $100 in kwachas and USD combined. Although the guy will have to dig for the USD, so if I happed to get the wallet back it might still be there. AND also my awesome photos from G that I’ve transferred to new wallets for ages. 2) My passport, which will be easily replaced. 3) My checkbook, which sucks for now because I can’t use the money bureau, but I can exchange US cash that K has locked away at her house plus the office can front me some funds for the research stuff. I also have some kwacha locked up at work from my money runs this week. Joe is going to retrieve the next book from my house and put it in the Friday DHL package from the Baltimore office, so I’ll be back in business soon enough. 4) The cell phone Kirsten was lending me, meaning no calls from Joe or anyone else at home until I find a replacement. 5) My camera, which at least didn’t have any photos on it, but it sucks a lot that it’s gone and I can’t upload any more photos while I’m here… I might be able to find some disposables to at least take some photos. 6) Last, but absolutely the worst, my glasses, since I was wearing my sunglasses and therefore had my glasses in my purse. Joe can send my backup pair from home, and there are apparently some Germans here who can make some more if I need. But, I haven’t even paid for those glasses yet! (Some crazy 6 month interest free card thing).
So, none of this is the end of the world, unlike if my laptop had been stolen. Although he probably wouldn’t have gotten away so fast because that bag is mega heavy. I also have been making sure to keep my hotel key in my pocket should something like this happen. Thank goodness also that I hadn’t decided to visit the money bureau first. And, of course, that nothing really bad happened to me. It just fucking sucks.
After the office, K took me to get some late lunch/early dinner at Mama Mia’s. I had penne with a really hot tomato sauce, which made me feel better. Then we went to her house and she checked the cut on my arm, peroxided and antiseptic creamed it (I got a black cat band-aid… yay kids’ band-aids!), and then gave me some bubble bath and movies to take home.
I felt a lot better after a few hours than right after it happened. If someone had offered me a plane ticket home and a ride to the airport right after it happened, I’d be on my way home right now. I was already feeling homesick, and this was just not what I needed. But, after a few hours I was feeling like I had a handle on replacing the stuff I really need to replace and managing without the rest. I’m leery of the travel to and from work with my laptop bag now, but those times of day are also much busier. Unfortunately, I think I was more vulnerable today because of the holiday making the streets a bit emptier than they normally would be; all the expats I talked to today were pretty surprised about where and when it happened. It’s also just completely unlucky that I’ve lived in a totally dangerous city for nearly three years with no incident (never mind Boston also), and I happen to get robbed here. Sadly, I think I know why expats don’t walk around the city, because white folks are really much more of target.
So, I probably won’t be doing much wandering on the weekends anymore, and will probably make use of a taxi or minibus if I’m feeling restless. I think I can learn to appreciate the simple pleasures of lounging around my room with magazines and books and movies.
Once I got home I wrote a few of these notes, which I think was helpful. I took a hot bath with some grapefruit scent in it. It made the bath kind of look like bright pee, but it smelled a lot better and was nice. Then I broke out iTunes and listened to lots of music that made me feel better in ways both cheerful and aggressive, such as that song from the Office Space soundtrack when they’re smashing the printer. I love that song. Anyway, I realized one thing I can do to occupy myself is to make playlists, since I have virtually none, and they’re necessary for road trip iPodding.
K’s husband said that it was important to compartmentalize the experience, not to deny it happened, but to not really let it into my life. He’s really right, in a way. It was just like a bad dream, and though it was scary and freaks me out, it’s not more affecting to my life than most other things. It’s mostly a hassle, but I’m no more or less safe because of it. It feels more personal due to the level of assault involved, but the robber had no interest in hurting me, just taking my stuff and threatening me enough to be successful at it.
It’s really a shame also that there are people like this who damage the reputation of places like this one, where the vast majority of people are dirt poor and yet strongly frown on this sort of behavior and do what they can to stop it when given the chance.
All right, off to wade through a few more emails and head off to the embassy.
Friday, April 27, 2007
TGIF
Apparently some girls drowned in the river, and that’s why there were a lot of people at the bridge the other day. I don’t know if there were rescue teams that attracted attention or what.
Wednesday night, I bummed around and decided to make a giant pot of tea. I made it in the French press, which meant that it just steeped and steeped. I think between the caffeine and the acidity, my stomach was ruined. I slept like crap the whole night and dreamed about work. Bleh. I woke up the next day with my stomach still miserable, so I skimped on breakfast (no greasy sausage or potatoes for me) and lurched out for the four CBO meetings I had to deal with. They all went pretty well, and only one involved singing and dancing, and that was because they were actually anticipating that CARE would be there a bit later with cameras to film them. Clarifying this did not keep them from doing their whole spiel for us, however.
So I lived through the meetings, still really friggin’ glad to have S around to help explain things in more detail to people. Afterwards, we dropped S off at her house and I had G drop me off at mine. I took a 2-hour nap and felt better enough to venture to People’s. Actually, I tried first to go to the Money Bureau so I could pay S today, but it closes at 4. And opens at 8:30, meaning I can never go before or after work. People’s such a useless supermarket. The only really useful thing I bought was bread. This is why I need a car to go somewhere else; if I had felt better I could have minibused, but that just wasn’t going to happen.
I watched TV and saw the intro to a really old cartoon called The Raccoons that I had completely forgotten about. I watched a thing on Jack Osbourne trying to get in shape to climb a mountain. Joey called later and we went through my mail and talked about some delicious lasagna he might make me when I get back. I really can’t wait to get back home. Yesterday, between the not feeling well and the closed money bureau and the useless supermarket and the irritating people who always bother me at City Centre, I just really hated Malawi. But that happens away from home.
Today we had the last three CBO meetings, none of which involved singing and dancing. Then I tried to go to the money bureau in old town, but it was closed. Being Friday (and probably also because it was the end of the month), all the banks had huge lines. I got in a giant line for the NB ATMs, which only let me take out a portion of what I really wanted… basically I had to pay S for 4 days instead of 5, promising the rest on Monday. To be fair, she was only here like an hour on Monday, and only part time every day, but whatever. She saves my ass. Anyway, I wish I had checks and a credit card that would be useful in Malawi.
Back at work, I discovered that there is a source of delicious beverages for MK40 in the microprojects office down the hall. I got a Cherry Plum SoBo, which is sooooo delicious. Malawians love their soda beverages.
I pondered going to Cloud tonight, now that Joe and I talked about Italian food, but maybe I’ll go to the mall tomorrow and hit Mama Mia’s instead. I just hate having to take a taxi home from so close to my house, but I probably shouldn’t walk either. So I’ll probably just bum around. Tomorrow I’m going to a concert thing with the boss’s fam, which should be fun.
Wednesday night, I bummed around and decided to make a giant pot of tea. I made it in the French press, which meant that it just steeped and steeped. I think between the caffeine and the acidity, my stomach was ruined. I slept like crap the whole night and dreamed about work. Bleh. I woke up the next day with my stomach still miserable, so I skimped on breakfast (no greasy sausage or potatoes for me) and lurched out for the four CBO meetings I had to deal with. They all went pretty well, and only one involved singing and dancing, and that was because they were actually anticipating that CARE would be there a bit later with cameras to film them. Clarifying this did not keep them from doing their whole spiel for us, however.
So I lived through the meetings, still really friggin’ glad to have S around to help explain things in more detail to people. Afterwards, we dropped S off at her house and I had G drop me off at mine. I took a 2-hour nap and felt better enough to venture to People’s. Actually, I tried first to go to the Money Bureau so I could pay S today, but it closes at 4. And opens at 8:30, meaning I can never go before or after work. People’s such a useless supermarket. The only really useful thing I bought was bread. This is why I need a car to go somewhere else; if I had felt better I could have minibused, but that just wasn’t going to happen.
I watched TV and saw the intro to a really old cartoon called The Raccoons that I had completely forgotten about. I watched a thing on Jack Osbourne trying to get in shape to climb a mountain. Joey called later and we went through my mail and talked about some delicious lasagna he might make me when I get back. I really can’t wait to get back home. Yesterday, between the not feeling well and the closed money bureau and the useless supermarket and the irritating people who always bother me at City Centre, I just really hated Malawi. But that happens away from home.
Today we had the last three CBO meetings, none of which involved singing and dancing. Then I tried to go to the money bureau in old town, but it was closed. Being Friday (and probably also because it was the end of the month), all the banks had huge lines. I got in a giant line for the NB ATMs, which only let me take out a portion of what I really wanted… basically I had to pay S for 4 days instead of 5, promising the rest on Monday. To be fair, she was only here like an hour on Monday, and only part time every day, but whatever. She saves my ass. Anyway, I wish I had checks and a credit card that would be useful in Malawi.
Back at work, I discovered that there is a source of delicious beverages for MK40 in the microprojects office down the hall. I got a Cherry Plum SoBo, which is sooooo delicious. Malawians love their soda beverages.
I pondered going to Cloud tonight, now that Joe and I talked about Italian food, but maybe I’ll go to the mall tomorrow and hit Mama Mia’s instead. I just hate having to take a taxi home from so close to my house, but I probably shouldn’t walk either. So I’ll probably just bum around. Tomorrow I’m going to a concert thing with the boss’s fam, which should be fun.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I hate phones
I hate making phone calls to people I don't know sooooo much. I have a hard enough time communicating in any oral way, and the phone just makes it a million times worse. I'm trying to call people from all these groups that BRIDGE has worked with before so that I can meet with them later this week and see if they can help me with my study. After 2 calls I'm drained and I need to talk to like 7 more. Gah! I was originally going to pawn this off on a woman here who has worked with all these people before, but she's at a workshop today and tomorrow. Damn workshops.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)