What My Nonna and C-3PO Had in Common

17 May 2011

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A very classy class.

On Saturday, M and I had the pleasure of taking a protocol class. This was an optional class, not a formal part of my training, and something, I should add, that M signed us up for. Yes, the same M who believes that finger foods are the best kind of foods and meals taste most flavorful when consumed in close proximity to the keyboard.

The course covered both protocol and etiquette – that is, the rules of diplomatic rank and the niceties of diplomatic society. Of course, because I am a nerd, I kept thinking of C-3PO the protocol droid (that’s Star Wars to you non-nerds). And because I am a sentimentalist, I entertained a few fond memories of my Nonna. My Nonna had the most complete set of formal dinnerware of anyone I have every known (or probably will know), and I still remember her serving me tea from a silver tea set and showing me a series of tiny forks – some for desserts, and some for pickles. I’ll repeat that. A whole fork just for pickles! This was a lot of excitement for an eight-year-old.

Intimidating.

So here, for your amusement are a few “Etiquette-Related Things That We Learned” -

1.) Do not mix the Continental and American styles of eating utensil etiquette!

2.) If your host is eating Continental style, eat Continental style. If they are eating American style, eat American style. But only do this if you can execute both flawlessly.* (Our teacher’s words.)

3.) There exists a special knife for eating fish. This was news to me.

4.) My mother’s childhood rhyme about eating soup: “When the ship goes out to sea/It sails away from me” turns out to be correct.

5.) Except in some parts of China where you can slurp your soup and noodles. (M agrees with this philosophy.)

6.) Bet you thought that little wooden cup  in the picture above was for eating soft-boiled eggs. Nope, nice try! We learned that it a special cup just for eating kiwis.

7.) Americans and Europeans have different sized dinner napkins.

8.) Ladies enter their chair to their left and exit to their right.

9.) For toasting, the host first toasts the guest of honor. Then everyone drinks except for the guest of honor. Then the guest of honor toasts the host. Then everyone drinks but the host. This is an easy rule to remember. If you aren’t so important that you are receiving/giving a toast – drink!

10) At some point, you may have to eat boiled eyeball at a formal dinner. Eat the eyeball.  (True story from our etiquette instructor. She ate it. No word on if she used the Continental or American style.)

*M did demonstrate a flawless Continental eating style in front of the class.

Flag Day

30 April 2011

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M is going to eat so much coconut.

Flag Day is a long-standing tradition in the foreign service, where entry-level officers receive the flags of their first posting.

In front of everyone. In random order.

You can see how this combines three of my most deadly fears of 1) crowds, 2) ceremony, and  3) surprise. Three things I’m going to definitely need to adjust to with my new profession.

I was the third-to-last person out of our class of 89,  and by that point, I only knew that most of my high bids had been carried away by excited classmates and I had no idea what was left. Absolutely no idea. You see, M and I had rather a “shotgun” approach to the bidding process, choosing to bid high on places all over the world. M and I had made high bids on posts that either fit my background or would give me a new language (I’ll get to you someday, French and Russian!), then we added some extra highs that just fit “really cool places we wouldn’t mind living.” All of the first group were gone, but there was one last little country that fit the “really cool places” category.

So with my usual I’m-in-front-of-crowd-tomato-red-face I received the flag of Honduras. We leave in October after six more months of training, and then the real adventure begins!

Early Days in D.C. and A Dog Will Lower Your I.Q.

2 April 2011

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A exploring D.C.

We did end up making it here (to D.C.) last week, safe and sound. Amazingly, A survived the trip which is something that he’s going to probably have to do on a regular basis as we travel more frequently. Below, you can see some photo proof of that survival, as he and I wait in the rental car parking lot. The strange thing about traveling with a dog is that it seems to not only lower your own I.Q., (seriously, I have never worried about another living thing’s digestive system so much) but the I.Q. of everyone around you. Strangers will squeal nonsense at your dog, and especially strange strangers (read: jerks) will stomp their feet and yell “Boo!” at your dog. Children who should know better than to approach a unfamiliar creature with sharp teeth will yell “Doggy” and fling themselves in your general direction. There is just something about a fuzzy animal that makes everyone a little dumber.

Those stickers do say "Live Animals." The airport guy kept laughing at this and checking to see if the dog was in fact, alive. Ha, ha, buddy.

In non-dog centered news, I’ve spent the last week in my first week of training for my new job. It was…interesting. As Diplomatic Security has managed to scare the stuffing out of me, that’s all you’ll get.  It goes on for another five weeks, and will probably continue to be interesting, and I will continue to be properly intimidated.

Today we managed to walk around some of the sites of D.C. right before we got hailed on. This made A very unhappy – he’s a California native who doesn’t understand that we live in a cold, cruel world where chunks of ice fall from the sky. Hopefully, as the weather improves, we’ll make it out again. I know that we’ll soon be venturing out soon to go to the Air and Space Museum, and make one giant nerd (if you guessed M, you guessed correctly) happy.

Hail?!?

Washington Monument pre hailstorm.

He's a lot higher on the org chart than me.

In a hilarious (to us) postscript, who should we see when heading towards downtown than our old friend, Simon Bolivar. That’s right, El Libertador had followed us. All we need to see is the “November 3″ bus (all the streets, roads, and bus companies were named after Ecuadorian revolutionary dates) and we’d feel right at home.

We can't escape.

Tumblr

2 April 2011

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A sample from Tumblr of what you're missing.

This is just a friendly reminder about our Tumblr for friends and family who follow the blog and wonder “why isn’t she blogging as often?” I will, I promise, but as much of what I’m learning now is job-related, and therefore uninteresting to both you, the reader, and me, the writer (I’m joking! Really!).  So keep in mind that  you can always head over to our Tumblr to see photos of what we’re up to and a ridiculous number of pictures of A being ridiculously cute.

And, yes, all the pictures on the Tumblr are shot using the Hipstamatic. And yes, my little brother informed me that the Hipstamatic is so 2009/2010. Being only about one year off in coolness is pretty good for me, so I’m still gonna use it.

Looks Like New Travels on the Horizon

25 February 2011

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Our third traveler.

Wanted to write a quick update to say a few things. First, we’ve gotten ourselves a third traveler! Our dog, henceforth known to the internet as “A” (gotta keep this Russian novel style initial-thing going) is a year and a half old poodle mix. Between the hours of 6:30 and 7:00 am, he’s probably my least favorite creature in existence, but the rest of the day he’s pretty great. Second, I started a Tumblr, and registered a Twitter, the former, because it is a good way to do picture updates without all this annoying text business, and the latter because I figured it was about time. Although I have yet to post anything, but that’s another problem.

Third, and most importantly, I’ve recently accepted a job that will involve a lot more travel. I don’t plan to write much about the job on here, suffice to say that I will be employed by the State Department in the United States Foreign Service, and can pretty much go anywhere and everywhere. I know, I know, fancy!

I’m relocating to Washington, D.C. (with M and A of course) at the end of March to begin training, and will start updating the blog regularly then.  And yes, I’m pretty damn excited.

The End (For Now)

3 February 2011

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Where we ended up. Pacifica, CA.

I realized yesterday after getting a nice comment from my uncle (Hi Tio Geraldo!) that I’ve been putting off writing this post, in the way that I used to put off writing book reports back in grade school.

It wasn’t because I didn’t have anything to say, or that I didn’t want to sit down at the computer to type it all out for the amusement of friends and family – it was, because simply, I didn’t want our travels, or this blog, to be over.

So I’ve decided not to stop. Of course, we don’t go on international excursions every day, but I’m going to keep this blog online, and hopefully update it the next time an international excursion occurs. We’re hoping to do a trip to Asia sometime this year: we’ve been to Vietnam/Cambodia/China, but would love to visit Japan and Korea should finances allow.

But back to this particular trip on this particular blog. I’ve really, really enjoyed having a reason to write for an actual real, live audience a couple of times a week. I’ve loved taking the pictures, or having a funny exchange with M, or watching something funny unfold and think how I would make it into a little narrative.

Most of all, of course, I’ve loved traveling. Even watching the news about Egypt this week – and now is clearly not the time to visit – I thought to myself, “Egypt. Damn. That would be a cool trip.” I don’t know if I can adequately express in words how traveling makes the world seem to me, how interesting and alive and stunning different each and every place that I’ve had the privilege to visit has been. It makes you filled with hope, somehow, that despite poverty and conflict, language and cultural barriers, that the big wide world is interesting and beautiful and filled with a lot of good people.

Of course, there were things I didn’t like about traveling: the constant stomach ailments, the uncertainty of the next place I was going to sleep, the non-stop hawking and street salesmanship, the requirement that I explain (and was expected to justify) a hundred-odd years of United States/Latin American power dynamics. Oh, and the fact that everything was happening in another language made even simple things very complicated. (Try buying a new computer power adapter or explaining the technical difficulties you are having with your internet connection. I learned some new verbs for sure.) There were even things I didn’t like about the countries we visited.

But visiting another country is like showing up uninvited to someone else’s home. Sure, you might not have chosen that rug and they didn’t have any cold beer in the fridge, but it was certainly nice of them to let you in, talk to you about politics and serve you some delicious beans and rice. I can honestly say that everywhere we went – from Patagonia to the Amazon to the Caribbean – we were treated with such friendliness and just genuine niceness. (You are traveling for how long? You are from Sweden, right? No, America! California! What do you think about President Obama? I have a sister/brother/cousin in California! You should definitely try the grilled lamb/fried rice/cow stomach.)

It was almost enough to make me feel all warm and fuzzy about the whole human race.

And on that note, I’m signing off (temporarily) until the next adventure comes along, and my mother has yet another reason to check in and make sure that I’ve caught that flight, survived that coup, and made it to the next destination.

Ecuadorian roses for sale: what I saw our first night back in California. I miss you, Ecuador!

For People Who End Up Reading This Website Who are Not My Mother

Welcome! I hope that however you found your way to our small corner of the internet you enjoy your stay here. If you are planning a trip to South America and have questions (I’m really no expert, but I have some experience on my side) or you’d like to offer me a sweet book deal that involves me backpacking and eating crazy food in Japan/Algeria/Finland/anywhere feel free to e-mail me at wearealivemom (at) gmail (dot) com.

Return to CA

18 January 2011

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Couldn’t resist the novelty of one more post from the road. We are now a few hours outside of our final destination, San Francisco, driving through snowcapped mountains.

Here are a few more photos from the road: inside the casino in Reno, M and I posing in our touring car (why yes, this is the car we took across the country!) and finally, the road to San Francisco and home (for now).

On The Road

17 January 2011

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Although impossible for my technologically challenged mind to believe, I am actually posting this from the road, using my cell phone. We’re on the second to last day of our cross-country jaunt, having driven through Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, Wyoming, and now leaving Salt Lake City for Reno, Nevada.

The one thing I’ve forgotten is how big, how vast and empty the Western U.S. is – huge swaths of sky, jagged mountains, and seemingly endless farm fields and grazing lands stretching to the horizon.

Which, actually reminds me of another issue of scale I’ve forgotten: portion sizes. They are HUGE.

Here are some photos from the road. My tech abilities do not yet extend to photo captioning on the phone, so these photos are uncaptioned: some views of the mountains, Great Salt Lake, a diner breakfast, M driving, and M’s little sister, who is making the great Western trek with us.

The Travel Day That Almost Wasn’t

14 January 2011

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Everything seems normal at first...

I’ve been sitting on this post for a while, but as we are leaving tomorrow for our road trip from Chicago to San Francisco, I thought it might be good to exorcise the travel demons. We’ve been really lucky on our travel for this ridiculous trip – we didn’t have late flights, lost luggage or the most-amazing-airline-screw-up-ever until we hit the United States. In fact, it was our final flight, from Miami to Chicago, on United Airlines, that was a hilarious (and frustrating) finale to our six months of near non-stop air travel.*

But first, let me tell you the gruesome details of our ferry ride from Spanish Town, BVI, to Beef Island, Tortola. We were to catch the 8:20 ferry, so we got to the dock in plenty of time, posed for goodbye pictures with the family, and waited for the ferry’s inevitable late arrival. We loaded on our bags, waved goodbye, and we were off, for about 5 minutes.

Then the boat just…stopped. And smelled a little like burning.

So we floated there, the captain turning around once to give us a smile, half sad, half sheepish. We waited for a bit, the 10 or so passengers speculating quietly to their neighbors about what was going on. M, being the take-charge type, stood up and asked the captain what was up. Our boat, it seemed, had died, and we were going to get towed back into the harbor, where we would take another boat across.

And so we did, in a sequence of events so fluidly coordinated that I would hazard a guess that this is not the first time that ferry had died, and not the first time that Speedy (a Virgin Gorda legend who owns a ferry and taxi company) came to the rescue by providing the hapless passengers with a ride in his boat.

The man and his tiny boat that towed us back into the harbor.

Our sad, dead ferry.

What happens next?

Why, a rescue by Speedy and his boat, of course!

A new ride in (rather crowded) style. One of the islanders didn't pay because she got all wet from the sea spray, and she told the captain, "I pay to take a boat to stay dry, not get wet." He didn't argue.

Sadly, we ended up making it to our departing flight on Tortola just fine.

M has a last gin and tonic in San Juan.

When we arrived in Miami from San Juan, we switched airlines to United, meaning that we picked up our baggage, went through the terminal, rechecked our bags, and went back through security. We did this as we had initially just bought a ticket back to Miami, not sure where we would be going in the U.S. after our trip. We decided on Chicago, to visit M’s family before heading west again, and so bought a ticket to Chicago. We noticed when checking in we had the absolute worst seats, a middle and a window in the very last row of the plane. We checked in at our gate to see if we could change our seats, but no dice, we had a full flight.

Our boarding group was called, and we headed on to the plane, walking all the way to the back. To row 27. Except, there is no row 27. The plane ends at 26. I looked at the seat numbers, and then back at my ticket, and thought, well, we must be in 26, right? They can’t have sold us seats in a row that doesn’t exist, right?

Wrong.

It wasn’t just us, but a whole row of people on the sold-out flight, six in total. The airline steward at the back of the plane couldn’t believe it, and kept looking at our tickets, assuring us that he had never seen this happen before, and we shouldn’t have been able to get on the plane. Too late for that one, United.

We tried to get the gate agent’s attention, but she ignored us. I mean, really ignored us – junior high school style ignored us – with the walking by and lack of eye contact that makes it clear someone doesn’t have the slightest interest in you or your problems. So, to keep it classy, we simply refused to leave the plane. Luckily for us, this prompted one of the stewardesses to announce that anyone willing to give up their seats would receive a hotel room, travel vouchers, you know the drill.

I’ve never seen people move so fast to get off a plane, and soon, we all had seats. But really? Invisible seats?

As one of our co-passengers on that flight said, “I sure hope you paid them with invisible money.”

Oops.

*I actually was pretty disappointed in United that after all that, we didn’t get an apology or even a free drink. In the words of Gob Bluth: “Come on!”

On the Road Again

8 January 2011

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It has been a long trip.

As an update on our travel, M and I are leaving the BVI tomorrow, spending a week or so in Chicago to visit M’s family, and then we are off on a quick road-trip to San Francisco, our final destination and the end of our traveling (for now). This puts us in San Francisco around the end of January, approximately six months after our first adventures in Colombia.

I plan to post a few quick updates from the road.  The purpose being, of course, to inform my mother that despite all the odds, we’re still alive and kicking!