four months in photos

Back home in DC and over two months has already whizzed by. We still have not resolved our computer issues (sticky keys on one, death by glass of water for the other). Fortunately I discovered a little media center in the lobby of the building where we are staying so I am able to scratch my blogging itch. I should probably get that looked at. So much jammed into our last few weeks in Luanda, I’ll do my best to let the pictures do the majority of the talking, but I can’t make any promises. So here we go— my knitting has finally graduated from scarves, simple camis and sofa throws to sweaters. I made this one for a friend’s new little fella, though the Bushbaby is modelling above. Sometimes it really is hard to part with these things after you’ve finished them! It’s a great lesson in detachment and enjoying the process. Something it seems we FS folks are regularly beat over the head with but that’s another story. Now I’m working on a pretty linen sweater for myself that I peck away at on weekly metro trips out to my yoga studio in Bethesda. It’s a nice way to spend the long ride from Capitol Hill. Over Easter weekend, (our second to last weekend on the continent) we snuck in a quick trip back to Cape Town. A fabulous way to frost our African adventure cake and for Snakes to fulfill his dream of running in the 2 oceans ultra marathon. No biggie…just a 56K. Nope, not a typo, fifty-six kilometers, a hair shy of 35 miles. Just thinking about that distance makes my thighs quake for mercy. But I have to say that that man rocked it. Despite the gale force winds sweeping around the seashores, he finished at 5:13. Next day was Easter Sunday which we spent lazing about Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens picnicking and chasing after the Bushbaby. Back to Luanda that next Monday with only around 10 days remaining. Since the embassy was closed that Thursday and we enjoy loading our schedules to the absolute max, we decided to invite everyone over for a giant bbq and farewell picnic. Around 50 people came. Snakes threw a pig leg onto his “big green egg” grill and commenced slow roasting for around 12 hours or so. I’d like to say that the turn out was due to how well loved we were at post, but I’m no fool. It was the promise of that massive smokey hunk of pork. The following day, Friday, I hosted a trunk-show with another friend. I had finally convinced our housekeeper to keep an eye on the Bushbaby one day a week while I escaped to my studio to work on some new stuff. I am so happy to report that I enjoyed it tremendously. I had worried that after all of this time away from my studio and any creative outlet- I would be comically rusty. Not true! Things turned out beautifully. Of course I only managed to photograph a few of the bags, but I’ll put the remainder up on etsy soon and my little side link will be active once again. We managed to raise a few hundred dollars for a local orphanage by donating 10% of our sales. Rather than handing over money, we elected to buy cases of diapers and formula. We packed out that next Monday- Wednesday and boarded the Houston Express back home on Thursday. We all arrived safely in Philadelphia that next Friday night where my sister-in-law was waiting, balloons in hand, to pilot the final leg of our journey back to Bethlehem, PA. We spent the next week in the gracious warmth and coziness that only a grandparent’s house can offer. Homemade goodies in the fridge, on the counter and in the oven. Springtime popping outdoors. What a way to decompress. From there, Snakes and the dogs headed to DC to get started with Spanish training at FSI. Bushy and I boarded a flight to Denver to visit my sister and her family for a couple of weeks. Now, back in the district, back into the rhythm of this life that I’ve missed so much. So grateful for this deceptively simple freedom. We ride our bikes and play in these gorgeous public spaces that constitute our nation’s capitol. We breathe deeply and fully. Why would we ever want to leave again? Oh yeah, and Snakes got himself a new bike. More on that later.

 

back up to speed

Friends! Family! We’re here!! Much has happened in the time since I last checked in. In fact the growing list of “blog posts I’d like to pen” has been slowly overwhelming me to the point of paralysis. I’ve decided to just do a big flashy whirlwind and later if I feel inspired enough to dedicate an entire post to any one of these subjects I can do so. But for now I just want to hop back on this train and chug forward.

Back in August, our sweet Bushbaby had her first birthday! It was a mellow affair with just the three of us. I made this 3 layer cake with lemon curd between the layers and lemon mousse frosting. Whoa. Did that just make your salivary glands spring to life? Did mine. It was incredibly special and really delicious. The cake topper was one from when Snakes was a kid. Each year it has another little animal with a candle in his car to add to the train. God bless that nostalgic MIL of mine! I’m so glad that she hung onto it.

We FINALLY had the opportunity to take a little walking tour of the old colonial ruins in downtown Luanda. I could have spent the entire day wandering through the crumbly buildings. Our RSO has always advised that we do not explore the city unless in a large group nor should we take our cameras along as the police are known to confiscate them. I took the risk of a few pictures, but I really needed more time than was allowed. Also people on the street do not like having their photo taken. 

A while back, I’d learned through some Chevron friends that just off the coast of Luanda is the migratory path of a massive pod of dolphins and a group of humpback (I think) whales.  Despite the fact that the embassy allegedly has a boat (as reported in post reports back at FSI), there were no organized trips planned. When Snakes asked about the mystery boat, he was told that it was too unfit for use. I was pretty bummed. I thought it would be such a shame to be SO close to this potentially amazing experience (especially when amazing experiences are in short supply) and not be able to make it happen. However! As luck would have it, one of the other moms at my playgroup sent me a last minute email saying that a couple who was scheduled to join them for an outing had cancelled and they now had space for two more. A friend agreed to come by and spend the afternoon with the Bushbaby and we set off for an afternoon on the water. It was magnificent. Great to get out of the city for a few hours, an interesting perspective on Luanda and the bay AND we actually spent a few hours following along side a group of whales. Of course pictures never do justice to these sorts of things. To hear their breath spraying through the surface was awesome. I know this post may lead one to believe that our schedules have been bursting at their seams with action and adventure, but as I’ve illustrated in the past the reality of life here is entirely different. Most days I am inside with little to do besides chase the love bug to and fro. And to be honest, there’s a fair amount of lazing about.

After she goes down for the evening I begin knitting like a fiend. Currently between projects, I am awaiting a yarn shipment from the states. I finished a couple of projects recently, my very first “garments”. The following picture speaks for itself and the bottom is of a lattice topped shell when it was nearly finished. It turned out beautifully and was in solid rotation on our recent trip. Confidence is slowly building to attempt more complex patterns, just in time for our move to a more varied climate! (20 more weeks, people!!!)

Speaking of that recent trip where I wore my cute new sweater with pride, this one decidedly merits its very own blog post. More to come on the beauty and grace of Portugal!

shipwreck beach

Saturday morning we joined a group from the embassy for a field trip to one of the few  nearby destinations. We are discouraged from traveling too far outside of the city on our own and forbidden to do so into the countryside.  I wish we’d known of these restrictions before coming here, since one of the greatest things about being in the foreign service is having the opportunity to explore the city and country in which one is living.

Shipwreck beach is just over 20 miles from the city but with Luanda’s infamously choked traffic, it took us over 2 hours each way. Snakes joked that if we were stationed in Brussels, we’d be arriving in Paris soon. This reminded me of when we were studying at FSI and one of our instructors always referred to Luanda as “the Paris of Africa”. Hmmm, granted I’ve only been to Paris once and I have always taken pride in my active and generous imagination but, honestly, I’m not seeing it.

We threw together a small picnic and set off around 8am. We didn’t bring the dogs, though we should have. There were only a handful of other people wandering the rusty barge boneyard. When boats in the Luanda harbor are no longer seaworthy, this is where they once retired. It was stunning in that depressing “ruin-porn” kind of post-apocalyptic way. Massive barges, freighters and fishing boats rusted out, capsized and drifting ashore.

We didn’t spend as much time as I’d have liked at this incredibly photogenic spot. It’d be great to return much earlier to avoid traffic and take advantage of the early morning light. The bushbaby enjoyed the fresh air, open vistas from her papa’s shoulders and her first toe-dip in the Atlantic.

That night, tucked safely into our clean and comfy beds, my mind was cycling through images from the day, trying to wrap my head around all I’d seen. Sometimes it’s just too much to process. It’s overwhelming and exhausting. I always feel guilty for not doing more, having been simply born into the privilege and responsibility of being an American, the dizzying advantage of a birthright which so many have forgotten or never realize to begin with.

settling in and missing out

Back in Luanda for a week now and as predicted things are much better with a bushbaby in tow and a less bionic sense of smell. Snakes was able to take this past week off to help us get situated and to spend time together as a family. My reunion with Banjo was beautiful. Slow motion, we ran to one another with our arms out and tails wagging, “never tear us apart” playing in the back ground of my demented mind. He had become progressively more crotchety in the last month, maybe losing faith that I’d return. I’m pleased to report he’s back to his well-behaved self. No big reaction from either dog toward the baby. After a couple of sniffs they both lost interest. I suppose they’ll revisit that once she starts flinging food. (Banjo and the baby’s toys are a different story…)

The last few weeks have been action packed. My mom came for a 10 day visit during our last couple of weeks in Johannesburg. It was a blessing to have the extra help, but mostly I’m grateful for the memories of her swaying and singing soft lullabies to her newest grandbaby. Skype is great and all, but there’s nothing like the smell and the pure snuggliness of a new little love dumpling. I’m so glad they had the chance to meet each other before that phase is over. After Colette was lulled to sleep we’d sip wine and work on sewing projects, laughing and catching up in the way that phone calls never allow. We managed to hand-stitch a little dress in a few evening’s time. (pictured above and below)

Oddly, when we joined the foreign service it never dawned on me how difficult it might be to be so completely isolated from family. Especially at times like these. I think we get so caught up in the “glamor” (wait…what??) and excitement of it all. Wow. My husband is a diplomat. Excuse me while I go try on cocktail dresses and cluck around the house trying to figure out high heels and red lipstick. It never once crossed my mind that I’d miss my mommy. Or that I’d have a little one who would only get to know her extended family through one big blitzy visit (if that) each year. How well will she know her grandparents? Her cousins? Her adoring aunties? There’s only so much the pixelated and delayed skype conversations and the strange, pseudo “connection” of facebook are capable of. Among the thousands of things I’ve taken for granted before moving here is the ability to see my family at will. It didn’t happen nearly as much as it should have. Hindsight’s a bitch.

Beyond my postpartum introspection and ruminations on the nature of family, it’s been phenomenal being back home and all together. As you may recall our huge shipment of household stuff arrived a week before I left back in July. Although we managed to unpack and somewhat organize the bulk of it, I didn’t have time to really stare into the spaces and sort out the proper homes for everything until now. I rearranged the entire living room, incorporating my Johannesburg treasures as I went. I’ll have to do some “before-after” shots, as promised. Oh! and Snakes hired a housekeeper! With two big dogs and a dusty city on our doorstep it is a incredible blessing to have her here 3 days each week. With a buff of the floor and a pass of the iron, she’s wasted no time in reminding me that housekeeping is not my strongest suit. I may actually have time to get back into my studio sooner than I thought!

 

dirty work for idle hands

One of the biggest challenges for me here in Luanda (and I might add for newly unemployed “trailing spouses” in general) is my lack of purpose. While my husband is off enjoying his work and building a satisfying career for 10 hours each day, I grapple with definition. I realize that once the baby comes (in two more months) I’ll be a mommy, which I know is a bigger job than I can imagine. It’s very likely that this existential tangent will dissolve into a past when I clearly had too much time on my thumb-twiddling hands. Never one to revel in my misery or angst for too long, I’ve started poking around in the yard.

Last month I posted about how excited I was to receive a couple bags of potting soil through amazon. I know it sounds silly, but the dirt in our yard is primarily sand and it will take me a while to build it up through my composting efforts, currently underway in the back courtyard. Although we only get dappled sunlight throughout the day, I’m hoping it’s enough. Once our things arrive, I’ll be able to prune back some of the low lying scrubby branches from the trees, letting more sunlight through.

In the meantime, I’ve started some seeds. We had some left over from our years of gardening. I’ll focus on growing things that I either can’t find here in the stores or if I do, are too expensive and of poor quality. For instance, there are tons of cukes, but just the great big ones used for salads. None to make pickles! This just won’t do. Who can live without crisp and garlicky refrigerator pickles for two solid years?

I’ve also started a few plants to donate to a community garden project on the embassy grounds. There are 3 of us who are working with the grounds keepers to get a little plot cleared and prepped for a vegetable and herb garden. Besides parsley and cilantro, there are no fresh herbs here! I never realized how dependent I am on fresh thyme or how just the thought of basil makes me say yet another little prayer of gratitude for the abundance I’ve had in the past. I actually used to nip little branches to add to summertime bedside bouquets. Seems so wasteful now.

Back to the embassy’s community garden project, we’ve been assigned a little spot to start out and gauge interest. We’re hoping that once people see how easy it is to get things going and how prolific our tomato plants (!!), there will be an interest in individual plots. Between the cost and quality of vegetables here in Luanda and the lack of recreational activities, I anticipate people will be eager to contribute.

I need to talk the guards into looking after my “babies” for the month of August when Snakes will join me in Johannesburg. He’s managed (by the grace of all that is holy in the FS) to do a little consulate swap since they could use an extra set of hands at the office in J’burg. This is such a stroke of luck. I will be leaving soon for 3 full months of preg-evac and he will join me in August, reporting to work at the consulate,  without having to burn all vacation/paternity time that’s stocked up. A canine-loving friend from USAID has agreed to look after the mutts. So just as my idle days are beginning to have some semblance of purpose and order, we’ll stir things up again. This time adding a totally new and quite substantial ingredient to the pot. 18 days until my departure. 2 months until that feisty ingredient’s due date.

here.

It’s been nearly a week. Excited countdowns like, “wow, next Tuesday we’ll be in Luanda!!!” have turned into wistful, “ohhh…. remember a week ago, we were in New Orleans at M’s beautiful little sanctuary?”

My God. What a world of difference. I imagine this will be an informative post for aspiring FSOs to read. I wish I could have read something like what I’m about to write last year around this time when we were beginning this journey. I am so painfully naive.

When our social sponsors told us that we should lower any expectation we may be coming in with, my radar should have let off a beep. Perhaps when they told us to prepare ourselves for a VERY hard life, that should’ve been the warning. I kept thinking, sure, I get it, it’s Africa, not America. I don’t expect a coffee shop on ANY corner or a Trader Joe’s in the burbs. I didn’t expect much of anything actually. I knew things would be very expensive (besides fresh fruit, veg, and dairy, the food prices seem comparable to DC, NYC, Paris). I knew the housing was not very nice. I suppose what disappoints me the most is my lack of imagination, that things really could be this “challenging”.

I should start by saying that I have been informed that I am not allowed to take any pictures. I’ve been told it’s for my own safety (getting jumped for my camera, a very real threat) and also that the local government frowns on it and have been known to confiscate cameras if the mood should strike.  When we go on outings, I am allowed to snap photos inconspicuously from behind the tinted windows of the motorpool van.

We are in temporary housing. I’d happily take pictures of our place, but it’s absolutely nothing to look at. Similar in many ways to a motel 6. Tile linoleum floors, the infamous FS furniture, a mind boggling amount of boxy pine book cases, tables, dressers and armoires, generic African prints of various safari animals. If I didn’t so highly value the few lamps and their kind, diffuse lighting I’d comment about their aesthetic, shades still wrapped in crinkly plastic. As it is, they are such welcome pieces when considering the alternative, the single naked lightbulb which dangles from a long wire in the center of each room. The layout is long and thin, like a trailer. Each room has a window which is covered by one of two window treatments: filthy powder blue mini blinds or a sheet tacked over (acting as a “sheer”?) then long brown drapes. Open any window to reveal a grimy glass pane with burglar bars attached, then about 3-10 feet of “wide open space” to a 10 foot cement wall adorned with razor wire. Needless to say it’s dark in here. The paved in “yard” is actually the embassy’s motorpool lounge, so 3-7 guys are out there all day and night, washing cars and carrying on.

And what a complete jackass I am. These quarters have running water (through the walls even, when it rains), air conditioning (it’s been in the 90s and very humid) and electricity  (we were only without power 4-5 times yesterday until the generator kicked on, lending power to the half of our house which did not, sadly, include our fridge…). And look! I try to be all full of gratitude for what we are so generously given, and I can’t even do it without sounding like an ingrate. This makes me so angry with myself, on top of everything else.  I am so sorry, my fellow Americans.

People here (appx 6-8 million of them) live in COMPLETE squalor. It’s no wonder I’m pushing the upper bracket of their life-expectancy. The shanty towns on the perimeter of downtown stretch on further than the eye can see. The royalties from the booming oil and diamond industry don’t seem to trickle down to social programs (a republican’s dream!!) or infrastructure that I can see. We were out of town Saturday afternoon to visit the Slave Museum, it rained and washed most of the roads out.

Our “permanent” housing isn’t ready yet. We were supposed to visit this past weekend but according to our facilities guy, “it’s pretty torn up”. They told us it’d be ready in around a week or so, just requiring a fresh coat of paint and some patches to the screens. I suspect we’ll be moving in 2-3 months. On a positive note, at least we won’t have much to move since our things aren’t expected for another 6 months from now. (Right around the time I arrive with a newborn.) The guy who was living in the house before cut his tour in Luanda short preferring instead to sign on for a year long hardship tour in Iraq. He’d prefer a summer in Baghdad to living here for another year. Wow. That give you a little perspective? Did me.

okay…. Positive stuff:  (fake it til you make it? I can do this!)

1. The swimming pool at the embassy.

2. We found decent lettuce (!!) at the market. I still need to soak it in bleach before eating it, but we were led to believe that it wasn’t available here for less than the price of our first born.

3. Dogs are happy and healthy. Lazy as ever but clearly very adaptable, surviving the 20+ hour journey from Houston. (would only have been 16 hours in crates but a mechanical failure while taxiing down the runway forced us back to the terminal to deplane and wait for a replacement 747.) Walking them is pretty much okay, though today I did run into a formidable pack of 6-7 scurvy street dogs. We were luckily separated by a lane of traffic. Got my heart racing, but I guess that’s good, considering there’s no where to exercise. (arg! negative again…)

3. Snakes enjoys the job so far at the embassy. He is in his obligatory consular rotation, processing visas and helping oil workers (and other Americans, of course) out of jams. He’s a little anxious, but nothing out of the ordinary. New job jitters.

4. His colleagues. Everyone we’ve met so far has been really lovely. Incredibly helpful, welcoming and kind. Invitations to do things all the time. It’s a very generous and warm group. I am hoping their positive attitudes rub off on me.

It takes a special sort of person to make it through a post like this in one piece.  I only hope I’ve got what it takes.

transportation and logistics

A few weeks back I took a class at FSI with the same title as this blog post. I spent the morning learning about various aspects of moving overseas I should most likely be obsessing over. Blessing or curse, I’ve always been a take it as it comes kinda gal and can’t see myself getting too twisted up about something that doesn’t happen for another 8 months anyway.  Although it was very informative and rich with resources, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as what’s been happening over here on Capitol Hill, our own trifecta of transportation adventures.

First off, I finally got my new bike! I’ve actually had the bicycle itself for a couple of weeks but the basket just came in a few days ago. It’s a Peterboro, handmade in Vermont since 1854. In the description it says it can “accommodate a small dog or cat for all of your bicycle trips”. So far I’ve just used it for groceries but I have to admit to fantasies of getting Banjo a step ladder so he can easily climb aboard. I wish I could at least photoshop him in to the picture. *

just imagine a mud dog in the basket! Too cute.

Secondly, Snakes has been stalking BMW motorcycles on the internet ever since I have known him. He spouts off different makes and models excitedly, clicking on various links and BMW sites, as my eyes slowly glaze over.  He’s just been waiting to see where we’re headed before pulling the trigger on the purchase.  And that day, my friends, has finally arrived.

"Did you hear a truck outside?? I think I heard a truck.."

He is now the very proud owner of a 1990 R-100 GS Paris-Dakar (see what I mean, didn’t your eyes just glaze over too?) It got to our house Thursday afternoon, appropriately on the eve of his birthday.  It looks like a huge bad ass road worthy dirt bike to me. The 10 gallon tank allows longer trips into the African countryside without having to haul containers of gasoline along.

We recently came upon this blog, which is the travelogue of a surly group of South Africans who took a motorcycle trek through Angola. They got some incredible photos of the “beach” which lies to the south of Luanda. It seems to be more like a dessert that connects to the ocean, miles and miles of sand. I don’t think we’ll do anything quite so extreme but we plan to do a fair amount of exploring through Luanda’s neighboring regions.

And finally, aforementioned birthday was Friday. His one request? A segway tour.

I made reservations with “Segs in the city” segway tours for their sunset “National Monument Safari”. We rolled from 7 til 9. The weather was ideal, our last day of civilized temps for a while. In those two hours we visited the Washington Monument, Jefferson, FDR and the Lincoln Memorials. It was fun, but living within a mile of the monuments, we ride our bikes through there all the time. I really just wanted to get some speed up on that baby, despite its 10 mph speed limit. When the tour finished, we hopped on our bikes and rode back to our neighborhood, ending the evening with a late dinner at a neighborhood French bistro.

It was an excellent beginning to our holiday weekend. Tomorrow, picnics and fireworks over the mall, a relaxing Monday, and Portuguese begins on Tuesday!

*photo credits for me on my new bike go to Snakes.

no guts…no glory

The books from my awesome, generous and thoughtful sister have arrived. As a result, I am having a hard time taking care of much else. I find my self entirely distracted, eager to soak up as much information as I possibly can about this fascinating country. Until last month when the bid lists came out, my extent of “Angola knowledge” was limited to the prison rodeo at the Louisiana State Penitentiary. I had the pleasure of attending this maximum security hootenanny back in the late 90s when I was living in New Orleans. That’s one t-shirt I wish I’d have hung onto, especially now.

We’ve been contacted by FSOs currently stationed there and others who’ve completed the assignment. A Canadian diplomat, who finished her tour in February, left a comment on my last post and generously offered to answer any questions I have. She calls Angola “an intellectually fascinating country.” After all of the brow-furrowing post reports I’ve read I was delighted to hear, “The infrastructure in Luanda is, frankly, amazing. They are really putting the oil money they’re swimming in to good use- really good (and surprisingly clean!) roads, nice buildings, etc. The situation is really different outside Luanda though- the poverty and lack of infrastructure is obvious, and there is a painful disparity between it and the capital.”

Unfortunately she confirmed rumors of Luanda being one of the most expensive cities in the world. She advised, “You’ll get used to it. Eventually you just sort of stick an extra zero on everything in your head.” I had read that a head of cauliflower costs around $35. (!) I’m starting to view the prices at DuPont circle farmer’s market as TOTALLY reasonable. ($7 for a spindly bunch of asparagus? Wow! Is that mismarked?? What an excellent deal. Rhubarb for 10 bucks a pound? Unbelievable! Fill the bag! I’ll make jam!! Kale, $5 a bundle?? Stop pulling my leg!) Snakes had lunch yesterday with a fellow FSO (with a recent Angolan tour under his belt). From him, we learned that when you go for drinks with friends (and I’m not talking a frat-party Patron-soaked binge here), everyone throws down $100 bill, and often that does not cover the check. Fortunately, we are allowed a COLA (cost of living adjustment) to help compensate. I just wonder how long it will take for my mid-western sensibilities to give way, loosening my white knuckled death grip enough to part with $200 for a burger and fries.

The email from the Canadian diplomat concluded by saying, “I hope this helps. Luanda isn’t an “easy” post by any measure- but it’s a really worthwhile one. I would consider you really lucky to be going- you’re going to be heading into a really energetic country going through a lot of changes all at once, and you get a front-row seat.” With that, confirming my suspicion that this is a way better ticket than the one I had for the prison rodeo over a decade ago. Yeeee-ha!

machete on the flag, y’all

Three days remain of the 153rd A-100 training.  I imagine everyone’s heads must still be spinning from the infamous flag day ceremony on Monday. I am certainly a member of camp vertigo, if not its chief of operations. It’s a ton of information to digest in a small amount of time. My mom and stepdad are en route from Battle Creek, MI, slated to arrive this evening. Snakes’ family arrives tomorrow and Friday morning. All are here for the formal swearing in ceremony taking place that afternoon.  My intention was to cook up a “post-themed” dinner-cocktail party for Friday evening. Imagining tapas and paella with a crisp Albarino if Madrid was announced, maybe some sort of pulled pork tacos with fresh warm corn tortillas, cilantro and lime with citrusy margs if Mexico City, or some version of BiBimBop if Korea was our destination. I’ll admit to not having a plan for Luanda.  How exactly do you ferment cornmeal paste and do you think I can get that rollin’ before Friday?

Before leaving the house Monday afternoon, I seriously considered having a glass of wine, even poured one, but then decided against it because I wanted my wits about me entirely. I regretted this puritanical decision almost immediately upon arrival at the FSI as the pre-ceremony anxiety was as palpable as it was infectious. I settled in next to my fellow spouses, pouring over my high-lighted and dog-eared copy of the bid list, reminding myself to breathe. Ceremony under way, FSOs going up to collect their flags, excitement, disappointment (?), confusion, relief. When Snakes’ name was called as the Angolan flag flashed across the overhead projector, a mispronunciation made me hesitate to understand what I was hearing.

“Wait…. that’s me. I mean him. Wait a minute- What? Where did they say?”

“Luanda, Angola. Did you guys bid that one high???”

Yes. Yes, we did. Our rationale: we are so delighted to have this opportunity, to be members of the FS community, to serve where ever we are needed. (I know it sounds nauseatingly altruistic, but bear with me here). We’ll learn to speak Portuguese fluently. We get to stay in DC until February which means holidays with families and more time to get “Project: Bun in the Oven” up and running.  Snakes will get his “consular” rotation out of the way (which I believe all FSOs must do within the first 5 years). Those logistics all look great.

Now for Luanda in particular… I have MUCH research to do.  I just got an email from Amazon letting me know that my big sis has 3 books about Luanda/Angola/Africa on their way to us. (Thanks lady! You’re the best.) I look forward to discovering some non-biased information, instead of the post reports I’ve come across which seem a little hot headed and emotional. I know it’s going to be very expensive, but so are DC, Paris, and Manhattan. I’ve survived those, pocketbook still intact. I think the important thing is to not be afraid of what I don’t know.  And if it turns out that I am required to defend myself against pythons and aggressive backyard weeds with a machete, you, my friends, will be the first to hear of it.