Adventures in arrivals

After an almost completely sleepless red-eye flight from Washington, DC, to Buenos Aires, Argentina, the first thing to greet me in my new home country was a conundrum.

After picking up my bags and Mad Maggie-delicious, I had to pay a fee at customs to allow my mangy mutt entrance into the wider world of Buenos Aires (i.e. the world wider than the baggage claim and customs areas at Ezeiza Airport). However, there were no ATMs in customs and the fee can only be paid in cash. Strangely enough, I had given the last of my U.S. money to Jan at Dulles Airport, in a (clearly misguided) attempt to help pay for gas he expended on both trips to the airport on my behalf (first to pick Maggie up when she arrived from Mexico, and again to deport me to Argentina). And since Buenos Aires is a major, metropolitan city that prides itself on its European-ness, I just assumed ATMs would abound. Well, clearly we know what assuming does…

So, I asked the guards if I would be allowed back into the customs area if I left to go get some money, and they said “yes;” all I had to do was circle around to this back door and knock (maybe even say the magic words like entering a speakeasy).

So I leave customs, with all my bags and my dog sitting by the counter where I had to pay these “I love my puppy” fees, and entered the general din that is the rest of the airport. My colleagues were standing with all the other friends and family members in that pen-like area just outside the doors and were ready to run to the car. Jerry (my office sponsor) just handed me a hundred Argentine pesos (approximately equivalent to US$25) and I tried to get back to Maggie and my luggage.

Well, guess what? (You’ve probably already foreseen where this story was going, but I, in all my sleepless wonder, had no idea what the hell I was doing at the time.) When I went to this weird back door and knocked, I was told that I needed a representative of United Airlines to escort me back into the customs area. WTF?!!??

So we wander all around the ticketing area, looking for an office for the United folks. We seriously just jumped behind a counter and started walking up and down the hallways behind the ticketing stations, where the offices are located.

Eventually we found some kind United employee, who escorted us all the way back to the customs area, to again knock on the speakeasy-like door, say the magic words, and, “Voila!”: entry back into customs.

Thankfully, none of my stuff had been stolen, the people who had been helping me before allowed me to cut in front of this miles-long line that had appeared since I last left the area a half hour prior, and I paid the token fee.

So I grabbed all my stuff, very awkwardly might I add, and exited customs for the second time that day.

Of course, that’s not the end of the adventures.

We drove the hour or so from the airport to my temporary digs, deposited Maggie, completed the world’s fastest grocery run, toured the neighborhood in 20 seconds or less, and then parted ways so I could take a nap and so Jerry could return to the office.

This should have been fantastic, as I was out of energy reserves, but here’s why it was not: I nearly froze to death trying to take a nap.

Now, many of you have already told me how unsympathetic you are to my plight because, after all, I am in Buenos Aires. I know. But all the same, I haven’t lived in a Latin American country yet that is even remotely equipped to handle cold weather. And the week I arrived, Argentina just plummeted into a cold snap (yeah, the week prior it was 60 degrees F). This literally means that people and animals (sorry, Andrew, about the alpacas) have been dying because of the weather.

Moreover, Buenos Aires hadn’t experienced such cold temperatures in at least ten years. In fact, there was this article in CBS News within 2 days of my arrival:

“FRIGID TEMPERATURES, SNOW IN ARGENTINA!
A polar air mass settled in Argentina this week pushing temperatures down across the country and causing rare snowfall in the Buenos Aires province.

People in downtown Buenos Aires bundled up against the cold as temperatures ducked down near freezing, taking locals by surprise.

Street vendors ran a swift trade in hats, scarves and gloves as rumors floated around that snow might fly in the capital. A snow in 2007 in Buenos Aires, the first in 89 years, touched off euphoria amongst residents.

Meteorologist Daniel Cortes said the cold air mass pushed up from Antarctica and settled in the middle of the country.

‘The entrance of a cold front from the Antarctica into the middle of the country caused very low temperatures and snows in the province of Buenos Aires, especially on the coast,’ he said.”

Yeah, that’s right, I now live in a country that freaks out if it snows. It kind of reminds me of DC…

But I digress. So it’s cold in Buenos Aires when I arrive. Which is fine, except for the following:

• All my heavy winter sweaters, hats, scarves, gloves, and jackets are in my Unaccompanied Air Baggage (UAB), which I believe may arrive just as the temperatures start to hit 70 degrees F again. I will defend myself by stating that I packed out in early June, when the forecasts were still calling for 50-60 degree weather in July in Buenos Aires. Did I mention that it’s not normally this cold here?
• The Welcome Kit in my apartment only came with a sheet set and a blanket, which is about the equivalent of trying to keep warm by wrapping yourself in a large sheet of paper. Not very helpful.
• And the kicker? The heat in my apartment was nonfunctional.

It would end up taking 4 days until the embassy’s facility management folks could fix the heating system, but I had to survive until then so I gave up on the nap, bundled up in whatever I could find, and braved the winter weather to find the nearest mall, where I then spent far too much money buying a huge pile of blankets.

Not yet being aware that everything in Buenos Aires can be delivered (and yes, that even includes a single coke, a pint of ice cream, dog food – really, whatever you want, it’s the bonaerense way), I dragged this man-sized bag of blankets all the way back to my apartment, where I finally curled up with Mag-delicious and the new, cozy linens for a long, long nap.

Welcome to Buenos Aires to me…

The latest in a long string of homes

As many of you are already aware, I have received my housing assignment for Buenos Aires.  Not only was I extraordinarily lucky in my post assignment, I also think I was lucky in my housing assignment.  I got absolutely everything I asked for.  (Of course, I fully expect to get stuck in a mud hut outside of the Green Zone in Baghdad for my next tour, but I digress...)

On to the particulars!  My apartment will be in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires and is basically a two-block straight-shot from the embassy - well, it would be if there weren't that "pesky" park in between the embassy and my building.  So it's probably a 10-15 minute walk to work.

I still don't know what the building looks like on the outside, but other residents tell me that there is a sauna, a pool, a party room, a grill area, and a gym.  I am told that ours is one of the few buildings fully equipped to host parties.  So just keep that in mind when you're considering whether or not to come visit.

My apartment will be on the 12th floor, which I'm told offers me great views of the city.  The apartment is a 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom, ginormous space.  And guess what?  I have pictures:

Entry way, dining room

Dining room, living room, den

Half bath

Kitchen

Living room, den

Master bedroom

Guest room

Now that I can almost imagine myself there, I am getting pretty psyched.  I just need to survive the last week of paperwork, farewells, and logistics...

We came, we screamed, we became nauseated, we rocked it!

Last Saturday, a group of us went to Six Flags America and realized very quickly that we are a lot older than we like to admit.  We started the day on the Superman rollercoaster; the first ride was so awesome, we immediately got in line to do it again.  Ride number two was not so awesome.  We realized how little it takes to make a bunch of thirty-year-olds feel nauseous.

Or ridiculous, as clearly evidenced by Matt, the one lone male lost in a sea of estrogen while (halfheartedly) attempting a Chicken Dance mime.

So the day became cyclical: scary ride, kiddie ride, eat, repeat.  And then we ended the day at the pool - okay, so Matt and I ended the day at the pool bar where we proceeded to get no service for over an hour (I'm serious, not even one, single beer was offered, despite the plantive, mewling cries of Matt beside me), but we could see the pool from where we sat and that pretty much counts as far as I am concerned.

We even came home with souvenirs.  Two to four week souvenirs.  What's not to love?

Luckily for us, Anna, our nine-year-old chaperone, made it look good.  She also gave us plenty of cover for acting like fellow nine-year-olds.  Let me just tell you that she is one hell of a bumper car driver and leave it at that. 

All the culture of summertime in DC and only two weeks to do it in

I have a smidge over two weeks left here in the States and my schedule feels pretty packed.  This coming week I finish the final of three weeks of the Political/Economic Tradecraft course at the training institute, which comes replete with PowerPoint presentations, practical exercises, report-writing, consultations with other State Department (and other agency/business/NGO) officials, and homework.  I also have a fair number of goodbyes to start saying.

And of course, life with the State Department is never complete without the requisite number of forms to be filled out - to make sure my email account follows me to post, to make sure I returned all my library books, to make sure Embassy Buenos Aires knows when I am arriving, to make sure my paycheck continues to be deposited, to make sure my household effects don't get mistakenly delivered to Abu Dhabi (where all the cute kittens are - sorry, couldn't resist a Garfield reference)...the list goes on, and on, and on.  Even I am no longer sure if there is some form I have forgotten or failed to fax properly or whatnot.

The good news is that I have taken care of everything that can be conceivably taken care of at this point.  I packed out of my apartment weeks ago.  Maggie has a reservation on my flight (and there is a back-up plan in place in the unlikely event that the airline won't let her on the plane the day I leave).  I have my passport and visa all ready to go.  My office is aware of my arrival time and I have already been assigned housing in Buenos Aires.  All the paperwork that can be completed at this point has been completed.

The bad news is that I am a naturally anxious persion (thanks da' Momma!) and I am feeling the stress of departing in two weeks.  Of course, my natural reaction is that there is something I am missing - if only I could slow down long enough to think, I would figure out exactly what that is...

However, all told, I am managing pretty well.  And I am doing as much as I can to enjoy these last few summer days here in Washington.  Granted, I hate humidity and DC is nothing if not humid these days, but I've managed to find quite a few air-conditioned things to do - okay, well, my a/c events generally revolve around eating, but I am happy as a clam when I am eating, so it works for me.  This past week alone, I had a rooftop BBQ by the pool with Marilyn, Stephanie, Akoua and Jackie (I made chili burgers on portabello buns and a nice salad flavored with tabasco); Italian food at Posto with Delvis; Nepalese food at Himalayan Heritage with my sister (rock!); Lebanese food with the Spousé family; Salvadorian food with Morgan and Erin; pizza with Jah; and I just finished eating some Mexi-Cali brunch with Marilyn (I make a mean chorizo scramble - thank you to Ali to introducing me to such a wonderful delight!).  Next week might not include so much diversity in my meal choice, but I do have plans for a lovely Italian-style picnic for Jazz at the Sculpture Garden, and filling, yummy awesomeness at brunch at Tabard Inn on the 4th of July.  I may also have more BBQ in my future, as Independence Day and burgers and hot dogs seem to go hand-in-hand.  I might also get in some seafood, if I can convince Chasity to be my harbor date next weekend...Wow, just thinking about all this food makes me a happy girl...

Regardless, my time here in DC in winding down and I am beginning to set my sights on Argentina.  It is going to be such a huge change in my life, but it is difficult for me to really develop solid expectations.  I am a little nervous that I am behind the curve ball in terms of knowing enough about Argentine history, regional politics and relationships, and about economics in general, but I know that it won't take long for me to get caught up once I am at post and living the life.  Having lived overseas before, I am also anticipating the ups and downs that generally mark the transition to post - spending too much money at the outset; not knowing anyone; learning to live in a new culture in a foreign language; etc. - but I am also looking forward to the challenge, the adventure of it all. 

The most radical change for me, actually, will be that I am doing this all by myself.  When I lived overseas before, I always had someone with me.  When I studied abroad in London for a summer semester, I did so through a program at Penn and participated with my friend, Michelle.  When I lived in Peru and Mexico, I did so with Anthony, who took on the majority of the logistics and stress himself (out of necessity, as I had no authority to work with the State Department to make any of the arrangements anyway).  This time around, it's just me - well, Maggie will be with me, too, but without opposable thumbs, she's kind of useless. 

So this experience will be unlike any that has come before, just like the last four months in DC proved to be unlike any that came before.  Let the adventure begin!

I didn't forget you, Estee

Just call me a slacker, Estee.  I have been saving up some of my favorite Southern Sayings of the Day for over two months now and I've created quite the stack of usable quotes for you.  So, without further ado, here they are, in chronological order of course (I tip my hat to you and your OCD, Mr. McLaughlin):

April 6: If you're getting angry at someone, you might say...
I'll cloud up and rain all over you.

April 7: Laziness
He wouldn't catch his breath if it didn't come natural.

April 21: Self-Importance
They're so snooty that if they get to heaven they're gonna ask to see the upstairs.

April 24/25: Stupidity
He ain't get sense enough to pour water out of a boot if the directions were on the heel.

April 26: Short on Cash
There ain't a tater in the patch.

April 27: When someone makes an assumption without having all the facts, you might say...
Not everything that moves around in the dark is Santa Claus.

May 3: Politicians
Politicians are as crooked as a hound dog's hind leg and twice as dirty.

May 4: If a friend acts arrogant after inheriting a large sum of money, you might say...
The higher a monkey climbs, the more he shows his butt.

May 6: If you come up with a great idea, you might say...
It's horse-high, bull-strong, pig-tight, and goose-proof.
(I can almost hear Martha saying this one right now...)

May 17: Undependable
He's so worthless the tide wouldn't take him out.
I can think of one or two people I'd say that about...

May 24: Downhearted
She's as sad as a fallen cake.

June 5/6: Tall
He's so tall if he fell down he'd be halfway home.

June 7: Feeling Great
I'm finer than a frog hair split four ways.
(Martha tells me her dad uses this one on a regular basis.  SWEET.)

June 8: If you want to compliment someone's cooking, you might say...
This is gooder'n grits!
(In fact, this is required every time I cook you a meal, regardless of the truth of the matter.)

June 10: Referring to someone who acts cool because he can hide his emotions, you might say...
There may be snow on the roof but there's fire in the hearth.
(Oh dear, I know many a man like this...)

June 11: Vocally Challenged
He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
(Sorry to say that I immediately think of Michelle's chorus story when I read this one - remember how she was made the chorus librarian so she didn't have to sing?)

All caught up!  Estee, you're welcome.

Abrazos y besos a todos...

Because it's awesome

It is really just starting to sink in that there are only 4 more weeks before I start life over again in a new country.  I am not intimidated by the change, but, having lived overseas previously, I know the costs involved (there are also benefits, but those are more pertinent to another conversation, at another time).  The biggest cost for me is always trying to develop a new support base of friends and (adopted) family.  What really brought that home for me was the visit by Andrew, Estee, Martha and Mel this past weekend.

Everyone trained/bussed (not a word, but deal)/flew down/up to DC to spend a few chaotic days squeezed ever so tightly in my one-bedroom apartment here in Dupont Circle.  Outside of the precious few friends I have kept in touch with since middle or high school, Andrew, Estee, Martha and Mel represent the core of a group of friends who have been close to me the longest.  We met during our freshman year at the University of Pennsylvania and I haven't once wished it were different.  As I've said before and I'll say again (and again and again), a girl couldn't ask for a better group of friends.  These people have my back (literally, between the lawyering, financial and nursing skills that this group represents, I have an answer to every problem).

Just knowing that this was the last time we were all together before I ship off to Buenos Aires really reminds me of how precious these moments are.  It also reminds me that all the future plans I was making are now current plans, and I leave in a month (a month!!!). 

Regardless, now that we've become (somewhat) mature adults and have moved to different states and countries, it has become difficult for us to all be together.  Like Clark Kent and Superman, we are often not in the same room at the same time.  So these get-togethers mean so much to me, even if all we do is sit on my couch to escape the heat stroke that is likely during these hot and humid DC summer days...

So, a recap is in order:

• Andrew is the first to arrive.  I might have beaten him if I didn't decide that a last-minute Happy Hour with Micita was the perfect idea.  He informs me by text that it took him 3 tries to open my front door so he could leave his bags behind.  The awesomeness officially began.
• I arrive back at my apartment to find Andrew's TWO BAGS (what are you, a woman!??!) in front of my apartment door with a lovingly handwritten note informing my neighbors that these bags, these TWO COLOSSAL WOMAN'S BAGS FOR A TWO-DAY TRIP are for Ryan Janda, in apartment 4, and please don't steal them.  I consider briefly leaving them in front of my neighbor's door instead, sans note, but am kind enough to bury them in the pile of electronics waiting for the movers in my living room.
• Maggie and I go to the dog park.  It is too late to go grocery shopping, so I drop the dog back in her crate and leave the apartment.  Mel texts me to let me know she is in town and I give her Metro directions.  The wrong directions, in fact.  Good thing was that she was already out of the Metro at Dupont Circle, right by my house.  I coerce her into getting back on Metro to go to the airport for Martha.
• Mel will likely not feel this story is complete without the story of the homeless woman on the train.  It just so happens that we sat down next to an older homeless woman who seemed to be trying to get to the Shaw/Howard University stop.  Unfortunately for her, she was on the train going in the opposite direction.  Unfortunately for us, we strongly believed she was on some sort of intoxicating substance (or she had severe mental issues).  It took me about 20 minutes to convince her to get off the train and try to get on a train going in the right direction.  She finally decided to follow us when we got off at the National Airport stop.  We walked her over to the other platform and tried to leave her there, telling her to take the next yellow line train.  Every time we thought she understood and started to walk away, she would all of a sudden gain some kind of consciousness and call us back.  So I asked Mel to text Martha so we could figure out where to meet her, mostly because Mel needed something to do other than to look incredulous at the fact that we two were helping out a homeless lady (Mel would have preferred to call the cops, I believe; note to people who may one day feel compelled to help out a homeless person: do only what you feel comfortable doing.  If it's talking to him/her, fine, do it.  If it's calling the police, fine, do it.  If it's just leaving the information for the nearest shelter, fine, do it.  Interacting with the homeless is not a requirement and should not feel compulsory; the only thing I do not advocate is being openly disrespectful - no one should treat a person in an undignified way).  Eventually, the woman wandered off, hopefully to find whatever it was she was looking for.
• Meanwhile, Martha wondered what the hell Mel was doing at the airport.  Basically, Mel hadn't decided to join us until that morning, so Martha was all, "Who are you and why are you at the airport?"  Needless to say, we reunion-ed at baggage claim with our favorite Southern belle and returned her, whole and hearty, to the District.
• Mel decided she needed pasta so I convinced my ladies that a jaunt to Posto was absolutely necessary.  It was four blocks further than Mel wanted to walk (i.e. it was four blocks away from my apartment), but we made it without any major mishaps.  Dinner was, simply put, *amazing.*  If you live in the DC area and you haven't yet tried Posto, run, do not walk.  It's that good.
• As we were nearing the end of our meal, my darling Sean, one of my foreign service colleagues, and his friend Jeff walked in.  Hugs!
• Then Estee called to let us know that she arrived at Union Station and was taking a cab to us.  We had coffee and it was glorious.
• Then Andrew called to tell us that whatever Georgetown MBA function he had ditched us for was now over and he was working his way back to my apartment.  So we made him sweat it out a little on my front steps, while we took our sweet time (i.e. kept Mel's turtle-like pace) walking back.
• The air mattress.  It doesn't even need complete sentences, it is that infamous.  My friend Chasity loaned me this air mattress (thank you, doll!), but I hadn't bothered to check to see what I needed to inflate it.  I naturally assumed that it just plugged into the wall.  And you know what assuming does: it makes you think that using a tire pump to fill up an air mattress outside of your local gas station at 1AM is a good idea!  Turns out the air mattress was battery operated.  But we five ivy league grads thought the smart thing would be to use the Air Vac at the gas station to fill it up.  Five dollars or so in quarters later and we determined we just simply didn't have enough change to ever get the mattress to a comfortable level of fullness.  The good news is that one drunk guy walked by with his friends and was so totally appreciative of our ingenuity that we felt far less ridiculous than we would have otherwise - even despite the fact that some of us were in our pajamas (lucky for me, I was also the one with the camera, so...).  After our first failure of the evening (Air Vac: 1; UPenn Grads: 0), we decided to take the longer trek to the 24-hour CVS for "elephant-testicle" sized batteries, also know as D batteries.  Yes, my friends, I said "elephant testicles."  Since there were cops outside the door to CVS, we didn't try out the batteries until we were in front of Starbucks, clearly a much more conspicuous location.  Success!  And now we know that when Mel and Andrew start pumping out little Asian babies that glow-in-the-dark, we have the air mattress to thank!  Chasity, your next drink is on us... 

 

• Saturday is really quite a blur in my mind.  This day could probably best be described as "couching."  I remember making brunch for everyone, walking the dog, getting froyo and ice cream, and exchanging some shoes at Johnson & Murphy's, but what I remember most clearly are two things: 1) debilitating humidity, and 2) the couch.
• Saturday night, it was just me and the ladies.  Andrew (slacker) ditched us for other, more important friends, while I dragged the girls out to VA for a going-away party for a colleague of mine who has now shipped off to Ciudad Juarez, Mexico.  Much of the evening was spent moving from one group of people to the next, chatting and working the room, but we also managed to have a few key moments worth remembering.  One is that my Penn friends met one of my GMU friends and his fellow GMU friend.  Let's just say that "come sit on my friend's face" is not the best introductory text, nor is "Smell ya later!" the best farewell text (although, to Gaurav's credit, we did continue to tell each other to smell ourselves later for the rest of the weekend).  Another is that Micita is now thoroughly impressed by Mel's networking skills when Mel walked up to 2 marines with Micita, started a conversation, and then totally walked away, leaving Micita surrounded by marine yumminess.  Everyone needs a Mel, I'm tellin' ya.  We also attempted to go dancing at Cafe Citron, but were not cool with the lack of breathing room on either floor so we returned to my apartment, where Mel could puke in the relative privacy and comfort of my place.  It was a very posh affair.

• Sunday, da-dah, da-da-da-dah...We were supposed to meet with Jeff and Liz at Busboys and Poets for brunch, but we received their cancellation text after we had already seated ourselves so we ate without them.  We enjoyed our communism with a side of eggs/toast/grits/whatever.
• Then we started booting people out of the District like it was a fire sale.  Mel got tossed first, needing basically all afternoon and all night to train back to Hartford.  There was maximum groping (she is oh-so-grope-able!). 

• At some point, we also tossed Estee and Andrew, who were both Bolt Bussing it back to NYC.  It was 2 for the price of 1, and then it was just Martha and me and Maggie.  The apartment seemed so empty.
• Mostly, Martha and I relaxed for the next 2 days.  She got in some reading for primary care nursing, while I continued to do whatever it is I do to prepare for departure.  We got some beautiful weather with low humidity, Martha took care of my Tempur-pedic delivery (without the foundation, of course, as it would not fit through the door), I had myself a meeting with one of the craziest people I have ever met (but I can't divulge names on the internets), and then we treated ourselves to a sangria happy hour replete with boys, a bartender that looked like a 1980s porn star, paella, a recurring and malfunctioning fire alarm that urged us all to leave the building, and tapas. 


• We certainly tried to add culture to our DC visit, but it just didn't happen.  Instead of things like the National Zoo, the Museum Walking Tour, and the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian, we now have memories that revolve around air mattresses, elephant testicles, smelling people later!, sangria, and couches.  Not bad, my friends, not bad at all.

I am seriously going to miss you guys, but remember: Penn Reunion 2011 in Buenos Aires!

Gotta get in at least one May post

Funnily enough, one of my coworkers/friends was the first to give me a hard time about not posting on here recently.  And it was even at his going-away party - I mean really, he took the time out of his busy shot-taking schedule to note that I hadn't written in far too long.  So clearly, as a farewell gift, I must write again.  Al, this one is for you...

To be honest, I can hardly remember what has passed since last I wrote.  Perhaps it is easiest if I work from most recent and work my way backwards in time?  It won't be thorough, but it'll be the best I've got.

So let's start with Memorial Day weekend:

• Maggie-Moo spent Thursday through today (Monday) with the Spousé family in Falls Church, VA, as I had long ago promised to attend Morgan's wedding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  Which means that she spent basically five days with (the new) Grace (the mildly anti-social dauschaund) and Julie (the amazing Veezlo who Flashdances to Maniac), her newest best friends in the world.  We've had a couple of doggie dates with the extended Spousé clan and it has done wonders for Maggie's anti-social behavior, so when my regular dog-sitters a) decided to get married in the OBX, and b) flew to the midwest for the long weekend to visit a sick relative, my first thought went to Grace, Julie and their ever-pleasant owners.  Lucky for me, they love dogs and seem to think Maggie is cute (I didn't contradict them until after they had said "yes," of course).  Maggie is now back home, but I think she already misses being with the Spousé family - she is just lying on the floor, all dejected, with her head between her paws...

• As I alluded in the previous paragraph, I had a wedding to attend in the Outer Banks this weekend.  I had a plane ticket, which I forewent to drive down with Anthony, whose plane had plans other than to actually fly him into Norfolk (the closest airport to the wedding).  He got into DC late Thursday night and shortly after noon on Friday, we were on our way.  For those of you who, like my mom, are worried that I may have had some sort of emotional breakdown upon seeing Anthony for the first time since we broke up and stopped living together, let me just reassure you that all is fine.  And it turned out to be really nice to actually know someone else at the festivities other than the bride and groom.  I find that at weddings, most people have been friends since the beginning of time and they aren't using such an occasion to make new friends so I am often the odd man out.  And even though Anthony was one of the groomsmen (actually, he was basically the ONLY groomsman; the other "groomsman" was actually the best man) and sat at the head table with the newly wedded couple, it was nice knowing that I didn't have to spend the whole event forcing my conversation on random friends and family members I will likely never see again.  (Heck, if I've gone this long without ever meeting them, it's looking likely that it will be a while before we meet again.)  But it was a pretty good use of my diplomatic skills - talking intelligently to strangers will definitely come in handy at the cocktail parties and other social events I'll be required to attend as part of my job in Buenos Aires.  In any case, the wedding was quite beautiful - Morgan and Erin prepared their own vows of love, which were deeply touching, and I wish them nothing but happiness forever and ever amen.  If anyone deserves a happily ever after married life, it is my friend Morgan.

• My stepdad was also in town for the long weekend, staying with my sister Preyasha in Glover Park.  As Anthony and I left the wedding Saturday night and immediately hopped in the car to drive back to DC thereafter, I was back in the District by 3AM on Sunday morning.  Which clearly meant that I had time to meet with them for dinner at my favorite neighborhood restaurant, Mandu.  I don't get to see my family nearly enough, so it is always good to get together over a meal and catch up on life.  The late Sunday night latte and creme brulee wasn't so bad either. 
• And a holiday weekend wouldn't be complete without something going disasterously wrong with the condo: last weekend, a leak from our apartment started damaging the apartment below ours and all our tenants have had quite the week.  It took until Friday to determine that the original leak might have been caused by the A/C unit freezing (lack of freon), then thawing and dropping condensation all over the floor of the utility closet (turns out there was a crack in the catch pan underneath the water heater) - and moreover, that our five-year-young water heater had a crack in it.  So new freon was added to the A/C unit and the entire water heater was replaced on Friday morning.  On Sunday, I received a call from the owner of the downstairs condo who proceeded to inform me that our apartment was leaking again.  Many angry phone calls later (to my disastrously incompetent management company and to others), we finally got a plumber to go back in and check on the A/C and water heater.  Turns out that the plumber is also disastrously incompetent: no one thought to check to make sure the condensate drain wasn't clogged, so things had backed up and more water leaked all over our downstairs neighbors' utility closet.  The plumber went and took care of that this morning and now all is well.  Well, well-ish anyway.  The next step is to determine if we actually needed to shell out money for a new water heater in the first place.  And to figure out who will actually be paying for all the damage to the downstairs unit.  But, as far as I'm concerned, the most pressing part of this issue is now past and Anthony and I can now move forward in pursuing a different management company - i.e. one that actually returns our phone calls.

So that was this weekend.  Last week I also said goodbye to at least 3 of my Foreign Service classmates - Stacey, who left us for Sierra Leone; Al, who hasn't quite left yet but will be off soon for Belize; and Max, my resident carpool driver, who left us for Nigeria.  It has been anti-climactic, to say the least.  Going through orientation and training is very similar to summer camp, wherein you're with a small group of people day-in and day-out, from the beginning of the work day to the late-night end of happy hour... Even on the weekends, there is a party, a tour, a hike, a dinner, whatever.  And then people just randomly (or so it seems to me) start to drift away to their overseas destinations.  We've had friends leave for Dubai, Hong Kong, Mexico City, South Korea, Jamaica, Brazil...our colleagues are all over the world these days.  It's hard to believe that we're not all still here, or even that we've only known each other since February.  What a wild, wonderful world the Foreign Service can be.

Ran out of time - gotta go get Chasity some lunch!