July 25: The Grass is Not Greener...

Earlier, I wrote about our wasteful grassy field. Now that I have some new information on the history behind the Grass Initiative, I'd like to revisit this topic for just a moment (one small but important disclaimer: this information did not come from official Embassy sources. It's all heresay).

The Embassy first attempted to plant the grass from seed. Well, the grass didn’t grow but the pigeons had a feast. So they made a second, third, fourth, and fifth attempt at planting birdfeed grass seed, but always with the same results.

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again 

and expecting different results."
~Albert Einstein

Apparently, someone finally noticed that the pigeons were getting a bit plump, so they decided to use two cardboard scarecrows from a previous Halloween party as deterrents.

OK people. These are not ordinary pigeons. These are Iraqi pigeons. They've flown through mortar fire, car bombs, and IED attacks. You think they’re going to be afraid of some paper clowns???

Needless to say, it didn’t work (though I'm sure the pigeons enjoyed the convenient stoop as they feasted on their imported grass seed).

At this point, it was determined that growing grass from seed was futile, and a new strategy was adopted: importing sod. Yes, they brought in tens of thousands of square feet of sod. By air.



Operation Sod did not get off to a good start. Here's a synopsis:

• Attempt #1: The sod dies immediately. Cause of death: Shock and awe
• Attempt #2: The sod dies within two weeks. Cause of death: Unknown
• Attempt #3: In an attempt to keep the sod from dying for the third time, the gardeners water it every other hour... The sod dies of over-watering.
• Attempt #4: Mission Accomplished.

So now we have grass in the desert, but hey, why stop there? To enhance the beauty of this new imported grass, wouldn't it be awesome to accent the field with imported palm trees?  Yes, there are palm trees in Iraq, but hey, go big or go home.  Our grassy field is now flanked by 19 imported palm trees. And how much would you guess it costs to import palm trees to Iraq?

TWELVE. THOUSAND. DOLLARS.

Each.

July 20: Shlunak, Shlu-not

My first attempt at using the Arabic language was a bit of a failure. Indrani and I went to meet a recently returned exchange program alumnus. Although we had a translator, I decided to spread the wings of my 7-word vocabulary and give him a traditional Iraqi greeting. Here's a brief synopsis of our conversation:

Praya:  Shlunak! (literally translates to “How is your color?” but it means “How are you?”)

Confused Iraqi: Uhhh, excuse?

Praya: (a little less confidently) Shlunak?

Confused Iraqi: Uhhh, so sorry. No speak the language.

Hmmm… Perhaps he’s from the Kurdish area and doesn’t speak Arabic, I thought... But when our translator came over and began a rapid-fire conversation in Arabic with my no-longer-confused Iraqi friend, I realized that the problem wasn't with him, it was with me!

I mispronounced the greeting so badly that he didn't even recognize it as Arabic. Talk about a confidence buster. It made me think back to the day when Aaron came home from Arabic class, frustrated because he had just described my occupation as a Program Pickle for the Peace Corps (the words for "pickle" and "analyst" sound nearly identical to the unaccustomed ear). I can definitely relate.

For the record, this is the second time this has happened to me while learning a language. My first month as a Peace Corps volunteer, I tried REALLY hard to master the traditional response to “How are you?”.  I had little kids repeat it over and over so I could get my tongue around the unfamiliar intonations.

Where's Waldo?

I remember vividly the afternoon I decided my language was ready for a test drive. With a dose of confidence, I walked to the market to buy a pack of Omo (the psychedelic blue laundry powder ubiquitous across West Africa). My market friend smiled wide when he saw me coming, and our conversation went something like this:

Market friend: Obruni! Woho tesen? (Lady from over the horizon! How are you?)

Praya: Nyame adon, eye! (By God’s grace, OK!)

Market friend: (looking at me inquisitively) Ahhh, that is very nice, Obruni!

Praya: (beaming with self-pride) Thank you!

Market friend: But tell me, what language are you speaking?

Praya: Say what?

I finally learned to speak Twi somewhat respectably, but Arabic is on another level. For every way to express something in English, there are ten ways in Arabic. But the positive side of my complete failure of a first attempt to speak Arabic is that it got a lot of laughs. Aaron used my story to break the ice with a new journalist contact, and I used it to help my colleague, Rusha (whose is self conscious about her English), understand that there's always someone with a smaller sail.

Later that night, we met up with our Jordanian friend, Emad, and I recounted my tale of Arabic failure. After laughing for a bit too long, he explained very seriously that intonations were very important in Arabic, and that one small change could completely throw off the meaning of a word, and land you in one pickle of a situation, so to speak... After my lecture, he presented us with a small gift from his recent trip to Amman:

"Aaron and Praya" is spelled out in Arabic in the sand

It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture, and the perfect pick-me-up after a challenging day, especially when I saw what was written on the reverse side... A great reminder that as we stumble along the path of learning a new language, we must not forget to stop and laugh at the occasional pickle.

This Braya chic better watch out. There's only one pickle for Aaron.

July 13: Our First Diplomatic Reception (as the Snipes)

On Tuesday evening, we went to our first diplomatic reception as Mr. and Mrs!

This was the third diplomatic reception we attended together.  The very first reception was actually the day after we met!

May 2005, US Embassy Addis Ababa

(Little did we suspect that we were standing next to our future spouse...)

June 2007, Meridian International House, Washington DC

(Pondering future spousehood...)

July 2010, US Embassy Baghdad

Mr. and Mrs. Snipe at last!

Sometimes, diplomatic receptions can be a little boring, but this was a great evening. It was in honor of the Iraqi Fulbright nominees preparing to embark on 1-2 years of study or teaching in the United States. The Fulbright program provides full tuition scholarships and/or stipends as well as ongoing support to promising students & teachers around the world. We met a lot of impressive Iraqis and ate a lot of tasty finger food!

 Here we are with Fateema, who is going to Bluefield, West Virginia to teach Arabic for one year at the University of West Virginia. She's four and a half feet of bubbly excitement and charm (we were kneeling down in this shot)!

The woman on the right is going to North Dakota for two years to study Chemistry (the other woman is her mother, who was in the middle of asking Aaron if he could get her son-in-law a visa to the United States).

 Muhammed is going to Old Dominion University for two years to study Epidemiology:

We met others going to all corners of the country: Montana, Houston, Mississippi, Michigan, Scranton... They had the most interesting questions-- one gentleman was completely baffled that they were sending him to a Catholic university because he had no context for understanding what that actually meant. He had also heard that men and women live together in dormitories, and was concerned that he would have a female roommate. Many were excited to see snow for the first time, and were curious about things they could do on the weekends-- except for one engineering student headed to Philadelphia-- I told him there were a lot of historical sites to see in Philly, but he said he wouldn't leave his studies for a single moment-- not for the entire two years! Now that's dedication.

All in all, a wonderful evening.

July 12: What We Do

Many have asked, “what exactly do you guys do besides eat?”. Good Question. I admit my reporting has been a bit food-oriented to date. So here’s the short version of what we’re doing over here.

First, a little crash course in diplomacy: There are 4 main sections of an Embassy:

1.       Political: handles the relationship between the U.S. and the country (e.g. government formation, human rights, etc)
2.       Economic: deal with issues like food security, trade negotiations, energy, and climate change
3.       Consular: they issue visas to people who want to immigrate or visit the US, and provide services to American citizens in country( e.g. replacing lost passports, ensuring imprisoned Americans are treated humanely)
4.       Public Affairs: they deal with the press, media, and administer cultural and educational programs (e.g. student exchange programs, Fulbright Scholars)

Aaron and I work in Public Affairs. At Embassy Baghdad, there are two sections in Public Affairs:  the Information Office (where Aaron works), and the Cultural Affairs Office (where I work)

Aaron is the Information Officer for the Embassy:

Doesn't he look offiical?

When I realized he was talking to his best friend Eric and not some journalist, I decided to go in and bother him (I'm not a great hand-outstretched picture taker, but how about that lovely printer in the background?).

He works on the press side of Public Affairs, and oversees the Arabic and Western media coverage of the United States presence in Iraq. He has a staff of 6 press officers (3 for Arabic media, and 3 for Western media) who liaise with journalists and monitor the press coverage related to the U.S. and Iraq. He’s also the deputy spokesperson for the Embassy, and meets with journalists, speaks on behalf of the USG about our policy, and helps prepare the Ambassador for interviews with the various news agencies.

I am a Cultural Affairs Specialist in the Cultural Affairs Section:

And here I am working hard (what do you mean I don’t look natural? This is how I pose all day).

And here’s my favorite visitor:

I help manage one of the Embassy’s cultural exchange program: the International Visitors Leadership Program (known as the IVLP). IVLP is one of the Dept of State’s professional exchange programs. Each year, about 4,000 men & women travel to the States through IVLP for short-term visits (anywhere from 2 days to three weeks) to meet with U.S. professionals in their field and experience the wonderful diversity of the red, white, and blue! The best thing about my job is that I get to meet a lot of interesting Iraqis and hear how the program has had an impact on their personal and professional life. Many heads of State have gone though the IVLP (here's a list of a few of them). And of course, there are also IVLP alumni who because famous for less than admirable reasons (e.g. Charles Taylor).

But what does this have to do with that public health degree that just cost me $40,000, you might ask?

Well, not much. In fact, nothing at all. But this was my ticket to Baghdad (spouses can’t come unless they also work at the Embassy) and we are never doing the long-distance thing again.

But alas, all is not lost! I’m also working with the health office within the Baghdad reconstruction team on a number of very exciting projects. I’ve started work on a health surveillance project and some statistical analysis on a study they want to get published. My brain is busy!

And another positive thing: we have great colleagues! They had a combined welcome/ goodbye party for new and departing staff:  

 I work mainly with Indrani (standing next to me in the blue shirt), and Aaron replaced the gentleman next to Indrani (the one sporting the Donald Trump 'do).

Here is the whole Public Affairs team:

But where's Aaron?? He bailed on the festivities! But for good reason-- while we were feasting on  Doritos and Fanta Orange, he was across town meeting with an Iraqi journalist:

July 11: Surf & Turf Night at the DFAC

Something very exciting happened today and it’s called Surf & Turf night. Every Sunday at the DFAC (short for dining facility), it's all-you-can-eat prime rib and LOBSTER TAILS!!

Here are a few shots of our lovely DFAC. As you walk in, you have the main entree line:

Then you have the meat-cutting station-- Here's the friendly meat slicer on roast turkey night:
   

There's also a "Healthy Heart" bar, specialty food bar (a rotation of food like tacos, deli sandwiches, Indian food), grill, fruit-cutting station (you pick the fruit and they cut it all up for you!), ice-cream bar, dessert bar, and salad bar. Here's the salad bar:

But let's get back to Surf& Turf night: I didn’t get my hopes up. I knew this wasn’t Legal Sea Foods. I was fully expecting that lobster in Iraq would taste some kind of awful. But I have to say, it was kind of delicious. Aaron had prime rib, mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a side salad. I had 4 lobster tails and three olives. ·      

As I was eating my lobster, I couldn’t help but remember the very first time I ate a lobster tail.  I was about 8 and my parents took me & my sister to the Quail Inn, which, in the eyes of a 8 and 10 year old, was the pinnacle of high society.

Praeme & Praya, 1985

This was before my adorable baby sister and baby brother came into the world:

Mom & Danielle, 1986

Christopher, 1990

As my dad was helping me select something from the kids' menu (my favorite was the fish stick boat and salad bar), I glanced over to the other side & saw the lobster. “Whoa! A lobster tail costs $19! That’s like 3 Barbie dolls!” I exclaimed (my mom had just spent the summer teaching us  multiplication tables). My dad, ever the adventurer, said excitedly “Get the lobster!”

Gerard Baruch: Adventurous Science teacher, tie wearer, and Dad, circa 1970s

 I remember thinking, couldn’t I get the 3 new Barbie dolls instead? But, my dad was so excited about the lobster, and it was so unbelievable to think of eating something as fancy as lobster, that I happily agreed.

The first problem came when my dad pointed out the waiter fishing a lobster from the tank. “Hey! That’s probably your lobster!”
Say what???
I should have insisted on the 3 Barbie dolls.
But, I put it out of my little child mind and regained my excitement for the extraordinary feast I was about to be served!

The lobster came, and my dad proudly directed the waiter to put it in front of me. The waiter looked dubious, but my dad had a twinkle in his eye. He showed me how to dip in butter, and sat back to watch his youngest daughter enjoy her first taste of the good life.

I bit into my sweet little lobster friend, who was swimming around with his friends just 20 minutes ago, whose carcass was depriving me of DreamGirl Barbie and her 2 sisters… and I couldn’t swallow. You see, to tastebuds that have only known Gorton’s Fishermen fish sticks and mom’s baked mystery fish, lobster tastes some kind of awful. It was the worst tasting thing I had ever known (and I was known for licking our pet gerbils). So I happily chewed until my dad looked away & then spat it out in my napkin. Slowly, throughout dinner, I dropped the rest of the lobster, bit by bit, into my napkin until the shell was empty. My dad excitedly asked, “Wasn’t that phenomenal!?!”. I didn’t want to disappoint, so I happily agreed and took my napkin to the bathroom. I had to pass the lobster tank on the way to the bathroom, and it seemed like all the lobsters were looking at me, as I guiltily held the remains of their little friend in my napkin.  I flushed the little guy down the toilet, came back to the table feeling relieved, and happily feasted on my sister’s kiddie fish stick boat.

I’ve come a long way in 25 years.

As I was sharing this story with Aaron over dinner, he reminded me of one his childhood food memories. Much like my sister,  Praeme (a self-proclaimed vegetarian with the exception of bacon), Aaron loves bacon.

 (This would have been under the Christmas tree if they hadn’t sold out):

When Aaron’s mom would make bacon for breakfast, he would always finish his first.
 

In an attempt to exploit his mother’s undying love to satisfy his own love for bacon, he would draw his mom into a conversation that went something like this:

Aaron: “Mom, do you love me?”
CCC: “Of course I love you, my precious one!”
Aaron: “Would you do anything for me?”
CCC: “ANYTHING!”
Aaron: “Then will you give me your last piece of bacon?”
CCC: “What!?!?”
Aaron: “You said you loved me and would do anything for me!”
CCC: “Sweetheart, what does MY last piece of bacon have to do with loving you?”
Aaron: “But you already said it!”

Aaron has given up this little trick as an adult. Now he just makes extra bacon.

July 10: FOB Union & Camp Prosperity

So our internet went out on Saturday, which was fine with me because I had a good book, a good Scrabble partner, and a jar of salsa. The day was looking good. But our plans for a lazy Saturday got pleasantly interrupted by two of Aaron’s colleagues--  Albert, an Iraqi American who works with Aaron as an Arabic media officer, and Marooj, the Ambassador’s interpreter, invited us on a little outing to Camp Prosperity and Camp Union. These are two big military camps that occupy two of Saddam’s former palace grounds. They are right down the street from the Embassy Compound, but we have to take a car there (not just any car-- an armored SUV) and always go in groups. It was quite the adventure! No pictures allowed, but I found some that are cleared. Here is the entrance to Camp Prosperity:

It was pretty surreal to see these palatial castles riddled with bullet holes.

In his heyday, Saddam had 52 palace grounds—each with MULTIPLE palaces—throughout the country. Can you believe the excess?
We ended the night at a  falafel & kabob restaurant. It was so nice to eat a non-buffet meal! Although the lamb kabobs were undercooked (thank you Peace Corps for my stomach of steel!), everything was great. I saved our first kabob stick because I’m going to start a collection of first-meal-in-a-new-country mementos.

July 7: Iraq: It's the Bomb!

We're not allowed to take photos, but I found some pics on the internet that have been cleared,  so here's a better look at our new neighborhood:

The New Embassy Compound (the NEC for short) is nestled within the Green Zone. Apparently, the Tigris River is right across from us, but I'll believe it when I see it. Seriously, the climate is so arid that my hair dries within the 5 minute walk to work in the morning (bright side: we never get sweaty!).

To enter the Green Zone, you have to go through a maze of checkpoints and security measures, so it's a relatively safe area of Baghdad. But nothing compares to the NEC. It is a formidable fortress. I can't go into specific security procedures, but sufficed to say we feel very well protected. The security to employee ratio is unbelievably high.

Here are some shots of our peach-colored world:

These are some the diplomatic residences-- there are 6 buildings in all, housing 1,200 people:

All of the buildings & windows are reinforced to withstand bombs, bullets, and other mayhem & foolishness.

And this is where we work. The only difference between when this picture was taken and now is that they planted grass where you see all the dirt... I can't imagine how much time & money it takes to maintain it. If I were in charge, I would have laid down some astro turf and called it a day.

Some shots from the dedication ceremony (I think it's pretty cool to work in a building that wears sunglasses)

We spend most of our time between three places: the office, our apartment, and the recreation center. The "Rec" is where the gym, swimming pool, post office, barber shop, beauty shop, mini-mart, and fast food places are located.

Here is the lovely pool. And btw, Aaron is teaching me how to swim! Apparently, he doesn't think holding your nose and swimming with one arm is proper form... I beg to differ.

There's also a basketball court, though I've never seen anyone use it:

After a multi-year campaign, Aaron has finally convinced me to go to the gym more than once every two years. I'm not sure how I feel about this new lifestyle, but the picture of my three-foot-wide thigh certainly helps to motivate.

 And when you're tired of the DFAC food, you can go to Subway, Pizza Hut, or Green Bean (the only food that isn't free).

So there you have it, home sweet claustrophobic home. Aaron summed it up well the other day when he described the feeling of living here as being on a cruise ship that never docks. You stuck in a confined space, you see the same people wherever you go, the food is free and all-you-can-eat, there's a lot of waste, and the beds are just a little too hard.

But in all seriousness, the hardest thing (besides the constant noise in our apartment that sounds like a band of South Africans blowing their vuzuvulas) is getting used to the enormous environmental footprint of the Embassy. Don't get me wrong, I worship the air conditioning. But everything is styrofoam and nothing is recycled... The dryers are poorly vented so it takes ~ 70 minutes to dry a load of clothes. If the sun dries my hair in 5 minutes, imagine how fast it would dry our sheets! And we have water heaters, which just tops the banana cake!!!  Housing the water tanks on the roof would provide an endless supply of boiling hot water, so why oh why is it electrically heated??

July 5: Home Sweet Home

Our new home! For the most part, it's very comfortable. Almost everyone has to share apartments with a roommate, which seems to be the #1 cause of stress (even more so than mortar fire). Our apartment is one of the special couples' apartments-- we have a living room, dining area, kitchen, bathroom, lots of closets, and a bedroom. In the other apartments, each person has their own bedroom but they share the kitchen and bathroom (and there's no living room). We feel pretty fortunate to have a rather normal living space. And here it is!

This is our dining area, which is the first space you see upon entering the apartment:

And just to the left of the front door is our kitchen:



And our living room (right past the dining area). I know it looks kind of barren, but we shipped a bunch of cheap frames to display our favorite family pics on the walls. It should look more like a home soon:



Our entertainment system is on the wall facing the maroon sofa. We have about 100 channels, but most of them are very strange...


Our bathroom:



And bedroom:


Lots of lovely closet space! Woo Hoo!


So there are a few strange things about our place. First, we live on the top floor, right below the main air conditioning unit for the building. There is a constant engine noise that sounds kind of like the Star Trek Starship USS Enterprise. Aaron doesn't notice it but it drives me BANANAS. I'm trying to make peace with it, but I keep dreaming about Captain Picard and the Klingon empire.

The second strangest thing about our new place is that they gave us a FULLY stocked kitchen. Dishwasher, pots, pans, food processor, hand-held mixer, Pyrex dishes... We even have a turkey roaster! These amenities would certainly be convenient if we had access to a grocery store, but we don't. Just a huge dining facility that's kind of like eating at the Golden Corral for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There is, however, a small convenience store that sells household goods, DVDs, snacks, and frozen dinners, but they don't sell anything you can actually cook (except for frozen turkeys... go figure).

So given the fact that we have no real need for a kitchen, I repurposed some of the kitchenware throughout the apartment.

My earring holder is our former cereal bowl.

The condiment drawers from the refrigerator are now toiletry organizers in the bathroom.



And we decided to move the kitchen mat into the bathroom... This was actually more of a common sense repurpose than a creative one. Here's the tag from the kitchen mat (which was placed right in front of the OVEN!)


I hope our neighbors are cautious when they're cooking those frozen turkeys.

The third strangest thing about our apartment is that the designers ensured that every room had at least a few touches of extraneous tackiness. Take this lamp, for example:

It was a perfectly fine lamp before someone decided to use taxpayer dollars to add a snappy little wave of poorly-welded metal on the side. Why, people?



And the last strangest thing about our apartment is that it has completely changed Aaron's sleeping habits. Aaron is, by far, the lightest sleeper I have ever known. True story: one night I woke him up by stretching my toes! But now, he sleeps like a ROCK. I think the spaceship/ air conditioner sound actually lulls him to sleep. I can turn lights on, make noises, and stretch my toes to my heart's oblivion and he doesn't stir a bit. He's also started talking in his sleep, but in Arabic! I have no idea what he's saying, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the United Federation of Planets.