I hate the Dons

I am back in the office after what will definitely, probably, maybe, nah-it-won’t be my last beach weekend of the year. Ah, the beach. To use an Albanian saying, “I die for the beach”. And the beaches here are just so easy to access. You don’t have to worry about parking, you just park in the middle of the road and if cars need to pass while you are sunning, that is their problem. You are on holiday. If you have finished your 5 bottles of Amstel and the trash can is inconveniently distant (more than 2 meters away) just leave the beautiful, brown bottles to slowly dissolve into well-rounded beach-glass. The brown toe cutters contrasting with the white, bleached stones is striking.

Of course I am just picking on the Albanians. The beaches, despite their frequenters, still blow all other beaches out of the water. HA! Yes I said it, sucka. This July I made it back to the US after just over a year and a half and met family at Hilton Head Island, SC. HHI is so well planned, family friendly, perfectly designed for biking, and dignifiedly reserved. My wife’s family loves the island so much they have purchased multiple timeshare weeks there. I think it is great too. But HHI’s beaches are a poor comparison to the raw beauty found in Albania.

It’s not HHI’s fault. The poor island probably didn’t submit the proper paperwork for its location bid and was therefore assigned to the Atlantic Ocean, North America Division. Given a second shot, I am sure it would have opted to be halfway between the Adriatic and Ionian Seas so it might enjoy sandy beaches on its northern shore and stone beaches in the south (like Albania). And of course it would have requested a profile of jagged cliffs dropping dramatically into the sea (like Albania) instead of its slow, low, slope. And what respectable beach wouldn’t want water so glassy smooth and crystal clear that from the cliffs you can see the sea bottom, 20 feet deep, rapidly approaching as you dive head first into a turquoise mix of salty goodness and a fresh water spring (Albania again).

HHI is lacking in some other resources compared to Albania. Weddings for one. I have never been stuck in 30 minutes of traffic in HHI, or anywhere else in the US, as a wedding party of 10 cars decides to drive in the left lane because the right was just too slow moving, yelling, with a smile, “Open the road. It’s a wedding”. Ah but you should see when two wedding parties meet head on! It is a thing of beauty, the perfect storm. When this happens, both weddings are automatically cancelled and the brides and grooms must reapply for an asshole license the next year.

And poor HHI with its SUVs and minivans, station wagons and pick-up trucks. It seems like a welfare state when compared to the August influx of $100,000 Mercedes adorned with Italian, German, British and Greek plates from the prosperous Albanian immigrants who, though they left Albania without a high school education have obviously struck it rich in some honest industry. And why have they returned in August? To attend their second cousin’s milk distributor’s daughter’s wedding. And where MUST this precious ceremony of three days of circle dancing and lamb’s head consumption take place? Yes, a café on the beach. Hey brother, might as well park that Mercedes in the road while you’re at it. You’re on holiday and it’s a wedding !
NOTE: No one is going to read this blog, but somehow, some idiot will call me a judgmental racist just like people did when it was “suggested” that President Bush’s watch might have somehow slipped off his wrist while engulfed in his loving, Albanian mob in Kruja. Not all immigrants drive Mercedes (some have BMWs). Those that have neither German luxury automobile either left Albania with 1) an education or 2) to seek and education. They are the poor ones and must depend upon their cousin, Don Immigriano, for a ride. Respecte!

I die for the beach. But I think I can hold on for two more weeks when the curse of the Dons will be lifted and my (I say my. I have been here long enough) blessed beaches will be full of blue plastic bags, garter belts and Amstel bottles. But we will be free of so many of the want-to-be Scarfaces (funny that a Cuban is their idol being Dons and all). Now there are Dons that live here year round and drive Hummers with Ontario license plates, eat meat for all three meals, and drink coffee with their pinky extended, but they are another story that I won’t get around to. Could have implications on my own coffee consumption.

Job rewarding

A job rewarding – Juggling many countries – Where is the WC

No one knows what I do. I don't know what I do. How can I explain in 20 words or less, “I developed a capacity assessment tool for national level and field staff to develop skills in maternal and child health”? Ok, so I just explained it in 20 words but that was only 2 hours out of my day today.

What about the other 6ish hours in the day, 6ish days a week, and 51 months a year? I use my 20 days annual leave and if you don't use yours, your problem.

Because I can't give a run down of what I do all the time, I am going to make a list of what is in hand this week. My inbox regardless of deadlines and sorted by country:

Afghanistan – preparing my 7 day workshop on community mobilization to address health and social issues
Armenia – follow-up on their maternal and child health proposal and potential capacity building
Albania – assessment plan for a water and sanitation project, consultation on child growth monitoring
Bosnia – same as Armenia
Georgia (former Soviet Republic of, not my home town next-door neighbor) – virtual management of their health and HIV programing
Jerusalem – banging my head against the wall and my fists against the keyboard to “encourage” them to revise their proposal (see Armenia). This experience has provided further insight into the current relations in that part of the world.
Jordan – the love of my week, and a breath of fresh, dry, hot, dusty air. Reading their latest docs for a water assessment and seeing how to turn it into a proposal for AUSAID.
Lebanon – putting together their capacity building assessment and designing the health assessment for their Palestinian camps
Pakistan – keeping my head down and powder dry, but mostly providing resources on for their child survival proposal
Romania – not much this week and that is not a good thing. My comrades have gone AWOL. Apparently glasnost is dead and buried a Dell netbook.

A note – it is Tuesday night. 3 more days of possibilities. Will Kosovo call with a request? Will Uzbekistan awake from their coma? Answers to these questions and more on the next episode of...

My biggest complaint about this workload is that I am stuck in the office right now. For the past 6 months I have seen about 20 countries. Some great, some that Jesus would have told me to shake the dirt off of my sandals. It looks like I won't get back in the field for another month or so and I have to tell you, I ain't happy.

From my salty lips

From my salty lips - It's the not so earnest truth - Here for you to read

I took a cold shower when I got home because that is the best thing to do after a hot walk home from work. Then sit down on an different computer than the one I have been working on since it was cool this morning a write my first post of this blog.

Other perks to summer than a cool shower:

1) Cold watermelon that I bought and cut last night into bit size pieces. One 100 leke ($1) for the melon, and cutting it was free.

2) A $2 good haircut is instant relief from the heat. I did that tonight on the way home as well. The barber shop is 83 steps from the downstairs entrance to the building.

3) An excuse to drink a liter of cold water not that you ever need an excuse, but it is nice to have one.

Meanwhile, I am listening to Alabama and being nostalgic of June Jams in Fort Payne, Alabama. Waiting for October and a road trip to northwest GA with a brother I haven't seen since he shipped out for Afghanistan. That was four years ago, and since then he has returned to the US, left the Navy, and shipped back out to Iraq as a civilian.

The watermelon was great.