Los Libros

Lately I've been reading a lot. I know many FSOs and world travelers who gorge themselves on a ton of books (or internet sites or whatever) about their future assignment from the moment that they discover that they're going to a new place in order to learn every single thing that they can before going. These people probably are very much more prepared to live and navigate the culture that they're about to enter. My motives for reading are a bit more escapist in nature. Though I'm learning and trying to remember all the lessons that a new diplomat needs to be sent out into the world, in the quiet of evening I try to decompress and turn to the content of my bookshelves. There are always a few travelogues or Lonely Planet guides... but far more numerous are books from genres only tangentially related to travel. You're far more likely to see me reading a classic (or maybe not so classic) science fiction or fantasy novel than a book exploring the political culture of country X,Y, or Z.  My audiobook queue is filled with David McCullough books on the history of great American people or their works. 

The thing about these genres (history, science fiction, fantasy) is that they make you think. Science fiction and fantasy are all about the counterfactuals. What if the world or the laws of nature were different? What will the world or galaxy or universe be in 10, 50, 100, or 1000 years? Really they're both genres on a continuum that goes from plausible to extraordinary. Meanwhile, histories force us to examine and reexamine the meaning of our culture and worldview. In looking to the past, we hope to gain some insight for future paths. As a great philosopher once said (somewhat ironically echoing the sayings of older philosphers) "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." 

Which brings us back to books. I've lately had some rather broad discussions with the spouse and others on the utility of paper books. I understand the portability factor of e-readers and the interactive interface that makes looking up a word (foreign or otherwise) with the touch of a finger. And I admit to using my tiny little iphone more and more for quick web browsing. But it's going to be a long and painful process for me to abandon the printed word. I feel a tremendous feeling of awe and anticipation when I open a book for the first time. There're so many possibilities that could be contained within it. And from a very early age I was taught that the library is a sacred space for our civilization. 

So I will continue to read, and continue to learn, and continue to think about the what ifs of this world. It's my way of preventing calcification and cynicism. And this messed up world could use a little optimism and what ifs, I think.

Los Trabajadores

Unlike most of the rest of the world, the United States celebrates its workers in September rather than May first. Although the urban legend is that we do this because we didn't want to be communists, the truth is that we wanted to divorce what should be a tranquil holiday for working-men and women from the anniversary of an unfortunate incident involving bomb-toting anarchists. Regardless, I like to spend the holiday at least briefly reflecting about what it means to work in this country.

So much is tied up in the concept of work in this culture. How many times have we heard the phrase "work for a living?" It is a peculiar twist of fate that we seem to have decided to leave out the word "wage" from that phrase. By eliding the concept of the "living wage" we conveniently can forget that the limits on the capitalist system that exist for the benefit of all were put into place via a movement where workers banded together and stated that they would not be exploited any more. This after a century or so of modern exploitation, preceded by centuries of rigid class immobility and little to no concept of a meritocracy. And that's just the history of "Western" economic exploitation. I won't even get into the perils of mercantilism, colonization, and unrestrained monopolies/oligarchies. 

It's important to commemorate the progress that has been made in society. Things like the Forty Hour Work Week, the Eight-hour day, weekends, child labor laws, occupational health and safety laws and more. We sometimes scoff at how arbitrary it all seems. And how restrictive some of the labor protection laws are. Managers and business owners are often tempted to skirt some of the laws in the name of better productivity and increased output. But there is sound data that indicates a broad consensus on how much work can and should be squeezed out of the average person.  Safety protections are generally there for a reason.  

I'm happy that we have Labor Day, because this is the day to stop working and think about the conditions of our workers. It's not just a day for barbecues and transitioning from summer to fall. The day means something special to all those people that sacrificed their laws to put a system in place to make life a little better for future generations. And for the people that continue to fight for their rights and the rights of their fellow workers. 

La Lingua de la Familia

Ever since I encountered someone who didn't speak English at home (probably in Kindergarten) I've been fascinated with bilingual families, immigrant or otherwise. In a way, my inner drive to join the Foreign Service stems from two factors relating to this fascination: 1) the urge to be the first person to welcome immigrant families to what I consider one of the greatest clubs in the world, American Citizenship, and 2)a somewhat less altruistic goal to understand what the heck all those people are saying right in front of me in a language I can't understand. Over time I think my motivations have moved more from motivation 2 (lets call it the Nosy Norman phenomenon) towards motivation 1 (the Welcoming Wilma that I think should live within all Consular Officers).

When I was a child, Nosy Norman was definitely a huge part of my personality. My first best friend was Indian-American, and Nosy Norman manifested in my constant questioning of his culture, the history of his parents, and what the lyrical words of Gujarati that he would reel off to his parents meant. Were they talking about me right in front of my face? Turns out, generally no, people mostly talk about the same things from day to day, regardless of language. Gossip yes, but usually what my friend's mom was telling him was that he needed to do his homework or what they were going to have for dinner that night. Nosy Norman's interest was constantly being evoked, however, when my friend would tell stories of how boring it was to go to the Hindu storytime sessions that his father would hold for the local Indian expatriate/immigrant community. I had to be careful not to let Jealous Jimmy take Nosy Norman to the extremes, even though I would have this irrational moment of anger that basically said "how DARE you not recognize how awesome and unique this cultural experience is in our really, really white bland little mountain town, and why don't I have an awesome immigrant father who can tell me stories from the old country?!?!?"

Throughout U.S. history, immigrants have had to strike that balance between integrating into/adopting the dominant culture and maintaining their individual ties to and cultural memory of the "old country." In my case, I think that my great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents consciously made the decision to minimize their Italian and German heritage, probably as a result of World War I and II. So by the time I was growing up, my "immigrant" experience was limited to half-remembered stories and a fondness for Pasta Fagioli. All that is to say that I'm happy that we're not really living in pre-1960s America, where the goal for many families seems to have been "be the blandest, meat and potatoes, Cleaver family that you can possibly be." Over-generalization, I know, but I do feel glad that we're living in an age where being different or having a different set of cultural touchstones is celebrated, rather than condemned.

And so we turn to Welcoming Wilma, who I hope will become a larger and larger part of my personality as I move forward in my career. Oh I'll still continue to have that secret thrill when I overhear someone speaking in X language that I know and I can smile to myself and think "I KNOW what you're saying!" But even if I'm serving in a place where I don't have a clue what people are saying (entirely possible in my line of work) it's still going to tug at my heart each time I'm able to say, with full sincerity, "congratulations, your visa has been approved. Welcome to America." Although I know that not every consular officer feels the same, almost every one that I've met has had a heartwarming story about reuniting families or approving that one visa that they knew would make a difference in people's lives. Especially if I'm going to make this a long-term career, I hope that Welcoming Wilma will stick around for the duration. I know that an open attitude is what makes this a career worth having. 

New Beginnings

It seems cliche to say that no one really knows where the world will take them. But in my case, this saying is absolutely true. I've decided to start this blog to talk about my life, my travels, and my thoughts.  I'm beginning writing at a time of transition. I've been trying for 9 years to join the U.S. Foreign Service, and today is the day that I finally got the offer to join an orientation class. Oh internets!  I cannot promise you that I will always be able to tell you what I'm doing or be entirely frank about how much I hate/love X about the people in Y country, as the State Department is pretty strict about these sorts of things, but I will try to make this blog something worth reading.

I think I'll probably end up writing some retrospective posts introducing myself over the next little while, but the short story is this: I'm in my late 20s, currently working at the U.S. Consulate in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico... one of the most dangerous cities in the world, right across the border from El Paso, Texas... one of the "safest" cities in the U.S. I'm here because my spouse is also a diplomat serving a tour here to fulfill the State Department's requirement that an entry-level officer work for a time doing visa/consular work. Before coming here I worked in D.C. at the State Department and the Department of Labor. Before joining the Foreign Service, I developed budgets, catalogued letters from Saul Bellow's mistresses, audited and paid millions of dollars of freight bills weekly for a major tech company, researched the development of democracy in colonial possessions, learned Ottoman (a dead language), fell in love with transportation planning, and married the love of my life, who I met while studying abroad in Morocco. And more. 

And so, I'm happy to finally put this disclaimer on my blog and join the growing ranks of FSO (Foreign Service Officer) bloggers. May I not disappear:

The views expressed in this blog are those of the authors and not those of the U.S. government of any agency or department of that government.