50 Shades of Beige

I arrived in Kabul without incident (not counting the 5 hour delay getting out of Dulles). Having served in Baghdad, my first reaction is to compare everything with that experience. In terms of the living situation, Baghdad wins hands down. That's not to say things are that bad here; in fact I'm fairly lucky. I have one of the nicer hooches, a storage container that has been converted into a "housing unit." I have a 30-second commute to my office, the gym, and the DFAC. The downside here is that so much stuff is crammed together and combined with all the closed-off construction sites, I feel like a rat in a maze. And my shoes will be destroyed before long. Some days I wouldn't mind wearing fatigues and boots every day like our military colleagues, rather than trying to pretend I'm in a normal work environment and wearing office clothes.

A 1-year tour doesn't give you the luxury of easing into the job and taking a few weeks to figure things out. So I hit the ground running. Grant work wouldn't normally appeal to me, but I'm pleased with the portfolio I have here. I'll get to do some interesting projects and the job allows me to get out of the embassy often enough to keep me from going stir crazy. In my first week here, I got out three times.

Four Cheap Umbrellas

I have three cheap umbrellas, one for each summer I've spent in DC. I keep forgetting about the summer rainstorms here, and so I never remember to pack an umbrella when I travel to DC. So when I packed out from Kathmandu five weeks ago, it was with great pride that I carefully placed my little green umbrella in my suitcase. It waited patiently, hidden in the bottom of my suitcase for a month of home leave. Then last week when I arrived in DC, I was so happy when I took it with me to Main State when the forecast said rain.

Then I promptly left it on the shuttle. I guess it's back to CVS to purchase cheap umbrella number four.

Nepal Lessons

I’ve travelled all over Nepal and have some fond – or, rather, interesting – memories that stand out. Some trips were personal, but most of my adventures in Nepal were official trips.

The road trips were the most educational part of my time in Nepal. I saw gorgeous views of lush green hills framed by the Himalayas. Beautiful birds and flowers. I also saw buses packed with people on the roof and abandoned trucks stuck in mud. I have done my personal business in places I would rather forget, and slept in beds that discouraged long-term stays.

During these road trips, my culinary experiences were usually pretty bland. Daal bhat or chow mein. After a week on the road and I never wanted to see rice or noodles again. But once in a while I would stumble upon something good. One time we stopped at a ramshackle tea house on the side of the road. We had a snack whose name I can’t spell and whose ingredients I can’t remember.  Sadly, I am resigned that I will never find that tasty treat again.

Speaking of food, while staying at “the best” hotel in Dhangadhi, it was too hot to leave my air conditioned room (I justified my laziness by telling myself that a hotel room with air conditioning was so rare, that I should enjoy it as much as possible), so I decided to order room service. The menu included hamburger, cheeseburger, chicken burger, etc. In a moment of foolish curiosity to see what a burger in a Hindu country might be (and an unwillingness to endure yet another daal bhat meal), I ordered a cheeseburger.  What arrived was two slices of bread… with a piece of cheese in between. Lesson learned.

Sometimes these trips taught me another kind of lesson. While in Jiri, I happened upon a funeral procession. A group of people was carrying a blanket-wrapped body, accompanied by musicians playing a melody that was difficult to discern, down to the river where they would set the pyre on fire. I asked another spectator how the person died and she told me he had been electrocuted. Another person had died the day before by drowning in the same river in which his body had been burned, and to which this stranger was being carried. Life is easily lost here.  Things I take for granted in America can kill you here. Faulty wiring, losing your balance while washing your clothes in the river, even diarrhea can be deadly.

It’s been an adventure. I can’t say that I enjoyed living in Kathmandu, but I’ve enjoyed exploring the country and having incredible experiences. I’m packing out soon and going on home leave, so I may not update this for a while.

See you in Kabul!

Spinster Diplomacy

As my time in Nepal comes to an end, I've been thinking about the work I've done here and forcing myself to honestly consider whether it's made a difference. While I can't boast about helping the government of Nepal get their act together (the political parties were unable to reach a deal on a new constitution and now the government has dissolved), I do think I've been able to make a small difference in how Nepalis regard America.

One of the controversial parts of public diplomacy work is that it's difficult to measure success. I think one measurement is the willingness of the host country to listen to what we have to say. Over time, our outreach efforts help us build credibility and develop an environment in which the public listens to us when we have something to say, rather than dismissing our message as "foreign interference." Of course, this is much easier to do in a country that is already favorably disposed to America.

I've travelled all over Nepal, engaged with thousands of Nepalis, and established friendships with a handful. While issuing press releases and posting messages on social media reach a large number of people (and seeing my words quoted in a newspaper never gets old), it has been the personal connections that I think have had the greatest impact. Swapping music with teenagers, sharing stories about my childhood at an American Corner, nominating a talented young woman for a prestigious exchange program to the States. These are what I'll remember most about my contributions in Nepal.

Most recently I met a young woman who works for an organization that assists survivors of human trafficking or domestic abuse. We started talking about the customs in that part of the country and what the expectations are for women of her age, religion, caste, etc. After listening to her for a while, I casually mentioned that I have never been married. She considered this for a moment and then her face lit up. "Oh, I'm so happy that I met you!" I don't think she had ever met a women who never married (certainly not one of my age) and to see a real-life example was shocking. She said so many girls are pressured to marry at a very young age, but she wants to get an education, pursue a career in social service, and continue living with and caring for her parents. I think she will fulfill that goal.