So, I should be in bed, so that I can wake up at 5 a.m. and potentially go hot air ballooning, but more about that in a moment.
We spent a large part of today at Askania Nova, a large nature preserve about a two hours' drive west of Kherson. The giant biosphere is in Kherson oblast (state) and is situated in the dry Tavriya steppe. The park is beautifully preserved with lush green grasses for the larger animals to graze on, and a beautiful arboretum and largely open zoo for the many species of birds to flock around. There were hundreds of peacocks, a small flock of zebras, a herd of American bison, African antelopes and many other fascinating creatures roaming as though you were on safari. Pictures will come late Friday, as tomorrow is our last day at work in Kherson.
In the morning, the US partners and my Ukrainian colleague are planning on flying in hot air balloons just outside Kherson. I've agreed to join them at least to watch and (if I'm feeling brave enough and don't see the balloon pilots taking side swigs of vodka) go up myself. Mostly, however, I didn't want to sleep in as tomorrow night we'll be taking another overnight train back to Kyiv and I'd really like to be able to sleep most of the way there. Though hopefully Nyquil will also help with that.
Pictures and more to come over the weekend.
5.25.2009
strasvutsye (Hi, in Russian)
A few observations about Ukraine:
1. It feels very much like being in Armenia, only with more Russian. In fact, almost as much Russian as Ukrainian. Though the languages are similar, they are still two different tongues. That said, the southern and eastern parts of the country identify more with Russia, whereas the west aligns itself more closely with Europe and is proud of its uniquely Ukrainian heritage. Here in Kherson, far in the south of the country, all you hear and see is Russian. Svita, my IREX partner in crime, says she seems to be the only one speaking Ukrainian around here. Even the TV station with which we're working broadcasts in Russian. Which brings me to my second observation:
2. I may be fluent in Russian by the end of the week. I've started tuning out our excellent translators as I seem to be picking up more and more words. After two months of media research in Armenia, I learned all the Russian words for media there (redaktor=editor, registor=director, operator=cameraman, montage=editing.) As our partners describe their activities or ask questions of their American counterparts, these common words fly out to me and seem to wave a flag in front of my face as though to say: "See! You know us! You understand us!" It's strangely comforting.
3. Finally, I feel I've really put the knowledge and skills I've built since moving to DC to use. A combination of my research project in Armenia, which led to my master's thesis, and the coursework I chose for my degree have really helped me to shape all the discussions we've had so far about telecommunications, spectrum, the impact of the Soviet Union on its former states' media systems, and geopolitical and other pressures journalists face in this part of the world. In addition, my background as a journalist in the US has been a huge boon for working with the two U.S. partners we're hosting this week from a TV station in Kentucky. I can better explain to them why the standards for journalism that they're used to may not be the norm here.
4. While this experience so far has been totally fulfilling and engaging, I'm still not convinced the NGO life is the one for me. It's also yet another reminder of how much I miss journalism and a life of deadlines. Am I ready to go back to the newsroom yet? Not quite. At least, not while I can still take a few more trips like this one on somebody else's dime.
Stay tuned for more tomorrow...
1. It feels very much like being in Armenia, only with more Russian. In fact, almost as much Russian as Ukrainian. Though the languages are similar, they are still two different tongues. That said, the southern and eastern parts of the country identify more with Russia, whereas the west aligns itself more closely with Europe and is proud of its uniquely Ukrainian heritage. Here in Kherson, far in the south of the country, all you hear and see is Russian. Svita, my IREX partner in crime, says she seems to be the only one speaking Ukrainian around here. Even the TV station with which we're working broadcasts in Russian. Which brings me to my second observation:
2. I may be fluent in Russian by the end of the week. I've started tuning out our excellent translators as I seem to be picking up more and more words. After two months of media research in Armenia, I learned all the Russian words for media there (redaktor=editor, registor=director, operator=cameraman, montage=editing.) As our partners describe their activities or ask questions of their American counterparts, these common words fly out to me and seem to wave a flag in front of my face as though to say: "See! You know us! You understand us!" It's strangely comforting.
3. Finally, I feel I've really put the knowledge and skills I've built since moving to DC to use. A combination of my research project in Armenia, which led to my master's thesis, and the coursework I chose for my degree have really helped me to shape all the discussions we've had so far about telecommunications, spectrum, the impact of the Soviet Union on its former states' media systems, and geopolitical and other pressures journalists face in this part of the world. In addition, my background as a journalist in the US has been a huge boon for working with the two U.S. partners we're hosting this week from a TV station in Kentucky. I can better explain to them why the standards for journalism that they're used to may not be the norm here.
4. While this experience so far has been totally fulfilling and engaging, I'm still not convinced the NGO life is the one for me. It's also yet another reminder of how much I miss journalism and a life of deadlines. Am I ready to go back to the newsroom yet? Not quite. At least, not while I can still take a few more trips like this one on somebody else's dime.
Stay tuned for more tomorrow...
5.24.2009
first day in Ukraine
Made it here safely, but have not had a proper night's sleep since leaving DC 48 hours ago, so I won't write much tonight. I'll leave my pictures to explain. Check them out here. One highlight, I may have a new man in my life:
5.10.2009
finally, something interesting to report
I've heard the complaints from on high: Druz in Iraq, my Aunt Mary in New Jersey, my own parents in Irvine. Everybody's wondering why I've been so quiet lately. As much as I'd love to give some exciting answer. There really has been nothing new to report. I go to work each week and enjoy my job. On the weekends I often cook, go out with friends, and have been more dilligent about running and recently started taking yoga, as well. I read a lot in the evenings and generally try to go to bed early so as to get to work early, leave early and enjoy the long-lasting afternoon sun that graces DC in the spring. (Though in the last week, we've had more rain and clouds than sun, but the last two days have happily made up for that.)
Two interesting things have happened in the last few months. The first: I turned 29. Not a monumental birthday, to be sure, but it feels auspicious, with 30 just around the corner. It's left me thinking a lot about what I expected of myself at this age and where I think I'll be in the next year. My career is going down a path that seems promising. I enjoy living in my rented apartment but have begun thinking about living in a space that I own and wondering how that can be possibly given my finances. It's certainly not impossible, but I still have some work to do to get there. Mostly, I've enjoyed my life on my own in this still relatively new city of mine. I love exploring the neighborhoods, reading a book on a warm Sunday in the park, learning to enjoy cooking for myself, and of course often doing all these things with Vahan, who's become my best friend and partner in many of these adventures.
As our relationship has matured and strengthened, so have we as individuals. Which brings me to my next interesting bit of news. In two weeks I'll be traveling to Ukraine for work. I'll be accompanying two managers from a TV station in Louisville, KY, to Kherson in Southern Ukraine. I'll work with them to host training sessions and discussions with a TV station in Kherson that my organization is working with this year. I'm looking forward to this new challenge in my career, and am particularly excited to see a new country and work in a totally unfamiliar environment.
After I finish my work in Ukraine, I'll be heading to Netherlands for a few days of rest and to visit a good childhood friend, Molly, who's lived in the Hague for a few years now. I'll be seeing her for a day, then spend two days exploring Amsterdam on my own.
I'm looking forward to an adventure on my own and promise to keep you all updated about it.
Two interesting things have happened in the last few months. The first: I turned 29. Not a monumental birthday, to be sure, but it feels auspicious, with 30 just around the corner. It's left me thinking a lot about what I expected of myself at this age and where I think I'll be in the next year. My career is going down a path that seems promising. I enjoy living in my rented apartment but have begun thinking about living in a space that I own and wondering how that can be possibly given my finances. It's certainly not impossible, but I still have some work to do to get there. Mostly, I've enjoyed my life on my own in this still relatively new city of mine. I love exploring the neighborhoods, reading a book on a warm Sunday in the park, learning to enjoy cooking for myself, and of course often doing all these things with Vahan, who's become my best friend and partner in many of these adventures.
As our relationship has matured and strengthened, so have we as individuals. Which brings me to my next interesting bit of news. In two weeks I'll be traveling to Ukraine for work. I'll be accompanying two managers from a TV station in Louisville, KY, to Kherson in Southern Ukraine. I'll work with them to host training sessions and discussions with a TV station in Kherson that my organization is working with this year. I'm looking forward to this new challenge in my career, and am particularly excited to see a new country and work in a totally unfamiliar environment.
After I finish my work in Ukraine, I'll be heading to Netherlands for a few days of rest and to visit a good childhood friend, Molly, who's lived in the Hague for a few years now. I'll be seeing her for a day, then spend two days exploring Amsterdam on my own.
I'm looking forward to an adventure on my own and promise to keep you all updated about it.
2.22.2009
chocolate + bacon = happiness
This is an equation I have always firmly believed in, as the two represent some of my favorite food groups. Much has been written on the topic of chocolate-covered bacon. I'd always wanted to try it, but the opportunity to service fried pork products dipped in chocolate never really presented itself until my office announced the theme ingredient for last month's Iron Chef competition: Chocolate. The choice was clear. I went to the star and bought two pounds of bacon -- one each of regular maple smoked and turkey (to offer my non-pork-eating friends a chance to enjoy this singular culinary delight.)
And so, to recreate the two glorious nights it took me to pull this off -- and cause our apartment to smell of bacon for roughly a week -- I hereby present you with a step-by-step guide to chocolate-covered bacon.
Step 1: Fry lotsa bacon.
Step 2: Melt chocolate in which to dip delicious bacon.
Step 3: Dip all the bacon in the chocolate and lay on parchment paper. Refrigerate overnight.
Step 4: Drizzle with white chocolate to emulate the pure white streaks of fat that make bacon so delectable. Et voila!
In case you're wondering, the refined palettes of my fellow nonprofit professionals deemed my dish third out of 16 other chocolate-themed concoctions. I guess chocolate-covered bacon is far more refined than you'd think.
And so, to recreate the two glorious nights it took me to pull this off -- and cause our apartment to smell of bacon for roughly a week -- I hereby present you with a step-by-step guide to chocolate-covered bacon.
Step 1: Fry lotsa bacon.
Step 2: Melt chocolate in which to dip delicious bacon.
Step 3: Dip all the bacon in the chocolate and lay on parchment paper. Refrigerate overnight.
Step 4: Drizzle with white chocolate to emulate the pure white streaks of fat that make bacon so delectable. Et voila!
In case you're wondering, the refined palettes of my fellow nonprofit professionals deemed my dish third out of 16 other chocolate-themed concoctions. I guess chocolate-covered bacon is far more refined than you'd think.
2.01.2009
inauguration part 2
Per Heath's request, I am attempting to remedy my lazy blogging habits with a picture of Vahan and I at our future home.
I should make clear that Vahan is only interested in the First Lady's job, while I am more interested in having everybody finally do whatever I tell them to do. "Vahan? First Lady?" you may be wondering. If you've met the man of my dreams, you'll know that there's nothing he loves more than throwing a good party, especially one that involves him cooking multiple ducks for many guests. And the guest of honor at each party must be someone who has never before attended a duck party. I don't think he'd mind hosting a duck party with Alex Ovechkin as the guest of honor. But I'm fairly certain he'd balk at my dream guest: George Clooney. Too bad. As First Lady, he'd just have to respect the President's decisions.
I should make clear that Vahan is only interested in the First Lady's job, while I am more interested in having everybody finally do whatever I tell them to do. "Vahan? First Lady?" you may be wondering. If you've met the man of my dreams, you'll know that there's nothing he loves more than throwing a good party, especially one that involves him cooking multiple ducks for many guests. And the guest of honor at each party must be someone who has never before attended a duck party. I don't think he'd mind hosting a duck party with Alex Ovechkin as the guest of honor. But I'm fairly certain he'd balk at my dream guest: George Clooney. Too bad. As First Lady, he'd just have to respect the President's decisions.
1.24.2009
my inaugural inauguration
I know I'm pretty much the worst blogger in the world, but I really haven't had anything interesting happen to me lately -- that is, until this past Tuesday. Below is an essay I wrote for the Armenian Reporter about my experiences in Washington this week. Enjoy!
When I woke up at 4 a.m. January 20, 2009, I certainly didn't think that at the end of the day I'd be sitting next to President Obama and Vice President Biden.
I had volunteered to work as an usher along the inaugural parade route. All I knew was that I had to check in at 5 a.m. and could expect to be on my feet and outside until at least 5:30 p.m. What followed were 14 of the most interesting, coldest, and exciting hours I've experienced since moving to Washington, DC 2 1/2 years ago.
I left my apartment around 4:30 a.m. and started making way down to 14th St. NW and New York Ave. NW, just a few blocks from the White House, where I’d be stationed all day to assist people to their seats in the bleachers that lined the parade route. I knew we were in a good spot, but I didn’t know how good it was until our volunteer team leader told us we were stationed next to the president’s reviewing stand. Suddenly, the prospect of not actually seeing the inauguration – there were no jumbotrons on the parade route -- didn’t seem so bad.
Our bleacher was directly in front of Blair House – the White House’s official guest residence and the Obamas’ last address before moving into the big house across the street. As 11:30 a.m. crept closer, a pair of moving trucks pulled out of the White House gates and another pair pulled in.
The inaugural committee staff flipped on the loudspeakers on Pennsylvania Avenue and set the radio to a broadcast of the swearing-in ceremony. I heard Barack Obama become our 44th president while sitting on a bleacher on an empty stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the White House, and huddling near three total strangers with whom I was assigned as a volunteer. Tears welled in my eyes and a chill went down my spine. I looked back toward the White House and smiled.
Soon after, the crowds swelled up from the National Mall to the parade route and I finally jumped into action as a bleacher usher. I’ve never seen a happier crowd. Even as I told people to please step inside and fill in the seats up top, they were perfectly content to oblige. There were Obama hats and blankets and scarves, pins and calendars and commemorative tickets, parents with their children, grandparents with their grandchildren – all American and all desperate for a glimpse of their new president. As each one passed, they all asked where they could get the best view of the president. I explained that I wasn’t sure whether he’d make his way down to our bleachers, the last ones on the parade route.
A short while later, when the parade announcer said President Obama would indeed be walking down Pennsylvania Avenue all the way to 17th Street – where my bleacher was rapidly filling up – there was a roar of approval from the crowd. Sure enough, when the new president and his wife walked right by our stand – with me front and center – the crowd pushed forward to get a glimpse and I got my own quick picture, thinking I’d gotten what I’d volunteered for: a chance to see the new president in person.
As the sun set and the parade continued on, my feet started to go numb and ache from the 13 hours spent outside in the freezing temperatures, I contemplated heading home. I'd seen most of the parade, snapped a picture of the Obamas and Bidens walking right past me on the parade route, and met some incredible volunteers.
I was leaning against a barricade, stomping my feet to regain feeling in my toes, when an inaugural committee staffer counted off five volunteers, smiled and said: "Would you like to join the President in his box?"
A volunteer I had never met hugged me and jumped up and down while saying: "I don't even know you but I'm so happy!"
We were ushered into the president's box and sat a few feet away from him and Vice President Biden in the seats the real VIPs had long ago abandoned in favor of going home to get ready for the inaugural balls.
Vice President Biden turned to our small group in the box, made a motion as if he were shivering and mouthed to us, “Why are you here? It’s freezing!” We laughed and pointed at him and said, “Because of you!” He laughed and blew us a kiss.
The highlight? As President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama left the box upon the parade's finish to return to their new home behind them, he turned to our small group waved and said, "Thanks for coming guys!"
We replied: "Thank you, Mr. President."
The next day, I was one of a lucky 200 who won a lottery to attend an open house at the White House. My boyfriend Vahan and I arrived promptly for our tour, made our way through several formal sitting rooms and suddenly came face to face with Michelle Obama, who warmly welcomed us – two Armenian-American kids from California and Michigan – into her new home. I told her I was honored to meet her, and she thanked me.
As we walked out the gates of the White House, I found myself standing in front of the box that just 24 hours before held President Obama, First Lady Michelle Obama, Vice President Biden, and me.
You can see more pictures in my Facebook album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2154142&l=3d861&id=1417897
When I woke up at 4 a.m. January 20, 2009, I certainly didn't think that at the end of the day I'd be sitting next to President Obama and Vice President Biden.
I had volunteered to work as an usher along the inaugural parade route. All I knew was that I had to check in at 5 a.m. and could expect to be on my feet and outside until at least 5:30 p.m. What followed were 14 of the most interesting, coldest, and exciting hours I've experienced since moving to Washington, DC 2 1/2 years ago.
I left my apartment around 4:30 a.m. and started making way down to 14th St. NW and New York Ave. NW, just a few blocks from the White House, where I’d be stationed all day to assist people to their seats in the bleachers that lined the parade route. I knew we were in a good spot, but I didn’t know how good it was until our volunteer team leader told us we were stationed next to the president’s reviewing stand. Suddenly, the prospect of not actually seeing the inauguration – there were no jumbotrons on the parade route -- didn’t seem so bad.
Our bleacher was directly in front of Blair House – the White House’s official guest residence and the Obamas’ last address before moving into the big house across the street. As 11:30 a.m. crept closer, a pair of moving trucks pulled out of the White House gates and another pair pulled in.
The inaugural committee staff flipped on the loudspeakers on Pennsylvania Avenue and set the radio to a broadcast of the swearing-in ceremony. I heard Barack Obama become our 44th president while sitting on a bleacher on an empty stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the White House, and huddling near three total strangers with whom I was assigned as a volunteer. Tears welled in my eyes and a chill went down my spine. I looked back toward the White House and smiled.
Soon after, the crowds swelled up from the National Mall to the parade route and I finally jumped into action as a bleacher usher. I’ve never seen a happier crowd. Even as I told people to please step inside and fill in the seats up top, they were perfectly content to oblige. There were Obama hats and blankets and scarves, pins and calendars and commemorative tickets, parents with their children, grandparents with their grandchildren – all American and all desperate for a glimpse of their new president. As each one passed, they all asked where they could get the best view of the president. I explained that I wasn’t sure whether he’d make his way down to our bleachers, the last ones on the parade route.
A short while later, when the parade announcer said President Obama would indeed be walking down Pennsylvania Avenue all the way to 17th Street – where my bleacher was rapidly filling up – there was a roar of approval from the crowd. Sure enough, when the new president and his wife walked right by our stand – with me front and center – the crowd pushed forward to get a glimpse and I got my own quick picture, thinking I’d gotten what I’d volunteered for: a chance to see the new president in person.
As the sun set and the parade continued on, my feet started to go numb and ache from the 13 hours spent outside in the freezing temperatures, I contemplated heading home. I'd seen most of the parade, snapped a picture of the Obamas and Bidens walking right past me on the parade route, and met some incredible volunteers.
I was leaning against a barricade, stomping my feet to regain feeling in my toes, when an inaugural committee staffer counted off five volunteers, smiled and said: "Would you like to join the President in his box?"
A volunteer I had never met hugged me and jumped up and down while saying: "I don't even know you but I'm so happy!"
We were ushered into the president's box and sat a few feet away from him and Vice President Biden in the seats the real VIPs had long ago abandoned in favor of going home to get ready for the inaugural balls.
Vice President Biden turned to our small group in the box, made a motion as if he were shivering and mouthed to us, “Why are you here? It’s freezing!” We laughed and pointed at him and said, “Because of you!” He laughed and blew us a kiss.
The highlight? As President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama left the box upon the parade's finish to return to their new home behind them, he turned to our small group waved and said, "Thanks for coming guys!"
We replied: "Thank you, Mr. President."
The next day, I was one of a lucky 200 who won a lottery to attend an open house at the White House. My boyfriend Vahan and I arrived promptly for our tour, made our way through several formal sitting rooms and suddenly came face to face with Michelle Obama, who warmly welcomed us – two Armenian-American kids from California and Michigan – into her new home. I told her I was honored to meet her, and she thanked me.
As we walked out the gates of the White House, I found myself standing in front of the box that just 24 hours before held President Obama, First Lady Michelle Obama, Vice President Biden, and me.
You can see more pictures in my Facebook album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2154142&l=3d861&id=1417897
11.09.2008
Druzopotamia
My good friend Heath (aka "Funny Uncle Heath) Druzin has taken a major leap in his reporting career, from the rugged American West to the somewhat wilder west of Iraq. He recently started a year-long reporting gig with Stars and Stripes (the preferred newspaper for America's military) as an embedded reporter in Iraq. He'll also be reporting from Afghanistan later on during his contract.
His insights so far have included a lament for the woeful lack of beer in embedded units, the interminable "hurry up and wait" atmosphere, and the culinary delights of chow halls.
If you'll permit me a moment of sappiness (save the snark, Heath), I've always been impressed by Heath's determination and neverending curiosity. Though I and all our friends worry and think about him daily (I won't even mention what his poor mother is probably going through), I'm impressed by his dedication to this position and I know that he'll leave his mark on the cannon of Iraq (and later, Afghanistan) war journalism that's currently in the works.
So, upon his insistence, I've added him to my friends' blogroll. Honestly, I should've done this much sooner, but I've become a pretty delinquent blogger of late, so please enjoy.
11.05.2008
President Obama
This picture is taken on U Street at roughly 2:30 a.m. when I ran into Dave, Vahan's roommate. At this point, Karin and I were going on pure adrenaline.
Finally, something interesting to post about. Something truly Washingtonian. Something that made yesterday one of the greatest days of my life. Though on the one hand it seemed there was no stopping the Obama momentum, until the moment CNN called the election for him, I can honestly say I've never felt jubilation quite like that before. Nor have I ever felt so proud of my country and my countrymen.
My evening of election celebration all happened on U Street, Washington's historically black neighborhood, U Street. We started off at Ben's Chili Bowl, a landmark half smoke joint that's been around for 50 years. Until now, only one person famously could eat free at Ben's: Bill Cosby. After yesterday, that rule was amended to include the Obama family. Can't wait to see little Sasha and Malia stopping by for a snack! U Street is also the epicenter of DC's jazz clubs, including the one where Duke Ellington used to play and where we watched Barack Obama become the 44th president. Bohemian Caverns had three levels of bars, TVs, and a bounce house to keep us entertained. A friend was DJing and we kept dancing as the numbers got better and better.
Around 11 p.m., when they finally named him President, the bartenders popped the champagne, soaking everyone in the vicinity, including yours truly, who also snagged a full glass and a beer from a particularly jubilant photographer who'd snuck behind the bar. We stuck around for McCain's extremely gracious (I thought) concession, did a little boogaloo, listened in rapt silence to the man in whom we now entrust all our hope, then quickly headed to the streets.
Already they'd stopped traffic at 11th and U, right outside Bohemian Caverns and just two blocks from my place. Strangers hugged strangers, high-fives were had all around, and the downpour that started around midnight couldn't dampen the dancing and chanting. The crowd swelled and stretched along U to 14th Street, where a drum circle took over one corner, and revelers in trees and on bus tops waved American flags and intermittently chanted, "U-S-A!" and "Yes we did!"
Word spread that a crowd was forming at the White House, but Karin, Mona and I stayed put at 14th Street, where we joined a conga line and slapped high-fives with everyone around. Every time we spotted a friend in the crowd (which was pretty often) we embraced, screamed, and jumped up and down in circles. A Marine in his uniform stood up on a newspaper box chanting "Yes we did!" as everyone around him clamored to hug him and applaud him.
What may have been the most moving was seeing all the African-Americans with tears streaming down their cheeks and everyone (white, black, Latino, Asian, gay, straight) hugging them and each other. It brought tears to my own eyes and goosebumps all over. And hokey though it sounds, I couldn't stop thinking to myself, "We, as a country, have come a long way."
We kept going until about 2:30 when Karin and I slowly started trudging back to 11th Street, and when our tired feet reminded us that our jeans were now soaked from dancing in the rain-streaked streets. We stood at the corner of 11th and U watching the impromptu parade continue to gather steam. When we saw there was no chance this party was going to let up, we walked back up to our apartment, collapsed in the living room and watch Obama's speech replayed on CNN, before finally crawling into bed.
My only regret is that I let Vahan borrow my camera this week for his trip to Hong Kong. Thankfully my friends got numerous shots and this YouTube video of 14 and U Streets will show you just exactly what we did last night.
9.23.2008
it's been a while
Hasn't it? The trouble with blogging is that it's not very interesting to blog when you have nothing to blog about. I pointed this out to the V when he was complaining about my un-updated blog this weekend. He helpfully reminded me that I DO have something to blog about. Two words: NEW. JOB.
OK, three words: HOORAY!
It took not nearly as long as I thought it would and when I saw it I knew it was the perfect one for me. The job I'd gone to graduate school to get. One that allows me to work with journalists, overseas and in Washington, and lets me help them be better at their jobs so that governments will do their jobs even better. Where in particular, you may ask? Russia, Ukraine, Azerbeijan, and...Armenia! Hopefully I'll get to travel to all, but most likely the first two at least a couple times a year.
They already knew me over at IREX from my travels last summer. They were kind enough to fund my research project and, in turn, my thesis. Now they'll be funding an above-poverty-grade lifestyle for this newly minted NGO staffer. In truth, it's a much better salary than I expected and I'm happy to report that I'll be able to pay my rent, bills, grad school loans, and possibly even tuck away a tiny bit into a retirement account each month. This is more than I can say for many friends in the NGO/think tank world.
Though it would've been nice to have transitioned into a full-time gig at the current office, I am somewhat relieved to be leaving the think tank world. It was a great complement to thesis research and an even better introduction to the field as a whole, but I'm ready to get my hands dirty, as it were. Hopefully, however, I won't have to dirty them eating borscht, the national dish of former Soviet states suffering from a dearth of taste. Blech.
In other exciting news, I cut my hair short! *giggles* It's very fun. See!
OK, three words: HOORAY!
It took not nearly as long as I thought it would and when I saw it I knew it was the perfect one for me. The job I'd gone to graduate school to get. One that allows me to work with journalists, overseas and in Washington, and lets me help them be better at their jobs so that governments will do their jobs even better. Where in particular, you may ask? Russia, Ukraine, Azerbeijan, and...Armenia! Hopefully I'll get to travel to all, but most likely the first two at least a couple times a year.
They already knew me over at IREX from my travels last summer. They were kind enough to fund my research project and, in turn, my thesis. Now they'll be funding an above-poverty-grade lifestyle for this newly minted NGO staffer. In truth, it's a much better salary than I expected and I'm happy to report that I'll be able to pay my rent, bills, grad school loans, and possibly even tuck away a tiny bit into a retirement account each month. This is more than I can say for many friends in the NGO/think tank world.
Though it would've been nice to have transitioned into a full-time gig at the current office, I am somewhat relieved to be leaving the think tank world. It was a great complement to thesis research and an even better introduction to the field as a whole, but I'm ready to get my hands dirty, as it were. Hopefully, however, I won't have to dirty them eating borscht, the national dish of former Soviet states suffering from a dearth of taste. Blech.
In other exciting news, I cut my hair short! *giggles* It's very fun. See!
8.18.2008
back to dodge and out again
They're not kidding when they say DC is dead in August. I've spent the two short weeks I've been back at work after our vacation mostly reading about Russia and Georgia doing stupid things to each other, marveling at how Olympians can swim/run/flip around in the air several times, and generally doing nothing of any consequence. It helps that The Boss is out of the country, and just about everybody else is on vacation.
I headed out of town again Thursday afternoon -- this time for San Francisco and little Whelan's wedding, which was a ton of fun, and only slightly less debauched than every other Basement Reunion to date. Duringthe Friday night rehearsal dinner -- a nighttime cruise around the Bay -- I was reminded of how much I miss California, but really Northern California. Orange County will always be home, but there's something about San Francisco and the Bay Area that feel so right to me. Maybe it's the people, or the lifestyle, possibly even the weather. (It doesn't take long to be absolutely sick of the swamp that is DC in the summer.) I would love to live up there and be only an hour's plane ride from home, instead of a minimum six-hour trek across country. I'd love to be able to wear a trench coat for the summer evenings, but still walk around in a tank top and skirt during the day. And the Mexican food, oh the Mexican food. Guacamole just ain't the same when you have to ship the avocadoes across country.
But then I remember what I love about DC. The seasons, the excitement, the pleasure of being able to walk anywhere (work, store, National Mall), the culture, the interesting conversations, and the even more interesting jobs I've held since moving there. It feels like home to me now. Especially today as I clean out dusty bookcases and decide which of the CDs I left behind I'm going to sell. I can't make room in my new life for much more of the stuff from my old life.
I don't yet know if Washington is where I'll settle permanently -- somehow I doubt it is -- but it's home for now and I'm grateful for it.
I headed out of town again Thursday afternoon -- this time for San Francisco and little Whelan's wedding, which was a ton of fun, and only slightly less debauched than every other Basement Reunion to date. Duringthe Friday night rehearsal dinner -- a nighttime cruise around the Bay -- I was reminded of how much I miss California, but really Northern California. Orange County will always be home, but there's something about San Francisco and the Bay Area that feel so right to me. Maybe it's the people, or the lifestyle, possibly even the weather. (It doesn't take long to be absolutely sick of the swamp that is DC in the summer.) I would love to live up there and be only an hour's plane ride from home, instead of a minimum six-hour trek across country. I'd love to be able to wear a trench coat for the summer evenings, but still walk around in a tank top and skirt during the day. And the Mexican food, oh the Mexican food. Guacamole just ain't the same when you have to ship the avocadoes across country.
But then I remember what I love about DC. The seasons, the excitement, the pleasure of being able to walk anywhere (work, store, National Mall), the culture, the interesting conversations, and the even more interesting jobs I've held since moving there. It feels like home to me now. Especially today as I clean out dusty bookcases and decide which of the CDs I left behind I'm going to sell. I can't make room in my new life for much more of the stuff from my old life.
I don't yet know if Washington is where I'll settle permanently -- somehow I doubt it is -- but it's home for now and I'm grateful for it.
7.24.2008
getting out of dodge
I've been quiet lately mostly because there hasn't been much to say. Since school ended, I've been enjoying the life of a regular DC civillian. I read far too many magazines, journals, and books, discuss politics and foreign policy with my colleagues and friends alike, go out to dinner and even make a few new things, and generally feel like I'm melting every time I leave the house.
It's been lovely, but here's the thing. When you don't have a car, you don't get out of town much. And in case you've never been to D.C., I'm going to let you in on a little secret: It's kind of little. As in, you need to get the hell out of Dodge every couple months or you start going stir crazy. It's a great city, but unlike New York, you rarely discover new neighborhoods, or shops, or really even restaurants. You run into friends all the time, and you rarely venture out of your routine. 90 percent of the time, that works just great. But in the last few weeks I've been feeling itchy. I need out.
Tomorrow I'm off to Detroit for a wedding and this time I'm going to see college roommate Jessie and finally meet her new little daughter, Leah! (We'll also see her husband Mike, but who really cares about that when there's an adorable little baby to hold? Mike is cute, but he's not cuddly.) Monday morning we'll take a train to Chicago for several days of sight-seeing and eating lots of good food and hopefully lots of sleeping. Thursday we'll take a train back to Michigan, only this time to Kalamazoo, home of Vahan's alma mater. We'll have dinner at his friends' nearby farm, then head to South Haven, MI for several days of lakeside relaxation.
It's sure to be fabulous and I'll let you know just how good it goes when we get back Aug. 3.
It's been lovely, but here's the thing. When you don't have a car, you don't get out of town much. And in case you've never been to D.C., I'm going to let you in on a little secret: It's kind of little. As in, you need to get the hell out of Dodge every couple months or you start going stir crazy. It's a great city, but unlike New York, you rarely discover new neighborhoods, or shops, or really even restaurants. You run into friends all the time, and you rarely venture out of your routine. 90 percent of the time, that works just great. But in the last few weeks I've been feeling itchy. I need out.
Tomorrow I'm off to Detroit for a wedding and this time I'm going to see college roommate Jessie and finally meet her new little daughter, Leah! (We'll also see her husband Mike, but who really cares about that when there's an adorable little baby to hold? Mike is cute, but he's not cuddly.) Monday morning we'll take a train to Chicago for several days of sight-seeing and eating lots of good food and hopefully lots of sleeping. Thursday we'll take a train back to Michigan, only this time to Kalamazoo, home of Vahan's alma mater. We'll have dinner at his friends' nearby farm, then head to South Haven, MI for several days of lakeside relaxation.
It's sure to be fabulous and I'll let you know just how good it goes when we get back Aug. 3.
7.04.2008
happy fourth of july, muppets!
Last year I spent the fourth of July with my dad, eating hamburgers at Yerevan City Diner because tickets to the bbq-fireworks extravaganza at the U.S. Embassy were sold out.
This year, I'll be drinking beers on my friend's rooftop in Glover Park and watching the distant fireworks over the Washington Monument.
And now, in celebration of America's independence, one of my very favorite things about America: MUPPETS!
This year, I'll be drinking beers on my friend's rooftop in Glover Park and watching the distant fireworks over the Washington Monument.
And now, in celebration of America's independence, one of my very favorite things about America: MUPPETS!
7.02.2008
now what?
So there have been more than a few complaints about my lack o' blogging. (How did I miss the entire month of June?) Part of it may be because school is over, the madness of graduation week is over, the three weekends in a row of having friends and family in town has also (mercifully) come to a close, and now I've got nada. I walk to work every morning, which has been lovely. I usually walk back in the evenings. (At 3 miles for the round trip, I feel that is sufficient enough to excuse my lack of all other exercise.) And as of late May/early June, I've been obsessively job hunting.
I'd been dreading the thought of job hunting since I began graduate school. Because I enrolled in such a touchy-feely humanities program, I knew I'd be running the risk of struggling somewhat in my post-graduation job search. Since January, however, I'd been ambling along under the somewhat questionable hope that my current employer would be able to hire me full time. My boss said she'd love to, I was enjoying the work, even if it wasn't a dream job, the pay was decent, and HELLO! I could WALK to work. But the funding for my position didn't come through and so my contract ends in August. As of September my student health insurance runs out, and shortly after that, I have to start paying back my student loans. What's a girl to do?
PANIC!!
Not quite yet. I've had some bites -- an informational interview today, a real interview tomorrow -- but none of the jobs really excite me. Part of the problem is I'm *still* not exactly sure what I want to do. I'm still totally fascinated by media development, and using new media to engage people in civic participation, but that only gets you so far, even in Washington. It also is a one-way road to nonprofits, which are wonderful, but when you're staring down $50k in debt, something more FOR-profit is tempting.
What does that leave me? Government would be interesting and I'm still leaving that door open. Consulting/private development (read: FOR profit) firms are also quite tempting and I have some friends who are helping to open some doors in these directions. But again, all of this needs to be the right fit for me. And what that is, I still don't know.
I'll let you know when I figure out the secret to happiness.
I'd been dreading the thought of job hunting since I began graduate school. Because I enrolled in such a touchy-feely humanities program, I knew I'd be running the risk of struggling somewhat in my post-graduation job search. Since January, however, I'd been ambling along under the somewhat questionable hope that my current employer would be able to hire me full time. My boss said she'd love to, I was enjoying the work, even if it wasn't a dream job, the pay was decent, and HELLO! I could WALK to work. But the funding for my position didn't come through and so my contract ends in August. As of September my student health insurance runs out, and shortly after that, I have to start paying back my student loans. What's a girl to do?
PANIC!!
Not quite yet. I've had some bites -- an informational interview today, a real interview tomorrow -- but none of the jobs really excite me. Part of the problem is I'm *still* not exactly sure what I want to do. I'm still totally fascinated by media development, and using new media to engage people in civic participation, but that only gets you so far, even in Washington. It also is a one-way road to nonprofits, which are wonderful, but when you're staring down $50k in debt, something more FOR-profit is tempting.
What does that leave me? Government would be interesting and I'm still leaving that door open. Consulting/private development (read: FOR profit) firms are also quite tempting and I have some friends who are helping to open some doors in these directions. But again, all of this needs to be the right fit for me. And what that is, I still don't know.
I'll let you know when I figure out the secret to happiness.
5.26.2008
on master's degrees and my future
It's been a while since my last post. I've spent the last month finishing up graduation requirements, buying caps and gowns, wearing caps and gowns, welcoming my family and Vahan's to DC (and introducing them), hosting more friends this last weekend, and trying to figure out what's in store for my future. Needless to say, it's been a bit busy around here.
Graduation was wonderful. The ceremony was, of course, long and boring, but Vahan and my parents threw a fantastic party at Vahan's house. Our parents got to know one another (and like each other!), and got to know our friends, who I think want our parents to adopt them now.
Now I'm trying to figure out what's next. I'll be here through the summer. After that? It's still up in the air. Maybe stay on as a staff member (I'm a contractor now.) Maybe go elsehwere? I'm looking but haven't been enticed by anything yet. Part of me is toying with the idea of going back to journalism -- that itch never seems to leave you. But then I hear horror stories of layoffs in all my friends' newsrooms and I wonder if I'm willing to put up with that sort of lifestyle again. One where nothing is ever certain.
When I started graduate school I thought it might help me find something that was a better fit for my intersection of interests between journalism, international affairs, and media development. And (I won't lie) I was hoping it would be more lucrative than the journalism career I left behind. So far it's only marginally so. Now that school is over, however, and I have some time to think and read and talk to more people this summer, I'm hoping to come up with a better answer to my dilemma.
In the meantime, enjoy this image of the Agopians and Callans and a master's graduate.
Graduation was wonderful. The ceremony was, of course, long and boring, but Vahan and my parents threw a fantastic party at Vahan's house. Our parents got to know one another (and like each other!), and got to know our friends, who I think want our parents to adopt them now.
Now I'm trying to figure out what's next. I'll be here through the summer. After that? It's still up in the air. Maybe stay on as a staff member (I'm a contractor now.) Maybe go elsehwere? I'm looking but haven't been enticed by anything yet. Part of me is toying with the idea of going back to journalism -- that itch never seems to leave you. But then I hear horror stories of layoffs in all my friends' newsrooms and I wonder if I'm willing to put up with that sort of lifestyle again. One where nothing is ever certain.
When I started graduate school I thought it might help me find something that was a better fit for my intersection of interests between journalism, international affairs, and media development. And (I won't lie) I was hoping it would be more lucrative than the journalism career I left behind. So far it's only marginally so. Now that school is over, however, and I have some time to think and read and talk to more people this summer, I'm hoping to come up with a better answer to my dilemma.
In the meantime, enjoy this image of the Agopians and Callans and a master's graduate.
4.27.2008
saying goodbye
On Valentine's Day my mom called. My grandmother -- Lily Mommy we called her, because she was everybody's Mommy -- was not doing well. She'd been in a nursing home since November. Now the nurses were saying it could be a matter of days. I insisted on booking a ticket, but then held off. Unsure what I'd be booking a ticket for. Finally, I flew home for a few days over spring break. I got off the plane and went to see her.
It was heartbreaking to see how she'd deteriorated. I'm still not entirely sure she recognized me. In December, when I'd seen her last, my mom told her that I'd come from Washington to see her. And she looked amazed that I'd traveled such a distance. She sort of understood it.
In March, she didn't even really speak. I held her hand, and stroked her hair, and kissed her on the forehead over and over. Then I said goodbye.
She let go of this world on Tuesday. At the funeral, I kissed her forehead again. But it felt strange and cold. I couldn't bear to touch her beautiful hands. She looked like she was asleep. Peacefully so. I whimpered, and said goodbye again. But she was already gone.
My mom asked me to speak at the funeral, but I just couldn't do it. It was too hard to stay composed. If I had, however, here's what I would have said:
I can never repay you for all you taught me: The importance of being a tough, independent woman. To never depend on anyone. To pursue whatever I wanted in life. To be unafraid in the face of challenges. To be graceful and ladylike -- though I may still struggle with that last one.
You were my Lily Mommy. As good as a mother to me. I'm grateful to have had you in my life for 28 years. And the world will forever benefit from the 89 years with which you graced your presence.
I love you. And I miss you so, so much.
It was heartbreaking to see how she'd deteriorated. I'm still not entirely sure she recognized me. In December, when I'd seen her last, my mom told her that I'd come from Washington to see her. And she looked amazed that I'd traveled such a distance. She sort of understood it.
In March, she didn't even really speak. I held her hand, and stroked her hair, and kissed her on the forehead over and over. Then I said goodbye.
She let go of this world on Tuesday. At the funeral, I kissed her forehead again. But it felt strange and cold. I couldn't bear to touch her beautiful hands. She looked like she was asleep. Peacefully so. I whimpered, and said goodbye again. But she was already gone.
My mom asked me to speak at the funeral, but I just couldn't do it. It was too hard to stay composed. If I had, however, here's what I would have said:
I can never repay you for all you taught me: The importance of being a tough, independent woman. To never depend on anyone. To pursue whatever I wanted in life. To be unafraid in the face of challenges. To be graceful and ladylike -- though I may still struggle with that last one.
You were my Lily Mommy. As good as a mother to me. I'm grateful to have had you in my life for 28 years. And the world will forever benefit from the 89 years with which you graced your presence.
I love you. And I miss you so, so much.
4.07.2008
on distinction and fresh fruit
Exhausted. Elated. Overwhelmed. And proud. Very very proud.
My thesis defense couldn't have gone before if I'd planted the questions in the audience myself (And NO, I did NOT!) It felt more like a conversation than a defense, which is what it's supposed to be anyway.
Then I stepped out of the room with the most wonderful friends (and boyfriend) a girl could ask for and waited. For about 5 minutes. Then Dr. Garcia called me back into the room and before I could even shut the door she said the words I really wasn't expecting to hear:
"Don't you want your friends in here too, to hear that you got distinction?"
I gasped. I stared. I grasped my stomach. Then I hugged her. I hugged Nelson, too, who I think was a little startled by that. But I digress. Their only recommendation to me? Get it published. So, that's project #2. After my brain comes back to life and I finish the remaining assignments for Nelson's class.
Vahan and I went out to celebrate at J. Paul's with oysters and beers. And that's when the exhaustion descended. Two beers later I just wanted to go home and go grocery shopping with the roommate. Now I have fresh produce and a master's degree earned with distinction.
It's a good day.
My thesis defense couldn't have gone before if I'd planted the questions in the audience myself (And NO, I did NOT!) It felt more like a conversation than a defense, which is what it's supposed to be anyway.
Then I stepped out of the room with the most wonderful friends (and boyfriend) a girl could ask for and waited. For about 5 minutes. Then Dr. Garcia called me back into the room and before I could even shut the door she said the words I really wasn't expecting to hear:
"Don't you want your friends in here too, to hear that you got distinction?"
I gasped. I stared. I grasped my stomach. Then I hugged her. I hugged Nelson, too, who I think was a little startled by that. But I digress. Their only recommendation to me? Get it published. So, that's project #2. After my brain comes back to life and I finish the remaining assignments for Nelson's class.
Vahan and I went out to celebrate at J. Paul's with oysters and beers. And that's when the exhaustion descended. Two beers later I just wanted to go home and go grocery shopping with the roommate. Now I have fresh produce and a master's degree earned with distinction.
It's a good day.
4.05.2008
3.27.2008
stay tuned...
You don't really expect me to post while I'm working against the clock, do you?
If all goes well, I'll have a complete draft read and approved for presentation by Monday afternoon. Like I said, stay tuned...
If all goes well, I'll have a complete draft read and approved for presentation by Monday afternoon. Like I said, stay tuned...
3.11.2008
thesis
Thesis, thesis thesis. Thesis thesis thesis thesis. Thesis? Thesis thesis. Thesis thesis thesis thesis. Thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis. Thesis thesis thesis thesis. Thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis thesis.
"Thesis thesis thesis thesis?"
"Thesis!"
"Thesis thesis!"
Thesis thesis thesis thesis.
Oh, and Vahan's in India. Lucky bastard. Thesis.
"Thesis thesis thesis thesis?"
"Thesis!"
"Thesis thesis!"
Thesis thesis thesis thesis.
Oh, and Vahan's in India. Lucky bastard. Thesis.
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