Remembering One of Our Own

It's hard to believe I arrived in Brussels almost three weeks ago. Three weeks already? Only three weeks? I'm not sure how it's possible to feel like I've been here for both an eternity and just a blink of an eye, but it does and I do. I've spent these couple of weeks wandering around wide-eyed and in awe of the history and grandeur that surround me. At times, the sheer freedom to go where I choose, when I choose, without body guards or armored vehicles, has been almost suffocating. I've thrown myself into work, pouring over files and cables, eager to learn as much as I can in order to become a productive and contributing member of the team as quickly as possible. 

The rigorous nine months spent slogging through French training in DC have started drifting into the background, slowly fading into nostalgic memories of a time spent in the States getting paid to learn a beautiful language. Constant reminders of the amazing friendships and bonds forged with colleagues over our struggles with French grammar (I still detest subjunctive) and pronunciation (why can't I distinguish between vin and vent?) have become less frequent. Not because I no longer care, but because adjusting to this new life has taken nearly all the energy and enthusiasm I can muster. I assumed this was the same for the other "Frenchies" too, as we all start to drift to our remote (or not) corners of the globe, making it on our own yet inextricably bound by all those months pacing the halls of FSI. I thought so, that is, until this weekend. 

On Saturday, June 29, our tight-knit group of pseudo-Francophile FSOs lost a member. Not even two months after her arrival in Haiti, Antoinette was tragically killed in a car accident. Even writing this down doesn't make it feel real. News of her passing traveled around the globe at lightening speed, from the Congo to Guinea, Mauritania to DC. Even colleagues here in Brussels, who hadn't been in French or even had the pleasure of knowing her personally, had heard the crushing news and were lamenting her death come Monday morning. Despite the horrifying circumstances, this was a comforting reminder of what the Foreign Service family really means. In times of happiness or sorrow, abundance or need, celebration or mourning, it comes together. We come together. No matter where we are or what we're doing. Emails go flying, phone calls are made. Who can do what for whom? Checking on each other, leaning on each other. No matter how much time has passed, this is how it's always done. For whatever irrational reason, I've maintained the naive notion that when tragedy strikes it won't be close to home, won't hurt anyone I know. But it always hurts somebody's home, hurts somebody's loved one. And this time, it could happen to us. It did happen to us. Antoinette was one of us, part of our family. 

I'm afraid whatever I could say here won't do her memory justice, but I want to try anyway. I want her husband and two sweet little babies to know that we are heartbroken over her loss, shocked by a life taken far too soon, made raw by the thought of the agony her loved ones are now enduring. Spunky and funny, with a quick smile and an infectious laugh, Antoinette always brightened my day with a witty line or sarcastic remark. Her passion for development work and excitement over her assignment to Haiti was evident after just minutes of chatting with her. She was a committed public servant, caring, generous, and thoughtful. She was also a marathon runner and proud mama. I am honored to call her a member of our family, and am humbled by the ultimate sacrifice she and her family have made. Thank you, Antoinette, for serving our country with grace and dignity. Your kind spirit shall never be forgotten. 

Please click here to read the condolence statement issued yesterday by USAID Administrator Rajiv Shah.

Three Years and Counting

When I started this blog just before joining the Foreign Service in 2010, I was eager to join the throngs of FSO and FS family bloggers chronicling their adventures around the globe. I wanted to create a platform to not only recount my own stories to family and friends, but to also highlight the challenges of FS life, especially for those navigating the system with Members of Household (MOHs) or traveling with pets. Well, as you can see, that clearly didn't happen. Work got busy, life got messy, and keeping this updated became less and less of a priority.

Fast forward a couple of years and I'm ready to give it another shot, this time from Belgium as I start my second tour. I thought about deleting my earlier posts, wiping the slate clean, and coming up with a new blog to kick off my new assignment. But I decided that would be unfair to the person I was writing those early entries, so anxious about moving abroad and leaving loved ones behind, yet so full of hope and enthusiasm for the opportunities and experiences to come. Those early posts serve as a reminder to me about how far I've come, both personally and professionally, and also about why I joined in the first place.

I think any officer will tell you there are plenty of moments in your career-even as a green FSO in a first or second tour-that make you second guess your decision to uproot your life to serve your country far away from home. However, rereading some of those entries I can almost feel the butterflies in my stomach while taking the oath, or the swell of pride on Flag Day when I learned I'd be doing human rights work in Lebanon.   It's moments like those that will help me get through the early days in my new city, as I teeter on the fine line between tourist and resident, impatiently expecting to have carved out a life in a place I've only called home for a week.

Such is the strange reality that is FS life. Moving every few years; adapting to new customs, cultures, and languages; being given opportunities and facing obstacles beyond compare. These are the thrills and adventures I was seeking when I joined, and they are still what gets my blood pumping today. What I wasn't prepared for, though, was how this job would make me throw my well-crafted life plan out the window. The clearly-scripted goals, objectives, and milestones my Type-A personality had carefully outlined quickly succumbed to the unofficial "it depends" mantra of our line of work. I have been pushed, tested, and challenged, and I am a better person for it.

When I started this blog three years ago, I could never have imagined the many things to come...that I would live through the Arab Spring, interview Syrian refugees fleeing a bloody civil war, or end a nearly five-year-long relationship. I never thought I would study French and pack my bags to spend a couple years in the heart of Europe. Sometimes life goes as planned and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you end up where you intend and sometimes you don't. And sometimes you realize that all the zigzagging life has made actually led you to the exact place you should be. I could never have imagined Brussels was in my future, but here it is and here I am. Ready to see what this crazy and amazing way of life has in store. 

Better Late Than Never

I'm going to skip the drawn out explanation about how I've been meaning to update the blog for weeks and weeks now and just say I made it safely to Beirut and am having the absolute time of my life! After months of training, packing, stressing, goodbyes, and more freaking out, the cats and I arrived in Beirut in mid-September. One month in and I'm slowly developing a routine, though I'm quickly learning that life in Lebanon can't be lived by following a predictable schedule!


Life in Beirut is fantastic, though it's much different than most of our other Embassies as all employees live on the Embassy compound. Apparently compared to other Foreign Service housing ours is very small, but I live in a charming two-story bungalow with a balcony off my bedroom that overlooks the Mediterranean. This might be a hardship post, but I'll take a sweeping sea view any day of the week!  

Work has definitely been a whirlwind. My colleagues are so smart and helpful, and they've really made this transition much smoother than it could have been. One of the most heartbreaking things I've done so far is tour Palestinian refugee camps. I was part of a group observing UN-funded schools in action, and I will never forget the conditions under which the children have to study. The cramped classrooms, extreme heat, and lack of a playground don't encourage scholarship, but the students were so attentive and eager to learn. The kids-especially the girls-were eager to describe what they wanted to be when they grow up and knew how important education would be in achieving their dreams. I was so inspired by their determination-I'm not sure I would be as dedicated in similar circumstances. 

Life outside of work is also busy and lots of fun.  I've played on the Embassy softball team, sampled many of Beirut's tasty restaurants, and attended my first representational event: the Harley-Davidson Dealership Grand Opening. Oh yes, there's quite the Harley following here though the clientèle isn't exactly what you'd see in DC over Veteran's Day...I also attended the Spanish National Day party, and the wine and paella convinced me that Madrid needs to be at the top of my list for my second post! Yep, one month in and I'm already thinking about the next place. I need to work on this whole living in the moment thing. One way to do so is head to the spa-this is definitely a great place to pamper yourself! I indulged in a manicure, pedicure, and facial for a grand total of $65-mango mimosa included! And that's considered a bit pricey for Beirut. I plan on getting extremely spoiled while I'm here. 

Well, that's the first month in a nutshell! Here's hoping that updating the blog becomes a regular occurrence =)