Tirana, Albania

My expectations for Tirana were ... let's just say they were modest. Although there were many things I loved about our first post, I found life in Manila challenging. So when we were assigned to another hardship post--with a consumables shipment!--I kept my expectations in check.

And perhaps that is why I think everything here is just awesome. The air is clean, the food is fantastic, and my housing is relatively walkable. Most importantly, I can spend most of the day outside with my active toddler, and the only thing I have to worry about is the sun. (He's very, very, very fair, just like his Daddy, and won't wear hats, also like his Daddy.)

I'm well aware that Tirana and I are on our honeymoon, and in the coming months we'll have some fights, but the foundation of our relationship is solid. For pete's sake, I even fought with Arlington, so there's no avoiding the adjustment process, no matter how well a place meets your needs.

Although we've only been here two weeks, we've taken the opportunity to explore. Over the weekend, we joined our sponsors on a whirlwind road trip to Saranda, and earlier this week Kyle and I took a walking tour* of Tirana with other Mission newcomers.

*I'd like to take the opportunity to emphasize that we took a walking tour. We walked from Skanderberg Square to the Embassy, and more or less enjoyed the experience.

One of Hoxha's many paranoia bunkers, which are scattered throughout the country. This one is in its original location in downtown Tirana, and behind it is a piece of the Berlin Wall.

A promenade between city hall and the art museum.

Any road trip in Albania affords many opportunities for sightings of herds of road goats and cows.

Vlore

The coastal road between Vlore and Sarande. Guard rails are for wimps.

In Sarande, your toddler can amuse himself by throwing rocks at Greece. Corfu is the island in the distance. As you drive farther south in Albania, the walls become white, the doors become blue, and the roadside memorials Christian.

Grief, Trauma, Anne, and the Foreign Service

It is hard for me to articulate how I am grieving for Anne Smedinghoff, who's death yesterday covered my Facebook feed in black ribbons and shattered my small corner of the Foreign Service community. I knew Anne. I am not her close friend or family member, but I was connected to her in many ways. She was was one of my husband's 151st A-100 cohorts. I met her several times at various 151 get togethers and happy hours. I recall sharing a beer with her and talking about Chicago. I remember when my close friend told us that she was going to meet Anne in Australia for a cross country bike tour. I have heard her name spoken many times by my husband, who was proud to serve alongside such a wonderful person, and remarkable diplomat. I remember her smile.

She made an impression on me despite my only knowing her by association. What a fantastic public affairs representative she must have been. What a loss for this country and its diplomatic mission. What an insensible tragedy for her family.

It is impossible to believe that she died--that she was killed by violence while serving her country. I know many people who are currently serving in AIP, and many more who are going to serve there later this year. We are not prepared to lose people by violence in the Foreign Service, and yet, in the last year, we have lost many. The FS is not armed. Its personnel always travel with skilled military convoys. But there it is--the diplomatic corps is small, but is serving right alongside the military.

Today I recognize in myself symptoms of grief and trauma, and know that I am sharing these feelings with the FS community, and in particular, the 151st A-100 and anyone who had the honor of serving with Anne. It is clear from Secretary Kerry's statement that he is also grieving. We are all in a state of disbelief, shock, and for many of us, the implicit fear for the safety of our loved ones. Anne life was significant, and her death cuts us all close to the heart.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/chi-diplomat-killed-20130406,0,389656.story

Expectations

I'm not much of a list maker--they usually end up forgotten on the counter along with any coupons I may have casually obtained. However, I find lists to be incredibly useful for organizing my thoughts--both task oriented and abstract.

So, in anticipation of our transfer to Albania, I'm going to share a list of my expectations for the move: those I'm looking forward to, and those of which I'm afraid.

The Good

1. Help, in the form of a helper. We've already hired our housekeeper/babysitter, who I hope will still be waiting for us when we arrive. I am just about foaming at the mouth at not being able to take a yoga class, go the gym, or work at my computer without interruption, much less teach yoga, volunteer, or otherwise exercise my brain beyond being a full time mama.

2. Work. EFM jobs are scarce in Tirana, and so I'm not holding out much hope of being able to work at the Embassy. However, that reality has forced me to seriously consider developing a portable career beyond teaching yoga.

3. House. That is, to really be able to settle in for two years, and the return of our HHE.

4. Albania, Europe, and the Balkans. Never have I so looked forward to the travel opportunities that will be at our fingertips, and hope that neighboring Italy will be enough bait for our friends and family to visit.

5. Mountains. Apparently we have a view of a small mountain range from the back of our house. Heaven!

6. Space. The density of NoVa and DC was initially unwelcome after two years in Manila. Thank gosh for the wonderful parks in this area, and I hope that Tirana will offer similar natural comforts.

7. Baby love. Like Filipinos, Albanians love children, and sweet Kyle's a flirt.

The Bad (maybe)
I have no idea what I will find in Tirana, so these are just fears.

1. Air pollution. People talk about the city being polluted, but I can't believe it. After Manila, I think only China could impress me.

2. Feeling trapped in my house. Will the area be walkable? Driveable? Will not speaking Albania turn out to be a significant problem? Will leaving my house be such a chaotic experience that I end up hanging out on the compound due to exhaustion?

3. Size of the expat community. Nearly everyone who's been in Tirana really enjoyed the post, and I'm not detecting a lot of hedging. However, it is a smaller post--about 1/6 the size of Manila, so I don't know what to expect.

4. Work. I was able to accomplish everything I wanted to accomplish in Manila, and earn money. Will the same be true in Tirana?

5. Family. It has been wonderful to spend so much time with my friends and family, and witness how attached Kyle has become to my parents, and vice versa. As far as I'm concerned, the travel time to Tirana is a breeze compared to the 26+ hour ordeal that was traveling to Manila, but not everyone has that perspective, nor is everyone as comfortable with air travel.

6. Groceries, illness, and ease of errand-doing. Tirana is a 20% hardship with consumables, so I expect that all the above will present difficulties.

What will I think of my list a year from now? Hopefully I'll remember I wrote this list. :)

Musings of a reluctant mover

In my luxurious life as an EFM, I look forward to dragging my reluctant bum away from yet another home. A home that, once again, I will have spent five months resisting, one month enjoying, and four months freaking out about leaving.

This life would be so much easier if I didn't have dogs, child, cars, or any material goods whatsoever. Of course, such unencumbered and unaccompanied lives have their own challenges, and, all things considered, I would not choose that for myself.

SO, once again, we prepare for packout. Do other people stress out about not having access to a rocking chair for two months? Do they stay up at night wondering if their dog will not be allowed to re-board the plane in Vienna because the Austrians use a 15 digit chip reader instead of a 10 digit reader? Do they spend a great deal of time wondering if they should ship crates of tomato paste to their new homes?

Probably not. Unless they also drag their reluctant bums around the world every year or three.

There are many gaps of support in the FAM, the FS regulations for everything domestic. For example, we couldn't sell our truck in Manila without taking a huge loss (as in, $10K). But even though we were required to spend a year in DC for training, we were only allotted one car shipment, which we used to bring the truck home. The truck is just about sold, and for a good price for both buyer and seller--yay--but now we worry about buying a car in Albania. We could of course buy a new car from somewhere in Europe, but then won't we be in the same boat when we are leaving Albania? The boat where your car is too expensive for both the locals and the Embassy community, and you anticipate at least six months of training in NoVA, where you will need a car? Sigh.

There are also many strengths, most of which, having been back in the US for almost a year, I've forgotten about. But I remember feeling pretty well taken care of, despite our housing adventures. This time we have been assigned a 3 bedroom home where we will likely have enough room to unpack, and a guest room, which is all I want from my life in the FS. That, and a good babysitter who will also do the vacuuming.

A jet-lagged FS family walks into America ...

A woman walks into a bar and orders a hard cider, then looks at a menu. She learns that the cider she just ordered was $15, and has a minor panic attack. Then she sees that the cheapest meal on the menu is a $12 sandwich.

A couple go to Sunday brunch in a restaurant with their baby. The baby gets tired of sitting and decides he needs to walk around and visit people. The couple get the stink eye from their fellow brunchers.

A man walks into Harris Teeter to buy five staple items: milk, lettuce, coffee, bread, and chicken. He leaves Harris Teeter wondering what happened to his $50.

A woman pushes a stroller through a shopping area with her two dogs and incredibly adorable, blue-eyed baby. People repeatedly stop to gush over the dogs.

A man discussing pop culture with his classmates asks, "What's a snooki?"

SAHMing it up in the US

Even outside of the State Department there's an acronym for everything. Two and a half years ago I was a LCSW working for HOTC, then I was an EFM working at CLO, now I'm a SAHM taking care of my LO, American style.

What's a SAHM, American style, you ask? A person who's current job has incredible purpose, but no time off, and is paid in hugs, smiles, and baby giggles. A person who's secondary responsibilities are usually housework, food prep, and in my case, dog wrangling.  A person who has realized how precious time is, both because he or she has the opportunity to watch a little human transform before his or her eyes (sometimes they get taller overnight), and because any time that is not spent working is precious. Very precious. A SAHM is a stay at home mom.

Why American style? Because American hyper-individualism and our transitory lifestyle, even those who are based domestically, makes full time mothering at home a job with a very heavy workload, and it is not a job that is universally appreciated or understood. The following is NOT a statement about childless people; it is simply a statement of fact: until you have been a full time stay at home parent, or are the spouse of one, you have no idea how much work goes into doing even a moderately competent job of it. And getting help is not as simple as it sounds. Babies can not be easily delegated. 

My adjustment to being a SAHM was rough, but it has been easier than my adjustment to other changes in my lifestyle, such as moving to Manila. It was also concurrent with our repatriation back home, which is, believe it or not, a process of adjusting to culture stress, especially when you land in Washington, DC in the heat  and hostility of a Presidential election. However, although it does not have super-affordable mama's helpers such as nannies or domestic assistance of any kind, the US does have a lot of energetic women (and a few men) who create their own support systems and figure out how to make being a SAHM (or Dad) work. It also helps to adjust one's priorities, and realize that those secondary responsibilities are WAY down on the list of priorities.

It is not helpful when people spout platitudes such as "appreciate this time because they grow up fast," but buried in the platitude is truth: this beautiful little being changes every day, and someday I will not be able to scoop him up and give him a raspberry to the music of his laughter, his kisses will not be open-mouthed baby maulings, and he probably won't laugh when he farts (he may find them funny, but it won't be as innocent). So as difficult as the day to day work is, I make space for gratitude that I am having this experience. It also helps to know that in a few months I will again have the opportunity to look for a second job, should I want one. Which I will, as long as I can find a good daytime mama's helper. 

Pregnant lady on the move!

No, I am not, thank gosh, pregnant again, but one year ago this week my beautiful baby boy was born, and I've never shared my  experinece of my FS OB med-evac.

Although it is State policy to recommend that all women return to the US to give birth, many FS women give birth abroad and have good experiences. Manila has excellent medical care and I loved my Filipino OB, Dr. H. However, this being my first birth experience, I wanted to be with my family in my own country, and also wanted to use a hospital-based midwife (which I highly recommend). Plus, I didn't want to deny my baby the ability to run for President. God help him if he takes that task on.

First, the facts. If you choose to return home or give birth in your region's med evac point (EAP's is Singapore), you will receive housing and meals per diem for 12 weeks: 6 weeks before birth and 6 weeks after. In general, MED is pretty strict about this timing, so if you want to depart earlier or return to post later, you will be paying out of pocket for the extra days. My boss, the CLO, was very generous and accommodated me taking 16 weeks of maternity leave. State does not offer paid maternity or paternity leave, so once you have used up your annual and sick leave you go on LWOP status. 

Your per diem allowance varies based on where you go. In Florida my allowance was only $88/night, which is absurdly low for the area, amd so I stayed with my parents for the duration of my med evac. If you return to DC, your allowance is appropriate for housing costs in the area. If your due date falls during home leave or a DC assignment, you are not on a med evac and are on your own.

The pros to returning home are obvious: familiar medical care setting with providers who speak English--can you imagine being in labor and trying to speak a newly acquired language, if you even had language training?--easier access for family members to meet the baby, and the convenience benefits of being in the US. Drawbacks: if your per diem is insufficient and you can't afford to get an extended stay hotel room, crashing with your folks for 4 months with a new baby is a lot to ask of one's family, unless they live in a very large house and have a cook and a maid. My parents were wonderful and extremely generous, but they do not have the aforementioned house and helpers.

In addition, if your embassy is short-staffed or very small, it may be more difficult for Dad to be present for the birth AND the first few weeks of newborn care, which is hard on both parents. If you have the baby at post, Dad has more flexibility, and Mom likely has a domestic helper at home.

I am glad I returned home for Kyle's birth, and if i have another baby my choice to med evac or not will depend on the situation. In Albania, having the baby in country is not an option due to lack of sufficient medical care. Other than freaking out, I'm not sure what MED would do if one hired a local midwife and insisted on a home birth. Probably revoke your medical clearance. 

If you have any questions about being in the FS while pregnant, please don't hesitate to ask.