An Observation

Not Hanoi

How distant Hanoi seems when you’re sitting on the beach sipping mojitos, feeling the breeze from offshore than causes the waves to tumble into the shore, and munching deliciously fresh grilled seafood.  There are no honking motorbikes, no ridiculous traffic, no miles of pavement.  There are simply friends, food, and sea.

Where was this idyllic island?  Just south of the southern tip of Vietnam, on Phu Quoc.  It’s not an island paradise, there are fish sauce factories, let’s be real, but the Mango Bay resort was relaxing with it’s rustic bungalows and excellent food.  The big group of us toured a bit of the island – the aforementioned fish-sauce factory, a gorgeous waterfall, beautiful white-sand beach, and lovely day on choppy water in the bay – and spent the rest of the time doing our own thing.

Sunset

I have nothing insightful or profound to offer about our time on Phu Quoc.  When you go to a resort, even a rustic resort, you don’t have many stories because nothing really crazy is supposed to happen.  You go, you have a great time, take some photos, enjoy the break from crazy Hanoi where you might get run over or find that you snap when the creepy guy in the building talks to you one too many times about some random subject in broken English, and hope to hang onto that bliss.

At this point you’re wondering, “If you’ve called this ‘An Observation’ and you’re not observing anything about Phu Quoc, when are you going to get to the point?”  I’ll ramble on.  The rest of the week away was a TDY assignment to the Consulate in Ho Chi Minh City where they do about triple the non-immigrant visa volume per day and have one of the busiest immigrant visa sections (5th is the number I hear thrown about).  What’s interesting to observe here?

Fingerprints.  Yes, this is additional proof that women do all the work in this country.  You see it on the streets everywhere.  It’s women who carry those old bamboo poles with thirty pounds of produce hanging off both ends. It’s women on the sidewalk setting up the portable luncheon food stall. It’s women in the market. It’s women in the rice paddies.  Where are the men? Sitting, smoking, drinking.

The women work so much it wears into their bodies, into their prints.  This past week, I had to take fingerprints (no ink, just a scanner).  In doing a few hundred, I saw a few few categories of people.  There are men (or boys) of any age; there are young girls; and then there are the women older than about 25 or so.  Men, even men from the farm, seem to have good fingerprints.  They can press hard and their fingers reach the scan areas much better.  Younger folks – students or recent graduates – also have nice prints. Why?  They haven’t worked yet or gotten married.  It’s the 25+ women’s hands that show they who does the work that holds the country together.  They’re fingerprints are cracked and scarred by what I can only guess is cooking, cleaning, and perhaps even the type of work they do in the field.  Almost every woman has some sort of her fingerprint look like a sun-parched lake bed in Death Valley.  Work simply wears their prints away.

I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked at this.  I may even be wrong about why there is such a difference, but I’m pretty sure it’s the harsh chemical cleaners that must leave the skin dry and cracked.  I wish I had a photo to show what I mean, but it’s really not necessary.  Like I said before, you go on the street and see who is hustling for the family and who is lounging on the motorbike puffing a cigarette waiting for something to happen.  And there you have it; a ramble that lead to an observation.

A-100 – Week 1

Week 1 and Weekend 1 are both over.  They often say that you’re drinking from a fire hose.  Where else have I heard that?  Oh yeah, in the Navy.  I would have to say it’s true, but somehow I just don’t feel as overwhelmed.  Maybe it’s just coming out of the school environment, maybe it’s being in the right job, but I’m not feeling as though I’m drowning in information.  I’m tired and I ache from sitting all day, but my brain is not full.  Perhaps it’s just hungry for info that I suspect I will use in my job.

Day 1 of Week 1 was in-processing – badges, benefits, and briefings.  I met folks in the lobby of Archstone Courthouse, thinking it was Oakwood Rosslyn and not really knowing the difference, and heading in.  We got to know each other in long lines and metro trips home.

The rest of the Week 1 blurred together as we learned everything from how our fate for the next few years is sealed – a complicated jigsaw puzzle of preferences, skills, luck (serendipity as they call it), and needs of the service – to how the State Department does its thing, to what happens when you leave your laptop unattended at a conference.  As you might guess, your laptop gets stolen.  It’s part of our cybersecurity awareness and training.

Overall, I’d have to say getting the bid list was exciting (Oh the Places I may go), but not the most exciting.  The most exciting was a serendipitous conversation with a fellow A-100 colleague where he said he just felt like he was in the right place with good people.  That’s how I feel, too.  It’s great to have all the benefits, but when you’re doing bad stuff – like packing bad mortgages you know will fail into a product you sell to other people just so you can bet against them – it just doesn’t nurture the soul.

Although the work I’ll do is not development in nature, there are opportunities to be involved in the US efforts to rebuild broken places and build local government capacity.  It’s heady stuff.  My work will most likely be on the visa line first, but it will lead to some cool assignments.  With that, Week 2 begins.

FSO – Oral Exam

Monday is the big day. I have my Oral Exam at the State Department. It all starts at 7am. By late afternoon, I will know whether I made the cut for the Obama/Clinton Foreign Service Team.

I spent most of this week coming my records for old addresses and tightening up my statement of interest for the Foreign Service. You get a page to state why you want to join the Foreign Service. For me, it boils down to public service, work overseas, and working on some of the most important and critical issues the country and the world have faced.

I have a hotel for Sunday night – one about 1/2 mile from the State Department Building, which will make it easier to arrive by 7am. Although, I’d like the exam to be over and I’d like to know I’m in, I’m going to enjoy the weekend hanging out with Chris, Michelle & their new baby, Baby J, as well as my sister and family when they come up for the day.

More to post on Monday.