I have been reticent about posting something about my latest adventure, but I think the time has come and anyone who reads this thing already knows what’s going on in my life most of the time anyway. Also, if I fail in my quest, hopefully none of you will point and laugh and call me a loser. And if you do, hopefully it will be for another reason, like I lost at Stump or Catan, or if I forgot to bathe the baby for the last two weeks.
I have register and am scheduled to take the Foreign Service Officer Test (FSOT) on December 8th at 8:30am. For the last three weeks I have been studying, on and off, everything from the US Constitution, to world geography, to economics, to management theory. I have taken most of the practice exams I have found on the Internet, and probably will take some more before the eighth.
I have been making flash cards, cheat sheets and notes. I have been reading The Week, The Economist, Discover, and Spin Magazine (for the culture information.) And I have been researching anything that pops into my head as being important on Wikipedia and other sites.
In between the studying, travel for work, Thanksgiving Dinner for seven, Piper’s birthday and the general, get up, feed kids, take BB to daycare, go to work, make dinner, eat dinner, bathe children, go to bed stuff, I have been crocheting like a mad woman and have started a new blog to capture my crafting and crocheting projects. I have gotten a little obsessive about it, but am having fun. I think the crocheting is partly an escape from studying as well.
So, think about me on December 8th at 8:30am. It is a four hour exam (with breaks, I hope) and I will be ready to party hardy when I get out of there (or maybe just go back home to sleep.) Then it is 10-12 weeks until we get the results. That is the scary part. I am not scared about failing. I am scared that I might pass; and then what?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Daycare Drama
You can’t always protect your kids against everything. I put Bronwen’s health, wellbeing and character building into the hands of a relative stranger every morning when I drop her off at daycare. And every evening when I come to pick her up I am relieved to see that she is fine, well fed, and happy. Yesterday evening was different, however, and the experience has left me a little nervous about dropping her off this morning.
I arrived to pick her up around 5pm and I walked the long hall all the way down to the end where her classroom is located. I usually stand outside the window of the door and try to observe her before she sees me. Usually, she is playing with the other kids, fighting over toys and riding around on their little kid scooters. I stood there scanning the room and was unable to find her. This is not terribly unusual as sometimes she is playing behind the changing table and is therefore obstructed from view. I opened the door and walked into the room. The woman working said hi and told me that Bronwen had been taken down to another room with some of the older kids (14-24months).*
I walked all the way back down the long hall to the first room and did my usual peek into the room. To my absolute horror, here is what I observed. Like wild dogs circling their prey, three 2 year olds were circling a seated Bronwen. Two of the kids were poking her in the eyes, and one little boy was pulling her hair. She was just sitting there looking resigned, like this happens all the time! I looked around for the teachers, one was vacuuming, hence drowning out Bronwen’s cries, and the other was straightening up around the room. The boy pulling her hair grabbed a huge handful and tugged so hard she fell backwards. It was then that I burst into the room, which made one of the teachers look over to see what was happening.
“What is going on?” I asked rushing over to pick up my screaming child.
“No pulling hair!” the lady yelled at the little boy, pulling him over to the corner, I think to avoid my question.
“All the big kids are picking on you Bronwen!” I said loudly, “let’s get out of here.”
I turned to the no longer vacuuming teacher and said, “When is Bronwen scheduled to move into this room? I don’t think it should be anytime soon.”
“No, she is far down on the list,” the teacher said looking sheepish.
“Good.”
Little kids are pretty resilient. Bronwen had stopped crying soon after I picked her up and was not injured. When we went to leave, I put her down next to the little boy who had pulled her hair and told to say “bye bye!” He seemed to be feeling sorry after the teacher had yelled at him and he was trying to reach out and pat her. She leaned over towards him and punched him in the chest. I had to reprimand her for hitting, but it was pretty great. I won’t have to worry about her too much.
I arrived to pick her up around 5pm and I walked the long hall all the way down to the end where her classroom is located. I usually stand outside the window of the door and try to observe her before she sees me. Usually, she is playing with the other kids, fighting over toys and riding around on their little kid scooters. I stood there scanning the room and was unable to find her. This is not terribly unusual as sometimes she is playing behind the changing table and is therefore obstructed from view. I opened the door and walked into the room. The woman working said hi and told me that Bronwen had been taken down to another room with some of the older kids (14-24months).*
I walked all the way back down the long hall to the first room and did my usual peek into the room. To my absolute horror, here is what I observed. Like wild dogs circling their prey, three 2 year olds were circling a seated Bronwen. Two of the kids were poking her in the eyes, and one little boy was pulling her hair. She was just sitting there looking resigned, like this happens all the time! I looked around for the teachers, one was vacuuming, hence drowning out Bronwen’s cries, and the other was straightening up around the room. The boy pulling her hair grabbed a huge handful and tugged so hard she fell backwards. It was then that I burst into the room, which made one of the teachers look over to see what was happening.
“What is going on?” I asked rushing over to pick up my screaming child.
“No pulling hair!” the lady yelled at the little boy, pulling him over to the corner, I think to avoid my question.
“All the big kids are picking on you Bronwen!” I said loudly, “let’s get out of here.”
I turned to the no longer vacuuming teacher and said, “When is Bronwen scheduled to move into this room? I don’t think it should be anytime soon.”
“No, she is far down on the list,” the teacher said looking sheepish.
“Good.”
Little kids are pretty resilient. Bronwen had stopped crying soon after I picked her up and was not injured. When we went to leave, I put her down next to the little boy who had pulled her hair and told to say “bye bye!” He seemed to be feeling sorry after the teacher had yelled at him and he was trying to reach out and pat her. She leaned over towards him and punched him in the chest. I had to reprimand her for hitting, but it was pretty great. I won’t have to worry about her too much.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A Return to Lafayette, LA
The last time I was in Lafayette, Louisiana, I was working for Krispy Kreme. I came down here to help train and open a brand new store. It was located in the front parking lot of Wallmart. I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be a very successful store. It was nearly impossible to get into the parking lot, and the average Lafayattian was already buying doughnuts in the grocery store.
The last time I was here, the owner of the franchise took us to an incredible restaurant where I ate about 14 pounds of crayfish, and where I purchase a t-shirt to commemorate the event! We took a fan boat through the bayou and saw crocodiles, birds, and those incredible cypress trees. We travelled to the Tabasco Factory, and spent time on Avery Island, watching crocodiles walking around the park.
The last time I was here, I was wasn't married, I wasn't a mother, and I was not in my thirties!
Today, when I landed in the tiny regional airport (the airport smelled funny, was kind of dirty, and it took FOREVER to get our luggage) I was struck by how familiar the place was. I have only been here once, and it was probably five years ago. I remembered the Avis parking lot, the exit to the airport and the road to town.
I checked into the hotel and decided to find some place to eat. Since it was Sunday, all the good cajun, po-boy places were closed. I found an Outback, pulled into the parking lot and realized, that I had eaten in this same restaurant five years ago. Not only that, across the street was the hotel I stayed in for a week last time I was here. I guess Lafayette is pretty small town.
Tomorrow and Tuesday, Orientation, then Wednesday morning I go back home. Hopefully, the Thanksgiving travel won't be too heavy and I should be home by 5pm.
The last time I was here, the owner of the franchise took us to an incredible restaurant where I ate about 14 pounds of crayfish, and where I purchase a t-shirt to commemorate the event! We took a fan boat through the bayou and saw crocodiles, birds, and those incredible cypress trees. We travelled to the Tabasco Factory, and spent time on Avery Island, watching crocodiles walking around the park.
The last time I was here, I was wasn't married, I wasn't a mother, and I was not in my thirties!
Today, when I landed in the tiny regional airport (the airport smelled funny, was kind of dirty, and it took FOREVER to get our luggage) I was struck by how familiar the place was. I have only been here once, and it was probably five years ago. I remembered the Avis parking lot, the exit to the airport and the road to town.
I checked into the hotel and decided to find some place to eat. Since it was Sunday, all the good cajun, po-boy places were closed. I found an Outback, pulled into the parking lot and realized, that I had eaten in this same restaurant five years ago. Not only that, across the street was the hotel I stayed in for a week last time I was here. I guess Lafayette is pretty small town.
Tomorrow and Tuesday, Orientation, then Wednesday morning I go back home. Hopefully, the Thanksgiving travel won't be too heavy and I should be home by 5pm.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Itanos Beach
On the second day that we were in Crete we planned to drive to Sitia to experience to open air market. Unfortunately, it rained that morning, and we were not really sure where exactly it was, so we slept in and lazed on our front patio, reading to each other. Amalia arrived later in the afternoon and laughed at us.
“Oh, that’s so cute,” she said to us as if she was describing the scene to us, “She’s reading to him and he’s laughing!”
We laughed along with Amalia for awhile; then she suggested that we go the beach. This was our second day and she suggested we drive to Vai. On the map of Crete, it looks like Vai is fairly far away, but it turned out that it was only a 10 minute drive north so we packed up the car with wine and food and left to discover our second beach.
Vai is a very popular beach because it is one of the few sand beaches in East Crete. We drove up the winding road, through palm trees and olive groves to a very beautiful beach; the shore was lined with chairs and relatively filled with people. At most beaches we went to there was no one or maybe one other couple there. Vai was filled with families, parents taking pictures of kids playing in the water, and couples cuddling on the provided beach chairs.
Dan and I were a bit overwhelmed by all of the people, (we had only talked to Amalia and Yorgo in the past two days), and so we walked the length of the beach and climbed up onto the rocks. It was late afternoon and the sea looked so beautiful we climbed back down (after taking lots of pictures) and rested in the sand. I wanted to swim and I did not have my bathing suit, but after looking around and realizing that most people had left the beach, I stripped down to my underwear and jumped in. The water was glorious and I swam for a little while.
Amalia had mentioned that Vai was pretty nice, but that the beach just a little further down the road was even nicer. After drying off a bit, we packed up our wine and food and drove down to Itanos. Itanos was the most beautiful of all beaches we went to. We were alone as we explored the beach and climbed onto the rocks. We finished our wine and were so smitten with the air, the sea, the rocks, we wrote a letter to Crete, rolled it into the empty wine bottle and tipsily threw it into the sea. We vowed we would come back to Itanos every day. We scrambled through 3000 year old ruins, mapped out our house, and imagined our life in a different time and place.
As we were leaving we discovered a little seating area some surfers or hikers had devised. Under a twisted beach tree were benches built into a stone wall, a refrigerator, filled with condiments and beer, and a round table. It was the perfect place to sit and contemplate the sea and the ruins on the rocks above. We never wanted to leave. That evening we drank Ouzo and dined with Amalia and Yorgo at his cousin’s restaurant in town. I ate rabbit in a lemon sauce and Dan had veal stew. Delicious.
“Oh, that’s so cute,” she said to us as if she was describing the scene to us, “She’s reading to him and he’s laughing!”
We laughed along with Amalia for awhile; then she suggested that we go the beach. This was our second day and she suggested we drive to Vai. On the map of Crete, it looks like Vai is fairly far away, but it turned out that it was only a 10 minute drive north so we packed up the car with wine and food and left to discover our second beach.
Vai is a very popular beach because it is one of the few sand beaches in East Crete. We drove up the winding road, through palm trees and olive groves to a very beautiful beach; the shore was lined with chairs and relatively filled with people. At most beaches we went to there was no one or maybe one other couple there. Vai was filled with families, parents taking pictures of kids playing in the water, and couples cuddling on the provided beach chairs.
Dan and I were a bit overwhelmed by all of the people, (we had only talked to Amalia and Yorgo in the past two days), and so we walked the length of the beach and climbed up onto the rocks. It was late afternoon and the sea looked so beautiful we climbed back down (after taking lots of pictures) and rested in the sand. I wanted to swim and I did not have my bathing suit, but after looking around and realizing that most people had left the beach, I stripped down to my underwear and jumped in. The water was glorious and I swam for a little while.
Amalia had mentioned that Vai was pretty nice, but that the beach just a little further down the road was even nicer. After drying off a bit, we packed up our wine and food and drove down to Itanos. Itanos was the most beautiful of all beaches we went to. We were alone as we explored the beach and climbed onto the rocks. We finished our wine and were so smitten with the air, the sea, the rocks, we wrote a letter to Crete, rolled it into the empty wine bottle and tipsily threw it into the sea. We vowed we would come back to Itanos every day. We scrambled through 3000 year old ruins, mapped out our house, and imagined our life in a different time and place.
As we were leaving we discovered a little seating area some surfers or hikers had devised. Under a twisted beach tree were benches built into a stone wall, a refrigerator, filled with condiments and beer, and a round table. It was the perfect place to sit and contemplate the sea and the ruins on the rocks above. We never wanted to leave. That evening we drank Ouzo and dined with Amalia and Yorgo at his cousin’s restaurant in town. I ate rabbit in a lemon sauce and Dan had veal stew. Delicious.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Kouremenous Beach
Everyday, except for the last two days we were there, it rained in Crete. It wasn’t a bad rain, very windy, with sudden down pours and then gentle misting until around lunch time when the wind would blow the clouds off to sea and the warm sun would come out and inspire us to get out of bed and go to the beach.
The beaches in East Crete are varied, but the majority are small swathes of pebbly sand protected on all sides by high rocky mountains. The water is clear and cool and nearly wave-less as it gently rolls the rocks into smoother and flatter shapes, perfect for skipping across the water.
We arrived in Palekastro during a huge thunder storm. We met up with Amalia and Yorgo, shared some delicious homemade soup, lemony pork broth with pork meatballs and zucchini stuffed with pork. Amazing! As the storm blew itself out we sat in the warmth of Amalia’s big house on the hill and gazed out at Kouremenous Beach. We agreed that as soon as the storm was gone we would walk down and explore. Around 4 pm the sun came out and we packed up our water bottle and camera and headed out. (Amalia was going to meet us down there with her old dog, Maggie, later).
We set off along the road but then decided to take a “shortcut” through the olive groves.
The olive branches were wet from the rain and soaked out backs as we ducked under and around the glistening branches. The smell of the damp earth mixed with the smell of the salty, fishy sea and it was then I fell in love with Crete.
Our “shortcut” may not have been the quickest way to the beach, but it was the most fun and we arrived at Kouremenous Beach damp and happy. We kicked off our shoes, rolled up our pants and began to explore out first beach. The flat rocks at Kouremenous are beautiful. Most are worn flat and smooth and most are black with veins of white quartz crisscrossing the surface. We gathered a handful and brought them back to our apartment, but they just are not the same once you pull them out of the ocean.
We walked from one end of the beach to the other end (where we named the hill “Snail Hill” as all of the rains had washed piles of snails down onto the beach.) As we walked back to our apartment, the sun was starting to set and we looked out across the dramatic rocky landscape and spotted our neighbor goats climbing the hill in front of our place, their clanking bells calling us home for dinner.
The beaches in East Crete are varied, but the majority are small swathes of pebbly sand protected on all sides by high rocky mountains. The water is clear and cool and nearly wave-less as it gently rolls the rocks into smoother and flatter shapes, perfect for skipping across the water.
We arrived in Palekastro during a huge thunder storm. We met up with Amalia and Yorgo, shared some delicious homemade soup, lemony pork broth with pork meatballs and zucchini stuffed with pork. Amazing! As the storm blew itself out we sat in the warmth of Amalia’s big house on the hill and gazed out at Kouremenous Beach. We agreed that as soon as the storm was gone we would walk down and explore. Around 4 pm the sun came out and we packed up our water bottle and camera and headed out. (Amalia was going to meet us down there with her old dog, Maggie, later).
We set off along the road but then decided to take a “shortcut” through the olive groves.
The olive branches were wet from the rain and soaked out backs as we ducked under and around the glistening branches. The smell of the damp earth mixed with the smell of the salty, fishy sea and it was then I fell in love with Crete.
Our “shortcut” may not have been the quickest way to the beach, but it was the most fun and we arrived at Kouremenous Beach damp and happy. We kicked off our shoes, rolled up our pants and began to explore out first beach. The flat rocks at Kouremenous are beautiful. Most are worn flat and smooth and most are black with veins of white quartz crisscrossing the surface. We gathered a handful and brought them back to our apartment, but they just are not the same once you pull them out of the ocean.
We walked from one end of the beach to the other end (where we named the hill “Snail Hill” as all of the rains had washed piles of snails down onto the beach.) As we walked back to our apartment, the sun was starting to set and we looked out across the dramatic rocky landscape and spotted our neighbor goats climbing the hill in front of our place, their clanking bells calling us home for dinner.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Driving in Crete
Driving in Crete was great. I love driving in foreign countries. (My experiences in England and Australia were varied and invariably hilarious. Like the time when I pulled up the wrong side of a tollbooth, could not figure out how to open the window and had to get out of the car to deliver the money to the tollbooth on the other side.)
We rented a car in Crete and had to get a taxi to take us from the hotel back to the airport to pick up the car. In the taxi cab, driving through the impossibly narrow roads of Heraklion, the driver expressed a little concern when we told him that he was driving up to pick up our rental car at the airport.
“In America,” he expressed in halting English, “you drive in the middle. DON’T drive in the middle in Crete.” We smiled and said that we would follow his advice, although I had not yet figured out exactly what he was talking about.
We picked up our car, a tiny Citroen 1.1, at the Avis lot, shoved our luggage into the back seat (we would discover later that the car was actually a four-door!), were talked into purchasing the supplemental insurance (“Just incase!”) and we headed out of the lot, into the pouring rain for our drive across the island.
It was instantly obvious what the taxi driver had been talking about. As Dan merged carefully onto the highway, car after car passed dangerously around us, heading into on-coming traffic and swerving elegantly back into the lane before any head-on collision occurred. If we had been driving in the US, someone surely would have died, but in Crete, you do not drive in the middle of your lane, you drive off in the shoulder, or at least as far in the shoulder as you can get. That way, the tiny little Cretan cars can squish between you on the shoulder and the car in the other lane without having to slow down. Even on the terrifyingly high and winding mountain roads, be prepared to slow down, ease into the ditch and let the car behind you pass.
Our little car took us all around Crete, on roads, I am sure this car was not made to traverse. But the little Citroen made it, and we returned it to the airport with half a tank of gas left, windshields covered in mud, and the glove compartment full of empty coke bottles.
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