Who wants to live forever?

"Wouldn't it suck" newly acquired husband asked, "if we were the last generation of people to die?"

The Lure of Dirt and Disease

I was exchanging emails with a friend on malaria prophylaxis and its ugly side effects, when she finished off the conversation saying that all this talk of loosing one's mind on Lariam, puking one's guts out in general, loosing all power of birth control pills on doxycycline and getting various girly infections due to being on antibiotics for a long time really got her jealous and itchy footed to go somewhere. Strangely I know what she means. When friends of ours shipped off to do the Peace Corps in Peru a few years ago when I had just returned from a longer stay in South America, thus still clued in to all the different amoebas awaiting one there, I was actually jealous too of the bottles and tubes of things they had lined up on their table. Arguably it is the point and the merit of living in the western world is that one does not have to worry about drinking the tab water and eat antibiotics every day in order to keep a minimum level of health. However, there is something exciting about travel that does necessitate all these precautions. Maybe that is the difference between travel and a vacation. The latter is striving for comfort, maybe some adventure, maybe some relaxation, but the former is all about the inconveniences of leaving the sanitized mother ship. A good vacation is one where shit works out, an interesting trip is something where shit does not work out and from shit not working out one is confronted with something that is also not covered by Lonely Planet or The Rough Guide and it is then when things get interesting. Maybe that is the nostalgia about malaria prophylaxis. Also, lets be clear here: in theory it's adventurous to pull some nasty worm out of your leg while taking a swig of your whisky bottle while outside a small African nation is staging its third revolt against everyone foreign especially whitie you, but in practice of course it's a lot nicer to eat your malaria pills and just miss (by a hair so it's a good story) true disaster and disease. Knock on wood. On a side note: Lariam makes for amazing dreams. I recall Wednesday night, malaria pill night on a previous trip being my favorite night ever, every week a new treat. Some people do freak out though like on a bad acid trip, so be aware. The problem beyond that is that in SE Asia most malaria strands are already resistant, so the other option are those antibiotics. And on more of a side note: the nurse who prescribed them to me quickly clicked close on the little window that popped up when she put the prescription in the computer. I made her go back because I thought I saw the world "pregnant" floating in there somewhere...and yep, as I already mentioned doxycycline makes the pill useless. Well now, isn't that nice to know. The competence of a medical professional is never to be underestimated. Instead of worrying about whether Thai curry is nicer than Indian curry, we'd be worrying about whether it will be Little Jonny or Little Jane. Phew. Saved by the bell. 

Singapore Sling

A quick search on flickr did not yield much bloggable stuff in terms of Singapore slings. Either that means they are waiting for little me to become the officious photographer of Singapore, or it really is as boring as I remember!

Lets go with option 1 and hurrah, here we come. 

Passover

There is something so amazing about the calm and righteousness of a true believer. The stoic ability to stand their ground and say outragious things with a clarity and complete conviction. It also scares the shit out of me.

The economizing office in the the absence of the British Jewish boss celebrating passover on a sunny island somewhere, is manned by a Pakistani Muslim, an Australian Christian and little me. Inevitably we talk about passover. I talk about my favorites, the excessive wine and the Charoses (sp?) when Australian economist pops his head over the cubicle barrier and says with conviction that I am not understanding the whole story and its important message at which point he launches into an explanation of the whole story and its important message.

The true meaning you see is the parallel between the suffering of the Israelites in Egyptian captivity and the message of Jesus Christ. The fact that the Israelite's first born son's were spared due to their obedience to God's wish and their putting blood of the sacrificial lamb on the door of their house shows the mercy of God and Christ and the need for you and me to believe and obey.

The escape of the Israelites from Egypt with the red sea parting for the Israelites but crashing down on the Egyptians that chase them is the meaning of believing some more: Jesus saves those who believe in him and becomes brings death upon those that do not. Here I can barely contain a smirk. Is this guy truly telling me he literally believes in the actual sea parting, as in water masses moving to the sides? We are not talking a random flash flood due to some insane moon activity, we are talking a purposeful parting of the waves in order to reward and punish respectively (WAIT A SECOND! The Asian tsunami of 2006 did happen the day after Christmas..). Moving on.

Being in captivity in Egypt is like having to fight Satan. As any Christian will tell you (according to Australian economist) just when Jesus has found his way into your heart, Satan will come after you. He will tempt you. He will try to make you do crazy things like jump off the balcony. Satan will try to enslave you, make you his. Just like the Egyptians tried to do with the Israelites.

Now onto faith: The lamb that was slain and whose blood had to be used to mark the houses where the Israelites lived is quite obviously Jesus' blood and the angel of death out searching for first born sons to kill will spare you if you believe and thus slay the lamb and mark your house.

Fun fact: The Israelites were instructed not to break the bones of the lamb when they killed it. This instruction only make sense if you know the lamb is Jesus because apparently when people got crucified they did not die for a long time and to hurry up the process people would show up at night and break their bones to make them die faster. Don't ask me if and how that works. However, in Jesus' case when they came to break his bones, he was already dead. Thus in order for the parallel to work out perfectly in its foresight, the lamb's bones should stay intact as well.

I pointed out that in fact the current Israelites are not so hot on Jesus at which point Australian economist jumped off his chair, shouting and pointing "and that is the tragedy! But they will! One day they will believe! The old testament is predicting that they will deny the symbolism of the sacrifice that Jesus made and they will try to tell their children that passover is not about a sacrifice" but here he pulls out Exodus 12:26 and quotes that in fact they ought to be telling their children that passover is celebrated to honor this sacrifice and by doing so they will be implicitly telling their children to believe in Jesus Christ.

Without meaning too much disrespect to anyone, it's pretty hard for me to follow how back in the days all these amazing things happened like parting seas, angles swooping down killing first born sons and bread that should have run out a long time ago just replenishing itself over and over. I mean if that sort of stuff were to happen today, maybe I would be a believer too but it's been pretty calm on the eastern front as of late.

Freemale

There was a piece in a Sunday paper that gave the label spinster a new twist: the twist of freedom. It turns out that a woman who possesses everything a man has ever wanted, say education, skill and determination to succeed, can,  despite her nearing her late 20s or *gasp* 30s, be OK. That's right. She may actually take a break from her sleepless nights agonizing over her singleness and be ok. Yes, just like that. There you have it. New research shows. She might even like it. This is when a spinster turns freemale. 

Let me say that I did not actually read this article, I just heard about it.  In any case the champagne fueled discussion with two highly successful and as far as a casual observation can tell, ok-seeming single female friends of mine got me all upset that I could not be both a freemale and married. The way being a freemale was described was so decidedly what I think any girl strives to be: happy, independent, successful, oozing rock 'n roll. Does anyone not want that? My ok-seeming spinster friends now upgraded to freemales were not at all thrilled about their new label. Why, they argued, is it necessary to point out that a single girl can actually be happy and enjoy her life? Why is that even newsworthy? There are no articles written about males approaching their 30s, unmarried, rich, successful, happy AND better yet, ok. It seems obvious they would be ok. 

Looking at the article from that perspective I get their negative reaction. I guess my first reaction is similar: why categorize a woman by her relationship status at all. I mean is the next big insight that women in relationships also can be happy about their life outside their relationship? Or is that obvious, because after all they are in a relationship, so why would they not be ok? Can one separate their ok-ness that is due to being a successful, independent individual and their ok-ness due to being a married woman? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am being a bit self-righteous here. Sometimes it is really tough. I mean, am I happy right now that I get to go to India in a month or am I happy that I am a married girl whose husband will carry her large ass backpack all through India in a month? I just don't know. 

I did learn from the primate studying freemale that unmarried folks die earlier than married folks but we were unable to determine if that is due to some great emotional strength acquired during marriage or if it's simply due to the fact that someone else is around to dial 911 during your first heart attack. So on that note I am happy that newly acquired husband will be in India with me to open and close the window of whatever topsy turvey bus I may have to learn out of after ingesting whatever food makes one sick in India. I hear the options are plentiful. 

Quarter Life Crisis

So I am a bit of a wreck. 

In order to work in Singapore I need to become an entrepreneur. I am not an entrepreneur. I don't write business plans. I don't envision any direction for any company. I don't get giddy at growth opportunities. I just want to do my thing (see the next five paragraphs on how I don't even know what the hell that thing is supposed to be - but lets keep the whining nicely in order). Unfortunately, in order to do my thing however defined, I need to be able to have a work permit.  Given that my employer remains in London and I am a de facto freelancer, (a concept that is lost on Singaporean bureaucracy), this means I need to create my own company; Little Me Incorporated so to speak. Before I dwell on why that is complicated lets get right to little me's dilemma. 

I don't even like my job, why should I write up business plans and grander visions for the future? It seems sweet fate cracking itself up: Me, the person who thinks the whole damn exercise called my job is pointless, is supposed to write up ten pages on why it will help Singapore become even more awesome for businesses like Little Me Incorporated to move there and make more money so that more people can do it all over. Wow. I know. I do this to all my friends and even strangers on a plane about every three months. I need to shut up and either get a new job, one that I do like, or suck it up and realize that maybe I am not gutsy enough to do something scary, potentially exciting, potentially disastrous. 

So here I am making to-do lists of all the things that need to be disconnected, re-routed, consumed, injected while getting excited about a new beginning because I always get excited about new beginnings. New beginnings are all about the potential, not so much the reality and that is exactly my problem. I stress about this work visa and Incorporated Little Me thing but really I am stressing about my inability to take a real huge fucking risk and go to Singapore or Timbuktu or wherever and ACTUALLY make a change. There is plenty of potential but how about the action?

I don't want to crunch numbers forever, not even for the world bank or the UN or fill in the blank fabulous organization that I have always dreamt of working for. I simply cannot see myself being anything but a number cruncher and report writer because I can't manage to get my heart rate up at even the most exciting number crunching. I really want to, but I just can't. And precisely because I just can't do it will I always stay a number cruncher and report writer, a true and earnest paper shuffler. That's kind of how it goes when you don't give an indirect sumproducts damn about what you do. 

That's it on the self-pity front for today. Is it that my quarter life crisis is making it's way into a third life crisis? Will it continue into a midlife crisis at which point I will storm out on newly acquired husband and our nine precious children, take the leash off the golden retriever, piss on the picket fence and THEN do something ridiculous when I could have tried something now at least kept looking for something that really excites me - today, yesterday, last year?

Into the Sunset

Poster shot - Air India Boeing 747-400 in flight
Originally uploaded by temp13rec.

When: May 20th, 2008

Where to: London - Mumbai

Status: Booked

But before that we will roast a pig. On a stick. And drink mojitos. And you will be invited just as soon as we can get our little selves organized.

Late Night Salami

Let me recap the highlights of the past 24 hours.

Spent a good chunk of time last night in the apartment of my dear boss. We rent flats instead of hotel rooms cause the mafia owns all the hotels and refuses to invest in them - thus no internet. Anyway, so sitting on a velvet red couch in your bosses temporary home at 2am eating Nutella straight from the glass, becoming completely loopey, already feels like a date gone wrong. And then there was the salami. I knew he bought this awesome Ukrainian salami. The whole thing. At 2 am I really really wanted a piece of awesome Ukrainian salami. I was about to form the words: May I please try a piece of your extra large salami - when I realized the double (or single?) meaning of what I was about to say. So I refrained. And bought my very own large Ukrainian salami today. Good stuff. Ha.

Then today we had a bunch of meetings canceled because the guys who the meetings were with were not allowed to leave their offices. They are only deputy ministers. And this must be the most tightly run ship of ministers I have ever seen. Seriously. Not allowed to leave the office to travel across town to meet a bunch of independent consultants. That blows my mind.

Next up we got the girls who sit in empty offices. The entire ministry of X is filled with huge overheated offices (we try to restructure some markets here but as of now people can't even turn their own heat on or off so that's maybe another indicator of central top down control). There is one girl in glittery heels and a shiny blouse who hides behind a large PC on which she types meeting notes and lookes at pictures of her nieces. At noon she chases everyone out of the room so that she can lock the room and go to lunch. At one she is back. At five she wants to leave and at six she throws you regardless of who you are having a meeting with. Behind this girl on the large PC sits another girl without a PC. She got he second row seat so to speak. She sits there. She twirls her hair and she readjusts her scarf. When the first girl leaves the room for a few minutes, she sits in her chair and presumably holds the responsibility of whatever it is exactly the first girl is responsible for.

That's all I got tonight.

Kiev Chicken

I have been spending way too many hours running workshops of simulations of reality based on theoretical constructs that start with "assuming x and y are awesome, predictible variables based on rational and unchanging behaviours"...enough of that.

Last time I was so fortunate to stay right by the Kiev furnicular contraption that lead me down to the river and up to the golden dome. I think that might be all the sightseeing I will ever get done here.This time my apartment in the center of all the bling and the ladies parading in dangerous looking diamond studded stilettos. It is being rented out by people who have long retired to their dachas. Good to know capitalism worked for some at least. The little babuchkas who lost their life savings when the currency was devalued in the 90s certainly are not so fortunate. I do buy my apples from them, but I am unsure how they sustain themselves on their little odd jobs.

In any case, the premises are heavily secured and the way in is a bit ardulous. Three garage style doors with different number combinations, then some padlocks and finally a padded (from the outside mind you) door to the flat. Interestingly enough the windows are made out of plywood and don't really lock. I guess one must take a chance somewhere.

So and to all of you world travelers out there. If you had to make a decision between living in Singapore or Dubai, which one would you choose and why? Some short essays please.

All Work No Play

82/365 Shoot me Now
Originally uploaded by Christiane B

So this is kind of what's been going on over here.

Newly acquired husband will return from his Asian quest today and we'll have to make some decision over the weekend. OHO, the weekend. Going to Belfast. For no particular reason. Mainly to drive around the old conflict hot spots and to stress out my boss because on Monday morning I am off to Kiev but on Sunday it is supposed to snow and you know what happens in London when it snows? Things shut down. Sort of like airports. Like the airport I am flying back into from Belfast?

Well, we'll see. Back to running iterations of economic things that don't work in the first place. I think I am loosing my mind a bit. When I saw the crap weather over the weekend I just told myself, 'no problem. I'll just change the inputs and re-run the model'. If only it was that easy. Oh but wait, it's not easy. And that's why I better hurry on along.