Tag Archives: Foreign Service

You’ve Got Mail

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It all started with the Pony Express…

Okay, my ex-history-teacher of a husband (to clarify: “ex” being a modifier of history teacher and not husband) might take issue with that statement, as I am sure there was some type of postal delivery system long before North America was overrun with newbies, but the Pony Express is just so much more fun than whatever marathon-running postmen had to schlep mail across the hinterlands, rain or snow, sunshine or storm.

Regardless of where it started, we’ve got mail.

USPS has played varying roles in my life. I don’t remember getting much in the mail as a kid, other than maybe a yearly birthday card with a $10 bill stashed inside, from my grandma in Utah. I know I tried the pen pal thing a couple of times, but I don’t think we ever got passed the “What is your favorite color” and “Do you have any pets?” stage of correspondence before one or the other, or maybe both, gave up and moved on to chatting with friends we could see and whose names we could actually pronounce.

Mail was pretty much a non-entity in my life until I moved to college. Then, for the first time, it took on a vital role in my daily life. I lived in an on-campus apartment with five other girls (that’s right- six girls in one apartment. Who ever thought that was a good idea must have been smoking something that was definitely not allowed within the terms of the Honor Code!) and one mail key, which hung on a nail by the backdoor, awaiting its daily trek to the metal box outside the building’s entrance. Each day, the box was checked religiously by whichever roommate was home when the afternoon mail drop happened. (Okay, any roommate except for Emily, who was terrorized by a Nordic witch figurine that sat atop our stove, which she swore looked like something out of a horror movie she had seen. With this knowledge in hand, that little doll ended up anywhere Emily might look, including, but not limited to, the mailbox, her section of the medicine cabinet, her drawer of the fridge or her nightstand. (Remember, this was an apartment with six girls. *Everything* was divided up, from kitchen cabinets to shower shelf space to phone availability.) I remember getting a couple of care packages while a freshman, the first one including brownies, wrapped in tin foil, from my little brother who was a freshman in high school at the time. Who knew the kid could bake?

Then I moved to the Dominican Republic to do a semester abroad. (Tough gig, eh? We had classes four days a week and then a three-day weekend to hit the beach…I mean, study. Needless to say, this pasty-white girl from Idaho came home with the closest thing she’d ever had to a tan. Maybe I need to get Thad to bid on a Caribbean post for our next tour. It would take four months to get a working start on some color, but after two years, I might actually have a decent melatonin level!) There, mail was a different beast. Not only did it take weeks to come, but when it did come, the school often held it for a week or two before letting us know we had a letter. Care packages were expensive to send and it was probable that, if they did arrive, would arrive a little lighter than when they were shipped. Let’s just say Dominican customs inspectors always had the best housewarming and birthday gifts for any event to which they were invited.  But, while packages may have been hard to come by, I did get loads and loads of letters, all of which are still stashed away in shoe boxes, sitting in a long-term storage in Fredericksburg, Virginia, until further notice. (I hate to date myself here, but my Dominican days corresponded with the budding days of the internet. I had an email address, through Juno, but rarely used it and connections, even at the university, were nearly impossible to find. Hand-written letters were still the status quo.)

After coming home from the DR and getting married, mail suddenly took on the role of being the bearer of bills and ads. In the years pre and post- Peace Corps, I was doing well if I checked my mailbox a couple of times a week. I was just in no hurry for that college tuition statement, water bill or JC Penny’s flyer.

But then, the mail once again became key when we moved to China with the Peace Corps. Yes, we had a decent internet connection and I was in touch with family and friends via email on a regular basis, but the actual mail meant not only gifts at birthday and Christmas, but it created our on-campus English language library. With Middle Kingdom resources being scarce, nearly all 1000 of our English books and magazines came from the States, shipped by our friends and family and those of our colleagues. The Book Nook, a mini-institution in the backwaters of Gansu, would not have been possible without the USPS.

(Don’t get me started on the Chinese end of these transactions. It is an understatement to say the mail women in Chengxian hated me. Every time I got the tissue-like slip of paper saying I had a box at the local post office, I would skitter down there as soon as I had a break in my class schedule, excited for a new box of books to add to our growing collection. And every time, once I was there, I would have to go the rounds to get my box. Sometimes the women couldn’t find the package, even though I had the slip in hand. Sometimes they were taking their afternoon rest, so I was told to come back, even though technically the post office was open. Sometimes I had to get an official red stamp from some random person at the school to verify it was for me. Sometimes I had to show my Chinese ID card. And sometimes, the woman just didn’t feel like helping me and would shoo me away to come back and try another time. The only great thing about our local post office was they had glasses on a string. That’s right! Banks in America have pens on strings, but in China, our post office had these awesome, giant glasses on a string, I guess so if you needed reading lenses, you would have them available to properly complete your paperwork.)

Now that we are back in China for round two of the Zhongguo lifestyle, mail again plays a central role in our lives. Mail days are Tuesdays and Fridays, which are the afternoons when I eagerly await the email from our mail room saying “There is a little mail today.” With this pronouncement, there is a bit of a mass exodus out to the mail room for officers and families alike to collect their goods. Boxes are piled on the floor, magazines and letters are stashed in surname labeled bins and the mail room worker knows us all by name.

This last week as a particularly successful mail week for the Ross household. We received our bargained for package from the Hello Kitty queen. (Click here to read about the tough fought negotiations with a four-year old that ended up with me sending two rather large boxes of goods to her in exchange for some random items fished out of her toy box. I think I need to work on my business acumen.) This large padded envelope included the owed Hello Kitty-riding-a-dolphin picture, the Hello Kitty pencil left over from Valentine’s Day, and the McDonald’s Happy Meal giraffe. Plus, it had bonus items such as piñata  candy that may or may not have been stashed in my nephew’s shorts (whatever, I’m eating those Smarties!), a couple of friendship bracelets and a beaded necklace. Not too bad of a haul from Idaho.

And then today I got a long-coveted package- one that I’ve been talking about ordering since draft day. (Click here for my day-after-draft post.)  My Shea McClellin Chicago Bears (#99) jersey arrived in the Friday mail pile! Granted, the “small” jersey is nearly big enough for me to belt and wear as a dress, but I’ll be rocking that thing all over China in the next few months. (Stay tuned for those pictures!) While I am normally a Ravens fan, as they are the only American professional sports team to be named after a literary work, I’ve had to shift some loyalty to the Bears to support Shea, one of my former 8th grade English students from Marsing, Idaho. I will be proudly sporting that massive navy blue jersey this season, putting in a good word for him all around our Land of Pandas and doing more than a fair bit of bragging about a small-town kid working his tail off to achieve his NFL dreams. (Of course, I can’t take any credit for his football skills, but I would like to hope that he always uses “their/there/they’re” and “your/you’re” correctly!)

The internet may have created a quicker and simpler way than horse-back delivery to keep in touch with friends and family, but nothing will replace the kid-on-Christmas-morning feeling of cutting in to a box that has come half-way around the world. Whether said package is filled with Hostess chocolate pudding pies (Dad??) or a gift that always ends up back where it came from (Matt??), little is better than seeing a box on the floor of the mail room with ROSS written in big letters along its side.

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Balancing the Scale of Tourism vs. Residency

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You know how you can have lived in a place for years and years and still not have gone to some of the tourist destinations in your own backyard? Maybe you live in southern Idaho but have never slid down the Bruneau Sand Dunes or picked your way through Craters of the Moon. Or maybe you live in northern Utah but have yet to climb your way to the top of Mount Timpanogos or stroll through Temple Square. Or maybe you live in our nation’s capital but haven’t yet explored the Air and Space Museum or undertaken the long walk that loops around the monuments.

I think it is easy to forget what spectacular things we have right where we live because we get used to seeing the signs for them and as a species of procrastinators, we tend to put off visits to these great sites because we know they will be there next weekend or next summer or next year.

As Thad and I have lived in several different places over the last fourteen years of our marriage (Idaho, Utah, northern Virginia, China X2), we have learned to not take for granted what we can see from our front door. We’ve visited Idaho landmarks; we’ve taken our nephews to the top of Timpanogos; we’ve escorted friends and family all over the DC area and we definitely have more China-seeing in our future.

But, this draw to do and see wherever we end up also creates an odd convergence of tourism and residency. Chengdu is home. We live here now. And will live her for the next two years. While I want to be a part of the events and culture of the city, while I want to see the pandas and temples and parks scattered throughout the city, I also want to settle in and be able to relax on weekends. In America, we had the occasional weekend where we had nothing planned and didn’t really leave the house much. Saturdays held the potential to be filled with nothing more than reading and writing and eating and napping.

Since we’ve been in China (a little over twelve weeks now!), I have often felt a twinge of guilt if we weren’t out doing and seeing every day we had off. Those quirky little pandas are not going to take pictures of themselves and the Wide and Narrow Alley is not going to provide an array of snack foods if no visitors come. Luckily, with the arrival of our UAB, which means a bit more of our American life has touched down in Chengdu, I have been able to settle in a bit better. I am fighting the urge to always feel like we are missing out on something if we take a day off from being tourists and just be residents.

Even with our possessions slowly trickling through customs and to us in western China, have no fear.  We have not become hermits! (Although, sometimes a life of hermitage does have an appealing ring to it. If I had an unlimited supply of books and cold cereal, I might just be able to do it.)  Knowing that we have just two years here, we definitely have things we want to see and be a part of, as well as favorite haunts to revisit when we’ve got a free night.

Saturday night was just one of those nights. I had been out all morning on a CLO excursion for twelve of our community members to learn about jade and do a bit of shopping, but after resting through the hottest part of the day, (Latin American countries may have siesta time, but we’ve got xiuxi time!) Thad and I wanted to get out and enjoy a warm summer evening before they are gone for the year.

We decided that with night falling, JinLi Ancient Street was the place to be! This was by no means our first trip there, having been once before already this time around in China, but several times before when we were here with Peace Corps. It is a great area filled with touristy shops meant to seem “ancient”, lots of food stalls with spicy Sichuan snacks (including some tentacle-bearing,  water-dwelling creature skewered on a stick) and glowing red lanterns hung overhead to create a festive feel.  Plus, if we ever get bored of walking the aisles of shops, we can always find a bench to rest on and enjoy the copious stares and eavesdrop on the discussions about how tall we are.

This Saturday we were also lucky enough to witness a woman in a fully bedazzled sweat suit having a little photo-shoot near one of the ponds in the complex. Her daughter, who had to be maybe nine or ten, clicked photo after photo of her mother using an iPhone, while the mom varied her poses from leaning on the right-hand arm of the café table’s chair to a brilliantly choreographed lean on the left-hand arm of the chair. I am not entirely sure what was going on, but the whole thing reeked of setting up an online dating profile! Who wouldn’t pick out the middle aged-woman in the totally glamorous glittery gray sweatshirt and sweatpants?!

When we first got back to China, I felt like tourism and residency were on opposite ends of a very long spectrum, but the longer we spend in Chengdu (and the more I contemplate our future placements), the more I come to realize that they should not be considered polar opposites. Just like we loved visiting the areas of interest in our various Stateside homes, we can visit the ones here and still have days where we hole up and never leave the house, maybe never even changing out of our PJs. (To be fair, Thad tends to shower and change right away in the morning, even on days we don’t have anything on our schedule. I, on the other hand, am happy to putter around the house clad in my hot-pink, owl-covered pajama pants and over-sized Baltimore Ravens t-shirt until I absolutely must make myself presentable to the outside world.) Tourism and residency don’t have to be, nor should they be, mutually exclusive. I can still get that long-coveted chance to hold a panda one day (for a mere 1300RMB) and flop down on my couch for a day of reading/dozing on the couch the next.

So, here is looking forward to a Saturday of touring LuoDai’s ancient town followed by a Sunday of pajama-pants and a newly downloaded book!

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A Bundle of Joy (X3)!

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Almost two weeks ago, our UAB arrived in Chengdu. For those of my loyal readers not familiar with this State Department acronym, it stands for “unaccompanied air baggage.” (The Department has an alphabet and a half of acronyms. Everything from my job as CLO, community liaison officer in long-hand,   to ELO, one of Thad’s many designations, being an “entry level officer” to VAT, which is the “value added tax” that diplomats often get back from their host countries. It’s a veritable menagerie of capital letters!)  This UAB shipment contains most of the daily-life “stuff” we had while living a stone’s throw away from the Pentagon, including clothes, shoes, accessories and Thad’s ever-so-important PlayStation 3.

I was excited to hear that this set of boxes had finally made their way around the world, been approved for entry into China once Thad had his diplomatic ID card from the government and was headed to my doorstep, and more thrilled that I was not the one responsible for getting them to my twenty-fourth floor doorstep!

Two Fridays ago, a pair laborers from the consulate rang my doorbell at 10AM with a delivery that rivaled anything Santa might bring down the chimney. These two men hauled three large crates into my apartment, nicely dragging them a bit further in to the front spare bedroom so I at least had a walkway through my dining room.

Since it was a workday, I had asked my boss if I could stay home to receive the shipments and then come in post-delivery. (Wow! That last part sounds a little too maternity ward for me!) She said yes without batting an eye, as she is awesome like that! But, that meant that after the three crates made their way in to my home, I had to walk out the door without even cracking them open to take a peek. I had arranged with the consulate workers to ride back to work with them, so as soon as the boxes were shoved in the spare room, we headed out the door and to work, leaving me to ponder their contents and clock-watch all afternoon! (It is amazing how in just nine weeks you can totally forget what was packed where! What that means for the impending arrival of our HHE- household effects- being the things we packed out in Idaho well over a year ago, I can only speculate.)

When the minute hand hit the “12,” designating the arrival of 4PM, I quickly shut down my computer, grabbed my purse and hopped on my furious-fuchsia scooter, honking at any poor sap who happened to block my path on First Ring Road.

I had boxes to open!

As it turns out, the boxes were filled with what I would consider essentials. After nine weeks of wearing the same four dresses to work, I finally had options! (Four dresses in a five day work week means they go on a set rotation schedule. Monday’s dress also becomes Friday’s dress, but with a different necklace to hopefully hide the fact that it is in fact, Monday’s dress. Tuesday’s dress then becomes next Monday’s dress and the process starts all over again.)  Plus, the crates were the bearers of extra shoes and more necklaces (and decorative scarves for winter) and enough tank-tops to last me until, well, until next spring when they go on sale at Old Navy again.

I was also excited to see my Scentsy wax warmer and new scents I got while home in Idaho in the spring. (Thanks Candace!) Anything to make Chengdu seem a bit more home-y is high on my list. (Note: that is home-y, not homie, as in the gangsta’ crew and high as in top-ranking, not high as in “I took bath salts and tried to eat someone’s face.” That would make for a totally different blog post.)

Thad was less thrilled with the clothing options afforded by the shipment (this could be because I am pretty sure he packed every pair of socks he owned in our luggage to go on the airplane) and more excited that his beloved PS3 arrived, giving him (and by extension, me) a good excuse to hide indoors from the recent spate of hot/humid weather.  The sad (okay, not sad for me, amusing for me, but sad for him) part of this unpacking adventure was that the day I accepted delivery of our shipment, the power in our complex was scheduled to be off for eight hours.

Now, a PlayStation with no power is no fun, but the eight-hour window would have been over by late afternoon, before he would be home from work anyway. But no. Eight hours without power turned into a thirty-four hour slog sans electricity. (Think hot and humid with no air conditioning, no fans, no good way to get a cross-breeze through the house and a freezer full of precious cheese slowing turning to the Dark Side.) Eventually, as in a day and a half later, power was restored and the video-game playing machine was hooked up and ready to roll!

So now, we are one and one with our shipments. One has arrived, safely and soundly, while the other one still floats somewhere mid-Pacific. While it is exciting to contemplate the arrival of the second, meaning we will have all of our stuff again for the first time in nearly a year and a half, it is a bit intimidating, as I really have no idea what is coming from the house in Idaho! It will be like the grab-bag you can purchase at the school carnival. If you want even one or two things in the paper sack, it is considered a good buy. Even though I may not still want everything coming in that shipment (read: clothes I have not seen/worn in well over a year that are probably horribly out of style or so smashed and wrinkled they would make a shar pei look smooth), I know that at least my kitchen stuff, oodles of lotion/body spray and Christmas tree will find a good home in Chengdu!

Here’s to one newly arrived bundle of joy and fingers crossed that its sibling makes an arrival soon and without complications. Someone bust out the cigars and pass them around!

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Radioactive Bananas

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As Thad continues, on a daily basis, to unravel the intricacies of Mandarin Chinese, occasionally making his teachers cringe with pronouncements such as “The puppy must depend on the bitch,” I have also occasionally ventured into the buildings that comprise FSI (the Foreign Service Institute). I can’t speak for generations of spouses before me, but one thing that the Foreign Service is really doing well now is making sure that the accompanying family members of the officers are well-educated.  They have an entire department set up for this purpose alone.  Through these offices, I have been able to sign-up for and attend an array of classes, including ones on what life is “really” like in the Foreign Service and one all about the details of the various allowances the government has set aside for diplomatic officers, but doesn’t necessarily hand out unless they are requested.  Good information to have in my back pocket.

My time of casually attending these classes is quickly drawing to a close though, as the last day of October is not only my least favorite holiday in the whole world, but also the start to my scheduled Chinese classes. (Seriously- I preferred getting smacked with a cow stomach blown up like a balloon during Carnival when I lived in the Dominican Republic to the abundance of costumed teenagers standing at my door looking for a candy handout and the ubiquitous “sexy” anything and everything. For women the country-over, this seems to be a holiday designed to let out any latent street-walker leanings.  As a side note- little trick-or-treaters are fabulous and cute!)

A couple of weeks and a huge list of possible classes to attend don’t mesh well, so I quickly signed up for the ones that I could squeeze into my remaining time.  Information gleaned off of building-mates in the elevator and other spouses lead me to believe that the one “must-have” class was the Security Overseas Seminar.  It is designed to be a two day course covering basic security concerns for posts worldwide.  It sounded important.  It sounded practical.  It sounded interesting.  I signed up.

It was all of those things and more.  It was terrifying.  It was paranoia-creating. It should be renamed “101 Ways to Die in the Foreign Service,” although I am not sure this would draw the same clientele that the current, mundane “Security Overseas Seminar” does.  (The course is required for all diplomats, so Thad does get the pleasure of attendance at some point this winter.)

Rather than going into great detail about all of the sessions and the possibilities for harm that await us abroad, I have compiled a short list of things I learned over my two days of attendance.

***In case of situation where decontamination is necessary, my clothes will be cut off of me by trained staff. I will then be soaped down in an effort to get all contamination off my body.  Contamination tends to cling to hair.  I will be given a sponge and told to take care of these areas myself.  If I do not do a sufficient job, I will be given a second chance.  If again this cleaning is not adequate, the staff will instruct me to take a wide stance and look at the sky (apparently this minimizes embarrassment) while they do the job for me. This is good to know.  I will make sure my first two attempts are quite thorough!

***Radiation is a daily part of life. Our TVs and microwaves give off radiation. We all travel and get doses of radiation from the airport.  People should not freak out each time FOX News goes on a 24-hour news cycle binge about cellphone radiation.  Even bananas contain radiation.  How many bananas would I need to eat to be harmed by it?  ALL of them!

***In case of an evacuation, I should always have a “Go-Bag” ready. This should be packed with basic items such as a change of clothes, some non-perishable snack items, and copies of important documents, as well as some American cash. We did not have one of these in Peace Corps and when we were told we were being evacuated post-earthquake, we had just a few minutes to grab what we would need for an indefinite stay away from our post. In that time of uncertainty, I grabbed my all-important stuffed monster, Zugly, that I have had since I was in about the second grade and somehow my Cleveland  Browns shirt, a lovely “gift” from friends at home,  made it into the backpack as well. (For those of you not aware, I HATE the Cleveland Browns.  The reasons why are long and a little complicated, but to sum it up, I can’t handle the fact that a team named the Browns uses orange as their main color and that they have a set of outfits that make them look just like a bunch of Tootsie Rolls when they don them.) If I remember correctly, Thad’s backpack carried the laptop, but also a crucial addition of Doritos that we had recently acquired from outside of town.  A pre-planned Go-Bag is probably a good thing for the Ross family!

***Many posts are extremely cold. I may not jerry-rig a brick with a heating element to create my own personal foot-warmer.  Apparently, the heat from this will be enjoyed by the fire inspection staff from Washington DC and once they are properly warmed, they will unplug it and take it away from me. (Yes, it happened.  Yes, the instructor had the brick with him.)

***When I move into my new home, if it is an apartment building, I should often take the stairs. This is not only good for my health. Knowing who lives (yes, you read that correctly!) in my stairwell and making acquaintances with these people can be to my advantage.  Good to know!

Is this an exhaustive list of what I learned at SOS this last week?  Nope, but it does give a taste of what the class is like. I now know where the best places to be in case of a possible bomb are (it naturally boils down to “as far away as possible”) and how to circumvent questions that seem to be a bit too inquisitive about embassy life (“Why did you ask me that?” apparently shuts things down pretty quickly).

With that under my belt, I’ve got just a bit of time off and then I’ll be joining Thad in his attempt to curtail the inadvertent swearing in Mandarin!

 

 

What is Black and Blue and Belongs in My Sock Drawer?

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Blue and black.  The most obvious Jeopardy reply would be, “What are the colors of the many random bruises on Michelle’s pasty skin?”  In nearly all cases, this would win you full points and hopefully put you in a comfortable lead going in to Final Jeopardy.  But, with any luck you did not take this chance to go with a true Daily Double, because your digital score bar would be reading all zeros.  Today’s correct reply is, “What colors of passports do Thad and Michelle possess?”

With a Wednesday afternoon off from Chinese studies, Thad decided it was time to shuttle on down to Main State and turn in our requests for our diplomatic passports. While there are several steps to this process, they seemed fairly straight-forward; we had the required documents in my super cute purple and pink paisley Vera Bradley knock-off bag and Thad and his classmate, Ian, who was going with us, were properly suited up for a visit to Main State. Time to roll. (Okay, less rolling and more waiting patiently for the next shuttle to leave FSI, take a tour through the Rosslyn area and finally arrive downtown DC.  Either way, we were on the move.)

Once arriving at the Department of State building, Thad and Ian walked hassle-free in the front door.  I, on the other hand, as a mere spouse, had to go through an odd little addition onto the building, show my Virginia Drivers’ license–for those of you not paying attention, I am now an official VA driver, as it my ticket to motorcycling madness– have my bag scanned and go through the X-ray machine.  (Side note: Since I’ve been in DC, I have gone through the X-ray scanner more times than I had, in total, up to this point of my life. I have to go through it each time I go to FSI, each time we go to Main State, plus on my several trips to the airport this summer. I am beginning to think that this may not be so good for the ol’ cells!)

Once I made it past the extremely friendly guards (no sarcasm there at all- seriously- they were quite congratulatory on my being there to get my diplomatic passport, as if I had actually contributed anything to this endeavor!) , Thad and Ian were waiting patiently inside the building.  Our first stop was to get passport photos taken.  I guess I expected this step to take a bit of time, but we walked in and were whisked to the photo room before we had even finished signing in on the all-recording clipboard. With no time to primp or prepare, onto the stool I went with slightly crooked necklace and a bit of crazy- humidity hair, but at least I remembered at the last second to convert my current four-eye status back into just two!  (LASIK countdown is at four weeks, so it is glasses for me for the next month. If I was hesitant about the procedure before, I am totally on board now, just so I can stop wearing these awful spectacles!)

Not five minutes later, Thad, Ian and I were handed envelopes with four passport-sized photographs in them and it was off to stop number two.  The halls of Main State would make the Minotaur weep.  Labyrinth is an understatement.  After being escorted in the right direction by a friendly fellow headed our way, we walked confidently into the office that said friendly fellow pointed out.  Only problem?  Our friendly fellow was off a few doors.  Our second entrance, while filled with a bit more humility, was into the correct department.  To the passport window we sallied, ready to turn our photos into travel documents.  At the window, we were greeted by a no-nonsense woman, who I am sure has her hands full with the daily parade of first-tour junior diplomatic officers, many who while thinking they have life figured out, are often just confused kids beneath their puffed up egos.

This dear woman promptly asked us for our passport applications.  After glancing at one another, a quick and quiet conference, we blushingly replied that we didn’t have applications.  With what can only be described as a sigh of resignation, our helper woman responded with, “Wait.  I’ll come out there.”  I guess we were her problem children for the day.

Out from behind her window she came, directing us to a wall covered in an array of official looking documents. After grilling us with a series of questions about our current passports and their statuses, we were each handed the correct application (being told that if we hadn’t answered her questions correctly, she would have to start all over with us) we were sent to a table to fill them out.

The application itself was just a routine set of questions about name, address, personal passports, etc.  It didn’t take long until we were back in front of that window, feeling a bit like middle schoolers waiting to be allowed to go to lunch. Thad and I were up first.  We handed her our applications, passports, photos and his travel orders.  She promptly looked at his orders and told him he needed copies of a different set, which we happened to have in the ever-prepared bag of cuteness.  As he scurried off to make copies to give her, Ian boldly stepped up to the window.

Glancing over Ian’s paperwork, the woman behind the glass gave a single nod, which we interpreted to mean he followed directions precisely.  The smart thing, at this point, would have been for Ian to smile, thank her and walk away, meeting Thad and I in the lobby shortly.  But, no . Ian, more than politely, asked her if she would notify him when his passport was ready to be picked up.  With a snort/chortle, she quickly questioned him as to whether he thought she looked like she had time to call him and a hundred of his friends each day to let them know their passports were complete. Then, under her breath, she continued with a mini-tirade about how even if she did, they wouldn’t come any way. Ian, ever-smiling, agreed that she probably didn’t have time to do that and he would just swing by the office and check in a few weeks.

It was at this moment that Thad arrived back with our copies.  In no time our documents were accepted and before I could warn Thad about asking, he presented the same query- when would we be notified to pick up our passports?  Oh no!  With a giggle, I turned and quickly headed for the reception area of the department.  I was not going to be there for the answer.  (Luckily, he got a quick response, shorter than Ian’s and we were out of there.)

The best part about this whole process was that woman.  She was as polite and helpful as is possible, but I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who can couple that with such a no-nonsense attitude.  I really wanted to suggest to this woman that she become a middle school teacher!  She would be amazing at keeping sixth graders from randomly wandering the classroom, seventh graders from passing notes filled with gossip and heart-dotted I’s and eighth graders focused on Poe and Dickens rather than upcoming dances and football games.

Our day at State ended with a jaunt down to the cafeteria, where I managed NOT to make an ungodly racket returning my lunch tray to the upright bin.  (My last visit was not so successful in that department,  but that story is for another time!) Soon, blue and black passports will be resting neatly in my sock drawer, waiting for April and the next adventure to begin.

The “Real” Flag Day Wasn’t June 14

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When the Ross family Foreign Service adventure started two years ago, I think we both looked it as a long shot.  Thad’s first test was taken on a bit of a whim.  He took it the day before we flew out of Idaho for a six week trip through our old stomping grounds in Gansu, China and then on to a variety of beautiful stops throughout Southeast Asia.  A couple of years and many tests later, we found ourselves facing the biggest event yet: Flag Day!

The build-up to Flag Day actually begins just a few days into class when the new hires are given the bid list.  This list lays out the positions available to the members of the class upon the completion of their training.  There are 94 people in Thad’s class and the initial bid list had 94 positions.  (The list had a few additions and subtractions, but basically, it includes one post for each person.)  Prior to receiving the bid list, I thought I had a pretty decent grasp of world geography, but once it was in-hand, I realized I may have let my 8th grade geography teacher, Mr. Shake, as well as my #1 teaching buddy Jim,  down a bit.  GoogleMaps and I spent a bit of quality time together that first evening!

Flag Day is a tradition for members of each A-100 class. We, along with nearly every other member of the class, spent about two weeks pouring over bid lists, talking endlessly about the pros and cons of each possible position and trying to come up with a strategy that fit both Thad’s career needs and our personal preferences. Bid lists became just about the ONLY topic of conversation when any two or more FSOs or EFMs (that’s State Department jargon for spouses) were within communicating distance!

As a part of this preparation process, I logged numerous hours in the Overseas Briefing Center- a library of resources that gives an endless array of information about each Foreign Service posting around the world.  For every posting, there is a box of information that includes official data from the embassy/consulate, which is nice to read, but the more useful folder of information is the one labeled “Personal Post Insights.”  These are a collection of surveys from officers and their spouses from each of the postings.  While the official information was great and full of statistics and pertinent facts, the PPI’s had what I was looking for- a realistic view of day to day life!  I quickly realized that each one had to be taken with a grain of salt, as the surveys are extremely subjective.  While I loved my time in Peace Corps, I know that if I had been asked to fill in a similar report on a particularly bad day, the results may have been less than positive, even though my overall experience was wonderful.  This was crucial to remember, as I read that in one not-to-be-named post as the responder said that s/he “…would rather stick my hand in a blender than spend another month in this country!”  (Knowing the country, I think it is rather fabulous that a blender was an available option!  Count your blessings buddy!)

Another part of this bid list process includes a meeting with the FSO’s CDO.  There are a handful of CDOs, each one assigned to a group of class members.  The CDO’s job is to get to know the skill-set/desires of their hires and then place them in the positions that are best for both the department and the employee.  Spouses are strongly encouraged to attend the CDO meeting, so off we went to Foggy Bottom to make our wants known.  This is where the process gets a bit crazy/confusing.  In the meeting, the employee is asked about their preferences in everything from language training to focus regions in the world to needs dealing with children and pets.  The whole idea is to let preferences be known, but at the end the CDO bluntly reminded us that Thad needed to be “worldwide available.”  We, of course, were well aware of this and really were open to nearly any placement, but when asked what we liked, we gave our opinions. I walked out of that meeting a little worried that Thad’s CDO thought we were too picky and set in our desire to be in Asia.  I was really concerned that we didn’t make a good impression and that that may impact his placement.  With nothing to do but fret and worry, we headed home to wait out the few weeks until the announcements were to be made.

Finally, Flag Day arrived!  This really was a day we had been talking about for years, so it was great to finally have it upon us.  Josh and Jeremy, two of Thad’s high school friends, were able to fly in for the ceremony and we were lucky enough to catch a ride to FSI with the wife of one of Thad’s classmates.  We met John, a close friend from PC China there, and anxiously waited to hear the Ross family’s fate.

The Flag Day ceremony is fairly informal with lots of young children in attendance and a rather festive atmosphere.  I came prepared with labeled print-offs that included each possible country’s flag and the post assignment city, as well as our finalized bid-list with our rankings so that I could check off each one as it was called.    After handing out the spare copies and a handful of pens/highlighters to our group, it was time to get started.  Just a few posts in, my personal number one choice (Kathmandu, Nepal) was called and given out, but I wasn’t too upset, as it was a long shot option for us.  It wasn’t very many placements after that though that we learned our fate.  The flag of China popped up on the giant screen at the front of the room and the announcer called out “China, Chengdu.”  This was Thad’s number one choice and right at the top of my list too.  After a seemingly endless pause I heard, “Thad Ross.”  I couldn’t believe it!!  I think a small yelp went out from our row and Thad was beaming as he picked up his flag and folder of information and nearly skipped back to his seat!  We couldn’t believe it!  My worry about the CDO meeting was meritless; apparently we made a better impression than I thought!

Thad’s assignment was called within the first third of the flags, so then it was a matter of waiting while the rest of his class got their postings.  I quickly gave up on marking my sheets and spent the rest of the ceremony texting family and friends back in Idaho with the great news!  It was tough not being able to sit with him, as we both wanted to talk about what had just happened and start planning for this next big adventure!

Chengdu, China will be our new home starting in April 2012.  Between now and then, Thad will be in a series of classes that include both language and consular training.  I will spend a lot of time preparing for the move and enjoying the DC area before that time rolls around.  We couldn’t be happier with the results of Flag Day and are thrilled to undertake this new journey together.

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Our FS Timeline

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Filed under Travel Musings
June 2009– Thad takes the FSOT(Foreign Service Officers Test.)  This is the day before we embark on a trip to visit our former Peace Corps home in Gansu,China, as well as a vacation through Malaysia, Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos.  As you can guess, there was a LOT of email checking as the results date came nearer and nearer.

July 2009–  While on vacation in Laos Thad gets confirmation that he passed the FSOT!

September 2009– Thad submits his QEP (personal narratives) to the State Department.
October 2009– Thad gets an invitation to an Oral Assessment in Washington DC.
February 2010– Thad flies to Washington DC for his Oral Assessment.  I spend the afternoon on pins and needles waiting for results!  HE PASSES!!
Spring-Summer  2010– Clearance check (for Thad) and medical checks (both of us) are passed.
August 2010– THAD IS ON THE REGISTER!!

Winter 2011– Thad passes his Critical Needs Language test (Mandarin) and gains extra points for his placement on the register.  He jumps to the top 20!

Spring 2011– The Federal Government comes to a standstill on budget issues. All future A-100 classes are put on hold.

April 2011- A budget is passed and the May A-100 class is reinstated!  Thad gets an email offering him a spot in the class that starts in a mere month.

May 2011– Thad begins his first day as an officer in the United States Foreign Service