Good News

Turns out a sewage pipe broke and that's why church was cancelled. Stewart Tuttle, the spokesman for the embassy here and also a counselor in the branch presidency just described the foul scene to me while I was wasting time talking to Karen about how I'm going slightly out of my mind.

But the good news is that church is on for this Saturday (shabbat is on Saturday here) and will probably be at the Tuttle's house. Which probably means there will be food. And the good news doesn't end there, folks. As luck would have it, Alan (the FSN here who I love--he gives me food and introduced me to his daughter who has become a good friend out here) is out of town this week (and next) and offered his office to me while he is away. This means no more Harold. I never have to be stuck in an office, listening to his tourettes and mindless banter while having to stomach the foul stench from his burps EVER AGAIN. Turns out Harold is a gassy little feller.

That is unless by some cruel twist of fate this blessing is ripped from my fingers just like my cell phone. Oh, the embassy issued me a cell phone shortly after arriving. It was just for incoming calls and emergencies, but just having it was heaven. Being alone and secluded out here, it was my one connection to the friends I do have in country and any semblance of a normal life. Plus, it had a clock on it and as I don't have a watch and have to take buses, it came in very handy. However, just over a week ago, they decided to take the phone away and give it to a paid employee. It was a big bummer. My one consolation is that the people I work with who found out were furious and shook their fists angrily at the administration and ranted on about the injustice of it all. Which I found comforting. So even though I don't have a phone, transportation, or a hot Israeli boyfriend, I have a solid group of people out here in my corner and that made me feel good.

More good news is that I actually adore a bunch of people here. Bernadette is this wonderfully crazy French woman who works upstairs and always comes in to gossip and complain about something rather dramatically. She worked for the ambassador from Congo and just may have wrangled me an invite to a huge African party this weekend with all the African embassies in Israel. For those who know me well, getting an invitation to a massive African party (full of Congolese) is like winning the lottery. I just might be able to die happy now. Needless to say, I'm already polishing the Lingala (the dialect form Congo-Kinshasha) that I know. I am fully prepared to bust out singing "Yesu Ndecko na Bolingo" for anyone that will listen. Oh man, the Congolese love that song. While in France, I met a guy from the Congo at a bus stop and mentioned that I knew some Lingala and then proceeded singing that song. I didn't get two lines into it before he started singing along and clapping. All at the bus stop. It was great. 

Irit is one of the most capable people that work here. She is very tough and very smart. I was a little afraid of her when I got here because she will tell you like it is, even if that sends you into therapy for the next few years. But yesterday, she bought me lunch, listened to my life story, and told me that she thought that I was about as great as it gets, the best intern they've ever had, that I had a really great head on my shoulders, and that I was going places. This was a welcomed surprise/compliment because I go through extended moments of feeling rather pathetic. It felt good coming from someone who I respect a great deal professionally. And there are several other people here who've really saved my life by taking me in and treating me like one of their own. Overall, I'd have to say that even though I'm anxious to see the end of my internship and move on, I really love this embassy and will have warm memories of most of the people.

Harold excluded, of course.