It’s a little like kindergarten

We have reminders similar to this at all our food spots.
It's a lot like kindergarten.

Anyone who has more than one child knows that if one gets sick, the other gets sick, and then the parents get sick and then it cycles all over again.  God bless school teachers. I have no idea how they’re not sick every single day of their lives. Little kids are germ spreaders.

The best thing to do, of course, is to continually wash your hands. Forget those sanitizers. Studies show that hand-washing is the best thing to do to prevent the spread of germs. With all those kids sharing space, it’s the proven way of halting germs.

This place doesn’t have any kids, but we’re teeming with humanity. Many times, it’s hot and sweaty humanity, but even on the best air-conditioned days, it’s still a bunch of people sharing spaces. So when one person gets some kind virus, like a cold, it has the potential to shoot like wildfire to the rest of us. For the most part, we all congregate in the food spaces, especially. There’s more than one of them, but most people, at least twice a day, are going to congregate in our feeding halls.

To combat fast-spreading colds (or worse), we’ve got to wash our hands. One way to make sure we all do this is to not let us eat until we do. I’m not sure if this would work with kindergartners, but boy, it seems to work for hungry adults.

Prior to every meal, whether we eat in or take out, we have to do two things. One is swipe our food cards, and that’s just because the government counts everything. We’re not billed personally for our food, but somewhere at pay grades higher than mine, someone has to calculate who ate what. My guess is somewhere someone sets an average price for a meal and that our little cards tell some system what my hiring mechanism is, like if I am a contractor, direct hire or what. The bill, I suppose, goes from there. I really don’t know; I just know that I have to tap my card before I can grab a tray and go through the line.

Similar to a photo on the rotating announcements screen.
It says something like, "This person forgot to wash her hands.
"Don't be this person!"

But before that, I have to wash my hands. It’s just kind of silly to me, because, in general, the last thing I did before heading to the food room was go to the bathroom and wash my hands. (Tip I heard this week: always pee before you leave a building, because you never know what will happen before you arrive at your destination.) But once I get to the food place, whichever one it is, I have to wash them again.

And they make it obvious and easy. There are signs everywhere to wash your hands, reminding us of the evil diseases that can spread. And there are sinks. Many stations of sinks, like maybe a dozen. These bewildered me at first, because there’s no handle and I thought that meant they were motion-detected.  The first meal, I waved my hands under one after another, trying to turn one on. Finally someone bailed me out; there’s a foot pedal. You pump it, add soap, wash and dry. And you can’t eat until you do so.

Honestly, I have no idea how the person at the card-tap place can possibly check everyone, because he or she is always busy assisting with the take-out containers, but apparently they have been known to catch people trying to sneak in with dirty hands.

There are several TVs going in the main food hall, and one of them runs slides of announcements. There’s once slide with a photo of a woman with her eyes censored out so you can’t identify her. I haven’t sat close enough to that TV to read the fine print, but from what I understand it says something about her not washing her hands. We’re into shame, I guess. But hey, if you didn’t learn it in kindergarten, there’s just little hope for you now and maybe shame is the best way to go.

Simba is lion

My world shrunk. It’s now the size of a tiny college campus and I live in a dorm. Well, I guess most dorms don’t have kitchens and mine does, so maybe it’s an apartment. Although there's nothing in the kitchen except a Twix bar, a tea bag and a packet of microwave popcorn I took from the Marriott in Rosslyn. That's pretty dorm-y.

Whatever the little place is, it’s home until May 2020, inchallah. After a three-day journey that encompassed three planes and a helicopter, I arrived in Baghdad on Thursday. It was a little worrisome getting out, because Florence was still hanging around the DC-NY path, which was my first leg. The flight left about an hour late and I had a tight connection but wound up leaving for Amman from a fairly close gate and even had enough time to grab another bottle of tea before hopping on the 10.5-hour flight.

Since, more or less (mostly less), the flight from Amman-Baghdad was a charter (VERY “less;” this is a pretty generous description but I’m not sure how else to classify it) that leaves in the morning, the itinerary calls for coming in the day before and staying at a hotel (hi, Marriott!) and then turning around the next morning for the last airplane flight and short helicopter ride.

A word about the Marriott: Oh, man. There is a world of difference between a regular Marriott breakfast and a Marriott Residence breakfast. There was so much to choose from! Not a lot of time, since it opened at 6:30 and my ride left at 7, but still. It was fabulous.

The evening before, I was so tired from the overnight flight from JFK that I didn’t bother trying to go out and scrounge food. I ate right at the sports bar in the hotel, Champions. They had several games going on, but I don’t follow “futbol.” I chose a seat in the decidedly American display section, sitting under autographed pictures of Nolan Ryan and Wayne Gretzky, even as the music played “Daydream Believer” by the Monkees. My stay in Amman was short, surreal and sleepless. Totally jet-lagged, I crashed heavily at 9 p.m. but woke up three times between then and midnight and couldn’t get to sleep at all after that.

So, by 1 p.m. the following day, I was nearing zombie-like status but tried to keep up with my sponsor, who showed me around the place.

The post here has been described to me as “a cruise ship that never docks,” a high school or college campus, Communist Russia and a minimum-security prison. I think those last two are because there’s a lot of security, a lot of cameras and we have to wear our ID tags everywhere.

But this place is fantastic. My apartment is laid out nicely, has two TVs with American channels and water I can drink straight out of the faucet. I’m also conveniently located across from the building that houses the smaller (and less intimidating) gym, the pool, post office, little shops and the place that’s called Baghdaddy’s, which is a cross between a bar and a multi-purpose room.

This place is not all Americans and Iraqis. There are contractors here, and they are from, quite literally, all over. Some are TDYers from other embassies and will be here for 3 months to a year or so, and some have resigned from their embassy jobs to take spots here as contractors and have been here for years.

There is food everywhere. This is where the “cruise ship” part comes in. Each meal is served for a number of hours every day, but if you miss that or just want something small, there’s another place to go to grab that, too. And it’s good food. The first night, I had Jamaican chicken and couscous. I split a cinnamon roll with someone this morning and it was fabulous. I also had pancakes, grits and bacon. I had soup and collards last night, mostly because I was stuffed from the spinach, chicken and mashed potatoes I’d had for lunch.

Fortunately, there are two gyms. I missed spin class today because I was either in the wrong gym or the wrong room, but I got back on the elliptical for the first time since leaving Istanbul. So today I hurt, but I earned the half a cinnamon roll.

Since the weekend here is Friday-Saturday (meaning I haven’t gone to work yet), Today (Saturday) is our Sunday. As a result, I had the opportunity to go to church, which is held in Baghdaddy’s. There is a Protestant service and a Catholic service, plus several others for other religions.

I’d gone to a Bible study my first night here (too jet-lagged to remember much) and was expecting a similar crowd, like maybe 10 people or so. Instead, there was a room full of people from all around. It was pretty cool. It was a real church service and not a substitute, which made me happy. We weren’t allowed to go to church in Istanbul.

After three or four contemporary hymns and an intro, a group of black singers came up and sang an African gospel song, in some African language. They had the translation up on the screen and it was the same phrases over and over with different African countries listed. Think “God bless Uganda!” “God bless Botswana!”, etc.

The them was something about a lion, and today I learned that “simba” is “lion” in whatever language it was. While I saw “The Lion King,” I didn’t know the translation was literal.

It looks like I have the potential to learn a lot on this tour, and I’m not counting work. The possibilities here are mind-boggling. So far, I’ve been to Bible study and attempted a spin class (I’ll find it soon). There is a knitting group (Baghdarners, I think it’s called) that I’ve already asked about and today at lunch I sat with some folks who were doing salsa. One was the instructor (an Air Force guy) and one a student. She was an Iraqi-born Michigander who’s back in the country for two years as a contractor doing something in addition to learning salsa, but that’s what we talked about.

They were so enthused about it that I somehow got looped into it. This is definitely going to be a unique tour.

A little loopy

It’s my last week in Washington and I’m officially down to the wire to get stuff done. I have a little list next to me that’s got more crossed off than left on, but it’s still substantial. Monday is going to be a big day.

As bad luck would have it, I discovered on Friday evening that there is a Chick-Fil-A in Foggy Bottom. This is on me; I have no idea why I didn’t think to search earlier. I’ve spent a lot of time in the area, but I tend to walk right out of the metro, and Chick is on the left. And Thursday evening, the evening before I had the brilliant revelation to search for a place, I was right in Foggy Bottom, leaving a get-together famished. I could have used a six-pack of nuggets, but I didn’t know.

Today I thought about going, but after a visit to the Library of Congress with some friends, we hit up the food trucks for lunch and that was just too much good. I mean, not enough food to forfeit swinging by Georgetown and stopping for cupcakes at Baked and Wired, but too much to think about another meal. There’s always room for cupcakes.

Since going to Chick is out of the question tomorrow, I’m planning on going both Monday after lunch (don’t judge: I’ve got two more appointments after lunch and will grab soup to take home) and probably Tuesday as my last meal.

It’s been a big week. Beyond fighting a cold and sitting through a class with talking head after talking head and the air conditioner set for what felt like like 52 degrees, I met some new folks and, most importantly for next week, got my passport back. My visa arrived last Thursday and I’m good to go; I even had time to run by the Global Entry place and get it registered, which was as big “cross off” on my calendar. No point in paying for the program if you can’t register the passport you travel on, right?

Fortunately, Florence has stayed away from D.C. and it looks like I’ll still be good to go on Tuesday.  Unfortunately, it looks like I might be flying into the path of residual rain. We’ll see how it goes. This past week I met several people headed to post who were leaving earlier and were a bit panicked. It’s kind of exciting that it’s all coming together.

I’ll be there until May 2020, inchallah. I hope all goes well. I’m not concerned about the situation in Baghdad; I’m concerned about me adjusting to a job and not being able to get away on a short trip every month. Instead, I’ll have long trips every four months or so. For me, that’s something to get used to.

It’s also a long time on the road at one shot, although not as long as I’ve been in DC this go-around. God bless Marriott, but I’ve hit my limit for hotel nights in a row. I’m in my third hotel room since August 12 and really tired of the same breakfast every day.

It’s not that it’s bad and I to vary it up, but you can only vary scrambled eggs or pancakes so much. This morning, instead of toast, I had an English muffin and tomorrow, if their Sunday menu holds, I’ll opt for a biscuit and gravy.

They also have the standard cereal option, although they don’t have what I find in most hotels, which is corn flakes. I’m not capitalizing that because I’m fairly confident that although Marriott appears to go with Kellogg’s, I seriously doubt some of the other places I’ve stayed in spring for the name brand.

They have some healthy option, Rice Krispies and Froot Loops. I don’t do healthy and Rice Krispies without marshmallows and butter taste kind of like sugary (because I add sugar) air, but crunchy. Which isn’t bad, but I decided to have a bowl of Froot Loops my first day here. I haven’t eaten Froot Loops since they added green, purple and blue and figured what the heck. (Looked this up: 1990s.) I wanted a little something sweet after the (likely from a powder) scrambled eggs, toast and sausage. I took a small bowl and crunched away, because milk in cereal is just gross. Use a glass, people.

And now I am a loopy addict. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve now eaten Froot Loops daily at as a little dessert after breakfast. You’re only as old as you feel. I don’t even bother with a spoon.

Summer camp and back-to-school shopping

In a word, yesterday was expensive.

Back from my summer camp week – more on that later – I met a friend at the Tyson’s Corner mall, which is a huge, fancy schmancy mall that’s (thankfully) on the metro line. The trip itself took about half an hour and cost $3.40, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to what I’d eventually spend.

Heading out, I swear I really did need a bra, and like LL Bean’s Perfect Fit Pants to much (I wear a different color each day at work) that I wanted to get a pair of the capris. But that was all I planned on, and, honestly, the bra was an iffy purchase. I still can’t get my arm around my back so I wanted a front-closure one but they’re such a pain to buy.

The plan had been to meet up with a friend around 2, and while on the metro, she mentioned Victoria’s Secret had bras on sale. Not having any memory of the layout of the mall, I suggested meeting there around 2:15. The Internet wasn’t playing fair and she didn’t get the message until much later, after I’d located Vicky’s and was ensconced in bra-shopping.

The mall was teaming with people, and I swear 30 percent of them were in the store. It was absolutely packed, perhaps drawn in by the $35 bra sale. I’m pretty claustrophobic and had to control breathing to go in, searching for front-closure bras. Not much to choose from, but once in the “sports” section, I saw one and immediately salesperson asked if I needed help. I explained the situation and she asked what size. I guess I stammered and she offered to measure me. Sure thing.

Well, turns out I’ve been doing it wrong. She said I had D-cups and I almost choked. Really? I just had to laugh. But in the end, holy smokes, it worked. Of course, “in the end” was a full 45 minutes, three changes of close and, no kidding, about eight different salespeople later, I walked out with two bras that, even on sale, are the most expensive things in my wardrobe.

That started a cascade of shopping, which I normally hate, but I’d met up with my friend and it made it tolerable. She found a dress for a wedding -- $20! – and stalked LL Bean like there was no tomorrow. I found the one color Perfect Fit Pants that I didn’t have but had trouble finding the capris. After asking in the shoe section -- $90 boat shoes for $35! – I learned that if they had any, they’d be in the clearance section. I’d hit the clearances but not really the pants since I’m almost set there. I really need shirts.

Anyway, lo and behold, a pair of $40 Perfect Fit Capris lay waiting. They were $15 before the extra 25 percent off. So, somewhere in the $186 that I gave to LL Bean, I got the one pair of pants that I wanted, drastically on sale.

I’m running out of shampoo and I really J.R. Liggett’s but Whole Foods, darn them, don’t sell it anymore. I’ve ordered some but don’t have it yet, so I thought what the heck, I’d buy a bar of Lush’s and see how that worked. Of course it’s staggeringly expensive (and not on sale) and they have a separate conditioner bar. Twenty-eight dollars for four months of shampoo and probably a year of conditioner.  I don’t think that’s good, but I splurged.

Eddie Bauer also had a 50 percent off thing going and I finally got some trail pants that I wanted but don’t really need, plus some socks and a green shirt. I love green but don’t have much.

Couldn’t find a 2019 calendar at either of the dollar-ish stores I went in but found stuff I wanted in each, and, to top everything off, I’m going to two parties this weekend so I went and bought something to bring to each of them. And, mental note: cupcakes really should be kept top side up. They’re no longer pretty.

I haven’t checked with American Express to see the damage that I did, but it was substantial. Now I am going to have to ship a box to myself, I think, because I don’t have room in my bag to take them. And I learned I need a watch battery late in the day so that’ll have to get fixed later.

The splurge came off of a week of “summer camp.” Really, it wasn’t that, but a five-day class. It’s not in DC proper, so large group of people get transported in what are essentially modified school busses, split into groups and given a program for the week. It really smacks of summer camp, but of course it’s a work program. No crayons of kumbaya involved, although I think at one point, karaoke was an unofficial option for one evening. It’s just kind of funny because there’s even a color-coded bracelet and an end-of-camp event, so to speak, on Friday.

And now school begins again. I still have a couple of weeks remaining here before I head off to the real program, and I’m glad to have Labor Day (and football season) here.