Written in caps

10 things I won't miss about living in DC

This weekend I moved from Adams-Morgan to Bethesda. In no special order, these are the 10 things I will not miss about living in DC.

1. The noise
2. The crack house on my corner
3. The insufferable traffic on the days I'm stupid enough to drive
4. The hipsters
5. Metro, whose motto is "screw you if you don't like our "service:" what are you going to do, take your business to the *other* Metro?"
6. The 45 minute commute in cold, rain, snow, or heat and 1000% humidity.
7. Surprising the guys having sex in public in Meridian Hill Park
8. The almost-daily police, fire, and rescue dramas at the projects across the street
9. Comcast (no option where I lived)
10. The noise (repeated for emphasis)

No phone, overseas assignment version

In my previous post, I told the story of losing my iPhone and how I decided to try life without a phone for a while as part of a larger exercise in being more present and mindful. So, for the past couple of weeks, while in Mozambique, I either didn't have a phone, or the office gave me a super-basic Nokia that could do no more than make and receive voice calls (neither of which I like to do). I guess you could say this was the first phase of my experiment.

And it's been remarkably easy. There have been many times I automatically reached for my phone to fill in the blanks in attention demands: waiting at the airport, waiting for a colleague, riding in a taxi. But when I didn't have the phone I was reaching for, my reaction was more "oh well" than "oh sh*t." Instead of looking at the little screen, I looked out the window, or eavesdropped on conversations, or looked at the ocean, or talked to someone around me. So while not having the phone has clearly changed my daily behavior, I've replaced one manner of passing idle time with another. And I have to say this has led to being more mindful and present in the physical world. And my jury is still out on whether that's better or more worthy than looking at the screen. I think so... but only think so. 

I also realize that the time in Mozabique is a false test. Like someone in iPhone rehab, the real test will be going back to my normal life. What about when I do my once-a-week dinner with friends? Those usually get planned down to the last minute, all final agreements getting made by text message. What about when I'm on my way to a friend's house to play pool, and remember we haven't agreed whose turn it is to buy beer? What about when I'm stuck on the Metro and want to let someone know I won't make the conference call? I have a suspicion about how those things will be handled, and I also have a feeling it will be an improvement, but it remains to be seen. 

On not having a phone

By the time I made it up the one flight of stairs to my hotel room at the Southern Sun in Maputo, I realized I didn't have my iPhone with me. I hustled back down to the restaurant where I'd just finished breakfast and when the greeter said "hello again" I let her know I was just there to retrieve my phone. But it wasn't on the table. There were no guests at any of the five surrounding tables whom I could ask if they'd seen it leave. Of course the wait staff knew nothing about it, and in an instant, the center of my digital life was gone. 

I've had a "smartphone" since there have been smartphones, starting with a Palm Trio 600. After returning from Ethiopia, where there was no cell-phone internet, I bought an iPhone 3G (the second iPhone). Since then I've had an iPhone 3Gs, 4, 4s, and 5. I'm due for an iPhone 6 in October when they come out. My entire life is on my iPhone: all my music (23gb), podcasts, thousands of photos, contacts, calendar, iMessage, four email accounts, 40 or so apps for everything from weather to stocks to Facebook... you get the idea. So, the same hour I knew my iPhone was doubling some waiter's monthly wage, I was researching what to get in the gap until the iPhone 6 comes out. Maybe an old iPhone from ebay? A Windows phone? The interface is compelling... Maybe an iPad mini that will fit in my jacket pocket? I continued to research. 

And in the ensuing four days I noticed my life changing in interesting ways. The iPhone is the perfect thing to have when you have five minutes to kill: look at the weather, look at my stocks, look at email (endlessly), take a selfie for Facebook, play a game, and so forth. But in the last four days I haven't been able to "use" that time. I've had to just breathe and look around and see what's there. I've had to notice the feral cats begging for fish from the kitchen, look at the pink sky above the Zambezi, listen to the unitelligible but lyrical conversation of the group of local women at the next lunch table, and be generally plugged in to my environment. Because I have an ongoing self-improvement project of being more mindful and present, not being able to plug into my digital world has forced me to be more of both.

Now don't get me wrong: this isn't one of those tiresome screeds about how the digital world is destroying humankind by taking us away from the wonders of the physical world surrounding us. I think that the default assumption that the physical world is somehow more worthy than the digital is a load of luddite crap. Telling me that writing an email to my Mom on the Metro is somehow emptier and less worthy than making excruciating and innane small-talk chatter with a stranger is extrovert propaganda at best. 

So I'm thinking of an experiment: not having the cell phone for a while after I get back to the US and see how it helps (or doesn't) with my mindfulness. I might not be able to do so, but for a while I will and I'll write about the effects. 

Left coast, right coast, flyover states, and real America

During the last election cycle, and in 2oo4 as well, there was a lot of talk from S. Palin and her ilk about "real America" and "real Americans." As someone who occupied the east coast at the time I was slightly annoyed that I and my home didn't fit into these categories to some. But considering the source I couldn't work up much indignance. The maligned elitist, over-educated snobs on the east coast just didn't exist in my experience. And while R. Santorum called the president "a snob" for valuing an education, I found my somewhat-over-educated colleagues in DC interesting and thoughtful.

On Labor Day I found myself at a small dinner party full of smart east-coast lifers, most world-travelers in governement service. The conversation inevitably turned to Dr. King's I have a dream speech and what it meant. We all agreed that, while race relations had come far since that day, there was still far to go, and we were somewhat bemused by the stubborn nature of racial politics in the US. Then one diner, whom I know to be intelligent and usally lucid, opined "but there are all those ignorant people in middle America who just aren't even aware of racial issues." Having grown up in a socially liberal (if very financially conservative) household I was gobsmacked. After offering that people in a large city in my Middle-American state (Detroit) might have some awareness of racial issues, I fell silent.

And now, three days later, I still don't know what to think. Had my dinner companion's comment been about race she may have had to resign from her job, if not her social circle. But openly maligning the majority of the population for not living in her liberal bubble passed by with barely a ripple. Surely one class bigot doesn't prove a point (and I still think Princess Dumbass from the north woods is just that), but that certain brand of elitist is not pure fiction and I bear witness to that.   

100 Miles from Syria, and same as it ever was

I'm back in Amman doing some short-term work. It's odd coming back to your former home town as a guest: staying in hotels, no car, no furry companions, no Friday bike rides. You get it. I'm once again 100 miles from the Syrian border. I could get in one of the project cars and be in Syria in two hours. And the odd part is that you can't tell anything is different. There must be a word for the strangeness of the absence of something you're sure should be present. Back in DC (or Kigali, or wherever I happen to be), I follow the Syrian conflict at least as much as the next guy, having lived so near. By any measure, what's going on 100 miles north of me is a disaster of epic proportions. The violence, bloodshed, and wanton destruction are so big and so bad that sometimes I think I can feel it through the screen. And there are 1/2 a million Syrian refugees in Jordan. Half a million where eight months ago there were almost none. Think about that: 500,000 extra people in a country of just over six million. If 2-1/2 million Mexicans suddenly came across the border, wouldn't you be able to tell in El Paso?

But here in Amman everything in my life, and the daily lives of my Amman-based Jordanian colleagues remains the same. I've asked everyone I talk to about the impact on daily life. Most people say "nothing here, only in the north." If pressed people will mention vague complaints about rich Syrians moving here and driving up the cost of living. But that's about it. Of course in the north, on the border towns, things are much worse: shortages of commodities, lack of housing, you name it. And the impact on the government budget is severe. While western nations have pledged hundreds of millions to relieve Jordan of this burden, a small portion of the pledges have actually made it to the bank. 

But I still look around, looking for some impact on my West Amman daily life. And everything seems pretty much the same as it ever was.

10 favorite things about being back in DC (Frenji no more)

After two years and two months in Amman, we're all back living in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of DC. In no particular order, here are the top 10 things that make me happy to be back:

• People like dogs, and dogs are plentiful during Toby's twice-a-day walks at Meridian Hill Park, only two blocks from our house.
• At least 30 restaurants just a 15-minute walk from the house (A-M, Columbia Heights, Dupont Circle, Woodley...)
• Not having to drive (hello Metro my old friend): wide, tree-lined sidewalks and green parks
• Harris Teeter two blocks away
• Getting reacquainted with old friends
• Family a three-hour flight or one-day drive away, NC friends a four-hour drive
• Countless shops and restaurants a pleasant walk from my office in Bethesda
• Brooks Brothers and the third-markdown sale
• Rock Creek Parkway and the vast bike-trail network in DC
• Being able to own and ride a motorbike again

Hello from Greece

As the wheels of our Royal Jordanian Airways jet left the tarmac, we realized it had been nine months since either of us had been on a plane. For a pair who travels a collective 200,000 miles a year, it felt too sedentary, and we we anxious to get away. While the weekend getaway was all too brief, it was more refreshing than we could have imagined.

We touched down in Athens at 3:00 on a Wednesday afternoon. With a quick stop at the Olympic Airways transfer desk to pick up our tickets to Santorini Island, we found a coffee shop and settled in, drank a Heineken, and people-watched European tourists. After a 30-minute flight populated with aging Danes in safari-wear we touched down in Santorini, a volcanic island south-east of Athens. We grabbed a 15-Euro cab to Fira, the capital city that is perched on the rim of the crescent-shaped island. We walked down a meandering narrow lane and found the Nomikos Villas, our home for two nights. Fira and the Villas were everything we expected: lots of white and blue houses, perched on the steep hillside, with a breathtaking view of the Caldera, or volcanic basin which now merges with the sea. We settled into our suite and sipped our welcome glass of wine while watching the sunset. Later we walked five minutes along the lane until we found a recommended restaurant. After dinner, contented by fresh fish (Mari), perfect pasta (me), and a liter of local wine, we made it back to our room before falling into a coma-like sleep.

The Santorini sunrise was as spectacular as the sunset the night before. Three minutes after we called the front desk, our breakfast appeared and we sipped coffee while lounging on our balcony in our hotel robes. The receptionist helped us book a day-tour on a boat around the Caldera. We set out on a bus that took us to our two-masted boat at the main harbor. The boat set sail for the black rocks of the Mea Kameni volcano island where we hiked to the top. While the volcano is technically dormant, we did see steam rising from several hot spots. From there the boat took us to Palea Kameni island where hot springs meet the sea. Some people braved the freezing sea temperatures to swim into the hot springs. Some people, but not us. From the hot springs it was a quick boat ride to Ammoydi Thirassia island for lunch. Mari raved about the seafood skewers with pieces of squid as big as your palm. After all those hours in the sun, I raved about the ice-cold local beer. We climbed the 150 steps to the top of the island for an after-lunch coffee, and then hustled down to the boat to make our 2:40 getaway. The boat dropped off some people at Oia, the northernmost village on the main island. We said goodbye to our boat crew at the Fira old port. We rode the cable car up to Fira proper, and by luck alone found our way back to the hotel. After a shower and another spectacular sunset cocktail hour, we strolled to yet another (yawn) perfect dinner with a view of the Caldera as sunset became night, highlighting the twinkling lights of the cruise ships in the harbor. Friday morning we gave over to exploring Fira and shopping. After lunch we cabbed to the airport and made the half-hour back to Athens.

The trip from the airport to downtown Athens reminded me perhaps most of Rome. One moment you're traveling 120 kph on the express way. Then, three minutes off the exit ramp and you travel back a thousand years in architecture and mood. From our room at the Hilton we could see the Acropolis in the sunset, then lit from within after dark. We walked to a neighborhood restaurant. In its dining hours, Greece is closest to Spain: at 9:00 we were the only ones in the restaurant. By 10:30 when we left, the place was mostly full, and getting more so by the minute. On Saturday morning we walked the half-hour to the Acropolis. While Jerash in Jordan had prepared me for massive ruins, it had not prepared me for the crowds. Being a weekend, we literally elbowed our way past enormous throngs of locals, with some foreign tourists like us thrown in for good measure. But the crowded conditions couldn't detract from seeing in person what I'd seen in history books for so long: the Parthenon, the Agora, Hadrian's Arch, and a lot more. When we'd had our fill of history we crossed a small bridge and dropped into a seat at a sidewalk cafe for rest and refreshment. We followed our rest with a stroll through the Plaka, the historic neighborhood which borders the Acropolis grounds. Tiny streets meandered this way and that as we passed shops of all kinds, cafes, bars, and restaurants. We became hopelessly lost, but I finally figured out that didn't matter and we had fun discovering what might be around the next turn: another small park with thousands-year-old columns, or a shop blasting techno music and selling faux-military hipster wear, and everything in between. Eventually, not even another bowl of pistachio gelato could keep us going, so we walked back to the hotel, more slowly than the outbound trip.

On Sunday we spent most of the morning in the National Garden, which is like Athens's Central Park. We topped off the visit with one more cup of Greek coffee in a cafe under a canopy of trees, and headed back to the Hilton to pack.

While we hadn't set out consciously to go somewhere completely different from Jordan, we certainly did so. And while we love our home in Amman, being somewhere so green, with so many sea views, was a welcome change and left us ready for the work week ahead.

There are more photos at the flickr site, here.

Frenji Once More

When I moved to Ethiopia in 2006 I started a blog to keep my family up to date on what I was doing, and what it was like to live and work in Ethiopia as a foreigner. I called it the Ferenge Addis Blog. A "ferenge" is a white foreigner in Amharic (the official language in all of Ethiopia and the lingua franca in about 1/3 of the country). I was surprised by how many hits the blog ended up getting, usually more than 100 per day. It was used not only by Mom and Dad, but by foreigners who wanted to know about life in Addis Ababa, and Ethiopians who wanted to give their opinions about foreigners in their midst.

When I moved back to the US and was no longer Ferenge, I started this little blog (Written in Caps), to keep family updated on my frequent travels through many of the world's capitals. 

As I posted a couple of days ago, I recently accepted a position in Amman, Jordan. In the spirit of the Ferenge Addis Blog I decided to start a new blog about life and times in Amman. I was happy to see that there are already a few blogs in a similar vein. Bibs, Babs, and Bobs is about a family with a baby and a stay-at-home mom. Apricots Today is about a four-person family from the US Midwest. I feel that there's room for our new blog as well: about a childless couple working in development in Jordan. Imagine my happiness to learn that one of the acceptable translations of "foreigner" in Arabic is "frenji." While the romanization of the word is slightly different, I think it's safe to say that I'm frenji once again. 

See the Frenji Jordan Blog, here. We'll start posting some info about what it's like to move overseas, and then start from Jordan next week (!).

10 best/worst things about living in DC

I'll soon be moving away from DC for 18 months (more about that tomorrow). Contemplating the move has made me contemplate what I've loved/hated about living here the last two and a half years.

Top 10 things I love about living in DC (in no particular order):

• Public transportation
• Bike lanes that get respect.
• Traffic planning goals to make it easier for pedestrians, not cars
• Zip cars 1/4 mile from my house, max
• Great restaurants, shops, bars, all a 10-minute walk away.
• A virtual visit to Latin America by walking up Columbia Ave a couple of blocks.
• Meridian Hill Park
• Dog-friendly outdoor restaurants
• Museums and galleries
• Beach Drive on the weekend

-

Top 10 worst things about living in DC (in no particular order):

• Noise: jackhammers, back-up beepers, drunk fratboys, family riots at the projects across the street, boom-boom stereos, shooting at the crack house on the corner, helicopters, etc ad nauseum
• Traffic
• Metro's customer contempt and the resulting refusal to repair out of service escalators, train car A/C, water leaks, etc. I could go on for pages. But why should they care? What are you going to do, use the *other* Metro?
• Bicycles on crowded sidewalks (usually right next to the bike lane).
• Tourists on the Metro
• Tourists anywhere, really
• Politics as local news
• Housing prices
• Making reservations three months in advance for the best restaurants
• Noise (repeated for emphasis)

One trip, seven capitals, three weeks

On my most recent tour of Africa for fun and profit I may have set a record for capitals (the places, not the typing):

• DC, capital of the US (noisiest)
• London, capital of England, the UK, and Great Britain (worst weather, best beer, worst food)
• Nairobi, capital of Kenya (worst traffic, best hospitality)
• Lilongwe, capital of Malawi (least developed, cheapest)
• Johannesburg, capital of South Africa (best airport posing as shopping mall, most biltong)
• Mbabane, capital of Swaziland (smallest, best scenery)
• Gaborone, capital of Botswana (most fun compatriots, most boring city)