Domiz

         There are times in life when you see something powerful enough to leave a lasting impression that any photo would fail to do it justice.  Today was one of those times as I went to the Syrian refugee camp at Domiz.  For anyone who hasn’t followed the headlines of the Middle East, Assad’s regime in Syria is desperately clinging to power by brutally repressing the Syrian people with little regard for civilian casualties.  Thousands have been killed, and many more have been displaced.  Many of those that had to flee their homes have now landed in northern Iraq. 

            The camp at Domiz is only a short 15-20 minute drive outside of Duhok on the way to the Mosul Dam, where I often swam in the summer.  Passing through the city of Domiz you eventually come to a meandering dirt road.  In the distance you can see the tents, a clear sign that you have arrived.  There is no more pavement, only dust that is kicked up with any sign of movement.  Over a month ago the BBC reported that over 8,000 Syrians now occupied the camp; my guide, Sherzad, informed us that there were far more tents than the last time he came.  Evidently, Angelina Jolie and her entourage came to tour this very same area just two weeks ago. 

Refugee camps earn the title “tent cities” for a reason; there are rows and rows of transient homes, side by side, extending into the distance.  There is little to no space between the tents and maybe 20 feet separating each row.  As far as amenities there are none.  The few open tents that I saw contained nothing more than the most basic of goods: some clothes, possibly some cooking utensils, and makeshift chairs.  That is about it.  We were told that the first arrivals had electricity from long cables running throughout the camp, as well as water from tanks scattered about.  Newer arrivals, outside the barbed wire gates with an armed guard, are beginning to fill the surrounding areas.  They are not so lucky. 

Before coming to Domiz the initial questions lingering in my mind were, “Is this a good idea?  Is this safe?”  Standing there outside the vehicle, letting everything sink in, it became clear that I was foolish.  Even if I had been in danger, I needed to see this.  I was ashamed for being so concerned with myself when thousands of people before my very eyes were living a destitute existence.  I had neglected to purchase any goods to bring because I had few Iraqi Dinar left, but I also maintained fear of how this whole process would work.  Again, I felt ashamed.  The only thing I brought was my soccer ball, which I quickly threw to a few kids who were eyeing it.  They seemed surprised, yet happy at this gift, and immediately ran away to start playing.  I should have done more. 

These people have had to travel hundreds of miles from their homes just to find safety.  Upon arrival they are reduced to the most basic existence, scraping by on just enough to survive.  As the trunk opened and the food was brought into the light, the scattered people loitering about began to come over.  Many hands were extended as Sherzad began to hand out boxes of bread, one by one.  The beneficiaries were clearly in need, yet remained polite; there was no mass riot and no more than 10 people around the car at a time.  The security guard remained by us the whole time, and we didn’t stray from the periphery of the camp.  By the time the bread had been distributed the latecomers showed clear signs of dejection, but moved along.  The eyes of those all around shared a similar message: things are tough, but move it along. 

The visceral feeling that arose as I was leaving the camp left me in almost complete silence.  In that short ride I sat immersed in my thoughts.  For weeks I have been concerning myself with job hunting, packing, vacations, student loans, etc. To say that these things are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things is the understatement of the century.  I feel a far deeper appreciation for what I do have now that I have seen those that had no choice but to leave it all behind.  This experience reminded me that all my troubles are washed away not by “solving” them, but by alleviating the troubles of others.  After starting to feel jaded, I needed a fresh spark of idealism, even though it came in the most unlikely of places.  

Picture from online:

Thankful Again

* From September 15th *           

           As protests erupt all across the Middle East over a low-budget film insulting Mohammed, I find myself again thankful that I am in the Kurdish enclave of the north.  The amount of craziness permeating the region over a stupid video is actually quite mind-boggling.  It seems that the video is being jumped on by every sheikh and mullah with a radical agenda as a reason to incite the masses.  Most people probably wouldn’t even hear about it as the film is really quite insignificant.  However, anti-Western hardliners will find every reason to lash out and the video was just the next likely excuse to do it. 

            It is quite shameful actually because Islam, in daily life, is nothing like this.  Car-bombs, pelting women with stones, storming embassies, etc. represent the views of a conservative minority. Your average citizens, even here in Kurdistan, are just victims of an inability to critically think for themselves.  This is due to an education system based on pure authority, rigid social structures they must follow, a lack of free media, and religious beliefs that don’t permit you to question anything.  Combined with a dearth of opportunities, they are ripe for misunderstanding and misplaced anger.  This video is a prime example. 

Most Muslims do not hate the West.  They hate our foreign policy adventurism and fawning over Israel, but so do I.  People back home misunderstand this to be a blanket degradation of everything we stand for.  This is partially the medias fault as the only time you see a Muslim on TV they are burning a flag and yelling, “Allah Akbar!” Although the Middle East is behind the West in probably every standard of living, they are finally “waking up.”  The Arab Spring will prove to be a momentous occasion in world history.  I hope that Islam doesn’t creep too much into the newly established democratically elected governments of the region.  I am a fervent believer in the separation of church and state.  However, if that is what the people want in those countries, then so be it.  We might not always like what the people vote for in a democracy, but we must respect it regardless. 

The problem lies, again, in a well-organized and vocal minority.  Governments are condemning the recent attacks, as are many citizens, but I hope that these incidents don’t further inculcate fear over Islam.  The Arab Spring was a great opportunity for the people of the Middle East to finally have their voices heard after years of oppression.  I hope that they don’t let their popular movements become hijacked by the ultraconservative.  The videographer was wrong to make the video but completely within his free speech to do so.  It is natural for a Muslim to get upset about it, but the extent of this backlash is uncalled for…especially since it was a random person, an Egyptian no less, who created it, not any government.  Large and complex topic, but I felt it necessary to muse about it for at least a little bit.  Although I feel safe here in Kurdistan, it is still unsettling to see hordes of angry and violent protestors storming embassies in countries all around you. 

North > South

  When articles like this come out it makes me incredibly thankful I'm in the Kurdish northern part of the country: http://www.wbur.org/2012/09/09/iraq-attacks   On the way back from the conference in Sulaimani we accidentally drove through Kirkuk....a city where a bomb exploded the other day.  It was only a quick drive-through, but nevertheless, news articles take on a different feel when you are that close to the action.  

Against the Tide

            I’m not sure if it is just this university, city, entire area, or perhaps even region, but it is difficult to get past the feeling that you are always swimming against the tide.  Good ideas always seem stifled; hard work gets glossed over; and if something productive does manage to eek its way through the pipeline, an overbearing bureaucracy will quickly stamp it out.  In a nutshell, this place destroys your motivation to do anything more than collect a paycheck, and even that is a difficult process. 

            Today the cold hard reality finally set in: no matter how much groundwork I lay for this Career Development Center, they are going to find some way to ignore it and completely muck it up.  People with no experience will be hired based on connections, or another patchwork of part-time employees will be cobbled together further ignoring the untenable nature of such a situation.  I should have known this already, and part of me probably did, but naively thought I could change the realities of an inefficiency seemingly embedded in the local culture.  At this point, it seems the only reason I am continuing this work at all for the next 3 weeks is to add it to my resume.  Sad, since I really wanted to see it succeed, but true.   It is times like this that I relish the opportunity to go back to America and work with people who, by and large, actually work hard in a meritocratic system.  

Goal = Achieved

           One of the biggest things I learned from my short time at Vector Marketing was that you never get what you want unless you ask for it.  Thankfully, I brought up a goal of mine at the right place and the right time.  I made the ask, and it happened.   Sitting at lunch at Ava’s house, a former student of mine, with her family we were chatting about random things.  Naturally it came up that I was leaving soon.  I also decided to add in, “But I still haven’t accomplished one key goal…I want to shoot an AK-47 wearing all traditional Kurdish clothes.”  To my pleasant surprise, her father said “Ok, let’s go on Saturday.”

            The drive out to this little area took about an hour.  Seven of us were crammed into the SUV and, due to an almost obsequious hospitality, I was lucky enough to get the front.  The car was packed full of stuff for a picnic, but my main foci were not being hung over and getting into the Kurdish garb to pack some heat.  As we arrived the first thing that stood out, as usual, was the view.  The sun was slowly setting behind the surrounding mountains, which made the temperature slightly cooler, but it still shone brightly over the fields. 

            Shortly after, it was time for the action to begin.  One of the sons placed a bottle about 50 meters away; the target was set.  First, we took some shots with a 9mm Beretta.  I had already done that before so I wasn’t overly excited; it was just the warm up for the main event.  Then, I put on the Kurdish clothes.  I was told the name but I forgot about 5 minutes later.  The photo shoot began as I struck different poses with the most common assault rifle in the world today.  When I fired it I expected a greater kickback but it was surprisingly smooth and very easy to handle.  I didn’t hit the small bottle, but it was only my first time shooting a weapon like that. 

            After I took some shots I quickly removed the hat, as my head was sweating, and we went to gather fruits and vegetables.  The fields were stocked with grapes, figs, aubergines, okra, pomegranates, and tomatoes.  We cooked some delicious chicken wings over a small grill, a Kurdish favorite, and then I laid out in the beautiful night sky under the stars.  All in all, it was a really fun day.  

Nearing the End

It has been over a month since I have written.  The end of Ramadan came and went, and I vacationed in Turkey with Florence.  Oh yeah, and I’m now engaged.  Since returning to Kurdistan things have gone well.  With the end so clearly in my sights, how could it not? 

            My role at Career Development Center has expanded a great deal.  When the Director left I took over in an Interim role.  In the United States I would not have been offered such an opportunity, and at a major university it is probably for good reason.  I relish any opportunity to expand my skill set, and my CV, and it now appears that career development is a path I am considering as I apply to jobs.  I want to be able to connect to students, something that is leading me to mostly apply at universities, but career development offers an external portion that allows me to stay connected to the “real” world.  It has certainly been frustrating at times as I feel that I am doing much of the work alone, but my main focus is laying the foundation for the CDC’s success; anything that happens after is on them. 

            One opportunity that the CDC presented which I found to be quite enjoyable was a trip to Sulaimani.  It is about 5 hours away from Duhok but feels much different culturally.  The city has much more bottle shops, bars, and it seems far less conservative than Duhok.  The American University there has some pretty amazing brand new buildings.  The rest of campus is dry and mostly unsightly dirt, but the buildings are top notch.  I also found out that a teacher there makes $6,000/month.  That, combined with working with numerous other Americans, naturally led me to think, “What am I doing in Duhok?” 

            Overall, I am glad that I spent my time here.  Some American friends of mine, a married couple with two young children, recently asked me what I gained from my experience.  At first, it was tough to answer.  It is clearer now.  I know what it is like to be alone and entirely self sufficient.  Living away from home before has certainly provided me with plenty of experience in the American context; however, there is something distinctly different about living 6,000 miles away from everything you know and love.  With much free time, and an inability to connect with most of the population, you are forced to spend time with just you and your thoughts.  The computer provided a much needed release, and living with Samuel and Paige certainly helped give some taste of the West; however, being in Duhok has given a greater opportunity to increase my capacity for: handling diversity, facing challenges you have no control over, and remaining calm no matter what happens. 

            There are many more things that I wish I could have, or should have, accomplished here.  The NGO consulting firm never got off the ground despite my grandiose expectations.  This was a lesson in humility and that just because you are doing the right thing doesn’t mean that it will automatically work.    I never learned Kurdish, or even attempted to, and I probably should have taken greater advantage of this opportunity of language immersion.  I don’t think this will hurt me too much down the road, though.  I did manage to see a fairly great deal of the Kurdistan Region, and long after I leave it will certainly have a special place in my thoughts, despite the setbacks I have faced while here. 

            Another important nugget of wisdom from this experience has been the opportunity to view America from the outside.  We are still looked at as a beacon for many of the people here, and rightfully so, but this experience has certainly changed my view on US foreign policy.  It seems that the most impactful forms of diplomacy aren’t those instituted by the State Department or any official government program; it comes just by having real Americans to talk to, exchange ideas, work together, and see what people are really like.  While I still feel that foreign aid is a necessary tool, I am quite alright with focusing more on providing tangible goods and services to those in need (mosquito nets, hurricane assistance, etc.) rather than capacity building.  I don’t want to turn this into a wonkish discussion of foreign policy nuances as I am admittedly speaking from personal experience and not in-depth research. 

            Overall, the experience has been fruitful.  I have been offered to stay here at the university as full-time Executive Director of the Career Development Center, but I don’t see myself staying in Duhok and Florence has zero desire to even enter the country, regardless of how lucrative we could make the salaries (they provided the carrot that if I stayed they would hire Florence too.)  What is next for me?  Only time will tell.  I set the goal of applying to one job per day since returning to vacation.  That would total 41 before I leave; thus far I have applied to 16, right on schedule.  Locations applied to are literally all over the country.  Where the first interview and offer will come from I don’t yet know. 

As of now, applying for jobs is an exciting process.  There is something alluring about not knowing what is next on the horizon.  However, I am certain that if I don’t have something locked up by January that excitement will turn to desperation as I am unable to collect unemployment in the US due to not having collected a paycheck in the US for a full year.  Until now, I just have to stay positive, steadily keep on plugging away, and I am sure that something will come up.  It is funny because I have applied to entry level positions which I am clearly overqualified for, and this job I am applying to now is nearly a senior level position at a community college.  Just roll the dice and see what comes up…..

A few pics from vacation for the non-Facebook savvy people aka Dad.

The Great Valley

            Any child born in the 80s or 90s should know the story of The Great Valley.  The Land Before Time was a classic movie that captivated us with the story of young dinosaurs trying to find the only oasis left in a world crumbling around them.  Yesterday was like a scene from the climax of the movie when they finally reach The Great Valley. 

            Aza, Samuel, Sherzad and myself left Duhok around 1pm to head towards the Barzan area of Kurdistan.  It is about two hours away, yet the ride somehow feels far shorter than the one to Erbil.  Perhaps it was the company, or maybe it was just the excitement of going somewhere new.  Either way, the views are quite breathtaking. 

            What made the experience more memorable was the information we were given along the way.  Evidently we were headed to PKK territory.  This group is officially labeled a terrorist organization by the US government, yet they are a Kurdish group who primarily dwells in the mountains and fights the Turkish government.  They want the same thing many Kurds want, independence, but they go about it in a more forceful way.  While currently controlled by the PKK, this very road used to be the final point that any citizen could reach during the Iran-Iraq war.  Going any further was asking for trouble.  At the end of the war, Saddam retaliated against Kurdish opposition by using chemical weapons in this same area.  Thousands of Barzani tribesmen were killed, and the after effects of the chemical weapons resonated for years.  There are still areas in which vegetation will not grow, and for some time large swaths of the landscape were died purple from the chemicals. 

            The car ride was a moving history lesson which I was eating up.  Hearing all of this naturally gave me a sense of excitement.  The river running parallel to the road laid at the bottom of massive rock formations and the faces of cliffs.  The water was cold, fast moving, and fairly clean.  There were no outward signs of industrial pollution; however, the people in this area are quite irresponsible when it comes to trash disposal.  They still view the Earth as an object for their use rather than something that we need to preserve.  Such a beautiful area, yet it is littered with trash.  It is thrown with such disregard, and it honestly makes me want to throw them into the water since they swim like rocks. 

I was told that the bridge that was quite near to where we were swimming, about 100 meters, was bombed by the Turkish Air Force, and subsequently rebuilt, just a few months ago.  There were a few families there sitting under a canopy, so I wasn’t particularly worried.  The current was quite strong in the water which made for some enjoyable swimming.  Where the stream met the river provided a nice location with slightly warmer water to enjoy a natural massage.  I’m very glad we took this trip and got to see another part of Kurdistan.  There is a great deal of places like this in the area, but it is shame because nobody is assigned to take care of them.  Trash is found all over the place, infrastructure is old, and the only tourists are from a few miles away.  Perhaps it is better left as a hidden gem, but at least take care of it for your own sake.  Look at how amazing it is!!!

Ramadan

          I am posting around one week into the Islamic holy month of Ramadan.  Even while living in America I knew the obligations of Muslims during Ramadan: no eating, drinking, sexual relations, or negative-speech or behavior from sun-up to sun-down.  This part has always been clear, and a few years ago I even practiced this for one day to see how it was.  However, it takes on an entirely different meaning when you are living in a country where everyone practices Islam. 

            From sun-up to sun-down virtually ALL restaurants have shuttered their doors.  Any Christian establishments that want to remain open do so behind a large drape which makes it completely inconspicuous.  We tried going to the liquor store, as they are ostensibly Christian owners, but even they were closed.  We later realized that this was possibly due to ministerial warnings about not opening liquor stores during Ramadan because of increased threats of violence.  For a large portion of the day an already sluggish society moves to a near standstill. 

            Workdays for all public organizations are cut and many people show signs of fatigue.  What I later learned was that the fatigue isn’t all from fasting.  When they break the fast at sundown, 7:30pm, they have a large feast with their families; but there is another pre-dawn meal at 2:30am.  Many students have told me they don’t even go to sleep before 5am during Ramadan.  Much of the daily life, save for work, simply shifts into the twilight hours.  Typically I go to the gym at around 6:30pm; for the next 3 weeks I have to go from 9pm-11pm.  Needless to say, this has decimated my sleep schedule and two of the past three nights I have stayed up all night.  This is akin to the life of a typical Kurd; during Ramadan they stay up nearly all night and then sleep the early parts of the day away.  Admittedly, it is ridiculously hot outside and I too find myself content with the prospects of loafing around. 

            I won’t delve into the specific positive or negative aspects of Ramadan as I don’t want to turn this into an overtly religious discussion.  However, I will make a comment that is, in my opinion, universally applicable to every major religion.   The benefits of Ramadan (fasting, self-denial, cleansing) are often tinged with the same hypocrisy that simultaneously dampens the spiritual benefits (gorging after fasting, sleeping the day away to avoid hours of fasting, forcing women to wear the hijab who normally wouldn’t).  Overall, as with any religion, the core belief is often different than the act of practicing it, especially 1,400 years later in contemporary society.  I am still an outsider trying to learn, and until I get invited to someone’s house for iftar (the feast breaking the fast) I’m going to continue sulking about having to work out at 10pm.  

Work

            Ah yes, the topic that always seems to have the least amount of new information possible.  There is a litany of reasons for this, but rather than ranting about inefficiencies in the Kurdish economy I’ll stick to the topic at hand.  Not much has been happening on this front. Kevin and I are supposed to be teaching two separate summer English courses with 33 students assigned to each course.  Now in its second week, the course has between 17-29 TOTAL students and Kevin and I are splitting the responsibilities.  The summer schedule was originally proposed to last from 10:30am-2:30pm with an hour break for lunch.  However, that has been condensed to around 10:30am-1:00pm with minimal breaks since the Muslim students cannot eat or drink during daylight hours in Ramadan anyways. 

            The class is fairly easy since the material is largely pre-planned according to a solid textbook that Kevin purchased in Malaysia.  The atmosphere is very laid back, there is no grade after all, and there is no pressure to be a disciplinarian.  What was expected to be a pretty easy 3 months till departure got a little bit easier. 

            The only counterbalance to this schedule hand-crafted in slacker’s paradise is my responsibilities at the nascent Career Development Center (CDC.)   Initially this project seemed to be moving at the speed of molasses.  The office wasn’t set up; staff was largely unsure of their roles; resources were scant; and the director’s travel schedule made a grand vision ephemeral.  Recently, things have begun piecing together.  Although the CDC staff is a patchwork of employees whose primary responsibilities lie somewhere else at the university, including myself, I have found them to be fairly motivated.  Typically, Kurdish work ethic consists of ignoring emails, coming late to meetings, and making empty promises.  However, this group, all having been educated abroad, comes with a greater sense of seriousness about what they do.  In the few hours each week I spend with them, we tend to get things done and cut out the wasteful gallivanting.    

            My responsibilities with the CDC are twofold, one far more grandiose than the other: 1) Establish skills workshops for 4 different departments on campus, total of over 1,000 students, over a weeklong period; and 2) Develop an internship program by bringing university faculty on board, changing their curriculum, building university connections with employers, and getting students on board.  Despite this feat, namely the second task, being nearly impossible in my remaining months, I have taken to the task.  It will be good to put on the resume and will hopefully solidify a glowing recommendation from my supervisor.  Although I won’t see the end game, I will get to lay the foundation. 

            Thus far the only problem has been dealing with Kurds other than my colleagues.  A meeting of Deans was organized for last week but, 30 minutes into the scheduled meeting time, nobody showed up.  As people fretted about wondering what happened, I started calling them and asking where they were.  Catching the hint, my colleagues started to do the same.  Meetings were rescheduled and upon reconvening Heja and I impressed upon them the vision for what we wanted to achieve.  So far, they seem to get it.  Now, it is my hope that they start to earn their excessive honorifics that they adorn themselves with by using titles like Prof. Dr.  The only thing more fitting would be putting redundant at the end.  

Escape

          I previously posted some pictures of myself and a few others swimming at the Mosul Lake.  I recently went there again, twice actually, to try and cool off from the 110-125F degree scorching heat.  That clear blue water provides the perfect escape from an otherwise arid existence of trying to hide in whatever locale has a functioning air conditioner.  There is also a playful aspect, for me anyways, to this seemingly unrecognized oasis, and that is the mud which surrounds the water.  Anything beyond a meter from the shore is a bone-dry, earth colored clay.  There are a few rocks but it is otherwise fairly smooth, with its only inhabitants being some scrubby brush.  However, once you get close to the water your feet immediately sink into the softened clay.  At one point I was even up to my knees in this soft mud.  Naturally feeling the need to express my inner child, I began to cake the mud all over my body and enjoy its texture.   Once in the water we swam to the rock formation, as seen in the picture, and climbed up only to plunge into the water below.  There’s nothing like swimming in a lake on a hot summer day. 

While the previous story addressed trying to escape the heat, this one will tell of my experience embracing it.  Samuel and I had been commenting for some time that we wanted to confront the foothills surrounding Duhok.  This had been going on for a few weeks until one lazy morning we managed to coax ourselves out of an “Entourage” filled respite (This popular HBO show has been our mental escape to a lavish Western life).  We also managed to cajole my friend Aza into joining us on our journey.  As we began to trek out of our Zeri Land flat we noticed that, despite our waiting until 3pm to leave, the heat was still unrelenting.  Regardless, we continued.

           As you will see from pictures these foothills are not overly high and are anything but treacherous.  There are no instances of having to climb solid rock, and most of the way up it is just a steady incline up the stony face of the hill.  The distance itself isn’t the problem; the paramount challenge is the sun.  This particular day it was around 115F; simply walking outside for more than 2 minutes is enough to break a sweat.  Luckily for us, there were a few scattered trees along the hillside to provide some needed shade as we snacked on some fruit and enjoyed the view. 

            After about 30 minutes walking, 5 unpleasant minutes through what appeared to be a garbage dump, Aza started to falter.  The heat, and his lamentations that he should have come to the gym with me, were starting to take their toll.  Samuel went ahead unabashed; I stayed back a bit and ensured that our little troop made the summit together.    Once we reached the apex a few minutes later the views of the city were quite spectacular.  I had driven up to a hilltop opposite the city before, but because I had to work for this one it was all the sweeter. 

            There were a few old forts on top of the hill which, as I had been informed, were used by Saddam’s troops, the peshmerga, as well as the PKK.  Evidently, nobody had used them in 7-10 years.  The walls were crumbling and all metal remains were well rusted; what I believe were AK-47 shells were also scattered about.  From the top you could see all of Duhok.  It is a large city population wise, but from above it looks like a massive village tucked in the hillsides.  An interesting aspect of our climb was the views of the wealthier neighborhood.  A massive man-made plateau rests above the city which houses the areas richest residents.  It is surrounded by concrete walls, and the houses are far larger than those of the average citizen.  The foundation of this plateau seems like it will lose stability over time; ironically enough, their questionable derivation of wealth is probably equally unstable.  All in all, it was a worthwhile.  Our trip was topped off with a well deserved meal from Athena-300, a haphazardly named Greek inspired restaurant attempting to combine two warring city-states into one.  

          

            

Catching Up

          Again I have completely slacked off with keeping up with the blog.  The metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel is fast approaching, about 2.5 months away, and I seem to be patiently biding my time until my farewell.  Among other things, this has led to a general sense of languor.  I’m doing what I have to do, keeping my head down, and remaining content with whatever happens because I know it’ll all be over soon.  However, there are some experiences that are worth sharing.  I will break them up into separate posts.  

Opportunities

          For anyone who maintains at least fairly constant contact with me you know that I recently took a 3 week excursion to Istanbul, Turkey, Alcala, Spain, and Paris, France.  I didn’t really have the time or the inclination to blog during this time, but I will sum up the experience in a word: amazing.  It was everything I hoped it would be and was the perfect combination of exploring new places, spending time with old friends, and fanning rekindled flames.  I won’t say too much more than that, but I will post a few pictures which are worth seeing. 

            Now that I am back in Iraq I have a renewed sense of perspective on a few different things.  First, I was feeling pretty down about the experience before the vacation.  Part of it was the “3-month blues,” but there was certainly something deeper.  Given the lack of progress and empty promises abounding around me I felt myself beginning to feel jaded.  Getting away allowed me to step back, appreciate life a little bit, and start to focus on making the most of what little time left I have here. 

            I take pride in being fairly consistently critical of what I am doing or not doing.  It allows me to try and maintain focus and remain productive.  I have definitely tried a few different things while here, the NGO, a volunteering project, but lately I have admittedly given up hope for any new endeavors.  This place has the ability to build up your hope for an amazing sounding opportunity, and then suck the life out of it with a nefariously programmed vacuum.  Always the consummate idealist, my experience has certainly been touched with a healthy dose of reality, albeit in slightly different circumstances. 

The focus of my remaining 12-weeks has been shifted to one thing: the next step.  Florence and I have begun planning our wedding in earnest.  TV would make you think that planning a wedding is the most taxing experience in the world; one that draws couples into power struggles and financial ruin.  To Florence’s credit, she has been absolutely amazing.  We have agreed on nearly everything so far and, at every step of the way, she has exhibited a willingness to compromise and realistic expectations in the face of a limited budget.  Seeing how she has handled this process has only further deepened my feelings for her. 

            In addition, I have begun searching for jobs.  Figuring out the “next” steps in life is proving to be the most elusive goal of all.  Even defining what I want is hampered by the reality of a still tepid, at best, job market.  Seeing where my expectations meet reality, and what location they happen to meet in, will undoubtedly be a stressful and exciting endeavor.  I only hope that my experience here will put me on solid ground to begin the next phase of my career. 

            I labeled this post opportunities because the next 3-6 months of my life will define the next 2-3 years.  Since 2003, the year I started as a naïve young freshman at Seton Hall, I have lived in a new place every year but one.  I have thoroughly enjoyed the new experiences, and they have certainly been formative, but this next phase of my life will be characterized by a great deal more stability.  It is my hope, and prayer, that I am prepared for opportunities as they arise and have the foresight to recognize them when they present themselves.   

Pictures from the vacation: