Andy and I have been driving one another increasingly nuts, so… we’ve decided to split up.

Did I get you?

No, not split up like that. Here’s what I mean: we’ve decided that being in the same French class is no longer benefitting either one of us (yes, in terms of learning French, we are driving one another nuts), so on Tuesday I’m moving to a different class. And because I’m moving out, some new people will be moving in, so Andy will have a different class dynamic too.

Patience, my friends

This should be the motto of the Foreign Service.

It seems we won’t have any information about what the tandem couplehood gods plan to bestow upon us for quite some time. My Career Development Officer wants to wait until Andy’s actually on the Register before we explore the possibilities. That could happen as soon as two months from now or as long as two years from now; you just never know for sure with security clearances. Mine took four months, so we’re banking on revisiting this topic in early January…

SOS!

Help! Somebody! Please! This is Abbey, by the way. First, a warning for all you diplo-pets out there: don’t believe it for a second when your owners tell you not to worry, that you’re not going to be boarded this time. (Boarding=jail, in case you haven’t learned that one yet.) Don’t believe it when they say that you’re just going on a little vacation and it’s actually going to be a ton of fun. Let me assure you, it’s not.

For reasons I simply cannot comprehend (wedding, airplane, out of town… I don’t know or care what any of that means), my owners have abandoned me in a house that, yes, is much bigger and nicer than my house. And yes, it has two very nice people who seem to like me a lot, inexplicably, since I am being a pretty big jerk to them. And yes, there is a deck and a yard. And lots of toys. But before you start thinking this place couldn’t possibly be so bad, let me cut to the chase.

I’m living with dogs! Two dogs. Beagles. Who bark. And want to play with me. And want to sniff me. And who can’t take a hint that I don’t like other dogs and just want to be left alone to sleep. And who also steal attention from those two very nice people, who I’d prefer to have all to myself.

Just because boy owner won some big test, he thinks he can do whatever he wants now, abandoning me like this. Well, I’ve got news for him: if I ever see him again, I’m chewing three socks as punishment. Maybe four. That’ll teach him.

But in the meantime, I’m serious: can someone come get me? Someone without any dogs? And no cats either. Please?!

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But guess what! My gag order has finally been lifted, because… Andy’s OA was today, and HE PASSED!

Not only did he pass, but he passed with a really really really good score! He did better than I did, in fact. But I’ll try not to hold that against him; after all, it was probably my brilliant coaching that gave him that extra .1 point. =)

The fact that he passed the exam, and with a score high enough to pretty much guarantee a job offer, is obviously a very good thing, but how exactly it will shape our future remains unclear.

Last we heard, there won’t be a job in Cotonou at the right time for Andy to start his FSO career there. So maybe he’ll wait a few years and try to join the Foreign Service in time for our second post. (For those thinking: “but he only has 18 months on the register!” Well, State gives spouses of FSOs two years of frozen time in addition to those 18 months.) Waiting would probably make the most sense for us personally, but we worry that State won’t be hiring as many new people in two years; maybe they won’t be hiring at all. So, another option: Andy could try to join asap and take a job somewhere not too far from Benin, like in Togo or Ghana. Living apart for two years is obviously not ideal, but if it’s the only way we can ensure Andy a spot in the Foreign Service, it might be worth it.

We’re hoping to have a better idea of logistics after meeting with my Career Development Officer, which we’ll try to do next week. For now, though, we’re just going to focus on Andy’s success.

So, off I go to Domino’s. I’ve been instructed to have a celebratory pizza awaiting his arrival home.

P.S. Did I mention, !!!!!!!!!! ?

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Meet Abbey. From the first day we had her (yep, this was it), she set the rules.

The evidence? Well, first of all, there’s that rule thing. Every one we initially established (no bed, no couch, no human food) was quickly abandoned. Also, I talk to her. When she’s not around, I talk about her. Probably 90% of the pictures I take are of her. And my social life pretty much revolves around her too: Beagle meet-ups, swimming expeditions, etc.

I haven’t resorted to clothing her yet, but who knows, that may be coming. Although Andy and I initially chuckled at these life-jacket wearing doggers, I soon got to thinking, “If she’s ever comes swimming with us in Benin, maybe that’s not such a bad idea…”

I kind of understand dogs wearing life jackets when they're actually swimming. Kind of. But these dogs were going on a boat with tall walls separating them from water of any kind.

And speaking of dogs going on boats…

This Saint Bernard enjoyed a cruise with other canine friends.

And this dog got dressed up for a Halloween parade.

So, yes, many of us spoil our furry friends, but I wonder: how much is this an American phenomena?

When researching potential posts, I remember reading with shock that dogs are so despised in certain parts of the world that you can’t walk them in public without being showered with sticks and rocks. (I think it was Malaysia, but my memory could be failing me.)

I’d love to hear about your experiences with pets overseas — both local views about pet ownership and treatment of the pets we bring.

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I have to admit that I never thought I’d consider West Virginia a prime vacation destination, but when I began searching for places less than three hours away, it quickly emerged as a strong candidate. And when we found a lovely little hotel, the deal was sealed. (Plus, there may have even been an outlet mall on the way, but shh! Andy doesn’t know the stop was premeditated.)

The lovely Hillbrook Inn. I've unfortunately become kind of a hotel snob as result of the five-star properties I stayed in for my last job at a travel company, but this is definitely up to par (and without the five-star prices). Highly recommended.

Like any good centuries-old mansion, it has nooks and crannies galore, including this tunnel that led to our room.

Tubing on the Shenandoah. "My kind of rafting," says Andy. "The kind where you sit around and do nothing."

Flea markets galore. No good finds, but plenty of good people watching.

Mmm. Fresh fruit.

We also explored Charles Town (founded by the lesser Washington brother), Harpers Ferry (meh… kind of reminded us of the Annapolis experience) and had a great dinner in the tiny dining room at our hotel (think high ceilings, dark wood, mismatched antiques, capacity of 15). Sadly our camera broke, so you don’t get to see any of that.

But you do get to see this, taken back at home with our other camera.

After two nights in jail (otherwise known as boarding), Abbey was thrilled to come home and reclaim her throne. She was also thrilled with her two new toys (otherwise known as apologies), both of which have been in her mouth ever since.

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Well, I can’t help with all of that.

But, I can give an honest review of Oakwood – Rosslyn.

Cons:

• It feels like a hotel, complete with generic artwork and fake plants.
• The kitchen equipment they give you is adequate, but not great.
• Our floors have carpet and we have a dog – enough said.
• Rosslyn is not the most exciting neighborhood – you could certainly find something hipper in Foggy Bottom, Georgetown or a number of other neighborhoods in DC proper.
• The building is one of the older corporate apartments in the area and in no way feels modern.
• It’s not as nice as some other buildings. Nothing major is wrong, but we’ve had a lot of minor difficulties since we moved in – some plugs don’t work, lack of lighting in the living room, cigarette butts all over the balcony when we arrived.

Pros:

• It’s easy – no apartment hunting, no per diem reimbursements, no leases to worry about.
• There is a pool and there are grills.
• The housekeeper comes once a week to keep the place looking its best.
• While Rosslyn may not be hip, there is a grocery store and some restaurants – it could really be much worse. When I lived in Michigan I would have loved a neighborhood so walkable.
• The staff has been very helpful.
• Washer and dryer and dishwasher in every unit.
• We have a balcony, complete with plastic furniture.
• No utility bills to think about.
• Super-convenient to get to FSI – there are shuttles leaving very often in the morning and the stop is about three blocks away. Other Oakwoods have shuttles, but I think this is the only one within walking distance of a shuttle that leaves every 5-10 minutes.
• Occasionally there will be free dinner, like pizza, tacos, nachos and s’mores (yep, nachos and s’mores are dinner).
• Free, but kind of crummy, breakfast every morning.
• There is a common room with a huge TV and pool table.
• The biggest selling point, though, is that at least a dozen of Alex’s classmates live here in the building too. It gives you an instant social circle. One night, even though Alex wasn’t able to join me, I had dinner with three other people who live here – I wouldn’t have been able to do that if we lived in an awesome loft in Georgetown.

All in all, we’re happy here. Sure, sometimes we look longingly at the amazing lofts across the street and realize we could have afforded something like that in DC. And yes, sometimes we get a little tired of the dreary tan carpet which has clearly seen better days. Oh and I’ll admit that living in Rosslyn makes me feel a little bit like I’d imagine someone in New Jersey must feel when they look out at Manhattan every morning. But the convenience more than makes up for it. Although you can bet that the next time we live in Washington we’ll be strongly considering the Residence Inn down the street. I heard they have free breakfast and lunch.

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Here are some YouTube videos we found recently from Benin. Enjoy!

-Alex

First, here’s a nicely-produced introduction to Cotonou. It’s in French, but you can get a good visual sense of the city.

Now, here’s a less flattering depiction. Cotonou. Rush hour. Enough said.

Think driving couldn’t get any worse? Two words: rainy season.

Now you see why high clearance was of utmost importance in our car search.

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It’s been a big advantage that both of us can speak to each other while we’re at home. It probably doubles the amount of time I spend actually speaking French each day. The drawback, though, is that sometimes enough is enough. My language consultant made it a point to tell me that one or two hours after class was sufficient. If I worked any harder, he said, my brain would explode. Ok, he used words like “inefficient” and “overuse” but you get the idea.

Alex didn’t.

And so we invented a game. It’s one in which we take a short break after class, then we only speak French for an hour. Then we take another break followed by our final hour of French for the day. Since she wasn’t sticking to the rules, I implemented a new one – every time she accidentally broke into French during our designated English time, we delayed French time by five minutes. On Friday I got out of a solid 15 minutes of French because she couldn’t stop herself from saying “merci” or “avez-vous les cles?” or “ou est Abbey?”

As tough as it is to come home and speak French, I’m glad we have the opportunity. It’s been invaluable. Of course the fact that sometimes we can’t help but to speak French is also a sign of just how intense this program can be, and how important taking a break can be.

After all, the last thing we want around here is for any brains to explode. I mean, to be inefficient with our studies.

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We’ve been doing fine on in-class tests, and although we of course wish we could just know everything already, we can see the progress we’ve made. So we weren’t really sweating this evaluation, but still, when it comes to language testing at FSI, you just don’t know until you know.

Now we know.

The good news: We both got exactly the same score (despite each of our best efforts to one-up the other).

The even better news: We both scored slightly higher than the target for this point in training.

Phew. Knowing we’re totally on track and even a bit ahead takes off some of the pressure. Not that we plan to stop working hard. Everyone keeps telling me that language learning is a strange beast, with both strides and plateaus when you least expect them. I believe it. Still, if we keep at it, we should have no trouble reaching the level we need in time to apply for an immersion trip. Yep, always thinking about the important stuff.

Curious just how much (or little, as the case may be) French we speak at this point? Check out this video of an English learner at a comparable level to ours:

Here’s where we need to be by early October in order to apply for an immersion trip:

And, most importantly, here’s where we need to be in mid-December to pass the end-of-training exam:

So… yes, we still have quite a ways to go. Back to the books for me.

P.S. Click here if you want to see the whole spectrum of FSI-designated levels, with detailed written descriptions too.

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This is Nice, France. Looks pretty nice, no? Well, I certainly think so. In fact, it’s what’s been getting me through my long grammar-filled days lately.

Let me explain.

Some language departments at FSI arrange two-week immersion trips for their students. A bunch of my A-100 colleagues who are a few months into their Spanish training are actually off studying in Buenos Aires at this very moment. (Life is rough, eh?)

The French department doesn’t arrange any such trips, but they will allow me to go on one provided I work out the details myself. And pay for it. And convince them it’ll help me. (Read: Complete lots of paperwork. This is the government, after all.)

There are also some other bureaucratic… challenges. (Andy refers to these as bureaucratic nightmares, but I’m working on this whole diplomacy thing.)

Because my French has to be at a certain level before I apply, and because I must apply a certain amount of time before my trip, and because my trip must be a certain length, and because I must return to FSI for a certain amount of time before my final French exam, well, by my calculations, there’s a narrow window of somewhere in the vicinity of a few hours that I’ll actually be eligible to apply. Hmm. And that’s assuming I remain on track.

But no worries. I’m convinced to make it work.

I have to. I need something to look forward to. Focusing on French every day without an end in sight is tiring. Barring an emergency, I can’t take any vacation time during my training. And this immersion trip — because I would be learning and studying after all — wouldn’t count as a vacation. Not that it would be like a vacation. I would be in class as many hours as I would be at FSI. Maybe more. And then, of course, I’d have to use my French the rest of the day too.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it’d be a nice change of pace, and I really do think it would help.

If I am lucky enough to get to do an immersion trip, it doesn’t necessarily have to be in Nice, and maybe in the end it wouldn’t be. There are immersion programs pretty much everywhere French is spoken: Senegal, Morocco, Monaco, Guadeloupe, Belgium, Switzerland, elsewhere in France… But, thus far, price and reputation make the Nice program the front-runner. (And yes, I realize that late fall isn’t exactly perfect timing to visit the south of France, but you take what you can get.)

Andy plans to come too. So who wants Abbey for two weeks in early November? Don’t all volunteer at once.

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“Conservatives view you as a paper-pushing, overeducated bureaucrat who talks with the foreigners instead of kicking their asses. Liberals view you as a tool of an imperialist, capitalist, globalist machine that kills babies and puppies in poor countries. To the apolitical you’re just this weird guy who volunteered to move from third-world country to third-world country every two years.”

So true.

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