windy days

greetings from chicago:

where fall has come quickly; where newsroom recruiters aren't as scary as they're touted to be; where moderate consumption of alcohol suddenly seems possible; where overdevelopment, real estate prices and parking troubles are beginning to rival new york; where news continues to be interesting and there is no scarcity of public officials embroiled in corruption scandals; where certain parts of the city actually manage to ethnically and racially integrate; and where driving stick is a big pain in the ass because of all the traffic lights and stop signs but great for parallel parking.

i was only supposed to show up here for a week, but things have been going so well on the job hunt front that i extended my stay. i've had several productive and encouraging meetings and there are even more on tap next week.

wonderful to see friends, most of whom have relocated their homes, some of whom have even purchased them! some of them even have new jobs, and make more money than i could ever dream of making as a journalist - more than a potential spouse and i could hope to make combined!

nothing terribly exciting happening. here are some random observations to fill out the rest of this blog post: cigarettes are unbelievably expensive here - at least seven bucks a pack; gas prices fluctuate for no apparent reason - ranging in price from 3.20 to 3.60 from block to block; the chicago tribune is a better newspaper than i remembered it being but that may be because the quality of other papers has declined so drastically; there's a dog called a "labradoodle" - a combination lab and poodle - that's extremely popular among dog owners in hyde park (are americans so bored they need to invent new dog breeds to occupy their time?); and really, why did we ever drink pabst blue ribbon?

if you weren't able to catch this great article in last sunday's new york times, i really suggest taking a glance. it's one of the more compelling investigative works i've read in quite a while and really well written and sourced. it's apparently part of a larger series that the times is working on, entitled golden opportunities, about the ways in which corporate america is turning aging into a business. as a concept, totally disgusting but one that's been around for a while. i suppose we deserve it to a certain extent if we're hell-bent on artificially extending the natural limit of the human lifespan and the ability of our bodies to continue functioning.

party like it's 1999

Time to stop whining, I suppose, and posturing as one of those pretentious returned expats who can't comprehend why on earth her fellow countrymen could not only stomach, but even -- god forbid -- enjoy, life in the states. so please forgive the arrogance and the damning remarks about vapid americans. we're all aware of our own shortcomings, i'm sure, and needn't them revisited at every opportunity.

It's been a week since my so-called triumphant return and i'm starting to return to the realm of reality - a daily confrontation of the fact that i'm overeducated, unemployed, financially insolvent and bored shitless by the news here. except for this one article, which i thought was pretty f'ing amazing. aside from my daily half-hour dosage of BBC World on PBS, and the occasional NPR briefing, i can't stomach television news. is brian williams really reporting on stephen colbert's broken wrist? and katie couric, well, i'm beyond words for that one...

check out this interesting article two of my colleagues just filed on a recent trip to somalia. i'm just wondering when the world is going to stop focusing all of its attention on darfur -- yes, an incredibly horrific conflict -- and start remembering that there are other conflicts that are equally as damning for the people that have to survive them. on a lighter note, have you read about the ebola outbreak in DRC?

it's y2-k, ethiopian style. i imagine most people might be aware of this because the Black Eyed Peas headlined the festivities there. in a multi-million dollar stadium commissioned entirely for the event that will probably see minimal use after the festivities, admission prices to which, btw, were absurdly inflated and equal to at the very least two month's wages.

i'll be attempting to make my way to chicago next week to visit some friends, make the rounds at some local news organisations that i'd like to work for and beg some help from the old hacks running that overpriced graduate programme i attended.

kesho, i head into the city to meet up with some journalism friends and it will certainly be interesting to see how i adjust to happenings in an urban setting. it's been relatively peaceful spending time on the beach, fishing out on the boat with my pops, watching dvds i'd borrowed from the library (they obviously do not have the most up-to-date collection, but i'm not complaining compared to what kind of shit i've been forced to digest in nairobi), reading, catching up with people one by one, bike riding and drinking beer in the hammock. sounds totally lazy and ridiculous, right? but i figure i'm entitled after all those 60 plus hour work weeks, no?

i'm also thinking that its about time to change the name of this blog... i'm taking suggestions.

The Return: Day Two

Slow going. Sleeping at inappropriate hours. Marveling at the exorbitant prices in the grocery store. Lengthy excursion to cell phone shop to acquire means of communication. Harsh cigarettes that burn my throat. Scouring, in vain, the newspapers and cable news for international stories. Readjusting to driving on the left side of the car and the right side of the road. Occasional thirty seconds of tears for friends, equator heat, forsaken cat. Overwhelmed by unemployment, reluctance to be here, challenges of adjusting.

Some thoughts, questions, quandaries –

1. What happened to all the old cars? It is as if every single car on the road these days is shiny, new and huge. Where are all the crumbling Volvos, the dented Trans Ams, the rusting and boxy Cadillacs? Are we dumping them in Springfield Lake? And on a related note, please don’t put bumper stickers on your car reading ‘it’s your planet too bonehead’ when you’re driving a gas inhaling SUV. It is in extremely poor taste.

2. A dozen eggs for two dollars? Milk for a buck fifty? Really? Must be to subsidize the cost of all those hormones they’re pumping into those poor fuckers.

3. Am unfortunately beholden to my body clock, which awakes me at the ungodly (or so it would seem) hour of five. I throw on a pair of flip flops and take a quiet walk around town and I’m struck by a couple of things: One, no walks anywhere (even later on in the morning) and two, people don’t awaken automatically when the sun comes up.

4. Life may seem full of options, but, really, it seems there is even less to do. And what little there is to do involves spending a wad of money. Am ready to start brewing dandelion wine or something equally disgusting in the bathtub to underwrite my liquor costs and occupy my empty hours.

5. Searching for work is so cumbersome, challenging. You can’t just walk into someone’s office, make arrangements for a quick whiskey and informally discuss future employment. All this red tape, convoluted processes of recruiters, human resources, job reference numbers, qualification tests.

Sorry, just need to whinge about all the stuff that’s crowding my brain. Just some minor complaints as life starts to take its course and return to what’s “normal”.

hell in heathrow

In all the hustle and bustle of leaving Kenya – last minute holidays and their delays; farewell drinks all around the city with friends from various social circles; welcome parties for all of my new and improved colleagues; packing up and doling out and ferrying my belongings all over Nairobi – I forgot one thing: how difficult it is to return to the west after you’ve been living in the developing world.

Sure, there were things that I lacked – access to movies; access to music; access to cheap communication and hi-speed internet – but it’s nothing compared to the excess of everything around me. Hermes, Gucci, Harrod’s, brand names I’ve never even heard of, a Chanel shop selling only sunglasses and perfume! And this alone in the London airport, where I daren’t even buy coffee as it seems ridiculous and incredible to me to spend five bucks on a cup of joe.

I know, they’re the same complaints I had last time around. But I totally forgot, or perhaps even just shrugged it off because I’ve already gone through this before and thought I would adjust more easily this time around. Wrong, apparently. And I haven’t even begun to detail the vapid conversations I’ve had a chance to overhear in this: my first fifteen minutes back to “civilisation.” (i can hear you moaning, dickles, but you get used to using brit-spelling when your job requires it... and frankly, it makes the 'z' look really tacky).

It sounds premature to say it, but as soon as I arrived here, I knew I’d made a dreadful mistake. Obviously a professionally and financially necessary one, but my heart really isn’t in this. I want my cat, my less-than-perfect boyfriend, avocado and flame trees in my backyard, maasai shepherds driving cattle down my murram road, red dust and bus fumes clogging my nostrils and weekend afternoons in the sunshine sipping Tusker beer.