The London Pauper

Where Do We Go From Here?

2011-12-02T12:20:00.001-08:00

I have heard it said that 30 is the new 20 and while theprospect of another decade of youthful frivolity is somewhat thrilling, I amless-than exuberant about the thought of 10 more years of professionaluncertainty. They say that you should spend the time after college figuring outwhat interests you – after all, trial and error is a legitimate means ofunveiling your true calling in life. However, there comes a point when we must‘grow up’ and stick with something for more than a few years. The recent decisionI made to leave my position as a project manager with a large internationaldevelopment consulting company was based on the realization that I was headingstraight for 30 in a position where I did not see myself growingprofessionally, carrying out work that did not thrill me or leave me with asense of accomplishment at the end of the day. Still, while I certainly learneda great deal about what I do not wish to do with my life, I remain just asconfused as to what I do wish to do in my next position.

Browsing career list serves can be like opening a 10-pagemenu at a late-night diner. There are so many possibilities that we are spoiledfor choice and simply do not know where to begin. Of course the logic ofreturns would suggest that one should apply to every possible job for whichthey are even remotely qualified, hoping to receive a few requests tointerview, and then landing a job. This is the logic of our parents’ generation– and luckily for me I have two parents who understand the need to find aposition that truly suits my personal and professional aspirations – lest Ifind myself right back in the same place two years hence. Thus, I am currentlyenjoying the luxury of choice, seeking a position that I feel I can grow withand commit to for the long-term.

Still, I am terrified. I left graduate school doe-eyed andnaïve, imagining that this first job was exactly what I wanted to do with mylife. There was international travel, implementation of development programsaround the world – and yet, I was not happy. So, recognizing that I am still arelatively entry-level professional, what exactly should I be looking for in mynext job?

The first question I have asked myself is where do I want tobe physically? I am sublimely happy in Washington, and yet this is basicallywhere I grew up. The value of international experience in my field aside, Iworry that I will regret not having left for more than a year to live overseas.There is also New York, shouldn’t everyone live in Manhattan in their 20s for atleast a couple of years? What about Seattle or San Francisco? Am I pushingmyself to make a change because I think I should, or because it’s what I reallywant to do at this point in my life? As a gay man I have to consider theadditional question of whether I am ready to move overseas to a country wherethe likelihood is I will have to put my romantic life on hold. I might not havea biological clock ticking away, but am I ready to forego love for my careerfor the foreseeable future?

Next I need to really think about what I want to be doing in10 years. Is international development my true calling? I still believe in thevalue of foreign assistance, now I simply need to figure out what technicalfield interests me and how exactly I can best contribute. Still, there are somany other outlets for such work, there are policy positions, there ishumanitarian relief work – do I want to be an implementer or a policymaker?

What about regions and focus? I am a Middle East fanatic andeach trip I’ve taken to other parts of the world has simultaneously excited meand reinforced my infatuation with the Arab world. Should I take the plunge andaccept a position in India? What about East Africa? I speak Spanish, why notgive Latin America a try?

Perhaps this is jut Washington, but I find that those of uswho are driven to succeed are often compelled as much by the need forvalidation as by our own love of what we do. What if I wanted to sell realestate or open a bar – what’s wrong with that? Shouldn’t we admire people whoare willing to follow their dreams, wherever those dreams may take them? Still,I look back at the time I have invested in my studies and the feeling I getwhen talking politics and discussing the resolution of the world’s great illsand I wonder if I could find fulfillment in another profession.

So I put this question to all of you…what should I do? Howshould I approach this job search? Should I take the plunge and do somethingcompletely unexpected, or should I stay with what I know in the place where Iam comfortable? I’m all ears – or eyes, as it were.

Ignoring the Long Arc of History

2011-03-08T00:32:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it's because I'm sitting here in Ramallah and am therefore more attuned to Washington's position vis-a-vis the Middle East over the past several months, but when in the hell did President Obama's foreign policy approach backslide into 'Bush 2.0'? For the life of me, I cannot understand why Mr. Obama cannot find his backbone and stand up for the causes he so eloquently defended in his election campaign. The Republican field of contenders for 2012 is weak and don't be mistaken by the apparent consensus amongst the right over budget cuts, the recent Congressional victories for the GOP left the party quite internally divided on many other issues. For all his faults and simple-mindedness, I have no doubt that President Bush would have taken a more quixotically forceful stance in support of the democratic wave sweeping the region. On every front, it seems, we have an Administration that is afraid to stand up to bullies around the world and flex America's once-respected moral muscles.

There are three specific blunders in recent months that I would point to as evidence of this Administration's failure to grasp the significance of this moment in history. We stand on the cusp of Berlin 1989 and yet we risk finding outselves in Prague 1968. I understand that there are significant and complex considerations that must be made in calculating our foreign policy. Each move we make, every word we utter, has the potential to be misconstrued or used against us. Yet we consistently fail to take a long-term view of history. Mr. Obama gave a passionate speach about freedom and democracy taking hold in Egypt, but this was after it was relatively assured that Hosni Mubarak was finished. Now, we see blood drenching the streets of Tripoli, large crowds amassing in Bahrain and Yemen and we hear barely a whisper out of Washington, while they have no qualms with calling for full blown revolution in Iran. If they think that anyone is fooled by this hedging of bets against enemies while avoiding confrontation with those in neutral or friendly positions, they are fools themselves. America faces a rising China, a resurgent Russia, and newly-empowered regional heavy-hitters such as Turkey and Brazil. Bogged down in two unending wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, it is clear that our military might is waning. It is time that our country accept a multipolar balance of power and play to our comparative advantage as the voice of liberty, freedom and democracy. We were once a beacon of light, a safe haven for the world's dispossessed - this is a mantle that China will not soon claim. Now, we are in a position to act on our rhetoric in a region where we have long claimed to be fighting for human rights and progress, yet our actions (or lack thereof) are speaking far louder than those seemingly-hollow words.

Take, for instance, issue number two: Israel and Palestine. There has not been a meaningful effort to reinitiate the peace process since Obama took office. The failure of this administration to grasp not only the central importance of this conflict, but also the appeal that Mr. Obama initially enjoyed as a more even-handed arbitrator is truly disheartening. Despite their unwillingness to cooperate, Israel is still very much beholden to the United States for support. This is a tiny state that receives billions of dollars a year in military support and I would argue that their blatant disrespect of American entreaties to cease settlement construction and make meaningful overtures for peace are a direct result of our inability to hold them accountable. Despite their embarassing this admionistration at every turn, treating the United States like a second-rate power, we continue to pour money into their already bulging coffers and then further risk our international legitimacy by vetoing a resolution that even Germany and China supported! The United States needs to take a more proactive approach to resolving this conflict or we will be left behind in the dust. The Palestinians will hold elections this year and it is entirely possible that they will unilaterally declare statehood - where will we stand when that day comes?

Our influence in the world is waning and while to a certain extent this is beyond our control, we are consistently failing to capitalize on numerous opportunities to reassert our relevance and remind the world why we were able to draw the best and brightest for the better part of the last century.

Finally, we have Guantanamo Bay. Perhaps this was the straw that broke the camel's back, as it were. I cannot think of a more blatant example of this Administrations failure to live up to its promises. Not only have we not closed the base, we are now resuming military trials. George W. Bush would be proud. Mr. President, I really don't know what to say. Perhaps my disbelief is supported by my ongoing faith in your ability to comprehend the critical nature of these events. You are a brilliant man who has accomplished so much domestically - why can't your foreign policy measure up? Forget AIPAC, forget the religious right and the neocons - they will always find a reason to protest - instead, I urge you, I implore you: take that first, precarious step out onto that long arc of history and remind the world of this country and what it can stand for.

Two Days, Three Different Worlds

2011-03-06T04:09:00.000-08:00

This has been quite an odd weekend, which began with the book launch I described in my last posting, followed by a party at Sparkles, the hotel bar/club. We chose to go to Sparkles because there was a wedding convention of some sort at the hotel which included a fashion show with real, live Italian models! Nevermind that I could not get the waiters at breakfast to pay me the slightest heed (service is something we are working on here), all of Ramallah was coming out to see these strange creatures in the flesh. So, we danced the night away and when we were finished, I hopped on the elevator and went to my room - if only it were always so simple to get home after a late night out...

On Friday I enjoyed a quiet breakfast by myself and then met up with Brenna for a drive to the coast. The weather was too nice to spend the day inside and so we returned to Herzeliya, north of Tel Aviv, and sat on the beach for the afternoon. As the sun began to set and the temperature cooled, we headed farther north still to Caesaria where there are some nice Roman ruins and a fabulous seafood restaurant called Helena. The meal was terrific - though I could have done without the ferile cats and rambunxious children. What is it about white people letting their kids run amok with no regard for those around them?

But I digress...On Saturday I joined Brenna for breakfast at Zamn and helped her select an apartment for her vacation to Barcelona next month. We then picked up Khalef and Rebecca, two other colleagues who live in Ramallah, and drove an hour north from Judea to Samaria and the West Bank's other major population center, Nablus. Decisions to make excursions such as these are generally last minute and depend upon the security updates on any given day. Traveling with Khalaf, who works frequently in Nablus, we were fortunate enough to have a guide with a cursory familiarity with the city. We started with a trip to Jacob's Well, the spot where the 'good Samaritan' apparently gave Jesus water and he revealed to her that he was the Messiah. The well itself is some 150 meters deep and when water is poured from it's mouth there is a solid 10 - 15 second delay before you hear it reach the base. The church that sits atop the well is controlled by the Greek Orthodox Church and the proprietor spoke only Greek and German, so we had to get by with Rebecca's modest German-speaking abilities. The basilica itself is situated on the edge of the Balata refugee camp, but within its walls feels like an oasis that could easily be found on the quiet hills of a sleepy Greek island.

From there we entered the city proper and stopped for 'fakhfahina' a local speciality fruit smoothy filled with chunks of pineapple, cherries and bananas, topped with honey, pistachios and ishta, a thick cream that is the essentially the fat that is removed from skimmed milk (delicious). Next we parked the car (with some difficulty - and kudos to Brenna for doing all this driving) and wandered through the market. Nablus is famous for two things: soap manufacturing and kunefah. It is also a terrific city for street food all around and Palestine has some terrific offerings in this department. Clearly we were starting with the kunefah, a sweet pastry filled with goat cheese, topped with semolina and doused in honey. This was the most amazing kunefah I have ever tasted - and our servings were the first from a fresh batch. Honestly, there are no words to describe the soft, creamy goodness of the cheese complimented by the sweet honey and slight crunch of semolina around the crisped edges. Begrudgingly, we moved on and purchased a few additional odds and ends including fresh zatar (an herbal mix of a variety of dried spices that one can use in any number of preparations but which is most famously served with labnah, a yoghurt-like spread). I also picked up some kifeyahs for my housemates (Palestinian headscraves) and had an interesting negotiation with the vendor who asked me how I got to be so lovely (Khalaf informs me that Nablus has a somewhat well-known gay community, very awkward nonetheless).

Finally, after two failures, we managed to find the third soap factory (of the 40 that once existed in the city these are the final three to remain open) and received a tutorial on the hundreds year old tradition. The factory itself was over 800 years old and the family that ran it had been in the business for over 200 years. Apparently, there was an understanding that before any family member was permitted to strike out on their own they would first have to master the art of soap-making. With new preferences for scented soaps, however, and the difficulty of accessing external markets, this is a dying art. I of course did my part and bought a few bars as well as some liquid soap. One day when Palestine is liberated, there is going to be a great need for tourism development throughout the territories as a major revenue source.

We ended the evening with dinner in a high-end restaurant on the edge of town. The meal was recommended by a friend of Khalef's and it was quite good, but nothing worthy of a prolonged description. Next weekend, my last in the Holy Land for this trip, we are planning a two day excursion to the Golan Heights. Sadly, due to security concerns, our trip to Hebron was put on hold for a future visit. Alas, the precariousness of the security situation is merely the reality of touring Israel and Palestine.

Monday I will spend the evening in Jerusalem and Wednesday I will meet with one of my counterparts on my other project to tour the checkpoints in the northern West Bank where we are working. I should have some interesting updates mid-week, though I will have to check and see how much I am allowed to say about the latter visits...stay tuned!

Examining the Political Roots of Conflict

2011-03-06T03:41:00.000-08:00

I chose to start my weekend on a more somber note, with a book launch for An Israeli in Palestine, the new work of non-fiction by Jeff Halper. A Minnesotan Jew by birth, Jeff made aliyyah (emigration to Israel) some 40 years ago and has been a citizen ever since. Today, Jeff heads the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions and is an outspoken critic of his country's occupation of the Palestinian Territories. What I find to be so compelling about Jeff's perspective is that despite his criticisms of Israel, he very much identifies as an Israeli. He described with great passion the need he felt to embrace his secular Jewish identity as a youth in 1960s "when every group was looking to return to their roots". Marching in Selma, Alabama, Jeff explained that he chose to don a kepah, not because he identified as a dogmatic member of the Jewish faith, but rather because he felt the need to express his membership in a minority group that had suffered at the hands of an oppressor. Eventually, however, this constant, active self-identification as a Jew became exhausting. Emigration to Israel meant living that reality, claiming it outright. Quite simply, to become an Israeli allowed him to live life as a Jew, as a simple fact, no explanation needed.

This is a man whose identity with that State is very much connected to his faith from a cultural, secular perspective and, therefore, to the history of the Jewish people (as is the identity of any Israeli who has consciously chosen to make aliyyah for one reason or another). Ever cognizant of past atrocities against the Jewish people, it is thus that he is so deeply troubled by the treatment of the Palestinian people at the hands of occupying Israeli forces. How is it that a people who faced two thousand years of Disapora can so easily force the same upon others? The great unspoken truth behind occupation may be found in the words of Israel's own founding fathers. Ze’ev Jabotinsky, leader of the more militant wing of political Zionism, said in his famous essay ‘The Iron Wall’ that, “every indigenous people will resist alien settlers as long as they see any hope of ridding themselves of the danger of foreign settlement. This is how the Arabs will behave and go on behaving so long as they possess a gleam of hope that they can prevent 'Palestine' from becoming the Land of Israel. The sole way to an agreement, then, is through the iron wall, that is to say, the establishment in Palestine of a force that will in no way be influenced by Arab pressure…A voluntary agreement is unattainable…We must either suspend our settlement efforts or continue them without paying attention to the mood of the natives. Settlement can thus develop under the protection of a force that is not dependent on the local population, behind an iron wall which they will be powerless to break down”. Thus occupation and utter defeat is part and parcel of the success of the Zionist enterprise and has been since its inception.

Situating the founding of Israel within a broader political narrative we find the genesis of the Zionist movement dating back to the Russian pogroms, the Dreyfus affair in France and culminating in the Holocaust. Simply stated, the message emanating from Europe (home to the majority of the world’s Jews at that time) was that the Jewish people were outsiders, traitors and pariahs, and thus it followed quite logically that they could not be secure unless they had a state of their own. The contours of that state, argues Jeff, are similarly borne of the nationalist tradition unique to Eastern Europe. Whereas Western European and American nationalism was a civil nationalism that allowed membership to all who would embrace the basic tenets of citizenship, the Slavic and Teutonic conceptions of national self determination were exclusive, in-group out-group formulations. Rights were to be enjoyed by members of the linguistic and ethnic members of the majority, indigenous population. It was ideas such as these that led to the Holocaust and that resulted in the Balkan wars of the 1990s. While the rationale behind the founding of such a Jewish state was absolutely understandable within the temporal context, it was a nationalism borne of that same exclusivity as espoused by its earliest champions.

Therefore, the understanding of Zionism as inherently racist is not so suggest an active racism, but rather to understand members of the non-Jewish community as outsiders and thus unwelcome. It is Mr. Halper’s proposal that Zionism's conception was therefore not colonial, it was borne of a need for self-determination and security, however, the understanding of how to achieve those ends means that it immediately took on the contours of a colonial enterprise (as is evident in Jabotinsky’s essay).

To call this Zionist enterprise colonialism, however, is too simple because it goes beyond colonialism. When the French conquered North Africa and the Spanish seized South America, they left a space for the indigenous peoples. They were treated horrifically, yes, but there was never an expectation that they be removed outright from the land. In Israel however, we see home demolitions, the erection of walls, the 'Judiazation' of the entire territory as a willful attempt to erase any vestigial sign of the Palestinians who previously occupied that space. From the renaming of nearly 300 new Israeli villages that sit atop their demolished Arab forbearers to the more innocuous claiming of regional cuisines such as couscous and falafel, Israel appears to be attempting to completely erase any trace of the Arab progenitors of this territory because, in the historical Zionist narrative, their very existence is a direct challenge to the legitimacy of Jewish claims to the land. Of course you cannot erase an entire people, that would require genocide, or at least ethnic cleansing, and so Israel finds itself in the untenable situation of occupier, unable to reconcile the political inertia of the Zionist enterprise, with its own historical aversion to notions of racial or religious purity.

The discussion then moved on to examine how we might ‘decolonize’ Zionism, if that is even possible. It was a lively discussion with heated debate, yet it was civil and respectful. It was the first time that I really had an opportunity to discuss this issue while sitting in the disputed territory, surrounded by Israeli and Palestinian ‘stakeholders’ who were so directly impacted by these events. There is indeed much more to be said, and I highly encourage you all to read Halper’s works as they provide a fascinating look at the dynamics of conflict and the future of Arab-Israeli relations. This is an entry that I believe ought to stand independently, so I’ll update you all as to more banal events in a separate posting!

Meet me at the Corner of Catstrophe and Disaster

2011-02-28T12:21:00.001-08:00

Ramallah is a city dedicated to the never-ending struggle of an oppressed people - and the street names reflect the simultaneous hope so central to that struggle and the cynicism of so many unfulfilled dreams. What amazes me about the Arab world, and Palestine in particular, is that despite decades of occupation, oppression and general malaise, there is no place on earth that I have found to be as warm, friendly and hospitable as the Middle East. From our staff, who immediately welcome us into their homes for elaborate dinners, to taxi drivers, so eager to engage in conversation and ecstatic at the opportunity to help anyone and everyone improve their Arabic, no matter how basic.

This evening, my colleague Katie and I went to Stars & Bucks, a local coffee shop in Manara Square, the central district here in Ramallah. We order narguila (shisha, to those Egypto-phyles amongst you) and dinner and engaged in conversation (and sadly, a bit of work). Yet my night was made not by the delicious 'adulterous meat' (steal haven't figured out how exactly this is a translation of 'lasagna') or the sweet smell of my water pipe, but rather by the fact that in 15 minutes time I was able to befriend the entire staff in my broken Arabic. Yes, Mido and Mohammad were eager to engage in conversation, help us with our Arabic, and share recommendations for my upcoming trip to Nablus. By the end of the night there were hugs, high fives, and free mugs, scarves and gifts galore from our new friends. In return, they merely asked that we come back to visit them again soon and enjoy our time in Palestine.

When, I ask you, was the last time that you spent two hours in a coffee shop and came out with a bevy of new comrades? I merely cite this as an example because it stands in marked contrast to nearly everywhere else I've ever been. I concede that speaking the language is quite helpful, but I assure you that neither French nor Spanish has ever gotten me so far. In Vietnam people were polite, but distant. In Colombia we were made to feel at home, but I still didn't leave with the sense that I could return and be instantly recognized and welcomed back. In Cairo, however, I returned to one of my favorite coffee shops three years later and was instantly recognized by the staff and, here in Ramallah, I am all but certain that on my next trip I can pay a visit to Stars & Bucks and it will be as if I had never left.

I don't have any grand message to convey here. I simply left tonight feeling elated, having confirmed that, despite the challenges inherent in touring this part of the world, there is a reason why I continue to return. This is the heart of the world and while we are learning the true power of hope and perserverance from the masses on the streets of Tunis, Cairo and Tripoli, the simpler and persistent message emanating from this complex and wonderful region is quite simply 'you are welcome'. I encourage each of you to accept the invitation and pay a visit, you will never regret it.

Let's just say Jay Z never wrote a song about it...

2011-02-27T04:35:00.000-08:00

As a young Hebrew School student I was led to believe that Tel Aviv was a sparkling metropolis – literally the ‘New York of the Middle East’. My last visit included only a very brief stop in the Jaffa market followed by a night of dancing at a random discotheque and thus I had no real sense of my surroundings. This time around I spent two nights and two full days wandering the city. First off, let me just say that with a population of fewer than 400,000 people, this is no New York. Sure, there are plenty of tall buildings, but one should not mistake such structures as an replacement for, or even an indication of, culture or urbane sophistication. If anything, Tel Aviv is somewhat akin to a more dingy, dilapidated South Beach. Of course it has its charms, like any city - for instance, there are some nice cafes and bars. Yet in terms of nightlife, shopping, cultural offerings and general atmosphere, it’s a far, far cry from New York.

Of course, it is always nice to have a change of scenery and by Thursday afternoon, I was itching to get out of Ramallah for a few days. Following a call with Washington at around 4:30, we left town, following the back roads to avoid the traffic at the Qalandiya crossing. While Brenna, Katie and Caitlin chose the larger Intercon for their stay, I went with the small, independently-run Savoy (no, it’s not that Savoy). It’s a small, boutique operation that actually was rather reminiscent of something you might find in South Beach. Everything was black and white, very sleek and modern, and every guest was European. In fact, when I checked in I noticed two Germans paroosing their guidebook and I thought to myself that if Germans can flock to Israel a mere 60 years after the Holocaust, then perhaps there is still hope for a peaceful outcome to the Arab-Israeli conflict after all.

Anyhow, it was a pleasure to see the Mediterranean, enjoy some fresh seafood and drink a smart cocktail (or three). Dinner was at a place called Manta Ray, which Katie and Brenna had frequented several times before. The meal was quite good, though (also reminiscent of South Beach) the service left something to be desired. Following our meal we walked to Jaffa, the old Arab city on the southern border of Tel Aviv. It’s strange, Jaffa has become a mere extension of Tel Aviv, and yet people treat it as though it were a world apart. I will say that there is a marked contrast between the two, from Tel Aviv’s oddly stout and non-descript Bauhaus architecture, punctuated by glass and steel towers, to Jaffa’s old limestone archways and narrow, winding streets. We managed to find a terrific spot called The Container, right near the docks, and proceeded to cozy up to the bar and order a round of drinks. The bartenders were terrific and I immediately took to the laid-back, Mediterranean attitude that makes Tel Aviv a more easygoing, far less tense destination than the more politically-charged Jerusalem. Well, one drink turned into 4, along with shots and when the bartender realized I had a penchant for whiskey, he started pouring me free ‘tastes’. Before I knew it, I was very pleasantly buzzed and marching straight on towards drunk.

At the bartender’s recommendation (he had treated us so well, after all) we grabbed a cab to ‘G-Spot’, where we were told there was a ‘fetish party’ that was ‘not for everyone’. Our decision to check out said ‘fetish party’ was only clinched after learning that the fetish in question was actually a Michael Jackson-themed night. Perhaps by fetish they meant ‘theme’...we’ll chalk this one up to a loss in translation. Well, it might as well have been a leather night for overweight midgets, because I have not seen such a bizarre spectacle since I came bursting out of the closet a decade ago. Everyone was dressed like Jacko: gloves, fedoras, oddly tight pants and black patent-leather shoes, and a large group of them stood facing a projection screen which showed various music videos as they tried to mimic the dance moves, completely entranced by the visuals. Really, it was just plain weird and slightly uncomfortable. Still, we couldn’t look away – you know, like a train wreck. Sadly, this was the end of our evening out as it sort of sapped everyone’s desire and energy to seek out an alternate venue and pay yet another cover. C’est la vie, we wined, dined and were most certainly entertained!

On Friday I ate breakfast at the hotel and prior to attending my debrief at USAID. Because USAID employs only Palestinian local staff (it is USAID/West Bank and Gaza, after all) the employees actually wake up at 5:30 every morning to be bused from East Jerusalem and Ramallah to Tel Aviv and then depart again at 3 or 4 in the afternoon to go home because they are not permitted to reside on Israeli soil. But I digress…the meeting itself went well enough, but as the sun broke through the morning clouds, I was itching to change out of my suit and enjoy my weekend. Finally I escaped and did some shopping on Sheinken Street (advertised as the place to ‘see and be seen’, it was rather full of random, mediocre boutiques and knick-knack shops). I then met Brenna for lunch at Banana Bar on the beach and while the food was downright bad, it was a great chance to chat and enjoy the water a bit, despite the substantial wind that has been plaguing us all week. Katie then joined us (Caitlin left that morning) and the rest of the day was spent shopping and sipping coffee, followed by dinner at Yo’Ezer, a beautiful, high-end steakhouse in Jaffa located in a very atmospheric cellar with arched stone ceilings and candlelit alcoves. The food, sadly, was only okay, though the bill was indeed exceptional, and would you believe they actually hand-wrote ‘Service is NOT included’ at the bottom? (I had to respond, penning ‘Thanks for clarifying!’ just beneath it). We capped the evening with a series of disappointing bars wondering where the hell the nightlife in Tel Aviv was supposed to be?

Our final day I had a nice breakfast (note, Isareli’s make a horrible bagel, do not be deceived into ordering one just because everyone is Jewish) and read my book outside before meeting Brenna and Katie to head to Hertzeliya, where there was nothing to really do or see except for a medieval crusader fortress overlooking the water. We did have a terrific cappuccino before returning for a late lunch with one of the other long-term expats, Linda, at a really lovely place called La La Land Café, also on the beach. This place had excellent food and with the relaxed atmosphere and sunset vista, we could indeed have been in La La Land. A short stroll along the boardwalk then we headed back to meet our driver to return to Ramallah. While I enjoyed my time in Tel Aviv and was not necessarily looking forward to going back to work on Sunday, I was absolutely ready to return to Palestine.

As we sped along the highway, back towards Jerusalem, we passed hulking Israeli settlements, gleaming lights and wide boulevards. Suddenly, turning to the right off the main road, we crossed a set of road spikes and everything went dark. The street lights were black, a tall barbed-wire fence loomed overhead and the narrow road curved off into obscurity. We were back in the West Bank. The only things I could make out now were those the brightly-lit settler-only road and the vague silhouettes of the rolling hills of Judea. And yet, despite this rather foreboding return to Palestine, I welcomed the change of scenery. For the first time in two days I enjoyed the quiet serenity of the hills, exposed in their natural, rocky beauty. I smiled as we wound our way through the unassuming villages and I listened intently to the haunting evening call to prayer as it rolled out across the landscape. Perhaps most poignantly, as I looked up through the window, for the first time I noticed the brilliant sparkle of the cloudless night sky.

Return of the Not-So Prodigal Son

2011-02-22T22:47:00.000-08:00

I realized that rather than sending a mass email, I would be better served by returning to my old grad school blog so that you all may access it at your leisure. While the title is rather inappropriate given my current circumstances, I will remind you that its genesis was along the foggy banks of the Thames in what seems like an entirely different period of my life. As luck would have it, I have just booked a return visit to London for Memorial Day, so I suppose that all things come full circle in due time (though thankfully I no-longer count myself among the paupers). I should also note that the tone of my entries is often colored by my current reading and as I have just finished the wonderfully sardonic Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteingart, I decided last night to re-read my all-time favorite (and philosophical heavyweight), Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being. That is to say, please forgive me if I wander off into rather arcane musings on the meaning of life.

But I digress...I find myself sitting at my desk in Ramallah working on the 'Palestinian Justice Enhancement Program', funded by the American taxpayers' dollars, in the wake of a UN Security Council Resolution in which the United States was the only country out of a diverse 14 member plebiscite to veto a resolution condemning as illegal, Israel's ongoing construction of settlements in the West Bank. How, I ask you, does my project gain any traction or enjoy even a modicum of legitimacy when the government that funds it not only declines from acknowledging the international rule of law, but outright overrides it with it's first veto since the Obama Admininstration came to power? Now I know that we have a special relationship with Israel, but as the French so rightfully reminded us in the prelude to the invasion of Iraq, it is a good friend who tells you when you're in the wrong, rather than permit you to enmesh yourself in an increasignly untenable political and social quagmire.

Of course I could go on a political tirade as it relates to Israel and Palestine for pages on-end. I decided instead to bring you a more abbreviated, personal story. This morning I met our driver Yousef at 8 AM to go from the hotel to the office. My colleagues opted to enjoy the nice weather and walk, while I thought this would be a good opportunity to get to know Yousef a bit better. As it turns out, Yousef is not only a Jerusalem ID holder (a necessity for any driver on a USAID project as it is a prerequisite for entering Israeli territory, where USAID is based), he is actually an Arab-Israeli citizen. He is an Arab-Israeli citizen with a degree in avionics and mechanical engineering who is now pursuing another degree in finance. Why is he merely a driver? Why is he pursuing another degree? Well, because he finds himself in the unique situation of being unable to work at the airport in his own country because, despite his citizenship, he is not trusted to enter Ben Gurion for work. Instead, the Israeli government has presented him with the rather challenging ultimatum of joining the army so that he may be considered for employment at the airport (how the two are related, I'm not quite sure) with the knowledge that he would be completely ostracized, and his life potentially threatened by his compatriots in Palestine, who view the Israeli army as the embodiment of their oppression. I'm not looking for answers or commentary, I'm merely submitting this rather perplexing conundrum for your consideration.

On a brighter note (for me at least) I will be heading to Tel Aviv on Friday morning for our award debrief with USAID. Basically this is where AID explains the terms of the contract and special requirements or expectations including reporting and special mission orders governinig programs in the West Bank. Afterwards, I plan to enjoy a nice night's stay in the city to unwind before heading back to Ramallah via Jerusalem on Saturday afternoon for another week of work.

I will say that thankfully things are progressing at a more rapid clip now. We are poised to sign our lease for new office space (I am learning quite a bit about renters rights under the PA), we are procuring additional vehicles, and we have top candidates coming in for final interviews to fill remaining team lead posts. Perhaps even more importantly, I discovered a cafe that makes the best espresso I've ever had in the Middle East - and they will deliver to our office. Oh happy day!

Stay tuned, more to come after Tel Aviv!

A New Century

2008-07-29T14:46:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me well are aware of a certain contradiction that defines my relationship with my country. Part of me is embarrassed by the ignorance demonstrated by so many Americans; ignorance to the world beyond our shores, ignorance to the values upon which our union was formed and the ignorance to elect George W. Bush to two terms in office. The other part of me is obsessed with American politics, and while I see many wrongs in our past, I still see great promise in our future. We rebuilt Europe and Japan, we were among the first to support the independence of Kosovo, and we pioneered the idea of democracy, building the most prosperous nation on Earth. For decades we have inspired those who seek a better life and have become richer for it. "Indeed, every language is spoken in our country; every culture has left its imprint on ours; every point of view is expressed in our public squares." These are not my words, they are those of Barack Obama, and despite eight long years of shame, wrongdoing and deceit, I was able to watch Obama's Berlin speech with pride and hope for the future. On my seventeenth birthday, September 12, 2001, I had never been more proud to be an American, and yet in the years that followed, I have never felt such shame. On July 24 of this year, I was once again reminded of the potential that my country possesses as tears rolled from my eyes at the sight of 200,000 European citizens waving American flags in the streets of Berlin.

John McCain criticized Obama for making such a speech in a foreign country before even winning the office of President; yet as an American living abroad I felt that for the first time a candidate was speaking directly to me. For the first time a candidate was addressing critical issues in front of my fellow ex-patriots. Issues such as globalization, free trade and the transatlantic alliance discussed before a crowd of global citizens as visibly moved by this American's words as I was. Lest we forget that America's ex-patriots are our cultural ambassadors to the rest of the world. They pay taxes to the United States yet do not benefit from its schools or roads. They are not only soldiers on tour in Iraq and Korea, they are aid workers, doctors and diplomats. They are busniessmen and women, the very people who ensure that the global networks that have allowed America to prosper remain open and unobstructed. They are university students, sharing their knowledge, experience and passions with their peers, not only teaching others the virtues of our ideals, but bringing new ideas and understanding back to our shores.

Yes, while I might disagree with Obama's stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and while I might strongly object to his ultimate inability to face corporate interests and vote against retroactive immunity for the telecommunications companies, the Berlin speech reminded me that this election is far bigger than any single issue. It is a chance to show that crowd in Germany that we as Americans have not strayed so far from our moral compass. It is an opportunity to remind the planet that America understands its responsibility and commitment to freedom and plurality as more than mere words. Electing Barack Obama is but a first step, and we must not rest on our laurels. We must demand answers for failures to keep promises and explanations for inconsistent policy decisions. We must hold our leaders to account and not merely assume that they have our best interests at heart. That said, the necessary first step to changing course is electing the leader with the greatest chance of affecting positive change, and I believe that leader is Barack Obama.

We are all citizens of the world and any America who says otherwise fundamentally misunderstands both history and our role in it. Without European progressiveness, we are without a benchmark for morality. Without Middle Eastern hospitality, we would lose our compassion. Without Asian innovation and entrepreneurship we would never have achieved greatness. Without Latin American passion, we would be without a soul, and without African perseverance, we might have stopped struggling for what is right long ago. We are citizens of the globe because those within our borders represent the world beyond our shores.

For the first time in seven years I walked through the streets of a foreign country with my head held high. I have hope for change, hope for a better future, hope that we can right the wrongs of our past before it is too late. In Barack Obama I see not merely a president, but the charismatic leader we so desperately require to unite our allies and breathe new hope into America's true mission of seeing the dream of authentic freedom and individual liberty spread to the far corners of our planet. I'm voting for Barack Obama in November, are you?

Siwa!

2008-07-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

As you now know by my last posting, I spent the past four days in the spectacular Siwa Oasis in Egypt’s western desert. From Cairo there are only two ways to reach Siwa. The first follows a slightly shorter route but involves traversing the remote desert for nearly six hours, often leaving single vehicles vulnerable to highway banditry. The second path, and our chosen route, takes closer to eight hours and follows the Alex Desert Road north to the coast and then traverses the North Coast to Matrouh before a 300 kilometer shot south to Siwa. I for one believe that one cannot truly appreciate the splendor of the oasis until they have driven 300 kms straight through the unrelenting heat and monotony of the desert that surrounds it.

Our home for the three night trip was the spectacular Taziry ecolodge. The hotel actually opens in October so we were the first and only guests, which means that while there was still construction going on (the entire place is being built by hand from materials from the earth) we received personal service from our home-cooked meals to fresh towels by the spring. All this for a special rate – $85 a night – thanks to Ahmed’s special connections. Our first afternoon we received a personalized tour of the grounds, including the fields where all the hotel’s food was produced. Fatihiy, our host, even plucked fresh cucumbers and melons for us right out of the ground. That night our dinner was surprisingly pedestrian, consisting of fried chicken cutlets and fries, though at least the salad was fresh from the garden. Following our meal, which, like breakfast and lunch was served at our request, Fatihiy met us in town and showed us around the Shali, a 100-year old earthen structure built to fortify the people against invading armies. After that we enjoyed a short stroll and a glass of fresh-squeezed juice at a local shop. Most surprising of all, we were not permitted to pay by either the shopkeeper or Fatihiy, leading us to wonder if we were actually still in Egypt.

Siwa is a uniquely isolated town which has seen thousands of years of history, yet it has maintained its own, distinct heritage. While everyone speaks Arabic, which they begin studying at age 10, their native tongue is of Berber origins. Interestingly, Siwa is probably the only place in the Middle East that actually practices gay marriage (in fact Ahmed was convinced that we saw a gay couple farming their plot of land together later in the trip). Surely many traditional practices have been adapted to Islamic morality and thus homosexuality and drinking have become less visible in the local culture but persist nonetheless.

Our second day we ate an early breakfast of fig jam, honey, bread and vegetables before setting off once again for town. We spent the morning touring the sites, including ‘Death Mountain’ which is an Egyptian burial site from the New Kingdom. Up until about two years ago some of the mummies were actually still inside the chambers, however, they have since been moved to a local museum. Still, the mountain has some spectacular paintings and sweeping views over the palm tree forest (which purportedly contains some 1 million trees). Next we drove to the oracle where Alexander the Great was told he would rule the world. It was truly amazing to stand in the same place as this legendary warrior. We then took a break from the heat at Cleopatra’s Baths where the great beauty used to bathe herself in the cool waters of the desert springs. This was by far the largest spring we saw and must have been some 20 feet deep. It was a deep aqua blue and was full of screaming local children taking advantage of their independence to cool off for the day. Ahmed and I of course remembered our suits (nice skimpy ones of course) and plunged into the water. It was wonderful. Feeling refreshed we made a final stop at the temple of Amon (nothing terribly exciting compared to Egypt’s other ruins) before heading back to the Taziry for lunch and a swim in the hotel’s natural spring. That evening, after a nice nap, we had a delicious dinner of more local cuisine which was absolutely delidious. I won’t go into details, but each subsequent meal was of local Egyptian dishes that were nothing short of gourmet quality. My favorite (other than the kofta of course) was the fatih, which is a baked dish of bread on the bottom, then rice and tomatoes on top with meat. There is something like cinnamon in the bread which is faint but lends a sweet flavor to the rice and bread – delicious. I should also mention that I tasted the best cantaloupe of my entire life and despite the fact that each meal was massive; I managed to consume nearly everything placed in front of me.

Back to the sites, we woke up early the following morning, 4 AM to be exact, to watch the sunrise over the salt lake on which our hotel was situated. It was beautiful, but we opted to head back to bed for another 4 hours afterwards. We then spent the day wandering town, visiting other springs and then chatting for a bit with a local tour guide about a desert safari (no there are no animals, but it should be noted that safari is indeed an Arabic word). We ultimately ended up choosing someone else, as this guy was trying to royally rip us off, but we did learn quite a bit about Siwa, including the fact that it is nominally autonomous from the Egyptian government, permitted to make many local decisions as much of the population is actually of Libyan descent. After dinner at the hotel, we returned to town to take our four-hour desert tour, which was nothing short of exhilarating. We were grouped with three Korean girls who were really sweet and a lot of fun. We started by traversing the dunes that lay just beyond the town. The fields and buildings literally melt into the ‘Great Sand Sea’ as if being slowly consumed by glacially slow-moving waves. Some of the dunes must have been 70 feet tall or more and our driver found it entertaining to hear us scream as he drove to the top, allowing the 4x4 to tip over the edge, sometimes at as much as an 80 degree angle, before racing down the face of the dune.

Our first stop was a spring literally in the middle of the desert. We swam for about 45 minutes while the guide prepared mint tea over a small fire. After a brief nap, which we needed after trying to climb a dune for better views of the mini-oasis, we headed off to the next spring, this one of sulphur. I opted not to swim as the thought of 100 degree water in 110 degree heat just wasn’t appealing. Our penultimate stop was, without a doubt, the most beautiful. After traversing a truly horrifying dune where I swear we nearly rolled the car, we came to a stop in what was once the sea bed of the Sahara desert. Today it is the sun-bleached fossilized remains of coral reefs, sea shells and tiny sea creatures. Surrounded by dunes it was awe-inspiringly untouched by mankind as far as the eye could see. Finally, after a brief stop to cool down the overheated engine (the result of a race with another truck) and yet more tea, we ended our tour atop a dune to watch the setting sun, which was a gorgeous orange color thanks to the sand particles on the horizon.

Our final evening Ahmed and I followed dinner with a swim then sat beneath the desert stars and enjoyed the serenity of our secluded lodge. What was amazing about the Taziry was that it was completely without electricity, so every night like clockwork the staff lit dozens of candles, torches and lamps around the property, providing the only light. Fortunately the desert moon is bright enough to allow the naked eye rather clear vision and the experience is nothing short of spiritual. I pretended that we were back in ancient Egypt, surrounded by hand-made edifices, natural springs and the starry sky.

Our last morning we had a nice breakfast then picked up the Korean girls from our tour to take them back to Matrouh. Ahmed decided to offer them a ride after becoming friendly during the tour. They had told us a harrowing tale of how their bus had broken down on the highway in the middle of the desert between Matrouh and Siwa, how could we let them chance another such voyage? It was a pleasant ride and in Matrouh we all enjoyed a nice lunch by the sea before parting ways – though not before exchanging facebook details of course.

All in all I must recommend this trip to anyone who visits Egypt. They are currently building an airport in Siwa which will facilitate access, though in so doing I fear alter its isolated charm. From the springs to the history to the sand, I have never seen anyplace like this in my life. It is spiritual, beautiful, pacifying and certainly worth a second visit, and probably a third and a fourth…Anyone can go to the beach, and while there are some amazing beaches out there, how many people get to enjoy cool natural springs, palm trees and a sea of sand in the same day, in the virtual middle of nowhere in the Sahara desert? Go to Siwa, go to Siwa go to Siwa.

It seems with each visit Egypt presents yet another awe-inspiring piece of its wealth of beauty and culture. This is absolutely one of the world's greatest travel destinations and I am more than happy to serve as anyone's guide.

(That's me in the most recent photo, courtesy of our new Korean friends!)

Of Car Crashes and Extortion, an Alexandrian Tale

2008-07-21T02:46:00.000-07:00

I have a great deal to cover this week on the blog, namely Ahmed and my trip to Siwa, but first, a quick run down of the last 24 hours. Breaking up the eight-hour drive from Siwa to Cairo, Ahmed and I decided to stop in Alexandria for the night to crash with his friend Deki from AUC. Deki and his two other friends prepared a delicious meal replete with homemade hommos. After gluttonously consuming more than our fair share, Ahmed and I got dressed and headed out into Alex with the others to check out the city’s gay nightlife. Believe it or not, Alexandria hosts Egypt’s only openly gay bar, Sheikh Ali. We arrived at the bar to find it fairly quiet, so we grabbed a table and ordered some beers. The setting was really interesting, there was a clear cowboy-meets-sailor motif and about a dozen openly-gay Egyptian men. There were also some tourists who appeared to have no clue they were patronizing Egypt’s only gay establishment.

After about thirty minutes of idle gossip, things began to get interesting and my most bizarre night in Egypt to date (believe it or not) commenced. All of a sudden I was being challenged to an arm-wrestling contest with a fifty-year old bartender who was apparently impressed with my arms. I was flattered, but in no mood to make a scene. However, with much prodding from my friends, I acquiesced to the challenge. After duelling with both right and left arms neither of us came out a winner, an outcome with which I was perfectly satisfied. Then, a man twice the bartender’s size, the owner as I later discovered, decided that it was his turn to take me on. I was sore and rather drunk and in no mood, but yet, I was once again cajoled into participating. This time I won a decisive victory to cheers from the clientele (of which there are apparently quite a few regulars).

Following my awkward initiation into Alex’s gay social network, I found some fellow foreigners who had actually knowing chosen this bar having heard that it was gay. As it turned out, these two girls, Elizabeth and Ruth (a stunningly beautiful bisexual girl from Portugal who was sorely disappointed to find no women) were in town for a Wikipedia conference. Even better, their boss, and the founder of Wikipedia, was at the bar (I feel it my duty here to state that I have no idea whether this individual is a homosexual, and have no evidence to suggest that this is the case). I approached the guy and asked him to make out a personal note to his most devoted user, my dear Kavitha Bondhada, who is currently trying to control rowdy children in a Teach for America program on the Texas-Mexican border. The note reads, ‘Dear Kavitha, I hope you survive Texas! I hope to see you on Telegu or French Wikipedia! Jimmy Wales.’ How awesome is that?

After an all-around great evening we piled into the car to head home. About 5 minutes from the bar, however, we crashed into another car crossing an intersection. Based on the impact, the accident was probably both our faults, and while Ahmed had the good sense to suggest driving away, the others preffered to pay the guy a small fee and settle it on the spot. The small fee turned into 7,000 L.E. ($1, 400) and 8 hours of hellish argument, harassment and frustration from the time of the crash at 3:30 AM until 11:30 the following morning. No sleep, no food, no toilet. Poor Ahmed had it the worst, spending the first three hours at a police station signing an agreement to pay the money. After what was apparently quite the harrowing experience, we moved the car to the shop of the local mechanic who had conveniently showed up on the scene shortly after impact. We were sceptical, but the car needed to be fixed before it could be driven and the house was a forty-minute trip out of town. After getting baked for about an hour and a half, the mechanic and his cohorts eventually began putting the car together, which took from about 6:30 until 11:30. After it was finally repaired (and best of all the little shit who hit us milled about laughing and chatting up the mechanic the entire time) they tried to up the price for the repair from 150 L.E. to 800 L.E. We had had enough and refused to pay. It was clear that this was all an elaborate setup. The driver, mechanic, cops and mediators had all been working together to get our money. At this point they had an official agreement for the initial 7,000 but we were not giving them the satisfaction of this last little bit. Ultimately Deki and his two friends paid an additional 150 and we got the hell out of there. It was truly a nightmare.

My next posting will pick up with Siwa, our spectacular trip to the desert oasis that preceded this debacle. I must say, despite the mess at the end, Ahmed and I still agreed that Siwa was an amazing week.

Cairo Calling!

2008-07-13T06:30:00.000-07:00

I believe that a status update is in order, especially given that following this week’s upcoming trip to Siwa I’m sure I will have a great deal to share. I haven’t really been up to too terribly much lately, most of my days are spent at a local café or coffee shop researching and writing my dissertation. On that front, I have made some serious progress, however. Having completed my preliminary research and fleshed out my outline with about 20 pages of quotations, I finally began writing. To date I am actually a little over one-third of the way finished with my rough draft. The highlight of recent days, of course, was my interview with Andrew Natsios. A visiting scholar at Georgetown, I used my alumni status to secure an interview with Professor Natsios, who also happens to have been the Administrator of USAID under George W. Bush and is currently serving as America’s chief envoy to Darfur. Professor Natsios was incredibly gracious and gave me his personal cell phone number. We ended up discussing my dissertation over the phone for a solid forty minutes, and while he was not ultimately in agreement with my thesis, his perspective proved incredibly helpful in fine-tuning my argument.

As for my social life, it has been defined by a nice balance between study and play. One of my primary motivations for coming to Cairo was the fact that I only have a handful of friends here, which guaranteed that the prospect of boredom would compel me to work on my dissertation. So far, my reasoning has proven accurate, as I have spent the bulk of my days writing. That said, I have some very good friends here and have really enjoyed catching up with them in the evenings. A few days ago I joined my friend Niv at the Hyatt’s rooftop pool to soak up the sun. Niv was one of my Birthright group leaders and is actually in Cairo working on his Arabic for his proficiency exam back at SAIS. The view from the roof of the hotel is actually spectacular, looking out over Zamalek, Giza and a perfect panorama of the Nile. Sadly, the pool area has gone dry, but I was still able to satiate myself with a nice glass of fresh-squeezed guava juice. I have yet to go anywhere else in the world that has such an ample and inexpensive supply of fantastically fresh-squeezed juiced from guava to strawberry, orange to mango. There is actually a ‘juice man’ near my flat that sells large bottles of freshly squeezed juice (1.5 liters) for about 17 L.E. or just around $3 USD. He is, needless to say, quite the asset.

In addition, I have spent a lot of time with Liam, who, having professed to enjoying my last few postings, I feel, deserves a shout out. Liam and I attended Georgetown together, though he was a few years ahead of me. Since graduating in 2005, Liam has spent the last 3 years living and working in Cairo as a journalist. He is currently doing freelance, writing a number of articles for the Christian Science Monitor. He also recently completed a piece for the Economist Intelligence Unit. Liam is one of the most knowledgeable people I know on anything Egyptian. He speaks the language very well and knows an impressive amount of information based on his various articles. He is currently working on a piece that addresses the current status of farming in Egypt. In this vein he took me to a party in Dokki, located on the west bank of the Nile, to a party being hosted by a relatively new arrival to Cairo, Becky. Becky works in agricultural development and as such the conversation at this intimate gathering revolved primarily around this topic. I must say, I learned a staggering amount about the incredible price of land and property in Egypt. Bad news for investors, the American bubble is headed for the Middle East big time. Mortgages are a relatively new phenomenon here in Egypt, and as such people haven’t quite wrapped their minds around the potential pitfalls to purchasing a $5 million home on the north coast with a sizeable mortgage. Add to this the fact that the farming industry appears to be in serious trouble as heightened competition threatens the country’s market share, and we are heading for a crisis. Somewhat unrelated, though equally interesting, I learned that apparently the Gulfies are snatching up land in Africa wherever they can find it, and, interestingly enough, they have their sights set on the northern regions of the Sudan. Apparently nobody has sent them a copy of the Economist in recent years, but in their perpetual quest to ensure their survival, Qataris, Saudis and Emirates alike are in a scramble for land in one of Africa’s most unstable polities. The way economics, politics and society work in this part of the world seem to be an elusive mystery to the West, either that or we just don’t care, but with China equally interested in Africa (in Becky’s words, ‘they’re taking over the world in case you hadn’t noticed’) its about time we break free of our self-centred little world and join the international community.

Anyway, Becky was a very interesting woman, who shared with us the story of how she has ended up in Cairo, a story that frightened me as much by how intriguing I found it as by how downright dangerous it was to her own wellbeing. Having volunteered for the Peace Corps in Tanzania, Becky’s first job sent her to Charles Taylor’s Liberia. Describing the daily trip she made from a small suburb to Monrovia, passing through 30-odd checkpoints patrolled by armed child soldiers, I was mesmerized. Granted, the romanticism of working in a war zone is clearly exaggerated, especially when you’re n the ground living it, and Becky quit her job after a year, but still, part of the cowboy in me thinks it would be fascinating. Despite her having left the posting, she did admit to having learned a great deal from her experience. After some time in DC she returned to Tanzania and then to Uganda, her last posting prior to Cairo. One of the things that truly compels me to pursue a job in this field is the passion with which aid and development workers speak about their experiences. To see someone’s eye’s tear up as they reminisce about helping local families to regain their independence and self-sufficiency makes we want to ditch London and move to Africa all the more. In time, in time.

Back to a very different reality, I spent last night at my friend Mohamed’s home in 6th of October City. This is an odd place, built far outside the city, it abuts to the desert and is an iconic example of the satellite cities that represent affluent Egyptian flight from Cairo. As the government follows suit, moving important ministries to these bizarre, artificial towns, I can’t help but wonder what is the future of the Mother of the World? Have the Egyptian elites completely given up on Cairo? This is another topic that Liam is very interested in tackling for an upcoming article (and the beauty of freelancing is that he has this freedom). The evening was very low key, but I feel that I must describe how absolutely absurd it was nonetheless. I preface this by saying that Mohamed is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, we met at LSE where he is working on a masters and then a PhD in social anthropology. Anyhow, at 11:00 he sent his driver to meet Liam and I at the Sofitel in Zamalek to drive us back to his house, a trip that with traffic can take anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours, without traffic, it’s a 20 minute straight shot to the Nile. The trip follows a single elevated road over lush delta farmland, billboards along the side hint at the changing demographics as you leave the city. Advertisements for Mercedes and new private villas in developments like “Beverly Hills” and “October Hills” connote an almost escapist mentality, as Liam sees it. To get to Mohamed’s house we passed through one set of gates, leaving the desert road for a lush development that could easily have been in Southern California or South Florida. The second set of gates with a private gatehouse and guards opened to Mohamed’s private home. The house directly in front of us as we entered was the guesthouse, though it was 3 bedrooms and larger than your average middle class suburban American abode. To the right was the main house, with a large portico and the obligatory BMWs parked out front. We were ushered inside by young girls clad in simple frocks and guided through the main reception area – which basically could have been a wing of Versailles—to the back veranda, which had a seating area large enough to comfortable hold thirty people. There was a large pool to the right and a sizeable pool house to the left with a full outdoor kitchen and a 20-foot serving counter. After that (next to the kennel containing about 6 barking guard dogs) was the air-conditioned, self-contained gazebo where we spent the night chatting until about 4:30 in the morning. At some point we were asked if we wanted anything to eat and we agreed that would be nice. About 30 minutes later two girls came out with, count them, 2 full-length tables, one after the others, with a buffet to feed 20 people. This was at 3 AM. Apparently they sleep in shifts so that someone is always on call. When Liam asked Mohamed how many people worked for them, he actually didn’t know. As Liam later commented, this is how the Pasha’s used to live in pre-Revolutionary Egypt. It was nothing short of insanity. At the end of the night when we got tired, we simply called the driver and he took us both home to our respective apartments in town. Now that’s what I call service.

So that is my past week here in Cairo. I am getting to see more and more of how different people live, exploring other bits of the city and learning quite a bit about the current issues in Egyptian politics, economics and society. I must say, I love this city and this country as much as ever, I implore you all to come visit whenever you have an opportunity, just call me and I’ll be happy to serve as your guide! More to come after Siwa!

Does Anyone Actually Read this Blog?

2008-07-05T07:52:00.001-07:00

I must admit that I thought of this title prior to reading my very first comment from my good friend Emanuele. While I know that there are a few of you out there who do care to keep up with the goings on in my life, I feel that I should explain that this is a two-way street. While I write to keep you up-to-date with my life, I expect a little recognition, I want to know what everyone else is doing, so follow Emanuele's example and post a reply or two!

But I digress...I have finally settled in and it feels like I never left. I have a nice two bedroom flat in Zamalek that I share with Ahmed, though he says he will probably be there about half the time. It's fabulously tacky in the spirit of all rentals in this city, but thats what makes it so much fun. I have also joined the gym across the street, which is wonderfully empty and open until midnight.

Coming from London I must say it is a breath of fresh air to be able to stay out at a cafe or bar until 5 or 6 in the morning. Last night is a case in point. I went to the 4th of July party, hosted by the American Embassy at the British International School - I hope the irony wasn't lost on the organizers. The party is always a good time, I recall attending three years ago when it was at the Cairo American College. This time, however, there was a beer garden - hosted by the Marines. As if the choice of location wasn't laughable enough, they were serving Coronas imported from Israel, replete with Hebrew script on the back of the bottles. Perhaps the funniest part of the evening, however, was the several dozen Egyptians who were crowding the windows of an adjacent building overlooking the school, watching the goings-on as if we were a Hollywood film, ahhh Egypt.

The party ended at 9 and after some aimless wandering through Maadi - which is way off the beaten path in the far southern reaches of the city - we finally caught a cab to the 'after party' at Club 55, which was more of a casual gathering of shisha and coffee that lasted until about 1 AM. We stayed another two hours enjoying the cool Cairo night. As I'm sure I've mentioned countless times, this is truly the city that never sleeps, you will find people out wandering the streets literally all night - though finding a cab at those hours is not necessarily so simple, especially in Maadi as we learned the hard way. After Club 55, we decided to go for a walk around Maadi. The neighborhood is very popular with Western expats and contains lush greenery and large single family homes. We popped into the local branch of Beano's after grabbing some kunefah (a wonderfully sweet Egyptian desert) and had a deep discussion of the state of American and global politics until about 4:30. How appropriate for our independence day. We ended the evening with some fantastic YouTube videos - one of which I have posted in my links - before calling it a night just as the sun was rising.

More to come soon, including a brief excerpt from the rough draft of my dissertation, until then, I am headed to finalize the contract for my flat and then grab drinks at Buddha Bar where the Cairo Martini is apparently to die for. Yes, living in Egypt after the UK can feel incredibly glamorous at times, mainly because I can afford to eat.

The City Victorious

2008-07-02T11:19:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've stolen the title of this posting from someone else, but how many great works of literature borrow their inspiration from past masters? While my choice of wording connotes a literary theme, it is also a rough translation of my current home - Al-Qahira. That's right, after more than a year away from my beloved Cairo I have returned to spend the month of July, researching for my dissertation - and I could not be more ecstatic to be back. As we reached the final hour of our flight from London to Cairo I found it difficult to concentrate, instead I anxiously craned my neck for a glimpse of the North African coastline to appear out of the endless blue of the Mediterranean.

Leaving London was bittersweet. The weather has been surprisingly warm the past few days and as my readers are well aware, I am infatuated with all that the city has to offer, from the mundane to the exceptional. That said, much like Cairo, London isn't going anywhere. As I have decided to apply only to jobs in the United Kingdom, my return to England is all but certain - though frustratingly lacking a confirmed date.

Back to Africa...seeing the brown, dusty Egyptian coast cut the monotony of the sea never fails to elicit a swell of anticipation deep inside of me. It is a mix of excitement and of anxiety of the unpredictability of certain, imminent adventures. The closest example I can provide is that sensation one has when returning home from an extended stay abroad. Indeed, the only place the gets me as much as the sight of that coastline is the simple beauty of the Washington Monument poking out from behind the trees as I cruise down the GW Parkway - the Monument and Georgetown's majestic gothic spires, of course.

But I digress...we touched down in Cairo around 4:30 PM, a bit behind schedule, but this is Egypt, I would worry if anything was too efficient (though the delay was admittedly on BMI's end back in London). Here I must share a brief anecdote. After securing my visa and explaining the purpose of my stay in Egypt, I attempted to change a $100 bill that mom had slipped me at the airport back in April. As ultimate proof of the fall of the almighty dollar, not a single bank at the airport would touch my money. They said that they didn't change $100 bills there, and that I would have to go downtown. Not even the duty free liquor store would accept my $100 bill as payment. Granted, they both would have changed or accepted smaller denominations, but there was a day not so long ago when one could travel to any country in the world, wave $100 bill and draw instant attention. Now you cannot so much as convert it at an airport bank, thank you George W. Bush.

That minor inconvenience aside - and its rather comical because I had similar difficulties changing the money in the UK - I arrived in Zamalek where I checked in to a small, inexpensive hotel, took a breather, and braved the heat in search of a sim card. I walked west down 26th of July Street, crossing the Nile and entering Mohandisseen. I continued along the road until I finally found what I was searching for, Vodafone. It really is astounding that Cairo can be simultaneously in a constant state of flux, and yet ever-reliable. I sit here now at Tabasco, the neighborhood cafe where I often had dinner with friends some three years ago when I spent my first summer here. It was here that I first spotted my friend Emanuele, now living in DC he remains my personal mentor and role model. I ordered my absolute favorite, fresh-squeezed guava juice (and a chicken shwarma, both for a whopping $6) and it felt like I had never left. At the same time that I am comforted by this familiarity, one look out the window of the plane and I had been struck by the astonishing observation, echoed by Ahmed and the former AUC professor (of English origin) seated next to us, that Cairo seems to expand with increasing rapidity every year. What's more, despite the fact that by August I will have spent a combined total of over three months in this city, there are a million things I have yet to do or see. I want to visit the camel market, to see the 1973 War Panorama, Ahmed and I are already planning a weekend trip to the Siwa Oasis replete with a desert safari to the isolated oases that speckle the western desert. Even with such an ambitious list of sights to see, I will have to return one hundred times more to even make a dent.

All of this is to say that Cairo never disappoints. Ask anyone who has spent time here and they will tell you that returning to Cairo is a bit like coming home. Like any great city, Cairo is ever-changing. I was disappointed to find that the Cairo Jazz Club seems to have been demolished, yet there is surely something new and exciting to take its place. Still, through the ages, Cairo seems to maintain its unique sense of self. Whether you are wandering the crowded, meandering alleys of the Khan, or strolling the glimmering boulevards of City Starz, Cairo is unmistakable in its allure, charm and age-old mystique.

Doing Nothing in the Algarve

2008-06-25T04:05:00.001-07:00

After two weeks of exams, I needed a break and my when my friend Nick invited several of us to join him for a few days at his parents' villa in Faro, Portugal, it sounded ideal. I met Ryan Friday afternoon and took a car to Gatwick for the quick two-and-a-half hour flight to the southwestern bit of the Iberian Peninsula. Our driver was a bit crazy and acted as though we were fighting the frenzied chaos of a Lagos freeway rather than an English highway. Clearly we did arrive at the airport in one piece, however. I must say, the nausea-inducing drive to the airport would be the last bit of unpleasantness for the remainder of our trip. By 9:00 that night we were in the Quinta do Lago resort at Nick's front gates. This was truly an experience in relaxation, we didn't have to lift a finger. Nick showed Ryan and I to our room, a beautiful wood-floored space with a balcony that overlooked the side lawn and olive grove, with an adjoining bathroom that housed a shower large enough for about 10 people. After dropping our bags we headed downstairs to find an incredible spread ready and waiting, prepared by Luke and Sarah, our personal chefs. There was a delicious seafood paella, a variety of sides and even a crème brulée for dessert. We spent the rest of the evening trying to put a dent in Nick's father's supply of wine and champagne, which somehow fostered the idea that a game of frisbee in the pitch black of the golf course behind the house would be a good idea. Needless to say that didn't last long, and we ended the night in the home cinema in the most amazing theatre seats I've ever experienced. They actually recline to a flat bed with the touch of a button, thus, needless to say I ended up passing out a bit earlier than every one else shortly after settling into the plush leather.

The following day set the tone for the trip. I suppose that I cannot, in retrospect, really say that I've 'seen' Portugal, as we didn't leave the resort complex once. We did go to the beach for a bit and then had some cocktails at a local restaurant, however, the bulk of our time was spent reading or swimming in the pool, which is exactly what I needed. You know, after a solid year of reading what others tell you to for school, it is an incredible luxury to be able to freely choose your own text.

The days were generally spent swimming, with an occasional trip to the sauna beneath the pool in the gym - because clearly the 30+ weather wasn't hot enough. Nick decided to give Luke and Sarah Saturday night off as we prepared a ridiculous BBQ. Ryan grilled some fantastic homemade burgers while the rest of us completed various other tasks. We ate until we nearly burst, and then proceeded to spend the better part of an hour cleaning up the mess we had made.

On Sunday afternoon we went to a restaurant on the beach called Gigi's where we ordered several pitchers of sangria and ate the largest prawns I think I have ever seen. The swordfish was equally spectacular and we left yet another meal so satiated we found it difficult to stand up from the table. Sadly, Ryan had to leave that night, however, I decided to extend my stay until Tuesday, taking advantage of my time off while hedging my bets against London's less-trustworthy weather patterns.

With the return of our cooks on Monday we indulged in meals that included eggplant and zucchini casserole, octopus and cucumber salad, roast chicken as well as sage-encrusted swordfish filets served over beautiful asparagus. I feel as though I ate like a king, yet everything was quite healthy and wonderfully fresh and local. Post-dinner drinks is another story, however, as 'doing nothing' often involves 'drinking heavily'. We had sangria, wine, champagne, cocktails and Luke even prepared a homemade frozen watermelon cocktail that was dangerously and innocuously sweet.

All in all I feel relaxed and regenerated. Nick was a wonderful host and could not have provided a more perfect weekend for his guests. I came away with three new friends, a slight hint of a tan, and a new appreciation for laziness. I highly recommend the Algarve to anyone and everyone - there is never a cloud in the sky, the seafood is fresh and the motto is one to live by - or at least occasionally holiday by!

How About a Little Structural Adjustment to Tide You Over?

2008-06-16T15:55:00.000-07:00

Alright, so my weekly updates have proven a miserable failure. I promise to post soon, but exams have really gotten the best of me and I have simply been unable to stay on top of things. That said, I finish tomorrow with African development at 2:30 in the afternoon and will proceed to a state of drunken incoherence shortly thereafter. In the spirit of my final exam, therefore, I have decided to post an essay that I penned for the course on the topic of the 'failure of structural adjustment in Africa'. Yes, its a bit dull, but I figure for those who care it might serve as a bit of insight into what I've been studying this year at the LSE. Any questions or comments are welcome! Enjoy!

Since the early 1990s, the World Bank has increasingly sought to promote a more comprehensive plan for reform in Africa, moving beyond its previously singular focus on market liberalisation. This approach, which mirrors the ‘Post-Washington Consensus’ in its basic tenets, seems to adopt a more comprehensive strategy that aims to tackle poor governance and corruption as significant obstacles to progress and reform. In light of this shift in focus it is evident that the structural adjustment programmes (SAPS), which dominated the Bank’s policies in the 1980s, fell short of sparking a miraculous African recovery. This is not to say that there were not limited successes in some instances; however, given across-the-board underperformance throughout a significant diversity of contexts, the indicators would suggest that structural adjustment did, to a certain extent, ‘fail’ in Africa. Failure, of course, is a relative term whose codification necessarily depends upon the definition of success. Still, as the UN Economic Commission for Africa (ECA) argued, one of the major shortcomings of the World Bank’s programmes in Africa was in its neglecting to establish an accurate baseline for assessing the relative success of its programmes. Thus perhaps the question should be reformulated: To what extent did structural adjustment programmes benefit the African polities they targeted? The answer to this new question is no more positive, as structural adjustment programmes seemed to cause far more harm than good in the African context.

While most would agree with the assertion that free-market reforms are in the long-term best interest of African states, the central problem with structural adjustment seems to be its ‘inappropriate design’ rather than its ultimate goals. In most instances there seems to have been a disconnect between the conditionalities attached to the reforms and the willingness, or even the ability, of African leaders to deliver on them. The reasons for this lack of will and inability to implement reform are varied across the different African states. Some African leaders welcomed IMF and World Bank loans. As Paul Mosley notes, “technocrats within the Kenya government…saw in this period of economic crisis, an opportune moment for pushing through a comprehensive reform package”. Similarly, in Ghana, Gerry Rawlings’ decision to accede to World Bank and IMF SAPS was “facilitated by the considerable congruity between his own concern for social justice and the redistributive thrust of the structural adjustment policies”. Still, as leaders in Kenya and Ghana would discover, vested political and economic interests would make major alterations to the institutional structure of the state all but impossible.

Other leaders were not so optimistic as to the potential success of these programmes and still others treated them with outright contempt and hostility. As Nicolas Van de Walle notes, “negative views of the new liberal orthodoxy [NLO] are widely held across a broad cross section of African intellectuals and civil society”. He goes on to observe that even in the absence of outright opposition to the SAPS, “the NLO is argued not to apply well to Africa, given African sociocultural realities”. Thus the picture appeared bleak from the very outset, for how could doubting and even openly antagonistic regimes successfully implement daunting reforms in which they did not believe?

Ultimately, it appears as though the success of the SAPS was highly contingent upon existing preconditions in the target states. Thus, the failure of structural adjustment in Africa should be viewed as a result of a variety of potential variables whose impact differed across states. These included overly optimistic aspirations on the part of the International Financial Institutions (IFIs), intransigent and entrenched institutional structures, indigenous hostility or lack of will, poor timing and related exogenous factors beyond any individual or government’s control. Where programmes produced positive results, as was arguably the case in Kenya, it was generally due to a convergence of favourable conditions, not the genius of the SAPS themselves.

Certainly Africa was in need of considerable and immediate intervention following a series of crises in the 1970s and early 1980s. With post-independence optimism beginning to wane, a series of exogenous shocks struck a near-fatal blow to many fledgling African polities. The oil shock, in particular, led to a major balance of payments crisis. Given the import-substitution policies of this era, whose aim was to bring about rapid modernisation of otherwise agricultural economies, oil was a necessary input for industrialisation. As such, significant monetary reserves were spent on the import of this vital commodity. In addition, droughts and a global recession led to a serious crisis in primary commodity prices and export revenues, leaving many African countries seriously impoverished and desperate for a bail out. The relatively cheap interests rates and availability of World Bank SAPS, proved an enticing option for many desperate African regimes.

These loans were not simply bailouts, however. They came with a long-list of conditionalities and policy objectives that recipients were expected to meet. Quite problematically, many of these loans seemed to overlook the inherent consequences of the rapid economic liberalisation they prescribed. The case of Kenya provides a telling example of such myopic policy initiatives where “it was probably unwise to invite the Kenya government to begin the adjustment process by liberalising imports in the presence of a large fiscal balance of payments deficit, since to do so would have made those deficits worse”. Yet, as Peter Mosley notes, “far from tempering their enthusiasm with realism, [The World Bank] took advantage of its very strong bargaining position in 1982 to try and speed [reforms] up”. Naturally, the Kenyan government was unable to implement many of the World Bank’s reforms given domestic constraints that risked disturbing the political and economic stability of the state.

This inability to push through recommended reforms is actually a direct consequence of SAPS provisions. Because the programmes sought to reform what was seen as excessive government spending, severe limitations were placed on the allocation of funds by the central authority. The unintended result, of course, was a weakened state with diminished capacity that was far less able to press for major institutional changes. As Jeffrey Herbst argues, “rebuilding or creating institutions takes years and places enormous strains on the administrative capacities of African states”. Thus arises a paradox in which desired institutional reform under the SAPS is impossible as a direct consequence of diminished state capacity caused by the programmes. As Richard Jeffries points out, it was this diminished state capacity that, to a certain extent, made democratisation and decentralisation in Ghana so difficult under the Rawlings regime.

Not only do institutional reforms take time, which was often strictly limited by the benchmarks set under the SAPS, they also “demand that African leaders fundamentally change the way they relate to and reward their followers”. Of course, such changes in social structures have major implications for political and economic stability. Given the already weakened economic bases of many of these polities, in addition to their often artificial state borders and severe urban-rural divides, there was very little manoeuvring room for most African leaders to carry out significant institutional reforms. While economic development was certainly at the top of the World Bank’s priorities, it seemed to often forget that political stability was a necessary prerequisite for the success of such endeavours. As Mosley and Weeks note, “policy instability proved especially destructive and had more impact on economic performance than liberalization in any form”.

In their failure to account for precarious political stability, the IFIs seem to have overlooked the seemingly apparent observation that African societies are historically and institutionally unique. It follows that one must understand economic structural adjustment as having a profound effect on embedded institutional structures within these societies. This is a point that was perhaps overlooked due to the superficially familiar Western nation-state model imposed on the continent by its colonial overlords. Still, a dual system of ‘modernity’ and ‘tradition’ coexisted uneasily in most African states, complicating any potential institutional reform. The case of the state-owned enterprises (SOE) serves as the perfect example of such a power structure. The SOEs were “required to respond to important socio-political obligations linked to the extended family and kinship structures”. Where liberalisation called for privatisation of such enterprises, this created a conflict with the traditional power structure and patronage politics of the state, undermining the legitimacy of any leader who attempted such a reform.

In analysing the impact of these SAPS it is equally important to look beyond economics and politics to the effects on everyday citizens living under these conditions. In restricting government spending these adjustment programmes not only limited the political capacity of the state to implement reforms, but also its provision of basic services such as healthcare and education. As Kidane Mengisteab argues, one of the major shortcomings of the SAPS was in their “treating strategies like export promotion and currency devaluation as totally domestic processes and failing to contemplate their wider international implications”. With internal reforms, external market forces often created severe economic downturns, which forced African leaders to selectively allocate available funds between a variety of development projects. Given the IFIs’ preoccupation with industrialisation and modernisation of the economy, social programmes were often cut, with major repercussions. The diminished funding of education and healthcare, in particular, presented a major challenge to the long-term development of human capital, which is crucial to the prosperity of any society.

As Mosley and Weeks point out, “the faith that ‘adjustment helps raise living standards overall and especially for the poor’ would seem one of those piously ideological wishes derived from the view that little, if anything, can ever go wrong if markets are left to work their magic”. Of course markets fail, which is evident in the continued plight of many African economies, which remain deeply indebted and impoverished. That is why governments exist, to protect citizens from potential failures, ensure equitable redistribution and ensure long-term security, not only from physical violence, but in the form of access to social services and public goods as well.

Thus, SAPS in the African context had mixed results, although overall they produced resounding disappointment. The results of these programmes, as dissected in numerous subsequent reports, articles, analyses and critiques, point to several broad conclusions. The first, quite simply, is that World Bank money was helpful, where conditionalities were not. In Kenya, success was determined far more by the domestic government’s set agenda, funded by World Bank dollars, than it was by external conditionalities. A second conclusion, calling into question the logic of free market reforms as a superficial remedy, suggests, “what appeared crucial in economic recovery was…whether countries had a mutually consistent set of development policies” that constructively reinforced one another. That is to say that all conditions, internal and external, should have been accounted for with each policy reform so as to prevent negative potentialities from derailing their progress. Finally, and perhaps most frustratingly, is the suggestion put forth by Mosley that “it was likely to be difficult for the country to implement [the SAPS] unless it consisted almost entirely of policies already firmly rooted” in the target country. Thus we see that structural adjustment relied far more on the domestic conditions than it did on the market as a problem solver or the IFIs and their conditionalities as a universal solution. Still, optimism has its place. As Jeffrey Herbst warns, “rebuilding or creating institutions takes years”. As good governance and poverty alleviation move to centre stage in the 21st century, perhaps redesigned, more nuanced SAPS will yet bring positive change to the continent.

New: Weekly Updates!

2008-05-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

That's right, in the spirit of regularity and reliability, I have decided to attempt a weekly update of the blog covering my life and whatever current events have sparked my interest over the past seven days. Also, if you would like to know when I update, please send me an e-mail and I will add you to a list-serve with a link to the blog every time I add a new post! On to business...

For those of you who were not aware, it is officially springtime, which for some of us means long, sunny days and picnics in the park, while for others it signals exam season. For those of us who lack self control, it can mean a bit of both! As the sun drenches London until 8 o'clock, I think of that old saying, 'the grass is always greener on the other side,' yet in this instance I am thinking of an endogenous comparison whereby the arrival of spring is all-the-more welcome following one of the darkest, dreariest winters in the Western Hemisphere. Each of the past two Saturdays and Sundays I have managed to spend some if not all of the day in Green Park, Kensington Gardens, Hampstead Heath, Victoria Park, Mile End Park, Lincolns Inn Fields, Soho Square and Regents Park. There have been picnics, book readings and yes, a bit of drunken debauchery. While Boris (our new mayor) may try to take away our ability to drink on the tube and buses, he will never enter the sacred parks that blanket this city. Yes, London has more green space than any other city in Europe and the three royal parks (Hyde, Green and St. James are together 1.5 times the size of New York's Central Park).

I must admit that despite my procrastination over the weekend (yes, overindulgence in the form of that classical English summer Pimms cocktail got the best of me) I was able to spend the bulk of my week studying for my exams. I have read incessantly about African development and the Latin American debt crisis of the 1980s. I have also been able to attend some interesting events relating to my coursework. The first was a screening of the HBO documentary, The Greatest Silence: Rape in the DRC, which was one of the most difficult films I have seen in recent memory. The screening was followed with a discussion involving a variety of humanitarian actors who have worked in the field in Eastern Congo. The other documentary was screened on campus and I cannot for the life of me recall the name, but it looked at peace initiatives and the rehabilitation of child soldiers in the Ugandan Civil War. This is a particularly prescient topic as the negotiations in Uganda have come to a stand still with rebel leader Joseph Kony refusing to sign.

Now, all of this death and destruction warrants a bit of light-hearted contrast. As such, there was plenty of celebrating to take my mind off the ongoing horrors on the African continent (I do often feel horrible in the back of my mind when I think of my ability to so easily detach myself from these tragedies). Friday night Ryan and I enjoyed a nice French meal at Le Boudin Blanc in Mayfair. We would walk past this place nearly every week as it is right down the street from Ryan's flat. As Ryan is moving to Picadilly next weekend, we decided to bid his neighbourhood farewell with a final meal at this petit bistro. While the food was delicious (I highly recommend the lamb) the service was, in the French tradition, incredibly slow. Still, the evening ended on a light note when we mentioned our disappointment to the management (in French of course) and were gifted a £50 bottle of Tattinger champagne. On Saturday night the festivities for Natalia's birthday took on an even more inebriated colour as six of us managed to down seven bottles of wine and three full bottles of melon vodka shots. Needless to say I was not 100% on Sunday morning, and so it seemed that a movie was the perfect way to pass the afternoon.

Just when I think London cannot get more absurdly expensive, it surprises me anew. Yes, I decided to purchase tickets for the 'cheap seats' at a theatre in Leicester Square for Ironman (which I very much enjoyed) to the tune of £29, yes, that's £14.50 each, or $29 a ticket - no student discount. What was the price on the premium seating you ask? £19/$38. Yes, that's right, I could have seen a show on Broadway for that. On the other hand, a nice thai dinner after the show was only £23, so I suppose it all evens out. (We ate at Busaba in Soho, great communal seating if you're by yourself and very good quality food, especially for the price).

Finally, I sit here having punished myself for indulging a bit excessively over the weekend. At the invitation of my Swedish friend Christer (who just climbed Everest a couple of weeks ago) I spent an hour in Hyde Park training with the British military. Its a great program, for £35/mo you get 4 sessions, and for £48 you have unlimited access to the torture inflicted upon you by Britain's finest (and I will say, some of them are quite fine - it's worth the expense). During the course of the hour you are divided by fitness level into beginners, intermediates or advanced. I chose to do intermediate given my limited cardio stamina - and boy am I glad I did. For the duration of the hour you go all over Hyde Park (they have other training sites throughout central London) without more than one thirty-second water break at the half-way point. The training consists of a torturous mix of sprinting, jogging, pushups, situps, squats, relays, knee-ups and other creative means of pushing your body to the limits. At one point we had to carry each other, running, across the park. This was one of the best one-hour workouts I've had in recent memory, though perhaps next time I will choose to participate mid-week when I haven't been so indulgent with the alcohol.

There is much planned for this week, including more studying, dinner parties and a trip to my friend's private club Milk & Honey. Hopefully I will continue to find a good balance between work and play - this weather isn't making it easy though!!

Stay Tuned!

My First Trip to Westminster

2008-05-07T12:00:00.001-07:00

Today I was privileged enough to receive an invitation by one of my professors to an intimate discussion with the Chief Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Luis Moreno-Ocampo at the Houses of Parliament. Taking full advantage of my access to Westminster, I proceeded to wander the grounds and visit both the House of Commons and the House of Lords. In the post-9/11 world I must say how refreshing it is to walk through just one metal detector and have near-immediate access to the halls of power here in Britain. There was no invasive security procedure that left me feeling more a convict than a citizen, it was open and simple, the way Washington used to be. While the content of the parliamentary sessions was rather dull, Mr. Ocampo’s discussion was quite interesting.

Mr. Ocampo covered some of the issues that currently confront the international community relating to the rule of law and criminal justice on a global level. He began his speech with a description of the court itself. He spoke of complimentarity and cooperation as the two guiding principles of the ICC in relation to accommodation with national legal systems of member states. In keeping with this notion of national systems as the primary outlet for judicial proceedings, Mr. Ocampo argued that the ICC should only take over a case when the nation-state fails to pursue criminal charges or is incapable of doing so.

One of the foremost challenges confronting the court today is how to best assure that justice is served in such a way that peace is ensured. Often truth and reconciliation commissions or local, tribal justice take precedence over international criminal proceedings as a means of promoting peace. This can be challenging for some observers who would prefer a more traditional form of justice, however, extradition to the ICC in such cases can challenge peacebuilding efforts in certain localities. Still, Mr. Ocampo argues that there must be consistency in the implementation of the law to ensure the reputation and integrity of the Court and the law that it aims to uphold.

Mr. Ocampo went on to discuss the conflict in Northern Uganda between the government and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) where an agreement is awaiting the signature of rebel leader Joseph Kony. While Kony claims that he will not sign the agreement until the ICC drops its warrants for his arrest, my professor, Tim Allen, a resident expert on the conflict, claims that Kony’s reluctance to sign the accords relates more to America’s unwillingness to cut him a concessionary check as it did Foday Sankoh in Sierra Leone. Mr. Ocampo, stresses that arresting Kony would be an important step towards regional stability. He is frustrated by the rebel leader’s use of the talks as a means to gain legitimacy while refusing to release abducted children or take meaningful steps towards disarmament.

For me, one of the more interesting topics addressed by the prosecutor dealt with the question of major powers not signatory to the Rome Statute, which created the court. Apparently Mr. Ocampo has recently met with officials at the State Department, and while we are all aware of the infighting between State and the Pentagon, he claims that he was assured of American backing in cases that it supported. Mr. Ocampo stressed the importance of regular meetings and cooperative measures with non-signatories as well as regional bodies. He has plans to meet with the Arab League in the near future and has consulted the African Union (AU) in relation to Darfur as well as the Organization of American States (OAS) on the issue of the FARC guerrilla forces in Colombia. In fact, Mr. Ocampo spoke about the recent assassination of Raúl Reyes, in Ecuadorian territory and the role that the Court has come to play in investigating the FARC supply network.

The reason for Mr. Ocampo’s visit to Westminster was ostensibly to inform Members of Parliament as to how they might assist the ICC in its various missions. This task relates directly to the question of Sudan, for instance, where an elite member of the government, Mr. Ahmed Haroun, is wanted for Crimes Against Humanity in the Darfur conflict. Despite a warrant out for his arrest he has been promoted within the Sudanese government from the Minister of the Interior to the Minister of Humanitarian Affairs. While the government has refused to cooperate, Mr. Ocampo suggested that British MPs might take steps towards pressuring the government of Sudan to hand over Mr. Haroun for his crimes. Indeed, the current talks unfolding in Oslo would present a prime opportunity for the international community to demand concessions from Sudan as it requests USD $6 billion for reconstruction in the South.

Perhaps the most interesting comment of the afternoon, however, related to the future of the ICC. Mr. Ocampo was once again questioned on American unwillingness to sign on to the Rome Statute. His response was that America would come to understand the need for and impartiality of the Court and eventually join just as others have done. If they do not, he warned, ‘the whole world will be just like Darfur.’

Its Springtime in London!

2008-04-27T12:52:00.001-07:00

After two weeks in America, the London to which I returned seems an unfamiliar city. All of a sudden the streets of the capital have been transformed by warm weather and fourteen-hour days. While I slept through most of Friday, Ryan and I celebrated his birthday that evening over a wonderful dinner at Theo Randall’s before wandering over to Trash Palace to see the crew in Soho. Saturday, was the ideal day, however, as we spent the better part of the afternoon and early evening picnicking in Hyde Park. The tulips were in bloom, the people were out in force and the sun was shining bright enough to leave me with a bit of a burn on my face.

As Anthony said, ‘that first Pims of the season will make your forget the entire winter’ and he couldn’t have been more accurate. After the park we chose to end the evening in Covent Garden with a few pints at the Lamb and Flag, taking advantage of the outdoors to watch the sunlight fade in the warmth of an English spring.

After spending the past several weeks in New York, Washington, DC and at home with my family in Baltimore, I can safely say that spring just changes people. Cities are reborn and transformed as their residents once again take to the streets to capitalize on the warmth and sunshine. While I clearly don’t spend much time in Los Angeles, I would think that these people cannot possibly fully appreciate the joy of spring without the enduring bitterness of a long and dreary winter.

To see your city transformed before your eyes is to be filled with a sense of excitement, of content and perhaps a bit of nostalgia. Yes, wandering through Mayfair watching people don their new sunglasses and sandals, I am reminded of the first warm day in grade school when we would flood the quad during our free periods and soak up the sun before the bell signals the start of the next class. I recalled the neighborhood growing up, when we would listen for the ice cream truck and eat our dinner out on the back deck, watching the still surface of the swimming pool waiting to be broken by an early-evening swim.

But I digress. It was difficult to leave the States last Thursday. I of course miss my family and friends – not to mention my dog – but what saddened me most of all was my memory of a cold and dark city to which I was forcibly returning myself. America had been warm and bright; I had laid out on the grass of Dupont Circle reading my book and enjoyed milkshakes in the East Village at midnight. To return to sunlight, long days and happy Londoners reconfirmed my desire to give this city a chance and extend my stay for a couple of years. I have come to love much of what this metropolis has to offer, all that was missing was that spring fever. Anthony was right, that first sip of Pims erased all my cares in the world and revealed a rejuvenated London.

The great tragedy of it all is that I now must spend my days studying, writing and revising in preparation for my exams in June, but alas, perhaps I can take my laptop out to Regents Park or Russell Square and find a happy medium between study and leisure.

If nothing else, I can take solace in the fact that spring has brought a film production crew to my street, a film production crew and Matt Damon. So if nothing else, perhaps I will find myself passing Mr. Damon with my study break latte in one hand and sack of books in the other – that would certainly brighten my day!

Gay Ski Week 2008

2008-04-07T12:39:00.001-07:00

In an effort to combine two of my favourite things, several friends and I decided to organise a gay ski week of mountain fun in the Austrian Alps. I will first say that this was not the mass gathering of mo's that I expected, but we didn't let that get us down. To set the scene, my friends Dave, Ryan and Carlos joined me on this 5-day tour de force of Europe's mountainous heartland. We arrived in Munich on Tuesday night with enough time to grab a few pints and settle in for the night. What was meant to be our cute little Audi A4 turned out instead to be more of a Volkswagon minibus/van, though ultimately it proved far roomier for all of our luggage. After grabbing an early lunch in the city the following morning we set off for Austria. We stopped halfway at Castle in southern Bavaria. Many of you might recognise the edifice from the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, it was built for King Ludwig II, though his suspicious premature death prevented it from ever being put to use. Instead, the castle was completed and immediately opened to tourists.

After the castle we crossed the border into Austria and began the climb through the foothills of the Alps. Within about thirty minutes of entering the country the snow began to fall and as we reached higher altitudes on winding mountain roads the sun was completely blocked out by the dense blanket of snow that blanketed the silent pine groves that covered the hills. Sölden, our destination, did not disappoint as the snow continued to fall upon arrival in the picturesque Alpine town.

As you certainly do not need a play-by-play, I will continue from this point with the highlights. First, the skiing was amazing. We could not have asked for better conditions. Our first day of skiing Ryan and I rose early, around 7 AM to take advantage of the early hours of the day, hoping for less-crowded slopes. As we opened the blinds of the hotel room we were greeted with a fresh night's snow that was still falling. As we waited to take the lift up to the summit we could hear the blasting as the resort worked to clear any potential avalanches. It snowed the entire day that day, and at certain points Ryan and I found ourselves in thigh-high powder. I have never had such incredible conditions, not even in the Rockies.

The downside to these amazing conditions are twofold. On the one hand everyone seems to be an amazing skier. They put most Americans to shame, Ryan and myself included. The second pitfall to Austria's amazing mountains is that there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to the lift lines and you basically have to fight your way onto every single one. We're young and aggressive, so we ultimately fared quite well in this regard, still, it was a bit of a shock at first that there was nobody guiding us onto the lifts in neat organised groups.

Our second day of skiing was as good as the first. This time the snow cleared, leaving powdered slopes and bright blue skies that revealed incredible vistas and endless snow-covered peaks. The crowds were far greater the second day, but this time all four of us managed to ski together. The highlight of the day, however, was the somewhat morbid medivac airlift that took place right in front of us during our last run of the day. We had no idea what the emergency was, but we were forced to wait for a solid forty minutes while a chopper landed on the narrow path blowing snow every which way,

As for the gay events, we had fun, though we were certainly among the youngest - and if I may say, more attractive - guests. We spent one night at gay karaoke, Carlos even joined a group of Brits in song - we have pictures to prove it. There were also après ski events at a series of bars in town and a club night to end the week - which was pretty underwhelming. The après ski was nice, though for the second day we opted to take a trip to a neighbouring town and enjoy the Aqua Dome, which could not have been more ubiquitously advertised throughout the valley. The place was actually amazing. There were outdoor pools with lazy rivers, a salt-water pool and a sulfer pool that were elevated above the others with soothing chroma-therapy. The whole place was situated in the middle of the mountains. As we sat back in the warm water and admired the views I could not have been more relaxed.

After Sölden we opted to spend the weekend sightseeing and thus did an afternoon in Innsbruck and Hall. Innsbruck is gorgeous and takes full advantage of its strategic location at the intersection of the Inn Valley and the Brenner Pass. The setting is simply magnificent. After Innsbruck we stopped for an hour in the town of Hall, the most well-preserved Medieval town in the Tyrol. There were no tourists - in fact, there was nobody at all - so we wandered the narrow streets and snapped some pictures before returning to Munich. That night we went out on the town, and while Dave and Carlos stayed out all night, Ryan and i were beat from skiing and headed in to bed on the (relatively) early side.

The next day we visited the summer palace in Munich and wandered around the city a bit more before heading to the airport to try and catch an earlier flight. No dice there, but we were happy to sit and relax after an exhausting though exhilarating weekend. I must say, the Alpine ski trip might have to become an annual standard!

(Images: The town of Sölden with gay flags in foreground; Me atop the mountain at over 3,000 meters; Dave, Ryan & Carlos on the lift; The medivac; View of Innsbruck)

London: Now Foodie Friendly!

2008-03-14T05:42:00.001-07:00

Brunch – Automat

This is the best brunch I’ve yet to find here in London. It came highly recommended by another American ex-pat on a similar mission to discover a Sunday-morning getaway with a little bit of that New York/San Francisco restaurant scene that we all know and love. The décor is perfect for a weekend pick-me-up, with a light and airy atmosphere reminiscent of an Upper West Side eatery. Always packed with locals – especially the transatlantic ex-pat crowd – reservations are a must, but once seated service is a pleasant improvement from the standard London curtness. I highly recommend the waffles, which are soft and fluffy with an irresistible melange of savoury sweetness that melts in your mouth. Conversely, the blueberry pancakes offer the perfect taste of home. These traditional flapjacks are actually smothered in blueberries and jam to the point that they are perfect as served with no need for added syrup or butter. I am told that the dinner is equally worthwhile!

Tea – The Wolseley

High Tea in London is an institution, but finding a quality location with the right ambience and local character can prove a daunting task. Amazingly enough, The Wolseley provides the perfect atmosphere for a late-afternoon tea right in central London. With soaring ceilings and beautiful old-world charm, The Wolseley is as popular with locals as it is with those in the know. It is the details that count when you sit down to tea, and from the excellent service to the mismatched silver teapots, the Wolseley is absolutely perfect if you’re looking for an authentic teatime in a grand, yet traditional setting. To top it all off the prices are far better than at the neighbouring Ritz or Fortnum & Mason and the only thing you sacrifice is the hordes of well-healed tourists!

Scavenging – Borough Market

I would have to say that Borough Market is potentially my favorite place in all of London. While it can get extremely crowded on a Saturday morning, truly trying your patience, there is no better way to spend a weekend morning. From the incredible fresh fruits and vegetables to the rabbits and deer hanging alongside the butcher shops you can procure the absolutely freshest ingredients in the city if you’re willing to rise early and pay a premium for the cheerful ambiance. Beyond the staple goods, there are olive oils from Spain and Greece and my absolute favorite – over a dozen varieties of balsamic vinegar, some of which are accented by ‘forest fruits’ and white truffle oil. A morning in the market is like a free meal. I recommend heading out early, 9 AM at the latest to beat the crowds. Start by sampling the cheeses and move on to the sauces and oils, then grab a fresh squeezed juice with a shot of lemongrass to wash down some fresh oysters and finish with a nice venison burger and a chocolate brownie. If you are a serious food shopper and looking to get in and out, I recommend trying the market on Friday when everything is fresher and the market is less crowded.

More recommendations to come shortly!

O as in OPEC

2008-03-10T06:16:00.001-07:00

The one problem with living in London is that there are no truly warm destinations within a quick 3-hour flight during the dead of winter. No, if one needs an escape to the beach and sun it seems as though the best option is either the Caribbean (lame) or the Arabian Peninsula (fantastic). Not wanting to spend our weekend with American college spring breakers, Natalia and I decided that perhaps we would capitalise on cheap tickets with Air France and hop over to the UAE and Oman for a quick holiday. Natalia and my friend Veronica just moved to Dubai in January, and so we had the perfect opportunity to stay with a friend and experience the insanity of true Arab excess.

In that respect, Dubai did not disappoint. This is the largest construction site that I have ever seen, in fact, Dubai actually has around 40% of the world’s cranes! While there, we indulged in dessert at the world’s only 7-star hotel, the Burj al-Arab, had lunch overlooking an indoor ski slope, and gawked at what is already the world’s tallest building, the Burj Dubai, currently under construction. Looking for a bit of perspective, we spent the other half of our 5-day trip in Oman’s capital city, Muscat, and the comparison could not be starker.

I’ll begin with Dubai, because it was just beyond belief. First of all, the city is actually centred around several different conglomerations, Dubai Creek and Old Dubai, Sheikh Zayed and the Dubai Marina and New Dubai. Natalia and I spent our first day a bit jet-lagged having left London at 8 PM Wednesday and arrived after a 7-hour flight from Paris at 9 AM Thursday morning. We decided that after a casual breakfast at a café near Vero’s flat we would enjoy the warm weather and get some sun on the rooftop deck by the pool overlooking Jumeirah and the skyscrapers along Sheikh Zayed. We then met Vero for a delicious lunch of local fish at the Dubai International Financial Centre (DIFC) where she works. Natalia and I spent the remainder of the afternoon just lounging before the night out.

The nightlife in Dubai is best compared to that of Las Vegas. Most of the best bars and restaurants are in the hotels. Our first night out began at Pier Chic, a beautiful restaurant about 500 feet offshore on a massive pier that overlooks the Burj al-Arab. Dinner was amazing, although the prices are almost on par with those in London. Still, as I have said a thousand times, one of the greatest luxuries for those of us living in more extreme winter climates is the ability to escape to warm weather. Sitting there over the water, taking in the beach behind us and the Burj beyond, Natalia and I could not have been happier to have escaped the cold – especially Natalia, this is the girl who spend a minimum of two weekends a month in Miami all four years of Georgetown!

After dinner we travelled in style on golf carts across the seemingly endless resort properties to 360 at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel. This bar was also out on a jetty in the water and was open on top, allowing patrons to enjoy the cool Gulf breezes. Lounging on large daybeds drinking sweet cocktails and smoking our shisha, we could not have been more enraptured of our surroundings. Even better, my friend Sherif, who I have not seen since my summer in Cairo in 2005, joined us at 360, giving us the opportunity to play catch up. Sherif now lives in Dubai, though he never seems to stay anywhere for too long, so it’s nice that we were able to run into each other.

I’ll get back to Dubai, but first let me speak of the most impromptu trip ever, our overnight drive to Oman (granted, we only booked the flight to Dubai two weeks before leaving). We decided that we would rent a car and do the 5-hour drive to Muscat for a change of scenery. Together with Vero, Natalia and Vero’s friend Ryan (who apparently lived with my friend Dominic in Cairo – small world) we hit the road. With no place to stay in Muscat we figured we would find something upon arrival. Anyway, in the spirit of spontaneity, we stopped about an hour outside of Dubai and went ATVing through the desert sand dunes. It was fantastic, as we raced each other across the barren terrain, flying over the crests and speeding down the dunes. While my camera did become jammed with sand, we still had an amazing time. Next it was back in the car and off to the border. It was a fairly painless process to cross into Oman, first we were stamped out of the UAE, then we drove another mile and purchased our Omani visas (Natalia and I got in for free!) then we drove into Oman, easy as that!

Oman is very much like the American Midwest in that the towns seem to be set up in strips along the main highways. Muscat, on the other hand is crammed between jagged, rocky, mountains and the blue Sea of Oman. The drive to the capital took longer than expected and when we finally reached the outskirts of town we were running on fumes. We stopped to ask the first person we saw to ask for help finding a gas station. Natalia was like, ‘whatever, he’ll speak English’ and low and behold, the guy was some Scandinavian convert in full Pakistani religious garb. Still, our blond-haired, blue-eyed friend knew what he was talking about and directed us successfully to a Shell station.

After refuelling we found the Chedi resort where we had lunch – it was an incredible resort, right on the beach. We ended up spending a full 3 hours in the sun overlooking the water and lawn enjoying minty lemonade, Indian food, tagine and amazing deserts prepared by the in-house French pastry chef. We then strolled the grounds and inquired as to the availability and price of the rooms - $520 for a standard room just wouldn’t do, however, so we swallowed our pride and moved on.
Instead we decided to try one of the Lonely Planet’s suggestions – the Marina Hotel. This was a mistake. It smelled of fish, had stains on the carpet and after the Chedi was basically hell-on-Earth. Of course none of us wanted to be the asshole who said as much, and so we all wavered and said that we would stay there if the others wanted to. Thank god the consensus was to move on, because it turned out that HSBC gets a corporate rate at the Shangri La resort. It was not quite the Chedi, but it was 5 stars and we got it at half price. We spent the rest of the night drinking and eating ourselves to the point of explosion before trying to party it up at the hotel club only to find that we were the only ones there. We didn’t let that stop us, though, and after a couple of rounds of shots the bartender Stanley let us DJ for a bit.

The next day we woke up early and spent the morning on the water, dolphin watching. This was a great way to start the day, though we got a bit wetter than we had expected, as the water was a choppier than usual. The rest of the morning was spent by the pool enjoying the 27-degree weather. Our afternoon then found us checked out and wandering the old town and the souq, which was actually empty. Muscat was an amazing time, but mostly for the company and the incredible poolside settings of the resorts. My impression is that Oman is best enjoyed when one leaves the city and takes advantage of the wilderness that the country offers, frankly, the city was a bit like a ghost town. Oh well, we’ll save that for next time.
We arrived back in Dubai around 10 PM that night after missing a turn and our border crossing and instead headed up the coast, passing through Fujeira, one of the other Emirates. That night we had a laid back Lebanese dinner near Vero’s flat called Olive House and called it a night. Oman had been relaxing, but the driving was a killer.

On our last day in Dubai, Natalia and I truly got a taste of the tackiness and excess of this emirate. We began with a morning visit to the Jumeirah mosque, which was like Disney world. It’s only 30 years old and while it is informative for those with little background in Islam, its pretty ugly and kind of a bust if you’ve been to cities like Cairo and Istanbul. After returning the rental car – what an ordeal – we had a nice lunch at the ridiculously tacky Mall of the Emirates at Après, where we overlooked the infamous Ski Dubai indoor ski slope. This is the epitome of absurdity and the essence of Dubai – snow skiing in the desert. We then ended our day in Old Dubai, the most interesting part of the city by far. We wandered the formidable gold souq and the spice souq, I tried on a man’s kandoora and kifeyah (pictures to come shortly) and we ended with a nice vista of the creek and the dhows that serve as a marked contrast to the vast wealth of the city as they plied the waters alongside gleaming white yachts.

Still, the ultimate in tacky was our chocolate fondue fountain for two at the Burj al Arab, the world’s finest luxury hotel, with a seven-star rating and enough gold adornments to impress even Donald Trump. While the exterior of the hotel is elegant and impressive, the interior pays homage to Saudi-style glitz and gaudiness. What better way to take it in than with $70 dessert – because we felt that getting chocolate for that price was far better than getting a single cocktail at the rooftop bar. After dessert – which was delicious – Natalia and I wandered the hotel, the spa and ran from a guard as we tried to sneak a peak at a guest room. You see, to get into the Burj to even take a gander at it, you need a reservation, as there are guards and vehicle barricades at the entrance to the driveway. We rolled up in a classy purple Mitsubishi with grey bumpers chauffeured by Vero’s friend Lauren. We then ended our trip lounging along the beach at Barasti in the Dubai Marina with views of the Palm Island, currently under construction.

So there you have it, a whirlwind tour of Dubai and Oman. We saw quite a bit and even managed some relaxation. I don’t think I feel a need to return to Dubai anytime soon, however, I would like to go back in 10 years and see what it looks like when all of the current projects are completed. Apparently, the present-day city only represents 1/10 of the Sheikh’s grand plan for the city. Natalia predicts that the bubble is bound to burst, and I tend to agree. Still, the growth in the Emirates is impressive. With oil set to run out in a mere 5 years, only about 5% of the country’s GDP is currently generated by the black gold. Tacky or not, Dubai has transformed the economy of the UAE and demonstrated that oil revenues can fund long-term sustainable growth and economic boom.

(For those of you not in the know…Natalia was calling to confirm our reservations at the Burj, spelling her last name when she got to O, she said, ‘that’s O as in OPEC’ and I knew right then and there that I had to use this as the title for this entry)

Like Samuel Huntington, I Too Forgot About Africa...

2008-01-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

But the comparisons should stop there please. Yes, Huntington might have forgotten to include a continent of 800 million people in his Clash of Civilizations, I simply forgot to blog about my weekend in Marrakech. I believe there is a slight difference. Oh yeah - and he's a racist swine.

But I digress...as many of you know I spent a short weekend in Marrakech with my friend and namesake Stephen just before returning home to the States for the holidays. For just £37 round trip, we were whisked away on Ryanair to exotic North Africa where we indulged in a favourable exchange rate, delicious fresh orange juice and an afternoon at the spa. In a short 3 days we managed to cover a large portion of the medina including the spectacular Ben Youssef Madrasa, the Koutoubia Mosque and of course the infamous souks and kasbah. The instant we touched down on the continent I felt a wave of excitement at returning to the Islamic world. At the risk of sounding like the Lonely Planet, I can merely describe this part of the world as an indulgence of the senses.

Visually Marrakech sits at the foothills of the snow-capped High Atlas mountains, though despite the height of these peaks, the city itself is bathed in warm sunlight and covered with a thin layer of desert sand. The city itself is a warm ochre colour which changes to deep reds with the setting sun. the squared minarets of its various mosques dotting the horizon and palm groves bring cooler tones to the edges of the African desert.

The sounds of the city are also uniquely Middle Eastern from the sound of snake charmers, as they mesmerise both onlookers and cobras alike, to the hustle and bustle of city that comes to life as the sunlight fades, to my absolute favourite, the Muslim call to prayer which emanates from the towering minarets five times a day at slightly varied intervals so as to flood the city with a reminder of nearly 1,400 years of Islamic history and culture.

The tastes of the city are also in a world of their own. With fresh-squeezed orange juice running a mere $0.50 a glass and mountains of dates and nuts piled high throughout the main square, there is no shortage of snacks. Of course the most amazing taste extravaganza is the night restaurants that are assembled every evening without fail in the same square where the nut vendors, snake charmers and fortune tellers ply their wares. With fresh seafood from the coast, lentil soup, lamb and chicken kebabs and a variety of sweets, this is like a daily festival that brings the city to life with each closing day.

The smells of course are not always pleasant, and there is certainly the occasional whiff of manure or urine - but one can hardly argue that New York and Paris are without their interesting odors. Still, spice markets present scents of jasmine and sage interrupt the less -pleasant smells abruptly and with a unique intensity.

As for touch, well, just check out the picture of the snake in my hand and I think you'll have your answer. People do not hesitate to assault you in broad daylight in a seemingly desperate attempt to sell something or exact a tip. I had more than one animal thrust upon me from a monkey to yes, a snake.

Stephen and I spent most of our time in Marrakech with an Australian and British girl that we met on the flight over - yes, I have to go to Africa to meet native Britons. The girls, Kate and Emma were great fun and together we scoured the medina for Western-style bars. We were also invited to the girls' amazing little riad (a traditional Moroccan mansion that has been converted to a sort-of B&B) for an incredible home-cooked tagine of beef with fresh dates. Hilariously enough, our last night in Marrakech found us in a very trendy little bar near the kasbah where we ran into a group of fellow grad students from the LSE as well as a jazz performer and blues singer from Philadelphia who lives in Marrakech and performs all over the region.

With all this excitement there was only one way to end the trip, and that was with amazing massages at Les Bains de Marrakech (see the link). The place was gorgeous, and after changing into our soft robes we were escorted into a quiet, enclosed atrium lit by candlelight, with a bubbling fountain in the centre filled with rose pedals. Here we sprawled out on terry-cloth daybeds and enjoyed a mysteriously natural breeze and warm mint tea while we waited for our £20/$45 massages.

All in all this was a spectacular weekend and I must say that for a mere £37 I would fly back to Marrakech in a heartbeat!

Now, for the intense posting you've all been waiting for...

2008-01-17T04:38:00.000-08:00

So, as some of you might know, I recently took a little trip to Israel. To further defer actually speaking about my experience in the ‘Holy Land,’ I would first like to say on a somewhat related note that I am a bit closer to settling on a dissertation topic. I believe that I have Israel to thank for this choice, for it was only during my time spent travelling the countryside and taking in the Zionist project that I truly realised the issues that I wanted to tackle in my dissertation, and more broadly in my professional life. As one of my professors recently asserted, ‘choose a subject about which you are truly passionate’. It seems that fate has inevitably guided me back to the Middle East. This is, without a doubt, the most fascinating, awe-inspiring, mind-bogglingly complicated place I have ever been, and I ardently love it. From the depths of the Dead Sea to the heights of Mount Nebo, the Moroccan Kasbah to the Ibn Tulun mosque, I have only scratched the surface of the region, though I feel that I have become deeply entangled in its myriad pleasures, enticements, rewards and indeed struggles. At the heart of this region, of course, lies Israel and the Palestinian Territories. As a student of development, my choices are diverse. I could write about political evolution, democratisation and globalisation, accountability and good governance or even land management and economic reform. In the end, I have chosen to focus on development prospects in Palestine, specifically governance and accountability as they relate to security. In any such study it will be necessary to approach the situation from both the Palestinian and Israeli perspectives as their future prosperity and security are inextricably intertwined. I will of course need to speak with my advisor to codify my choices and fine-tune my thesis, but there you have it in a nutshell.
So then, how did I reach this decision? There were many forces guiding me towards this inevitable conclusion. In the end, two particular experiences from this recent trip stand out. The first is Yad Vashem, the Israeli Holocaust museum outside of Jerusalem. I was incredibly moved by this experience, first of all. In walking through this incredible museum I truly understood the sentiment behind the Zionist movement (even though it predates the Holocaust by nearly a century). In the end, this building is indicative of the greater Israeli state, which necessarily acts as a self-serving piece of propaganda, and an incredible one at that. As the dark, narrow, triangular passageway of the museum reaches the chronological end of the Holocaust, the cold concrete floor is suddenly carpeted and the literal light at the end of the tunnel shines brightly from the elevated exit. As you approach the glass that separates the horrors of the museum from the tranquillity of the Jerusalem hillsides, the walls of the triangle open wide as if pried apart by the hands of God himself. Upon exiting you are treated to a spectacular panoramic view of the lush greenery and rolling slopes of the Israeli state and for an instant, even the most sceptic of visitors understands. Ultimately, however, common sense leads to questioning.
One of my greatest problems with Judaism in America is the sense that to question Israel is somehow to give oneself over to anti-Semitism. Why should it not be possible for me to question the Israeli state, its right to exist and its treatment of the Palestinian people while at the same time recognising the value of its promise to the Jewish people? I don’t believe that these perspectives are mutually exclusive. On paper, the reality is that Israel was created based on a nebulous promise by a British government that had no authority in the region and which later recanted that very declaration in recognition of the violence that Jewish immigration was sparking. However, the facts on the ground, so arduously fashioned over the past sixty years, speak for themselves. Regardless of whether Israel has a right to exist or not, it does, and as Jordan and Egypt have recognised, it’s not going anywhere. That said, the Palestinians too have a right to exist, have a right to that land and are equally unmoveable. Still, the successive Israeli governments have done everything in their power to remove Palestinians from their own homes. From the terrorist tactics employed by Menachim Begin and the Irgun to the land grab associated with the recent ‘Separation Wall’ (which is built 80% upon Palestinian land and cost 502 Palestinian lives in its construction), Israel has pursued illegal and inhumane practices throughout the history of the occupation.
The second ‘experience’ that truly gave me pause came about as I looked out over that countryside, at the lush greenery that looked more like Southern California than the Middle East. I recalled the mythology I was taught in Hebrew school, how successive generations of settlers had created a lush oasis out of an arid desert. This is true, yet at whose expense? When thousands of Palestinians in the West Bank do not have potable water and millions more Jordanians feel the pressure of diminishing resources, is it still acceptable to divert one third of the Jordan River’s flow to water your garden? When one of the major points of contention with Syria is the Golan Heights, source of the Jordan and its precious life-spring, should restraint not be shown in its usage? Just as so many Northeasterners fled the cold winters in New York, New Jersey and New England for the mild weather of the American Southwest and planted green grass and perennial flowers, so too have Eastern European Jews attempted to transplant their climate to the Middle East. It is simply wrong.
At the same time that I was facing these questions, frustrated by the one-sided perspective of many of our speakers, such as Gil Hoffman, I do feel that I was able to reach a better understanding of the Israeli perspective. It was not the choice of immigrant children to settle in Israel and to them being Israeli is as natural as being American is to a second generation Irish immigrant. Still, they must confront the conflict created by their forbearers, as their Palestinian counterparts must deal with the repercussions of their compatriots’ suicide bombings and missile attacks as victims of ‘collateral damage’.
I do appreciate the fact that certain freedoms exist in Israel that do not exist elsewhere in the region. I was able to be openly gay, women were not required or pressured to dress modestly (although the Orthodox Jews are no more open-minded than their conservative Islamic counterparts) and freedom of speech is not punishable by a jail sentence. That said, I’m not sure the value of these freedoms in a society that is willing to oppress over two million of those individuals living under its rule. For Palestinians, mere freedom of movement and access to economic subsistence is sharply limited.
At the end of the day I am plagued by an age-old conundrum that cuts to the core of human nature. How is it that a people who have been marginalised, abused and exterminated for nearly two thousand years turn around and treat others as if they are second-class citizens on their own land? I am not comparing the Israeli occupation to the Holocaust; that would be beyond wrong. I am simply making a point that as former victims, Israelis – Jews, should be far more sensitive to the needs and indeed the dreams of the Palestinian people who wish for no more than a return to their ancestral homeland. I hope that my dissertation research will help me to better understand the complexities of co-existence that define the daily struggle for survival in Israel and the Palestinian Territories. If you have any questions regarding other aspects of my trip, please ask me, I am happy to share. I apologise if this seems like a diatribe against the Israeli State, it is not intended as such. I am simply venting a bit of pent-up frustration. I am grateful for Birthright for providing me with this opportunity. I am endlessly thankful to my amazing guides, Effy, Niv, Amit and our indefatigable driver Shemi. These are people who deserve security, peace and happiness. They truly love their country and they are certainly not responsible for every last policy implemented by their government. As an American, I should be most well aware of this distinction. This is not an easy situation and no one side is innocent. Outside actors complicate matters by imposing their will, lending preferential treatment (why does a country as developed as Israel remain the largest recipient of US foreign aid) or failing to mediate effectively. I do believe in my conversations with Israelis and Palestinians that both sides desire peace. The terms of that peace are contentious and sacrifices will be necessary on both sides, but the optimist in me believes that it is possible. Still, one single comment remains perhaps the most guilt-inducing of all when, at the end of an intense conversation with my friend Palestinian friend Yazan, he commented simply, “I wish we had a Birthright.”

Please do the job that the American media does not an inform yourself as to the actual facts on the ground, not merely the facts that AIPAC and the American political machine would like you to see. Check the links section of my blog for several resources and stay tuned for further updates as I begin researching my dissertation topic. The documentary video is particularly powerful, and, if it doesn't cause you to question Israeli policy and American complicity, then I question your rationality.

Being American in an Age of GLOBAL Ignorance...

2008-01-16T01:03:00.001-08:00

Like most Americans, and citizens of our broader global community, I have been closely monitoring the progress of the Presidential elections in the United States. As I’m sure I’ve said repeatedly, I am a supporter of Dennis Kucinich at heart, though my more pragmatic self will ultimately support Hillary Clinton. At this most critical juncture in my country’s history, I do believe we have an incredible opportunity to redeem ourselves as a beacon of morality and paragon of benevolent hegemony in an age of unprecedented scepticism and distaste for American imperial ambitions. There is much to be done at home, as well as abroad. We must strive to repair our reputation and remind the world that we indeed pioneered many of the principles of good governance and human justice that we seem to flout at present. While I will be the first person to admit that many of my fellow Americans are frighteningly apathetic, ignorant, woefully uninformed and frustratingly nationalistic, my continued optimism in America’s potential is based upon my experience with an equally self-aware, intelligent, creative and outward-looking electorate – yes, I’m speaking about Democrats. But all joking aside, the life of an American abroad represents a daily challenge in excusing the poor policies of my government while trying to act as a cultural ambassador for the segment of American society that I know and love. I find this task endlessly frustrating and, at times, downright maddening. The other night, for instance, I found myself with two Canadian friends at a café in Soho having a midnight snack. The Moroccan woman sitting next to me, who was admittedly slightly insane, showered me with stream of backhanded compliments relating to my nationality. “You speak a foreign language? Three no less! I’ve never met an American who speaks anything but English, how rare!” I’m sorry, but my America is a multicultural, pluralistic society and I am continuously aggravated by having to explain the simple fact that labelling 300 million citizens as a homogenously ignorant group is itself an exercise in bigotry and yes, ignorance. Does privilege automatically render the US a legitimate victim of attack? My America is a country that respects human rights and believes in the equality of all people. My America is black, white and every colour in between. My America is gay pride parades, marches for women’s lives and the ACLU. My America is my capital, my home. Washington, DC has more PhDs per capita than any other city on the planet. My America produced the lost generation, Rothko, Ginsberg. It gave refuge to Einstein and liberated Europe. My America is one of dual nationals who choose to retain their citizenship despite cumbersome taxes and unrelenting criticism. Clearly we have something going for us, and I for one find pride in my roots.
That said, my pride would suffer a great deal should Mike Huckabee win the election. It will suffer if we enter into a military confrontation with Iran, and it will suffer if we continue to turn our backs on the victims of global injustice. Still, I believe in my country, and I would ask all likeminded Americans whose current anger and frustration stems from their passionate belief in what our nation could be, to stand up for your reputation and prove ignorant individuals around the world wrong. It is time we regained our pride, Bush has taken so much from us – our reputation should be defended to the end.

I'm back...and not a moment too soon

2007-12-09T07:50:00.000-08:00

Several of my most avid readers, and dearest fans, have pointed out to me that I have been neglecting my blog recently. While my parents have happily embraced my laziness to post as a sign that I am happy here in London, others of you have lamented the fact that you have been unable to keep tabs on the fascinating developments of my life here in the UK. I had planned on writing at some point this week after the work calmed down and sitting in Caffé Nero, trying to edit my final paper of the term, I was finally forced to get up and leave at the risk of punching the ignorant American sitting at the table next to me. Needing to rant and having not a soul to listen to me, I thought that I might take a few minutes away from my work and update you, my nearest and dearest, as to what is going on in my life.

First, let me begin with my twenty-second rant. Apparently this all-wise American felt that French is a useless language to learn - how American a perspective indeed. Aside from his obviously erroneous statements regarding the limited number of French-speaking states (more countries cite French as an official language than any other), I was struck by the very contradiction of his assessment. In this man's mind, Spanish, Arabic or Chinese seemed far more appropriate languages for the global citizen of the 21st century to learn. While French might have certain snobbish roots in European aristocracy as the Latin of the 18th and 19th centuries, it is important to note that the utility of any language is dictated first and foremost by the aim of the speaker. It is only natural that an American would give precedence to Spanish as a solid 13% of the American population is Spanish-speaking. That said, London has a Francophone community in excess of 300,000 people. In fact, it is has the third largest French population of any city on Earth after Paris and Lyon. As a speaker of Arabic, Spanish, English and French, I can say with conviction that French is and will remain for some time an incredibly relevant and important language in international politics, finance and culture. Did I mention that it's pretty to listen to as well?

Alright, I'm finished with my 'holier than thou diatribe' and ready to get to the point. The winter has set in here in London and the days are dismally short. The sun rises just before 8AM and sets no later than 4PM, on a sunny day. When the clouds have already choked out what brief hours of sunlight we have, it can feel like night as early as 3 in the afternoon. Then again, I was always more of a nightowl. I don't actually mind the short days that much, and they are tempered by far more moderate weather than we would have on the East Coast of the US or the continent just next door. Besides, I can look forward to the summer months when the sun illuminates the sky as late as 11PM, it's a trade-off, I suppose.

As my first semester of classes comes to end, I feel that I have learned quite a bit here at the LSE and I very much look forward to next semester's courses. I've written several papers, this final one that I'm polishing off right now discusses information intervention in conflict-related disaster zones. For those of you who are familiar with the film Hotel Rwanda, this would refer to the Radio Television Libre des Mille Collines (French, HA!) and its incendiary calls to the Hutu population to massacre their Tutsi neighbours. Basically the idea is that the international community should have the right to jam such broadcasts due to their direct and public incitement to widespread crimes against humanity and in this case, genocide.

Not all of my classes have been so productive my; Arabic class in particular seems to be quite poorly conceived. The students are at all levels and we are covering materials that I learned my first year with Hannah Zabarah at Georgetown. We are even referring to the same text book with some frequency. That said, I suppose that it's better to have some weekly exposure to the language than none at all. I plan on looking elsewhere in the spring for a more advanced course, potentially in Egyptian dialect at SOAS. Until then, I rely on Ahmed and his friends to help me out with my spoken Arabic.

In other news...I was in the States for a week as many of you know, which was a nice break from the short days here in London, and more importantly from the ever worsening dollar exchange rate. I can't express to you how much it hurts to spend $200 on four rounds of drinks and entrance to a club for two people - and trust me, it was not the poshest club in town. For those of you who don't quite understand how bad it truly is, please refer to this week's issue of The Economist, which depicts George Washington piloting a plane, engulfed in flames as it plummets to the ground - they were never ones for subtlety. All of this only reinforces my desire to seek employment in the UK for a while; it couldn't hurt to be paid in the world's strongest currency, right? As such, I have begun the long and arduous task of looking for employment. The problem is that most Think Tanks and NGOs will only post job openings a month or so prior to filling the position and so I am reticent to start the search immediately as I clearly cannot begin a job that soon. That said, I have several places that I am considering. I am applying to many of the media outlets, such as the BBC, Sky, Al-Jazeera and The Economist (aka my Bible). I think that each of these would provide a terrific opportunity to get some travel in, meet interesting people, and do some investigative work. In addition, I will be applying to the International Institute for Strategic Studies, which organised the recent summit in Bahrain at which Robert Gates tried to convince us that American policies towards Iran are not completely defined by incompetence, poor communication and a desire to drive our country further into debt and financial ruin. I am also looking at the British Department for International Development (DFID). I have not ruled out going elsewhere, and I am contemplating several jobs in Egypt and Qatar, though while I could spend years in Cairo, I don't know what my endurance would be in Doha...though Georgetown has a campus there!

And finally, on to my social life. Natalia has made the big move from Canary Wharf to South Kensignton placing her within easy commutable distance to my flat. We have been spending a fair amount of time together, which is fantastic, because god only knows where HSBC will be shipping her off to come July. I have also made a friend or two at the gym, which is good, as I need someone to help spot me. Otherwise, I find myself socialising with Phil and my friend Matt quite a bit, including our weekly Friday trips to Borough Market to stock up on local produce. I find that getting out in London is easy, despite the cost, and as time goes by I have discovered some more cost-effective venues, including Phil, Carlos, Matt and my current favourite, Popstarz, in Kings Cross. Free entry before 11, two for one drinks and amazing music that would make any gay boy wet himself with glee. I've also found a few more posh watering holes including a place called the Green Carnation which has a fantastic atmosphere, even if the beers are £6. All of this is to say that I am quite happy here and, as I continue to meet new people and try new venues, I learn that London is absolutely one of the world's greatest cities. I encourage each of you to come visit, better yet move here, any time, I plan on staying put for a bit.

There will be more postings coming soon, especially after this coming weekend's trip to Marrakech with my friend Stephen as well as my New Years Zionist extravaganza to Israel - fight the indoctrination, fight the indoctrination...so stay tuned!!

Two Years of Experience...

2007-10-28T12:00:00.000-07:00

Bureaucracy is an interesting thing, especially at the international level. We complain incessently about its ubiquity and yet it seems nearly impossible to become a member of this elusively nebulous entity. Yesterday was International Orgnisations Day here at the LSE, and of course I attended so as to learn more about the potential employment opportunities with the World Bank, United Nations and other similar international orgnisations. What I came away with was a sense of frustration, for while nearly all of these organisations require two years of working experience, they don't really know where to suggest you go about getting that experience. When my friend Anthony, the 27 year old Rhodes Scholar PhD, told me that out of the 30 jobs he applied to in London he was offered two, I became further disheartened. I know that I could get a job in Washington, I have the connections and the qualifications for any number of entry/mid-level positions with a variety of NGOs and think tanks, but that's not what I want. I want to stay in London. So how does one stay in London, get a job for the requisite two years experience and then go about remianing competitive in the application process with individuals who have many more years under thier belts? The answer is not so readily discovered.

That said, the United Nations Secretariat does allow students holding a simple bachelors degree to apply, as does UN Volunteers, and so I am applying. Of course, the problem with the UN Secretariat is that they would place me in NYC or Geneva, two cities in which I currently have little desire to live. I want to stay in the UK, and then I want to do field work for a number of years before settling in DC. Perhaps my problem is that I am far too particular as to where I would like my future to take me, but one has to have a plan, even if things don't necessarily follow that plan perfectly.

So here I am, applying to the UN, a decision that was aided by the fact that they will most likely not accept American applicants next year as there are quotas to be filled. What I would really like to do is work for the African Development Bank, then the United Nations Development Programme and end up at the World Bank. I am working things out in my head and there are options, but still, the sheer difficulty and daunting nature of this process is starting to weigh on me....

So I decided that I would end International Organisations Day with a knod to my favourite holiday back stateside, Halloween. I met up with Anthony and his boyfriend Andrew and we hopped a train down to Elephant & Castle in 'Souf London' where we enjoyed copious amounts of wine amongst some nice Brits and Americans. After that it was all the way to the other side of town to a party in Hammersmith, the blow-out party to end all Halloween parties. The bloke who threw this one dropped £8,000 on drinks - which meant fancy bartenders and amazing cocktails at his £4 million pad overlooking the Thames (see above picture). This place was amazing, with floating staircases, concrete floors and multi-level decks overlooking the river below. He even had a built-in club-quality sound system, private DJ and theatrical lighting. How the hell do I find these things? Fabulous friends, thats how. We met up with my friend Ryan, whose client was hosting said party. Everyone was in fancy dress (aka costumes) and enjoying themselves quite a bit. I was dressed as Mel Gibson's mug shot complete with name plaque and messed up hair wig. Anthony was a doctor, Andrew a convict and Ryan was donning a Ghostbuster suit. Still, we had nothing on some costumes. One guy had fake tatoos all up and down his arms and another guy was carrying a sicle that had to be a 3 feet long - still, my favourite was the papier maché Slimer costume.

I woke up feeling ill, but it was worth it for a taste of good old American-style Halloween. The funny thing about the holiday here in Britain is that there are some who will randomly dress up, though they represent a distinct minority. Thus when riding the tube you'll see a random guy with deep flesh wounds or blood-spattered overalls, a horrendous transvestite or Margeret Thatcher look alike, and you won't think, "Oh it's Halloween, how creative" but rather, "is that a costume or should I be moving down a train car?"

Finally, I feel that I should mention an interesting fact that I learned during the course of my evening. There are 850 Georgetown alumni living and working in London, and that doesn't include Anthony, myself or any of my friends who were unaware of how to join the list serve. This is a huge population with a new president who happened to be at the first party. She informed us that there will be many upcoming events, so let the networking (and hopefully job offers) begin! At the second party there was yet another Georgetowner, a girl from my class as a matter of fact. I meet her just in time as Michael is coming to visit on Thursday and she happens to be an adorable blonde-haired Kennedy. What can I say, I have amazing timing. So between my fellow Georgetowners and former DC connections, perhaps we can find away around this two years relevant experience - or at least a nice job in London that pays me in pounds while I wait for the UN/AfDB to come through...

I'm back!

2007-10-10T01:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've last posted to this blog, which I would propose is indicative of my wild and crazy social life - or my internet connectivity issues. Why can't it be both? Since last I wrote a great deal has happened, so humor me as I attempt to highlight the best moments, and perhaps the worst as well.

First, and perhaps most importantly, classes have finally begun. The LSE has an odd system whereby we have a 'shopping period' of about a month during which time we are encouraged to try as many classes as we like. There are drawbacks as well as perks to this system - namely that I learned the evils of a certain course on Development Economics before it was too late. At the same time, as an American I enjoy knowing where I stand, explicitness (if that's even a word), I'm what Bill Easterly might call a 'Planner' - minus the pejorative connotations. As such I have essentially chosen the courses that I plan to take and attended only those lectures. As it stands today I am taking my required core development class, DV400, titled Development Theory, History and Practice, which is actually quite interesting. In addition I have a required class for my dissertation. Beyond that my third and final class of this semester will be 'Complex Emergencies', which looks at the consequences and causes of humanitarian disasters and the effects of various interventions, with a focus on Africa. In the spring I will take the companion course, titled 'Managing Humanitarianism' which will look at humanitarian assistance and intervention while assessing the tensions between the two. Whereas the first course looks at the conflicts internally, this second half will address the aid workers, journalists, government officials and other individuals from the outside and their dealings with these crises. In addition this spring I will take a course devoted specifically to African Development and a final course called 'Cities, Culture and Politics in the South' which is exactly what it sounds like, a look at life in what is commonly known in the development field as the 'global south' a reference which points to the correlation between more tropical climates and lower levels of economic development. This is an especially interesting year to take such a course as for the first time in human history mankind's population concentration has become predominantly urban. Many people have asked me why in my new course of study I have chosen Africa instead of the Middle East as my area of focus. For one, the LSE simply offers better classes on the region. More importantly, however, is the fact that Africa poses the greatest development challenges in the world today. It is the poorest continent on Earth, yet it is also the most diverse, linguistically, culturally and religiously. Africa is plagued by what many would consider a 'resource curse' whereby abundant natural resources are coopted by those in power to maintain control as warlords and corrupt dictators plunder the vast material wealth so as to ensure a constant influx of money that has supported decades of civil wars since the end of colonial rule. I believe that this curse can be made into a blessing, lifting Africa out of the poverty that it has known at the hands of Europeans and its own corrupt rulers alike. Finally, I feel that my own academic aptitude will only be enhanced by a broader sphere of knowledge. Interestingly enough there is a great deal of interplay between the politics of the Middle East and Africa, especially along the often tumultuous divide between North and Sub-Saharan Africa where countries like the Sudan and Nigeria have found themselves divided between two distinct cultures.

Enough about academics, however, lets move on. The past week has been full of fantastic - and not so fantastic social events. First I feel I should mention the Sugarbabes concert which was absolutely ridiculous. The Sugarbabes, for those of you who don't know, are the number one group in Britain right now with their song 'About You Now'. It's poppy and I love it. I went with a gaggle of about 10 gays to G-A-Y (The Club) for a concert that was packed to the rafters. While doors opened at 10:30 and we arrived at midnight, those bitches didn't grace us with their presence until a little after 1:30 - and we still had to sit there for an opening act! Whatever, we had a great, though exhausting time. The other big event was Mind the Gap, the LSE LGBT party here on campus. While I didn't really meet anyone new, I had a good group with me and we certainly enjoyed ourselves. There is something novel about a university that is willing to host parties of any kind (though especially a giant gay mixer) with freely-flowing alcohol, right on campus in its student union. We had some other good nights out including a trip to a dance club called Trash Palace, which was incredibly hot and sweaty but crazy fun, though I'm still not quite sure where all the jello shots were coming from...

Other highlights include Terry's visit, and as I type Tommy, guest number two is sleeping in my flat. Terry and I were quite good about shopping, I was actually blown away by his self-control. He did, however, manage to find two fabulous items. The first was a pair of vintage cowboy boots in Camden Town, and the second was a sweatshirt that read "Sit On It" - how could one resist such an off-colour purchase? Camden Town, by the way, is terribly fun with more kitsch than you can imagine as well as some fun crafts and a great set of international food stalls. We had West African curried goat for lunch, but there was also South Korean, Japanese, Moroccan, French, traditional British and god only knows what else, all next to one another made fresh by locals from those various countries and set out in a steaming buffet-style presentation. Terry's second purchase was made in our friend Phil's neighborhood near Liverpool Station in East London. This is Jack the Ripper's old stomping ground (as you can see by the nightly tours winding their way through the narrow streets). Today, however, it is a bustling bohemian area of town that is evocative of Columbia Heights-Petworth or Brooklyn. There is another great market, the Spitafields Market, with some really interesting local artists and designers displaying their wares, as well as more food! I must say, London has better markets with more diverse offerings sprinkled from end to end of this city than any place else I've ever been.

As for eating, well, the national cuisine has got to be considered Indian food. I recently heard that curry houses actually outnumber pubs now and the Britons know their curries. Phil's neighborhood is actually also home to Brick Lane, London's famous street of Punjabi and Bangladeshi eateries. As you walk down the street the patrons of these restaurants will entice you to come in with offers of "a free pint of beer" or "30% off your meal", you have to negotiate to get the best price, but the reward is well worth it. For Terry's last night in town we did the Chinatown thing and went for some crispy aromatic duck, which we were later told is a total and complete local fabrication intended to appeal to the British palate - it was still damned good.

Of course there was more to Terry's visit than shopping the markets and overeating at Indian joints. We also toured the British Museum and Tate Modern, one of my favourites. I am planning to go back to the British Museum soon to get tickets to the exhibit on China's Terracotta Army. The King Tut exhibit that was touring the states is soon to arrive as well. As for Tate Modern, they have recently unveiled their newest installation, a giant crack down the length of the massive turbine hall that starts as a hairline fracture and widens to a fairly impressive crevice by the end. Tommy and I saw this new installation yesterday as a matter of fact before meeting friends of his at the 7th floor cafe for cocktails. The cafe was actually the site employed for the filming of Woody Allen's Match Point, where a makeshift apartment was constructed with sweeping views of the city. I must say, it is one of my new favourite places in town, the views are simply breathtaking. The London Eye may offer comparable vistas, however, you have to pay an absurd amount for it, whereas at Tate Modern that same money buys you a drink and cheese platter minus the obnoxious camera clicks.

More to come on classes once I have a better sense of things as well as some further observations on hidden treasures in the big smoke. Stay tuned...

Cross-Country Road Trip Anyone?

2007-09-29T16:11:00.001-07:00

Spontanaiety is a wonderful thing, however, one must remember the potential pitfalls that accompany any half-hashed plan. Today's grand idea materialized over drinks last night and, despite some hiccups along the way, did ultimately come to fruition. The initial proposal was simple enough, a day-trip to Bath in the west of the country near Wales. By about 2 AM last night, when trains were pricing out around 45 quid per person, hope began to fade. Then Aaron had the idea that we rent a car and simply make the 100 or so mile drive to Bath ourselves. This seemed like a decent enough idea and certainly solved the price problem.

So, at 9 AM, not so bright eyed and bushy tailed, we gathered in the computer room and made our reservations with Alamo rental cars. By 11 we had eaten a light breakfast and taken the underground to Kings Cross where we were to pick up the car, simple enough, right? It never is, as any seasoned traveller will tell you. The queu at the rental car company was 20 people long and ended up taking well over an hour. One disgruntled customer, having had his fill of waiting, very politely lifted up the ticket dispenser and excused himself as he manouevered through the crowd. Upon exiting the building his composure dissappeared to be replaced with rage as he smashed it against the ground and ran off up the street - I would soon come to understand his outburst, and how British it seemed to so politely traverse the crowd before his breakdown.

I was thankful for the momentary excitement that broke the monotony of our wait. Once we reached the desk we signed the relevant forms, as well as a £550 insurance deposit, and took possession of our tiny little manual transmission POS. But we had specifically requested an automatic! After another 20 minutes or so we were finally on the road, slightly terrified at the prospect of having to collect on our insurance policy as we began to traverse the busy London streets. I feel that I should mention at this juncture the fact that we were three Americans and two Canadians, none of whom were intimately familiar with the English road network or driving on the opposite (read: WRONG) side of the street. Still, we were determined to reach Bath, and reach Bath we did.

At about 3:30 that day we pulled into the town and parked in a car park. The weather was overcast, but having navigated our way across the Island we were confident and determined to make the most of our limited time. Bath is an absolutely beautiful city built almost entirely out of white limestone, with architectural features more reminiscent of provincial France than of England. Our only stop, given our late arrival and the fact that Bath is incredibly expensive, was to the town's namesake Roman baths. They were actually quite gorgeous, though after about an hour hunger pangs had gotten the better of us. The beauty of living in a country like Britain which has non-descript indigenous cuisine is that you never feel guilty for choosing an import over the native cooking. Thai for dinner it was. After being turned away from one restaurant for lack of reservations we managed to sweet talk our way into another. Finish the day off with an ice cream cone and we were reenrgized for the drive back to London.

Thanks to a lack of speed restrictions we cruised back to the capital at an average of around 100 MPH in a quick two hours. Still, London traffic delayed our final return as we battled the crowds in Knightsbridge and Charing Cross. How impressed we were with ourselves for sucessfully navigating our way back to the rental location. I must conclude by saying that driving in the UK is not as hard as it looks, in fact, it is much like riding a bike, with a few exceptions and slightly more dangerous/expensive consequences for a job poorly done.

In the end we had a fabulous time and learned quite a bit about one another. It was funny to think that we met less than a week ago. The road trip itself was perhaps more interesting and enjoyable than the actual destination. There will most definitely be many more trips to come, England has a great deal to offer and it seems I've found some stellar travel companions with whom I might explore it.

Fortune's a whore...

2007-09-28T07:20:00.000-07:00

Or so says my friend Chad, which I'm guessing means that he lost the $150 he had won at the casino last night. Yes, it was an absurd evening that involved bartering over the cover for a variety of bars, dancing the night away and yes, gambling. Our group has broadened a bit from the beginning, and once again I feel like a member of the freshman herd, with slightly more mature adults, slightly.

As you have probably heard, I will do anything to escape the squalor of my room as I continue to live out of suitcases awaiting my big move on Sunday. Still, I couldn't hold out forever and today I went grocery shopping with my friend Aaron. When I say grocery shopping, I mean British-style at what is generally accepted as one of the world's truly great markets, the Borough Market. From homemade breads and local british cheeses to a fresh juice bar and organic eggs and beef, the market has everything. There are ducks and rabbits strung up above the counters as well as a counter of at least ten different sea salts from Portugal. The best part is that when you are buying Spanish saffron you are buying it from Spaniards, and when you buy French cheese you had better believe its being sold by one of our neighbors from across the channel, having been produced locally on small farms in the French countryside. The prices aren't cheap, but they are no worse than at the local Sainsbury's and the atmosphere is just fantastic. This is the way people have shopped for groceries in Europe for centuries and they carry on the tradition with gusto. I was actually able to speak Spanish to my olive oil vendor and French to my cheese vendor, oh yes, and I tried it all before I bought it. I always think to myself how unfortunate it is for those of you who don't live in a place like this who are unable to buy the amazing food and cook a fresh, organic meal with ingredients grown that very day from across the continent. (This comment is directed at Dad for all the years at Georgetown that you would tell me how wonderful your Sunday dinner was going to be, knowing that I didn't have the time to drive to Baltimore for it, well Dad, my market puts your Wegmans to shame, so there!) You'll just have to come visit and buy the Turkish delight or homemade jam from the monasteries of Italy. It only goes to show the great tradition of internationalism so cherished by the British. Once again they have proven that that which they do not themselves master they will absolutely seek out from those who do.

Now that I have food and a teeny, tiny kitchen I have to figure out how to cook it. But first I think I'll take a nap, after all, I'm already registered for class and the weekend is here! Tonight there is an event at LSE after which I plan on hitting the bars with my friend Carlos who has moved here from Paraguay via a long hiatus in DC as well as Zlatko a Macedonian who also arrived recently from the District. If I can say one thing about Washington, it certainly provided me with enough contacts to start a life anywhere on Earth that I may choose.

Am I back in Paris?

2007-09-26T10:22:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not. I love Paris, but London has proven far more liveable thus far. Still, my six months in France seem to loom large in the back of my mind. Not only have I just opened a new bank account at HSBC, the same bank I used in Paris, I also have an Orange cell phone, yes, the very same service I used across the channel. Fortunately my gym is not a sauna, and my banker is way cuter. Yes, Mohammad and I are hopefully going to see far more of each other in the coming months...you know I have a weakness for the Arabs.

That said, I'm having a fabulous though hectic time of it here. There is so much to accomplish and while I first thought that I had all the time in the world, I am quickly realizing just how much I really must get done in the next few days. Fortunately I have the phone and the bank account, I've joined a gym and I have my oyster card for the London transport network. I still have to move into my new room on Sunday which will have a king-size bed! There is also the not-so-small feat of registering for classes which I must do tomorrow.

First thing is first, however, and that's making new friends. I met some great people last night at the Brazilian club and tonight I shall be playing with them prior to another LSE-sponsored event. I've even made a straight male friend, go figure. The problem with London is that there is just too much to do and see and not enough time and money to do it all. As I told Tommy today, my neighborhood is like an odd combination of the Theatre District, Soho, The UES and the Village. Yes, we have gays, theatres, clubs, shops and a terrific market. London is actually the perfect fit for me, its a happy medium between Europe and the US, Washington and New York. Of course there are things that I miss, you can never take everything with you, but the beauty of travel and living abroad is that you are exposed to that which might otherwise remain foreign and unknown. Even the experiences that will soon become annoyance initially seem novel and thrilling, met with a sense of accomplishment upon successful completion. Take the purchase of linens today which involved searching through catalogues, taking down numbers then paying in advance and awaiting delivery. Not your everyday Bed Bath & Beyond, but it worked quite well and I was proud of myself for not strangling the screaming toddler behind me in line!

All this is to say that which most of you already know about me, I love to try new things and soak up new cultures. First however, I plan to soak up some local flavors, beginning with a trip to the liquor store followed by dinner. You've gotta love the pub culture and the amazing selection of beers from across the planet. Still, perhaps the most exciting of all was my discovery of a Paul right here in Covent Garden, Samantha will know what I'm talking about (and you'd better believe that you were the first person that popped into my mind, Sam, when I saw that tell-tale black sign). Exciting as this discovery was, I was devastated to find that they were no longer serving my favorite tuna sandwhich after the gym today. I guess there are some things that I will always miss about America, starting with 24 hour businesses and the beauty of never missing a meal because you are too late in the day!

Settling in . . . to poverty

2007-09-25T11:49:00.000-07:00

So I've surrendered to popular pressure and decided to blog about my move to London. The blog seemed to be relatively popular during my time in Paris and it has the added benefit of saving me from the banalities of constant repitition which I'm certain grates on those who are forced to listen to slightly varied iterations of the same story for hours on end.

That said, I've finally arrived after a pleasant flight from BWI to Heathrow, and yes, to answer all of your questions, London is bloody expensive-to put it mildly. Sure, you might live in New York or San Francisco, you might pay $12 for a cocktail at Halo or Be Bar in DC, but when was the last time that cab fare from the airport ran you $180? No really, thats not an exaggerration, if anything, I've lowballed the number based on the most recent exchange rates. Try this one on for size, my burger last night cost me £7, yes, that's a $15 burger. I will say this, it was absolutely delicious, in fact, it may have been the best burger I've eaten in recent memory.

This brings me to my next point. While cost of living is certainly unsurpassed by any other city I've visited, you are certainly getting more bang for your buck. Cynics may say what they like, but what Britain lacks in edible indiginous cuisine, it more than makes up for in imported delicacies. I have yet to check out the Indian food since my last visit, but there are literally millions of cafes, restaurants and eateries across the city. From chains like GBK (The Gourmet Burger Kitchen, site of my infamously prices dinner yesterday evening) to cute little French bistros and Mongolian BBQs, this city has everything.

And finally I might add that diversity is perhaps the greatest asset that London boasts. Walking down the street yesterday I heard Arabic, French, Spanish (from Latin Ameica!), Chinese, Farsi and a host of tongues I wouldn't dare to even try to identify. London is the melting pot that America often imagines itself to be, and is all the stronger and more interesting for it. It's a place that has managed to maintain its culture, sense of self and identity while simultaneously embracing the world around it unlike anywhere else on Earth.

I look forward to the coming year with great anticipation and great anxiety. If real life here in the UK is anything like the honeymoon period, I may never want to leave. Now its off to hobnob with the other postgrads and hopefully make some new friends at a local Brazilian club. Please everyone, post your comments and questions, come and visit, and don't be a stranger! I miss you all like crazy, and don't worry, a part of my heart will always remain with my favorite people in the world and in my favorite city, DC. I love you all!