In June of 04, I started making new friends in my new city. I had to park my car at a friend's house because I had not found the free parking I had heard about. A parking pass cost $90/mo, and with an intern's income I needed to save all I got. Soon, I met some neighbors from outside the US, who helped me figure out how to live in DC.
The internship was more the experience that I needed, than what I had originally thought. Despite being a long-standing firm in my field of interest, this company had not made the right friends, right decisions, or right changes to survive under the new Administration, and in the changing field. In the few months before I arrived the last of their existing contracts had all ended. They had gotten to 12 from like 300 from 1000 from 3000 employees, and from running projects all over the world, and from renting several floors from an entire mid-size office building to one tiny office, and 2 tiny contracts, but a lot of great ideas, and a lot of knowledge.
They were so quiet about it all I never seemed to get the whole story, all I saw was a shelf-full of bold contract proposals that had been awarded one by one to incompetents headed for failure in a field they knew nothing about, really. Yeah, Bechtel, Halliburton, and their subcontractors aka Halliburton and Bechtel, and friends got all of the Iraq reconstruction projects, and traditional, post-conflict reconstruction experts, with experience in conflict zones like Kosovo and Serbia and experience in building institutions and in structuring transitional economies to the realities of capitalism, from experience in Kazakhstan, Moldova, Macedonia, Albania, and much more were rejected. The proposals were thick, designed by all the right experts from the US and abroad. In part, I think that some of us trusted Washington to get the job done right after really whupping Saddam Hussein.
My boss never complained or said anything negative, it comes with the territory that proposals don't all get approved. But I did not like it that they had been turned down for firms who had always been more dedicated to monopolizing developing countries than building economies, and to findging oil fields, and speculation than to building hospitals, infrastructure, and formal trade, which they all semm to have entirely failed at, much to the loss of millions of dollars, and much more. I think that these guys would have been able to do a better job. The security and political situation in Iraq, just like here, is a side note to important social issues like economic development, public health, public morality and education.
So, I helped make binders for the conflict resolution courses we were doing, with a national government contract (one of the 2 tiiny ones). I guess it is a part of the government where there are people who need training in the same types of things that post-war countries might need. Can you guess? Yeah, if you search your news-memory, it might come to mind. No? The Postal Service. It was interesting. I learned a lot at this job. I learned that times change, and that creativity and innovation is useful and valued in more than just high technology, and simultaneously that placing your self-worth in your profession is a dangerous way of living, especially when your failure can come not because you weren't good enough, but because of "fuerzas mayores".
I was at an intern meeting one time, and asked the room if anyone was interested in joining me on a road-trip to Vermont. I got blank stares from the kids who were spending the summer watching TV or movies, or at the gym. But one of them, asked if he could come along, and was extremely excited. It was time for a journey.
The first night was spent gettting lostt in New Jersey (stupid Jersey!) trying to stay off the toll roads, and get through that place without spending money on something that out west is always free. We arrived at his "brother's" house late that night, and got together with this guy and some buddies of his, and watched them get drunk on a beach across from Long Island, and behind some permanent carnival ground. I want to say it was Palisades park, but I don't think so. It was called Roy or something. Next morning, through Connecticut, we stopped and admired Yale. You would never know that it wasn't more than just some row houses if you hadn't been there, and you'd never have found it without a map if you didn't ask someone. It was definitely not what I had expected. And there were some old churches, and a lot of tennis courts. Detours took us to a few extra corners of Vermont, and that was very much worth it. We arrived some time in Vermont's capital. Visited his old house, where he had grown up. The folks who live there now remembered him, and had kept some of his toys that they found in the garden. Then we went to St. Albans that night to stay at Judy's. We did stop in Sharon, and that was really great for me, I had been there as a child and been bewondered by the forest there that seemed to smother all noise in peaceful silence. It was great as ever, there is a pile of rocks that runs through it, that marks the path of what had been an important route from Montreal to Boston, and is now unrecognizable as such, in a wood, off the path ...
St Albans was as great as ever. It was my first time there. But not the last. We skipped rocks on the lake, and explored a pond, and the backyard with my family. Monday we got up early and drove to Montreal. We drove into town, and realized that that was not going to work. So we went into a suburb and parked, and took the train into town. Much better. All the stress was gone. We visited a Chinese restaurant Judy told us about. Downtown is beautiful there, stone buildings, stone roads, classical architecture, culture, stature. We got a French-language New Testament from a guy on the corner, and visited a very impressive Cathedral on a hill. It was all new, with a classical facade, and artwork that was serious, but very modern. It was P-Day.
Then came the surprise. After waiting on the border all the rest of the day, and waiting in our car on the border forever, we finally got across. We had to be back to work the next day. It was now important that we drive all night, and we were considering whether to stay with his friend outside of NYC again, and get up at 4 or to drive straight through. But that decision was made for us. In our rush to drive each tank of gas to its fullest, and stop the least possible, judgment got a little off. We decided to stop for a minute. While waiting, I thought, well, I'll get some gas instead of just sitting. Time moved so slow that 10 minutes. It was like a deja-vu experience. The key to the bathroom, , the time, the music... I pulled over to the pump that was on the side of the building, and began pumping, until it was full. I drove back over and parked to wait.
The car did not start. I tried, and the battery seemed fine. I am not too much of a techical person, but it seemed as if the engine was flooding. But it was not too hard to figure out what had happened. I got out of the car, and asked the guy inside. And he said, but didn't you buy diesel. No. Well, it must have been the other side of the pump. Oops. Kerosene!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Arghhhhhh!!!!!!!! No!!!!!!!!
My car could not run on Kerosene. We got a garden hose from this very strange old woman next door, and siphoned out as much as we could. I said. Ma'am I need some length of spare hose. She said "on the side of the house", like it was no thing. You cannot siphon too well with a garden hose. It isn't the right tool for what we were doing. My mouth tasted of kerosene, my eyes burned, and my entire head felt oily after an hour or two of emptying this stuff into diesel fuel tank, that the diesel fuel guy had said we could use. So we put in another 3/4 tank worth of unleaded. It was not enough. We rolled down a long hill in jump-start phase, and got nowhere. At the bottom of the hill, just across the river in this Adirondak town just north of Lake George, we slept in the car. I had called my brother who can do anything with technology that anyone could ever need someone to do, but he was available at the lab or at the motel at 8 PM. My friend's confidence in my brother was not so strong, since he barely even knew me!!! His mother was worried as can be, and made me explain to her why I had decided to trust my brother, once I got ahold of him, over the advice of every auto repair shop in town. They were all convinced that we would have to tow it to Albany. Nahh. What for? Aaron had told me exactly what to buy at the hardware store, and what to do if that didn't work. But we agreed to buy this VW fox for $450 if we didn't get it going by 3 PM . It didn't all work, so we did plan b, and it did. So we acquired some buckets, and slowly they filled with fuel. Then we had to get more buckets. We emptied a garbage can. We filled that. Then we got a bunch of gas-cans worth of unleaded. Then we pushed it back and forth on the little parking lot driveway where we were throwing it into first and reverse and making these big chugs, and lurching jerks. We had to force the kerosene out of the fuel lines. I had opened them up, and deemed it too hard to do what Aaron said for plan A on that. After about an hour of that. At 3 PM. We finally got the car started!!! My friend put in his mix CD and we sang along with Queen's "We are the champions" all the way to the next town, where we filled up on gas, and I told our story to the station attendant. He said, so what did you do with all of that kerosene. We left it in some buckets and in a garbage can in a parking lot, I said. You ought to be careful, you can get a fine for that, he told us, you ough to pour it into the river, he recommended. I thought maybe a gas station could burn it in a bioler or something, and we called and found someone who agreed to take it. It was one of the shops who had told us to tow. The guy was so annoyed when we came back with his dolley and a garbage can full of kerosene/unleaded. What is that, he asked; someone here said you could take care of it for us, well it wasn't anyone here, he assured me, okay, I guess we'll have to go somewhere else, and I started for the garage doorway. Where are you going to take it, I don't know, ahh just leave it here and get out of here. Thanks, and the garbage can belongs to the carwash, so uh. And we jogged back to the car. We had poured the buckets in, and returned them to where we had taken them from already, so we went on our way.
I regret not buying one of those western shirts they had there new in the store window. Red and blue with shiny snaps, just like the sort of stuff I had seen in Kansas. But in New England.
June of 2005
Sage advice:
"i think what you should do depends on what you want to get out of it. if you're trying to get away from people you know and have alone time, perhaps you should meditate, or do yoga on the beach or something. if you're looking to broaden your "cultural horizons" and meet new people, then just talk to everyone. if you like history, travel around and read books"
June took me back to Peru, where I had stopped on my way into Santiago to visit my good friend from the project in DC, and fellow Church member Dr. Neyra. I did not reach him. We would have to meet again when I came to Lima again on my return trip. And so we did. I was also planning to meet a friend from DC who was living in Lima, but they had forgotten. So my interest was sparked in going to The University of San Marcos. I met up with David, we went straight there, and to the bookstand. They had hundreds of books I had never seen or heard of before, and none I had seen before. David recommended a few. He told me that in the parking lot they used to do cultural dance classes, where that day it was karate lessons and soccer. The dance classes were recruiting centers for a maoist revolutionary group. The books used to be cheaper, and they used to have a lot of crazier stuff. That maoist group, in the 1990's, brought such total chaos and anarchy to the countryside the American missionaries were all brought home. David left lawschool for 2 years with all of his fellow church members to guarantee that no missions in Peru would not be closed. He was blessed after his voluntary great sacrifice. I was presented to a professor friend of his, dean of the college of political science. He immediately asked me to speak to his class. Before he even knew I spoke Spanish! It was a research methods class, so I talked a little about the value of research in public contracting. They then asked why we were in Iraq, and how we thought a free trade agreement would ever work. You are like an elephant, and we are like a mouse, they said. I told them that I hoped they would fight for their government to negotiate the best it could to protect their interests, and not to doubt our intentions. They asked about Fehrenheit 911, and were all convinced that the last election had been a farce. How could it possibly be, they asked. I explained to them how we saw social decay, and how we sought to protect our way of life, and how foreign policy is only one of many issues to us. Some calmed down after that.
We arranged for me to come back, and to organize a conference where I would be given a graduate certificate, like the one I was earning in Chile. This would be something that occupied my time and effort for a number of months.
David then took me that night to visit a friend of his. A married couple who lived near the University who had a small private school in their home. They were excited to meet a young American like me, and invited me to come back and stay with them whenevery I could. I took a bus that night. David sent me to stay with a friend of his from the political party to which he belongs. I arrived at Javier's after about 4 hours travel. Javier is a sincere man, about my age, a civil engineer with a lot of friends, and a lot of ideas of how to help his community. Always in meetings trying to organize the elements of grassroots effort he has an insatiable optimism. I was happy to meet his friends, and talk to them about their peers in my country. The student government at the local university desperately needs to hear from ASUU about working to build a good public post-secondary school, under capitalism. And the research group, and the student mess hall could all use a good Lowell Bennion to show them the ropes. Each one of those students, as well as the poor folks at San Marcos could use a Hinckley Institute of Politics to get opportunities in established institutions. The effort to bring at least some students from my alma mater to meet with these their peers would consume much of my time for the months to come.
I left Javier's after 3 days in beautiful Huacachina. (see photos, Ica at http://samlamanite.spaces.live.com/ )
I stopped in Arica to visit Miguel and Lorena, converts from Santiago. On Sunday, I went to church, and we all went to El Morro with Miguel Jr. and his sister, and her boyfriend. I went into town the next day to upload some photos and print some stuff to read for school. I went to the back of an internet cafe, and read some emails, replied to some others for a while. I chatted with a friend in Santiago, sent some pictures. I was up getting paper when an earthquake struck. (http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/eqinthenews/2005/uszgbu/). I hurried outside, and after it was over, I asked if anyone thought another one would come soon. What, they asked, and I went into the dark room to get my computer, camera and printouts. I paid what I owed them, as they were preparing to lock up and head for higher groundthey sort of stared at me for a second, and I left. Miguel and Lorena and I had a nice chat that night at his mother's house. His brother-in-law and I talked a bit, and I started to like Arica. I was going to leave that day, but one more night would not put me back too much. They wanted me to stay, and were worried about the road. I was not worried, Chile is a very safe place to travel. I went to the bus station that morning, and bought a ticket. I would end up waiting for 15 more hours in that bus station, until it, as well as the town started to feel very familiar to me. I did take a jaunt, with my entire backpack up to the hills in the nearby valley to see the countryside, some ruins, and a museum that houses a mummy older than the ones in Egypt. But the museum was closed. Because of the quake there was no one around, so I walked from riun to ruin. Some were Spanish from way way back, some were Inca, some were pre-Inca from way way way back.
I rode the bus that night with a family of Chilean Roma, and some Peruvian migrant workers headed for work in Santiago. There are many gypsies in Chile, they make up an important part of the cultural picture. The peruvians and I made friends with one of em, and he taught us some words. I asked him to draw me some pictures, and tried to teach him how to read. He was 10, and could not write his name. I was very afraid of his father, who had been getting in fist-fights at the bus station. His name was Dolar. I still have his pictures on the back of my readings for school.
Upon returning to Santiago, I started to plan, and to apply for grants to see about linking well-intentioned folks in the US, Chile and Peru together to help the ones in Peru.
This year ...
The first day of June was my second-to-last day working with my brother. I had planned on partnering starting a business with him, and first we needed to build the house. I was not as good at some things as would be required. It was all very new to me. Then one night I had this strong feeling like I needed to go. As soon as humanly possible. To Salt Lake City. I regretted this, but had never felt so strongly that I needed to do one thing. I called my good friend Parker, who was planning a visit soon, and offered to pay for the gas if he would come and get me the next day. The rest is between me and history. I was sorry to have to leave.
We went first to LA, and dropped Parker's brother off to film skateboarding, and went to San Diego to visit another good friend, and see the beach.
I know now why I had to go. My dear fiancé had decided in Chile that same day to call off our engagement that following week. Her feelings had changed, she said. Had I received this news in California, I think could have gotten very dark, or at least I would have struggled more to find comfort. I was spared this pain, because it was mixed with a reunion with my brothers and sisters, and good friends in my home town. My brother Abraham, and my friends Mike and Lori VanWagoner and Anne Jensen, and Taylor Miller, Mark Polson, and others deserve my lifelong thanks for their welcoming homes and for lending an ear to my broken heart and hopeless spirits, and helping me to see beyond the day. I found courage in the face of fear in the Salt Lake temple and frustration and subtle nepotism in the Salt Lake job market.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to the senior missionaries at the Magna LDS Employment Resource Center who helped me lift my hopes and to look to get not just a job, but to get my career back on track.
I spent the month at my friends Mike and Lori's, looking for work in Salt Lake, and ended up leaving for Washington DC last days of June.
July 2004
I looked around, and thought, well what now, what next? I was really enjoying researching economic development and international relations issues regarding the Balkans for the final paper of my final university course. I spent a lot of time in the library, and wish to bore the reader with a bit of what I did. I proposed that the US assist Balkan countries by helping them reverse Balkanization. The hope for the Balkans is in regional integration, because the last time the entire South East Europe region was at peace was under a vast empire that didn't worry too much about them, and allowed them to be autonomous, yet guaranteed security for them. Economic Development in that region is about building good highways that cross borders, and about creating interdependence between communities in their common businesses, and giving them an easy time trading with places like the US, not taking advantage of them in their extreme weakness. It was exactly what my employer was working on, and his plan seemed impecable in view of history, economics, and international relations. I felt I had really found a field I could dedicate my time and talents to, and would always be passionate about. I wanted to go to graduate school and to join the peace corps to get field experience so I could get good jobs.
I interviewed for a job at the beginning of the month, and my mind was put at ease. I was offered a position in the interview. I accepted. The Hinckley Institute interns had made such a good impression on this man, that he knew I would be right for the position. I was very grateful to Mr. Hinckley, who organized that institution where anyone who can get into college, and is willing to travel to DC, can get a leg up in the field of their choosing, without having to have a lot of money or prestigious this and that. The last Friday at my internship was spent doing something related to the conflict resolution courses, and the next monday I started work at my new employer. But that was August.
July 2005
Upon returning to Santiago I got to work quickly planning the various projects I wished to carry out, at some point. I visited the local coastal region, and started to really appreciate the great friendships I had made in college. I started talking to my friends from the U about the project, and got support, in the student exchange, as well as in the conference. We started looking into coming as a group, and I tried to find funding. I guess there isn't much funding for young people to build international understanding, at least I couldn't seem to find much.
July in South America is not summer. It was rainy and cold. It feels so much colder there than here. Because there is no indoor heating, only funny little space/room heaters. They work pretty well, but you have to be really careful. I melted part of my warmest shirt on one. I spent a lot of time in my room. I even found it on google earth. I was always able to find things to work on. I was writing some training materials for my former position. I also got some work translating surveys into Spanish for my former former former position in Salt Lake.
School was moving slowly. I volunteered at a place, organizing their documents library. I looked for work, and could not find anything. I believe that by the end of the month I had begun teaching "Nephi through Alma" in English at the LDS Church Institute of Religion. I was unable to find work in Llay Llay, or Santiago, so after a little while I took a calling in my ward, and started to think about other stuff. I had not gone there to earn money, and there were other ways I could do the type of work I wanted to do as a volunteer. And I needed to put my heart and life back together.
July 2006
Looking for work in Washington is hard. It is a place where people from all over the country come to do a specific type of work. Whatever that type of work is, they have a very strong idea of what it is, and they know how to get it, and have prepared themselves to get it. Organizations still need to recruit, but the type of competition is different, stiffer. Also many people come here, to work and gain experience for graduate school, or because this is where their powerful friends from back home can help them the best. They are the most interesting type of people. They come here, and work grudgingly in jobs that others will work temp jobs for years for, and then they have the network to get them into the jobs that people will cross the world for. I know all this, but I came all the same.
I was hired 3 weeks ago at a firm that does similar work to almost all of my previous employers for the last 5 years, and it is a good mix. My first assignment was to take a study that was going to have 4 months to be done, and do it all in 3 weeks. Although the results were not perfect, I was able to get the right number of people needed. Thanks to the help of interns who may have thought that it was boring, or not exactly what they had come to Washington to do.
Well, I'm back on track, now I am just working to stay on track.
