To quench your eyeballs

Drinking water is sold in bottles(some may be glad to hear that Dasani is the most popular bottled brand), but also in sachets. Sachets are filtered water sold in sealed plastic bags. They're mad cheap (about US$0.03, as opposed to a ridiculous US$0.50 for a bottle!). You have to bite off a corner of the bag and suck from it. This is what I look like most of the time when I'm walking down the street in Accra. Most Ghanaians look as silly as me, sucking water out of plastic bags.



A view of Asylum Down from the penthouse flat where I’m staying. :) Note low buildings and cell phone / radio towers (and the tall building that seems to be built for the purpose of having cell phone / radio towers on it).



A street near the center of Accra. Again, note cell phone tower! Ghanaians, I have learned, love their cell phones.



The coolest thing at the largely disappointing National Museum (those who know what a museum freak I am will understand my sadness). Go, taxidermy!



A palm tree grove at the Aburi Botanical Gardens. Looks a bit like sunny California, does it not?



Another "OC" shot. As you can see, the beaches are impressive! Unfortunately, most Ghanaians tend to apply Le Chatelier’s principle when it comes to the ocean – they do whatever to it and tend to believe that the environment will work itself out. The water is dirty near the beach and overfished away from it. Still, it's a lovely sight... until you see a swarm of plastic bags or some panties (or worse!) wash up on shore. What a drag.

As for development along the beach, there are some posh resorts and “spots” (bars) along the beach in Accra, but for large stretches, it’s pure beach, with few/no developments blocking the view. And, oddly enough, it’s the zongos (slums) that are the residential areas closest to the beach, not huge beachfront homes of rich peeps.

The above photo was taken from a cool "spot" right on the beach. If you look reeeeal hard, at the end of the shoreline, there is a white building. That's Osu Castle, which was a Danish colonial fort and now acts as the government's Capitol-equivalent. It's a crazy lockdown around the Castle, so this is probably as close as I could get anyways.



This is LaBadi beach, which is probably the most tourist-y beach in Accra. Locals call it simply “La” because they feel the “Badi” part of the name is unlucky. I think they also call it La Pleasure Beach. Hmm, I guess that explains the panties in the water.


Sidenote of the Day
In my ongoing quest to become a Jack (Jill?) of All Trades, Master (Mistress?) of None, I've begun my video editing lessons with Yinka. It's fun! It reminds me of my days of editing corny movies for Chinese class in college. Aaaah...sweet, torturous Chinese movie. Anyhoo, I'm not that good, but I figure I'll be able to edit some really sophisticated (read: corny) home movies in the future ("And, starwipe OUT"), or maybe be a wedding video editing assistant (apparently, everyone hates wedding videos. YES.)

Ghanaism of the Day: Nice = Good
As in, "That's a really nice movie" or "This is a really nice neighborhood" (referring to streets and infrastructure, if not people). I really like this use of the word! I know that "nice" does mean generally pleasing and can be utilized in a manner that means "good", but - admit it - it sounds a bit dorky when you use it in certain contexts. In the States, we can say, "nice house" or "nice car" (maybe even, "nice move" or "nice pen"), and now the potential application of "nice" to inanimate objects of ALL SORTS is just delightful! In short, it's really nice!

Vocabulary lesson #1: Obruni

As a former British colony, the official language in Ghana is English, but most people also know their own "mother tongue" dialects. For most people in Accra, this is Twi, one of the dialects of the local Akan languages, pronounced "chwee" or "tree", not "twee"! I don't know very much yet (beyond "thank you"), but hopefully I can pick up some phrases soon. The language is delightfully phonetic, unlike some others I've encountered as a tourist (damn you, Gaelic!).

The most important Twi word that you'll learn as an outsider to Ghana is obruni, which means "foreigner". It's kinda hard not to stick out when you're pale here, which I certainly am in these parts! :) I have to say that I have honestly not had a hard time at it, aided by the fact that Accra is a big city and people aren't totally unaccustomed to seeing obrunis on the street. That said, there are certainly obruni prices (someone tried to charge me 70 Euro for a hankerchief the other day - er, that's about US$90 for a hankerchief. Even I'm not that stupid!!), as well as the occasional stare and taunt of "Obruni!" Taxis honk when they drive past me trying to pick up a fare, which gets to be pretty noisy given that about 50-75% of Accra traffic are taxis. Most people have been nonchalant around me, and the taunts have been minimal. Also, I've been rather toughened up from my childhood of having "ching-chong" noises and racial epithets yelled at me by Toms River youth, so it rolls off my back. :) I think the whole obruni business is much tougher if you're Caucasian.

In general, Ghanaian people have been chill. Yinka has told me that the so-called famous Ghanaian hospitality is, to say the least, somewhat lacking in the city. I would have to agree, but I've still met some really nice people. One person personally walked me to my destination (WAAAAY out of the way) after I got lost and asked for directions. Others welcome me or say hello in the street. The kids are particularly cute. Some of them get really excited and come up and wave at you. Actually, let me rephrase and say that this is cute when normal everyday kids do this. I had some street kid saunter up to me and say, "Give me money!" and then proceed to hug me (i.e., attach himself around my waist) until I relented. I kept pushing him off, which I felt sort of bad about because I really like kids! Anyway, I felt a little bit like Brian the Dog from "Family Guy" when he's reprimanding Peter (::hits with rolled up newspaper:: "No. No. NO!"). After two hug attacks from the kid, a sympathetic lady walked by and yelled at the kid ("Hey! Leave her alone!") and he ran away.

Now that's Ghanaian hospitality for you!

Sidenote of the Day
Andrea (my friend who was in Ghana for a year) told me that she was initially quite confused when she would walk into a Ghanaian shop or home and people would say, "You're welcome!" She'd be like, "Uh, was I suppose to say 'Thank you' for something? Are you being sarcastic?" Apparently, "You're welcome" as a greeting means "You're welcome here." Admittedly, this is weird, particularly because when you do say "Thank you" for something, Ghanaians will reply "You're welcome!" It's a good thing Andrea warned me about this, or I would be terribly confused...or just think that Ghanaians were a bunch of sarcastic jerks.

Hail to the Chief...and Schnapps

Yinka, my very kind hostess, owns her own media company here in Accra, so she does a lot of video editing, production, web design - that sort of thing. One of her ongoing projects is to shoot pilots for shows to be shown on Ghanaian TV. You shoot a pilot, show it to a bunch of sponsors, and it gets shown on one of the three main TV stations here.

So Yinka's most current pilot project is in full swing. The concept: a program interviewing local chiefs so that they can demonstrate the types of services they are providing for their towns and villages. Yes, they still have chiefs here, and, although it's obviously a tribal affiliation, I would say (from the little I have learned) that they are the equivalent of mayors. I tagged along for the first shoot this weekend, which was in a village/town called Aburi, about an hour outside of Accra.

Along with Yinka (obviously), a cameraman and apprentice (?) came, too. The former was Kofi, who is a jolly, goofy sort of fellow, and the apprentice was a really quiet teenager named Nanaa. The entire experience was quite the adventure.

First of all, I got to experience the delight of the unpaved dirt road. Aaaaahhh. Most of Accra's streets are paved, but once you get to the outskirts of the city, you realize that you're in an American SUV owner's dream terrain: dirt, rocks, huge dirt mounds, gigantaur puddles (lakes, really) of muddy water. After having traveled on unpaved Ghanaian roads, I now know the virtue of the SUV. And, while I'm still not going to buy one anytime soon, I am inspired to learn how to drive an automatic transmission (I can only imagine the automatic transmision of Barry the Beretta dying on the tough, dusty streets of Accra).

When visiting a chief, it's customary to bring along a gift. Usually, this is two bottle of Schnapps. Really. I'm not joking. Why Schnapps, I don't really know. I asked Kofi and Yinka, "Why Schnapps? Why not Coca Cola?" Kofi joked, "Ay! [I noticed that many Ghanaians often make this funny/cute, cartoon-like "Ay!" sound effect] You want to reject African tradition like that?!?" Apparently, chiefs usually like something alcoholic and a brand that they recognize, like Schnapps....and 'cuz it's sooo African, too. :) But, honestly, Schnapps has been offered for years and years, and who am I to frown on tradition?

We left too early in the morning, so there were no liquor stores open from which to purchase said Chiefly Beverage of Choice. We were rather worried about this, but consoled ourselves in the fact that, hey, the chief was an important guy and maybe we'd only be setting up a meeting with him. But Yinka still asked, "How much is a bottle of Schnapps anyway?" Kofi and I shrugged, but, in a pretty funny moment, Nanaa (the very quiet and, may I remind you, very young) apprentice replied in a serious tone, "85,000 Cedis [about US$9]. I bought some the other day."

Yinka: "Hey! How does a small boy like you know how much Schnapps cost?" [another Ghanaianism that I like, "small boy" when referring to a kid. Cute!]

Kofi: "Ay! Did you get some girl pregnant?"

Nanaa just giggles and doesn't answer our questions. Kofi proceeds to shake his hand and congratulates him on upcoming fatherhood (in case you couldn't tell, Ghanaian attitudes towards sex is a tad more lax than American ones). I still don't know why Nanaa was purchasing large amounts of alcoholic beverages. Honestly, the Schnapps comment is the only thing he says all day.

Anyhooooooo, we get to the village after a very scenic drive out of Accra and into the hills. We pull into Aburi's village center and in front of the palace, which is really just a large-ish ranch style house with a courtyard. Apparently, the Chief had left for some meetings in Accra (DANG). However, we did get to speak to his Secretary, who was really knowledgeable and allowed us to interview him about some of the projects going on in the town, among them, a library for the local school, a community center, the development of the local market, and the construction of craft kiosks for the vendors in Aburi (it's a very popular village for Ghanaian crafts). This particular chief seems to be doing a lot for his village, so that is nice to see. Yinka and her crew may go back to interview the chief later. Hopefully I can tag along again!

At the market, Kofi and Nanaa shot some cut-away shots of the market while Yinka and I stayed in the car (so as to not attract so much attention). Some of the local women selling veggies on the side of the road started chatting in Twi, and Yinka translates for me:

Woman 1: Hey, I wonder which TV station they are from.

Woman 2: Oooh, they should tape me! And interview me! (starts arranging her tomatoes and waving at Kofi to film her)

Yinka and I are giggling in the car as she translates this to me

Woman 1: Ay! The obruni (foreigner) is laughing at us! Stop embarassing our people!

Hee hee.

Another fun fact about Aburi village is that Bob Marley's widow actually lives there! She is some sort of honorary royalty and does a lot of good in the community. Nifty.

After we finished shooting and desecrating sacred shrines, we visited the Aburi Botanical Gardens for some shots for the pilot and just to chill out in general (I realize J-Cap would be pretty excited at this botanical $prospect). It was okaaay, although I had to pay 4 times as much as an obruni. Whee! Here I made another cultural discovery: we stopped for drinks because it was getting hot in the afternoon (around 2 PM), and Yinka was getting a little hungry. So imagine how confused I was when she asked the guy at the restaurant for an Amstel! I was like, "Ay! Yinka, your stomach is empty ,and it's hot...and you're drinking beer right now?" I was thoroughly confused before she explained the whole Malt Drink concept to me. Apparently, Ghanaians like to drink something called malt drinks, which is basically sweetened, non-alcholic brew. There are popular brands like Guiness and Amstel, and that's what she was ordering. Apparently, the malt drinks are a bit more filling than sodas ("minerals"), so that's why she ordered it. Okkaaaaay. For my part, I discovered a local mineral called "Krest", which makes a tasty Sprite-like drink and also (I discovered later) ginger ale.

On our way out of the village, we drove by the palace once again. In the front courtyard, there was a round concrete planter (so it seemed), but it was filled with some trash and broken bottles (Schnapps bottles?). The car was parked too close to the planter-thing, so when Yinka opened the door, she had to step on the planter to get out of the car. Upon doing this, some older people who were around the palace began yelling at her! Apparently, the garbage-filled planter-thing was the village shrine, and Yinka had basically desecrated it. OOPS. Before they started stoning, we ripped outta there. "Hmm, that explains the dried blood on the concrete," Yinka observed, thinking about some unsuspecting goat that was probably sacrified on the shrine.

So it was a pretty fun day. On top of desecrating shrines, I learned about local chiefs and all sorts of beverages favored by Ghanaians. The cultural education continues.

Accra, Ghana: Journey & First Impressions

Well, it's hot here. Bet you couldn't guess that, huh?

Right now, my body is in denial of having crossed 5 time zones, so I had a hard time sleeping last night (Body: "Why are you sleeping fool, it's only 6 PM!" Mind: "DEAR GOD, why won't you let me sleep?!?!"). Pardon me if any portions of this post are complete nonsense. I've only been here for (not quite) two days, but I at least wanted to give you some notes about my journey here to Accra and my initial impressions of the city. I must confess that I'm going to ignore Blogger's tip to increase readership by "keeping posts short."

The Journey
The trip didn't start well. At Newark, I was stopped for having some unknown, potentially dangerious chemical found on the outside of my carry-on bag. "I've never seen anything like this before!" the TSA dude cheerfully told me. Pat-down and my designation as a potential terrorist ensued. They let me go eventually. Suckers.

I flew on Lufthansa Airlines, because it was the cheapest option and so I could accrue sweet frequent flier miles. Bottom line: excellent service, terrible food. One of my on-board snacks was something called "Pizza America." Because, you know, nothing says "America" like corn and carrots on your pizza. I've also concluded even more definitively that German is really cool sounding, and that my German-learnin' at the Goethe-Institut in Chicago was woefully inadequate. I did get to use my (non)skillz during my layover in Frankfurt, though (Me: "Haben Sie Mineral-wasser?" Surly German clerk: "Nein.").

So the flight was smooth and fairly uneventful, save for the very cool part of flying over the Sahara desert. First off, let me say flying over the Sahara was extremely cool. It's very...yellow. But the first thing that really hits you is how huge the desert - and thus Africa - really is! Here I shall begin my tirade about how racist our world maps are. I mean, the flight from Frankfurt to Lagos/Accra is about 6 hours, and we were over the Sahara for a good 3.5 - 4 hours. That's like flying from New York to California! And then you look at the map of the world, which depicts that Northern Africa is comparably sized with Europe. WTF?!?! For example, Ghana is actually the size of Great Britain. Check out a typical map and see how puny it looks in comparison. The (Democratic People's Republic of) Congo is approximately the size of all of Western Europe! Racist maps! ARRGH!

Arrival at Kotoka International Airport was a little different. Instead of your airplane taxi-ing to a gate (where you would walk through a tunnel and thus end up in the airport), the plane literally just parks on the tarmac, and you de-board and end up outside the plane, right on the tarmac. You then ride a bus to get to the airport's single Arrivals gate. As I rode the bus, I couldn't help but think that it was a very Speed moment - you know, during the second half of the movie, when they are driving the bus around LAX? It was almost like that, except Keanu Reeves didn't rescue me, and the bus obviously didn't blow up.

Accra: First Impressions
Accra is the capital of Ghana, and it's also the biggest city. It's very sprawling and, like most non-American cities, doesn't have much going upward. There are few high-rises here, and most buildings are probably 2-3 stories tall. It's admittedly not the prettiest city, but it's functional (as far as I can tell!).

The first thing you notice about the streets (besides the fact that they are winding, dusty, and sidewalk-less) is that they have open sewer/drainage systems on both sides. That is, there is basically a one-foot open ditch on each side of the road. Combined with the fact that cars are free to drive down whatever direction they please (no lanes marked on the street), the average pedestrian must manage to get to his/her destination without getting hit by a car or falling into an open sewage ditch. It's quite an adventure everytime you step out the door.

The activity on the street is constant. Kids playing soccer, people rushing to their destinations, ladies carrying/peddling their wares (I saw one woman impressively carrying an entire bakery on her head), loads of little stalls lining the streets. This leads to a constant din in the city, which, combined with all the different animals on the streets, can be quite interesting.

There are your typical dogs howling (perhaps a bit more ferociously), but it's worth noting that the cats are scary business here. They sound like babies crying or, worse, people pretending to meow. I have only heard them so far, but - judging from sound alone -I don't really want to see them. In addition to the man-cats, therer are also chickens, roosters, and goats - all of which are conveniently located next door to my residence! I curse the rooster who has a messed up circadian rhythm and decides to crow at 1:30 AM and 3:00 AM each morning, thereby causing the man-cats, dogs, and goats to awaken from their slumber. DAMN YOU, ROOSTER!

Ghanaian Moolah
The monetary unit here is the cedi, which exchanges at a rate of about C$9,000=US$1.00. This weird exchange rate is thoroughly confusing to me at this point, because I'll look at something and think, "Whoa! It's C$30,000! That's pricey!" when in fact, it's about US$3 and very reasonable. Hopefully, I'll get used to it soon and move past shoving large wads of cedis to cashiers and shrugging (I did this yesterday).

Food & Drink
Basically, Ghanaian cuisine is low carb hell. That's probably why I like it so much. It's very starchy (beans, plantains, yams) and tasty, with a tendency towards the fried and oily. Yum. Then again, any cuisine where fried chicken and chips (i.e., fries) are the staple is OK by me (note earlier ranking of Harold's Chicken Shack). This cuisine is admittedly not the best for me, but I'm hoping that my planned diet (Equatorial Heat + Walking + Potential for Malaria/Parasite = Weight Loss!) will take care of all that. ;)

As for drink, let's just say the booze here flows like, er, wine! It's certainly accessible and very cheap - about the same price as soda (or "mineral", as they say here...I like that better than "pop"). US$1.50 will get you a huge 1/2 liter of Guiness. SWEET. I must note, however, that I was horrified to learn that Red Bull has also taken over this country. Sigh!

My Digs
I am currently staying with Yinka, a friend of a friend, and a very cool person. She runs her own media company and has been a great host so far. She'll be teaching me a little bit about video editing, and I'll be helping her with a movie project that she and my friend, Andrea, have been working on. Fun stuff.

I have my own room in Yinka's apartment, which is pretty nice and well-equipped with a mosquito net (yay!). It's on the top floor of a building in a part of town called Asylum Down (yes, it's near an Asylum. Apparently, the patients escape frequently! So it's not just a clever name.).

I'm also proud to report that daily showers are indeed possible here! The only quirk is the plumbing: when someone outside is pumping water, the running water inside stops. This is not really a problem, but it has happened at inopportune times ("Doo, doo...washing my hair, oops, shampoo getting into my eyes...that's OK, I'll just use a little water to wash it away...hey...HEY...WTF?!?"). Such is life, though!

And with that said, I'm off to explore Accra on foot! I'll report back with more soon...

PS Some Asian people just walked into the Internet cafe, and we had a moment of "Hey! You're Asian! And so am I!" Glad that happens everywhere.

World travels begin; daily showers cease

Breakaway
(M. Gerrard/B. Benante/A. Lavigne)
Performed by artiste/philosopher Kelly Clarkson

Grew up in a small town
And when the rain would fall down
I’d just stare out my window
Dreamin’ of what could be
And if I’d end up happy
I would pray

Trying hard to reach out
But when I tried to speak out
Felt like no one could hear me
Wanted to belong here
But something felt so wrong here
So I prayed I could break away

I’ll spread my wings
And I’ll learn how to fly
I’ll do what it takes
Till I touch the sky
And I’ll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away

Out of the darkness
And into the sun
But I won’t forget all the ones that I love
I’ll take a risk, take a chance, make a change
And break away

Want to feel the warm breeze
Sleep under a palm tree
Feel the rush of the ocean
Get on board a fast train
Travel on a jet plane
Far away and break away

Buildings with a hundred floors
Swinging round revolving doors
Maybe I don’t know where they’ll take me but
Gotta keep movin’ on movin’ on
Fly away break away

I’ll spread my wings
And I’ll learn how to fly
Though it’s not easy
To tell you goodbye
I gotta take a risk, take a chance make a change
And break away

Out of the darkness and into the sun
But I won’t forget the place I come from
I gotta take a risk, take a chance make a change
And break away
Breakaway

I'll see you guys soon. Cheers!

YuhChic goes to Washington

I'm not worthy.

I'm back at home in NJ, unpacking my life into my tiny room, watching lots of TV and prepping/packing for a trip that is approaching much too quickly for comfort.

Over Labor Day weekend, my parents, brother and I went to visit my sister in the Washington, D.C., area, where she lives (in the not-so-backwoods of Virginia) and works (for a Halliburton subsidiary…whee!). There, we participated in the age-old family past times of eating, complaining, yelling at each other, bad driving, getting lost, more yelling, more eating, goofing off and having Mom and Dad doze off on public benches while my siblings and I tour the historical sites and museums. As aggravating as our little family trips can sometimes be, they actually always does end up being a lot of fun. Well, for us, anyway. It’s nice to spend time with da fam.

Between my brother’s digital camera and mine, there was no shortage of silly pictures of silly things. In order to save my family and myself from embarassment (I'll leave my personal embarassment to my next in-person encounter with you!), I'll only share this one: it’s a World War II-era poster (from the Smithsonian Museum of American History) that I really think they should use to encourage carpooling and gasoline conservation today:

Convincing, no?

And, yes, we stumbled upon the illustrious NPR headquarters, in front of which I immediately got giddier than a school girl (if you can imagine school girls being so giddy). We found it purely by accident, since we were wandering around (sort of lost, as per our usual). The building is very close to D.C.’s Chinatown, which also provides proof, once again, that wherever we go, whatever we do, my parents will automatically gravitate towards the biggest group of Chinese people and attempt to eat the Chinatown bare.

Fun times! I'll miss them a lot.

Top 5 Reasons I Miss Chicago

I have been watching too much High Fidelity.

Honorable Mention: The University of Chicago
Oh, you source of so much social pain, so much academic pleasure. You’re the reason that drew me out to fine Chi-town in the first place, what with your history of nuclear destruction and promises of academic glory. Both directly and indirectly, you introduced me to all of the following on my Top 5 (especially #1 & #2), so I’ve really gotta give you props.

5) General Midwestern easygoing-ness
Especially when it comes to driving and general human-to-human interactions. After being cursed off in a car with my best friend and on the road with other crazy (i.e., normal) NJ drivers, I just wanna say, “Chillax!”

4) Easily accessible (and rockin’) Gigging
Ah, where shall I ever be so close to so much live music ever again? And when will I ever be so young again so as to go to rock gigs without shame, retribution, or searing back/knee pain? I’ll truly miss the pre-pubescent live energy of the Metro and especially the aging/wannabe hipsters (::cough::me!::cough::) of the Double Door.

3) Neighborhoods
There’s nothing better than being really defensive and adversarial about the Chicago neighborhood in which you live! It's quite fun to lament/exult about how much cooler/lamer other 'hoods are.

During my time in the City, I lived in Hyde Park and Lincoln Square (NOT Park!) and really enjoyed both of them. Granted, so I have to say that the city suddenly became much MUCH cooler (and a little less pretentious) once I moved away from Hyde Park, but I will always have a special place in my heart for this bastion of academic/liberal thought in the middle of the South Side, with its "We don't give a shit 'cuz we're S-M-R-T, yo!" attitude. Oh, how I long for those halcyon days!

I only lived in Lincoln Square for a year, but it was fun to be on the “up-and-coming” trendy (read: increasingly yuppie) side of town. I made a fairly good attempt to eat my way down the strip of excellent restaurants on the 4500-4700 blocks of Lincoln Avenue before I left, so kudos to me!

2) Harold’s Chicken Shack
“Quarter white with mild sauce.” That’s a wing and breast piece of the most awesome fried chicken EVER tossed on top of two slices of Wonder® bread, a stack of fries, and smothered in BBQ sauce, served to you with love and care by a surly kitchen worker from behind a sheet of bullet-proof glass. I LOVE IT.

1) My pals
#1…with a bullet! Actually, it was a close call, but I think my friends would have been upset if they were beaten by fried chicken. :)

In all seriousness, this is the reason that makes me saddest about leaving Chicago. By “pals”, I mean all those friendly folks who I met while at the University, work, etc. This includes those who have relocated North, South, East, and West (and West via the South!), as well as those who are still making their fortunes in Chicago. I loves youse guys!

Goodbye, Chicago! Hello, World (and I-80)!

Happy September, everybuddy.

Well, it's nice to know that my life (at least a good chunk of it) fits into a 4-door sedan. Just barely. New goal in life: be less materialistic and accumulate less crap!

My apologies for being out of touch with most everyone. Between the packing and lack of internet access (::shudder::), it's been bad. I promise I shall be in touch soon.

I'm about to hit the road, and I'm a little ashamed about my current blogging locale. It's my old haunt, the good ol' Reg (Joseph Regenstein Library, for those who aren't "in the know"). I had to pop by the University to pick up some insignia trinkets for future friends that I hope to make (foreign pals love that type of stuff). Alas, the crappy UofC bookstore is shoddily stocked with such trinkets...so I bought myself a shirt. You would think I would stop buying stuff given the crowded state of my car (just enough room to see out the back window and some maneuverin' room for my arms!). Feh.

While I'm positively itching with nostalgia to visit the 5th floor of the Reg (home of my ex-locker, pained problem sets, and many nights of reading Sino-American rapprochement transcripts, as well as much snoozing), I gots to run! The road to New Jersey - and life(!) - await!

What does one do on her last day in Chicago?

(1) Remember to lift with legs, not back.
Gotta remember, legs, NOT BACK! (Ow ow oweeeee...)

(2) Be the first one in line at the Post Office.
For once in my life, I was first for something! My last couple of experiences at the Post Office have offended my liberal sensibilities - every visit was another reason to ask for the privatization of postal services (yes, yes, Liberal Pals, I know privatization doesn't solve everything...I'm just sayin'...). Anyhoo, I was delighted to see that the postal worker assisting me was the Nicest Postal Lady in the History of Postal Ladies ("NPLHPL"), who makes my Friedman-esque tendencies about the USPS melt away like butter in a hot pan each time she helps me. NPLHPL is a southeast Asian immigrant and just the sweetest, most helpful person ever. Today, I commented that I was amazed to be the first customer of the day, because I'm never early for anything. Her response:

"No, that's good! And, well, I don't mean to be rude, but don't people say that being early gets you the bits of the worms?"

So cute! I'll miss you, NPLHPL!

(3) Wonder if God is trying to tell America/World something.
In Imperial China, it was an old Chinese superstition that natural disasters precede the fall of a dynasty. Locusts, earthquakes, monsoons -- that type of thing. It's sort of a silly superstition really, because doesn't it just give license for people to rise up against the rulers again, instead of actually being heavenly indication that the current regime sucks? In any case, I think it's one of those "Olds" that Mao failed to crush during the Cultural Revolution.

This Hurricane Katrina devastation gets the traditional Chinese mindset in me thinking. It's just an awful situation, and I know it sounds empty, but I hope that the folks stuck in the middle of it make it out all right. Beyond the whole "Sugar, We're Goin' Down" mentality that I have going about the US, I often listen to/read the news each morning and think, "Whoa, is God mad at us or something? Is there another tree that he told us not to touch, and somehow we missed that memo?" Damn you, NPR and The Economist, for making me painfully aware of what's going on in the world.

But at least the President determined it was OK to leave vacation early to tend to this Katrina business.

Bye bye, Pax Americana.

(4) Feel a little bittersweet about leaving work.
One of my few hyper-girly traits is my sentimentality (yes, I apologize again for generalizing about my sex). Yesterday was my last day. I think a lot of people would feel happy about leaving their job, but I'm sort of sad about it. I feel bad for not doing more, not helping out the new peeps more, etc. Lots of feeling bad.

Everyone was always really nice to me, and thus stepped up the niceties upon knowing I was leaving. I got a card! And cake! Oh, and bag of Lemonheads (along with some other nice things). It's always nice to move on, but - yeesh - I was one of those kids who used to cry when summer started because I wouldn't see my schoolmates and teacher again. OK, perhaps that was too revelatory. Anyhoo, I will miss my coworkers. And I'm not just writing that because some of them might be reading this blog now. :)

(5) Be reduced to eating contents of refrigerator/pantry.
Mmm, frozen waffles, corn dogs, natural peanut butter, and can of Mandarin oranges!

(6) Packing and cleaning some more!
Dear God, why am I blogging?!?!

...Perhaps more later...