I decided to start this baby up again. Forgive the sputter of my writing but it’s been some time that I’ve written something other than a policy brief or someone else’s terms of reference. My brain’s been battered black and blue by bureaucratic life and thought maybe this could help save me. Did I think I could save the world by getting a master’s degree in bureaucracy and going to work for a giant bank? Delusions. Perhaps my emancipation can be found in this blog of my own. What do you say, Virginia Woolf?
A re-introduction: I’ve moved around with fair frequency since falling for a man in uniform and am often asked if I love the adventure or not. Yes, there’s an undeniable romanticism of living in remote tropical locations, drinking coconuts whilst gossiping about government scandals, blah blah blah. It’s all very Graham Greene. If you ask my brother, he’ll tell you he suspects we work for the CIA, tracking down Kim Jong-un as he makes unsavory deals with shadowy Vietnamese officials. The dismal truth is we both work for large bureaucracies on a tiny half island nation (one of the newest countries in the world) and spend most days under the constant hum of AC set at 20 degrees Celsius staring at the blue glow of our computer screens more than we stare at the turquoise blue sea (warning: if you didn’t yet realize, this is the self-pity kick-off post).
Unlike my previous posts from a few years back, I will chronicle both the beauty and the tragedy, the excitement and the frustration, the glamorous and impossibly mundane. Not just all the pretty places we go to and all the tropical fruit we consume in every form possible, but the frustrations of living and working in a developing country (e.g. rain = no electricity = no internet = washed out roads = flooded homes = sick employees with sick families). And all this whining will be mollified by posts of beautiful landscapes, delicious meals I’ve slaved over, and confections I’ve baked to soothe my soul.
p.s. I promise my next post won’t be so dramatic.