Wednesday, August 19th, 2009

Last night I was lucky enough to sit with 2 of the Paris consultants in the mess hall. One of them asked if I was getting used to life here, which lead to a very cool talk. I said…well, I don't think that I'll ever get used to it, but that not liking it (or giving up trying to like it) is not an option. I give a similar response when asked about the 10 hour days. Aren't they long? Um…yep. But to sit there and think about how long they are is far harder than just accepting that I work 10 hours a day and wait for my body to adapt to it. Its only week two, but I really want to continue to have that same attitude. I really thin kthat the attitude you have here will make OR break you.

What I am finding hard aren't the things that I thought I would struggle with. It's not the country, the different culture, the foreign surroundings, - it's the logistic things. How I get to work? Will my telephone work tonight? Will my Skype work at all tonight? Has HR renewed my work visa? Small things like I am really fighting with. These simple things can make my dad-to-day life hard, but my work life really hard. For example - on day I spent a total of three hours trying to figure out how to get a ride to work. In a few weeks, I won't have that time to waste! But… I'll wait it out and eventually (I'm certain) that I'll figure it out one way or another.

Anyway – back to the conversation with the Paris dudes. They have worked in different countries/areas – Russia, Congo, etc.. and they said this is the best set up they have ever seen. They have worked in far more dangerous places and rougher conditions - and as far as expat work - this place is pretty sweet.

One had been to Russia when it was -22*C…and I LOVE hearing them talk about how incredibly cold it is, how they can't feel their ears, etc. (But hearing me talk about how hot it is will probably be entertaining for them too, I'm sure!). It's SO MUCH FUN to teach each other sayings/expressions from our respective countries, and sharing certain funny things – like in Paris – if someone is pouring you a glass of wine – and your glass is the last one to finish the bottle – it's said that you are going to be married by the end of the year. Little things like that are so entertaining and interesting to me.

Last night I went for a run. I would like to run every day here, I think. Just to….get rid of the day and do something that doesn't seem new to me. I've got a feeling that if I continue to run, I'll soon be the founder of the Running Room Madagascar chapter. J

Yesterday I went to the market at lunch. It was the same market that I went to on Sunday. I asked the driver if it was safe to walk back and he ensured us that it was. I was looking forward to finally walking somewhere and not having to be chauffeured!

Actually, this market really resembles the same kind of set up as the Grandville Island market in Vancouver. But the "meat district"… well, yesterday it was +33 at lunch (according to the thermometer in the car) and there are piles of chopped meat sitting on the counters, sausages hanging from hooks, skinned rabbits in piles on a table – baking in the heat. The market is made up of a bunch of huts – so it's the shade – but it is still REALLY HOT in there! There are HUNDREDS (maybe thousands?) of flies swarming around the meat and the smell is…. Well, whatever rotting meat smells like. The smell actually made me dry heave several times. I tried to hide it, but I'm sure they all knew what was going on. The smell was inexplicable.

And just when I thought I had enough – I nearly trip over the "chicken" corner. There are about 20 chickens – 10 are dead in a pile, and the other 10 chickens are walking around their dead friends. I want to be taking pictures through this, but I'm not sure how safe it is to whip out my camera and start taking pictures. Once I've been here awhile and I learn what is cool and not – I'll take pictures. I can't leave Madagascar without getting pictures of this market for back home. Rox walked around and bought a few things. She commented that I hadn't bought anything – but at this point, I'm just pretty overwhelmed and taking it all in. I'll pick up some souvenirs later… right now… I just want to keep absorbing and discovering how these people live. And the market was a good introduction.

One I returned to the office I realized I hadn't eaten lunch. So – I did what I'm " supposed to" do in this situation. I called the driver, he came up, took my money, and then went and got me a pizza and brought it back upstairs for me. That is weird. I don't take my lunch because I'm going exploring, and then I call a driver to pick me up lunch? Ok… makes sense.

This one particular driver is the "Big Boss"' driver… and you can tell. He is extremely cocky (especially for a Malagasy person who basically don't understand the meaning of the word! For the most part they are really shy – remember I used the men's washroom for a few days and they were too polite to tell me!!) and when Cocky Driver comes to pick me up – the security guards at the camp gate don't talk to him, don't greet him, don't smile at him – nothing. And he does the same. Every other driver is all about pleasantries and waves and smiles. Not with this guy. The vehicle is also a fancy SUV as opposed to a older super-cab truck that the rest of us get. Somehow I'm sharing this driver (sometimes only) and you can tell he is the spoiled one and full of himself. He even goes as far as to correct my French (which I appreciate – but is SUPER balsy for a Malagasy person).

I much prefer the driver I had this morning. Sometimes I want him to shut up because he talks and talks and talks, but whatever he says is very interesting. He can't understand about ½ of what I say (he doesn't know French very well) but we somehow figure it out – and even have a few laughs together. Last night I taught him the expression of what it means to be chicken.

All this happened more than 24 hours ago, but I'm just writing about it now. I find that I almost can't even write about my experiences until the day after. It takes me a full day to process what I've seen without my blog post looking something like: اáÎ ÇáãÞÏÓÉ ÔíÊ áÇ ÇáÎÏíÚÉ ÇáãÞÏÓÉ ;ASLKFJ193!!!!! FJD!;F;LKJAS93@:** ÇÕÏÞ åÐÇ ÇáãßÇä

After a few hours – or the next day – it starts to sink in and I realize how incredibly cool it was…and almost want to go and do it again….even though the market made me dry heave, I want to try it again to see what else I'll notice the second time around.

I've also been learning a bit of Malagasy.

I can greet someone, and if they are feeling brave, we have a bit of an exchange of pleasantries (I have spelled phonetically here…I won't even try to figure out the spelling just yet…)

Ma-na-oh-na (Hey!)

Sah-lam. (Hi back!)

Eel-Voe-Voe? (What's the news!)

Tsee-nee-voe-voe (No new news!)

When I say it, they often giggle, which makes me laugh, so it's a great way to start the day. the one thing I noticed today is that Malagasy people smile much, much more than we do in Canada. I hope that's something I can take back with me!!