underWater desert Blogging

So, It's True What They Say...

about Russians.  For one they are drunks.  For another they seem to love leaving their country to hang out in the bush and do wild stuff, like fly planes drunk. 

I was talking to our interpreter the other day about the people who fly in the qat from Ethiopia.  They bring them in on small planes, not necessarily because it is illegal, just because that is the infrastructure arrangement.  They also bring them in from the Southern part of S and have to use the planes presumably to avoid the anti-aircraft guns that the TFG and or the UIC may or may not possess.  But most of these planes are flown by former Soviet Union Air Force pilots. 

The stereotype was first formed through movies and books of the rogue Russian pilots who will do anything with their planes.  Here it takes it to a new extreme.  They will pack people into planes so tightly that some will have to stand through entire flights.  They will leave the cockpit to come to the back and dig out seats from the cargo hold of the plane and start reassembling the plane while there are passengers sitting in the compartment.  Because, you know on the last flight they had a load of sheep and had to take out the seats.  They will fly their little planes so drunk that they will miss the runway, land somewhere near it and just walk away from their planes and leave them wherever they landed. 

I have heard all of these stories and have seen glimpses of the stereotypes throughout some of my journeys.  Last night, however, I had my first eye-to-eye experience.  I was in my room and it was a pleasant evening outside.  So I was standing at the window with the screen open enjoying the cool air after a nice thunderstorm.  There are big curtains in my room and they were behind me so I couldn't really see what was happening. 

As I was peacefully enjoying the cool air and quiet I heard the seat of my toilet fall.  Since it was breezy I didn't think anything of it.  Then I heard another bang but didn't think anything of that either.  A few seconds after the noises I see something move out of the corner of my eye.  I was pretty startled and turned around to see a man pulling the blanket back on my bed and sitting down on it. 

At first I was startled, then I was confused.  Was this some sort of a new turn down service that the hotel had instituted?  Did the staff not know I was here (as I was hidden in the curtains) and come in for a quick snooze?  I said, "excuse me...." and came out from behind the curtains. 

The human sitting on my bed looked up drearily and it was a white guy and so wasn't the staff.  I smelled him before I could make out his face, the stench of his boozing preceded him. 

I told the man that he was in the room.  He had his shirt off showing off a massive barrel chest with rock hard stomach (and I don't mean abs....I love my abdominals....I love my belly....I love my abdominals...this guy loved his food and booze).  He also was barefooted, had a head as big as a lion's, and of course he was wearing blue warm up pants.  AND SITTING ON MY BED.

We began to argue a bit about why he was there.  He got pretty belligerent with me for a bit and then got quite apologetic.  He started to pace around my room and ask me what I had done with his stuff.  I replied that this was my stuff and that he was in my room.  The door to the suite was open and the door to the suite across the hall was open.  I glanced out in the hall and back at him quickly (to make sure that the f-er wasn't going to appropriate any of my stuff) and there was about 18 room service trays in there with tin foil and bowls and cups everywhere.  His TV was on at about 84 trillion decibels. 

During one of his apologetic swings I asked him what his room number was.  He said the room number on the door across the hall, but I could not make him comprehend that the room he was sitting in was not the room that he was given.  During one of his acrimonious swings he told me that he was a great customer here and that this was going to be his room.  I began to think that he wanted to trade rooms rather than just being drunken and disoriented.  During one of his apologetic swings he called down to the front desk, but either it was busy or he hung up on them.  During one of his acrimonious swings he told me that he was a captain and that I should respect him. 

I thought, you're a bit old to be a captain.  I also thought, I'm a Captain too Mother F, now get the hell out of my room.  But despite my belligerent tendencies I belayed my sarcasm.  If you wonder why, see supra.  Although he was drunk, he probably had fought a time or two in his life while drunk and, HE WAS HUGE. 

So after ten minutes of me telling him to get out of my room and him telling me to get out of his room and him swinging back and forth between sorry and angry and me thinking about the nice calm cool air outside and him not able to talk English very well and me not able to talk Russian at all, I called down to the front desk and asked them to send someone up.

The nice dudes from downstairs came right up and he listened to them.  After he got out of my room I locked the door.  It had not been locked before, because I was awake and was just relaxing.  So now I keep it lock, to keep the drunken Russian Bush Pilots out.  That's one of the stereotypes about Africa that I'm happy to leave in the realm of popular culture.

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Arrival Terminal

Well, for better or worse, I guess I’m settled in here now.  I am living in a hotel suite for the time being.  In maybe six weeks or so I’ll move either into a villa on the grounds of this hotel or have been talking to a few people here about the possibility of getting a compound like we had when I was in Salone.  Either way, the living is pretty decent. 

My suite has a TV with satellite connection (CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera English and some Dubai channels that show movies in English and a sports channel that has soccer on a lot), sitting room  with fridge, a bedroom with a big bed (hard as a rock) and a desk for me to do some work on.  The hotel is a fairly big compound and I think I’m able to put human smuggling as a room charge, since I seem to be able to charge everything else on my room!  There is a restaurant and a little convenience store where I can get a few supplies.  All chargeable to my room.  There is wireless internet, although it seems to come and go.  The water runs and the electricity seems fairly constant without a loud generator.  So I’m in the lap of luxury! 

Sort of.   

The town is very poor.  I told Highlands that it is like Freetown without the natural beauty.  It is sort of in a bowl, surrounded by smallish hills on all sides.  My hotel sits on one of them and I have a great view of the town.  The surroundings are very much like when I was in 29 Palms, desert.  Although here it has rained most days and is a bit cooler than in 29 Palms, and here it is a bit flatter than it was in Cali.  The infrastructure in the town is somewhat better than Freetown, at least here most have running water and electricity.  Some people even have cable TV.  The roads are worse, most are dirt and the few that are paved are riddled with pot holes.  Luckily we have a Land Cruiser with good suspension and a driver who has a lead foot (for once that wasn’t sarcasm, I actually like him to drive faster on the roads b/c we miss many of the bumps). 

There is very little to do, unfortunately.  We went to an NGO/UN party last night, but left at 1130 and were harassed at five checkpoints on the way back.  The police couldn’t fathom that we would want to be out that late!  So, there may be some cultural growing to do.  Maybe I’ll do it at the local theater that I drove by today on my way to the market!  Guess I’m going to get my fill of reading, writing and working until Highlands gets here, and likely afterwards. 

The people seem very relaxed.  They actually seem to like that I’m American.  It is an odd feeling.  They are much less aggressive and much more reserved than the West Africans (from what I’ve seen).  Today I went to the market to get some coffee and some veggies and was only asked for money once (by an old lady who had polio).  In Freetown I would have been asked at least 10,000 times for money.  They are also less gregarious and a bit harder to joke with.  We’ll see, I need to figure out what makes them tick before I am able to really develop a rapport with them.

My partner is nice.  From what I can tell he and I are getting along.  At the party last night I started to meet some in the local NGO/UN community.  It is extraordinarily small, all things considered.  But they all seemed like the others I met in West Africa.  I guess it takes a weirdo mind to get into this work and stay in it.  At least at the party there was a bit of beer. It is a dry country!!!!! 

All in all, there is the good and the bad, but I’m OK.  Once I get my feet under me I’ll be able to really assess whether I like it here, whether I like this work, etc.  But for now I’m happy and healthy, which is all I can ask for.

In case you were looking for pictures, I cannot provide them!  My camera has either been appropriated by some customs official along the way or was left behind for some insane reason.  Luckily I had recently cleaned off the card!  Not to fret, my graduation splurge for myself is going to be a nice DSLR that I will try to have someone get for me and ship over in a month or two.

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photo-licious

so I finally have up the photos from Georgia and Azerbaijan.  It took me a while as I didn't think that I had the photos, last night in the nether regions of my bag I found the camera card on which the pictures were resting.  The pictures include, possibly, the best picture I've ever taken.  At least it is my favorite picture that I've ever taken...

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checking in

just saying hello.  all is well.  we've survived the mountains and crazy tbilisi and are now in the sleepy wine country.  tomorrow we tour the area where wine was invented.  i'll likely be drunk. 

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spies like us

i used to love that flipping movie.  now i cannot remember how they inserted themselves into the the soviet union.  it may have been through afghanistan or one of the other stans, but for the purpose of this trip i'm going to pretend that it was through turkey and then up and over the caucasuses  through geogia and azerbaijan (which i realize were part of the soviet strategic envelope (primary version, as opposed to secondary, derivative version...i'll be there soon). 

nevertheless, i'm going to pretend that i'm these dudes for the next two weeks as we dodge chechnyan separatists, old soviet landmines, drink wine, eat food, hike, ride horses and maybe do some vineyard work, buy some ancient rugs or copperware, visit old churches and try to talk to medieval dudes who still think the russians will come over the mountains any day (which they could, frankly) and therefore arm themselves with swords...!

here goes nothing...!  into the belly of the great soviet bear we venture.  and by belly, i mean belly, as this region used to provide most of the food (besides grain, that was ukraine where my ancestors came from) for the empire.

good-bye.  be back in two weeks with stories, if not sooner.

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next issue

i like the SNL skit where they make fun of that sunday morning news show.  and they use 'next issue' to punctuate debates.  i'll think of the name of it in a minute. 

i finish with the court tomorrow, although i'll be in holland for another week and probably in and out of the office to tidy up a few things.  the rest of the summer will be spent all over.  a map is embedded for you to follow along.  the highlights.  fly to Tbilisi, Georgia, then go to the Georgian Mountains to dodge sketchy Chechnyan Separatists and their land mines.  Then down to the Georgian Wine Country to get drunk.  Then to Azerbaijan mainly because I like its name.  Then back to Schipel to drop Highlands off and pick up my dad.  Then to Prague, Berlin, Cologne and then back to Amsterdam.  Then I have two nights and a day with Highlands and then I fly from AMS to Miami via London.  So it will be crazy.  Pictures and Updated Where is Casey as we go along.

 

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it's the little things

my friend, jay, collects coins from evil empires.  he has been wanting me to bring him coins from SL when i go to the netherlands this week.  i told him, no problem.  then i one up-ed him by bringing him coins from an even more evil empire: liberia. 

urs and i made a weekend trip to liberia.  other highlights which you will have to ask me about over a drink: missing the helicopter and taking a speed boat at mach two in 5 foot seas at oblique angles to the trajectory of the boat in order for 25 minutes in order to make our plane.  almost being forced into an impromptu inspection of a liberian immigration detention facility. food and beverage smuggling. avoiding taking the helicopter which crashed and killed 22 other people.

but that is not all i have to say about that.  there were a lot of differences for only a forty minute flight.  one definite difference is that the people there are colder.  i told urs that i felt like the smiles didn't come as easy as they do to SLeans but when they came they were bigger.  they are a bigger people, overall, that the SLeans for sure.  and maybe due to the proximity of the war, but they feel overall more militant. 

it was weird there the dynamics between the whites and the blacks that i observed.  overall it seemed that the whites were almost subservient to the blacks.  it wasn't exactly a power dynamic realignment, it was more like business humans schmoozing with government and in this case it was amplified b/c the business people were white and the ministers, etc. were black.  but it was odd to see, and good to see that almost everywhere we went blacks were a majority.  you may think, well, duh, you're in africa.  but in SL it is not like that.  most every place where the expats go they go in droves and there will be very few black people there.  it is hideous and annoys me to no end, and i try to avoid it but sometimes the avoiding is harder than the capitulating.  i have rarely seen a SL minister or high-ranking official, even in the nice places.  and in only a few minutes in the mamba point hotel in monrovia i saw two ministers and two senators and a few congressmen.  so had i stayed longer and not left for drinks at the marine house on the us embassy compound where a friend of mine had been ten years before during some massive unrest, i'm sure i would have seen more.  we saw charles taylor's wife at the grocery store.  i have never seen anyone of import in SL.  never.

but the white people there seemed odd to me.  more hardened than here. less save the world types and more...different.  i was trying for some time to put my finger on what it was and i still cannot.  i think that the white people there also have a hard life and many of them do not have the freedom that we have here in SL to mingle.  also you saw a lot more old people there. not the white people so much but dignified african gentlemen and ladies.  it was good to see how elegant they looked, but it was also good to see that either they have eradicated a lot of diseases or their healthcare system is marginally better.

the city itself is slightly more developed in my opinion than freetown.  the power is about the same, but the water situation is better (it is easier b/c of the lack of hills) and the transportation infrastructure is miles ahead.  construction infrastructure and construction itself is vastly more improved than here in freetown where they are still constructing with manpower and wheelbarrows, there they had he3avy machinery and a certain taste in architecture which you will not find elsewhere.  also the port is a freeport and is operational, there is an industrial sector which is about ready to come back online and the sanctions on their diamonds have just been lifted and on other products it is about to be lifted.  so they are well-established to make leaps and bounds of improvements if they continue their current trend.   

the last tanglible difference was how much more urban it felt.  there was one beach bar in monrovia, but only one.  here there are many.  freetown in comparison is more like a laid-back beach community and monrovia was more like a city that is going places and has things to do.  the streets were wide but moveable.  the clubs were not open air but where inside and the music was less african and more american/european.  monrovia had more sectors or more planned urban design than freetown. 

so that is my review of the difference there were others that we realized, but those are the main ones worthy of note.  now i must work.

i leave on thursday night to go to amsterdam and then down to the hague.  i should arrive in the hague friday afternoon.  i'll be there through the summer.

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Wow.

Senegal = Wow.  There isn't much else to say. 

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OK, well there is lots to say.  Many of the stories from the trip are embedded in the pictures in the album.  I will give the highlights of each day here if you are really interested...Will flush out a couple of the themes in here through the next week!

Day 1: Arrive, harassed at airport as per norm, put foot down with harassor, cab ride to hotel, drinks at posh lounges.  Approached by many beautiful women who spoke no English.  Not interested in engaging in the services of the oldest profession.

Day 2: Get up to nice breakfast of Patisseries and COFFEE that wasn't instant.  Wonderful eggs, a bit of great cheese. Head off for the markets, heartily disappointed, almost pickpocketed.  Find a quiet Chocolaterrie, drink a Yogurt milkshake thing. Happy. Walk to an art gallery. Finally find African art worth more than a one second glance. Stare at a beautiful exhibit of faces of West African artists, poets, sculptors, etc. Find a pub have a beer. Back to the hotel for siesta. Watch sunset over Daakar on our terrace eating good cheese on proper baguette and drinking Senegalese wine.  All of this sentence is highly recommended save for the word Senegalese...take that word out of the sentence and the scene would have been close to perfect.  Dress for Thai garden.  Eat to a chant of frogs. Find jazz at Just for You (first of three nights out of four in Daakar to be here). Listen to Orchestra Boubab. Realize that I've found the jazz place I've searched for my entire life. Beyond happy. Rhum. Dancing under some tree on the beach surrounded by people who speak no English save for my friends. Bed at about 6.

Day 3: Arise (finally). Eat. Go to Isle de Goree. Amazed by the craziest, hippest, most wonderful artistic community I've ever seen. Run out of money but promise to return to buy art. Eat at a romantic place with Brett as my date and Urs and Rosio as our double date. Wish highlands was there with me. Return to the mainland, return to Just for You. Listen to a crazy Senegalese version of Billy Holiday/Nina Simone. Realizations of Day 2 re: this place are fully confirmed. Bed at a reasonable 4.

Day 4: Arise. Hassled/Haggle. Four hour long-distance cabbie drives us to Saint-Louis in the northeast corner of Senegal. Check into hotel where Frenchy airmail pilots stayed a long time ago.  Eat amazing lobster ravioli in a pink sauce. Find good live music in a random courtyard where someone was selling beers. Turns out they were Gunean and not Senegalese, I didn't hold it against them.

Day 5: Walk around the island. Take tons of pictures. Siesta by the pool. Read. Eat a marginal dinner. Find average live music.

Day 6: Walk over the bridge to the fishing village side of the river. Take lots of pictures of kids. The crazy thing was how excited and happy and non-hassly they were. Once you took their picture they only wanted to see themselves. I was happy to oblige. Walked through the markets smelled wonderful treats such as skinned goats hanging in the heat surrounded by flies. Ate Boubab root. Not awful. Walked to Mauritania. Walked back to Senegal. Took a horse-cart to Mauritania. Felt like Jesus as I entered Boiyo. Then I was harassed by the border guards. Wondered if I would get my passport back without bribing anyone...didn't, but I did get my passport back. Horse-cart back to Senegal. Watch boring soccer game. Eat something memorable, except cannot quite remember right now. Hear this crazy acapella guy who would create soundscapes by looping sounds that he had made and layering each on top of the other.  He was crazy. And magnificent.

Day 7: Walk over to the mainland side of the river. Very middle Class over there. Take a Senegalese Poda-Poda. Crazy. Eat african food. Almost get taken for a ride by a taxicab driver until he screws up. Buy antique Mauritanian daggers without considering whether I'll be able to transport them across international borders. Meet African German teacher who is in love with one of his students.  Walk back as the sun sets. Do some yoga. Eat. Drink. Relax. Read.

Day 8: Drive back to Daakar. Settle in. Eat. Drink. Back to Just for You. Cheik Lo is playing. We stay. This guy was the most truly beat guy I've ever met. Crazy! All above is confirmed. Meet insane traditional Senegalese dancers and their choreographer. Go to Via Roma to hang with them. Music is beyond loud, all the Senegalese are dancing their dances. Us white people were sitting there.  To bed at 5.

Day 9: Brett woke me up by moving his bed around on the linoleum floor to find his shorts at about 10. Hungover but not too badly. Breakfast alone. Meet up with others after wandering around lost looking for their posh hotel pool to meet them. Finally find them. Place is crazy. Surrounded by white people. Felt weird. Left after a dip to Isle de Goree. Two main artists remember and were pleased at my return. Buy MUCH artwork. Fantasize about becoming a Senegalese importer of art as I watch the sunset from the hill on the island while sitting with a bunch of rastas and not talking for an hour or something. Back to Daakar. Dinner at crazy African place, realize Sierra Leonean food isn't so bad in comparison to traditional Senegalese food. Back to lounge bars for a quiet night. End up in bed at 5.

Day 10: Up at 6:30. HUNGOVER. Don't really remember the cab ride, or checking in. Start coming to on the plane. End up in Sierra Leone. My friends took the ferry (slow), I took the helicopter as I needed a bit of space from them. Come off the helicopter with bags in hand, satisfied with my adventures. Struck that SL sort of felt like home.

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summer

ok.  i think that i have it all figured out.  this summer i mean.  other than that i have had reaffirmed to me lately that i don't have ANYTHING figured out.  and there are even a couple of iterations of this summer worked out.

in order to explain it properly a little backstory is in order.  i case i haven't laid it out for you, i have two basic roads diverged inside my yellow self.  the first is to "go to work" and just sell to the litigation man and move to NY, live fast, live hard, learn to litigate like a champ.  the other road is to "have a good life" and go to a medium market and not work so hard, or be so good, but also have a life outside of my 2 AM chinese feasts, my blackberry and my $5000 suits.  the only markets that i'm really considering are: portland, austin and denver.  in that order.

ok.  i just accepted my second job for the summer.  this one with a state appeals court in texas.  this is good for a number of reasons.  first of all it will be in austin.  austin is one of my cities.  that is good.  this will be a great recommendation and will (i think) virtually ensure that i can get an interview there for a 2L job.  in fact, i will probably interview with firms while i'm there to get it out of the way.  also i would want to interview there as the firms that are there are outposts of big law firms headquartered in houston or dallas.  the attorneys that those firms will send to on-campus interview season next fall will be from the larger offices in the bigger cities.  that means that they may not have a clue about life in the austin office.  they may, but more likely they will tell me that they know and they won't really know.  so it will be advantageous to go check it out.  in addition to the austin connection and the judge being a great reference to lawyers in that city, judge law (yes that's his name) will be a good reference in general.  state appeals courts, although not as prestigious as state supreme courts, may give me more exposure b/c of their higher work load.  plus i'll be in the same building as the state supreme court so i can talk to those people.  since it is of lesser prestige that means i'll be doing more of the work.  the administrative assistant has already told me that i will be researching and writing opinions.  me, the freak 1L, will be writing opinions that could be in textbooks some day.  pretty kool huh?  on a state supreme court level i won't be doing the writing, only the reasearch.  then there is the layer of the federal court system.  1L's DON'T GET JOBS at the federal appeals court level.  it doesn't happen unless you are #1 at harvard and have 5 degrees prior to being a JD candidate.  so that leaves the federal trial court level, now that would be interesting.  the difference between trial courts and appeals courts is that appeals courts are clean.  i don't have any problem getting my fingers dirty, however at the appeals level you get to focus on what the law is.  much of the emotion is taken out of it.  much of the gamesmanship is taken out of it.  much of the uncertainty of juries is taken out of it.  that leaves time and space for the law to really come full force and be analyzed in detail.  so all in all i think that i will be the best experience possible for me.  and i'm not just trying to justify not getting an offer from the TN or TX supreme courts.  i did have offers from the fed trial level, but i don't think that the prestige of federal over state courts outweighs the prestige and possibilities for learning of appeals over trial courts.  so it will be a good reference, it will be prestigious, & it will be a great learning experience.  enough said.  wait there is more.  it is in AUSTIN.  which should be GREAT over the summer, bands, booze, etc.  now i just have to convince cam to come with me!

the other half will be in aspen at the policy and litigation firm out there.  i am excited about that one too as i will see life from the other side.  we're to work on a national security policy position paper.  we're to work on some big-time environmental litigation and some other litigation as well.  it will be a rounded experience. 

then there is faith's non-profit which i think that i'm going to start working with her on.  at least i can do the IRS filing for her non-profit status.  that isn't a small deal either.  i can also do some liasoning with the young lawyers committee of the miami bar association and to help her develop her curiculum for these kids.  so i will also be working on that over the summer.

then there is the book that is starting to coallesce inside my head and that must be written this summer, at least in a solid draft form.  it will be good and it will get done.  i cannot wait.  this summer is going to be what i want out of it.  varied, interesting, polarizing, emasculatizing, and generally all-tizing.

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the short story is

walking the woods

left nashville this weekend to walk in the woods.  it helped.  spent saturday night buried in my books at a hipster coffee shop smoking rolled cigarettes.

tonight i watched a rockumentary called the last waltz.  it made me crave my former life more than i normally do.  shit.  whatever, tomorrow i return to the land of dockers.

the best part of the weekend, however, was when a friend of mine turned to me at happy hour and laid the best compliment i've received in years on me.  "you know man from now on i'm going to call you: THE DUDE."  "pour me another caucasian gary."

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