Wherever you go, there you are...

I wish I had some pictures to go with this post, but its probably better that I don't - they'd be mainly empty wine bottles and rainy days and sad pathetic shots of crumbling post-Soviet infrastructure, to match my mood.

Tbilisi is actually the most beautiful city I've ever seen. A sublime mix of old and new, culture and consumerism, religion and modernism. My hotel has a glass sauna on the 18th floor and I've been spending half an hour there every night looking over the twinkling lights reflecting off the Mt'k'vari River....and thinking (always a dangerous thing).

In a lot of ways, this work trip is the culmination of what my hopes and dreams for this job were. I'm in a foreign country, working to build health infrastructure and public health capacity with eager clinicians and epidemiologists, working with some of the top movers and shakers in the global health field, and enjoying some of the perks of traveling on the government dime. But despite all the excitement and opportunity, I go sit in the sauna at the end of the day and feel pretty - empty.

I dread going back to Egypt. The political and social unrest, the lack of friendly faces and social support, and regular 10-12 hour work days are beginning to take their toll. I feel unconfident in the work I do - it sounds impressive on paper, but at the end of the day its hard for me to say what I actually accomplished.

I came to this job because I thought it would make me fulfilled. I had dreamed of working in Global Health for a long time, and this was my opportunity, despite the fact that it came at a most inopportune time. I don't feel fulfilled. I feel lost, insecure, and more than a little scared about what the future holds.

So if this isn't what fulfills me - what will? I have some clues, but I don't know whether to trust them.

1. I had the most wonderful social and support system in Austin. I was surrounded by so many awesome people who were always up for a variety of things - going out, staying in, checking out music, cooking, camping, traveling etc. I obviously need more of a social connection in my life to feel happy.

2. Yesterday, Dr. S (the neurologist from CDC who is here working with me on this study) was called to do a consultation for one of the participating clinicians here. Her husband is dying of lymphoma and had some neurological symptoms she was hoping Dr. S could evaluate. I accompanied him to the hospital and was so moved, as I always am, at the power of good clinical care. There isn't much to be done for this man unfortunately, but the ability to provide some expertise and a caring, thoughtful examination, is something I wish I had developed.

3. My family is having an awfully hard time right now. My mom (who is battling her own cancer diagnosis) is doing much better at the moment, but we're all very afraid of what the future will bring and what that will mean for all of us. I know she wants me to pursue my dream, but I worry that I'm wasting an opportunity to be spending time with her when we don't know how much of that we have left.

4. I am a happier person in a relationship. I know feminists everywhere are going to accuse me of drinking the Kool-Aid and succumbing to the false belief that a woman is nothing without a man. I don't think I'm "nothing" as a single person - but I know that being in a supportive, happy relationship is something I that will fulfill that little piece of emptiness I'm battling at the moment. I know my past romantic endeavors didn't work out so well, for various reasons, and maybe thats a clue that marriage/partnership isn't in the cards for me - but I would like to hope otherwise. Living in Egypt and traveling to far corners of the world isn't going to put me in situations where I can spend time developing those relationships.

All of these things are pointing me back home - maybe to starting pursuing a clinical care degree while spending time with my family and being closer to my friends. Maybe I'm just running from a challenge. I have no idea how to assess that. All I can do is keep going for now, and look for opportunities to change my situation at every chance I get.

Hashemite Kingdom Part 2

The official name of Jordan is "The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan", which sounds pretty awesome, right?

Anyway, after picking up A., we proceeded on to Wadi Rum for a Jeep tour and camping in the desert.

Those "Camel Crossing" signs on the highway? They weren't joking.

 Tourism in Wadi Rum is the major source of income for the Bedouin tribes living in the area, who are the official caretakers of Wadi Rum desert and Petra. They are a very handsome people, darker skinned than most other Jordanians, and with smooth curly black hair. The men wear sparkling white robes, which never seem to get dirty even in the dust of the desert. This all adds to the tall, dark, and handsome allure  - I've heard from numerous people that sex tourism is not completely unheard of for Western women who want the full Bedouin, ahem, experience. But I digress from our trip (which did not include that particular experience...)

Our guide's name was Aatif, and he brought along a friend. We set off in a Jeep that was probably purchased around the time Mubarak came to power, and had no shocks to speak of. This made off-roading a somewhat painful experience, and I'm pretty sure I bruised my tailbone somewhere about the way. The scenery made us forget all the discomfort though...

Can you see me?

The landscape reminded me quite a bit of Utah, with the red rocks, sandy floor, and numerous arches, which brought back a lot of good memories from a trip I took with friends this past March to Canyonlands National Park. In addition to the rocks and arches, there were canyons and petroglyphs to explore:

Thanks A., this is a fantastic shot of my better side

Now at this point, Aatif and friend and doing a fantastic job driving.

So I can't understand why they thought it would be fun to let us drive for a while. Maybe this is part of the tourist bit, maybe they were bored, maybe Bedouins have a woman driver fetish. Whatever the case may be, I was first in the drivers seat. This was my first, and possibly last, time driving a manual. Aatif elected to hang out the backseat window and take pictures while his friend (who didn't really speak the ingleezi) gave me directives - "Clutch" "Schweya schweya! (slow down!)", "Clutch Clutch Clutch!".

Do you see the terror in his eyes?

Note our friends use of the "Oh Shit" handle

After everyone recovered, I handed it over to B. In addition to growing up in Idaho, B. used to work in Las Vegas and go off-roading in the desert quite a bit, so this was old hat for her. Even the Bedouins were impressed - laughing and smiling and generally approving of our gringa off-road endeavors. But then it was A.'s turn. A. jumped into the drivers seat with gusto and with B's command of "Drive it like you stole it!" we raced off into the desert. A. likes to drive fast, and not stay in the tracks so much. This was great fun for all, until:

Oops.

We are in the middle of the desert, with a flat tire, and no cell phone reception. One would think that carrying a spare tire is covered in Jeep Touring 101, but apparently Aatif had skipped that day. So, we had no choice but to drive to camp on a completely flat tire, shredding it to bits as we go. There were several other Bedouin men at the camp when we arrived, and they had another Jeep, so we were all set to get back the next morning.

Sleeping at the camp was relatively uneventful (and I have no pictures to share because my camera battery was running low at that point) but at dinner our guides proposed a sunrise camel ride, to the tune of 45JD. This is convenient, because 45JD is the exact amount that Aatif had mentioned it would cost him to replace the tire we destroyed. And since we were good sports, B. and I agreed to be woken at stupid o'clock and seek out the sunrise on the backs of smelly, cranky beasts of burden. (A. could not be persuaded to get up at stupid o'clock).

B. on camel

You know, even though it cost almost as much as the whole Jeep trip, and was obviously an attempt to recoup the tire costs, this was my favorite part of the trip. The desert was absolutely silent - I never understood the phrase "The silence was deafening" until that morning.

I wasn't having a good time on the camel (its a bumpy and high off the ground ride), so we elected to walk back alongside them, which gave us an opportunity to talk with the teenage boy taking care of the camels. He was very sweet, and obviously treated the animals very well - he petted them and sang to them, and they seemed to trust him. The little white one (on the right) was pregnant, and we learned that camels gestate for a whole year before giving birth. They also have long eyelashes, and despite the smell, they are pretty cute. :)

When we arrived back to camp, eggs, bread, tea, and a bright-eyed bushy-tailed A. were waiting for us.

At this point, we had to head out to get A. to Aqaba in time to catch the ferry back to Dahab. The replacement Jeep had open benches to ride in the back. There's no better way to see the desert than in the open air, bouncing along on a metal bench in the back of a 4x4.

View over the front of the Jeep

View from the Back

This is where the battery on my camera died, and so the rest of our trip is undocumented. This is sad for all of you, because at one point B. and I were sprawled out on a beach chair at the Dead Sea, in bikinis, completely covered in black Dead Sea mud, sitting next to two woman completely covered in black burqas. That picture, had it been taken, would have perfectly expressed what I loved about Jordan - the tolerance, diversity, and natural beauty that made the country such an unforgettable, welcoming, and intriguing piece of the Middle East.

This Thursday, I am headed to Georgia (the Republic, not the state) for over two weeks to get a project underway - have to say I'm looking forward to a break from the heat, pollution, and political tension here. I've heard amazing things about Georgia from everyone who's been. I plan to consume as much wine, pork, and beautiful scenery as possible (while working really, really hard of course...).

Sending lots of love to everyone - missing you all so much.