R&R NYC Style

Last week involved a whole lotta busting my butt and several extra hours at work. All of those hard efforts, however, paid off with the culmination of two successful events. I even got my picture taken with a certain someone who talks not only foreign policy, but football and classical music, too. If I ever get it scanned I will email it around. I have to say not bad for a girl from Binghamton, NY.

This past weekend I made a trip up to NYC for an alumni event. Besides reconnecting with some old friends I spent a year with in Germany after PENN, my highlight was definitely waiting in line with my sis Stephanie while she patiently waited for 30 minutes to buy 2 pickles from Gus' Pickles stand in the Lower East Side. She actually stood in line with some 20 people or so. As we walked away crunching our sour pickles heading in the direction of Il Laboratorio del Gelato on Orchard Street a mother and daughter couple asked us what all the fuss was about and whether the pickles were indeed worth it. I have to say the garlic taste was real, not so much like Vlasic in a jar. Whether or not it was worth 30-40 minutes standing in line, I don't know. Our culinary tour was just beginning though... Nearly done with our pickles, we then proceeded to get gelato. I should interject my story at this point to clarify that neither Stephanie or I are pregnant. All I can say is yes, we women are fickle beings, but I'd argue men are as well! Back to ice cream, I tried dark chocolate and green tea while Steph had mexican cinnamon, dulce de leche, and one other flavor that currently escapes me. I heartily recommend mexican cinnamon. The dark chocolate was pretty delicious, too. Of course, any visit to New York just isn't complete without a sushi outing. Every time I meet up with my friend Jen we always seem to find ourselves at 63rd and 1st at Totoya where we sample some of their eclectic rolls. This time I went for a tuna roll with shavings of coconut. It was definitely unexpected, a cool spring flavor for the start of summer.

So, after a lot of hard work, a little play is necessary. Seeing my sister and old friends while hopping around Manhattan was just what I needed. There's nothing like the NYC subway with pumping techno music and break dancers to break you out of the DC politics bubble. Ahhh, a breath of fresh air...yes, in NYC!

Shepherdesses? Fisherwomen?

Back in the days of college, usually when I was up pulling an all-nighter to finish a paper and feeling absolutely abysmal, I would take a breather with my roommate and best friend, Leah. We'd blast U2's "Bloody Sunday Bloody" or Greenday's "When I Come Around" or Pearl Jam's "Daughter" and then we'd discuss alternative career paths. My favorite job de jour was usually becoming a fisherwoman on some Greek island. In fact, I talked it up so much that Leah was ready to join me. Truth be told, in reality I'd spent less than 2 or 3 weeks of my entire life actually fishing... of course, there were camping trips with the Blizniks and times with my grandfather Wyszkowski in Whitney Point and Lisle, but who was I really kidding? Well, still, I had found my escape artist career as a fisherwoman in Greece. That was something to hold on to. After all, who really needed an Ivy League education? Was writing 20-30 page papers really going to get me somewhere someday? Being one with nature, living life with the locals, looking up at the stars every night, hearing the constant din of the ocean waves, and aiming for simplicity and subsistence, all that sounded pretty carefree and all right by me.

Several years later, Leah and I actually found ourselves on a couple of Greek islands, Naxos and Paros, to be exact. During this trip a few crazy things happened. For starters, we allowed ourselves to be convinced by two older entrepreneurial Greek men who happened to be brothers to rent a room at their hotel. We didn't put up a fuss and were fairly easy targets. For all we knew they were offering us a decent deal. I guess we were pretty green: two naive, young women without much of a clue. Those mediterranean men love to turn on the charm and they can talk a good deal. The real clincher though was the offer of a ride on the moped. You should have seen Leah's eyes light up!

Most people are probably thinking, "Wow, Greece. That must have been awesome." Well, yes, Greece in March is a time to beat the crowds, but it's actually very cool temperature-wise. And, on the islands most of the touristy villas and such don't really have heat. At night the temperature drops, and boy, do you hug whatever covers you have tightly! I think pretty much every morning I woke up with taught muscles from trying to make myself warm throughout the night.

I also had some problems with the ferries. The boats were not that rocky, but it didn't really matter. I can be extremely nauseous with the slightest roll. On a few of the ferry stretches Leah had to take care of me, figuring out where to buy dramamine and helping me find a bathroom, trash bin, or the side of the ship. I was not a happy camper, not at all.

We had our fair share of faux pas, too. Little did we know that good Greek girls do not venture out at night in the village. Rather, they stay at home. Only the men go to the bar to socialize. Perhaps the loose women of the town might come out. One night we decided we needed a little local flavor so we tried a little bar on the main seaside strip. Man, were we surprised to find ourselves the only females. That was a quick education.

On this adventure, Leah and I actually came face to face with the opportunity to become fisherwomen. Our very friendly Greek hosts (the brothers) offered us the opportunity to stay on as hotel staff to help during the summer onslaught of European vacationers. The brothers also had a spare boat or two, not very high tech, but rather of the humble sort, what I imagined Jesus and Peter out in on the Sea of Galilee. Leah's eyes lit up once again at the prospect of me realizing my dream. But, somehow, just then it didn't seem all that tempting. If I were to become a full-fledged fisherwoman, I would definitely need a more remote location, away from the trappings of strange men. My reverie definitely required a degree of solitude and that was not to be found with George and his brother.

On a rather amusing and true side note, there were some very big career decisions that were made on the course of our Greek trip. Somehow as we were hiking amidst the sheep one day, I talked Leah into joining the Air Force, leaving behind her job at AmEx. Yeah, that's how fast our brains work. One day it's fish, the next sheep, and before you know it the armed services. Go figure! We can jump the entire spectrum in an instant. By the way, the picture here is me and Leah in the Yorkshire Dales in northern England this past Thanksgiving.

To sum up, we all seem to have certain idyllic pictures of what life could be like. We dream of ways to escape the current stresses of our lives. Funny how when I came face to face with the option to fish and settle down for a while on a Greek isle, it no longer seemed so wonderful. The reality of hard work with fishing nets and smelly fish set in and it lost much of its luster. Back then it was fishing, now I dream of owning and running a bed and breakfast. I'm sure that would be a whole lot more hard work than I presently think.

You can call me fickle, but these are my thoughts as I ride the metro escalator up to Foggy Bottom on my way to work. Oh, and in the background, it's the Beach Boys, of course.

So, it's T-16. Boy, I just can't wait.

T-19

Sigh -- Today proved to be a LONG day. It's about 9:30 P.M. and I just got home from work. I haven't left this late before, so of course I tried to exit the work building from the inappropriate entrance/exit. Well, don't tell anyone, but I ended up getting myself a little stuck and had to crawl through the turnstyle. HA! No joke. I found a woman down the hall who pointed me to the correct exit, which then required a further trek to the metro. The good news is that I'm home, and therefore, I am happy.

Only 19 more business days till I say auf wiedersehen and take a week off before returning to my old post. Funny how things often go. Only now as I enter into my final weeks do I actually feel like I'm gaining the confidence and wherewithal for this particular job. While today was a long day, it was also a good day. It's nice to feel like the product one produces is, in fact, quality. However, I did have a thought while crawling through the turnstyle to reenter the building: if only 1/3 or less of your workforce are those who put their nose to the grind stone and give their all for the cause, well, the fact that the other 2/3 of the workforce leaves at 5 P.M. on the dot causes the rest of us a whole lot more heart ache as we have that many more hurdles to jump through. Of course, if everyone were on hand, I guess the labor folks wouldn't approve. Not that I approve either of unreasonable hours and demands, but I have to say, the more team players you have around you the better.

Now for some dinner.

Going the Distance

I'm not sure if it's genetics or just an innate personal drive, but one thing I know how to do is to bust my butt for the cause. On Friday, it happened to not only be my bum, but my cuticle on my right index finger as well. Somehow I was judiciously selected to put together an important package to ship overseas. I'll add, without going into too much detail, that this order originated with the Woman and came down through the various levels of the food chain to little ole me. "Of course", I said to myself, "Nice way to spend my Friday. But, if She says this needs to get out today, well, gosh darn it, I better make sure this get's done. Period." So Friday afternoon I worked my few connections in multimedia services and learned the ropes of DHL. I got a little creative along the way, purchasing, out of my own pocket, bubble packaging from the downstairs post office. If you were to stop by my cubicle you would have found a sight for sore eyes: papers strewn everwhere, bubble packaging lining the carpet, and drops of blood from my torn cuticle in my DHL package, oh, and me sitting there on the phone with a DHL woman, typing a brief letter with a blood stained tissue wrapped around one finger. To top it all off, after spending roughly 10-20 minutes coordinating a pickup, specifying the location and all, the DHL man failed to wait for me, and left in haste. I knew it was not a good sign when I got a call and asked the DHL guy where he was, but he could not find the words in English to describe his location. It doesn't help that our building is pretty much a giant labyrinthe with multiple entrances and exits. Well, to make a long story short, I spent 10 minutes at the guards' desk phoning around to all the other entrances to see if there was DHL guy anywhere to be seen. The resounding answer was "NO". So, I got on my personal cell phone and inflicted the wrathe of Christine upon some DHL representative who to his credit remained extremely calm over the next 20-30 minutes. It's important to note, at this point, it was close to 5:30 and a colleague's farewell had started at 5:15 offsite. I was told by DHL my new pick up would be from 5:30-6:30. Unhappy but relieved DHL had late pick ups, I went back to my desk a bit dejectedly. Running around the building in my heels, my back and hip with bursitis were not in good shape. I felt pretty much like a dragon breathing fire, but exhausted by the multiple hurdles of the afternoon. Once back in my humble cubicle, I immediately changed to my sneakers and set about checking the long list of unattended emails that had accumulated over the course of the last few hours. Fortunately, it wasn't long before I got a call on my cell phone. Ha, it was a new DHL guy on his cell phone, but he hung up on me. Great! Well, I sprung to action. This time I would find the DHL man if it cost me my final shred of sanity on this Friday evening. I went back to the entrance, exited the turn style, and proceeded to wait outside the building in the beautiful sunshine and 60 degree weather. After chatting with a guard for several minutes, learning his past educational and work history, verifying that he in fact liked his job for the most part, I tried calling the DHL man again and to my great joy, into my sight popped a big yellow van, probably not where he was supposed to be, but nevertheless I ran to his location, and handed over my package. I don't think I was ever so happy. Mission accomplished. And, what a mission! If only one of the THREE secretaries in the office might have said, "oh, Christine, I'll take care of that for you, afterall, that's what I get paid to do", but no, this was a day for Christine to go the distance on her own -- learning the ups and downs of bureaucracy, varying degrees of work ethics, and incompetency-- all the while paving the way, with a bit of blood, sweat, and tears. I reentered the building with a slight grin and renewed spring in my step. In the immortal words of Chumbawumba, "I got knocked down, but I got up again."

I went back to my desk, put in another hour or 2 of work and called it a day. Later that evening I rounded up Heather and Raymond to watch "Breach", the thrilling story of how Eric Oneill, a young surveillance recruit who aspired to become an FBI agent, took down Robert Hansen, the spy who sold secrets to the Soviets for close to 20 years, wreaking extraordinary havoc upon U.S. security interests.

As for the picture: me in Krakow, near Wawel Castle on a beautiful November day.