My husband is missing in action. He's worked all weekend - on Saturday until midnight, on Sunday until 5 am. Today, unclear but it's going to take a while.
He's trying to save the project, yet again. Money is running out, frighteningly fast. The dwindling dollar, the rising dram -- it's a problem for everybody. Doug is trying to ice some more money out of USAID, and I think with good reason. Abandoning the project now would be throwing much of it into the wind -- but this might not count in the larger picture where lots of these relatively small projects add up to real money real fast.
The gist of this is - instead of months, we might only have weeks left here in Armenia. We are still hoping that no, this won't happen. Our initial plan will hold. This is all just a little crisis and Doug will manage to tide things over just as he usually does.
But the truth is, I'm getting ourselves ready. The only thing is... we have no place to go.
Doug and I have sort-of-lived-together in DC before, after a fashion; I lived in Germany and just visited him for months at a time. That was in Dupont circle and we lived the city lifestyle. Book stores, Thai restaurants, indie movie theaters... it was all within a few block's walk. Ginkgo trees and the Farmer's market. Sigh.
Then we got married. Doug moved to Serbia and I moved to (within) Germany to have Alan. I spent a lot of time in Serbia with him in his/our little apartment in Skadarlia, though. We had one bedroom, one living room, and a eat-in-kitchen. Oh, and this little room that we used to change Alan in - it held nothing but a table, and some chairs but those only if you squeezed really hard. The shower had this funny thing that when you turned it on, the oven went off. We finally had an electrician come who told us, shaking his head, that if someone would have used the toilet while the shower was on and flushed it... he would have been electrocuted. Doug still gets all sentimental about this apartment and I really don't know why. It had ugly green faux leather couches, the kind that never warms to your touch, and Alan slept in a suitcase, I kid you not.
(The changing room. Sorry about the quality, it's a bad scan.)
(The balcony was the nicest feature of that apartment.)
The first time we really moved into the same place at the same time was in Serbia in late 2003, almost a year after we got married. We had a blue-and-yellow painted two-story dollhouse with a skylight. It was in the backyard of an apartment bloc on Golsvortijeva street. (Apparently, the hottest club in town is next door now. We were hip before we knew it!) We moved all our belongings, i.e. the stuff in my Germany apartment, in a blue VW van; my brother Michael drove with me and six-month-old Alan across several borders and past several dubious customs officers. Good fun.
(You thought I was kidding, about that color scheme, right?)
So, yes. A year after we'd gotten married, we finally moved in together. And you know, now that I am writing this down, it does look a bit odd to me too.
In any case, we only ever lived abroad as a family. We don't own a house anywhere, we have no "home town" other than my German home town which doesn't qualify for the long term as the demand for developmental international lawyers there is somewhat scarce. Ostheim is doing just fine on its own, thank you very much.
So, imagine the project ends in, oh, let's say January. We have four weeks after the project ends to move out of the house (meaning, USAID pays four more weeks of rent). Which brings us to February. Now the question is: Where to? Ostensibly, we are deployed out of the US and could insist on being moved back there. Just, where to? I know, some people will yell, "Here!" And while that is very nice and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, we haven't the money to do that. Also, what if we need to leave again for, let's say, Egypt? Germany is somehow much more feasible. Cheaper. Closer. Lots cheaper. Milk, you know, is lots cheaper...
But we can't make plans. Because, if all goes well, we are staying until May!
Such is the life of the international consultant. A bit... like modern art. Hah, yes. Abstract, unintelligible, unpredictable, and expensive. Welcome to our life.
Claudia,
Even though I have never met you guys, I'd LOVE to have your family nearby. I also recognize that it's REALLY not possible: at least for another year or so which misses the window. The housing market's gonna get much 'better' for all, well, buyers involved soon around here. It's already sinking, but not yet reasonable.
Posted by: Will Baird | December 03, 2007 at 07:54 PM
Come on, you have someone here who works in housing, and could find you a lovely place to stay. And it's cheaper than the coasts!
I hope wherever you end up you can at least get good milk :-)
Posted by: Carrie | December 04, 2007 at 04:42 PM
Posted by: Natalie | December 05, 2007 at 01:13 AM
Hmmm. That didn't work. I'll try again, but this time without brackets...
(raises hand and waves it)
Posted by: Natalie | December 05, 2007 at 01:15 AM
Since somebody has already offered routes to housing, I'll chime in with - I know about lots of cheap housing, on the corridor between NY and Philly, no less.
Posted by: The New York City High School Math Teacher | December 05, 2007 at 02:11 AM
Drove through your future neighborhood today. You say you miss DC ----- well, DC misses YOU!
A place for you
Pay particular attention to Brookland (area 22), Shaw (area 7) and all three locations in area 26
The land of "Taxation Without Representation" is waiting!
Posted by: Larry | December 05, 2007 at 05:28 AM