Home is where the tortillas are

As a participant in the Taking Route "Global Life" series, I mentioned our wonderful homemade tortillas (first appearing in this blog about 4 years ago). Due to requests from other sad Mexican-food lovers with a tortilla-shaped hole in their hearts, I am posting the recipe here. Buen provecho!

Ingredients:
2+ cups flour
1 Tbsp shortening*
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 cup water

* I use shortening (Crisco) as it is available here. You could instead use lard, or experiment with other fats.

Instructions:
1. Preheat griddle or metal pan at medium heat. A nice hot (preheated) pan makes a nicer tortilla.

2. Cut shortening into the flour. Add salt and baking powder and mix. Add water and mix well. I use a hand mixer with dough hooks (sounds fancy but it's not!). Once mixture comes together, mix with electric mixer for 3 more minutes, or by hand for ~6 min. Dough is sticky - if mixing by hand you may need to add flour (which is actually nice for the dough being less sticky, but makes it harder to roll thin later).

3. Let dough rest on a well-floured surface for a few minutes (there is always something else in the kitchen that needs doing, right?).

4. Break dough into Ping-Pong(ish) sized balls and set aside on the well-floured surface.

5. To shape the tortilla, flatten a dough ball and then roll it with a rolling pin or glass bottle. It is really essential to be generous with the flour dusting here!

6. Place tortilla on hot pan. Small and large bubbles will form within a minute or so. Flip tortilla to just brown the other side.

7. Remove tortilla from heat and place in a stack in a clean towel. If tortillas aren't eaten within a few hours, they store well in a bag (preferably in the fridge, if you have space and power and all that).

On Doing Something

One of the occastional (or more often, if you allow) irritants of being a "trailing spouse" is the oft-heard question, "What do you do?"

Fellow trailing spouses tend to be fairly sensitive on this issue, as compared with the average person who is employed and/or single and/or not posted abroad in any capacity. Sometimes you can even judge their own level of frustration if they offer a different phrasing, "What did you do?" Because, clearly, whatever your market worth was before you started this whole expat thing, it is different now.

And, quite honestly, at least I have the kids/family thing I can fall back on.

One of the adorable little guys available at Beguiled
Child. Hand knit by a women's coop in Bangladesh.

Regardless, especially for those of us who face a consistent stream of changing countries, the inevitable process of having to define (or defend) yourself does take a toll. There is the "eh" phase, where you are busy with whatever personal issues, goals, or travel you may have, and the question doesn't bother you. There is the "formerly" phase, where you talk about things that have kept you busy, even if they aren't currently operational. There is the, um, "go away" phase, where you have been looking and looking for some kind of gainful employment and you do not get hired; one's answer during this phase tends to be said tritely with an entirely fake smile. Then there is the blessed "answer" phase, if you are so lucky, where you get to say that either you have a job doing xyz or you are waiting on your clearance for abc job at the embassy.

Personally, it's been a little on-and-off for me with the consulting and whatnot. This fall, as I was sorting through all the edifying, beautifully made, creatively inspiring toys I would love to put in my shopping cart for the kids for Christmas, I eventually came to the conclusion that I should start my own online shop. Turns out, this is entirely doable via an online shopping website platform partnered with a US-based fulfillment warehouse.

So, look for it - coming soon! Beguiled Child, Enchanting Toys. A place to find toys both constructive and cozy, no batteries, screens, or cords allowed.

Massive Change of Pace

Don’t get me wrong. I love being in the States – life is so convenient there.

But it’s nice to be back in Nepal, despite the pretty low post-earthquake morale here. After an extremely hectic home-leave, which was difficult in ways we are not ready to talk about in the packing and preparation of our house for the next tenants, we are back with our stuff, in the alternative life we live where I don’t have to do laundry or clean toilets, have minimal gainful occupation, and can stay home playing with the girls and the dog and watch the monsoon rain pool outside (and inside, but that’s another story).  

Now, if only I had some Trader Joe's in the freezer I could get started on making dinner...

Back on the Airplane Again

After arriving back in Nepal, beginning our very sincere first two weeks at homeschooling, working nights, and getting over jet lag, I hopped on a plane to Singapore for the 5-month pregnancy scan. I was able to do the 3-month scan in Albuquerque since we were in the US anyway, but a foreign service pregnancy in many locales such as ours means a lot of extra scheduling, paperwork, and trips. Lucky for me, I like Singapore. Unlucky for me, Uncle Sam doesn’t pay for the family members to come.

Despite the doc creeping me out a bit, the news was all good! We have a healthy, normal baby girl on the way!

Never say "Never"

Two significant and vaguely inter-related events have taken life by the ankle shaken it all about. Both were pre-ordained by “I’ll never” statements I foolishly have made.

One: I’ll never homeschool my daughter. 
I actually really, really, like the idea of homeschooling. Molding the young mind, enticing her with topics and activities that she would love and wouldn’t be possible in a traditional school setting. But she and I working closely together on a daily basis? Ha! From our first homework assignment in Kindergarten (one of only two that year), where it took 30 minutes and many tears to count the number of Thursdays in February, I have had the strongest conviction that me teaching her is a Very Bad Idea. However, we have had a number of extremely frustrating educational experiences at the American school here, with the lack of actual education being so terrible and the parental scuttlebutt of next year’s teacher being so dour that we have actually discussed home schooling, for 3rd grade at least.

Two: I never want to be one of those moms with a tweenager and a baby.
Yep, I’m pregnant. After 6 years of trying to conceive and all the attendant misery, I get pregnant when I have a soon-to-be 8-year old and am staring my 40th birthday in the face. Despite the “never” statement, of course, we are absolutely thrilled. The future big sister was tearfully happy as well, and now that she has endured a number of pregnancy-related (mis)adventures (mostly, er, food-related) and had to put up with an exhausted mama, she is a little more wary. Still a good sport, however.

Currently we are on leave in the US. All the critical family members have now been told of the big news, and we are also getting a lot of practice explaining the coming school year thusly (God willing):

• Since we are, ahem, not too thrilled with the school anyway, we will start out the 3rd grade year homeschooling (aaah!). 
• Mid-November, daughter and I travel to the US, kicking our tenant out of OUR VERY OWN house. I will transfer to a midwife Ob-Gyn practice in Fairfax, have the baby there, and we will stay in the US until summer time. 
• Hopefully, the 3rd grader will attend our neighborhood school (if I can talk her into it, in a time of such major transition). We’ll stay till the end of the school year for her, and so that we can avoid a couple of trips back-and-forth to the US with the newborn (and the attendant springtime pollution that settles over Kathmandu). 
• Hubby will come to get us settled in November, come again for Christmas and baby’s birth (due first week of January), and come out a third time for US-based home leave in late May. 
• We all return to Nepal, baby in tow, in late June. 

Best Buys

We've found that living abroad entails a few deprivations--mostly minor reminders of America. There remain a few items that make our lives so much easier and more comfortable that we're frequently reminded of how grateful we are to have made these best buys.

1. VPN (virtual private network). How did we live abroad for over 2 years before we finally purchased one! It allows us to mask our location and change it virtually to the U.S. (or a bunch of other places). It allows us to view webpages (barnesandnoble.com) and services (Netflix) that are not available to people with a non-US ISP. Thus, we've been able to watch non-Bollywood movies and the Olympics (thanks CBC and BBC, but not NBC).

2. Couch covers. In a world where EVERYONE has the identical furniture including couches, ours can at least appear to the different than others.

3. Espresso Machine. Have a favorite corner coffee shop that serves espresso, lattes, and mochas?  We don't. Even if we did, we'd still be grateful to have an espresso machine to save us from a treacherous drive for some coffee.

4. UPS (uninterruptible power supply). A battery back-up to keep power on the TV, DVD player, and computer during the frequent power fluctuations/outages saves us the agony of losing work on the computer or having to re-start the movie multiple times.

5. Pam. Yes, it's that useful. You try going without cooking spray and see how your baked goods turn out.

Cave-like temperatures

If you look at the average winter weather in Kathmandu, you will find it quite reasonable. At the coldest time of year (now-ish), it gets into the low 30's at night and up to the 60's during the day. 


Despite this salient fact, if you take a vote of expat residents, you will find a majority say that they have never been so cold. Seriously! This is scientifically proven by people from Wisconsin, upstate New York, and Finland independently stating that they have never been so cold as in Kathmandu.

Why is it so cold if it doesn't even freeze? (I won't even mention the fact that it is often sunny). 
#1: Short days mean the cold, concrete brick-built walls of the house spend more time losing heat at night than gaining heat during the day.

#2: Draftiness of windows, particularly in the bathrooms, and exterior doors.

#3: No central heat. You can heat up a room with a space heater, or build a nest of blankets right next to one as my child and dog are wont to do, but the plan fact is that the STUFF in the room does not heat up. Chair - cold. Bedsheets - cold. Jeans -cold. Floor tiles - cold. Etc. 

#4: (Not applicable to those of us so lucky as to be in USG housing) The power goes out. A lot. In fact, at peak times of "load-shedding" a home might have power for 8 or 10 hours out of 24. "Load-shedding" is a term that means "there is not enough electricity to go around from our hydro power plant during the dry season so you have to take turns." Bye-bye electric space-heater, hello indoor parka.

It goes like this. One night, you notice a nip in the air when you go to bed, and turn the space heater on when you get up. A few nights later, the indoor temperature is a bit lower. A week later, even lower, as those concrete bricks start evening out with the nighttime air temp rather than the daytime air temp. Now, you turn on the heater when you get ready for bed, too, and be sure to get your clothes for the next morning out of the closet because it is REALLY cold in there (Andrew is using it for our wine stash). By morning, air temp in the bedroom is 55 F. Just try taking your tushy into that drafty bathroom that is noticeably colder than the bedroom, and you, too, will begin your day saying you have never been so cold. 

Type A's Plan

More than two months without a blog post! My two avid readers have been making occasional queries bugging me incessantly.

Many, many families at our post will be leaving this summer. Today marks the first in a round of "leavings" of families that we will noticeably miss. Lovely people with kids, one of whom is an occasional buddy of our daughter, they are most prominently remembered as the owners of the swingset our daughter fell off of to fracture both her wrists last year.

It's nice, actually, that we'll leave at peak leaving season. Enough friends will be gone that we'll all realize it won't be the same here without them, yet enough will still be here that someone will care enough to say goodbye.

As I think we've made it clear by now, we are anxious to go, with the clear exception of having to pull our daughter out of a wonderfully positive experience and education at Rosslyn Academy. The hubby has been unflagging in his scheduling efforts - between the many logistics of getting our stuff packed up and shipped out, and likewise getting consumables purchased, packed, and shipped from the States on to the next post; as well as our one-week mini-Euro tour; and finally our extensive cross-America 5-week trek, it has been quite busy. Though not nearly as busy as it'll get once the packers start coming.

What have I been doing during all this? Sitting back and simply watching him plan, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times? Mostly yeah.

We have our last and very much anticipated guests arriving tomorrow. Tomorrow! I have been scheduling their local excursions, as well as tying up end-of-year room-mom, Girl Scout leader, and regular mom stuff scheduling playdates, practicing for the first-ever piano recital, and cooking for the many events that keep popping up.

But on the whole, I have a very sluggish feeling. I'm excited about getting to leave - getting out of Africa for a few years, going on vacation and visiting family and friends, as well as settling into our new post. I'm also sad or even discouraged about leaving -- it's very hard on the wee girl, there is so much to do and organize, and without really knowing what we are getting ourselves into at the next post, I can't help but reserve judgement.

Last night we spent time with the family that is leaving today. This morning, at least I have the perspective that it's not supposed to be easy. It sounds silly - of course moving countries is not easy - but I kind of thought after a while you'd just shrug and go on. Despite the strong face and the really awesome next post for our friends, however, they are definitely feeling the weightiness of goodbyes. It's one of those times when you realize that home is what you are leaving.

I guess we do just shrug and go on, but not without feeling a few butterflies in the tummy and pulls on the heart.

The Social Network

It's not a gripping box-office-busting movie about people using technology to waste time make innovative connections (much like blogging...).

It's a Mode of Survival. I can't believe I haven't mentioned it before now.

It is the second most important reason that you are always nice and smiley with your neighbors, colleagues, and acquaintances. (The first most important being that, despite being scattered literally from wherever you are to Timbuktu, the foreign service community is eensy weensy and it's just nicer if everyone is nice).

Here is an excerpt from the classified section of this week's school newsletter:

Anisa Flowers, under the green umbrella, (next to the clay pots and garden chimneys), on the side of the Limuru Road, between Redhill Rd and the Shell petrol station before Village Market, is one of the most reliable, and reasonable suppliers of excellent quality flowers in Kenya!

Yes, that is how you find a run-of the-mill business. Without The Social Network, how would you know the lady under the green umbrella is so much better than the guy with the wooden awning on the corner of Redhill and Thigiri at the sign for the turn to New Muthaiga? Just try looking it up on the yellow pages.

Yet another benefit of sending your kid to the missionary school: Missionaries actually spend time living here, and in addition to providing hilarious or horrifying tales of the crazy things they have endured because "the government" does not see to their comfort, the Missionary School Social Network has a memory that is easily 10 or even 20 years old.

From barber to ballet instructors, if you ask around you will find someone who knows someone who can give you a phone number, and soon enough you and your family are set. Just be prepared for the phone calls, because word gets around. Soon enough someone will give your number to someone else so they can find that ballet instructor too.

My, what a nice generator you have

Outages are a fact of life in most of the developing world; power outages, in particular.

Imagine this scene: sitting in a friend's living room with after dinner coffee or standing around with a beer at someone's house party, chat chat chat. A sudden and complete blackness descends as the power is knocked off up and down the street, but conversation doesn't even hitch. Sometimes someone will give a complimentary comment on the speed at which the generator kicks in, as the lights flicker back to life (a clear bonus of being a well-heeled expat).

Streets go dark in a power outage.
Wait, we don't really have these
things anyway...

A more frustrating outage is the internet. Despite the company's bogus claims that it operates at a speed of 5 Mbps (when in reality it struggles to reach 1.2), it's really quite annoying when it is not there at all. I mean, my GOODNESS will we ever survive if we miss an email, fail to catch someone on Skype, or don't have the opportunity to post a timely comment on someone's Facebook post? OK, the Skype thing may be true for us, but the rest we don't get too antsy on. However, it is amazing how cut-off from "the world" we feel when we don't have internet. No news (our limited viewing TV channels usually go out when the Internet does), no researching activities to do, no daydreaming via websurfing about the next place in the world we might end up. The worst outage was 4 days. Which has happened a couple times. I have finally succumbed to buying a USB modem as a backup.

The third outage is water. This happened last weekend, when our water main broke and we were advised to conserve water. There is a tank in the attic which holds an indeterminate number of liters, but the chances of the fix being quick were low, since it ironically kept pouring rain so that no one could get into the ground to fix the pipe.

Upon considering our options, we decided that if we were given a choice for a 24-hour outage, we'd rather have internet than water.

How a Housekeeper Helps a Marriage

Everyone knows it takes work to have a good marriage, although it isn't always enough. If you want to put your marriage through a potentially life-long series of high pressure life changing situations with no end in sight and see how it comes out, the foreign service is a good option. There's nothing that says "uh, do I love you?" like dragging a spouse plus or minus kids (aka EFMs, eligible family members) off to a foreign developing country where there isn't even the retail therapy afforded by Target or Williams Sonoma, and leaving him/her to figure out what to do with themselves while the person who counts (the Direct Hire) gets on with their career. I actually have started another post on the brutally honest aspects of this, but I'm going to leave it... it's a soft underbelly that all of us out here have but - at least us USG types - don't really talk about.

Let me instead expand upon one of the clear marriage advantages of settling into a developing country. And that is, The Housekeeper.

Working moms the world over have the same problem. Feminism be d----ed, you know that when it gets down to it, even when your man is useful in the kitchen or occasionally helpful with other things, he never does enough. I will not go into detail, as my dear hubby is one of my few faithful readers and I would hate to run him off, but working wife/mother people out there can probably hear what I'm saying from my soapbox without me having to put it in black and white.

BUT, friends, with the miracle Housekeeper installed, like magic, all you have to work out between you is dinner and kids (and you don't have to do those, either, if you get a cook and a nanny, it's a personal preference thing though, we like cooking and we often like our kid). Suddenly, your lot in domestic life might seem like a fair trade off for his normal level of effort.

Not only this, but your sense of unity increases. Now, in the same tradition used by great military leaders over the centuries, you have a common enemy. When items in your sparkling clean kitchen are put away in the wrong place, or you can't find your shoes, or the light is left on in the hallway... It is always the Housekeeper's fault! You mutter to each other and address issues with her to no avail, but at least you are not turning your pet-peeve venom on your spouse.

This, dear USAID and missionary types, is the distinct advantage we have over those swanky, dry-martini-drinking, coat-and-tie-wearing, "our next post is Rome"-spewing  State Department rats colleagues.

Have fun with your fine local wine, high quality cheese and delightfully edible meat. But when you are done eating, you guys have to bicker over who is doing the dishes.

Fantasy Day

I wake up and stumble downstairs in jammies, because there's no one installed in the kitchen at an indecently early hour doing dishes and mopping.

I leave my home without having to go through a series of gates and wave to a dozen guards on the way out. Nor are there guards at the entrance to my daughter's school where I drop her off, who ask questions about her behavior or demeanor that in my own culture are none of their business.

The street is wide and smooth, with no inexplicable speed bumps or outrageously poorly maintained asphalt, and no one attempts to make 3 or 4 lanes out of what is painted as 2 lanes.

Children are walking to school in shoes, on sidewalks, and I don't have to swerve into oncoming traffic to go around men struggling to push an overloaded cart up the hill.

There's a the drive-through at Starbuck's, and the cashier is curt but polite, and doesn't ask what else is in my wallet when I hand her some bills that require change.

There are traffic lights, stop signs, and signs indicating street names. I do not see anyone driving the wrong way in my lane even once, and buses and trucks are able to maintain a speed greater than 15km an hour.

At the grocery store, I find a parking space that is not on the sidewalk. I do not have to be searched to enter the store; nor is there a soldier sitting outside the store with a rifle. At the butcher, when there is a busted sewer drainage pipe and they have to dig under the floor to repair it, they actually close the shop, rather than continuing to do business with an open sewer pipe in the store.

After school/work conversation with the neighbors does not revolve around the recommended frequency of deworming or best places to use for importing heavy duty shocks and struts.

For dinner I pull out some frozen risotto, salad-in-a-bag, baby carrots, and hummus, and steak that is so fresh I can't even smell the "eau de butcher".

We enjoy a peaceful dinner uninterrupted by people asking us to test our house alarm or distrubingly loud crashing or popping noises from the road across the way.

Later, we sit down and flip through way-more-than-8-including-sports-and-news channels. Nothing is on, so we settle on my default: House Hunters International. Thing is, that show always makes me wish I could live someplace that's more interesting.

Overheard at the UN

While my husband and I were having lunch at a lovely table outdoors at the UNON food court today a gentleman and lady walked by at a business-like clip carrying their food trays. We heard a snatch of their conversation as the click of their heels on the sidewalk approached and then faded.

Him: Are you settling in OK?

Her: Yes thanks.

Him: Do you miss Lebanon?

Her: God, no.

Madam Secretary

If a winning smile, long sleek hair, fashionable use of the color black, and a love of travel is what it takes to be Secretary of State, we may have a future cabinet member in the family.

Secretary Clinton and some great kids, August 5, 2012.

Making it home

It's not that you can't get stuff in Nairobi, because you really can. But it's usually expensive and not as good as you were hoping. We enjoy cooking and have always done a number of items from scratch out of the pure principal of the thing. Now we have expanded our repertoire. I am looking at it as practice for when we have our own little bed & breakfast / adventure outfitter (one of many "we'll settle somewhere, someday" dreams).

Naturally, there is weekend pizza. This one I took a picture of because of the bubble-monster that formed. But it was yummy.

There is also homemade lasagna. I made the noodles (don't have to, but we do) and the sauce, and seasoned minced beef to taste like sausage. I did not make the cheese, I bought that (thank you Brown's).

Mexican night is at least one night a week at our house. I make our tortillas, and Andrew makes the refried beans and salsa (except for right now, when we are flying high on a Sadie's salsa care package from mom!). I also make muffins and homemade granola or granola bars for school snacks and munchies. I make hummus and all other manner of dried-legume preparations.

We make bagels - including Andrew's sourdough bagels which are in addition to his previously perfected sourdough bread and Saturday morning sourdough pancake ritual.

The thing is, in 2 years we won't be in this kitchen or house or country, but we can still have Mexican night and Saturday pancakes.

Home is where you make it.

Things I don't miss

• Home Despot Depot
• Election year campaign ads
• Forecasts of "wintry mix"
• Cleaning toilets
• Hiring contractors
• Stink bugs and mosquito swarms
• DC-area customer service charm
• Utility bills
• Seeing zebras, rhinos, and giraffes at the zoo instead of in the wild

Things I miss

• Safety seals that both seal and are safe
• Shopping, pick a store (except Home Depot) 
• Actual television programming
• Snow
• Driving around without dealing with the panic first
• Pre-packaged food options (our fave salsa, canned soup)
• Trolling the garden center for annuals and herbs 
• The relative ease of seeing family

Why my housekeeper thinks I'm crazy...

Our housekeeper: a kind and cheerful emissary from the real Kenya into our own little Pleasantville. She cleans like a fiend, as noted in a previous post, and we are really her first expat family. With this comes a world of intercultural exchange and misunderstanding. So the top 10 reasons my housekeeper thinks I'm crazy, mind you from her perspective:

10. My child colors, cuts, hole-punches, glues, folds, and proudly displays every scrap of paper she can get her hands on... and I'm OK with it.

9. We do not shove all furniture against the walls.

8. We keep a tennis ball in the guest room.

7. We keep our shoes inside.

6. We have all these things sitting near the bathroom sink that she is forced to push into the far corner every day to make it habitable.

5. I had her make pasta and hand-cut it instead of using the perfectly good cutter on the pasta machine.

4. We keep used coffee grounds and eggshells in a can on the kitchen counter, and she is not allowed to throw them away and wash out the can.

3. We are obsessed about making sure the trashcan, dishwasher, and washing machine are full before anything is done about them.

2. We eat cheese but not goat.

1. I had her cook fish in the toaster.

Interchangeable parts

We had the next-door neighbors over for dinner. Their young child says to me, "Our house is just like this one, except that it has a Mickey Mouse puzzle instead of a Star Wars puzzle."

Trying not to be too existential about that...

Night night

As he's climbing into bed after locking the safe-haven gate, Andrew says, "If I'm ever thrown in prison the sound of lock-up will feel like home."