Internet Fail, I Fail.

July 17, 2009

Both the annoying and interesting thing about this type of work is that you are not sure when you will have work, what will lead to the next level. You show up at a fancy looking office with important people running around, only to realize that they either don’t have anything helpful to offer, or are unwilling to help you at all. Sometimes you go off to a relaxing dinner with a friend, and one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, you are sitting across from someone who knows just about everyone and everything you need. It’s exciting in a way, it’s kind of like a wild goose chase, but it is also, well, a wild goose chase.



The past two days have been kind of slow, which probably contributed to my mini-melancholia. I guess I had an overall good time, meeting the rest of the Koreans here (I’m slightly afraid I may have come off as intrusive and rude, but I totally did not mean it and am looking for ways to make up for this…) But today (Saturday) was a surprisingly good day. Started out with a huge dose of frustration as the two people I was supposed to meet decided to go MIA the morning of our appointment – frantic calls in between showering, dressing, grabbing a bite, and going through notes. And of course, internet decided to betray me as well, so I had to run to the UTC, order the first thing on the menu to get the internet code at Bourbon café. And of course, when I finally resigned myself to not meeting these people today, and started to type up some notes, I get a phone call. Could you come by Sole Luna in 40 minutes? Of course (damn you.)
(FYI: UTC is short for Union Trade Center, a big white building that is in the middle of town, with a 24 hour super market, upscale shops, travel agencies and of course, Bourbon café. Rumored to be run by the first lady, Bourbon offers better-than-Starbucks Rwandan coffee, Americanized food, chic interior, every muzungus in town, and of course, semi-reliable internet hotspot. Sole Luna is an Italian restaurant next to Beausejour, a bit far from downtown, closer to the airport. Frequented by NGO types, foreign travelers, rich Rwandans, and the likes.)


The meeting was amazing. I sat there thinking, why did I not meet this person before? I scrapped my plans to wander around town to take pictures (it was getting too hot to walk uphill anyways), and rushed back to my hotel to grab some food (I had forgotten to eat all day), and go over my notes from the meeting so I can think of follow up questions, or questions to cross check.



I ordered myself a tilapia, a self celebratory bottle of beer, and sat watching the sun set over Kigali. I even reached for one of the books I had brought to read (Hemingway’s Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises) It was strange to read about American expatriates in Paris during the 1920s, headed off to Spain for sordid adventure, self doubt, and heart wrenching love stories will I was sitting in my hotel restaurant. You know, the similarities between the expat community here and in Paris, circa 1920, are quite surprising. The healthy mix of literature fueled curiosity and adoration (like Cohen’s blind desire to go to South America after reading a piece of literature ), opportunism, a desire to both mingle with the ‘locals’ and stay afloat above them by sticking to the comfort zone of the expat community… Maybe the difference is that in Paris 1920, the hip job for an American was to be a writer or a journalist. Here, it is a NGO worker. “The problem is, Jake,” and here I quote Hemingway, “is that you are an expat. Look at you, you sit in cafes, and talk. You are an expat.” Americans in Paris flocked to cafes for company and absinthe, Americans here flock to cafes for company and internet. Flipping through Hemingway in between bites of Tilapia and sips of Primus , I felt like I was flipping through the roaring twenties in Europe and the new era of hope in Africa.










July 18th, 2009



According to the trauma counseling team staying at my hotel, July 19th is the official end to the 100 day genocide in certain regions of Rwanda. The official end is 14th of June, 1994.



Today is also the 40th anniversary of the mankind’s giant leap towards outer space.



It has also been 64 years since the word “genocide” came into being, thanks to Raphael Lempkin.
[WHAT HAPPENED IN KOREA?]



And today is also the day I realized I forgot my mom’s birthday, 8 days ago. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.






The shoddy quality of these post could the attributed to the fact that I was watching House while I was writing them. I LOVE House. I also stopped watching TV for the past three years (okay I started watching Gossip Girl but only on my computer. Different)