Bacon

After a year of working in Turkey along the Black Sea coast, with thee friendliest people I have ever encountered, with history, culture and hospitality like I've never experienced before, I was growing weary of the fact that you might be able to find a place to have a beer, or you could head out and have some fine Turkish cuisine, but beer and good food at the same place?  Good luck.  A fun night out in Northern Turkey is backgammon and tea.  And pork?  Forget about it. 

Actually you will struggle to find anything but Turkish cuisine, good as it is.  While I've had some memorable games of backgammon while sipping tea with good Turkish friends, not to mention a wholesome year of Islamic culture, everyone was excited about our next posting; Constanta, Romania.  Night clubs and fancy cars, we knew we were in for a completely different cultural experience.  I'll never forget one of my very best friends, a jovial Finnish fellow whom I've vowed to never, EVER, drink vodka with again, piloting the other Super Puma on the flight from Istanbul into Romania (through some nasty weather in Bulgaria....a tale best told over brews), greeting the Romanian officials heading out in the dull, drizzly weather to greet us and check our papers.  The first thing out of my Finnish friend's mouth to the officials; "Do you eat bacon here?" 

Every place I've been has had it's charms, and of course, it's negatives.  I really did love Turkey, it was an enlightening adventure, but lack of bacon qualifies as a negative.  Despite the slight culinary inconvenience, I think it's in my general make up to make the best of anything and everything.   I do my darndest to take the most out of every posting, really striving to see things through a local's eyes as much as enjoying the thrill of experiencing something for the first time.  I honestly think I'd be happy just about anywhere.  You can always find something to do, something to enjoy, something to keep one sane and to have some fun.  While Turkey had it's culture and history and incredibly friendly people, Romania had her night clubs and we had nights out that we'll talk about well into the days we're plagued with dementia, assuming one makes it that far.  I will never forget New Year's Eve in Constanta (a place called "The Bank" if you should ever care to visit), although there are those among us who'd prefer to forget that evening, you know who you are.  Imagine our surprise the following day, seeing our happy faces on the local news channel while relaxing in the hotel restaurant over late morning coffee.  It was one of "those" kind of nights.  But, there was a darkness.  One could feel the pressure of a former communist regime, of the extreme differences between the generations, of struggle, the very poor, the very rich, those wanting to be rich, those pretending to be rich, and of course, the working middle-class; the good, honest people we spent the majority of our time with.  Romania has some issues they are working out and one couldn't help but feel somewhat burdened.

Now I'm touring in East Africa.  A posting I strongly requested by the way.  I haven't been disappointed.  Africa just feels more open, more free, more unencumbered, closer to what I imagine the human condition to be.  One gets lost in distractions, but in Africa, everything is reduced to a more basic struggle.  The place gets under your skin and I understand those seduced by her charms. Everything is so far removed from a Westerner's frame of reference that one cannot help but be slightly transformed, slightly reconstructed, undergoing a slight revision of one's self, if one completely lets go and is fully immersed in what a place has to offer.  Tourists take heed.

Someone recently asked me if I've ever been some place that I'd like to retire too.  No, not yet, but I have loved something about everywhere I've been.  I'm continually amazed at how adaptable we are, and I have little doubt one could set down anywhere and thrive.  I appreciate that living and working amongst the locals for extended periods offers far more insight than a tourist might gain, but the end result is that where ever you go, there you are.  You are the constant.  You are the point of reference.  But the experiences can't help but shape what you are, who you are.  I'm finding that the constant personal reconstruction as one is exposed to the world beyond one's door is becoming addictive in itself.  I truly hope I can learn to settle after it's all said and done.