Russia – Travel and Tomsk

June 25, 2010 at 5:17 am (Russia, Travel)

After a mere 30 hours, I arrived in Moscow Wednesday evening and in Tomsk very early Thursday morning.

The most startling thing when I arrived in Moscow was that walking from the plane to passport control, it was totally silent. Not a sound.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in an airport that was so silent.  It was very eerie, and I didn’t understand it at all – and there was no one to ask.

Wandering through the airport in Moscow, I approached various people, seeking directions for where I needed to go. “Do you speak English?” I asked repeatedly. “A ‘liddle’” was usually the reply. But, without fail, they sent me in the right direction (unlike Egypt, where they feel obligated to tell you something, even if they have no idea! :)  )

Leaving Moscow at almost 11 pm, I was struck that it was still somewhat light out.  The sun had just set, and once we were in the sky, there was a constant sunrise as I looked out the window to my left. It’s strange to be travelling for hours and seeing the red sky of dawn the whole way.  As we approached Tomsk, I saw forest everywhere, broken by the occasional village.

In Tomsk, I was met by two people from my office, who had willingly (I think) arrived in time for my 6 a.m. arrival. They saw me safely to my hotel and made sure my check-in went smoothly, left instructions at the desk for the taxi to call for me later, as well as instructions to get to the office.  They gave me a phone to use locally.

Once in my room, I showered and made myself human again, had some breakfast, and then was picked up by my cab driver. Riding through town was very interesting. The architecture ranges from large office buildings and apartments, the same as we have in the States, to quaint houses with very interesting woodwork around the windows, to old log buildings. It was fascinating. Traffic was heavy, but nowhere nearly as chaotic as India or Egypt.

The office is located in an industrial area, and when the cabdriver let me out, he pointed to the building straight in front of us. I walked in and showed the receptionist the paper that I had with the address. He indicated (no English) that I was in the wrong place, and waved me to the left. My directions (written in Russian) had the number 40, and he wrote 16 (where we were). I wandered through gravel parking lots (in my platform shoes) but did not seem to be heading for 40. I stopped a couple of men, showed them my paper, and they pointed in the direction from which I had come. When I returned to my point of origin, I went back in and gave the receptionist my paper with the phone number of the person I needed to meet. He understood that I wanted him to call her to come and find me. She did arrive about 10 minutes later, and we walked a couple of blocks to the office. (Her first task upon arrival was to call the taxi company that they had hired to pick me up and drop me off, and complain).

I work with teams all over the world, and most of our contact is via Skype, either chatting or voice.  As I have visited each team, our dynamics have changed drastically as we finally have that face-to-face contact and we really get to know each other. My Russian team was the last team to visit.

I knew they would be nervous, as all the teams are when the “director from the U.S.” arrives for a visit. My two teams in India seemed to be terrified to meet me, but even the Colombian and Egyptian teams were clearly nervous.  I knew the group here was, but they did not exhibit it as much as the others did, and within no time, we were all chatting away.  I had heard through the grapevine that they had many activities planned for me, but were concerned about whether they could afford to do all the things they wanted to do. I casually remarked to the Lead that I wanted to see as much as I could while I visited, and I invited as many as wanted to participate to do so, as my guest. I could see the relief.

They did not plan anything for my first night, thinking I would be tired.  I thought I was fine, but hit the wall around 4:30, so that was a good thing. I dragged myself to dinner – a light one of just a bowl of borscht – and then was renewed, so I ended staying up until 1:30 a.m. It had been light until 11, so my sense of time was all off.

Of course, I didn’t expect that I’d awaken at 5:30 with the sun streaming into my room.

I’m in the office now. We have a full schedule of activities for the weekend. Yesterday was beautiful – around 65 degrees, but today is raining. I think it’s going to be a fun weekend!!

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To Russia with Love…

June 25, 2010 at 4:40 am (politics, Russia, Travel)

June 12, 2010

I’m going to Russia next…soon…I think…maybe.  There are visa “issues.”

I was born in the early 50s during the Cold War. I lived in Florida during the Cuban Missle Crisis.  As a kid in grammar school, I did drills hiding under my desk in case a bomb was dropping (which would prepare me for the “brace for impact” position I would learn to take in case my plane was going to crash. Even at age 7 or 8, I understood that if I was taking this position in a non-drill situation, and I was screwed. ). Our teachers told us that kids in Russia weren’t as fortunate as we are because they were constantly subjected to propaganda. I could recognize propaganda when I heard it.

There was something about Nikita Khrushchev that I really liked. He visited my country in 1959 when I was 8.   I lay in bed at night and thought about my counterparts on the other side of the world. Were they thinking of me and wondering about my life? What was theirs like?  Was it hard to be an 8-year-old in Russia? Did they really live in fear?

Somehow this stayed with me as I grew – not pursued, but a vague curiosity about life in Russia.

When the Berlin Wall came down, I watched with fascination and hope for my childhood counterparts, then grown as was I. I wondered if they felt free? Scared? Hopeful? Cynical?  Did they have any idea then of how their – our - world was about to change?

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Office Politics

June 13, 2010 at 8:56 pm (Culture, Local customs and culture, outsourcing, Us vs Them)

Each of my research offices (of which there are 7) are independently owned by locals within each country (6 different countries, all outside the U.S.). We hire through them so that they can handle payroll, taxes, and the various laws regarding personnel. Unlike most outsourcing situations, we do no just hand over a project and wait for the results. We consider the researchers our staff, and they consider themselves to be a part of our company, as well as employees of the contracted company. I set the standards of performance, I discuss issues related to the projects, I give raises, in most cases, I approve vacations and other leaves. In most cases, I make the final hiring decision, based on the interviews conducted by the local people, and in most cases, I make the decision when someone has to go. I work closely with my teams, as well as with the owners and management of the companies. I rarely have a dispute with management – I am, after all, the client paying the bill.

It’s somewhat tricky to work overseas. Customs are different. Management styles are different.  I constantly think about the question, “At what point do I insert my opinion of how things should be done into their way of operating?” Fortunately, I don’t have to do this too often. In one office, run by a group of young Leads, I am coaching them in how to manage. Don’t yell at someone when they make a mistake.  It is not in your best interest to come down on someone for taking an extra 5 minutes’ break when she is your top performer.  Don’t call a group meeting and berate the under performers.  Instead, take the individual aside, speak in a calm, friendly, but firm manner, describe the problem, and ask for their help in solving it. In one recent case, point out to the individual that she is a senior-level researcher and therefore a role model for others.

But I had a small crisis in one office this week. A guy challenged a changed that his Lead made to what he is working on. The guy lost his temper, told him he did not have the authority to make that change – that only I can do that. He was yelling. The Lead threatened to fire him.

The office management was upset, had not witnessed the exchange, and had not talked with the guy who made the outburst. I promised to chat with him.  And I did.  I listened to what the guy had to say, I corrected his perception as to the Lead’s authority to make changes to his work.  I told him stories of the benefits of apologies. I also pointed out that his Lead did not have the authority to fire him. When the conversation was over, I sent an email to the management team (instead of calling, due to the time differences).  When I awoke the next morning, I had an email from the management that they had fired him.

The management has known the guy all their lives.  He is about to be married, but now, in their culture, he must break things off with his fiancee because he is unemployed. Her parents would never let them move forward. Invitations have been sent. It is a great dishonor.

So, what do I do? Do I intervene? Interfere? Say, sorry, buddy but your mouth just ruined your life?

I have appealed to their compassion and to the teachings of their religion, without success.  I have told them I feel responsible because I did not teach them the correct procedure to handle the situation (I don’t, but I’m willing to give them that out).  I have told them that I will have to manage the office more closely as I do the others.  No success. I am trying to get in touch with the guy to at least get him to offer an apology. And we are expressing our disappointment with vague threats of re-thinking future expansion.

Primarily, my issue is that the punishment did not fit the crime.  And how about a little compassion for the guy who’s losing his future wife?  How about talking to him (in the first place), listening to his point of view, pointing out theirs, and following up with a warning letter that if it happens again, it will be cause for immediate dismissal. (He yelled, after all. He did not threaten anyone.)

But there are other issues there as well. He was a senior researcher, which means he has years of experience doing our work. It takes a minimum of a month of training to bring someone up to researcher level. We are losing years of experience. And we are paying to hire and retrain a replacement.

And there is the issue of morale. I am trying to get the people to communicate more, to take ownership of their work, to offer suggestions of improvement to our processes rather than waiting for my next big idea.  Will the others become more silent because they are afraid of the reprisals if they open their mouths?  Will they challenge things they think are unfair?

And what of the guy who threatened to fire him? I have mentioned him several times, and the management ignores those statement.  I don’t want to create a climate of this, so I am refraining from writing a warning letter to him of my own.

We are at the point of just one more step (the rethinking expansion letter). If that doesn’t work, I have to accept the action taken by the office. It will be time for me to let this go and leave with nothing more than a lesson learned.

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When the visitors leave, it’s not all fun and games

May 25, 2010 at 5:56 pm (outsourcing, politics, Travel, Us vs Them)
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When I visit my teams overseas, they usually spend a good deal of time acting as my personal guides, showing me the places in their countries that they love.  They show me temples, beautiful scenic views, pyramids, the sea. Wonderful, wonderful places.  My team members are cheerful, happy, proud, and entertaining.  We all spend a good deal of time laughing.

But life in these countries is not anything close to what we experience in the U.S. In some places, they go home to a ramshackle existence. Substandard medical care. A life expectancy that is only a few years older than my 59:   India – 64.7; Russia slightly better at 65.5; Colombia’s better at 72.8. China is 73.4. Egypt is 72.12 (The U.S.’s is 78.2).  It’s no wonder that my team in India is always trying to get me to sit down and shows me great signs of respect – I am old!!  These life expectancies reflect the life expectancy at birth now, so for most of us, they would be much lower.

Then there are the socio-political issues. War. Terrorism.  These people live in places where sometimes bombs go off. Or their people are engaged in war with other countries.

Political corruption is the norm. We were stunned in this day and age when someone like Rod Blogoyovich tried to sell the Senate seat that Barak Obama vacated when he became President.  In our country, we not only fight corruption within, but the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act (FCPA) levies prison and severe financial fines for trying to bribe an official of another country. But corruption is the norm in these places.  Do you want a telephone installed? Be ready to pay for it, and not just the installation fees.  Have you gotten in some kind of trouble, no matter how minor? You’d better be “connected.” You’d better have a friend who is a judge or a city official or higher.

Why not just vote these people out of office? Because elections are fixed. The population knows who will be the next President when the current one dies or leaves office.  It’s already been decided. Try to vote anyway? That could mean risking your life passing by the thugs who are paid to “discourage” you from doing so.

Egypt has been under a state of emergency since Anwar Sadat was killed in 1981. For 29 years, the law has severely limited the rights of the population.  Basically, if you’re Egyptian, you can be arrested for just about anything.  The Egyptian Parliament just extended the state of emergency for another two years.  The government claims the law is intended to fight terrorism and drug trafficking, and has limited the powers of the law, but Human Rights groups say the limitations are cosmetic and argue that the law provides for the arrest of political opponents, detention without charge and trials before state security courts which do not allow appeals.

I will be the first to admit that I am naïve. Learning that these conditions in which my co-workers and friends live is shocking to me.  They laugh and tell me that I could kill someone in their country and walk away from it because I am an American. But it’s no joke.  It is easy to remain unaware, but is it moral?  For me, it is not, because awareness is the very first step towards effecting change.

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Working with a Global Team: They Won’t tell you stuff!!

April 20, 2010 at 11:35 pm (1, Culture, Local customs and culture, outsourcing)
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Here in the U.S., there’re plenty of things we don’t tell our bosses, for a variety of reasons:

  • We sometimes hate to tell the boss a project is going to be late…but eventually we do it.
  • We don’t tell them trivial things that we’ve handled as a part of our jobs.
  • We might not tell them they’re wrong – or we might get in their face and tell them.

In general, we categorize things as “need to know.” They do that overseas also, but some things they categorize as “need to know” we would call “really ought to know.”

I went to Egypt, and the head of the office sent one of the guys who works on my team, Aban, to pick me up in Cairo, spend a day sight-seeing, and then bring me back to Alexandria.

The guy was great. We had a nice time, but as we sat at dinner about 24 hours after I had arrived, he said to me, “I have something to tell you.  I’m not Aban, I’m Hakim.”

I sat looking at him blankly, because, although I had not met Hakim, I knew his picture from our Skype, and this guy definitely did not match Hakim’s picture.

So, unravelling this, I found out that Hakim had left the company. His replacement, Aban, was hired and given Hakim’s user IDs.  The company didn’t want to bother us with this information. When Hakim returned, they created Aban’s user ID and gave it to Hakim In actuality, there were several iterations of this and so  when I met the team face-to-face they were all the people I thought they were, but just with different names.

You can imagine how difficult this was for a few days to get everyone straight, correct all the users IDs, and let everyone back in the states know the story.

It was not a big thing. but it could have been.  And I prevented it from getting worse in my company by using humor: assuring everyone that it was ok, and then distracting them with the humor of the story.

Another “don’t tell her” story:

I travel a lot of places and the customs of greeting and parting differ greatly. When I arrived in India for the first time, ready with the hug and the kiss on the cheek, they almost died. It wasn’t hard to read the body language,

Egyptians are very affectionate and emotional. I arrived there and we went out. When I was leaving the head of the office (a woman) was the first to do the two-cheek kiss.  I went down the line and kissed everyone.  Every day. All week.

About a week and a half later I was sitting at breakfast with Hakim and we were discussing that night’s dinner – I was taking the group and their spouses out.

Hakim said to me, “Tonight when we go out, don’t kiss the boys.”

Say what????

“Don’t kiss the boys. You can kiss me and Eid. We’re single. The wives will be there tonight. Don’t kiss the boys.”

Arrrrrghhhhh!!

“Do you mean to tell me that it’s not appropriate for me to kiss married men on the cheek? Really”

“No. Don’t kiss them.”

“Ok, again, Hakim, this information would have been better a week earlier.”

Later in the office I spoke to the woman who’s in charge of the office. “I understand I’m not supposed to kiss the boys. Why didn’t you tell me that? I was even kissing your husband.”

“It’s ok. Nobody wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

Well I guess that failed!!

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Prayer

April 17, 2010 at 4:19 am (Culture, Local customs and culture, Travel)
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Among the many things about which I feel ignorant is Islam. I have a natural resistance to the things we hear in the media about Islam because so much nonsense gets passed around through the media, through email forwards, that I automatically reject out of hand the things I read or hear.

I heard so many stories of the prophets – really interesting and living stories – it was fascinating.  Hardly anyone at home could tell stories like that. I form my judgments and opinions of religion on the way the faithful live their faith. Based on what I have seen and experienced, I have no reason to think of Islam as anything other than a deep meaningful religion that is gentle and loving. Yes, the followers are taught that they may be called upon to die for Islam.  And they are ready, but they don’t look for it, seek it.

After dinner we stopped at the mosque to pray, and I was honored when Ingi invited me to join her. Before going in, she wrapped my head in a scarf so no hair was showing. Several women were already there, whispering their prayers. A couple of women smiled at me as we entered and found our prayer rugs.

I knew what to expect, as a couple of times the women in the office had used my office when it was time to pray. Facing Mecca, of course (Buildings have signs pointing the direction to Mecca, including a sticker on the ceiling of my hotel room), we prayed.

Following Ingi, I raised and lowered my hands in prayer, and prayed (my own silent prayers). Then, bowing forward from the hips, we continued to pray. Then down on the floor to sit with our legs under us (like virasana in yoga), then continue forward until our forehead is on the floor, and praying. We repeated the sitting and praying with our heads down. Then up, and standing, and repeating the whole thing several more times.

More smiles as we departed the room. Ingi told me later that she heard people whispering about me, some commenting “She’s Muslim.” It was a very profound and moving experience for me, and I felt honored and welcomed by the women there. When we arrived back to the street, the men in the office were very pleased to see me wearing my head covering…which, of course, lead to another photo opportunity! :)   Every time I covered my head I got compliments.  After all these years of spending time and money on my hair – the color, the cuts –who knew that all I had to do was cover it up? Sheesh!!

I have had the opportunity to discuss religion with various people on this trip, and the biggest surprise has been how much they know about Christianity – and how respectful and honorable they are about it. It is embarrassing to realize how much they know of our beliefs, and how little we know (or I know) of theirs.

I decided to join the women in the office in their prayers the next day.

The room was crowded with me there, and we had to stand close together since I did not have a prayer rug. Before prayers, I washed my hands but did not go through the full ablution they do.  Before they pray they must be clean, and so they remove the covering of their arms that they wear (a sleeve that goes from wrist to above the elbow to ensure their skin is not exposed. They wash their hands, then rinse their mouth three times, rinse their noses, their eyes, and their faces. They rinse their arms and then their feet, so they are clean and pure to pray.  (I’m not sure I have the order exactly right, but I’m close.

One girl had an extra scarf, so they covered my head to be sure that my hair was not showing and my neck was not exposed. I’ve called Ingi “Mom,” as I feel like a child when she or one of the other girl prepares me to pray. (Ingi is 31).

We stood in a line to pray and a couple of times I stepped back slightly to allow more room for the others. Each time I did, Ingi gently pulled me back into the line.  In Islam, they pray in a line to show they are all equal. When the king prays, he prays in a line with the others. I mentioned the various postures before, but Ingi explained that when we are prostrate, that is the time to ask for whatever we want, from an important to the smallest request. Anything.

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Culture & Politics

April 16, 2010 at 6:00 am (1, Local customs and culture, outsourcing)
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When I travel to places such as India or Colombia, both my team members and the management are very gracious hosts and are interested in taking me sight-seeing during our off-hours or going to different restaurants, maybe even getting together for a few beers on a Friday night. I enjoy these people – they are very good at what they do and, as individuals and groups, they are fun and funny.  I always have a good time, and I have a great affection for these people with whom I work, and I believe they feel that way about me.

But there is always a subtle distance between us. It could be that I’m the boss (or client) from America. It could be they are in their 20s and 30s, while I’m in my 50s (In India, they treat me like I’m 80). It could be religious differences. It could be my light skin, hair, and eyes (In India, I am stared at wherever I go. I understand that and it does not bother me at all).  Most likely, it is a combination of all three.

Egypt was hugely different. I expected some animosity; I was received with warmth – everywhere. The people in my office joked and kidded with me in a very familiar way, as a friend would; yet they were very respectful.  Although the culture is very different there are aspects of it that are very much the same and much easier to assimilate.

But the thing that was the biggest surprise was the desire on the part of so many people I met to simply sit down and talk – about culture, about politics. It was amazing to me – and it was one of the things that I liked the best.

One guy, Aymn,  and I seem to always start talking about culture – he started the first evening I was in Alexandria and we talked a bit aboutSoPalestinian issues (about which I am sorely under-educated).  A couple of days after I had arrived, after dinner the whole group (there were 8 of us wereever we went) went to the home of one of the men, Ahmed,  to watch a soccer match.  Ayman and I settled in for a chat.

I told him that a guy I know in India was surprised a couple of weeks before to find out that now that my daughter Megan is no longer living with me at home with me, that I still see her on a regular basis. His impression of America is that our families aren’t that close. He envisioned me sitting alone at home, I guess, a mother abandoned by her children. (I had to explain to him that I saw my daughter two or three times a week).

Ayman told me that they believe themselves to be so loving and so close with their family and friends; but they they hear that we Americans are without emotion. I explained that we love our children like they love their children, that we love our spouses, our parents, our friends, as they love theirs (and I thought of my family and my friends who were at home…so far away).Although our lifestyle is different, I love my children and their families as they love theirs. “Love is love,” I said, “and that same deep feeling of love that you have for your family, we have four our.” My family loves me, as they are loved. He was delighted, I think, to learn this.

The first two nights I was in Cairo and one night during the week, my “guide” and his friend and I sat together and talked. They told me that in Egypt they are treated badly by the authorities for even minor infractions but as an America, I could get away with practically anything. The friend, Roshdy, had lived in the U.S. for several years and said, “I would rather be a homeless person in San Diego than a millionaire in Egypt. ” It’s a funny remark, but it’s startling to know that someone could practically disappear in a moment.

Everyone who spoke with me talked about the Israeli-Palestine conflict, and I felt woefully under-educated. I was embarrassed about my lack of knowledge.

There was a group of women who work in the office – they are not a part of the groups I work with, but I had met them and they were always friendly and polite. I knew from the CEO that they were curious about me and that each day they asked her questions about what we had done the night before, what I was like, etc. When it was time to pray, they used my office (and I surreptitiously tried to watch them). After going to the temple to pray one night, I had decided to ask if I could pray with them.  When I did, I also suggested that after we prayed, we sit and talk for a little while. My host was delighted.

We sat around the table and they were shy to start, so I asked them about where they’re all from (Alexandria) and if any of them are married (one is; the others are in their 20s and are single).

They asked me why we don’t know more about Islam, and that caught me off guard. For one thing, I said,  most of us do not know many, if any, Muslims in the U.S. (and, obviously, most of those who live among us keep a low profile. I did,however, say that I know that there are at least 3 in Rhode Island, as I had been hearing from people in the office who mentioned friends who live in our state! Go figure.

They pray to the prophets and one of the prophets is Jesus. They love Mary, whom they call Miriam, and they told me that there is one whole book of the Qur’an that is devoted to Miriam. She is the most pure woman.

They asked me pointedly why we don’t care about what’s going on in the Middle East, and I explained that we most often hear just one side. I also asked them what they thought about the Mexican immigration issue in the U.S. They looked at me blankly and said they didn’t know anything about it.  Then they ‘got it,” and realized that this is not going on in our back yard.    I promised them that that will change for me and that my next trip, I will be more educated when I arrive. . I don’t want to get into a political discussion here, but I know that in my case, I know very little about the facts of the situation in the Middle East. I feel an obligation to change that, and to learn enough about both sides of the issue to form my own educated opinion.

I admit that 2 or 3 times in our discussion I had to fight  back tears.  When they talk about killing, how do you answer “Why don’t you care?”

But always, in every case, both in talking with the women and in my other talks with the men, they were never confrontational. They were asking. They wanted to understand.

They also asked me if we think that they are subservient because they wear their head covering, and I had to search for an answer for thatbecause I don’t know that I had formed an opinion  before coming here. However, I saw  NO sign of that at all among the women I saw. They seem to be as equal as we are and the head covering is simply a religious belief.

We talked about an hour or more, and although what I’ve written about is serious, we had fun too. The guys told me later that they heard us laughing across the floor and around the corner.

After we finished, the woman who works in the kitchen (who joined our discussion, even though she speaks little English) made me a lovely tea of ginger and cinnamon – which I immediately spilled on my desk.

As I move from place to place, I learn new customs, so I not only have to change my mindset from the U.S. to the place where I am, but also from that last place I visited.  In India it’s pretty easy to know if you have made a faux pas – everyone looks enormously startled.  Not so in Egypt.

Ahmed, my tour guide, driver, food cutter (my right arm was in a cast, remember) and I had spent a lot of time together. With his charming personality and sense of  humor, we were never at a loss for words and became friends.

Sunday morning when he picked me up for work, he joined me for breakfast in the hotel. That evening, I had planned to take everyone (including spouses) out to dinner.  Ahmed said casually, “Tonight, no kissing the boys.”   I looked up. “What?”  ”Tonight after dinner, when you leave, no kissing the boys. The wives will be there.”  It took a moment for this to sink in.

For a week, whenever I said good-bye to the group, I kissed each one on both cheeks. “Do you mean to tell me it’s not appropriate to kiss married men even on the cheek? Do you think you could have told me this a week ago??!!!!”  ”It’s ok. We didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

So there was no kissing – except for the single guys it was ok. I respect their custom. But I was kind of glad I didn’t know until the end, and I wassad that I could not kiss these friends good-bye when I left.

But Ayman hugged me and kissed me for all of them, with plenty of gusto. And he apologized in case he had offended me during our political discussions (he hadn’t! I loved them!)  And he hugged me and kissed me again.

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Egypt – Better than the Dream!

April 13, 2010 at 6:23 am (Travel)
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12 March 2010 (Friday)

I went from Bangalore, India to Cairo, Egypt, with a 24 hour stop in Dubai. My arm was broken, I was in pain, I was travelling with tons of stuff. I have nothing much to say about Dubai.

Now I have arrived in Egypt. Originally, the plan was for me to go several months earlier, and the woman who owns the office where our staff works had volunteered to meet me and show me around Cairo.  As I finally pulled this trip together, she breaks the news: she is very pregnant. She will send one of the guys from the office to meet me and take me sight-seeing. That’s fine with me, although I feel badly about imposing on the poor guy.

Now I am not a nervous traveller.  I have traveled to - a little – most of my life.  I didn’t blink when I went to India for the first time -it never occurred to me to be nervous.  But now I arrive in Cairo.  Many friends back in the U.S.  have warned me that Egypt is a dangerous place.  There are some people around me who are very nervous travelers.  And a coworker told me she was nearly raped in Cairo.  That one sound a little strange to me.  What I had read on the state department’s web site was no different than most places that attract tourists: pickpockets, especially in airports and tourist areas, beware of certain areas of the country.  Nothing frightening.

But I got off the plane in Cairo, having had a very bad 24 hours in Dubai, hearing only Arabic all around me, and I felt my anxiety begin to grow.  People are dressed differently, people speak differently.  As far as people dressed differently, I was more afraid that I would offend them.  In a moment I laughed myself at my own anxiousness, noticed that people were more curious about my bright blue cast on my arm, and I relaxed.  I was greeted politely, smiled at, welcomed to Egypt, and went on to baggage claim.  A little self talk reminded me that I’m not a threatening looking person, everyone just wants to get through immigration, and my anxiety completely disappeared.

Until I arrived in baggage claim and thought I was going to choke to death.  Everyone there was smoking!  I managed to get a cart, loaded my large suitcase, my smaller suitcase, and my briefcase onto it. Holding onto my purse, my luggage, my briefcase, and steering the smart part with my elbows I pushed my way out of baggage claim area and look to find a face that would recognize mine.  There was none.  But that was OK.  Lots of people – cabdrivers -offered me rides, told me they would call my friend, and all the usual Airport talk.  However I knew sooner or later the guy from my office would show up, and although we haven’t specified a place to meet by staying where was it was most likely that he would find me.

After 10 or 15 minutes when much of the area had cleared, I looked up to find of smiling face approaching me.  As he began to pick up my suitcases I reached to grab my briefcase and he yelled ” NO!!!”  ” I will take them” he said, and that would begin what my life would be like for the next 10 days.

I followed him to his car.  As we approached, he told made that a friend had accompanied him to Cairo.  So now less than half an hour in the country,  I know two people.

It took us awhile of driving around to find the hotel -this would be another theme of my visit to Cairo.  Once in my hotel, I was going to check in, and my companion and his friend were setting off to check into their hotel.  He told me that he would be back and we could go to dinner.  By this time I had already established the fact that the two gentlemen with me were very funny and provided great entertainment.  When my companion returned we had dinner at the hotel.  He invited me to join him and his friend to meet other friends, but these were young guys in their thirties, and I didn’t think they would necessarily be jazzed by having this guy’s boss tagging along.  That would be the only invitation I would turn down from these two.

Egypt

13 March 2010 (Saturday)

I have always dreamed of visiting Egypt – and by Egypt, I mean the pyramids.  As I had approached this trip I heard both positive and negative comments about Cairo and The pyramids.  Some said Cairo was dirty, some said the city had sprawled out right up to the pyramids, and most recently my friend Michelle’s sister Nanette had said Cairo was wonderful!  At varying times since my arrival the day before, I found myself repeating over and over in my mind I can’t believe I’m in Egypt!  I can’t believe I’m in Egypt!  I was so excited to be going to see the pyramids, but a part of me was also afraid that I would be disappointed if what I had heard were true. 

My companion, Ahmed, picked me up and off we set to see the pyramids.  By this time we have established him as a pretty funny guy, and we have hit it off, so our trip to the pyramids was sprinkled with chatter and banter.  The first thing that truly amazed me, was that everywhere we went, Ahmad would roll down his window and ask someone for directions.  And of course no man in the U.S. would ever do this.  But this guy was asking directions about every five or 10 minutes or so -and at least half of the directions he received were wrong.  Apparently, in Egypt everyone wants to help, so even if they don’t know, they want to tell you something.  Eventually I would point out to my companion to watch the face.  If the person immediately broke in two directions that was a good sign.  If they start off into space for a second and then broke in two directions that was a very bad sign and don’t bother remembering what he said.

When we got to the pyramids, I was awestruck.  I couldn’t believe I was seeing this.  Many people last name if I was surprised at how big the pyramids are, if they looked different than I thought they would.  But the pyramids looked exactly as I thought they would.  I just couldn’t believe that I was here.  And although Ahmad and I had hit it off, I could not begin to discuss with him the depth of emotion and spirituality that I felt being here.  He was the perfect guide for this because I would have been diminished had I been on the tour with strangers, and I was too overwhelmed to speak about this moment even if it had been someone very close to me.  The bits and pieces of humor we traded kept me from becoming too lost in my thoughts.

I thought about those who had built the pyramid I touched the stone and he knew that not only had the cutter touched that stone, but thousands of hands, for centuries, had passed by as I was now and touched it.  As we went into the pyramid and down to the tomb, my companion was worried about the angle of the ramp and making sure that I did not fall on my broken arm.  So I concentrated and I was careful but I want to cry, I was so moved.  The pyramid, here for 7000 years?  And now I was here.  I’m always moved by cemeteries and tombs and I think of the people as they were alive.  So there were Kings, and slaves, and visitors -and all of their ghosts were here.  The slaves  especially -probably the lowest of the low – and their handiwork has endured so many thousands of years.  We don’t know their names but we know who they are.

Down in the tomb there wasn’t much to see, but we took pictures and had a few laughs.  On the way up we met a woman that was having a slight panic attack, and Ahmad guided her up, which was relieved to me so nobody was worrying that I would throw myself down on my broken arm. 

When we came out of the pyramid we wandered around and took some pictures.  We went over to see the Sphinx, and I must admit that that was smaller than I expected.

It was a lovely tour, and I enjoyed every moment.

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Hey you guys, watch this!

April 12, 2010 at 12:43 am (outsourcing, Travel)
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7  March, 2010 and

I’m posting backwards right now, as I have completed my trip to India and Egypt, and I’m catching up.  Read on to find out why I’m so far behind!

So this is my last Sunday in India and last week the manager of the team suggested taking me on a 5 hour trip to some small town to see some temple, and asked if I wanted to bring somebody else from the office with us.  I replied that I didn’t want to go on a five - and, therefore, 10- hour trip.  I want to spend time with the people on the team so I suggested that we stay in and around Bangalore and as many people who were available and wanted to join us on Sunday,  could hang out with me.  I asked for suggestions of things that we could do, and the best suggestion was a trip to a place called Film City, which is a new amusement park outside of Bangalore.  It was set that 19 of us were going to go.

We gathered outside the office early Sunday morning, boarded the bus, picked up a few people along the way, and headed to Film City. We got there maybe around 10:00 AM, visited a couple of attractions, and somewhere around 11:00 AM we found a roller skating rink.  The team,  mostly people in their twenties already get roller skates on. As I headed to get states, a voice in the back of my head said ” this is probably a bad idea.” But everyone was falling all over themselves  anyway, so I strapped on my skates and I began to demonstrate how to skate.  I did pretty well for a few minutes, and then it was all over.  I knew, but no one else knew when I fell that I had broken something.

For the next 6 hours or so I tried to hide that my arm was broken, not wanting to ruin the day from my team, and also wanting to get back to my hotel where I was confident that they would recommend a hospital for me to go to.  The day went on and on and on…  And I rather adeptly started the suggestions that I ride go karts, go on Ferris wheels, and other such activities, by complaining that it was just too hot.  When everyone went into the water, I said I didn’t have another change of clothes with me. The group head of the team knew I had hurt myself as I had told him at lunchtime.

When I was dropped off at my hotel, they swung into action and sent me to the hospital.  I returned several hours and later a bearing a bright blue cast and a diagnosis of a broken arm.  I was to leave two days later for Dubai, and then the day after that head to Egypt. But I had to be cleared by the Dr. Before I could fly.  The swelling in my arm had to be down.

I must say the hotel in Bangalore was fabulous for the remainder of the time I was there.  They met my every need, and were so kind, I didn’t want for anything.

The following Thursday I left India for Dubai.  I stayed their 24 hours, and on Friday I went to Egypt.  I probably knew the guys in Egypt less than any of my other teams, and they never have communicated much with me.  But one of the guys was going to meet me at the Airport in Cairo, and had agreed to show me around Cairo, before bringing me back to Alexandria.  I’ve really been looking forward to meeting this team.

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Greetings from Mangalore, India

February 27, 2010 at 3:07 pm (outsourcing, Travel)
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Today…

  • I crossed the street alone in India for the first time….
  • I sat cross-legged and listened to a Jain priest discuss how total is their belief in nonviolence (an associate translated)
  • I rode through the Saturday afternoon traffic in an auto-rickshaw and marveled, “How did I get here?”
  • I visited 2 Catholic churches and two temples (one Hindu, one Jain). I bowed and touched my forehead to the floor, took holy water.
  • My feet burned in the hot sun, as I walked barefoot in the yard around two temples.
  • I walked through a cool garden of Ayurvedic plants and trees.

I am in India, my second trip, and I cannot believe that I have been so blessed to have a job that brings me to places like this.

For more pictures, see

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