The Ram of the American People

Meet Boule (pronounced Bow-Lay) the Ram of the American People. He was given by the people of Boule, Cote d'Ivoire to a visiting high-up American official. He was supposed to be lunch, but somehow ended up at the home of two of our embassy's officers. The first thing they did was give him a bath. Then a hair cut. He is one snazzy looking ram.

Note Boule's horns. If you get butted head-on (which happened to me) it doesn't really hurt since you're getting mostly forehead. If you get a side-butt (which happened to me) you get a nice bruise on your leg from the horns. So, his caretaker jokingly requested I knit Boule some cozies for his horns.

Honestly, I don't think they will really help protect anyone from those horns. In fact, the pointy ends kept poking out of the cozies. Several people have suggested stuffing bubble wrap in the cozies.

And the cozies were too long, despite the fact that I had measured very carefully.
Still I like the pom-poms.

I was originally going to do buttons to keep the cozies on, but I couldn't master button holes. So, I used ribbons instead. I had originally thought that ribbons would be too humiliating for the ram, but let's face it. He's wearing cozies. What could be worse? In the end, he didn't seem to mind. He got some popcorn, and that's all that really matters to a goat/ram.

Meine Geburtstag

No, I'm not dating! This is the owner of Le Bavarois (the Bavarian) or Wa Wi as it is commonly called. He was so delighted when 22 people showed up for what would have otherwise been a very slow Saturday after Christmas that he went home, changed into his lederhosen and returned.

Saturday, December 27 was my 43rd birthday. And yes, I spent it in Abidjan, Cote d'Ivoire in a German Restaurant where the whole staff speaks French. Such the international evening!

The sausages are fantastic, the hollandaise sauce could use some work. Though they have a tap, there is no keg attached. The staff stand behind the tap, crack open the cans, and fill up your big glass. But it is real German beer and it is nice and cold. One of the marine's commented that the sauerkraut was not as good as his mom's - but how can you compete with mom?

For the record, I received pot holders, a Vienna t-shirt (where I'll be for birthday 2009), and icicle-style Christmas lights. Some of the young people then went out dancing. I went home and made some phone calls. It was a good birthday.

Welcome to the Monkey House

There is not a lot to do in Cote d’Ivoire. Most of the country is controlled by armed militias – well controlled might be too strong of a word. But we can go to the beach, which means Grand Bassam or Assini.
It takes about 45 minutes to get to Grand Bassam. The drive itself is pretty amazing. You can see people living in shack cities by the ocean, burning piles of garbage, souvenir shacks (no real good souvenirs), palm groves, and resort/restaurants that have not recovered from the political crisis.
However, once you're in Grand Bassam proper, there are plenty of these places, and they are doing pretty well. I've been going to this one a lot with my friends Sarah and Dan. We call it the Monkey Tree place.

Because there are all these wooden monkeys hanging in the tree.
It's impossible to get a good shot of the whole tree so I concentrated on the monkeys. Anyway, the place has a restaurant, bar, rooms, pool, and access to the beach. If you are staying or eating or drinking there you can use the pool and the beach access.
Alas, I never see anything this cute or interesting for sale in the souvenier shacks on the way to Grand Bassam. I would have loved to have found something like this (but smaller) for my first Ivoirian Chrismtas tree.

The Cabs of Abidjan

Bonjour -
I have had no personal internet access since arriving in Cote d'Ivoire. But with the help of a friend, I got my pictures downloaded onto a machine with internet. Then, I wrote everything up, told the computer to publish the post and -- poof! It vanished.

Anyway, here is my first blog entry from Africa - The Cabs of Abidjan! Or, God Is My Co-Pilot.

To the point. Pardon. Every cab driver should be saying that.

I am not sure what this one means, so if anyone can translate, I would appreciate it.

"I thank God."

And I too thank God that you didn't take out my rearview mirror.

"Sacred!"

Note the black smoke pouring out of the exhuast. This is why on every pretty days, I keep my windows rolled up when driving.

"The Eraser."

As in, God erases sins.

"Father, Glorious is Your Name."

God is My Co-Pilot

Bonjour!
Finally I am posting to my blog from lovely Côte d'Ivoire. Abidjan has many cabs, and many of them have religious sayings on the back of them. And quite frankly, given the way they drive, this is not a bad idea.

I'm not sure what this one means.

Any ideas or translations would be appreciated.

This is the perfect thing to be written on the back of a cab. Just think, you're furious because they are cutting you off, or turning across your path when you have the light, or passing you on the right side of the road (IE: the sidewalk) and then you see, "Pardon" and you forgive them.

" Sacred!" I especially like this one because of the plume of black demon smoke.

"Thank God." An excellent cue card. This is what you say after the cab narrowly avoids hitting you.

I think this means, "The Eraser." Not sure how that applies to God.

Perhaps it's a comment on God forgiving sins.

"Father, Glorious is Your Name"

Some others I have seen but wasn't able to get pictures of include:

God is the Beginning and the End

Little by Little

God is Good

God is Great

and

Prais Allah

Amazingly enough, I have not seen, "God is My Co-Pilot."

A Weekend In New York

I went up to New York City for the Memorial Day Weekend. One of the places I had to go was Florent in the Meat Packing District.


When it opened in the 1970's, Florent was a 24/7 operation and its customers were club kids, transvestite hookers and the guys who worked in the Meat Packing industry. Once I went there, when the area was only just starting to get gentrified, and the waitress asked us if we would like to eat outside. Considering the view was of a bloody sidewalk across the street, I declined.

Well, the neighborhood has changed and the rent on the space was raised to $30,000 a month, so the owner is going to close it down on June 30.

The first time I went to Florent I was with a group that had reservations at a Chelsea restaurant. We arrived and the place was empty. Three of our party had not yet arrived and they would not seat us. One of the guys was furious. Grousing about how Chelsea had become way to obnoxious, he insisted we got to Florent. We did, and I went back many more times.

Once the song "My Baby Takes The Morning Train" by Sheena Easton came on the radio. Awful, catchy song that it is, people started singing along. One of the waiters turned up the radio and the whole restaurant sang along.

I will miss it. The mussels, the burgers, the breakfasts, and the desserts.

I also visited Korea Street for bibimbop, and China Town for Dim Sum. There was a Falun Gong parade in China Town.


Finally, I saw my cat, Ming.

Fun on Friday Morning

Its the Foreign Service Institute!

It got up to 81 degrees today, so I celebrated by putting on a short-sleeved dress and breaking out the legs. I got comments on how dressed up I was, but honestly it felt so good to be out of trousers and jackets.

We tend to get in early at FSI. There is an 8:15 shuttle and a 9:00 shuttle. Since training starts at 9:00, we have to be on the 8:15. So, we usually have a good twenty-five minutes to hang around. I decided I would go out and get some pictures of the Ben Franklin statue (he was our first diplomat) and the unofficial mascots - the geese.


My fellow OMS in training, Debi came with me and we got a bit silly. You can't tell, but I am putting bunny ears behind Mr. Franklin's head.

I have a joke about the geese really being robots that spy on people. Anyway, here is a picture of two of the plants trying to gain entrance into the building.