The inevitable sulky post

It's just sad.

Being in the field can be very lonely. You're in a strange environment, and it's hard to get comfortable. You meet people -- great people -- but they have their lives and you don't have yours. In insecure places like DRC (and virtually everywhere else I've been sent), you can't just get up and walk out of the house. Even if you can find a driver, most places are off limits, and there's almost nothing to do anyway. There's even less to do when you have no electricity, which is often. It's pretty hard even to read by candlelight, and the darkness somehow heightens the sense of being alone. Lately I've taken to walking around the house in the evenings with my radio hanging from my jeans, just for the noise. It's almost like company.

It's just sad.

I would be feeling less maudlin about this if I hadn't just found out that I'm in for another long mission, this time in a place that's even more remote (hard to imagine though that might be.) My mission here has been extended until mid-July, whereupon I'll come home for a mere two weeks before shipping out to the Central African Republic for two months. If that wasn't bad enough, I'll be in the field in CAR, not even in Bangui. (That's the capital. If you haven't heard of it, which you almost certainly haven't, I rest my case.)

I keep telling myself this is good for my career. I keep telling myself it will be another amazing experience. Just now, though, I'm feeling pretty homesick and in the mood for some very pedestrian experiences. I've never once taken living in New York for granted, but the city has never seemed like such a wonderland as it does right now. And don't even get me started on the family and friends...

*sigh*