Hi guys,
I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been really busy. I've been in Washington DC since September enjoying all the inside the beltway intrigue and "what do you do?" conversation starters. Not quite. It was a little rough settling in, but now I share a two bedroom apartment with a middle-aged Tunisian man who is rarely at home. Thanks Craig's List!
Anyway, I also have a job working for a large-ish international development company. Several people (AKA my mom) have suggested that I restart my blog. I won't be able to write too much about work, but I will try and fill you in on what I'm up to in our (maybe not your) nation's capital. Highlights so far include mastering the mail merge and lots of pub quizzes. Please send a link to the blog to anyone you think may be interested in Mongolia or what it's like to live in DC. More soon.
PS. Please read down to "Almost Heaven" for a slice of slice of life inspired by someone else's video blog post. Expect a lot more videos.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Almost Heaven
When we would all meet up in UB to A) resupply, B) eat pizza, C) check on the possibility of a medevac to Thailand, D) fraternize with tourists, or E) all of the above, nights often ended with a trip to the Apollon karaoke bar on Peace Avenue. After some momentary attempted disambiguation, we would descend the precarious staircase and traverse the maze-like catacombs that led to one of many private rooms where we could indulge our need for American music and, not to mention, beer and cheap vodka.
The bar had obviously purchased the equipment and song book from Korea or China and the choices ranged from standards like Guns and Roses and Bon Jovi to bad Europop that Mongols would insist we should already know all the words to (because it was in English). One song in particular was a crowd favorite, because it was good for a sing-along and we often got the feeling after being in the city, or on the road, too long that we should have been home yesterday...yesterdaaay. I am writing, of course, about Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.
This choice of crowd pleaser would probably amuse and confuse all of those who weren't going through the same experience we were, especially those who had already been born when the song was first recorded which most most of us had not. No matter. Just being in a room full of people who all spoke English and knew (more or less) exactly what you were going through was enough to inspire a new found sense of common cause and (ahem) camaraderie that none of us had known before or might know again. And all of this because of a 3:00 minute song written about a place most of us had never been.
This post may be one of the worst examples of "you had to be there", but just try and picture a roomful of freshly-showered or still dirty from the country Peace Corps volunteers huddled in a basement barroom belting out a song released in 1971 and understanding exactly what it meant and you may know what it was like to be there then.
To help you along, here is the original and a couple examples of just what this song has meant to people from Jamaica to Japan.
I took my first trip to West Virginia last week when I went to Harper's Ferry with my friend Aaron. I didn't know exactly how to express the strange sense of kinship I felt standing under the Blue Ridge Mountains and over the Shenandoah River, so I described most things I saw as "neat". These words should get me at least part of the way, but as they say...you really had to be there.
The bar had obviously purchased the equipment and song book from Korea or China and the choices ranged from standards like Guns and Roses and Bon Jovi to bad Europop that Mongols would insist we should already know all the words to (because it was in English). One song in particular was a crowd favorite, because it was good for a sing-along and we often got the feeling after being in the city, or on the road, too long that we should have been home yesterday...yesterdaaay. I am writing, of course, about Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver.
This choice of crowd pleaser would probably amuse and confuse all of those who weren't going through the same experience we were, especially those who had already been born when the song was first recorded which most most of us had not. No matter. Just being in a room full of people who all spoke English and knew (more or less) exactly what you were going through was enough to inspire a new found sense of common cause and (ahem) camaraderie that none of us had known before or might know again. And all of this because of a 3:00 minute song written about a place most of us had never been.
This post may be one of the worst examples of "you had to be there", but just try and picture a roomful of freshly-showered or still dirty from the country Peace Corps volunteers huddled in a basement barroom belting out a song released in 1971 and understanding exactly what it meant and you may know what it was like to be there then.
To help you along, here is the original and a couple examples of just what this song has meant to people from Jamaica to Japan.
I took my first trip to West Virginia last week when I went to Harper's Ferry with my friend Aaron. I didn't know exactly how to express the strange sense of kinship I felt standing under the Blue Ridge Mountains and over the Shenandoah River, so I described most things I saw as "neat". These words should get me at least part of the way, but as they say...you really had to be there.
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