the expat experience
So, a lawyer, a Ph.D. candidate, and 3 Marines are sitting in a Vietnamese restaurant in Cameroon…
Sounds like the beginning of a joke, right? Actually, that was my weekend. I’ve discovered, via the other American residing at the Catholic mission, the expat community of Yaounde. Or, at least, parts of it.
It’s an interesting and rather disorienting experience after the total isolation of Nigeria. Where there were plenty of expats. However, due to their security concerns and hefty budgets, they never frequented the same places I did. So, I was pretty much the only foreign/white person around. Ever.
In Yaounde, there still isn’t much tourism. But, there’s a significant contingent of Peace Corps volunteers, NGO workers, teachers, diplomats, expat businessmen, missionaries, and embassy Marines. Yet, the numbers are apparently still small enough that new expats are an intriguing anomaly, to be gathered in with open arms. There are also at least a few businesses catering to said community, including a coffee shop! With broadband! And American prices, unsurprisingly. It’s frequented by said expats and by well-heeled locals. As are restaurants like “Le Papillon,” across from the Mission, run by a Vietnamese American former diplomatic brat from Orange County.
It’s all a bit much, actually. I’m entertained by the tales of expat cliques (the Marines, for example, are peeved that the diplomats keep excluding them from their parties; it’s definitely seen as a class/cultural bias). And, I appreciate the company, since I have NOTHING to do on the weekends, especially when my yurt’s electricity is inexplicably turned off ALL DAY. At that point, a 4 hour Sunday lunch sounded pretty good.
However, sitting in the oh-so-chic Espresso House on Sunday evening, I couldn’t help being a little disgusted. With myself, for paying $8 for a sandwich. And with the whole scene, which feels so outrageously indulgent and indolent. I’m excusing myself by calling it a sick day—I was in fact feeling lousy Saturday night and Sunday morning. But, I’ll be glad to get back to “normal” on Monday: work and mission food. This is just too much of a distraction. After all, I’m not here for espressos (as much as I might enjoy them).
Sounds like the beginning of a joke, right? Actually, that was my weekend. I’ve discovered, via the other American residing at the Catholic mission, the expat community of Yaounde. Or, at least, parts of it.
It’s an interesting and rather disorienting experience after the total isolation of Nigeria. Where there were plenty of expats. However, due to their security concerns and hefty budgets, they never frequented the same places I did. So, I was pretty much the only foreign/white person around. Ever.
In Yaounde, there still isn’t much tourism. But, there’s a significant contingent of Peace Corps volunteers, NGO workers, teachers, diplomats, expat businessmen, missionaries, and embassy Marines. Yet, the numbers are apparently still small enough that new expats are an intriguing anomaly, to be gathered in with open arms. There are also at least a few businesses catering to said community, including a coffee shop! With broadband! And American prices, unsurprisingly. It’s frequented by said expats and by well-heeled locals. As are restaurants like “Le Papillon,” across from the Mission, run by a Vietnamese American former diplomatic brat from Orange County.
It’s all a bit much, actually. I’m entertained by the tales of expat cliques (the Marines, for example, are peeved that the diplomats keep excluding them from their parties; it’s definitely seen as a class/cultural bias). And, I appreciate the company, since I have NOTHING to do on the weekends, especially when my yurt’s electricity is inexplicably turned off ALL DAY. At that point, a 4 hour Sunday lunch sounded pretty good.
However, sitting in the oh-so-chic Espresso House on Sunday evening, I couldn’t help being a little disgusted. With myself, for paying $8 for a sandwich. And with the whole scene, which feels so outrageously indulgent and indolent. I’m excusing myself by calling it a sick day—I was in fact feeling lousy Saturday night and Sunday morning. But, I’ll be glad to get back to “normal” on Monday: work and mission food. This is just too much of a distraction. After all, I’m not here for espressos (as much as I might enjoy them).
posted by Emily at 8:18 PM
1 Comments:
Two things
1) Are you absolutely sure the lawyer; the PHD and the 3 mariens didn't walk into a bar... I mean, they might have and you just forgot. I can't explain it but there is a deep part of me that wants them all to go into a bar. One of them should probably say "ouch" at one point.
2) You enjoyed coffee!?!?! How DARE you; sometimes I feel like I don't know who you are anymore. I'm embarrassed to be known as you're friend. I mean; it's bad enough that you're doing this whole thing to further your career; but to enjoy coffee; it's just over the line. I'm sorry; but as your friend I had to say something.
From:
Anonymous, and not Scott.
Post a Comment
<< Home