The Foreign Service Journal, October 2008

50 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / O C T O B E R 2 0 0 8 opportunities for field trips, including a visit to the Home Depot at Seven Corners. “Today we go to Home Depot for supplies.” “Supplies for what?” I asked. “We do community outreach. Help repair house of good Palavarian woman, my cousin. Practice speaking. Exercise. Field trip.” “This appears to be beneficent opportunity to engage local audience,” said the ambassador, using the appro- priate Palavarian conjugation. “I agree with whole heart,” said Eleanor. “I love workouts while I speak Palavarian.” “I bet you do,” I said under my breath. “Remember!” Sammy warned as he piled us into his Dodge Caravan. “Do not tell course coordinator where we go.” uru The morning of our proficiency exam, the ambassador, Eleanor and I met in the FSI cafeteria to provide each other with moral support. Pat was the first to test. “Good luck, Madam Ambassador! May you grace the testers with your immense knowledge and immaculately constructed sentences!” Eleanor cheered in an easy Palavarian patter. “You know she’s doomed if she starts talking about ancient Palavarian cave drawings in there,” Eleanor con- fided after Pat had left. “They’ll die of boredom.” “She’ll be fine.” “I think it’s best to speak from your heart, you know, with feeling,” Eleanor said. “Like my dear Rodrigo.” An hour later Pat came running back to the cafeteria, beaming. “A 3+/3+ you guys! A 3+/3+! I did it!” “Congratulations!” I said. “How was it?” “Not so bad. Oh! You’ll never be- lieve! I got the greatest briefing topic possible — art — and so I talked about how the cave drawings in Palavaria were so …” “All right, all right, that’s great, but I have to go in for my test now,” said Eleanor, picking up her things. “Wish me luck!” “Best of luck to you, my dear friend! May your heart sing a song of purity and triumph on this sacred day of proficiency testing!” The ambas- sador uncoiled her sentence with flu- idity and nary an American accent. “She’s in for some trouble if she talks about that kid she’s dating,” Pat whispered. “It’s completely at odds with Palavarian culture to boast about your love life, you know.” “She’ll be fine.” “Maybe. But what about you? I don’t think I’ve heard you say more than 10 Palavarian words since we started this class. Frankly, I’m scared for you. And quite disappointed. You haven’t made much use of your time at FSI, have you? Really, what do you expect to do once you get to post?” “Trust me, Pat. I’ll be fine.” An hour later, Eleanor came racing back. “I got a 3/3! Can you believe it! I did it!” Eleanor and Pat hugged and continued going over the details of their tests. They almost didn’t see me stand up. “I’ll see you back here in an hour, okay?” I asked. “Oh, of course! And good luck!” they both chimed. As I turned the corner I could almost hear them adding, “You’ll need it.” An hour or so later, as I emerged from the testing room I heard foot- steps galloping down the hallway. It was Pat and Eleanor. “Come quick! You have to see this!” “But I’m waiting for my test score.” “Just come!” It was all over CNN. After more than six months of political gridlock over budget allocations, military uni- forms and deciding which Beatles song would become the national anthem, the opposition People’s Non-Democratic Party of Palavaria