Melodrama

Dear neglected ones!

It's definitely a "play inside" day here (soggy and chill; has been for a week; the "northern" part of living in Northern Europe doesn't apply only to winters; we had our summer in May and early June here, like last year; July has been fairly unpleasant, but my stoicism is building up shares), and I'm working my way through some pistachios, contemplating a bout of ironing (the down-side of owning nearly exclusively linen summer clothes), and finishing watching part 1 of 'The Godfather', which is an amazing film and I hadn't seen it since it came out. I didn't even recognize a very young Robert Duvall and Al Pacino.

To the melodrama!

In late May, I finally had a real holiday, spending 12 days in very sunny Lebanon with my friend from my teens, Dr. Betts, who's finishing up 8 years as professor at Balamand U in Tripoli, on the Mediterranean coast, about 1.5 hours' drive north from Beirut. The trip itself, if you remember early May, was in jeopardy, but the fighting stopped in time for my holiday. They elected a president and life returned to normal (May is the usual month for wars in Lebanon).

So, I flew KLM/Air France via Charles de Gaulle (shoddy airport; don't recommend it) and out to Beirut, which has a new airport since 1996 when I was last there. The days flew by, I ate and drank superbly (even the eggs are delicious), sang Dr. Betts' two farewell concerts (a beautiful little Buxtehude cantata (one of Bach's predecessors) and bits of Handel's "Messiah"), slept a lot, revisited Byblos, a tiny Phoenician fishing village mid-way between Beirut and Tripoli and fascinating, met a few expats and Lebanese and returned to work (mega-law firm) on 10th June.

There, I heard from HR (after a telephone briefing by my very unhappy boss) that I would in fact *not* be given a permanent contract on the expiration of my current residence permit (2 July), for reasons that made no sense to me or anyone else. I was given the choice of when I wanted to leave. I finished out the week (Friday the 13th), telling myself that it all was for the good (since I loathed the job, but not the lawyers with whom I worked), and sent out a few 'SOS' emails. The weekend, needless to say, was the worst in my life, since while I could stay in Holland, in order to get a new job, I needed a permit and (yes, you've got it) in order to get a new permit, I needed a new job. So, in spite of having savings, I knew that I needed a new job instantly.

And I got one -- in three days, thanks to a friend here in Leiden. She runs a large part of the HR group (yes, there is irony here) at the global, huge ING Bank, in Amsterdam (but not a scenic part), and had been telling me about jobs there off and on for months, as I whinged about the law firm.

So, within a week I went from feeling cast-off and perhaps inadequate (while being enraged) to confirming that the law firm had been a horrible fit. I now spend my days in and out of Excel spreadsheets (which I consider great fun; I love Excel) and trying hard to coordinate efforts of many people toward the goal of my friend and top boss, who runs global training and other things for the bank. After hearing from the law firm for a year that I was one of the top-paid staffers (and knowing that the pay was just bad, compared to the US), my new top boss told me that I wasn't being paid enough at ING and that they'd see to it. Perspective is all, isn't it?

Love life: huh? I *am* determined to find a wonderful partner, but it doesn't seem to be getting any easier. Since April I had written to an extraordinarily bright, cultured, articulate, funny and overall very appealing man (via match.com) who lives just outside Edinburgh. We finally spoke about a month ago, and his voice was so mellifluous, slightly 'burred' and resonant. He came for a long weekend last week and we had a wonderful time, spending probably 45 hours together (he staying in a B&B). I sent a brief note of thanks and the responding e-mail was polite, but cool. I've stopped trying to figure out such things, but it's really frustrating, not to mention feeling as if one's lost a friend. I may be misreading things, but I'm fairly sure that I'm not.

I think I need to plan some weekends away, which I've meant to do since arriving. Maastricht (a peninsula of Holland inside Belgium) is one trip, and Gent and Bruges are two others. And when school is back in term, I'm determined to hear St. John's college choir/Cambridge in situ (and see two good friends who've moved back to Cambridge from their sojourn in Washington). One might as well have fun, if not finding Mr. Not Bad.

Have I whinged enough? It's been a rough month, in spite of a wonderful outcome. Despite sleep, it's never enough and I think it's just soul fatigue. Now, however, I think I'm securely employed. If things go to plan, I'll have a permanent residence permit in a year. The new job's commute is a bit longer, but there is NO stress at all, compared to the impossible law firm, and my work and other contributions are appreciated.

I'll send this into the ether and finish up "The Godfather" and then the linen. Sorry for the huge lapses between blogs, and I promise to do better. There's certainly enough to talk about these days!

Love,
Pamela