Blanketed with over-priced, high rise condos, inhabited by the white, upper class of the U.S., it is refreshing to land in an estuary of others from distant lands. Be it South Americans working in economics at the World Bank, Eastern Europeans working for their embassies or the IMF, or Mongolians in IT. There is something to be said about rarely hearing your mother tongue in the elevator or laundry room.
Experiences rooted by living in such circumstances are scary, but very cool. Like when a Mongolian family tried cooking a turkey on Thanksgiving. Being the pragmatic people they are, when the damn bird wouldn't fit in the oven, they just left it open; allowing them to meet our fantastic Arlington Fire Dept. Or the time when my Argentine neighbor asked me to request a couple of Cambodian lesbians to turn down their music so she could sleep. Concierges are East Indian, Filipino, Ukrainian and Moroccan; pool lifeguards all from the Czech Republic.
With North, South, East and West plastering each of the four edifices, it's no wonder that residents come from each corner of the globe. Rather than seeing barbwire, names of past/ present lovers, or fancy designs; Genghis Khan like helmets tattoo the shoulders of gym rats. While free morning coffee, newspapers, shuttle service and a computer/fax/printer center are cute attractions, I wouldn't trade nights of authentic Turkish coffee with the ambassadors assistant, or first hand accounts of Mother Teresa in India, for anything. Those that enjoy the former, please, do us all a favor and stay put.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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