Hearty Party

September 1992. First party of the school year, Vienna, outside at the quarry.
"So, where are you from? What school did you get kicked out of?"

September 1993. College. Boston, party, corner of Marlborough and Hereford.
"So, where are you from? What's your major?"

September 1996.College. Boston, party, corner of Mass Ave and Tremont.
"So, where are you from? What's your major?"

July 1999. Notting Hill Arts Club, London.
"So, where are you from? Wanna have a go?"

May 2000. Los Angeles. Red Lion.
"So, where are you from? What do you do?"

May 2005. Ampara. NGO + IGO + INGO + UN Party.
"So, where are you from? What organization are you here with?"


Same shit. Different party. My horoscope says it's a great month for me to socialize and get to try new people. So there I was, toothpick in hand, nibbling on a mini-veggie samosa with my pint of lukewarm Lion Lager sitting strategically on the buffet table. I had just finished a very fruitful international i-Chat conference with Megan in Brooklyn, An in Los Angeles, Marie Ange in Sao Paolo, and Steph and I here in Ampara. I was feeling pretty hot shit, international jet setter stylie. I scanned the room for my new best friends, my southside crew, my Michael, my Samantha, my Rachel, my Phoebe. Hmm, not quite. Alot of business cards exchanged and some obvious hair twirling. The barbecued chicken legs were each individually wrapped at the bone so as not to dirty your fingers. Shit, these international humanitarian relief workers really know how to do it up. Eventually I did have a good laugh with the Polish girl from UNHCR and an Irish guy from GOAL. I decided I would be sassy, and approached the 3 iPods on the little stereo table. I faded out of the Ne Me Quitte Pas (one of my faves, but a real downer for a party) and put on some Blackalicious, you know, get it happening slow and smooth. I was told that the golden brown little breaded balls on the table were actually lentils, and very good. Popped a few. Guess I'll have another beer. Guess I'll smoke a cigarette. I asked for a light from the skinny french dude. He offered me his cigarette. "We are like, you know, you know zis film, how do you say in English - La guerre de feu." The war of fire. "Ah yes, zey are zees, you know, Neaderthal, man from cave time, you know and zey are trying always to keep light zee fire". Ok whoops, excusez-moi, but i have a really important SMS to send right now. So important, I'm with the International Organization for Migration. Inspired by the skinny frog I walked back to the iPods and put on some old MC Solaar, a bold move had I been in LA- but was a hit in downtown Ampara let me tell you. I always enjoy playing other peoples iPods- i like seeing them get excited about a track they already have. I think I actually saw one of the french girls smile.

I had accepted weeks ago that my own iPod was dead, it wouldn't hold a charge and was always cutting out. We were on the road to camps all day today and i decided I would hope for a miracle. And there it was. For the very first time, after hors a day everyday for weeks of driving in the green fields and hills and blue rolling waves and low wooden bridges of Ampara, I had music. For some reason, all day, on repeat, I listened to "Don't think twice, I'ts alright. Let's just say there has been a stirring in my heart that's caused me some pain this entire journey, regardless of how amazing it's been. Some people just know how to keep a hold of you, no matter how far away from home you've gone. Or how strong you think you've become. Or how much you've learned. I've tried not to think about it much, but some good old sad Bob Dylan songs on repeat were just what I needed to buck up little camper and pick myself up again. "Ain't no use sitting and wondering why babe, if you don't know by now...."

I met an Iranian-Canadian radio reporter. She was cool. She was a taurus and new the meaning of 4.20. She did a piece interviewing the women in the camps. They were complaining about how sharing tarpoline walls and the lack of privacy was driving everyone mad, because no one could have sex. I thought of one woman at this camp, she doesn't ask me for carpentry tools or fishing nets for her husband like everyone else does, but for ladies magazines and chocolate. While people ask for preschools to be set up for their kids, she says they should set up a beauty center. And even though there's dirt under her toenails from the dusty camp grounds, they're painted a strong deep red.