November 8th, 2017

Kiev

I didn't go to Kiev. I gave my ticket to a volunteer of ours and send her instead of me. We have too much work here at the moment and I have to take some of it off Elizabeth. She wants to do it all alone of course but yesterday she was still in her office at midnight and she started at 6.00 AM today. That won't do so I did an intervention today because if I didn't she would happily kill herself working.

So tomorrow morning we will split the work and I will go to the ministry while Elizabeth will be at the town council and we will work together in the afternoon and evening at the office.

And Kiev is just around the corner from here so I can go there next week.
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When was the last time you cried over a plate of shrimp?

I read this review from some young American girl who went to one of those super posh Indian Ocean resorts with her parents. The review was 177,653 pages long and 99 percent of it was about her gratitude to Naseem, the room service guy who is the best ever and who single-handedly makes that resort the best place in the world just by how he brings that papaya juice in the morning.

Naseem also once helped her get up when she fell on the sand next to her villa and that most definitely saved her life because this I guess:



Also, she cried over a plate of shrimp that Naseem once delivered to their suite because not only was it the most beautiful shrimp in the world but the way Naseem placed that plate on the table just made everything in the world turn grey and irrelevant. Sunsets were happening only because of Naseem and once he (or most likely the kitchen staff but whatever) placed a little flower on the tray with the food she ordered. She cried again that such people and such kindness exist in the world.

She didn't talk to Naseem much though, which is understandable because Naseem probably works 18 hours a day running around with those plates for about half the price of that plate of shrimp a month and generally staff are, let's say strongly discouraged from getting into long chats about life with the guests at those 14-star resorts.

Anyway, old and cynical as I am, I immediately imagined how this very girl would do the same review in say ten years. I guess those 345 pages could be easily condensed to something much simpler:

"Yo bitches, wassup? So listen up, went to this posh resort and there was this hot as hell Naseem-the-room-service-guy there. You should see the butt on that sob. Wanted to fuck the living hell out him every time I saw the bastard. Ta. PS: Also sunsets, flowers and, you know, all that stuff. Shrimp wasn't bad either."

Youngsters. Bless them.