Sylvia's Journal

I bought and upgrade to business class for the last leg of the trip for an outrageous amount of points, 45500 – worth nearly two free round trips in the US but it was worth it. I was one of only a handful of people in the spacious cabin, without even a neighbor when they started moving people to the front out of an overflowing economy class. An ecstatic Scotsman plopped next to me, proudly showing his silver NW frequent flyer car. I tried to be happy for him but found myself a little annoyed about my expensive upgrade, having gold and platinum cards aplenty. Some people are lucky about these things. I have been flying with platinum cards for the last 10 years and only very rarely had such luck.

Breathlessly I read the entire book of Masuda Sultana on the plane, My War at Home. I had downloaded it on my Kindle as soon as Ghia had introduced me to her by email and now I am thrilled that I will someday meet her, in Kabul or Stateside. The book is an autobiography that starts with a 16 year old Afghan-American girl being married to a doctor 12 years her senior who slowly finds her voice and becomes an activist for Afghans women’s rights and justice for victims of US bombing attacks after 9/11 in Kandahar. It’s also a book about leadership for people who think they have no voice.

After I finished the book I finally started to focus on my assignment here in Ethiopia and drafted an agenda for the facilitator training that will start on Monday. Today I hope to meet the members of the consulting firm we hired to serve as our facilitator team. I have three days to orient them and bring them on board, after that they will run the senior alignment meeting with bosses and then run the first workshop in two places as a split team; eveyone will get a lot of practice and exposure. It’s a just-in-time kind of thing which allows us to withdraw quickly and support them from afar; a formula that has worked well in countless other places and leaves everyone with a great resources in country – win/win for all.

When I arrived at the hotel I was greeted by guards and attendants who are starting to recognize me. This time I was given an upgrade to a suite without having asked for it (frankly, I don’t care all that much about the size of hotel rooms – it’s the internet access that concerns me more). But when I opened the door to the suite I noticed clothes and other signs of life that indicated to me the room was not mine and I withdrew quickly.

The room next door was open. Inside I saw a group of people hatching some plan or another. When they streamed out and found me in the hall it turned out to have the manager among them. who apologized and invited me to take that room for the night. Tomorrow the enormous suite will be mine, he promised.

I slept well, with te thump-thumping of the active nightclub on the backside of the hotel, 7 floors down, only faintly audible. I woke up with the sun streaming into my room from the 45 feet terrace. And now I am going to have my first cup of the best macchiato in the world. It is served in the Italian restaurant 6 floors down that functions as the hotel’s restaurant.