Life is like a box of chocolates

I've got Forrest Gump in my head, “My momma always said, ‘Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.’” Yup, that just about sums up my week. And you know me, I just love chocolate! I walk into the office this Monday morning and there’s a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates placed on my desk. I study it for clues to try to figure out who its from. The only clue is a little sticker with the text, “Product of Ireland”. Hmmm can it be from Michael, our security training officer who is loved by everyone for his youthful energy and brilliant humour? When I ask him he blushes but assures me he hasn’t had any Santa Clause activities today. So do I have a secret admirer? Who could it be? The detective work continues…..

This lovely surprise makes me smile (magic cure for Monday morning blues). But I’m still on a high from a fantastic and eventful week. After a stretch of HQ claustrophobia I headed out to the field office in Zugdidi on the far western side of Georgia bordering with Abkhazia for meetings with colleagues and field patrolling. I’m thrilled to be out in the field and do what I love but don’t get to do too often. We patrol and observe in the conflict zone located in mountainous areas and talk to the few people we meet living in the rural villages. We talk to hazelnut farmers and traders, kids who love football (“You are from Sweden? Ibrahimovich!!!). I take photos. We spend hours in the car and chat about everything and nothing.

I’m happy to connect with old “new” friends and make new friends. I enjoy profound conversations, I enjoy silly conversations. I make adventure plans with friends (Batumi, Stepandsminda, Lapota). It doesn’t matter that it’s a humid almost 40 degrees non-stop and the sweat pours like there’s no tomorrow (ok I stink, but so does everyone else). It doesn’t matter that I catch a stomach bug and have a rough night (the lady that cooked is so sweet and didn’t mean it). It doesn’t matter that I’m feeling faint from dehydration (even though I’m drinking water like a horse). It doesn’t matter that the locals stare at us three girls jogging through town like we’re on Baywatch (I’m struggling to keep up with my two strong Swedish police colleagues). I don’t care cause I feel alive. Kenny calls in the middle of dinner and hears the music and laughter and texts me afterwards with, “Mom I love you. Keep living life”.

The buzz around Linn’s birthday party has been the main theme all week. She’s turning 30 and everyone is happy to celebrate her. I’m so pleased to be invited. A little “förfest” with real champagne on a dark veranda in Zugdidi felt so luxurious. I dance for hours and invent a new cocktail (vodka and fresh pomegranate juice). There are sparkles in all shapes and sizes (a golden fanny pack is worn with masculine pride), dance moves to match the hip-hop/pop/disco tunes, and laughter in varying harmonies. I’m having a great time. I'm not the only one. And Linn is glowing with gorgeousness.

I meet a Georgian top photographer over lunch and arrange to meet in Tbilisi for shop-talk and coffee. The drive back to Tbilisi takes nine hours. But I don’t care (except the last three hours when I was dying to pee). My speaker is my best buddy playing podcasts and music non-stop (I love this luxury afforded on long drives). I stopped mid-way for a lovely Sunday lunch with colleagues driving the opposite direction. I see a fat rainbow in the sky. I get a creative idea for my grandfather’s 90th birthday present (it’s magnificent!). I’m happy to finally get home to my apartment. My very own home.

The chocolate investigation concludes Monday afternoon. The surprise present is a thank you from my manager for reviewing her dissertation last week. It’s been a good week. It’s a good Monday. Yes life really is like a box of chocolates. So far I’m liking what’s in mine.