The Non-Glamorous Life in Colonia, Yap, Micronesia
It ain't all glory and sunsets here. This morning I arrived at my desk to find the distinctive shreddings of a large rodent and parts of my desk, a couple of files and a cracker box, but only the corner of the box sticking out from my drawer which I had unwisely left partially open. The Norwegian Rats plagued this island from some cargo ship a few years ago and have run rampant. They are two feet long, counting the tail, and have thrived. Some of the wild dogs and cats kill them to limit their numbers.
Many times, I open a legal case file to have insects, millipedes and spiders, or just lots of random dirt and particles fall out onto my lap. My boss apologetically told me that some funds had finally arrived to repair the bathroom that sits outside our office. It contains three spots to use: a toilet, a urinal, and a squat hole in the ground. In my six months here, the toilet has been operational for two months, and the urinal is over in the corner, 9 days out of 10, is flooded in 2-3 inches of water. I try to avoid going in there, but at least the squat hole always works.
This bathroom initially had two normal laminated stalls. And a door. Over six months, it has rapidly disintegrated where there are now two particle board pieces leaning haphazardly between places for deposit.
The last few months, I have been running into repeated examples of that feeling you get when (other) lawyers are trying to manipulate you under cover of some plausibly rational story. The ship rusting in the harbor? I sued the owner and operator 2 months ago and received a settlement agreement between them, and several things about it just don't quite seem . . . right. Another dilemma.
Lovin' the tropical paradise.
From the home office in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, it's # 4 on David Letterman's Top 10 things overheard at a Limp Bizkit concert: "Don't you think that the Bizkit is particularly Limp tonight?"
Many times, I open a legal case file to have insects, millipedes and spiders, or just lots of random dirt and particles fall out onto my lap. My boss apologetically told me that some funds had finally arrived to repair the bathroom that sits outside our office. It contains three spots to use: a toilet, a urinal, and a squat hole in the ground. In my six months here, the toilet has been operational for two months, and the urinal is over in the corner, 9 days out of 10, is flooded in 2-3 inches of water. I try to avoid going in there, but at least the squat hole always works.
This bathroom initially had two normal laminated stalls. And a door. Over six months, it has rapidly disintegrated where there are now two particle board pieces leaning haphazardly between places for deposit.
The last few months, I have been running into repeated examples of that feeling you get when (other) lawyers are trying to manipulate you under cover of some plausibly rational story. The ship rusting in the harbor? I sued the owner and operator 2 months ago and received a settlement agreement between them, and several things about it just don't quite seem . . . right. Another dilemma.
Lovin' the tropical paradise.
From the home office in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, it's # 4 on David Letterman's Top 10 things overheard at a Limp Bizkit concert: "Don't you think that the Bizkit is particularly Limp tonight?"