Moving Ahead: Learning Burmese, Week 40

Week 40 was the week where we could finally say, “We’re moving to Burma next month.”

And also, “Less than five weeks left of language class.”

Psychologically, each time we’ve advanced to a new stage in the program—moving from single-digit to double-digit weeks, hitting week 20, week 30, and so on—has felt like a milestone. And none more so yet than week 40.

The most important event of week 40 was the issuance of our Burmese diplomatic visas. My colleague and fellow language classmate submitted his application at the end of week 37, and I followed by submitting applications for V and myself at the start of week 38.

(Normally, before a new tour, diplomatic visa applications are couriered by our colleagues at the Special Issuance Agency—a part of the Bureau of Consular Affairs—as a courtesy to us. But with these particular visas, we as officers had to appear in person to handle both the drop-off and the pick-up ourselves.)

Since we applied, our diplomatic passports had been sitting at the Burmese embassy in Washington, DC. Before any of my previous assignments, I don’t recall having concerns about whether or not my visa would be issued.

Not obtaining a visa to your country of assignment is something that will actually stop you from going and will break your assignment. Just like if the United States doesn’t issue someone a visa, they cannot come here. Every country is within its rights to make its own visa adjudication decisions pursuant to its own laws.

I knew it was possible I could be denied a visa. And then we would have had to scramble for another assignment, with several months of studying Burmese down the drain. Not to mention, nowhere to live after July 31.

So last Wednesday morning my phone rang at the beginning of another class hour. It was a 202 area code. “DC,” I frowned to my teacher and classmate. I put my vibrating phone in my bag. “Probably a robo call.”

“It could be the Burmese embassy!” my colleague reminded me. “Answer it!”

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I had been checking my work email constantly for a message from them, but I wasn’t expecting a phone call. I stood up to grab my phone off the top of the cabinet. I answered, and heard the good news visas for V and I had been issued.

I pumped my fist to signal this to my teacher and classmate, and they reacted by literally getting out of their chairs and jumping up and down with their hands over their mouths. “You can pick up your passports anytime we’re open.”

Thirty seconds after I hung up, my classmate’s phone rang with the same call from the same number. Then it was my turn to jump up and down.

We tried to keep our voices calm during our calls while we were literally dancing around with happiness. That was the moment this all started to feel much more real.

“Now I guess we need to get serious about the EOT,” I said, and we laughed.

The visa issuance was such good news for the both of us, as consular chief and deputy consular chief, because it meant neither of us would have to manage at post without the other. I went to the embassy straight after class to collect my family’s package, and was delighted to see all of the visa biodata for V and I was correct. (Our names often get misspelled.)

But later that same evening, Burma was in the news for new U.S visa restrictions, making me glad I didn’t have to show up there to collect my passport in the wake of that announcement, and reminding me there may still be turbulent times ahead.

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I also requested an update on my orders and learned they aren’t likely to be issued until one month out. I am going to be hopeful and assume that means next week, or one month before we go to FACT, and not one month before we’re supposed to be actually boarding a plane to Rangoon, which would give me almost zero time before FACT.

It’s confusing and stressful not to have orders. I need to cancel contracts, arrange our packout, book hotels and flights, and confirm our departure date with our landlord, who we’ve already cooperated with to have two open house tours for prospective new tenants. Prospective tenants who, of course, want to know if there’s any flexibility in our move-out date. All I can say at the moment is, we will depart by the last day of our lease. And that’s going to be true, one way or another.

In the meantime, my colleagues on post-to-post orders have had their orders for a year and can move forward on their arrangements while I am stuck coming out of a domestic assignment and treading water.

It will all work out — a lack of orders just adds a layer of unnecessary stress and ambiguity to our move. If we’re going, and the Department actually has funds to handle PCS season — in which they have directed all these employees to go overseas and comply with their assignment start dates… Cut the orders!

I have usually found the best course of action is not to wait for the bureaucracy on anything that causes a jam-up for me. I have been at least partially successful in using my assignment cable — that has my transfer eligibility date — in lieu of orders to do things like, for example, prove to my gym that I need out of my contract because I’m moving >50 miles away.

I was also finally able to use my assignment cable in lieu of orders to start our pre-departure vaccinations. V and I are in the process of being inoculated against tetanus and Japanese encephalitis, to name a couple nasties. I was glad my arm wasn’t as sore as the nurse predicted it might be after the first round. Then again, I’m also the lunatic who got four shots in one day last year — two in each arm: flu, COVID, pneumonia, and shingles. (Two stars out of 10, do not recommend.)

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Planning for a PCS while working full-time and handling all of your usual obligations is a tremendous lift. It would be nice if it didn’t feel like every PCS was the first PCS that ever occurred in the history of the organization. But the news is good overall: we have a visa, we have a house in Burma. Steadily, we will work on putting the rest of the PCS together while still trying to enjoy our lives (and cram as much Burmese into my frizzled mind as I can).

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As people walked through our beautiful, spotless home on Saturday—where everything had its place and nothing was out of order—I couldn’t help but think how strange it was that after three and a half years in this house, it will be empty in less than two months, and we—and all of our things—will be gone.