: Melanie Thomas Armstrong
: Chicken in a Strange Way A SoCal Beach Girl Takes on Communism
: Ballast Books
: 9781966786900
: Chicken in a Strange Way
: 1
: CHF 10.50
:
: Comic, Cartoon, Humor, Satire
: English
: 478
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
In the mid-1990s Czech Republic, no means yes, cows live in houses, and pivo is always a good idea. Chicken in a Strange Way: A SoCal Beach Girl Takes on Communism is a hilarious fish-out-of-water tale unlike anything you've read before. Melanie Thomas Armstrong, a 25-year-old accountant, arrives in Prague with the noble goal of assisting the country in its economic transition from communism to capitalism. Little can she expect the stark differences in culture and logic that await her. Over the next two years, Melanie undertakes an eye-opening journey as she attempts to understand a system that, through a capitalist lens, simply does not compute. Packed with witty anecdotes and sharp insights, Melanie's story offers a fresh perspective on life in a newly post-communist country during a moment in history that has gone largely unwritten. Alongside her, you will learn that the truth about communism is not to be found in some abstract textbook but in the accounting ledgers of cement factories deep inside the Czech Republic. Melanie shows us how two peoples struggled to understand each other after history got in the way. Whether you're a traveler, an expat, a history buff, or someone who loves to laugh, Chicken in a Strange Way might be one of the most playful takes on the clash of capitalism and communism you'll ever read.

Melanie Thomas Armstrong is a retired PwC partner and senior executive with 18 years of experience at the partner and C-suite level. She began her career as an auditor with Arthur Andersen and spent two years in the Czech Republic during its transition from communism to capitalism. She went on to lead global social impact work for PwC with clients such as the United States Agency of International Development and the United Nations. Today, she is a founder and owner of ThroughLine Consultants, where she uses genetic genealogy to help solve cold cases, and serves on several nonprofit boards, including Mercy Corps. A certified public accountant, she holds a degree in psychology from UCLA, has two children in college, and lives in Virginia with her two dogs.

EAST BERLIN

MARCH 1989
EASTER SUNDAY

KATHY AND I ENTERED THE FIRST ROOM of the border crossing building on the East German side. An armed border guard in gray, somehow an even more drab uniform than the American green, took our passports with a frown and shuttled us one at a time into a long, dark hallway. The guards were on a raised platform behind tinted glass. The light shone behind them as they peered down at me. I felt nauseous. It was like a movie about the Cold War. I felt like one of the characters being interrogated before they were shot. Three armed soldiers in gray uniforms looked at me, looked at my passport photo, talked to each other, and looked back at me again. The talking stopped. And after what felt like a very long time, the door at the other end of the hallway opened, and I emerged from the dark holding cell.

They returned my passport to me and led me into a series of additional rooms for different checkpoints. First, they checked everything in my backpack to see what I was bringing into the country. I really hoped they wouldn’t confiscate my camera. I was sureLet’s Go said I could bring one, but now I was worried. They exchanged my money. The Ostmarks felt like coins from a board game. They were weightless. As if they were worthless. How could this be their real money? I waited anxiously for Kathy to get through the gauntlet of border checks. She entered the last room, and we were “free” to go, both with our cameras and cash.

ME: “Ok, that was intense.”

KATHY: “For real.”

ME: “It was like that movieBerlin Tunnel 21. Same scary guards, a spotlight in my face, the intense scrutiny. I felt the same nervousness, wondering how it would go down.”

Then, in an instant, the final door closed behind us. Two American college kids with permed hair and strawberry lip gloss in our pockets were standing on the streets of East Berlin. We were immediately overwhelmed by the nothingness of it all.

ME: “Everything is so gray.”

KATHY: “Where are the cars?”

ME: “And the people?”

KATHY: “It’s so . . . empty.”

It was like a ghost town. The architecture was stark and downright ugly. The streets were empty but for the occasional little gray car driving by. There were no people walking down the street.

ME: “Maybe we went the wrong way.”

KATHY: “I don’t see how that’s possible since the other way is back to West Berlin.”

ME: “Maybe we just need to keep going to get to the center of the city.”

We walked further and came upon a much larger road—Unter den Linden. We turned right and strolled down this wide street.

ME: “This seems like a major road, but there are no storefronts, nothing is open, and nobody is here . . .”

Wasn’t this the capital of East Germany? Shouldn’t it be a vibrant metropolis?

We checked our