Just Another Travel Week...

The past week went fast. No sooner did I have my new, liberating visa in hand, but I started the long trpi to Barcelona for a quick holiday. It began with an early morning drive to the Kabul Airport. However, they hold you at a gate until the terminal is ready to receive you. Amongst a sea of humanity awaiting incoming Eid flights, and along with many disgruntled German would-be travelers, it was an hour before boarding the 30 sec shuttle ride. By coincidence, the gal I was frisked with in security ended up as my seat-mate on the flight. She was on her way to visit her boyfriend. They work for a contractor that guards military mail and fuel deliveries and he'd just been shot through the shoulder, neck and jaw. Amazingly he survived and was medivaced to Germany. She's the HR mgr and reported they had lost 40, mostly national, staff in the past month. Cookie delivery is a dangerous business.

Barcelona was good! Admittedly I had a bit of Stockholm Syndrome on my way there, as I suddenly missed my Kabul "caged" life and felt that this big, free world was rather scary in comparison. One good night's sleep, amazing hotel room view and morning walk later, and I was cured. Barcelona is rather beautiful. Between the views, the architecture and the history, you can really get lost in it (meeting up with one's fella helps too).

On the flip side of the surrealism coin, I had a bit of a crisis about returning to Kabul. Limbo land of: unsure if I want to go back, but not sure where else to go was not a reassuring of feeling. But fortunately it passed and the trip home was uneventful. The Frankfurt-Kabul flight was just as empty as the one out, so I had three seats at my Ambien-induced sleep disposal. Arriving at 5:30am with a full day at the office was a rough re-entry but it's Kabul life like I left it.

Tomorrow morning we fly north to Faizabad for our quarterly program meeting.

Run for the Border

Murphy has been busy this week spreading his law on thick. Sunday morning I discovered that most of my random assortment of foreign currency (UAE especially) had been lifted from the back of my sock drawer. That was a rather rude awakening and reminded me of how open all my things are when I'm not home. So I put everything of value or interest into the pseudo-closet which has a latch and made use of the lock I brought. But wait, there's more. Upon arriving at work, and checking on my visa, I learned that I still had not received my six-month multiple entry visa which meant that if I left on Friday for Barcelona, I would not be able to get into the country again. Not happy times.

I reported both situations to the powers-that-be. The money will never be returned but it turns out most of the expats here have had money stolen recently (extra financial pressure during Ramadan?). And the visa-waiting game started. Sunday came and went and no progress, the deadline of Monday came and still it wasn't completed. Finally, the decision and arrangements were made for me to get on a flight Tuesday morning for Dubai, where a visa expediter would meet me, take me to the Afghan Embassy and the visa would be procured. I would spend the night and fly back Wednesday. Long story short, the task was completed (in 2 hrs what couldn't be done in three weeks in country) and I returned to Kabul exhausted but triumphant. (Picture from my hotel room)

This morning, Thursday, I called for my usual car pick-up and was told that due to a security concern, we were not to report to work until 9am. Turns out there was concern, due to the election results, and resulting processions (which I didn't hear the night before), that something might happen. Nothing during the morning . But this being Peace Day, at noon, the windows rattled as a suicide attack went off a couple kilometers away.

It has been quite a week in Kabul.

Weekend "fun" in Kabul

This has been my first and, for a while, my only full weekend in Kabul. And I feel like I've had a well-rounded experience of what an expat does during the Friday/Saturday weekend.

Thursday night people generally go out, and often go out drinking. In our dull MC way, we stayed in at the "frat" guesthouse, played some pool, had a drink on the upstairs patio and ate apple pie. Yes, wild and crazy we are. The cook at my guesthouse used to work in a bakery in Pakistan and since I had the feeling he was itching to bake, I wrote that morning on the kitchen whiteboard "apple pie" and came home at lunch to fabulous crusty-bakery smells and the most beautiful sugary glazed, double-crusted apple pie. It looked store bought complete with an extra apple shaped piece of crust baked on top. And better yet, it tasted as good as it looked.

Saturday several of us ventured across town to a school to the weekly expat ultimate frisbee game. It was hot with no shade but a nice way to get outside and meet some new people. Very interesting to hear why people are in Kabul: former bureau chief for Washington Post, 1st grade school teacher at the international school, urban-planner in the mayor's office and mine NGO. I tried playing for 10 mins and reconfirmed, yet again, that I don't enjoy team sports.

In the afternoon, two colleagues and I went to the new western grocery store called "Finest". Not one to mince words around here. And it was pretty fine. Amongst other things, I am now the proud owner of a very large, albeit overly fragrant, bottle of lotion. Pretty exciting.

Saturday morning was spent in the office, using the internet to make Skype calls and check email. After which, my coworker Heidi took me to Kabul City Center, a little mini mall of sorts with toiletry, clothing, electronic, appliance and jewelry stores, to look at DVDs. There is an armed guard out front, and a metal detector and a bag check lady at the entrance. As she rifled through my bag she said "No gun? No knife?" And we told her, nope, not today. I don't think I will be going back. It was just a little too much controlled chaos out front for my taste. Though you never know, the need for DVDs may outweigh the hassle but I doubt it. Afterwards, we took refuge and lunch at Cabul Cafe in our quiet neighborhood. And tonight, it looks like I'll be accompanying an acquaintance and coworker as the uninvited guest to a housewarming.

And that is a weekend in the life of a Kabul expat.

Flight "Turbulence"

On Thursday, two program colleagues and I traveled back to Kabul from Faizabad. The UN flight schedule clearly listed the flight at 1p. However, our tickets and a call to the ticket office said to report for check-in at 10:30a. So we did and they said the flight was at 11:30a. At 11a, it was announced that the flight would be an hour late departing at 12:30p. At 12:15p we were told it had just departed Kunduz and would be here in a half hour. Right "on time" we departed Faizabad at 1p. Whether they intentionally try to throw people off schedule to avoid planned "incidents", I don't know. But sitting in a one room airport terminal for 2 1/2 hrs, while not horrible, is still a little frustrating.

On board, the views were again stunning - snow capped peaks this time of the Pamir Mtn range. And the flight was quick and smooth. It was the same flight attendant as Saturday, and since I greeted her by name, she stopped by my seat to ask me where I was from. We spent most of the flight chit-chatting - or rather she talked. The flight is operated by the charter company she works for. Her contract has her working 50 days on, 35 days off. She has been doing the Afghanistan gig and everyday flies all over the country on different looped routes from Kabul. She has also worked in other countries and sometimes she has been contracted on flights for oil and gas moguls. She reports that it is very interesting work and those people have more money than they know what to do with. She is from Alberta, Canada, was only home 3 months in the last year and gave me her tips for surviving Kabul, i.e. pedicures in Kabul and Dubai, buy silk long underwear and get scented candles or room sprays to cut the mustiness in winter. She and I are cut from different cloth, but it's quite possible I'll see her often if she sticks with this job, so it's good to have friends (I so want to say "in high places").

But Leanne showed her tough as nails side all too soon. Upon landing at the Kabul airport, she started into her arrival monologue and no sooner had she started to say "Do not turn on or use your cell phone until you are in the terminal", my Afghan colleague had called our radio room to let them know to have the car there to meet us. Leanne demanded he hang up, and when she opened the flight door she pointed Ayub out to the big, burly, western ground crew member. Ayub was pulled aside and given a talking to. I didn't hear the whole thing, and was of two minds whether to lend assistance or stay out of it (chose the latter), but I guess Ayub, whose English is really good, gave him a bit of lip and it did not go over well. Our office received a call this morning that MC staff will not be permitted on UN flights until we submit a letter of apology. This was his first UN flight and granted, in the US you can use your phone as soon as you are taxing in to the terminal...yes, it is all about security and while you are glad that they are so adamant about security, it is a shame it had to happen.

Bees, Calves & Irrigation

Monday bright and early we fortified ourselves for a long day in the field. Granted, this would have been a bit easier if the guesthouse warden had differentiated between those who get up for the 3am Ramadan meal and those who decidedly do not. (Note, he got mixed up and knocked on my door repeatedly Tuesday morning as well - I'm trying to embrace the cultural experience of disrupted sleep, but really, it's just plain annoying).

Along with several colleagues, our drivers and our "unmarked" jeeps with conspicuous codan antenna, we drove two hours over an unpaved, sometimes single "laned" road up the sides of mountains and through stunning valleys to Baharak District. From there we embarked on several project visits. First up was meeting with members of the bee keeping cooperative. Two hours were spent discussing the problems of bee keeping - a majority of hives were destroyed by disease, lack of access to markets, poor bee nutrition during the winter and lack of bee keeping inputs. After the meeting we visited the hives on the roof top of the leader of the cooperative. And we bought some honey from him.

Next up was visiting the building of an irrigation canal which diverts water from one of the small rivers coming out of the mountains. Later we visited an enormous canal building effort and from way up on a ridge above a narrow, steep river gorge with a damn holding back the water rushing down from between the imposing mountains. It was really something to behold.

In between the canal visits we stopped to watch calf weighing. Whether a nice coincidence or the calves were brought in for our benefit, who knows, but what seemed to be evident was that the new kind of feed the calves were receiving was positively affecting their health and weight gain, so much so, that there was a great deal of discussion about how to disseminate this information to market the feed to local farmers, improving incomes for both the feed producers and the farmers.

It was a long, bumpy day, sans much food or water as is typical of field visits, regardless of it being Ramadan, but it was good to see the projects, and the people affected by them, "live" versus descriptions and numbers on paper.

Up North

Saturday morning saw Peter and me making our way to the UNHAS flight north to Faizabad. The flight, partially funded through World Food Program, flies three times a week in a circular path and Saturday was clock-wise day. This meant the relatively short distance between Kabul and Faizabad was instead by way of Mazar-i-sharif, Kunduz and then Faizabad. The milk train of flight paths. But the scenery made the extended trip worthwhile.

This is the first time I've had to try to get back in to the airport. Turns out it's more of an ordeal than getting out. Go figure. Fortunately, Peter had done it before. Your car has to get past numerous check points manned by national police, international military, and armored vehicles of various shapes and sizes with pop-out windows that look like they should contain kitchen garden plants. Women essentially get a pass through the check points. Peter had to get out and walk through two frisking stations while at the first stop I stayed in the car and merely told the officer where I was going. At another stop I was told to enter a curtained room where two friendly ladies were sitting gabbing. I got a half-hearted one-handed frontal frisk and they only looked through one of my bags when I suggested. Instead, they advised me that Faizabad is cold.

The UNHAS flight terminal was pretty nondescript, hidden behind a couple gates and a wall set apart from the new main terminal. Our plane was a small double prop complete with a petite, glamorized, yet tough-as-nails flight attendant from North America. It was a little surreal. The trip went smoothly with 30-60 mins hops between airports.

I will be in Faizabad for four days during which time we are getting familiar with our program and staff. We are staying at the office guest house along with three visiting national staff and an Iraqi expat staff member. Because this is Ramadan, the cook prepares lunch for us, and we are welcome to join the iftar (break fast) which fortunately is at 6:15p these days. However, this morning we had to scrounge our breakfast from what was left from the 3am meal.

There isn't anything to do in Faizabad, so that means lots of BBC and Aljezeera in the evening. Tomorrow we have a 6:30a departure to go visit some of our projects including: canal building, lamb fattening, bee keeping and poultry. Stay tuned.

Night Out in Kabul

Last night, most of the Kabul based MC staff hit the town - Kabul style I'm assuming. Because the agreed upon break fast time is 6:15p - 7:30p for the drivers, we decided that would be our "happy hour" pre-dinner. One of our guesthouses is known as the frat house, namely because they have a pool table and a roof-top bar, and also because it's usually where many of the single male staff live. It is located down the street from my guesthouse so I asked a guard to escort me down the street. When you are NEVER on the street it is a strange feeling to suddenly be so out in the open.

I was the first to arrive so I proceeded to do what any guest would do, give myself a tour. What I found was not only the infamous and lovely third-floor terrace but a spiral staircase leading up to the actual fourth-floor rooftop. Up there, even more exposed to the world, I was greeted by the most stunning view. I hadn't realized that Kabul is surrounded by rather majestic mountains - or at least silhouetted at dusk, they seemed that way. Regardless it was impressive to look out over the entire city for a moment, and start to get a sense of the mystic of the place, before I decided to take my conspicuous foreign self back downstairs.

The rest of my colleagues appeared and we began the evening. After visiting over happy hour, we called for a couple cars and went out to the Lebanese restaurant. At the restaurant, we passed through what my boss has told me is called the "kill cage" - two sets of metal, locked doors manned by armed guards, where one door closes before the second opens. It is really surreal to go from the dusty Kabul street, through that room and into a totally normal and familiar western restaurant environment.

It was a great evening, eating some of the best food I've ever had, enjoying good conversation with my new colleagues and further acclimating to this new world.

Breaking out of the rotation

Not much time to write this evening - our drivers break fast between 6:15 and 7:30 for Ramadan so you either stay before or go and tonight will be my second evening in a row of stepping out in the "night life" that is Kabul - this evening with my MC colleagues.

Yesterday evening I accompanied a friend of a friend to a neighborhood bar/cafe to visit. The logistics of doing this was a bit more tricky than I had anticipated. I ended up calling a coworker to ask her "how to I leave the guesthouse?" Because I didn't know how tell this friend how to locate me, explain to the guards who was picking me up and then I needed to tell our radio room where I was going so they could track my movements. And I got practice calling the radio room to send a car to pick me up and take me back to the guesthouse.

At the cafe, there were two armed guards patrolling the street out front and you pass through two doors with speak-easy type sliding peek-holes. And the obligatory bag inspection. Then you pass into a very nice garden where numerous expats were relaxing having drinks, eating and visiting. It was a little surreal. We ended up chatting with some folks he knew who worked at UNDP and Oxfam. It was an okay evening but since I've been at the mercy of jet lag, I made my excuses and left early.

Saturday morning my boss and I are taking a UN flight up to Badakhshan to visit our field off. I'm back on Weds and am not sure if I'll have time to post while there. But I will take more pictures for sure.

Meetings, grab bags and emergency burqas

My new boss Peter, a tall, lanky Australian from Sydney with years upon years of development and emergency experience, and I have spent the last few days wrapping our brains around our newly acquired program. The program has been in start-up since March but is fairly new to both of us. This has involved meeting after meeting as we try to flesh out what staff we have, where they are located, how many more are needed, and most importantly, what they are doing. Next week we are scheduled to fly up to Faizabad to see it all first hand and get to know the team and projects in the area. Essentially the program involves agriculture livelihoods (infrastructure and horticulture) and livestock (animal health, poultry) to provide income opportunities other than poppy cultivation.

At the same time, I have been trying to get acclimated including attempting to develop a routine and make sure I have all the necessary paperwork and essential equipment. For the former, it's figuring out when and how to exercise - making friends with the treadmill (ugh) and rediscovering my yoga dvd - what to eat since it's all cooked and shopped for by Ali - and someday I hope to actually sleep through the night - jet lag has been merciless this trip. For the latter, it means getting my work permit and visa extension processed, payroll paperwork filled out, learning how to use a hand-held radio, adding various manuals to my reading list and lastly being commisioned my grab bag. The grab bag is just that, what you would grab should we need to move to a safe location for a while. It has a blanket, pocket knife, flashlight, more medical supplies than one person really needs unless you want to be a mummy for halloween, strawberry biscuits (?) and the all essential emergency burqa which I promptly tried on. It did not fit so well - apparently women's heads here are significantly smaller than mine not to mention they are shorter than me. Hopefully, I will never need to wear it, though speaking of costumes...