Greg and I enter a movie theater in Bristol, UK...
G: (To the ticket saleswoman) Hi, we just got in from Afghanistan and we don't know what's going on. Can you make a movie recommendation?
Ticket Saleswoman: Uhhh.....Shrek?
24 July 2010
19 July 2010
Exit Strategy
I'm on the move in the next couple of days, but stay tuned! More updates to come on the blog...
17 July 2010
The Plot
It was another beautiful night in Kabul. I was on the terrace, watching the bats flit around a neighboring floodlight and thinking over a few things. Earlier in the evening, in a kind and thoughtful gesture from the government of Afghanistan, a Colonel with the National Directorate of Security (NDS) stopped by and informed me they had received intelligence that I was the target of a kidnapping plot. Unfortunately I wasn’t noteworthy enough to be a political kidnapping; this one was going to be for financial purposes. These would-be kidnappers obviously hadn’t seen my 2009 income tax returns.
A kidnapping would be a big fiasco for me personally. Maybe if it had happened earlier in my stay, I would have had the energy for that sort of thing, but I had been living and working in Kabul for months already. I was tired and frayed around the edges. Besides, I had led the majority of my loved ones to believe I was in India and it seemed hurtful for them to learn the truth from a Yahoo! news brief.
What to do? Well, Kabul Conference was coming up, which meant lockdown was at hand in a few days and movement around the city would become nearly impossible. The Colonel from NDS had suggested I disappear for a week, possibly take up residence in another hotel such as the Serena or the InterContinental. Both seemed unlikely options, as they were not within the budget of a civil servant such as yours truly and would soon be loaded with guests who were political kidnapping worthy. Besides, I already knew the risks at my current site: it was haunted by freaky ghosts and people were trying to kidnap me. Who knew what I would face at the new location?
My visa expiration was rapidly approaching anyway, and my departure from Afghanistan was imminent—less than a week away. Although I was going to miss my Central Asian home, it was time for a vacation.
A kidnapping would be a big fiasco for me personally. Maybe if it had happened earlier in my stay, I would have had the energy for that sort of thing, but I had been living and working in Kabul for months already. I was tired and frayed around the edges. Besides, I had led the majority of my loved ones to believe I was in India and it seemed hurtful for them to learn the truth from a Yahoo! news brief.
What to do? Well, Kabul Conference was coming up, which meant lockdown was at hand in a few days and movement around the city would become nearly impossible. The Colonel from NDS had suggested I disappear for a week, possibly take up residence in another hotel such as the Serena or the InterContinental. Both seemed unlikely options, as they were not within the budget of a civil servant such as yours truly and would soon be loaded with guests who were political kidnapping worthy. Besides, I already knew the risks at my current site: it was haunted by freaky ghosts and people were trying to kidnap me. Who knew what I would face at the new location?
My visa expiration was rapidly approaching anyway, and my departure from Afghanistan was imminent—less than a week away. Although I was going to miss my Central Asian home, it was time for a vacation.
10 July 2010
Propane Nightmares
I never thought I would be the kind of person who was intimidated by or jumped at loud noises, but propane accomplished its mission of fully scaring the hell out of me when it somehow ignited and exploded in the shower this morning. Luckily I was practicing the wasteful western habit of letting the water run for no good reason while I accomplished other tasks at the time. I made an executive decision to stop trying to take hot showers, as they get tepid at best anyway, it's July, and the rise in temperature isn't worth the accompanying skin graft.
06 July 2010
Transportation Dialogue
G: How are you?
J: Good. Just got back from a UNDP meeting. I am like not entirely excited about going places in a car marked with UN in big letters on the side of it since that one got attacked.
G: Yeah, don't go high profile. Keep it low.
J: There's no way, they put a gigantic UN on all the vehicles. A car was attacked last week, the driver was shot. I don't know the details. Maybe a gambling debt. But they always blame the T.
G: We're always using soft shell local vehicles with local drivers. That's a lot safer than a big hard shell with idiots.
J: Yeah, if we rode around in taxis with cracked windshields and no AC I guarantee there would be no attack. People would realize we had suffered enough.
G: That's right.
J: They would probably offer us some funding from their kidnapping money so we could be more comfortable.
J: Good. Just got back from a UNDP meeting. I am like not entirely excited about going places in a car marked with UN in big letters on the side of it since that one got attacked.
G: Yeah, don't go high profile. Keep it low.
J: There's no way, they put a gigantic UN on all the vehicles. A car was attacked last week, the driver was shot. I don't know the details. Maybe a gambling debt. But they always blame the T.
G: We're always using soft shell local vehicles with local drivers. That's a lot safer than a big hard shell with idiots.
J: Yeah, if we rode around in taxis with cracked windshields and no AC I guarantee there would be no attack. People would realize we had suffered enough.
G: That's right.
J: They would probably offer us some funding from their kidnapping money so we could be more comfortable.
03 July 2010
Horses and Carts
My car pool had determined that as a native English speaker, I was obligated to teach them two new words a day. The program seemed to be going well.
On Wednesday the driver pointed at the windshield.
“Windshield,” I said.
It came out the next day that this had been a misunderstanding. The driver had actually been pointing through the windshield at a horse and cart.
I explained the options for animal-pulled transportation and their various conditional uses: cart, carriage, buggy. The lesson was satisfactory and met with some approval. Later on in the day the lesson became more relevant when Kenta needed to change money on the way home, and a donkey-pulled cart collided with our vehicle as we were stopped on the side of the road.
“I never should have asked to stop for my personal reasons.” Kenta shook his head regretfully.
“At least the English lesson will be useful,” I said.
That afternoon I stopped by a French development organization that had offered me a job.
Me: As headquarters explained it to me, they can’t hire me until this other key position has been filled, or it’s like putting the cart before the horse.
Them 1: Right, except in this case, we don’t even have a horse.
Them 2: There is no horse.
On Wednesday the driver pointed at the windshield.
“Windshield,” I said.
It came out the next day that this had been a misunderstanding. The driver had actually been pointing through the windshield at a horse and cart.
I explained the options for animal-pulled transportation and their various conditional uses: cart, carriage, buggy. The lesson was satisfactory and met with some approval. Later on in the day the lesson became more relevant when Kenta needed to change money on the way home, and a donkey-pulled cart collided with our vehicle as we were stopped on the side of the road.
“I never should have asked to stop for my personal reasons.” Kenta shook his head regretfully.
“At least the English lesson will be useful,” I said.
That afternoon I stopped by a French development organization that had offered me a job.
Me: As headquarters explained it to me, they can’t hire me until this other key position has been filled, or it’s like putting the cart before the horse.
Them 1: Right, except in this case, we don’t even have a horse.
Them 2: There is no horse.
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