Merry Christmas

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Please see video greeting linked below.

Kraynak Christmas Greeting 2010


Peace on Earth

Until Every One Comes Home

Until Every One Comes Home

That’s the slogan for the United Service Organization, which is more familiarly known by its acronym, USO. Established by President Roosevelt in 1941, the USO provides morale and welfare support to U.S. troops and their families, around the world. The nonprofit organization is congressionally chartered and relies on the generosity of individuals, organizations and corporations to support its activities.

At my location, the USO is known for their phones and internet. We have a USO tent, referred to as a “USO in a Box” that includes over a dozen phones and wireless internet. The phones are free to use. You simply sit down, dial 1 plus the area code, and just like in the states the phone starts ringing on the other end. If no one is waiting to use a phone, then talk all you want. Otherwise, they ask you to limit your calls to 30 minutes. A conventional American cell phone would charge about $4 a minute. A local cell phone would charge about 25-cents a minute. Either way, it adds up, and having free phone use 24/7 is a great amenity.

The USO tent also provides free wireless internet, and has a few desks where one can park themselves and surf the web, or Skype. The bandwidth and USO tent can get crowded in the evenings, so as long as the locals aren’t burning tires to heat their homes, you can sit outside as well and still get wireless internet.

Technology has changed the way we live, even in some of the most remote places on earth. Providing internet access to troops is something the USO recognized it needed to keep up with in order to remain relevant as an organization. But there is one thing the USO has done for almost 70 years that is still as valid today as it was in 1941.  USO Tours.

Most of us remember seeing Bob Hope on TV entertaining a crowd of troops in some far off place. That tradition continues. Yesterday (Friday Dec. 17) the USO Tour paid us a visit, with a pretty big star - Robin Williams. It was his fifth tour with the USO.

Besides Robin Williams, comedian Lewis Black (one of my favorites), singer Kix Brooks (Brooks & Dunn), country music songwriter Bob Dipiero (who I discovered after the fact was born in Youngstown), comedian Kathleen Madigan, and cyclist Lance Armstrong also were in attendance. Their visit was brief (perhaps 2 hours) but considering there’s not much else on the compound besides the USO tent, it was a welcome reprieve from a normal Friday.

Williams, Madigan, Black, Brooks, Depiero and Armstrong with the 2-Star General

Robin Williams entertaining us.

After some introductions by our 2-Star General, Robin Williams took the stage for a bit. Some of his funny one-liners (that I edited for language):

“So they told us to turn our watches back 30 minutes when we land in Kabul. What? Are you kidding? You need to turn your clocks back 200 years when you’re here!”

“I’ve inhaled so must dust here the past day I crapped an adobe brick.”

“This place is far out there, when we landed, the voice on my GPS said, ‘whoa, where the f&*$ are we?”

Same time as previous pic from a different angle. Camera magic.

I’ve loaded a 30 second, un-edited clip, of his performance to my YouTube channel. Don’t view it if easily offended by profanity.


MichaelJKraynak You Tube Channel

After a 10 minute performance the stars moved into the dining hall where they lined us all up for an assembly line of photos.

Robin holding court with me and my friends.

It was quick, it was funny, and it was nice. The stars donate their time to do this. The USO pays for transportation, lodging, logistics, etc. They’ve done it for 70 years and will continue to do so Until Every One Comes Home.

It's Quite Bazaar

Besides work, we have few things on base to keep us occupied.  There are no coffee shops to go for a break. There is a semi trailer that acts as our post exchange (store) and has a limited offering.  One can get a little antsy and the walls and barbed wire meant to keep bad guys out, feel like they are closing you in. And that’s why Sunday’s are an exciting day.

The local bazaar comes onto the base each Sunday. It’s the same vendors from week to week and just like flea markets in the states, sometimes you can find a great deal, and sometime you can find junk. But it’s a distraction from the everyday rut.

My favorite merchant.

From original Afghan rugs, to old weapons from the day of British rule, to bootleg DVD’s and knock-off colognes and perfumes, if you have a few dollars; there is something to be sold.  Some of the stuff looks very old, as if it were dug up from a cave when they were searching for Bin Laden, but then we hear stories of a factory in Kabul making things that look really old. So you really never know how authentic the article is.

Blankets, scarves, and hats.

A couple of months ago, the bazaar switched from taking U.S. currency to only taking Afghanis - the national currency of Afghanistan. The exchange rate is pretty outrageous. One U.S. dollar equals about 45 Afghani. In other words, one thousand Afghani is about $22. It can get confusing as I personally experienced.

There was a particular item that a co-worker of mine said he purchased for $10. I wanted one of those items as well. Now typically, you ask how much the item is. The merchant will give you some outrageous price to which you respond:

“O, qemat ast!”, which means, wow, that’s expensive! Then you add,

“Arzanesh ko.” Make it cheaper. To which he asks how much you want to pay and you lowball him, I mean really low ball him. Then you go back and forth a few times before he says:

Vases, bowls, chess sets carved from granite and marble.

“For you my friend, I make special deal.” And pretty much gives you a reasonable price, a “special deal” that he has given to everyone else that day.

The process can be fun if you like to haggle. But after a while, I just want to know how much it is before determining if I even want it, so the haggling becomes a time consuming hassle.

So for this item I wanted to buy, I decided I would change my strategy and walk straight to the vendor and state my one and only low-ball price, anticipating he would come back higher and I would simply walk away.  Knowing others had purchased it for $10; I wanted to get it cheaper. I walked straight to the item, picked it up, and when the vendor approached I simply said: “800 Afghani”. He grabbed the item, said OK, and put it in a bag. I paid him and walked away very proud of my stellar negotiation skills. It wasn’t until later that day when I began to brag about my purchase that I realized why the vendor accepted my offer so quickly. In my mind, I wanted to pay $8 instead of $10. So I offered 800 Afghani. Well, 800 Afghani is over $16. I’m sure the vendor that evening was bragging to his colleagues how he was able to get an extra $6 from an American with no effort on his part.  

The best though, are the DVD’s. If a movie premiers in a U.S. theater on Friday night, I can buy the DVD on Sunday afternoon. The DVD does truly showcase the global economy in which we live. The last one I saw was a U.S. movie, with Spanish subtitles, burned on a cheap Chinese DVD, being sold to me in Afghanistan, two days after the movie premiers. But these are bootleg DVD’s, and sometimes not very good ones.

There was one movie in particular that caught my eye. It was called “Holy Rollers” and it was about ecstasy pills being smuggled into the U.S. by Hasidic Jews. I mean come on, that’s got to be a crazy movie. So I bought it for 100 Afghani (about $2). That week after work in my room, I popped the DVD into my computer. Up comes “Charlie St. Cloud.” What? These aren’t Hasidic Jews! This is freaking Zac Effron in a chick flick. Having nothing else to do, I started watching the movie. The bootleg quality was horrible.

When I say bootleg in this example, I mean someone went to the theater with a video camera, and filmed the screen. Just like the Seinfeld episode. Now I’ve seen a few of these where the videographer is actually quite good, but this was not one of them. First, the back of someone’s head was in the lower right corner of the screen the whole time. Second, the videographer sneezed at one point and the camera shot up the ceiling before being readjusted. And the person taking the video must have been sitting next to someone who loves candy because you could hear wrappers being opened several times.  I watched about 20 minutes, shut down the computer, and vowed to return the DVD the following Sunday.

So I brought the movie back the following week and told the vendors it was Charlie St. Cloud. He quickly took the DVD, apologized, and handed me a new “Holy Rollers” DVD. I put it in my computer and it’s the movie “Salt.” I gave up, watched “Salt,” enjoyed it, and gave up on ever seeing “Holy Rollers.”

Tashakor

[It means Thank You.]

On this Thanksgiving I’m sure many people have various things for which to be thankful. Things such as good health, a job, or those weird neighbors who finally moved away last month. Being over here, and witnessing the circumstances, there are many more things for which all Americans should be thankful.

Reading. The literacy rate in Afghanistan is 28%. If you were to meet four people, only one of them would be able to read. When you break it down, literacy among men is 43%, and literacy among women is 12.6%. We’re speaking of literacy rates for full-grown adults, not first graders. I’m thankful someone taught me to read.

Work. During the severe economic recession in the U.S., unemployment reached 10% and fluttered even higher. Finding a job is sometimes tough. Over here, the unemployment rate is 35%. It’s not that people don’t want to work, it’s that there is nothing to do. Outside of agriculture, which is typically not exported, there is very little in terms of manufacturing. Someone told me if you offered to pay an Afghan $5 to walk five miles to pick up a 20-pound rock and carry it back, he would do it. He needs the money and he has the time. That’s why opium is the #1 agricultural product. It’s worth money to others. I’m thankful for the Henry Ford’s and Ray Kroc’s who developed opportunities for thousands upon thousands to work legitimately.

The age of 50. If you’re an American, you will most likely celebrate this milestone by having a party or receiving black balloons and over the hill messages from your family and friends. If you’re an Afghan, you most likely died 5 years before this milestone. Life expectancy is just under 45 years old. That would put me in the sunset years of my life. I’m thankful for doctors, nurses, medical schools, healthcare insurance and places like Walgreens.

The government. Boy do we like to pick on the government. No matter who is in office, we think we could do better ourselves. At all levels, we view the government as a waste of taxes, a bunch of bureaucrats who have no idea how things are really done. But as soon as our house catches on fire, or a tornado strikes, or someone attacks or threatens us, we expect the government to step in and handle all of it. The government of Afghanistan is fairly non-existent. If you don’t live in Kabul, you depend on yourself and your neighbors for everything. And I mean everything. You have no government that regulates the good and bad in your village. You have no infrastructure. There is no running water, sewer lines, or paved roads. No one is there to give you money so you can buy milk for your kids or ensure that the food you buy at the store won’t make you sick. No one is there to make sure your travels to other cities are safe. No one else even knows that you exist. You are on your own. I’m thankful for government.

The U.S. military. Thousands and thousands are positioned all over the world, not only to protect America, but to protect and help out others. Who knows when some crazy from North Korea decides he wants attention? They do a great job and personally, they watch out for me. I’m not one of them, yet it’s their weapons that are protecting me. They are the first, second and third line of defense to the defenseless. I’m thankful for the U.S. Armed Forces.

The below linked video is a tribute to the four branches of military service as only Gene Simmons could do it. Thanks to my Dad for sending it.

Rocking the House

Be thankful you live where you live and you have what you have, and that others have your back. Because regardless of where or what that is, its a lot better than most of the world.

Spam Cake

Today is November 11^th. An ordinary day for most people.

In 1918, on the 11^th hour of this 11^th day of the 11^th month, the Germans officially surrendered, ending major combat operations in World War I. Subsequent acts of Congress made November 11^th, Armistice Day, a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace. In 1953, a shoe store owner in Kansas felt the day should honor all Veterans. Through his connections with the local Chamber of Commerce and the Board of Education, he convinced other business owners and schools to close their doors in his small town to honor Veterans.  The idea caught on.

A special event occurred on base today in honor of military members past and present, especially those serving around the world and in danger.

A special event was held on November 10^th as well. The 235^th birthday of the United States Marine Corps.

The Marines typically put up with a lot of crap. For one, their budgets are usually lower than the other services, so they are forced to do more with less. They are teased for being a component of the U.S. Navy, and they’re not too happy about it. They have a reputation of being gritty, and willing to work and live in the sparsest of environments.  When one of them mentioned during the staff huddle that the kitchen wouldn’t bake them a cake for the event, the Army Colonels told them to just put icing on the Spam they eat so much.  There are not many Marines at my base (about 5% of base population).

But hand it to the Marines, because they don’t do anything half-assed.

The Air Force and Navy birthday celebrations were pretty predictable. All base personnel stood around the flag pole. A few speeches were made, the national anthem sung by whomever was the best singer from that service, and a recording of their fight song was played. Their events lasted 20 to 30 minutes each.

The Army Band
(photo courtesy D. DeLeon)

The Marines – they had a band. An Army band. How the Marines were able to get an Army band to play for them at their event is beyond me.  The band played background music while events were getting set up, they played the national anthem, and they played the Marines hymm. The band was choreographed to the motions of the Marines during the event. Live music on base is almost as rare as hot water for the showers.

Although in the morning there were two Marines mopping the platform under the flags (yes, they were mopping stone outdoors), we did not stand around the flag pole. That would be too basic. We were informed in advance exactly where we were to be positioned, along the main walkway in the courtyard.  And the Marines brought in a color guard to present the flags.  

USMC Color Guard
(photo courtesy: D. DeLeon)

March through formation
(photo courtesy: D. DeLeon)

The event was timed out precisely. Each Marine executed the exact same movement at the exact same time.  A video montage was presented. And a 2-Star General made an appearance to speak about what it means to be a Marine. The tradition, integrity and sacrifice that accompanies the uniform.  A cake that some Marines were able to obtain from another base was marched in.

After the cake was cut, it is Marine tradition to have the oldest Marine and youngest Marine take the first bites. The oldest, a Colonel, was born in 1956. The youngest was born in 1990. He would have been 10 or 11 years old when September 11^th occurred, and probably in the 5^th grade.

Youngest and oldest Marine
(photo courtesy: D. DeLeon)

The Marines make up 10% of the fighting force in Iraq and Afghanistan. Yet they make up 25% of the casualties. They are the front lines. They clear the paths that others take. Ned Dolan is attributed the quote:

"Freedom is not free, but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share."

Semper Fi.

The Few, The Proud
(photo courtesy: D. DeLeon)

Run Forrest, Run!

There’s a lot of food here. They have four formal feedings a day. For the sake of the buttons on my pants, I only partake in three. The fourth is a midnight chow and I’m usually in bed by then, except for the occasional Saturday when I have to stay up late to watch college football. So I’ve had a couple midnight meals but they are the exception.

I treat every meal as if it is the last time I will see all the food available. You never know when somebody is going to take out one of the food delivery trucks or if Pakistan will close the border again. So In my mind, if I don’t get a taste of everything good they have to offer, I may not get the chance again. Who knows if jambalaya will ever make a return to the menu? And what if the ocean runs out of crab legs? I’d kick myself for not getting one last taste. And my favorite meal of the day, breakfast, features a made-to-order omelet station. It’s my responsibility to keep the host nation griddle master employed so he doesn’t turn into an insurgent.

If that wasn’t enough, they have a snack shelf. It’s full of potato chips from Dubai, Pop-Tarts from Battle Creek, and Beef Jerky from wherever Jack Links is manufactured. So you grab these and stuff them strategically in your office and in your room. Then my Mom and sister, Karen, send me a box of cookies and snack mix, and I ask them for more, and receive more. Then my coworkers get Tasty Cakes and they share. Then some random middle school sends care packages full of Girl Scout cookies, homemade cookies, candy and crackers.  With a surge in troops came a surge in calories.

So after about a month, I was 8 pounds heavier. At first I thought the gravity was stronger on this side of the planet, and it was throwing off the scale. It turns out that wasn’t the case because of something stupid called physics.  I then blamed the mandatory malaria pills for making me bloated. It turns out crazy dreams are the side effects of malaria pills and not bloating, and we’ll save that topic for a future post.

I’ve acknowledged there is an imbalance between calories in and calories out. So to compensate, I’ve started hitting the gym more, and running, lots of running. The perimeter road, in fact the only road, on base is about a kilometer once around. I try to do at least 3 or 4 laps each run. It turns out I’m not the only one who likes to run. Besides seeing many others out there for a jog, we’ve had a couple 5K races that I’ve participated in.

The first one celebrated the U.S. Air Force’s 63^rd birthday. Some Navy guy won it.

The second was for Hispanic Heritage month. Some white guy won it. In fact, the same guy who won the Air Force 5K. Apparently Navy submarines are great training grounds for distance runners.

The base has decided to suspend all future 5K’s until that Navy guy goes back home.

Below are some pics of Air Force Birthday event, my official 5K t-shirt, and the Hispanic Heritage month 5K run.

The official T-Shirt of the 63rd U.S. Air Force Birthday 5K.

Ceremony honoring the USAF 63rd Birthday later that day.

The start of the Hispanic Heritage Month 5K. I'm the crazy civilian wearing blue.

The final straightaway to the finish line.

Same old, same old.

We’re creatures of habit. We like to follow routines. Wake up at the same time; eat dinner at the same time. Do your morning routine in the same fashion while getting ready. Etc.

When I came over here I viewed it as an opportunity to change things up. Try living in new ways, and get away from having things always in a certain sequence. I was determined to bring some variety into my life and not get caught up in everyday routines.

Well, it’s hard. And I quickly fell into the routines of working out at the same times doing the same exercises, having egg white omelettes and oatmeal for breakfast each morning, and going through the same order of things when I get into the office.

On Fridays, it is considered a “low battle day.” That means we can start work a little later, perhaps 9:30 or 10 a.m. instead of the usually 7 a.m. So this past Friday I decided I would change things up, go in a little later than usual, and work out in the morning. I ran the perimeter road counterclockwise instead of clockwise. I was breaking my normal routine and it was going to be a great day because of it.

Our showers are located in a large tent that has about twelve individual shower stalls. Since I was on a mission of change, I decided I would pass up the third stall on the left, my usual, and go to the fifth stall. It was going to be a great day.

I went to move the showerhead so the initial spray was directed away from my head, and the showerhead broke off. Great. So I moved to the fourth stall on the left.

I adjusted the showerhead in this one and turned on the water. It came out in a tiny, hard stream. It was like a super-soaker squirt gun stream, but really hard. I was not about to take a shower with a stinging squirt gun as my water source. So once again I moved…to the third stall on the left.

I was back in my usual place. It felt good to be there. I turned on the water. It was cold. No hot water today.

Son of a #$%&*! They better have egg whites at breakfast.

ESPN's Monday Night Buzkashi

Salaam Alaykom.

I recently took some basic Dari language and cultural awareness training. It’s part of the counter-insurgency strategy to have a better understanding of the local culture and how to deal with it effectively.

 

Salaam Alaykom means “hello, peace be upon you.”

A proper response is Wa Alaykom Asalaam, which means “and peace be upon you.”

I practice these sayings and others with the cleaning crew, who I believe is a mother with her two teenage kids and one of their buddies.  When I say hello in Dari to them, they get a kick out of asking me questions in Dari to see if I know what they are saying. The worst part is they know English quite well, but enjoy watching me stumble through their language.  I’m still learning swear words in Dari so please don’t ask me to share those words until I practice them more.

In most countries outside of the United States, football is the national sport. Not football in the sense of the NFL , but soccer. But Afghanistan is one of the few countries where soccer is not the national sport. It’s popular, but there is something better.

It’s called Buzkashi.

Translated, it literally means “goat grabbing.”

It’s a field game of 10 to 12 players per side. The teams must transport the headless carcass of a calf or goat, weighing up to 130 lbs., the length of a football field and back, and then over a goal Line, without dropping it or allowing someone from the other team to wrestle it from them. No knives or the direct physical attack of the person carrying the carcass is allowed.

[photo obtained from training presentation]

The origins of this game are believed to go back to the era of the Mongol conquest, when the Mongol riders would hunt, kill and pick up goats without dismounting from their horses. The story goes that Afghan horseman learned to fight back and retook their animals from the Mongols who wanted to ride away with the livestock. Today it is the official national sport of Afghanistan.

Supposedly one of their star buzkashi players retired two years ago, then cried on TV and said he wanted to come back. He went to a new team, then again said he was done. Then cried again and came back. What a crazy country!

The training also provided background on the various ethnicities, traditions, and history of this country that I’ll share in future posts. One startling fact is that the country was more advanced and progressive in the 1950’s than it is today. Due to decades of wars (Soviet occupation, civil war) and the working of the Taliban and their ultra-conservative ways, Kabul went from a city with theaters and other modern luxuries, to a virtually destroyed metropolis with two traffic lights and unreliable electricity.

The below images are of a Girls Scout meeting and women at a record store, both in the 1950’s. It looks no different than pictures of America in the 1950’s. 

[photos obtained from training presentation]

Hopefully the younger people here like those cleaning our offices will realize what they are missing and bring this place into the 20^th century.

Roz e Khush.

Have a nice day.

Looking Past the Numbers

This past week's helicopter crash that took 9 American lives has made this the deadliest year in Afghanistan. Sometimes it's hard to understand what the number mean. I found a feature on the CNN website that allows one to understand each one of those numbers a little better.

CNN Interactive Feature

Khostan...Tawanestan

This past weekend marked a couple of anniversaries.

One was marked by all Americans. September 11^th.

While it was business as usual here (as it is every day, including this past Labor Day), there were special moments.

As part of a routine to obtain a souvenir flag that flew over Afghanistan, I snapped the picture below of an Army Sergeant, who with the help of a Marine Sergeant, just finished lowering and folding a flag that was presented to someone. That someone was me.

The Sergeant, Mayline is her name, works in the Joint Manning and Personnel section, and has two kids at home. The youngest is just over a year old. She talked about her baby girl, having just seen her on Skype the night before.  But Mayline didn’t complain that she was perhaps missing her daughter’s first words, or first steps. She knew she had an important job to do, one that was created nine years ago this day.

The other anniversary is mine. My technical start date with the government is September 10, 2001, although I wasn’t actually in the office until several days later. I took my oath on  September 12, 2001, when I rode an eerily quiet El train into a much deserted downtown Chicago, where I encountered a federal building that was “business as usual.” I stood on the 36^th floor with my back against a window that framed the Sears Tower, and swore to “defend the constitution” as all federal employees do. I never thought I would have the opportunity to help do just that nine years later in the epicenter of that effort.

A more formal 9/11 event was held for all base personnel in late afternoon, around the same time the events in New York started to unfold nine years ago.  And while the event had some of the traditional moments of silence, playing of taps, and patriotic singing by the base choir, it also had something surprisingly different. It had an opportunity built into it for the American military and civilian personnel to thank the local Afghans and third country nationals, who work on the base, preparing our meals, cleaning our restrooms, emptying our trash, and washing our clothes. They work every day, regardless of whether or not it is their national holiday, and quite frankly, they do a good job. They were told that Saturday was their Labor Day.

At the end, the Command Sergeant Major of the compound yelled out for everyone to repeat, the U.S. Forces motto in Afghanistan:

Khostan…Tawanestan!

Khostan…Tawanestan!

Khostan…Tawanestan!

Which translated means, 

We Can…We Will

There is Still Some Room Up Front

Since arriving, I’ve been impressed with the many things the U.S. military does to make living here as comfortable as possible. From the food, the movies, the Armed Forces Network programming, and Internet accessibility, keeping continuity of a normal lifestyle is important. It removes some of the strangeness and helps keep many routines going that we all have back in the states.

This past Sunday morning, I went to church. And like everything else, they make going to church here as similar to the states as possible. The church itself is comprised of some of the finest materials. The angled ceiling and walls are made of the finest vinyl around. The grand lighting of fluorescent tubes, linked together with extension cords, provides a glow over the congregation.  The pews are constructed of welded tube frames, highly polished, that I’m sure came from Rome.

Even the attendees add to the day by wearing their finest camouflage, and polishing their weapons extra well that morning. The Marine who lifts the most weights in the gym, leads everyone in song. The Air Force Colonel who is straight business seven days a week, takes an hour break and reads. The Army Captian, who typically drives the combat vehicles, takes off the gloves to pass out communion. And the priest who has responsibility for most bases in the area, stands outside the tent in a gravel field wearing a traditional robe and greets everyone coming in, and going out.

The Chaplains office here caters to all religions:  Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Latter Day Saints, Muslim, and they frequently ask people to let them know what is missing, so they can satisfy those individuals too. In a country where religious freedom doesn’t exist, a small patch of gravel in the center of town is open to all.

And since this was a Catholic Mass I went to, there were plenty of open seats in the front. Just like home. 

This is a picture of the base chapel.

Some pics of my new home

The new sleeping quarters. Entire bunk to myself.

Cool Down

I exercised today for the first time in about 3 weeks. During lunch, I ran the perimeter roadway within the base walls. Each lap around the base is about 1 kilometer. It was sunny and close to 90 degrees. After three laps, I was spent. I was soaked with sweat, huffing, and my legs were on fire. I started to cool myself down under the awning of a building with a bottled water. I wasn't sure how I was going to climb the steps back to my room.

One of the base guards, who is a local Afghan, walked by. In very broken English, he asked:

"You're family, is good? Family good?"

"Yes," I replied, "my family is good. How is yours?"

He said, "Good. Thank you. Garmi! Garmi!" and starts fanning himself.

I said, "yes, hot. Very hot today. Garmi."

He comes up to me, and points at the side of my head, my temple, and says, "Araq! Araq!"

I look at him puzzled, thinking he is saying Iraq (as in the country). He then draws a line down his own face with his finger and says, "araq."

"Sweat," I say. "Araq. Sweat." He nods approvingly.

He waves, and starts to walk away. About ten steps later, he stops, and comes right back to me, face to face. This man is probably in his mid-forties to mid-fifties, but he looks like he lived a very hard life. His face is weathered like leather, and I don't think he had ever been to a dentist. His eyes look tired and kind of sad at the same time. He comes within a half-foot of my face, lightly pokes me in the chest and says:

"Afghanistan good. America good. You good. I good," and then turns and walks away.

I ran one more lap.

This Isn't France

It's been a while since I posted, but there is good reason. Getting a solid internet connection long enough to post something of length is tricky. But I think I got it.

All is well on the Silk Road.

So what is Afghanistan and Kabul like?

Kind of what you probably imagined. Flying from Bagram to Kabul, I was able to take a good look out the window. This area of Afghanistan (northeaster quadrant) is mountainous. Think Rocky Mountains minus any type of tree or vegetation. There is vast expanses of nothing, and then there will be a tiny little village or commune, or often times, the outline of a village that probably was destroyed decades ago. You can still see the outlines of the walls, the foundation, but the structures themselves are long gone. Then all of a sudden you'll see a couple of SUVs and a few people hanging out in the middle of nowhere, way off the nearby road. Just like in the movies.

Flying into Kabul, you can see the density that exists. Kabul has about 3.5 million residents. That's larger than Chicago. All you can see is wall after wall. Each residential area, also known as a Qalah, is essentially an extended family compound, surrounded by walls. So when you build one family compound next to another family compound, it starts to look like a maze of walls from the sky. Imaging an American suburb, but instead of curbs and fences, you had walls completely enclosing your property. And every one of your neighbors did the same. Some of the structures themselves within the walls are colorful (bright pink, turquoise, etc.) but there is no grass.

Transport from the airport to the base was even wilder. I got a first hand look at how residents live and work. It's thing upon thing, and person upon person. Want to push a wheelbarrow full of stuff down the middle of a major 6 lane road? No problem! Want to cross six lanes of traffic in a circle intersection in your sandals? Go for it! Want to sell hubcaps and silver teapots on the side of the road? The chamber of commerce welcomes you. And since the elections are coming up, there are posters and larger than life pictures everywhere.

What has surprised me the most about Kabul is the weather. Everyday has been the same. Sunny and about 85 degrees. A haze will develop in the afternoon, especially if the wind is kicking up sand, but otherwise it's not too hot. It's pretty much ideal summer weather. Early in the morning (4am early!) you can hear the neighborhood public address systems going off with the morning prayer music. It is eerie and kind of cool at the same time. You can tell the speaker system is old, yet you can hear the music fairly well. You can even hear the speakers from further neighborhoods going off, once your closest speaker has stopped. The songs go off again at 5am, but then I don't hear them the rest of the day. During the day you can see the tops of kites flying around the city.

So Kabul is a little like Chicago in terms of population, a little like Denver in terms of terrain, and a little like San Diego in terms of weather. But it's not France. And the reason I say that is because now that I have internet in my room, every site I go to defaults to French as the language. Do you know how hard it is to figure out in Yahoo and Google how to change your language settings when you can't read the buttons?

Pics from In-Processing Week - March to training

Some Pics from In-Processing Week

Get Set, and GO

It's been a very full week at the in-processing training at Ft. Benning. Friday (8/20) I begin the actual trip over to Afghanistan. After 7 full days of training, I have a greater appreciation for what the military and the average soldier needs to know, and keep up to date on. The military individuals running the training did a great job and ran a very tight ship. Organizing and processing hundreds of people is not easy, yet they did it in an organized fashion, and made sure everyone had water, food, and access to them to answer any questions. I'm also sure they were extra nice because they weren't the ones deploying!

At this point I'm ready to go. I'm excited about the trip over and the next six months. This endeavor is very much out of my typical comfort zone, and it will be good for me to experience a way of life different than that which I have become accustomed. Spending the week with soldiers and Defense civilians who are going over for their 3rd or 4th tour makes me realize how committed members of the military and Department of Defense really are. Many of them are leaving children and grandchildren behind. Many of them are going for a 12 month tour. Many of them have spent more time over there in the past 3 years than they have at home. My little six months is nothing compared to that.

The duffels are packed. The armor is fitted. Movies have been downloaded to the computer and a couple of books are in the backpack. I'm ready. I'm set. Let's go.

Getting Ready

Welcome to my blog for the duration of my mission to Kabul, Afghanistan. I'm currently in the process of getting everything ready, and there is a lot to do to say the least.

When deploying with the government, there are a lot of details that need worked out. Many vaccinations are needed, and specifics need to be followed with regards to what is/isn't allowed in Afghanistan. As I prepare to leave my home this coming Friday (8/13) my biggest concern is making sure I take care of all the details with regards to my condo, my bills, my finances, etc., so I don't have to worry about it while living on the other side of the world. Everyone, from family to friends, to even the usually less than cooperative utility companies, have been extremely helpful. Preparing to ship out has actually gone smoother than I expected.

Packing is another issue.

I need to walk the fine line of taking just enough clothing/hygiene products to get me through a week long orientation at Fort Benning, yet packing extra light since I will be receiving military issued clothing and armor....which I am to carry to and from all aircraft. So it benefits me to travel as lightly as possible, while making sure I have the necessary items to keep me comfortable. Being used to packing suits and business attire in large suitcases, rolling up clothes into a green duffle is going to take some practice.

I hope to post updates to this blog on a regular basis, however, I'm not sure yet what "regular" means. I plan to post my next post in about a week and share some of my experiences during the orientation week at Fort Benning.