Just to make you all feel better at home, we were forecast heavy snow yesterday. The world as we knew it was about to cease and Kabul would become a winter wonderland!!
Well, we Brits love to chat about the weather, wherever we are and usually at the expense of the hapless weather forecaster, and Kabul is no different.
It rained all day yesterday, not a hint of snow in the air.
I would not mention this but we are getting the jitters about the snow. We escape on Saturday, weather permitting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Excitement at the Road Block
There have been a couple of suicide bombers in Kabul this week, so the Police are tightening up with numerous road blocks in random places. In the evening, these road blocks consist of a number of policemen waving people down with a torch and then checking papers and moving on. They do not stop every car but a small selection, particularly cars with no number plates & those which are not full. There is a logic to this, a suicide bomber does not drive around in a car full of people, but alone. That is a point, what is the collective noun for a group of suicide bombers? Answers on a postcard, please.
Anyway, to reduce a long, rambling story to a short, rambling story, this evening we were stopped at a roadblock in our handsome, large armoured Toyota Land Cruiser. Obviously, once they had shone the torch in and seen the occupants and noticed we were an armoured vehicle, they waved us on. Again, logically, if you were a suicide bomber you would not use an armoured vehicle. Firstly, it would be a very expensive car to blow up and secondly, by definition, if it stops explosions getting in, presumably it would certainly diminish the effect of an explosion trying to get out. But this is not the point to my story.
As we were about to drive off the Police flagged down a Black Toyota Corolla, the car slowed, then accelerated through the road block and disappeared off down the road. The obvious response to this was for one of the policeman to get out his gun and start firing it into the air. This all simply leads to the fact that I have never seen a gun fired before in the open air like that and was just a tad surprised. My, what a sheltered life I have lead.
It is very cold tonight and the sky is thick with cloud. Heavy snow is forecast for tomorrow.
Anyway, to reduce a long, rambling story to a short, rambling story, this evening we were stopped at a roadblock in our handsome, large armoured Toyota Land Cruiser. Obviously, once they had shone the torch in and seen the occupants and noticed we were an armoured vehicle, they waved us on. Again, logically, if you were a suicide bomber you would not use an armoured vehicle. Firstly, it would be a very expensive car to blow up and secondly, by definition, if it stops explosions getting in, presumably it would certainly diminish the effect of an explosion trying to get out. But this is not the point to my story.
As we were about to drive off the Police flagged down a Black Toyota Corolla, the car slowed, then accelerated through the road block and disappeared off down the road. The obvious response to this was for one of the policeman to get out his gun and start firing it into the air. This all simply leads to the fact that I have never seen a gun fired before in the open air like that and was just a tad surprised. My, what a sheltered life I have lead.
It is very cold tonight and the sky is thick with cloud. Heavy snow is forecast for tomorrow.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Another Friday funday
Hello again one and all and welcome to my world.
Before I begin with todays tale of not so derring-do, I shall answer a couple of questions posed to me by my loyal, and frankly, bowel obsessed readership. Yes Clair, that is you. No, I have not bought any traditional Afghan dress, except for my Pakoul hat which I have to say is pretty snazzy and, I think, may begin a fashion craze that could sweep Lane End (seeing as they cost less than a £1). However, I am seriously considering buying the full burkha for you (refer to Darth Vader in previous picture) for all departures from home. I am sure Mr. R would approve!
As for Amazon etc delivering here, this is an interesting point. It is actually cheaper to post to me in Kabul, as I have a BFPO address, than it is to post to me in the UK, so yes, they do deliver. In fact, even here in Kabul, I have been bidding on items on eBay and recently won a CD that I hope is waiting for me right now at the British Army camp just down the Jalalabad Road. Talking of Army camps, oh, such a sweet slide into a new subject. I went to ISAF HQ on another shopping trip today, so some lucky people out there have been purchased an extremely cheap Christmas present today. No names, no packdrill, but 1 or 2 people reading this today are going to have to smile sweetly in a couple of weeks time and pretend they have just received a fabuloso present, which is really cheap Afghan bazaar tat. My favourite are the Oakley copy glasses which have the giveaway on the box which calls Okley glasses!!!!
I did also buy a really lovely, small silk rug today that is beautiful and feels fantastic if you walk on it barefoot.
After our shopping expedition, we came back. Outside the house those pesky kids were playing cricket again. For some inexplicable reason I thought, if you can't beat them, join them and sort of made strange noises and motions to them and they allowed us to join in, so me and Mathew spent half an hour this afternoon playing cricket in the street outside the house. The ball was a tennis ball and the wicket, I jest not, was a bicycle stood sideways, so the bowler had a target about 5 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Yes, a lot of people were out quite quickly.
After that I spent an hour sitting in the sun reading. When the sun is up it is quite warm, but as soon as the sun goes down the temperature drops sharply. We have sun forecast today and tomorow and then heavy snow for the rest of the week. Still as long as the plane takes off on Saturday, I am out of here!!!!
Get those mince pies ready at the squash club, PQ is heading home for a few weeks!!
And finally, as Sir Trevor would say. No the loo paper is not soft, in fact I think it is made from recycled razor blades, it you get my drift.
Before I begin with todays tale of not so derring-do, I shall answer a couple of questions posed to me by my loyal, and frankly, bowel obsessed readership. Yes Clair, that is you. No, I have not bought any traditional Afghan dress, except for my Pakoul hat which I have to say is pretty snazzy and, I think, may begin a fashion craze that could sweep Lane End (seeing as they cost less than a £1). However, I am seriously considering buying the full burkha for you (refer to Darth Vader in previous picture) for all departures from home. I am sure Mr. R would approve!
As for Amazon etc delivering here, this is an interesting point. It is actually cheaper to post to me in Kabul, as I have a BFPO address, than it is to post to me in the UK, so yes, they do deliver. In fact, even here in Kabul, I have been bidding on items on eBay and recently won a CD that I hope is waiting for me right now at the British Army camp just down the Jalalabad Road. Talking of Army camps, oh, such a sweet slide into a new subject. I went to ISAF HQ on another shopping trip today, so some lucky people out there have been purchased an extremely cheap Christmas present today. No names, no packdrill, but 1 or 2 people reading this today are going to have to smile sweetly in a couple of weeks time and pretend they have just received a fabuloso present, which is really cheap Afghan bazaar tat. My favourite are the Oakley copy glasses which have the giveaway on the box which calls Okley glasses!!!!
I did also buy a really lovely, small silk rug today that is beautiful and feels fantastic if you walk on it barefoot.
After our shopping expedition, we came back. Outside the house those pesky kids were playing cricket again. For some inexplicable reason I thought, if you can't beat them, join them and sort of made strange noises and motions to them and they allowed us to join in, so me and Mathew spent half an hour this afternoon playing cricket in the street outside the house. The ball was a tennis ball and the wicket, I jest not, was a bicycle stood sideways, so the bowler had a target about 5 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Yes, a lot of people were out quite quickly.
After that I spent an hour sitting in the sun reading. When the sun is up it is quite warm, but as soon as the sun goes down the temperature drops sharply. We have sun forecast today and tomorow and then heavy snow for the rest of the week. Still as long as the plane takes off on Saturday, I am out of here!!!!
Get those mince pies ready at the squash club, PQ is heading home for a few weeks!!
And finally, as Sir Trevor would say. No the loo paper is not soft, in fact I think it is made from recycled razor blades, it you get my drift.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Chill Will Bill Nill
As you can see, the view from my window is now rather spectacular with the snow capped mountains encircling the plain that Kabul sits on. Soon the snow will be down on the plain and our demining operations will halt for the duration while the ground is covered in snow and frozen.
We shall be coming back to UK soon for three weeks of hard earned rest and shall begin again in mid-January preparing for the deminers to go back out into the field in mid-February, we hope.
At the moment it is pretty chaotic as we try to struggle with $10m of budget that ends on December 31st and all the budget lines have to be spent accurately over the year to within 10% of the projections. Every day people are coming in for money for new tents, plastic sheet to cover the old tents, more diesel, more gas etc and the carefully planned projections are shattered by 8am every day and we start all over again!!! I am usually hopping mad till I get it back under control about 3pm, but that is Kabul life!!! What we need is an accountant - now where would I find one of those?
However, you have seen pictures of our house. It is not the best maintained property and the windows are akin to the windows you would find in a garden shed on a long ago abandoned allotment. They are a single pane barely hanging in the thin frame and the openers do not close properly. So when the temperature reaches -11C at night, they are not the best protection from the cold.
With the power off there is no electric and without CO alarms we cannot use the gas heaters, so there you have it. A very chilleee trip to the bathroom at 3am when you wake up shivering in bed!!!!
Still we are a lot better off than most residents of Kabul and it seems a bit churlish to moan, but I am looking forward to a hot bath, a warm room and most of all a hot, soft bed with fluffy pillows and a thick quilt. Oh, and a pint of Shepherd Neame. (not in bed)
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Another Friday, another Funday
As you are all aware by now, Friday is our day off and it is generally a day of non-stop fun and frivolity as we rampage the streets of Kabul, partying and; just going crazeee (as Noddy Holder would have said).
Yesterday was no different. I awoke at 8am, obviously no electric and no running water and laid in bed to read my book for a while. (I am sure you can feel the intensity of the day growing, even from thousands of miles away). I had breakfast (it is friday/funday so I go crazeee and cook an omelette). By 9.30 the others are awake and I can turn on the generator and get some power. Things are now happening at a pace, already I am struggling to control the excitement and anticipation.
With electricity the possibilities are endless, now the radio works, the TV works and even the internet connection is up and running.
But today is going to be a shopping day. Me and Mathew are going to ISAF HQ, where they have a bazaar on Fridays. So we call Zabi, he comes and gets us and off we go.
ISAF HQ is the HQ for the International Security Assistance Force, ie the coalition. There are soldiers here from about 20 different countries. It really is quite weird being in the midst of this Tower of Babel, here in Kabul.
"The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hooray" and is giving us a fine and delightful autumn day. In the car park are set up about a hundred local trader stalls selling everything from carpets to sunglasses (the Oakley copies have Okley on the box, a bit of a giveaway, methinks). There are stalls with scarves, DVDs, coats, in fact almost everything; and a large number of stalls with the strangest military memorabilia including swords, daggers, huge old padlocks!! and lots of 19th century British equipment like compasses etc. Presumably trophies from the last British retreat from Afghanistan, as well as lots of old Soviet Army memorabilia. I buy a couple of presents and Mathew gets measured up for a made-to-measure full length black leather coat a la Matrix.
Now I have to say, he is tall and thin. I am short and fat, otherwise I too would be adorned as a Neo lookalike this winter (although I expect I would be more Herr Flick than Neo, sorry Keanu).
We are breathless from the thrills and spills of it all and head back to the house after an hour or so to recharge our batteries. I came within a gnats whisker of buying a silk carpet. They are beautiful and change colour depending on the angle of the light etc. I haggle down from €320 ($450) to just $220 (106 pounds), a pretty good discount, but this particular carpet does not light my fire. One I saw at another stall was $400 which I would not have hesitated for at $220 for a silk carpet is a bargain. So I come away carpetless.
I spend the afternoon, trying out my "Teach yourself Dari" book. I thought I would start with a bit of writing. It is really strange at first to be writing right to left and your hand instantly wants to move left to right. You consciously have to make yourself write the letters "backwards" which is so difficult at first. Control is everything!!!! It is a bit like trying to write left handed as it just seems wrong!! I eventually get to write the alphabet and have written my first 2 words. Ab which is "water" and asan which is "easy". If only you could see my attempts, they are quite funny, and if you think Persian looks like squiggles, wait till you see my attempts, I am rubbish, but things can only get better!!!
In the evening I have a headache (is all this excitement tiring you out reading this?) so I go to bed early, about 8pm. At 1am I am woken by the man who lives in the house opposite. Every night he comes home at 1am and then sits outside with his hand on the car horn blaring out to get the someone to come out and open the garage door. Now I am used to this and have learnt to handle it, BUT at 5.30am this morning a delivery lorry arrived (they have building works going on) and proceeded to hammer the horn mercilessly to signal his arrival - at 5.30am!!! Now this was the last straw, I opened my window and, using a variety of Anglo-Saxon terms, requested that he may desist from this practice as soon as possible, please. This may not have done Anglo-Afghan relations much good, but I sure felt better. Incredibly the driver got out of the cab, walked over to the house and knocked on the door.
You see, you only have to ask!!
Yesterday was no different. I awoke at 8am, obviously no electric and no running water and laid in bed to read my book for a while. (I am sure you can feel the intensity of the day growing, even from thousands of miles away). I had breakfast (it is friday/funday so I go crazeee and cook an omelette). By 9.30 the others are awake and I can turn on the generator and get some power. Things are now happening at a pace, already I am struggling to control the excitement and anticipation.
With electricity the possibilities are endless, now the radio works, the TV works and even the internet connection is up and running.
But today is going to be a shopping day. Me and Mathew are going to ISAF HQ, where they have a bazaar on Fridays. So we call Zabi, he comes and gets us and off we go.
ISAF HQ is the HQ for the International Security Assistance Force, ie the coalition. There are soldiers here from about 20 different countries. It really is quite weird being in the midst of this Tower of Babel, here in Kabul.
"The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hooray" and is giving us a fine and delightful autumn day. In the car park are set up about a hundred local trader stalls selling everything from carpets to sunglasses (the Oakley copies have Okley on the box, a bit of a giveaway, methinks). There are stalls with scarves, DVDs, coats, in fact almost everything; and a large number of stalls with the strangest military memorabilia including swords, daggers, huge old padlocks!! and lots of 19th century British equipment like compasses etc. Presumably trophies from the last British retreat from Afghanistan, as well as lots of old Soviet Army memorabilia. I buy a couple of presents and Mathew gets measured up for a made-to-measure full length black leather coat a la Matrix.
Now I have to say, he is tall and thin. I am short and fat, otherwise I too would be adorned as a Neo lookalike this winter (although I expect I would be more Herr Flick than Neo, sorry Keanu).
We are breathless from the thrills and spills of it all and head back to the house after an hour or so to recharge our batteries. I came within a gnats whisker of buying a silk carpet. They are beautiful and change colour depending on the angle of the light etc. I haggle down from €320 ($450) to just $220 (106 pounds), a pretty good discount, but this particular carpet does not light my fire. One I saw at another stall was $400 which I would not have hesitated for at $220 for a silk carpet is a bargain. So I come away carpetless.
I spend the afternoon, trying out my "Teach yourself Dari" book. I thought I would start with a bit of writing. It is really strange at first to be writing right to left and your hand instantly wants to move left to right. You consciously have to make yourself write the letters "backwards" which is so difficult at first. Control is everything!!!! It is a bit like trying to write left handed as it just seems wrong!! I eventually get to write the alphabet and have written my first 2 words. Ab which is "water" and asan which is "easy". If only you could see my attempts, they are quite funny, and if you think Persian looks like squiggles, wait till you see my attempts, I am rubbish, but things can only get better!!!
In the evening I have a headache (is all this excitement tiring you out reading this?) so I go to bed early, about 8pm. At 1am I am woken by the man who lives in the house opposite. Every night he comes home at 1am and then sits outside with his hand on the car horn blaring out to get the someone to come out and open the garage door. Now I am used to this and have learnt to handle it, BUT at 5.30am this morning a delivery lorry arrived (they have building works going on) and proceeded to hammer the horn mercilessly to signal his arrival - at 5.30am!!! Now this was the last straw, I opened my window and, using a variety of Anglo-Saxon terms, requested that he may desist from this practice as soon as possible, please. This may not have done Anglo-Afghan relations much good, but I sure felt better. Incredibly the driver got out of the cab, walked over to the house and knocked on the door.
You see, you only have to ask!!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
One day....................................
One day, Darth Vader will be feared throughout the Universe. But for now, its "get on your bike and go and queue for some bread" time. Be afraid, be very afraid!!!!!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Pamir flight 202 ("oh what a flight" as the 4 Seasons sang)
First of all, thanks to both my readers for the flood of comments that have deluged me. It has taken a while but I have managed to get through them all, although I am afraid I will not have time to answer each individual comment personally. It does make writing this drivel worthwhile. Am very interested in the comments about Brucie. Do they allow all male couples!!
I would like to start today's proceedings by replying to Clair and thanking her for her concern vis a vis my bowel movements. The nice German doctor says I have IBS. I have looked this up on the interweb thingy and am in a position now of having just enough knowledge to be dangerous to myself. You see, what I need are pro-biotics. You will have seen those Yakult type adverts showing how you will suddenly become a 25-year Adonis if you drink one of their little capsule things per day. Well we don't have them here BUT (and this is where the little knowledge is dangerous bit comes in), apparently pre-biotics will encourage the growth of your own internal, DNA matched, better than ones poured down your throat, made to measure, self multiplying pro-biotics. Now 3 things steeped in pre-biotics (wake up at the back and pay attention) are honey, ordinary yogurt and bananas. So everyday for breakfast and for my pudding in the evening this is what I eat and hey presto, everything is going quite well, although I still seem to teeter on the brink and, metaphorically, fall in every now and then for brief periods.
Now for the rest of you (Clair, you can stop reading now), I have a story of the antics of Pamir Flight 202 from Dubai to Kabul. Aha, you may be asking, what on Earth was our intrepid traveller doing in Dubai. Well, to cut a long story short and not bore you with the details (that is a change, I hear you sigh), my Afghan visa runs out this week and it is easier to get an Afghan visa in Dubai than Afghanistan, so I made a whistle stop visit to Dubai arriving on Saturday evening, getting a visa on Sunday and flying out first thing Monday morning.
Actually while we are talking about Dubai, let me tell you about my Sunday there. I got up at 7am as I needed to be at the embassy by 8am. After breakfast of yogurt only, yes my tummy felt dodgy, I asked the hotel to sort out a taxi to the embassy and the receptionist told me I could get one outside!!!
So, I went out and waited, and waited. Eventually a taxi did stop, but he did not know where the Afghan Embassy was so I let him go, then another came and the same problem. Eventually a man came up to me and asked me where I wanted to go and I told him. He was the driver for the hotel next door. He had no driving to do for an hour so he was happy to take me there and back - for a price. Anyway, I got there handed in all the info etc and then came back.
I would like to start today's proceedings by replying to Clair and thanking her for her concern vis a vis my bowel movements. The nice German doctor says I have IBS. I have looked this up on the interweb thingy and am in a position now of having just enough knowledge to be dangerous to myself. You see, what I need are pro-biotics. You will have seen those Yakult type adverts showing how you will suddenly become a 25-year Adonis if you drink one of their little capsule things per day. Well we don't have them here BUT (and this is where the little knowledge is dangerous bit comes in), apparently pre-biotics will encourage the growth of your own internal, DNA matched, better than ones poured down your throat, made to measure, self multiplying pro-biotics. Now 3 things steeped in pre-biotics (wake up at the back and pay attention) are honey, ordinary yogurt and bananas. So everyday for breakfast and for my pudding in the evening this is what I eat and hey presto, everything is going quite well, although I still seem to teeter on the brink and, metaphorically, fall in every now and then for brief periods.
Now for the rest of you (Clair, you can stop reading now), I have a story of the antics of Pamir Flight 202 from Dubai to Kabul. Aha, you may be asking, what on Earth was our intrepid traveller doing in Dubai. Well, to cut a long story short and not bore you with the details (that is a change, I hear you sigh), my Afghan visa runs out this week and it is easier to get an Afghan visa in Dubai than Afghanistan, so I made a whistle stop visit to Dubai arriving on Saturday evening, getting a visa on Sunday and flying out first thing Monday morning.
Actually while we are talking about Dubai, let me tell you about my Sunday there. I got up at 7am as I needed to be at the embassy by 8am. After breakfast of yogurt only, yes my tummy felt dodgy, I asked the hotel to sort out a taxi to the embassy and the receptionist told me I could get one outside!!!
So, I went out and waited, and waited. Eventually a taxi did stop, but he did not know where the Afghan Embassy was so I let him go, then another came and the same problem. Eventually a man came up to me and asked me where I wanted to go and I told him. He was the driver for the hotel next door. He had no driving to do for an hour so he was happy to take me there and back - for a price. Anyway, I got there handed in all the info etc and then came back.
I went up to the roof where there was a little pool and no people and spent a very pleasant and relaxing few hours on my own having a swim, reading my book, having a swim, reading my book etc. After that I went back to my room had a shower and headed back to the embassy. At least now I knew where it was so was able to direct the taxi driver. Once that was sorted (in typical Afghan style they had told me to go back between 2 and 4pm, I got there at 2.30pm and they were closed, but apparently would open soon!!) which they did.
After I had my passport back with my shiny, new Afghan visa, I got the driver to take me to the big shopping mall with the indoor ski area. Yes folks, there really is an indoor ski centre in Dubai. It is quite bizarre, 35C outside, -3C inside. With your skis you also get a coat and trousers. Really strange skiing and looking through the glass seeing people dressed in Arab wear or t-shirts and shorts watching me sking. But it was real snow and a hill at least the length of the average ski resort nursery slope.
Anyway, I spent a couple of hours there and had a great time, then after I had dinner in the TGI Fridays overlooking the ski slope.
I wandered round the mall for a while and then headed back to the hotel. I had a drink in the bar and then had an early night (as I had to be up at 4.30 today).
Now here we are, finally at the story of Pamir flight 202.
When they called the flight (1 hour late), the melee that ensued would have made the worst Ryanair scrum look like a tea party (and we had allocated seats). Me and a guy called Steve from Canada, just sat back and watched. Also everyone takes huge bags onto the plane. So, when we eventually got on the plane, our seats were taken, and all these people were sat there with their bags taking up the seat next to them. The plane was full and a quarter of the seats were full of luggage, it was chaos. So we just waited and eventually the cabin crew, who were tearing their hair out by now, managed to get the bags off the seats and pile them up across the emergency exit, and seated Steve in Business Class in the last seat there and I eventually found an aisle seat further back.
The plane took off the obligatory 2 hours late, with people sitting there, tables down, seats tilted back, chatting on their phones etc. They are TOTALLY incapable of following simple instructions or behaving in any form of communal way. They are just like children who need to be constantly supervised!!
The flight was OK, but when we got near Kabul chaos ensued again. As we began to get lower people were trying to use their phones to say we were coming in to land. And as for seat belts, you had the window seat person looking out the window, the middle seat, seat belt off leaning across him to see out, and the aisle seat person STANDING on his seat trying to look over their shoulders. This is absolutely true. The cabin crew had given up by now and belted themselves in and left us to it. As fast as they sat someone down they just got straight back up again!!
The moment we landed (we were still on the runway) they are up getting their bags out!!! and racing for the exit. Of course this really does not get the door opened any quicker or the steps put up, or even the baggage out the hold, but it is Kabul life.
So there you have it, today, two stories in one, I will regret this when I am struggling to think of something to tell you next time.
Till then.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Prancing Porker at the Paris Wedding Hall (Thursday night fever)
Before I begin, I would just like to tell you how underwhelmed I am by your comments. Lets hope this tale of derring-do will lift your spirits and create a response.Yesterday, all us foreigners (Khoragi), there are only 6 expats and 3000 Afghans in the organisation, were invited to Najibs wedding at the Paris Wedding Hall in downtown Kabul.
Now weddings are big affairs in Afghanistan and wedding halls are big business and HUGE places. Before I went I was told a wedding hall is a bit like being inside a wedding cake, and that was pretty true. A huge warehouse of a building on 3 floors decorated like a wedding cake!!!
A thousand people at a wedding is quite the norm. Now, when I say a thousand people at a wedding you have to understand a not so subtle and fundamental concept at this point. Although there is one wedding, there are two halls, one for the women and one for the men!! I may have explained this before, in the Afghan way, women are the property of their husbands (property as in a kettle or a television is your property) and the men are fearful of their property being stolen by each other so they keep it hidden. Hence an Afghan house has no windows on the ground floor that can be seen by a passer by (remember my recollections of the walls everywhere) and their women are dressed in Burkhas in public. (Of course, some people are more liberal than others, but this is a general rule). Anyway, that is the way, you have two rooms, one full of men and one full of women and the two do not meet during the wedding.
Three of us went to the wedding, one of which is female and although we got her special permission to stay with us in the Mens hall she did take a peek into the womens hall and said they were all dressed in really bright colours and looking great, then when they come out they put their Burkhas over the top and hid it all to enure another man is not driven crazy with desire and runs off with them.
When we got there we were escorted to a table in the corner where other Afghan HALO staff were seated. Some in suits and ties, some in their best Shalwar Kameez and some casually, a really wonderful mix of different styles of tradition and modern. Some also wearing the traditional Afghan flat rolled up hat.
There were about 300 men in the hall and presumably another 300 women in the womens hall. Everyone is sat around at tables chatting and enjoying the spectacle.
There is a traditional Pashtun band playing music with a really heavy beat and a rather high voiced singer. The dancing is called "Attan", I think and is derived from old, warrior dancing from the night before a battle. A group of men (preferably with long hair) are standing in a large circle in the dancing area in front of the very loud, thudding band. One man leads and the others follow his movements. This involves a lot of standard dance type waving of arms, spinning round and even dropping to your knees and shaking your head (and long hair) wildly. It is really quite spectacular and its warrior origins are pretty clear from the power of the dancing. The dance is also a sort of trial as it goes on until the last man is standing and the others have retired from tiredness. During the dancing one of the dancers will pick up a water urn and throw this over himself and the other dancers to cool them and to spur them on. Anyway, this went on for about an hour and there were about 4 of them left.
At this point the food was brought out and we all sat round and ate traditional Afghan fayre. Well, of course that excludes your humble narrator who had the salad and veg and some pudding, but avoided the copious meat dishes, which I am reliably informed were delicious.
Thank you for sticking with me so far, the action is about to begin.
Now maybe it is the middle age spread, the bald head, the Grant Mitchell look or simply my repartee, wit and charm, but everywhere I walked around this wedding hall greeting men I seemed to be a minor celebrity, so when the music started up again after the dinner, I found myself being dragged to the dance floor by a group of men who all seemed intent on dancing with me. Yes, honestly, these guys came over to me and took my arm and dragged me to the dance floor. This is absolutely true, they called out to the band and had a tune they thought appropriate put on and the dance floor cleared to leave me and one selected member of their group standing there on our own in the middle of the floor surrounded by 300 clapping, cheering Afghan men.
I had two choices: run and forever shame the Empire or to take up the challenge and show them what I learnt all those years ago at Broomfield Church Hall disco, (Moonstomper, eat your heart out). At this point I must apologise to John Travolta, thank God these guys have never seen Saturday Night Fever, for this was Thursday Night Fever, it was going to be brief, brutal and barely watcheable!!
As the thumping drum beat pounded out we faced each other just a few feet apart, my adversory raised his arms outstretched to his sides like a matador stalking his prey and looked me straight in the eye. I did likewise. This was to be a dancing duel and for God, Queen, Empire and John Travolta, I was not to be cowed or defeated.
We circled each other, the drum beat loud and urgent, the assembled throng of men expectant, yet nervous, how would the Khoragi react, what new moves would he bring to the dancefloor, could he outdance and cow his adversary. I jumped into the air, crossed my legs, landed and did a full 360 turn, battle had commenced and the crowd loved it, they clapped to the beat and cheered as I turned (and did not fall over, thank goodness there is no alcohol at an Afghan wedding). I had taken the initiative and was determined not to relinquish it, the beat continued to boom out, the high voiced singer pitched to new heights and I launched into a move all the way across the dance floor, crossing my legs and uncrossing them as I went, arms switching in synchronicity with my feet, I closed my eyes and was back there in Broomfield circa 1970's, the beat was Bee Gees, the high voice was Barry Gibb, John Travolta was running through my veins, nothing could could stop me now (if only I had a jacket to throw off). I opened my eyes and there in front of me was my black leather coated adversary stalking me (if you don't believe me, look at the picture carefully, you will see a man in black leather coat facing me across the dance floor, we were the only 2 dancing and everyone was watching us), he twisted, he turned, he waved his arms, but he had nothing new to throw at JT, this was to be my victory, I just had to stay there in the 70s, no fear, no hesitation, no quarter given, I was dancing for the Empire and it was to be a dance to the death. As the time ticked by I began to tire the swift turns and twists across the expanse of the dancefloor were taking there toll. My younger adversary began to sense his comeback was about to begin, he moved in closer to intimidate and to test my resolve and then.............. the beat stopped, the music finished, the Hall went quiet, I had made it to the end, and the Hall erupted into applause and two worthy and sweaty opponents embraced each other, the gaunlet had been picked up, brushed down and firmly worn, the challenge had been met, equalled and then surpassed. Ceroc classes were never like this!!
After that we sat and chatted for a while, then made our apologies and left, walking out, heads held high.
We never saw the bride, or a single woman, but the groom did come to visit us, who he married we shall never know.
During the reign of the Taleban dancing and music were strictly prohibited. This could never have happened under their rule. I am told the man on the left of the photo taking a picture, with the scarf over his shoulder and the little hat on is a Taleb. I wonder what he made of it all!!!
Monday, November 12, 2007
shopping
Hello one and all,
I am assuming you are both still there, although I have had no comments for nearly a month, so maybe I am talking to myself, which, frankly, is not really anything new.
I went carpet shopping on Friday so I thought I would give you a slice of Kabul life. Me and two other housemates went to a carpet seller that is well known to us as a good chap and all round reasonably priced carpet seller.
In the centre of Kabul is a street called Flower Street, which is by a street called Butchers Street, which is by a street called Chicken Street (I think you get the idea). Well, as it would happen, halfway down Chicken Street is an entrance to a courtyard which is surrounded on all sides by a block of flats. In effect, the courtyard (what we called at school, a Quad). The flats on the first floor are all shops, some of which are carpet shops, so we trotted off to see our favoured carpet seller.
The shop was like an Aladdin's cave, carpets on the floor, carpets on the walls and piles all around of neatly folded carpets.
We explained what sort of carpets we are looking for (there are an amazing array of different styles from different places) and he proceeded to go through the piles and would select ones that matched our description and would pull this out and lay on the floor in front of us. Of course, by this time we had also been given our obligatory cup of tea, whilst we sat on a sofa to look at the wares. As the pile in front of us grew, if you particularly liked a carpet it was put to one side. After about 45 minutes we had a pile more than knee deep in front of us of carpets laid one on top of the other. Each carpet you would say, "what type of carpet is this" and the answer would be, "oh this is a Kunduz/Hazara/Persian/Iranian/Herat and so on, carpet. All the carpets are hand made and beautiful, particularly the silk carpets from Iran which shimmer in the light and change colour depending on where you are looking at it from.
Anyway, I did buy a carpet, a rather fine Hazara carpet. The word Hazar is Dari for One Thousand. The word Hazara is the name given to the people who live in Central Afghanistan in an area of Baglan that is pretty difficult to get to. They are the direct descendants of a 1000 man garrison left there by Genghis Khan (so I am told) and I have one of their carpets. Thank goodness I paid!
Till the next time.
I am assuming you are both still there, although I have had no comments for nearly a month, so maybe I am talking to myself, which, frankly, is not really anything new.
I went carpet shopping on Friday so I thought I would give you a slice of Kabul life. Me and two other housemates went to a carpet seller that is well known to us as a good chap and all round reasonably priced carpet seller.
In the centre of Kabul is a street called Flower Street, which is by a street called Butchers Street, which is by a street called Chicken Street (I think you get the idea). Well, as it would happen, halfway down Chicken Street is an entrance to a courtyard which is surrounded on all sides by a block of flats. In effect, the courtyard (what we called at school, a Quad). The flats on the first floor are all shops, some of which are carpet shops, so we trotted off to see our favoured carpet seller.
The shop was like an Aladdin's cave, carpets on the floor, carpets on the walls and piles all around of neatly folded carpets.
We explained what sort of carpets we are looking for (there are an amazing array of different styles from different places) and he proceeded to go through the piles and would select ones that matched our description and would pull this out and lay on the floor in front of us. Of course, by this time we had also been given our obligatory cup of tea, whilst we sat on a sofa to look at the wares. As the pile in front of us grew, if you particularly liked a carpet it was put to one side. After about 45 minutes we had a pile more than knee deep in front of us of carpets laid one on top of the other. Each carpet you would say, "what type of carpet is this" and the answer would be, "oh this is a Kunduz/Hazara/Persian/Iranian/Herat and so on, carpet. All the carpets are hand made and beautiful, particularly the silk carpets from Iran which shimmer in the light and change colour depending on where you are looking at it from.
Anyway, I did buy a carpet, a rather fine Hazara carpet. The word Hazar is Dari for One Thousand. The word Hazara is the name given to the people who live in Central Afghanistan in an area of Baglan that is pretty difficult to get to. They are the direct descendants of a 1000 man garrison left there by Genghis Khan (so I am told) and I have one of their carpets. Thank goodness I paid!
Till the next time.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Icons of Kabul Life
At last, I have worked out this picture thingy.
After much dithering your blogger has finally found out how to shrink a photo to a size that will fit on the blog. SO here it is a picture of our house in Kabul!
Yes, this really is a "good" neighbourhood of Kabul, we are not badly off compared to most of the residents of the city. More than 60% of the "houses" in Kabul are illegally built. More than 3 million refugees have returned to the city and it is bursting, so people build a mud brick house wherever they can find a piece of land. Now Kabul, s at 1800m high and sits in a plain surrounded by mountains. Most of the illegal houses are literally perched on the hillsides, made of mud brick, have no water, electricity or gas supply. Everything is carried up the mountainside to the "house". Any ruined building will have tatty tarpaulins around a devastated room and people will be living in there, in tents, literally anything.
Ah, I hear you ask, what are the icons of Kabul life, well we have three in this picture which are very common sites here in Kabul and probably unusual where you are.
1) The armoured car. This Nissan Patrol weighs 4 tonnes, has armour plating beneath and the doors etc around the people bit. This makes the doors very heavy and difficult to open and close. It also has bullet/blast proof glass all round.
2) The armed guard outside our house, these are also the guards who travel ith us and, you will remember, went to the zoo with me.
3)The woman wearing the Burkha, covered from head to toe with just a grill to see throgh. Now I hope you may understand my humour at watching these ladies trying to eat a picnic in the zoo.
Oh yes, if you click on the photo it will enlarge. The big window at teh top with the bars on it, thats my bedroom. My view on the world!!
My next treat for you is, I hope, a piccie of demining in action.
Today I am off to buy a carpet, inshallah. Will let you know how it goes.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
my little table
No major happening here folks, just a quick story about, well not much really.
Now last week, my little world that is amazingly narrow was brightened up with a moment that will seem trivial and irrelevant to you, but was a heartwarming moment for me.
You see, in my room in the house is a desk and chair, a bed and a cupboard, and really not much else. it is from the desk and chair I sit and pen these missives to you.
So last week, there I was in the Finance Office, doing financy sorts of things and chatting to my assistant (Najib) that it would be really good if I had a little bedside table to put my torch, book and glasses on when I go to bed.
Well that evening when I went to put my bag in the back of the car to go home, there in the back is a little bedside table that had been made in the carpentry workshop that afternoon. I asked the driver what it was doing there and he told me "Mr. Najib, tell carpenter to make table for you"
Aargh, aren't some people just plain decent folks.
There, just a short story to warm the cockles of your heart.
Now last week, my little world that is amazingly narrow was brightened up with a moment that will seem trivial and irrelevant to you, but was a heartwarming moment for me.
You see, in my room in the house is a desk and chair, a bed and a cupboard, and really not much else. it is from the desk and chair I sit and pen these missives to you.
So last week, there I was in the Finance Office, doing financy sorts of things and chatting to my assistant (Najib) that it would be really good if I had a little bedside table to put my torch, book and glasses on when I go to bed.
Well that evening when I went to put my bag in the back of the car to go home, there in the back is a little bedside table that had been made in the carpentry workshop that afternoon. I asked the driver what it was doing there and he told me "Mr. Najib, tell carpenter to make table for you"
Aargh, aren't some people just plain decent folks.
There, just a short story to warm the cockles of your heart.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
The battle of the Jalalabad Road
Greetings one and all, today a story steeped in Kabul with no meanderings or wanderings involved, just straight Kabul talk!
For those of you who have been following my scribblings for a while you will know that the Jalalabad Road is also called "Suicide Alley" due to the number of suicide bombers we get along here. However, without tempting fate, I would say that nothing untoward has happened for a few weeks now so that is good news.
The battle of Jalalabad Road has nothing to do with suicide bombers or any violence, just a touch of anarchy that I find amusing, irritating and in the end am a little envious of.
A doctor I know recently said " driving is still the preferred pastime of the Afghan who wishes to end his life prematurely". I found this a wonderfully colourful and rather convoluted way of saying there is almost no discipline involved in driving in Kabul.
If the traffic on the dual carriageway is slow, then go over to the other carriageway and simply drive the wrong way down it, if it is too far to go round the roundabout then simply cut straight across the corner, overtaking, undertaking, copious use of the horn and the flashing of lights are mandatory and whatever you do, NEVER wait for a gap in the traffic when pulling out of a side turning. Just pull out.
A short time here makes you realise just how disciplined driving in the Western world is. We can be stopped by a red light, we can be directed by a white line painted on the road, without question and yet the white line has no real power, only our respect for it and what it stands for. Which brings me to the battle of the Jalalabad Road.
You see, as I said earlier the Jalalabad Road is a dual carriageway with a divide in the middle about 6 feet wide and a high kerb on either side to create the divide. All along the road are a number of compounds, offices etc.
So, if this was in, shall we say, Sheffield, any vehicle that wanted to go to a compound on the other side of the road would go to the next junction turn round and come back down the other carriageway to the place they wanted to go and turn in. But not in Kabul, every day more and more kerbstones get knocked over and put across the central gap as paving to make a turning point straight into the compound they want to go to. We had almost reached the point where there was more gap that kerbing, which created complete anarchy as everyone was able to cross everywhere!!
So for the last few weeks the authorities have been re-cementing the kerbs back in place every day and the people have been knocking them back down, and so the battle of the Jalalabad Road has continued. However a new tactic has been employed and the authorities are finally winning. They re-cement the kerbstones in and then fill the gap with soil about 18 inches deep making a small bank in between. So now if the kerbs are much more difficult to knock down and you still have to get the vehicle up over the bank. So once again the authorities are winning.
So, like I say, this anarchy has been really irritating when you try to get down the dual carriageway and there are lorries and cars turning every 50 yards, at the same time is is amusing to see the war of attrition going on between the Ministry of Traffic and the drivers and ultimately, I have a grudging respect for this complete lack of reverence for the authorities and their attempt to improve the traffic chaos that is Kabul. To the Afghan driver it is quite simple: "I want to go there and that is where I shall go, by the quickest, shortest and straightest route regardless of any consequent inconvenience or danger that may be caused to myself or others"
So there you have it, a snippet of life in Kabul.
I still haven't told you about my table, you must be on tenterhooks wondering what it could possibly be.
For those of you who have been following my scribblings for a while you will know that the Jalalabad Road is also called "Suicide Alley" due to the number of suicide bombers we get along here. However, without tempting fate, I would say that nothing untoward has happened for a few weeks now so that is good news.
The battle of Jalalabad Road has nothing to do with suicide bombers or any violence, just a touch of anarchy that I find amusing, irritating and in the end am a little envious of.
A doctor I know recently said " driving is still the preferred pastime of the Afghan who wishes to end his life prematurely". I found this a wonderfully colourful and rather convoluted way of saying there is almost no discipline involved in driving in Kabul.
If the traffic on the dual carriageway is slow, then go over to the other carriageway and simply drive the wrong way down it, if it is too far to go round the roundabout then simply cut straight across the corner, overtaking, undertaking, copious use of the horn and the flashing of lights are mandatory and whatever you do, NEVER wait for a gap in the traffic when pulling out of a side turning. Just pull out.
A short time here makes you realise just how disciplined driving in the Western world is. We can be stopped by a red light, we can be directed by a white line painted on the road, without question and yet the white line has no real power, only our respect for it and what it stands for. Which brings me to the battle of the Jalalabad Road.
You see, as I said earlier the Jalalabad Road is a dual carriageway with a divide in the middle about 6 feet wide and a high kerb on either side to create the divide. All along the road are a number of compounds, offices etc.
So, if this was in, shall we say, Sheffield, any vehicle that wanted to go to a compound on the other side of the road would go to the next junction turn round and come back down the other carriageway to the place they wanted to go and turn in. But not in Kabul, every day more and more kerbstones get knocked over and put across the central gap as paving to make a turning point straight into the compound they want to go to. We had almost reached the point where there was more gap that kerbing, which created complete anarchy as everyone was able to cross everywhere!!
So for the last few weeks the authorities have been re-cementing the kerbs back in place every day and the people have been knocking them back down, and so the battle of the Jalalabad Road has continued. However a new tactic has been employed and the authorities are finally winning. They re-cement the kerbstones in and then fill the gap with soil about 18 inches deep making a small bank in between. So now if the kerbs are much more difficult to knock down and you still have to get the vehicle up over the bank. So once again the authorities are winning.
So, like I say, this anarchy has been really irritating when you try to get down the dual carriageway and there are lorries and cars turning every 50 yards, at the same time is is amusing to see the war of attrition going on between the Ministry of Traffic and the drivers and ultimately, I have a grudging respect for this complete lack of reverence for the authorities and their attempt to improve the traffic chaos that is Kabul. To the Afghan driver it is quite simple: "I want to go there and that is where I shall go, by the quickest, shortest and straightest route regardless of any consequent inconvenience or danger that may be caused to myself or others"
So there you have it, a snippet of life in Kabul.
I still haven't told you about my table, you must be on tenterhooks wondering what it could possibly be.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Pirate for an hour
Good day to you all,
Today, I wish to share with you an experience that is not Kabul based, but happened this week and was important to me. This may be a trip down memory lane for some, I know some of you were more involved than others with the Pirates off our coasts, some of you will simply be wondering what on earth I am going on about!
You see, growing up in Kent in the 60's and then more so as a teenager in the 70's we had the joy of the Pirate radio stations off our shores. I was too young for the early Pirates, the Big L, Radio London and the like and came to it more in the late 60's, early 70's. In those days we listened to stations on Medium Wave (AM as it is now known) and stations had wavelengths instead of frequencies. Laser on 558. Caroline on 259 and so on.
As teenagers, myself and the Macrae brothers were avid listeners. After the UK Marine Offences Act the Pirates moved to be based in Holland and we mainly listened to RNI (Radio Northsea International) and another less well known station Radio Atlantis and of course, Radio Caroline. In 1974, the Dutch too passed a Marine Offences Act and the Pirates were finally silenced. I remember a group of boys sat around a small transistor radio in the South Quad at school, frantically trying to keep tuned to the signal listening to the final broadcast of RNI as it closed down at, I think, 11am. The next class after morning break began at 11am and we all trudged into class late, a tear in our eyes as a piece of our lives were silenced forever. I still remember the last record played was "The Long and Winding Road".
However, one station defied all, both the Dutch and British Governments and continued to broadcast from the Ross Revenge. The Mother of them all, Radio Caroline vowed to continue and throughout this period we listened to the likes of Stevie Merike, Tony Allen and Andy Archer on scratchy transistor radios, records sometimes jumping all over the place as a storm tossed the ship on the ocean (no CDs, just good old vinyl records). Frequently we would send postcards to the Spanish address with requests. In fact, somewhere in a cupboard is a book I kept of the top 40's. Every week, me and the Macrae bros would sit in their playroom and listen to the top 40 and record it in a book for prosterity.
So upset were we on the day the oher stations cloed down, me and John got a boat to Zeebrugge the next day , then got a bus to Schevenigen, slept in a bus shelter overnight and then saw the Radio Atlantis boat brought into harbour for the last time, and watched as Customs officers supervised the welding shut of the doors as the boat was impounded. (Not bad for a couple of 16yr olds). We had no idea what we were doing, but we HAD to be there!!! It was what I would call an event and we had to witness it.
Now where is all this waffle leading you may ask and what has it to do with Kabul 2007. Well, Radio Caroline is still broadcasting, now from studios in Maidstone on the internet and on Sky channel 0199 (so give it a listen!!)
From 9am to 10am every morning they broadcast a Top 15 sent in by a listener. Well, I sent mine in from dusty Kabul a few weeks ago and on Wednesday Oct 31st they broadcast it. So after more than 30 years I got to choose the music on Radio Caroline for a whole hour, I was a "Pirate for an hour".
The wonders of the internet, from postcards that took weeks to go to Spain and then finally arrive on a ship out in the North Sea to instant internet access from Kabul, Afghanistan. A dream come true for me, a true event as far as I am concerned.
What would that teenager in the 70's have thought if you had told him 30 years later he would choose not just a request, but a whole hour and top 15 on Radio Caroline, and send it from Afghanistan!!
I think thats worth a drink.
Next time, the "Battle of the Jalalabad Road" or "Anarchy on the streets"
Today, I wish to share with you an experience that is not Kabul based, but happened this week and was important to me. This may be a trip down memory lane for some, I know some of you were more involved than others with the Pirates off our coasts, some of you will simply be wondering what on earth I am going on about!
You see, growing up in Kent in the 60's and then more so as a teenager in the 70's we had the joy of the Pirate radio stations off our shores. I was too young for the early Pirates, the Big L, Radio London and the like and came to it more in the late 60's, early 70's. In those days we listened to stations on Medium Wave (AM as it is now known) and stations had wavelengths instead of frequencies. Laser on 558. Caroline on 259 and so on.
As teenagers, myself and the Macrae brothers were avid listeners. After the UK Marine Offences Act the Pirates moved to be based in Holland and we mainly listened to RNI (Radio Northsea International) and another less well known station Radio Atlantis and of course, Radio Caroline. In 1974, the Dutch too passed a Marine Offences Act and the Pirates were finally silenced. I remember a group of boys sat around a small transistor radio in the South Quad at school, frantically trying to keep tuned to the signal listening to the final broadcast of RNI as it closed down at, I think, 11am. The next class after morning break began at 11am and we all trudged into class late, a tear in our eyes as a piece of our lives were silenced forever. I still remember the last record played was "The Long and Winding Road".
However, one station defied all, both the Dutch and British Governments and continued to broadcast from the Ross Revenge. The Mother of them all, Radio Caroline vowed to continue and throughout this period we listened to the likes of Stevie Merike, Tony Allen and Andy Archer on scratchy transistor radios, records sometimes jumping all over the place as a storm tossed the ship on the ocean (no CDs, just good old vinyl records). Frequently we would send postcards to the Spanish address with requests. In fact, somewhere in a cupboard is a book I kept of the top 40's. Every week, me and the Macrae bros would sit in their playroom and listen to the top 40 and record it in a book for prosterity.
So upset were we on the day the oher stations cloed down, me and John got a boat to Zeebrugge the next day , then got a bus to Schevenigen, slept in a bus shelter overnight and then saw the Radio Atlantis boat brought into harbour for the last time, and watched as Customs officers supervised the welding shut of the doors as the boat was impounded. (Not bad for a couple of 16yr olds). We had no idea what we were doing, but we HAD to be there!!! It was what I would call an event and we had to witness it.
Now where is all this waffle leading you may ask and what has it to do with Kabul 2007. Well, Radio Caroline is still broadcasting, now from studios in Maidstone on the internet and on Sky channel 0199 (so give it a listen!!)
From 9am to 10am every morning they broadcast a Top 15 sent in by a listener. Well, I sent mine in from dusty Kabul a few weeks ago and on Wednesday Oct 31st they broadcast it. So after more than 30 years I got to choose the music on Radio Caroline for a whole hour, I was a "Pirate for an hour".
The wonders of the internet, from postcards that took weeks to go to Spain and then finally arrive on a ship out in the North Sea to instant internet access from Kabul, Afghanistan. A dream come true for me, a true event as far as I am concerned.
What would that teenager in the 70's have thought if you had told him 30 years later he would choose not just a request, but a whole hour and top 15 on Radio Caroline, and send it from Afghanistan!!
I think thats worth a drink.
Next time, the "Battle of the Jalalabad Road" or "Anarchy on the streets"
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
we're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo
Here I am once again, feeling as fit as a fiddle with no strings, with a new tale of thrills and spills in downtown Kabul.
On Friday, I went to the zoo. Well, me and my driver and my armed guard went to the zoo for a day (well, an hour) out. A fine time was had by all. Actually my plan was to visit the Kabul museum and this cultural event was something I was looking forward to, but I am sorry to report it is closed on Friday, so please if you are thinking of going next Friday - DON'T, it ain't open.
But all was not lost Zabi, pointed out the zoo as we passed it on the way to the museum and so that was our target now.
We parked up outside and headed off to the ticket booth. 10Afs each, oh except the khoragi (thats us foreigners) 100Afs to me. (Ok that is a whole £1). Off the three of us trotted. The question is, where should your armed guard be, beside you, in front of you or behind you. Well, I thought he was behind me, but when I turned round he had disappeared. Apparently gone off to the loo. For a full two minutes I was at the mercy of any Taleban snatch squads that happened to be patrolling Kabul zoo. Actually part of the reason I went to Kabul zoo was because every khoragi I told I was going to the zoo said "why would you want to go there" and no-one had been. So I thought it would be a good place to go and mingle with Afghans instead of endless expats. And so it was, which also makes it a very safe place. If you were looking for Khoragi to kidnap or kill, you really would not hang around the zoo!!!!!
I digress (one of my big regrets is not getting a piccie of me and guard at the monkey house). Anyway, we went round the zoo, there were a number of bears, monkeys,various birds including some huge owls, an aquarium, gazelles and a collection of ducks (Mallards and Aylesburys) It made me quite homesick for Lane End pond.
So we had a good wander round and enjoyed the animals. I will say it will not win any awards for the pens etc the animals are in, but they are not anywhere near as bad as I expected, particularly considering the area it is in and the devastation all around it. Yes, there are parts of the zoo you have to climb over the rubble to get round, and a lot of concrete in the pens, but these are difficult circumstances. The animals are certainly better off than many of the people I have seen here.
However, the animals were not the real entertainment.You see the zoo, like most zoos is full of families, Mums, Dads and children and many of them were having picnics. This seems pretty straightforward until you realise the women are wearing the obligatory Burkhas. This covers them from the head down to the feet with a fine mesh grill to see through, and no mouth hole. So food disappears up under the Burkha, not sure what happens then!!
When we got back to the house there was the tinkling of the ice cream man walking down the road with his ice cream barrel. This was too much of a chance to miss, so I treated Zabi, the guard and the guard outside the house to ice creams. He opened the barrel and it was full of Magnums.!!!! Exactly the same as at home but a bit smaller and only 30p. Oh yes and they were almost melted. We all had one, mine almost slipped off the stick and I had to devour it in one mouthful, one of the guards opened the packet and it just fell off onto the floor. He complained and the mother of all arguments raged for the next 5 mins. The ice cream seller became completely irate and would not even SELL us another ice cream let alone replace the fallen one. Eventually he stomped of deliberatley running his cart over the ice cream on the floor to prove some sort of point.
So there it was, a day with the Afghans. Great fun.
Ask me about my new bedside table, there is another story that will show you how bored I am!!!
On Friday, I went to the zoo. Well, me and my driver and my armed guard went to the zoo for a day (well, an hour) out. A fine time was had by all. Actually my plan was to visit the Kabul museum and this cultural event was something I was looking forward to, but I am sorry to report it is closed on Friday, so please if you are thinking of going next Friday - DON'T, it ain't open.
But all was not lost Zabi, pointed out the zoo as we passed it on the way to the museum and so that was our target now.
We parked up outside and headed off to the ticket booth. 10Afs each, oh except the khoragi (thats us foreigners) 100Afs to me. (Ok that is a whole £1). Off the three of us trotted. The question is, where should your armed guard be, beside you, in front of you or behind you. Well, I thought he was behind me, but when I turned round he had disappeared. Apparently gone off to the loo. For a full two minutes I was at the mercy of any Taleban snatch squads that happened to be patrolling Kabul zoo. Actually part of the reason I went to Kabul zoo was because every khoragi I told I was going to the zoo said "why would you want to go there" and no-one had been. So I thought it would be a good place to go and mingle with Afghans instead of endless expats. And so it was, which also makes it a very safe place. If you were looking for Khoragi to kidnap or kill, you really would not hang around the zoo!!!!!
I digress (one of my big regrets is not getting a piccie of me and guard at the monkey house). Anyway, we went round the zoo, there were a number of bears, monkeys,various birds including some huge owls, an aquarium, gazelles and a collection of ducks (Mallards and Aylesburys) It made me quite homesick for Lane End pond.
So we had a good wander round and enjoyed the animals. I will say it will not win any awards for the pens etc the animals are in, but they are not anywhere near as bad as I expected, particularly considering the area it is in and the devastation all around it. Yes, there are parts of the zoo you have to climb over the rubble to get round, and a lot of concrete in the pens, but these are difficult circumstances. The animals are certainly better off than many of the people I have seen here.
However, the animals were not the real entertainment.You see the zoo, like most zoos is full of families, Mums, Dads and children and many of them were having picnics. This seems pretty straightforward until you realise the women are wearing the obligatory Burkhas. This covers them from the head down to the feet with a fine mesh grill to see through, and no mouth hole. So food disappears up under the Burkha, not sure what happens then!!
When we got back to the house there was the tinkling of the ice cream man walking down the road with his ice cream barrel. This was too much of a chance to miss, so I treated Zabi, the guard and the guard outside the house to ice creams. He opened the barrel and it was full of Magnums.!!!! Exactly the same as at home but a bit smaller and only 30p. Oh yes and they were almost melted. We all had one, mine almost slipped off the stick and I had to devour it in one mouthful, one of the guards opened the packet and it just fell off onto the floor. He complained and the mother of all arguments raged for the next 5 mins. The ice cream seller became completely irate and would not even SELL us another ice cream let alone replace the fallen one. Eventually he stomped of deliberatley running his cart over the ice cream on the floor to prove some sort of point.
So there it was, a day with the Afghans. Great fun.
Ask me about my new bedside table, there is another story that will show you how bored I am!!!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Istanbul
Now, where was I?
As you know I arrived in Istanbul 3 hours early and Sarah 1 hour late, so in total I was at Istanbul airport 6 hours waiting. Not so bad, there is even (and Clair you will be pleased to know this) a Starbucks and a Burger King in Istanbul airport. However, a 6 hour wait was not what my deteriorating bowels required.
So to conclude this chapter without further details I can say that I spent my first 24hours in Istanbul in bed for all the wrong reasons!
Istanbul is a wonderful place where East meets West, Asia meets Europe, Islam meets Christianity. The city is part in Europe and part in Asia, split by the Bosphorous with its great Russian container ships and tankers plying their way up to the Black Sea. Of course, in the days of the cold war, Istanbul was also a place of great intrigue where the West could monitor the movements of the Soviet fleet in and out of its only accesible winter ports on the Black Sea.
We visited the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Topkapi Palace as well as a delightful rooftop restaurant and a magical trip by boat across the Bosphorous to Asia for a lovely restaurant one evening.
The visit was over too quickly and time to head back to the airport. Now you will, of course, remember I arrived early and had a 6 hour wait. SO it is only right that I would depart late (delayed from 11pm to 1am, the next morning) and again have the pleasure of Istanbul airport for a full 8 hours rest and relaxation.
The plane back to Kabul was the same plane as the one I arrived on. This time I declined all offers of food and tried to sleep the whole way back, arriving at 7am, just in time for work!! Oh yes, did I tell you the back half of the plane was occupied by about 20 blokes all in pairs handcuffed together with guards at front and back!!
I can't tell what how good it felt to be back in Kabul, I can't tell you because it didn't!!! But here I am again folks.
Tomorrow I shall tell you of the "Great Security Breach", oh, and Clair, I will tell you more about shopping in Downtown Kabul!!!
As you know I arrived in Istanbul 3 hours early and Sarah 1 hour late, so in total I was at Istanbul airport 6 hours waiting. Not so bad, there is even (and Clair you will be pleased to know this) a Starbucks and a Burger King in Istanbul airport. However, a 6 hour wait was not what my deteriorating bowels required.
So to conclude this chapter without further details I can say that I spent my first 24hours in Istanbul in bed for all the wrong reasons!
Istanbul is a wonderful place where East meets West, Asia meets Europe, Islam meets Christianity. The city is part in Europe and part in Asia, split by the Bosphorous with its great Russian container ships and tankers plying their way up to the Black Sea. Of course, in the days of the cold war, Istanbul was also a place of great intrigue where the West could monitor the movements of the Soviet fleet in and out of its only accesible winter ports on the Black Sea.
We visited the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Topkapi Palace as well as a delightful rooftop restaurant and a magical trip by boat across the Bosphorous to Asia for a lovely restaurant one evening.
The visit was over too quickly and time to head back to the airport. Now you will, of course, remember I arrived early and had a 6 hour wait. SO it is only right that I would depart late (delayed from 11pm to 1am, the next morning) and again have the pleasure of Istanbul airport for a full 8 hours rest and relaxation.
The plane back to Kabul was the same plane as the one I arrived on. This time I declined all offers of food and tried to sleep the whole way back, arriving at 7am, just in time for work!! Oh yes, did I tell you the back half of the plane was occupied by about 20 blokes all in pairs handcuffed together with guards at front and back!!
I can't tell what how good it felt to be back in Kabul, I can't tell you because it didn't!!! But here I am again folks.
Tomorrow I shall tell you of the "Great Security Breach", oh, and Clair, I will tell you more about shopping in Downtown Kabul!!!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Escape to Istanbul
You may think that a title like "Escape to Istanbul" is just a tad dramatic, but believe me, that is exactly how it felt. I shall relate the intrepid story of derring-do and you can judge for yourself.
So, here we are; it is 4.30am all is quiet in Kabul, it is pitch black and the alarm goes off. The driver is coming at 5am and my flight is at 7am, what could possibly go wrong. I packed last night, I even had a little present stashed away in my bag, all I need is a "sh.., shower and shave" and I shall be on my way. One small but important point, no make that two small, but important points. We have no electricity and we have no water, making all 3 of the above rather less than attractive. I am sorry but this toilet thing will crop up again in this post.
So we head off to the airport which is closed until 5.30am and join a long and rather noisy queue on the approach road. Once we start moving we come to the first army checkpoint which appears to only exist for the annoyance of passengers. They peer into the car, then knock on the window. We open the door (you can't wind down windows in armoured cars) and the say "Eid, Mubarak" (Happy Eid) and hold out their hands. We then proceed to the first police checkpoint where I have to get out of the vehicle and carry the bags into a hut where they go through a scanner. The nice man who scans the bag then puts out his hand and says "Eid Mubarak". I pick up my bag and return to the vehicle where a soldier blocks my way and points me back to the hut. I return to the hut and we go through the same ritual. Finally, I am allowed back into the vehicle and we drive on, until we reach the car park. I then leave the car and driver and walk towards the airport building. To get out of the car park I have to show my passport and ticket to another policeman who says, well you know what he says, don't you?
I then walk across from the car park to the terminal building where there are soldiers outside. I show them my passport and ticket, they look at my bags and thrust out a hand and say.....
Once I have passed them I go to the emigration desk where I have to pay 500Afs to leave the country. No problem, except for the soldier who is standing next to the office who thrusts out his hand and says....
Slowly we are making progress. To get to the check-in desk it is necessary to go through a security check of bags and persons which is carried out with the customary greeting and hand offering. At check-in there is a nice man who puts my bag on the check in scales to our now familiar and customary greeting. Having finally got rid of my bags I head for the departure gate. I will not bore with even yet more details, but suffice to say I passed two more police desks and finally got to passport control. This was manned by a gentleman that took so long over each passport that I timed him. (Yes I realise that is a bit sad, but I was getting a little irritated at this point). He took 7, yes seven, minutes to scrutinise my passport, tap his keyboard, wave my passport in front of some mysterious machine and finally stamp it and wave me through. However, things were about to rather significantly speed up!!
Even though the flight was due to leave at 7am and we did not leave until 7.50am. Ariana Afghan Airlines managed to get me to Istanbul 3 HOURS EARLY. This could be due to incredible high tail winds, a fantastic new super fast plane or simply that we were supposed to fly to Baku and Ankara on the way. But instead we went straight to Istanbul and cut out all that fiddling about. Suited me fine, but really upset the people who wanted to go to Baku and Ankara!! So I arrived 3 hours early. Meanwhile, Sarah travelling on intrepid, super reliable, worlds favourite airline, British Airways arrived 1 hour late!!! I note just a hint of irony in that.
Now, I may be 3 hours early and I can hear you cheer this small victory, but of course, it was not all plain sailing (or should that be plane flying!!)
The plane was a very early Airbus 300. Apparently it was given to Afghan Airlines by the Indian Government because Pakistan had given Afghanistan a fleet of buses and India did not want to be outdone!! I don't think anything had been fixed or cleaned on this plane for years, it was foul, but it flew, took off well, made a good landing and got me there and back, so I am happy, but you just knew there would be a story attached!!
I don't know whether it was the plane meal or something else, but within an hour of taking off I was heading for the toilet with, shall we say, loose bowels.
There is no toilet paper in the loo, the door does not lock and I am trying to hover over the toilet without any physical contact. Next thing I know there is banging on the door and shouting from outside from the crew. The smoke alarm has gone off for some reason and the crew think I am having a crafty smoke. So now, if you can imagine the scene, I am trying to hover above the seat and direct my loose bowel movements into the bowl, jam one foot against the door to stop it bursting open from the banging outside, hold my trousers up from falling onto the floor into the wet underfoot and tear up the cardboard centre of the remains of the toilet roll!! (Is this too much detail?). Anyway, to cut a long story to medium, the alarm stopped, the banging on the door stopped and something approaching sanity resumed.
On that note, I too shall resume tomorrow, with happy tales of Istanbul.
So, here we are; it is 4.30am all is quiet in Kabul, it is pitch black and the alarm goes off. The driver is coming at 5am and my flight is at 7am, what could possibly go wrong. I packed last night, I even had a little present stashed away in my bag, all I need is a "sh.., shower and shave" and I shall be on my way. One small but important point, no make that two small, but important points. We have no electricity and we have no water, making all 3 of the above rather less than attractive. I am sorry but this toilet thing will crop up again in this post.
So we head off to the airport which is closed until 5.30am and join a long and rather noisy queue on the approach road. Once we start moving we come to the first army checkpoint which appears to only exist for the annoyance of passengers. They peer into the car, then knock on the window. We open the door (you can't wind down windows in armoured cars) and the say "Eid, Mubarak" (Happy Eid) and hold out their hands. We then proceed to the first police checkpoint where I have to get out of the vehicle and carry the bags into a hut where they go through a scanner. The nice man who scans the bag then puts out his hand and says "Eid Mubarak". I pick up my bag and return to the vehicle where a soldier blocks my way and points me back to the hut. I return to the hut and we go through the same ritual. Finally, I am allowed back into the vehicle and we drive on, until we reach the car park. I then leave the car and driver and walk towards the airport building. To get out of the car park I have to show my passport and ticket to another policeman who says, well you know what he says, don't you?
I then walk across from the car park to the terminal building where there are soldiers outside. I show them my passport and ticket, they look at my bags and thrust out a hand and say.....
Once I have passed them I go to the emigration desk where I have to pay 500Afs to leave the country. No problem, except for the soldier who is standing next to the office who thrusts out his hand and says....
Slowly we are making progress. To get to the check-in desk it is necessary to go through a security check of bags and persons which is carried out with the customary greeting and hand offering. At check-in there is a nice man who puts my bag on the check in scales to our now familiar and customary greeting. Having finally got rid of my bags I head for the departure gate. I will not bore with even yet more details, but suffice to say I passed two more police desks and finally got to passport control. This was manned by a gentleman that took so long over each passport that I timed him. (Yes I realise that is a bit sad, but I was getting a little irritated at this point). He took 7, yes seven, minutes to scrutinise my passport, tap his keyboard, wave my passport in front of some mysterious machine and finally stamp it and wave me through. However, things were about to rather significantly speed up!!
Even though the flight was due to leave at 7am and we did not leave until 7.50am. Ariana Afghan Airlines managed to get me to Istanbul 3 HOURS EARLY. This could be due to incredible high tail winds, a fantastic new super fast plane or simply that we were supposed to fly to Baku and Ankara on the way. But instead we went straight to Istanbul and cut out all that fiddling about. Suited me fine, but really upset the people who wanted to go to Baku and Ankara!! So I arrived 3 hours early. Meanwhile, Sarah travelling on intrepid, super reliable, worlds favourite airline, British Airways arrived 1 hour late!!! I note just a hint of irony in that.
Now, I may be 3 hours early and I can hear you cheer this small victory, but of course, it was not all plain sailing (or should that be plane flying!!)
The plane was a very early Airbus 300. Apparently it was given to Afghan Airlines by the Indian Government because Pakistan had given Afghanistan a fleet of buses and India did not want to be outdone!! I don't think anything had been fixed or cleaned on this plane for years, it was foul, but it flew, took off well, made a good landing and got me there and back, so I am happy, but you just knew there would be a story attached!!
I don't know whether it was the plane meal or something else, but within an hour of taking off I was heading for the toilet with, shall we say, loose bowels.
There is no toilet paper in the loo, the door does not lock and I am trying to hover over the toilet without any physical contact. Next thing I know there is banging on the door and shouting from outside from the crew. The smoke alarm has gone off for some reason and the crew think I am having a crafty smoke. So now, if you can imagine the scene, I am trying to hover above the seat and direct my loose bowel movements into the bowl, jam one foot against the door to stop it bursting open from the banging outside, hold my trousers up from falling onto the floor into the wet underfoot and tear up the cardboard centre of the remains of the toilet roll!! (Is this too much detail?). Anyway, to cut a long story to medium, the alarm stopped, the banging on the door stopped and something approaching sanity resumed.
On that note, I too shall resume tomorrow, with happy tales of Istanbul.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Ramadan, Eid and Beggars.
Where have you been?
You may well ask of your intrepid blogger who, frankly, has been leading such a boring life in Kabul that I ran out of things to say.
BUT, you wil be pleased to know I escaped the prison, sneaked off to Istanbul for a weekend and now, returned, sit before you revived, refreshed, half a stone lighter (I will come to that, but you are warned it is not pretty) and full to bursting point with old tat and nonsense. So, are you sitting comfortably?
First, I want to get out of my system to squash court situation. As you both know there is only one squash court in the whole of Kabul and this is the concrete walled and floored court at UNICA. Now, I realise that it could be argued that a bad squash court is better than no squash court, but this one has a floor as slippery as a icew rink on a slippery day AND membership s $60 per month. Even at $2 to the £1 that is £30 per month to play squash on an ice rink, PLUS $8 court fee. I ask you is that fair, is that reasonable, is that humanitarian, is that a UN rip off!! No wonder they have such huge expenses accounts, that is nearly half my monthly allowance.
Let us wind the clock back two weeks to the last week of Ramadan. Ramadan, I am sure you all know is the Moslem month of fasting from sunrise to sunset. At the end of Ramadan is the festival of Eid, which is similar to the Christian Christmas. Families get together, lots of food is eaten, presents are swapped and everyone is happy for 3 days. So, as Eid is a holiday I had arranged to meet Sarah in Istanbul, her flying in from London and me from Kabul. We had arranged flights so I arrived 1 hour before her at Istanbul International, but I am getting ahead of myself here.
The week before Eid, I went shopping in downtown Kabul with my trusty assistant Dr. Najeeb as guide and chief adviser on the cost of stuff. Anyway we went shopping to get a pressie for Sarah. Dr. N was so sweet, as he insisted on buying her a present as well. Anyway, I digress. As you can imagine there are a lot of beggars in Kabul, and as always some more deserving than others, so I checked with Dr. N and the going rate is 10-20 Afghanis is a reasonable contribution. (For comparison, bread is 3Afs so 20Afs represents nearly 7 pieces). This all went well, although begging is very aggressive. As I got back into the car a woman positioned herself in the door of the car, stopping me from closing the door until I paid up, so I gave her 20Afs. She looked at it, screwed her face up, shouted at me, tore it up and threw it on the floor in front of me. I closed the door and we drove off.
That evening was the end of Ramadan and the night bfore Eid. In Kabul, there are only 2 bars with alcohol. Many restaurants where you need to have a meal but only 2 bars where you can simply get a drink. Fortunately, one of them is about 500 yards away in the next street. Now, I have told you before about how dark it is and that the electricity goes off and anyway there are no street lights and there are high walls everywhere and it is very quiet on the streets and that we are supposed to travel everywhere in armoured cars and not walk anywhere for fear of kidnap and being shot/blown up. So when we walk round the corner to the bar it is quite an adventure, especially if a taxi slows down beside you to see if you need a ride and you cannot see if it is a taxi or a kidnapper. Anyway, it adds some spice to a very boring existance. The point of this story is that to celebrate Eid people let off firecrackers. Now this would be OK, except that it is very nerve wracking when you walk round the corner in the dark and people drop firecrackers from balconies above you so they go off right behind you. Curiously, Afghans seem to think it is funny!!There I got to the point in the end.
Well, I seem to have written quite a lot and not got to the excitement of the trip to Istanbul, so I will hold that back for you.
Will write again soon.
You may well ask of your intrepid blogger who, frankly, has been leading such a boring life in Kabul that I ran out of things to say.
BUT, you wil be pleased to know I escaped the prison, sneaked off to Istanbul for a weekend and now, returned, sit before you revived, refreshed, half a stone lighter (I will come to that, but you are warned it is not pretty) and full to bursting point with old tat and nonsense. So, are you sitting comfortably?
First, I want to get out of my system to squash court situation. As you both know there is only one squash court in the whole of Kabul and this is the concrete walled and floored court at UNICA. Now, I realise that it could be argued that a bad squash court is better than no squash court, but this one has a floor as slippery as a icew rink on a slippery day AND membership s $60 per month. Even at $2 to the £1 that is £30 per month to play squash on an ice rink, PLUS $8 court fee. I ask you is that fair, is that reasonable, is that humanitarian, is that a UN rip off!! No wonder they have such huge expenses accounts, that is nearly half my monthly allowance.
Let us wind the clock back two weeks to the last week of Ramadan. Ramadan, I am sure you all know is the Moslem month of fasting from sunrise to sunset. At the end of Ramadan is the festival of Eid, which is similar to the Christian Christmas. Families get together, lots of food is eaten, presents are swapped and everyone is happy for 3 days. So, as Eid is a holiday I had arranged to meet Sarah in Istanbul, her flying in from London and me from Kabul. We had arranged flights so I arrived 1 hour before her at Istanbul International, but I am getting ahead of myself here.
The week before Eid, I went shopping in downtown Kabul with my trusty assistant Dr. Najeeb as guide and chief adviser on the cost of stuff. Anyway we went shopping to get a pressie for Sarah. Dr. N was so sweet, as he insisted on buying her a present as well. Anyway, I digress. As you can imagine there are a lot of beggars in Kabul, and as always some more deserving than others, so I checked with Dr. N and the going rate is 10-20 Afghanis is a reasonable contribution. (For comparison, bread is 3Afs so 20Afs represents nearly 7 pieces). This all went well, although begging is very aggressive. As I got back into the car a woman positioned herself in the door of the car, stopping me from closing the door until I paid up, so I gave her 20Afs. She looked at it, screwed her face up, shouted at me, tore it up and threw it on the floor in front of me. I closed the door and we drove off.
That evening was the end of Ramadan and the night bfore Eid. In Kabul, there are only 2 bars with alcohol. Many restaurants where you need to have a meal but only 2 bars where you can simply get a drink. Fortunately, one of them is about 500 yards away in the next street. Now, I have told you before about how dark it is and that the electricity goes off and anyway there are no street lights and there are high walls everywhere and it is very quiet on the streets and that we are supposed to travel everywhere in armoured cars and not walk anywhere for fear of kidnap and being shot/blown up. So when we walk round the corner to the bar it is quite an adventure, especially if a taxi slows down beside you to see if you need a ride and you cannot see if it is a taxi or a kidnapper. Anyway, it adds some spice to a very boring existance. The point of this story is that to celebrate Eid people let off firecrackers. Now this would be OK, except that it is very nerve wracking when you walk round the corner in the dark and people drop firecrackers from balconies above you so they go off right behind you. Curiously, Afghans seem to think it is funny!!There I got to the point in the end.
Well, I seem to have written quite a lot and not got to the excitement of the trip to Istanbul, so I will hold that back for you.
Will write again soon.
Monday, October 01, 2007
I know you are desperate to know
You are, aren't you, go on admit it, you didn't sleep last night. You began to drift off then that niggling in the back of your mind started again and woke you up. Just as that soft, warm feeling of being enveloped by the quilt and you begin to sink into the mattress, just as the pillow softly hugs your head BANG!!! there it is again. Has the bloody embassy got a squash court on not.
Thanks for your solidarity dear reader, I am sorry I caused you so much worry leaving such an important thread hanging in the air. Well to put your mind at rest, the nice, polite man at the gate, he say No, we have no sports facilities. Now I am not sure I believe him, so I will try again. In the meantime you will also be saddened to know there are no Old Germans at the Old German Club as it has been turned into the Maple Leaf Inn, and no there is no squash court. So, we still have the concrete edifice that is UNICA.
There all is well in the world again and calm is resumed. Hope you sleep well tonight, I will.
Till the next time.
Thanks for your solidarity dear reader, I am sorry I caused you so much worry leaving such an important thread hanging in the air. Well to put your mind at rest, the nice, polite man at the gate, he say No, we have no sports facilities. Now I am not sure I believe him, so I will try again. In the meantime you will also be saddened to know there are no Old Germans at the Old German Club as it has been turned into the Maple Leaf Inn, and no there is no squash court. So, we still have the concrete edifice that is UNICA.
There all is well in the world again and calm is resumed. Hope you sleep well tonight, I will.
Till the next time.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
its been a week where is the blogger?
Yes,
I can hear the cries of anguish from across the ocean as my loyal band of reader logs in every day to find......nothing.
Now there is a very good reason for this, I may be in Kabul, I may be working for a mine clearing agency but..........accountancy is boring, wherever you are. In fact, I have made up a joke: What is the difference between accountancy in Canterbury and accountancy in Kabul.................one is comfortable and boring the other is uncomfortable and boring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK, it is not really a joke, but I am working on it.
SO what is occupying my mind currently on this Sunday morning. First, Friday our DAY OFF and this time I was not sick, so me and Nick (he is ex-UK army and is expert in bomb disposal) went to the ISAF HQ after breakfast. Those of you who are keeping up with the achromyms will know that ISAF is the International Security Assistance Force which is a cuddly name for the poor guys who are in places like Helmand fighting the Taleb. Anyway once we were through the inevitable security we went for a stroll around their encampment, had a nice cup of real coffee on the pizza bar terrace and then had a look around the shops. I bought the ultimate luxury of a bottle of mouthwash, but some of the items on sale were, to say the least unusual, including a vast array of large knives. Now, I realise none of you know Nick, but I am sure you all know a naughty boy who has to pick up and fiddle with anything that is in the shop, well that is Nick. Literally everything had to be handled. (Like a woman in a clothes shop, nothing can be passed without being touched!!!! ;-) )
To cut a long story to medium, in the end he bought a throwing knife. Oh yes, one last thing about ISAF, a sign that "tickled my fancy" Obviously there are a lot of people wandering around with guns etc. Outside the bar 'limit of one beer when carrying firearms' Now, how comforting is that!!!!!
So, back to the house where we are having an extension built. SO we set up a bag of cement on a pile of sand and practiced our circus knife throwing skills. He were complete pants, frequently not even hitting the pile of sand let alone the bag of cement. In the end there were three of us, managing roughly one hit in 10 throws. Curiously Rachel would not agree to hold a balloon in her teeth for us!!!!
It was a warm and sunny day, (Hot is now gone as we are heading towards the beginning of autumn). In fact, only 2 weeks ago I need the fan on the keep me cool to sleep, now I have a blanket on my bed. So a pleasant afternoon was rounded off, sitting in the garden reading a book.
To finish the day, our big, boss man from Scotland arrived and we headed out to a Thai restaurant for dinner where I had a very fine yellow vegetable curry with coconut.
That's almost all folks as Saturday was a work day. You all know by now my ritual of following the mighty addicks on the teletext on Saturday evening, but after that a bit if a result. I have a info sheet that says there are squash courts at; the British Embassy, the UNICA guest house, the Intercontinental hotel and the 'old German Club' so last night we went on an expedition. First up the intercontinental hotel - no courts, next the British Embassy where the following conversation took place - "are you British?" - "yes" - "I am sorry, sir but the embassy closes at 7, could you come back tomorrow" - "thank you, and if I was not British?" Puzzled look from security guard, but there is hope!! Next stop UNICA guest house, result they have a court, OK it is four yellow painted concrete walls with a beige painted concrete floor, but it looked like a squash court and felt like a squash court, therefore it IS a squash court. The bad news, there was a sign on the wall saying the Kabul squash championship was last weekend and cancelled due to a lack of entrants, IT COULD HAVE BEEN ME!!!!!!!!
I will search out the old German club tonight and return to the British Embassy before close tonight.
That's all folks!!!!
I can hear the cries of anguish from across the ocean as my loyal band of reader logs in every day to find......nothing.
Now there is a very good reason for this, I may be in Kabul, I may be working for a mine clearing agency but..........accountancy is boring, wherever you are. In fact, I have made up a joke: What is the difference between accountancy in Canterbury and accountancy in Kabul.................one is comfortable and boring the other is uncomfortable and boring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK, it is not really a joke, but I am working on it.
SO what is occupying my mind currently on this Sunday morning. First, Friday our DAY OFF and this time I was not sick, so me and Nick (he is ex-UK army and is expert in bomb disposal) went to the ISAF HQ after breakfast. Those of you who are keeping up with the achromyms will know that ISAF is the International Security Assistance Force which is a cuddly name for the poor guys who are in places like Helmand fighting the Taleb. Anyway once we were through the inevitable security we went for a stroll around their encampment, had a nice cup of real coffee on the pizza bar terrace and then had a look around the shops. I bought the ultimate luxury of a bottle of mouthwash, but some of the items on sale were, to say the least unusual, including a vast array of large knives. Now, I realise none of you know Nick, but I am sure you all know a naughty boy who has to pick up and fiddle with anything that is in the shop, well that is Nick. Literally everything had to be handled. (Like a woman in a clothes shop, nothing can be passed without being touched!!!! ;-) )
To cut a long story to medium, in the end he bought a throwing knife. Oh yes, one last thing about ISAF, a sign that "tickled my fancy" Obviously there are a lot of people wandering around with guns etc. Outside the bar 'limit of one beer when carrying firearms' Now, how comforting is that!!!!!
So, back to the house where we are having an extension built. SO we set up a bag of cement on a pile of sand and practiced our circus knife throwing skills. He were complete pants, frequently not even hitting the pile of sand let alone the bag of cement. In the end there were three of us, managing roughly one hit in 10 throws. Curiously Rachel would not agree to hold a balloon in her teeth for us!!!!
It was a warm and sunny day, (Hot is now gone as we are heading towards the beginning of autumn). In fact, only 2 weeks ago I need the fan on the keep me cool to sleep, now I have a blanket on my bed. So a pleasant afternoon was rounded off, sitting in the garden reading a book.
To finish the day, our big, boss man from Scotland arrived and we headed out to a Thai restaurant for dinner where I had a very fine yellow vegetable curry with coconut.
That's almost all folks as Saturday was a work day. You all know by now my ritual of following the mighty addicks on the teletext on Saturday evening, but after that a bit if a result. I have a info sheet that says there are squash courts at; the British Embassy, the UNICA guest house, the Intercontinental hotel and the 'old German Club' so last night we went on an expedition. First up the intercontinental hotel - no courts, next the British Embassy where the following conversation took place - "are you British?" - "yes" - "I am sorry, sir but the embassy closes at 7, could you come back tomorrow" - "thank you, and if I was not British?" Puzzled look from security guard, but there is hope!! Next stop UNICA guest house, result they have a court, OK it is four yellow painted concrete walls with a beige painted concrete floor, but it looked like a squash court and felt like a squash court, therefore it IS a squash court. The bad news, there was a sign on the wall saying the Kabul squash championship was last weekend and cancelled due to a lack of entrants, IT COULD HAVE BEEN ME!!!!!!!!
I will search out the old German club tonight and return to the British Embassy before close tonight.
That's all folks!!!!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
my tummy hurts!!!
Once again dear readers, I put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper to fill you in on the latest in downtown Kabul.
You have probably guessed from the title that your humble scribe and hero has been down with a bit of tummy trouble. As is always the case, or so it seems, on the one day off we get, I am a sick bunny. I will not indulge you with the details, but sufice to say I spent nearly all of Friday in bed. I was only brought round by a large bottle of coke to kill the bugs and a large bar of chocolate to give me the energy to bring back the "will to live".
So that makes today a Saturday and a work day. Off I went this morning and spent the day locked in my office with my team of finance assistants keeping the books and doing accounting sort of stuff. All I can say is "monty Python was spot on". Acountancy is boring, boring, boring. Tomorrow is the monthly programme meeting where we discuss where we are with the projects, donors etc. It is boring but I am looking forward to it because boring is a great improvement on boring, boring, boring.
While I am writing this I am switching to the BBC text service to follow on the "updated every 2 minutes" screen the progress of the mighty CAFC. We are 2-0 up against Leicester, but I remember last week we were 0-2 and drew 2-2 so anything can happen (particularly in the 2 minute gaps!!!) Now I have lost my thread.
What I set out to tell you was about Kabul. I thought I would try to describe it to you as best I can. Only the main roads are tarmaced, with all side streets being dirt tracks. Along the side of each street is a concrete gulley that is about a foot wide and deep. This is somewhere you should never go as most of the houses water waste feeds into this. I dont think the toilets do, but the baths/sinks etc appear to. Everywhere there is building going on with piles of cement, sand/dirt, bricks and rubble dumped all around. walking can be a bit hazardous.
The Afghans are big fans of walls. In the city every house is surrounded by a tall wall, or a wall of the house faces the street with no windows and runs into the wall of the house next door with just a mall doorway or a drive with a large, impeneterable gate. Even the villages are like little mud walled citadels with only a solid mud wall facing the outside world and a small alley between the houses.
The Afghans do not really venture out at night, and with no street lights the street are dark and gloomy. The odd car will go by and light up the way, but generally you have to tread very carefully to miss the holes, piles and gutters.
Well the game has finished with a 2-0 win, so I will quit whilst I am ahead. Take care. "I'll be back".
You have probably guessed from the title that your humble scribe and hero has been down with a bit of tummy trouble. As is always the case, or so it seems, on the one day off we get, I am a sick bunny. I will not indulge you with the details, but sufice to say I spent nearly all of Friday in bed. I was only brought round by a large bottle of coke to kill the bugs and a large bar of chocolate to give me the energy to bring back the "will to live".
So that makes today a Saturday and a work day. Off I went this morning and spent the day locked in my office with my team of finance assistants keeping the books and doing accounting sort of stuff. All I can say is "monty Python was spot on". Acountancy is boring, boring, boring. Tomorrow is the monthly programme meeting where we discuss where we are with the projects, donors etc. It is boring but I am looking forward to it because boring is a great improvement on boring, boring, boring.
While I am writing this I am switching to the BBC text service to follow on the "updated every 2 minutes" screen the progress of the mighty CAFC. We are 2-0 up against Leicester, but I remember last week we were 0-2 and drew 2-2 so anything can happen (particularly in the 2 minute gaps!!!) Now I have lost my thread.
What I set out to tell you was about Kabul. I thought I would try to describe it to you as best I can. Only the main roads are tarmaced, with all side streets being dirt tracks. Along the side of each street is a concrete gulley that is about a foot wide and deep. This is somewhere you should never go as most of the houses water waste feeds into this. I dont think the toilets do, but the baths/sinks etc appear to. Everywhere there is building going on with piles of cement, sand/dirt, bricks and rubble dumped all around. walking can be a bit hazardous.
The Afghans are big fans of walls. In the city every house is surrounded by a tall wall, or a wall of the house faces the street with no windows and runs into the wall of the house next door with just a mall doorway or a drive with a large, impeneterable gate. Even the villages are like little mud walled citadels with only a solid mud wall facing the outside world and a small alley between the houses.
The Afghans do not really venture out at night, and with no street lights the street are dark and gloomy. The odd car will go by and light up the way, but generally you have to tread very carefully to miss the holes, piles and gutters.
Well the game has finished with a 2-0 win, so I will quit whilst I am ahead. Take care. "I'll be back".
Sunday, September 16, 2007
veggie heaven
Hello again my faithful congregation, I trust you are all well and the sun is shining in your world, wherever it may be.
As you can see from the title and the first line your humble scribe and soothsayer is in a good mood this hot, sweaty and frankly, smelly evening (I need a shower).
Yesterday, I regaled you with the workings of the household and extolled the virtues of the cook who had created a delightful soup and veggie bake. This evening after another hard days graft (6am to 5pm) and fasting, I come home, open the fridge and lo; ALL the dishes are veggie. Now this has gone down a storm with yours truly, but my carnivorous buddies are slightly on the down side of underwhelmed. We have veggie soup, veggie pizza, veggie lasagne and salad. Oh joy, Oh joy, there is a GOD!!!. (Sorry God, I am sure you have more important thing to worry about than our fridge).
Talking of more important things, how about that trip to a minefield you promised us days ago, I hear you cry (you see, I am even hearing voices now!!!). So I shall continue, for those who are keeping up, you will remember I described the village in "A Week In The Life" so I wil not bore you again. We drove out to the village along a track. When I say track I simply mean that in the past people had picked a route across the ground avoiding the biggest lumps, bumps and dips. In was a very uncomfortable journey in a 4 ton land rover. It was during this jpourney we were discussing what a great mountain bike route it would make (Full suspension, obviously), more fun, more comfortable and probably quite a bit quicker. Anyway, I digress. A minefield is a piece of land that is suspected (with good reason) of having landmines. The areas mined are usualy known to the local people as they saw them laid and they have lost people and livestock, so they generally will know the areas to check. This may mean a single or double row of mines are somewhere in a field or across a gulley or round a hilltop where there was a gun post, but no-one is sure so everyone stays away and field does not get ploughed, the shepherd cannot take his flock on the hill etc. The minefield is a weird place. The deminers work on their knees with a metal detector and inch forward in a 1 metre wide corridor. As soon as they detect metal they have to go back 10cms and then dig down. Once down to 15cms they then begin to dig slowly forward to come to the mine from the side. If you touch the top in any way, it will explode. Once they have uncovered the side of the mine, it is identified then destroyed in situ. Usually the metal detector reading will just be a piece of metal, or an old bullet etc, but sometimes! While we were there for just about 2 hours, 5 mines were found and exploded all within 500 yards of the houses . In the background you could hear the children playing in the school, soon they will be able to play in the fields around their homes. The minefield is marked by stones painted half red and half white, NEVER walk on the red side of the stones, this is uncleared. Wherever a mine is found a green stone is put in the place it was found to show where the mines were laid and tr to establish a pattern.
So to try to put it into a Western context this is what happens. Our country is invaded and the town we live in is the front line of a battle. We leave and head to family and friends somewhere else in the country. Eventually after 3 or 4 years we come home. The people in our street who stayed through it tell us that our street was a front line and mines were laid. We know we can walk alng the path into our front door, but can we go in the garden, can we cut the grass, can we deviate of any path that has not been trodden by someone else. Where can I take the dog for a walk. What about the park, or around the pond. Then you hear someone has been blown up in the next street even though "peace" has apparently come. This is how the Afghans have lived now since the fall of the Taleban. Many of the mines date back to the Soviet invasion in the 1980's. Thats a long time to live in fear of the very ground you walk on.
Might sneak downstairs for another look at the goodies in the fridge, Oh joy.
Take care.
As you can see from the title and the first line your humble scribe and soothsayer is in a good mood this hot, sweaty and frankly, smelly evening (I need a shower).
Yesterday, I regaled you with the workings of the household and extolled the virtues of the cook who had created a delightful soup and veggie bake. This evening after another hard days graft (6am to 5pm) and fasting, I come home, open the fridge and lo; ALL the dishes are veggie. Now this has gone down a storm with yours truly, but my carnivorous buddies are slightly on the down side of underwhelmed. We have veggie soup, veggie pizza, veggie lasagne and salad. Oh joy, Oh joy, there is a GOD!!!. (Sorry God, I am sure you have more important thing to worry about than our fridge).
Talking of more important things, how about that trip to a minefield you promised us days ago, I hear you cry (you see, I am even hearing voices now!!!). So I shall continue, for those who are keeping up, you will remember I described the village in "A Week In The Life" so I wil not bore you again. We drove out to the village along a track. When I say track I simply mean that in the past people had picked a route across the ground avoiding the biggest lumps, bumps and dips. In was a very uncomfortable journey in a 4 ton land rover. It was during this jpourney we were discussing what a great mountain bike route it would make (Full suspension, obviously), more fun, more comfortable and probably quite a bit quicker. Anyway, I digress. A minefield is a piece of land that is suspected (with good reason) of having landmines. The areas mined are usualy known to the local people as they saw them laid and they have lost people and livestock, so they generally will know the areas to check. This may mean a single or double row of mines are somewhere in a field or across a gulley or round a hilltop where there was a gun post, but no-one is sure so everyone stays away and field does not get ploughed, the shepherd cannot take his flock on the hill etc. The minefield is a weird place. The deminers work on their knees with a metal detector and inch forward in a 1 metre wide corridor. As soon as they detect metal they have to go back 10cms and then dig down. Once down to 15cms they then begin to dig slowly forward to come to the mine from the side. If you touch the top in any way, it will explode. Once they have uncovered the side of the mine, it is identified then destroyed in situ. Usually the metal detector reading will just be a piece of metal, or an old bullet etc, but sometimes! While we were there for just about 2 hours, 5 mines were found and exploded all within 500 yards of the houses . In the background you could hear the children playing in the school, soon they will be able to play in the fields around their homes. The minefield is marked by stones painted half red and half white, NEVER walk on the red side of the stones, this is uncleared. Wherever a mine is found a green stone is put in the place it was found to show where the mines were laid and tr to establish a pattern.
So to try to put it into a Western context this is what happens. Our country is invaded and the town we live in is the front line of a battle. We leave and head to family and friends somewhere else in the country. Eventually after 3 or 4 years we come home. The people in our street who stayed through it tell us that our street was a front line and mines were laid. We know we can walk alng the path into our front door, but can we go in the garden, can we cut the grass, can we deviate of any path that has not been trodden by someone else. Where can I take the dog for a walk. What about the park, or around the pond. Then you hear someone has been blown up in the next street even though "peace" has apparently come. This is how the Afghans have lived now since the fall of the Taleban. Many of the mines date back to the Soviet invasion in the 1980's. Thats a long time to live in fear of the very ground you walk on.
Might sneak downstairs for another look at the goodies in the fridge, Oh joy.
Take care.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
2-2
2-2 away to Colchester, the mighty reds just can't stop..............crawling slowly up the table.
I have just read through my last posting and the spelling is awful, I am sure there is something wrong with this keyboard!
Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you it was the third day of Ramadan today and the first workday, so I thought I would see how it felt, so I had nothing to eat or drink all day until we got home this evening and the sun had gone down, then I guzzled a cold can of 7Up with great relish. Made another fine dinner of soup and the veggie dish.
What a segway, I could have been a DJ, the way I subtly lured you into my veggie story.Let me explain the eating arrangements here in the house, in fact let me explain the house. We have 4 bedrooms and 2 bathroms in the house, 3 beds and a bath upstairs and then downstairs we have 1 bed, 1 bath, 1 lounge, a kitchen and a dining room. Rachel has the room and bathroom downstairs, three of us healthy lads are upstairs and then there are two more men in the bedrooms in the garden annexe. We are also building two more rooms in the garden for extra guests. Did I tell you one of the guys in the annexe stepped on a scorpion in his room the other night, lucky he had his slippers on. You see, all you tough guys out there, slippers can save your life!!
We have a big fridge and a cook comes in every other day, cooks meals and leaves them in the fridge and we can help ourselves. However, the only thing non meat in the fridge for the first week was salad and chocolate, so I became a bit of a salad fiend, (might have eaten a square or two of choccie as well) but this week we have had a rather yummy soup which I can only describe as Spicy Parsnip and a baked veggie dish, all rather yummy after a long days fasting. Not sure if I can keep this up, but I will give it a go.
Finally, we come to the minefields, oh and a discussion on why mountain bikes are much more fun than land rovers, so we shall have to visit that next time. To all those in The Row, hope all is well and village life goes on as normal. You know, I wish I had a picture of our water pump. None of the Afghans here believe we get our water from a water pump in the back garden. I may have missed the small detail of the piped water as well, but hey, why should facts get in the way of a good story!!! What I need is a picture of Jill filing her bucket, now that would get them all thinking!!!!!!
Have I told you that when I go to the ISAF HQ (they have the sexy cash machine), my guard has to wait outside in the street. I mean how unfair is that, we are slightly outgunned if we picked a fight!!!!
I defy anyone to find a spelling mitsake in this episode.
I think next time we should discuss "So what is humanitarian about Mine Action" Thats what we call it by the way, HMA, Humanitarian Mine Action.
BFN
I have just read through my last posting and the spelling is awful, I am sure there is something wrong with this keyboard!
Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you it was the third day of Ramadan today and the first workday, so I thought I would see how it felt, so I had nothing to eat or drink all day until we got home this evening and the sun had gone down, then I guzzled a cold can of 7Up with great relish. Made another fine dinner of soup and the veggie dish.
What a segway, I could have been a DJ, the way I subtly lured you into my veggie story.Let me explain the eating arrangements here in the house, in fact let me explain the house. We have 4 bedrooms and 2 bathroms in the house, 3 beds and a bath upstairs and then downstairs we have 1 bed, 1 bath, 1 lounge, a kitchen and a dining room. Rachel has the room and bathroom downstairs, three of us healthy lads are upstairs and then there are two more men in the bedrooms in the garden annexe. We are also building two more rooms in the garden for extra guests. Did I tell you one of the guys in the annexe stepped on a scorpion in his room the other night, lucky he had his slippers on. You see, all you tough guys out there, slippers can save your life!!
We have a big fridge and a cook comes in every other day, cooks meals and leaves them in the fridge and we can help ourselves. However, the only thing non meat in the fridge for the first week was salad and chocolate, so I became a bit of a salad fiend, (might have eaten a square or two of choccie as well) but this week we have had a rather yummy soup which I can only describe as Spicy Parsnip and a baked veggie dish, all rather yummy after a long days fasting. Not sure if I can keep this up, but I will give it a go.
Finally, we come to the minefields, oh and a discussion on why mountain bikes are much more fun than land rovers, so we shall have to visit that next time. To all those in The Row, hope all is well and village life goes on as normal. You know, I wish I had a picture of our water pump. None of the Afghans here believe we get our water from a water pump in the back garden. I may have missed the small detail of the piped water as well, but hey, why should facts get in the way of a good story!!! What I need is a picture of Jill filing her bucket, now that would get them all thinking!!!!!!
Have I told you that when I go to the ISAF HQ (they have the sexy cash machine), my guard has to wait outside in the street. I mean how unfair is that, we are slightly outgunned if we picked a fight!!!!
I defy anyone to find a spelling mitsake in this episode.
I think next time we should discuss "So what is humanitarian about Mine Action" Thats what we call it by the way, HMA, Humanitarian Mine Action.
BFN
teletext
Hello again dear reader,
Well it is Saturday evening or afternoon to those of you in the UK and I am sitting here trying to folow the antics of the mighty Reds (thats Charlton for the uninitiated) and it is proving very frustratng. Radio 5 Live and Radio London both tell me they cannot broadcast the current programme ie Sportreports outside the UK so I am left watching teletext Hang on I will switch over and see how we are doing. We were losing 1-2 when I last looked. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah, Zeng Zhi,Our plucky little Chineseman has just equalised, oh joy, oh joy, loks like we are at least as good as the incredibly fantastic Colchester!!!! I a sure we will come back to this before the end of this update. I think I shall become Kabul Addick!!
Anyway, where was I, minefields Ice cream men and veggies, oh yes and my new room.
Yesterday afternoon, I went for a stroll around the local streets to see what happens at the weekend. It was very quiet indeed, but there were little groups of children al flying kites in the street. Just made out of some plastic or paper and a wooden frame. I stayed and watched for a while, very serene, very peaceful and a joy to watch. While I was idling away my time a man came by puling a cart with onions and potatoes on it and people would come out there houses and buy from him, then another man came along pulling a cart with firewood. But then the "piece de resistance" a mancame by selling ice cream. Now those of you "of a certain age" will remember on a Sunday afternoon when the ice cream van would come round and play a tune in the street and we children would run out to get an ice cream for pudding for Sunday lunch. (This was before everyone had a freezer and ice cream was a real once a week treat). Well that is exactly what happened yesteray, picture the scene, some small children playing with tehir kites in the middle of the street andthe ice cream man comes along puling the ice cream cart playing a tune as he goes by. He stops and then, like the pied piper doors all along the street open and children come running out. I picture straight from my childhood, obviously except for the dust and the man pulling a cart instead of driving a van!
Also yesterday afternoon I moved into my own room and I have to say it was good to finally get unpacked and setled in. I have been sharing Rachels room so far (OK, she is in Scotland!!!!) My new room is very spacious and even has a set of speakers to plug into my PC to listen to music on, so I am happy with al these developments. I overlok the street outside and peek out from behind the curtains and watch the goings on. They are building a new house up the road and a pile of bricks has beend umped in the street. i was watching one man stand at the bottom of the pile throw the bricks to a man standing on the top of the pile who then throws them one at a time to a man standing on the first floor who is piling them up.
Right, we still have minefields and veggie food to cover, dont hold your breath, I wil get round to it.
Take care.
Well it is Saturday evening or afternoon to those of you in the UK and I am sitting here trying to folow the antics of the mighty Reds (thats Charlton for the uninitiated) and it is proving very frustratng. Radio 5 Live and Radio London both tell me they cannot broadcast the current programme ie Sportreports outside the UK so I am left watching teletext Hang on I will switch over and see how we are doing. We were losing 1-2 when I last looked. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah, Zeng Zhi,Our plucky little Chineseman has just equalised, oh joy, oh joy, loks like we are at least as good as the incredibly fantastic Colchester!!!! I a sure we will come back to this before the end of this update. I think I shall become Kabul Addick!!
Anyway, where was I, minefields Ice cream men and veggies, oh yes and my new room.
Yesterday afternoon, I went for a stroll around the local streets to see what happens at the weekend. It was very quiet indeed, but there were little groups of children al flying kites in the street. Just made out of some plastic or paper and a wooden frame. I stayed and watched for a while, very serene, very peaceful and a joy to watch. While I was idling away my time a man came by puling a cart with onions and potatoes on it and people would come out there houses and buy from him, then another man came along pulling a cart with firewood. But then the "piece de resistance" a mancame by selling ice cream. Now those of you "of a certain age" will remember on a Sunday afternoon when the ice cream van would come round and play a tune in the street and we children would run out to get an ice cream for pudding for Sunday lunch. (This was before everyone had a freezer and ice cream was a real once a week treat). Well that is exactly what happened yesteray, picture the scene, some small children playing with tehir kites in the middle of the street andthe ice cream man comes along puling the ice cream cart playing a tune as he goes by. He stops and then, like the pied piper doors all along the street open and children come running out. I picture straight from my childhood, obviously except for the dust and the man pulling a cart instead of driving a van!
Also yesterday afternoon I moved into my own room and I have to say it was good to finally get unpacked and setled in. I have been sharing Rachels room so far (OK, she is in Scotland!!!!) My new room is very spacious and even has a set of speakers to plug into my PC to listen to music on, so I am happy with al these developments. I overlok the street outside and peek out from behind the curtains and watch the goings on. They are building a new house up the road and a pile of bricks has beend umped in the street. i was watching one man stand at the bottom of the pile throw the bricks to a man standing on the top of the pile who then throws them one at a time to a man standing on the first floor who is piling them up.
Right, we still have minefields and veggie food to cover, dont hold your breath, I wil get round to it.
Take care.
Friday, September 14, 2007
A week in the life!
Hello reader, one and all, how are you?
It has been a couple of days since I last regaled you with tales of not much derring-do so I was just listing a few topics to cover in this latest musing from downtown Kabul. So what have we:
The anniversary of 9/11, My bank card ignoring me, The uncertain start of Ramadan, A walk around the locality, The ice cream man, Visiting a real minefield (yes really full on landmines), moving to my new "permanent room", finally convincing the cook that a vegetarian does not eat meat, I think that covers it, and here was me thinking nothing had happened. You are beginning to see how small my world has become.
So let us start at the beginning. The 6th anniversary of 9/11 was not unlike any other day, except the road our office is situated on is called by some "suicide alley" as most of the suicide attacks in Kabul take place here. I hasten to add not where we are but are aimed at the ISAF (International Security Assistance Force - the Coalition) base down the road. This does not affect us, but would interfere with the drive to or from the office if the attack happened when we are passing by. However, our vehicles would not be affected and the only fatalities are, as always, innocent passing civilians. Anyway, we thought the Taleban may "celebrate" the anniversary with an attack, but this did not happen, which I think again emphasises they have little support in Kabul and outside their "stronghold" in the south and along the eastern border. Sorry, political lecture over.
On Wednesday, I went to the bank machine to get some cash, something we all take for granted. The machine here was rather wizzy and even asked if I wanted Euros or Dollars, so I asked it for $600. Sorry, no can do came the reply. How about $500 then, sorry no can do. I worked my way down to a measly $50 (£25 in proper money) and still the machine refusd my advances. So there was nothing to do but contact the bank. Of course as with all UK banks they have a truly helpful 0845 type number which, of course you cannot dial from abroad, so with some monumental help from Sarah, I eventually got the number of my branch and rang the manager. The conversation went something along the lines of
PQ: I am in Afghanistan, so please can we sort this quickly
BM: Where?
PQ: Afghanistan, Kabul actually
BM: Oh!
PQ: I tried to use my bank card yesterday and it did not work
BM: (laughs) In Kabul?
PQ: Yes, in Kabul
BM: Well, of course not our fraud department would halt any transaction in Afghanistan
PQ: Can you tell them not to
BM: Yes
PQ: How long will it take
BM: About 15 minutes, are you really in Kabul?
PQ: Yes
BM: What are you doing there?
PQ: Clearing land mines, must go, thanks.
BM: OK, bye
Now,where were we, oh yes, its now Thursday (in blog terms) and Afghanistan has been gripped in uncertainty for the past 24hours. You see Ramadan, the month of fasting, is linked to the phases of the moon. Now the phases of the moon have been predicted and known in advance for millennia, in fact, it was probably Arab scholars in the year dotdot that wrote them down for the first time. However, although any decent diary from Smiths would have the information in it and most of the Arab world has a fixed start date and knew Ramadan would start on Thursday, here in Afghanistan they were not sure and were waiting for the word from Mecca that the moon had been spotted and Ramadan would start on Wednesday, so, apparently there were frenzied did it, didn't it phone calls all through Tuesday night and consequently a lot of tired people at work on Wednesday. And of course it began Wednesday night, which conveniently brings me to my activities on Thursday. This was a day off as the first day of Ramadan and there would be no-one in the office, so I took the opportunity to go to a real, genuine, 100%, actaul minefield and see mine clearance in action. We went to a village in the valley south of Bagram airbase (yes the notorious Bagram airbase). The vilage itself was fantastic. It is situated in a valley below mountains and has a strong stream running through it from the mountains. It makes the area where the village is quite lush and the mud houses are surrounded by vineyards, orchards and fields. Well, it is surrounded by these where the mines have been cleared. The minefields are really interesting and I think I shal explain that another day as this entry is getting rather long.
In fact I wil cover that with the ice cream man, my new room and veggies later. Take care.
BFN
It has been a couple of days since I last regaled you with tales of not much derring-do so I was just listing a few topics to cover in this latest musing from downtown Kabul. So what have we:
The anniversary of 9/11, My bank card ignoring me, The uncertain start of Ramadan, A walk around the locality, The ice cream man, Visiting a real minefield (yes really full on landmines), moving to my new "permanent room", finally convincing the cook that a vegetarian does not eat meat, I think that covers it, and here was me thinking nothing had happened. You are beginning to see how small my world has become.
So let us start at the beginning. The 6th anniversary of 9/11 was not unlike any other day, except the road our office is situated on is called by some "suicide alley" as most of the suicide attacks in Kabul take place here. I hasten to add not where we are but are aimed at the ISAF (International Security Assistance Force - the Coalition) base down the road. This does not affect us, but would interfere with the drive to or from the office if the attack happened when we are passing by. However, our vehicles would not be affected and the only fatalities are, as always, innocent passing civilians. Anyway, we thought the Taleban may "celebrate" the anniversary with an attack, but this did not happen, which I think again emphasises they have little support in Kabul and outside their "stronghold" in the south and along the eastern border. Sorry, political lecture over.
On Wednesday, I went to the bank machine to get some cash, something we all take for granted. The machine here was rather wizzy and even asked if I wanted Euros or Dollars, so I asked it for $600. Sorry, no can do came the reply. How about $500 then, sorry no can do. I worked my way down to a measly $50 (£25 in proper money) and still the machine refusd my advances. So there was nothing to do but contact the bank. Of course as with all UK banks they have a truly helpful 0845 type number which, of course you cannot dial from abroad, so with some monumental help from Sarah, I eventually got the number of my branch and rang the manager. The conversation went something along the lines of
PQ: I am in Afghanistan, so please can we sort this quickly
BM: Where?
PQ: Afghanistan, Kabul actually
BM: Oh!
PQ: I tried to use my bank card yesterday and it did not work
BM: (laughs) In Kabul?
PQ: Yes, in Kabul
BM: Well, of course not our fraud department would halt any transaction in Afghanistan
PQ: Can you tell them not to
BM: Yes
PQ: How long will it take
BM: About 15 minutes, are you really in Kabul?
PQ: Yes
BM: What are you doing there?
PQ: Clearing land mines, must go, thanks.
BM: OK, bye
Now,where were we, oh yes, its now Thursday (in blog terms) and Afghanistan has been gripped in uncertainty for the past 24hours. You see Ramadan, the month of fasting, is linked to the phases of the moon. Now the phases of the moon have been predicted and known in advance for millennia, in fact, it was probably Arab scholars in the year dotdot that wrote them down for the first time. However, although any decent diary from Smiths would have the information in it and most of the Arab world has a fixed start date and knew Ramadan would start on Thursday, here in Afghanistan they were not sure and were waiting for the word from Mecca that the moon had been spotted and Ramadan would start on Wednesday, so, apparently there were frenzied did it, didn't it phone calls all through Tuesday night and consequently a lot of tired people at work on Wednesday. And of course it began Wednesday night, which conveniently brings me to my activities on Thursday. This was a day off as the first day of Ramadan and there would be no-one in the office, so I took the opportunity to go to a real, genuine, 100%, actaul minefield and see mine clearance in action. We went to a village in the valley south of Bagram airbase (yes the notorious Bagram airbase). The vilage itself was fantastic. It is situated in a valley below mountains and has a strong stream running through it from the mountains. It makes the area where the village is quite lush and the mud houses are surrounded by vineyards, orchards and fields. Well, it is surrounded by these where the mines have been cleared. The minefields are really interesting and I think I shal explain that another day as this entry is getting rather long.
In fact I wil cover that with the ice cream man, my new room and veggies later. Take care.
BFN
Monday, September 10, 2007
How was your weekend?
Well dear reader, Yes Jiminy Crippet that appears to be you!!!
First, I will start with an apology, the internet connection here is pretty dire and although I have read the instructions and am now an expert on uploading photos to my blog, the connection here simply sees the piccy, rolls over on its back, puts all four legs in the air and plays dead so I am afraid you wil have to make do with the vivid pictures I paint with my expresive prose!!!
Now, where was I, oh yes, your weekend, you see we work Saturday and Sunday so it is not much of a weekend. However, Saturday was sort of interesting. I got back to the fortress we colloquially call a "guest" house, I turned on the tely and what is on some South African sport channel, the England/India 7th ODI, which India respectfuly threw away with only 2 minutes of the England/Israel footie played allowing us to watch that as well. This was followed by a game from the Rugger World Cup, so a bit of a sporty evening, sitting on my bum. This is something I am getting very used to (the sitting on my bum bit as getting out and about is prety difficult). I am beginning to wonder if my organisation is not a bit too protective, and will start talking to others about geting into some sort of sports.
Talking of TV we got back this evening to find we now have a satellite link with 758 channels. Unfortunately, it seems to be pointing at some Arabic satellite and we have 758 totally incomprehensible channels (sighs all round).
However, if you have read this drivvle all the way to this point I will reward you with a story of derring-do which the lightweights wil miss as they will have switched off after all that boring stuff about TVs.
Yesterday, I went out into the field to look at some potential new mine clearing areas. Of course, I had a cover story, as the acountant I am concerned that we are spending too much on gas for water heating at the demining camps and we have put in a solar panel on trial at one camp to see if we can cut costs (sound familiar!!!) so I was gaining information on the solar panel trial - honest, Guv.
Anyway the crux of the story is, other than travelling around the stark countryside north of Kabul I can hardly call it beautiful. Kabul sits on a wide plain at 1800m between two rows of mountains, which in itself is beautiful, but it is all very bare and barren.
We travelled north up the valley to the nearest demining camp where the de-miners live and work for their work period during the month. It is a tent compound built around an old building that is used as the office. This building is full of holes from the wars. I am waffling again.
We were going round looking at places that had been identified as needing clearance by the local population. One family were rebuilding their house and had replanted their vineyard. The house was on land the Soviets had taken to build a barracks which is now destroyed, but right along the edge of the house, no more than 20yards away is the remains of the wall of the compound with a slope up to it.
The slope has not been touched or cultivated as 3 people have had acidents on this slope since the refugees returned and been blown up by land mines. So no-one goes near, but everyone is afraid their children or animals may stray and that they can't grow anything on this land. So we are looking to make this a priority for the next block of clearance. Thats how clearing landmines makes a real difference to the lives of real people. So on that note, take care, I'll be back.
First, I will start with an apology, the internet connection here is pretty dire and although I have read the instructions and am now an expert on uploading photos to my blog, the connection here simply sees the piccy, rolls over on its back, puts all four legs in the air and plays dead so I am afraid you wil have to make do with the vivid pictures I paint with my expresive prose!!!
Now, where was I, oh yes, your weekend, you see we work Saturday and Sunday so it is not much of a weekend. However, Saturday was sort of interesting. I got back to the fortress we colloquially call a "guest" house, I turned on the tely and what is on some South African sport channel, the England/India 7th ODI, which India respectfuly threw away with only 2 minutes of the England/Israel footie played allowing us to watch that as well. This was followed by a game from the Rugger World Cup, so a bit of a sporty evening, sitting on my bum. This is something I am getting very used to (the sitting on my bum bit as getting out and about is prety difficult). I am beginning to wonder if my organisation is not a bit too protective, and will start talking to others about geting into some sort of sports.
Talking of TV we got back this evening to find we now have a satellite link with 758 channels. Unfortunately, it seems to be pointing at some Arabic satellite and we have 758 totally incomprehensible channels (sighs all round).
However, if you have read this drivvle all the way to this point I will reward you with a story of derring-do which the lightweights wil miss as they will have switched off after all that boring stuff about TVs.
Yesterday, I went out into the field to look at some potential new mine clearing areas. Of course, I had a cover story, as the acountant I am concerned that we are spending too much on gas for water heating at the demining camps and we have put in a solar panel on trial at one camp to see if we can cut costs (sound familiar!!!) so I was gaining information on the solar panel trial - honest, Guv.
Anyway the crux of the story is, other than travelling around the stark countryside north of Kabul I can hardly call it beautiful. Kabul sits on a wide plain at 1800m between two rows of mountains, which in itself is beautiful, but it is all very bare and barren.
We travelled north up the valley to the nearest demining camp where the de-miners live and work for their work period during the month. It is a tent compound built around an old building that is used as the office. This building is full of holes from the wars. I am waffling again.
We were going round looking at places that had been identified as needing clearance by the local population. One family were rebuilding their house and had replanted their vineyard. The house was on land the Soviets had taken to build a barracks which is now destroyed, but right along the edge of the house, no more than 20yards away is the remains of the wall of the compound with a slope up to it.
The slope has not been touched or cultivated as 3 people have had acidents on this slope since the refugees returned and been blown up by land mines. So no-one goes near, but everyone is afraid their children or animals may stray and that they can't grow anything on this land. So we are looking to make this a priority for the next block of clearance. Thats how clearing landmines makes a real difference to the lives of real people. So on that note, take care, I'll be back.
Friday, September 07, 2007
A day off
So dear reader, it is Friday, which is our day off. Have to say it is a bit if a let down as there is nothing to do and nowhere to go!!!
Last night we walked round the corner to a charming international restaurant. When I say charming, obviously that means high fences, barbed wire and armed guards, but once inside there is a lovely courtyard with music, food and drink. We didn't eat but had a bottle of Corona and spent the evening chatting. I got to know my colleagues, one is ex-Eton and ex UK mlitary, whilst the other is ex-KLA (Kosovan Liberation Army). So here is my first handy tip for all those looking for a seaside retreat, buy a property on the coast in Albania, it is a beuatiful coastline and much cheaper than Crotia, Greece etc. You see poor Brit abroad, when denied the opportunity to talk about the weather (it is just hot every day) will fall back on our 2nd favourite topic, house prices. It was just like a dinner party in Surbiton, well, obviously exluding the aforementioned security.
This morning, I woke up at a leasurely pace and found we had no electricity or running water so that started the day well. It thwarted by desire for the proverbial shit, shower and shave or even a cup of tea. It turns out the power is often off during the day (but we are at work so it doesn't bother us) and the solution is to turn on the generator. It was 2 hours before anyone else got up and told me this!!!!!!
I have taken a photo of our street, so I wil read the instructions and try to post this on the next blog. As you all enjoy your wekend, think off me, we work Saturday and Sunday. Ha ha, done it, the piccie should be on this post!!
Be good.
Last night we walked round the corner to a charming international restaurant. When I say charming, obviously that means high fences, barbed wire and armed guards, but once inside there is a lovely courtyard with music, food and drink. We didn't eat but had a bottle of Corona and spent the evening chatting. I got to know my colleagues, one is ex-Eton and ex UK mlitary, whilst the other is ex-KLA (Kosovan Liberation Army). So here is my first handy tip for all those looking for a seaside retreat, buy a property on the coast in Albania, it is a beuatiful coastline and much cheaper than Crotia, Greece etc. You see poor Brit abroad, when denied the opportunity to talk about the weather (it is just hot every day) will fall back on our 2nd favourite topic, house prices. It was just like a dinner party in Surbiton, well, obviously exluding the aforementioned security.
This morning, I woke up at a leasurely pace and found we had no electricity or running water so that started the day well. It thwarted by desire for the proverbial shit, shower and shave or even a cup of tea. It turns out the power is often off during the day (but we are at work so it doesn't bother us) and the solution is to turn on the generator. It was 2 hours before anyone else got up and told me this!!!!!!
I have taken a photo of our street, so I wil read the instructions and try to post this on the next blog. As you all enjoy your wekend, think off me, we work Saturday and Sunday. Ha ha, done it, the piccie should be on this post!!
Be good.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
At last, a new job!
Well hello again dear reader.
It has been a while but thanks to my wee lassie, Rachel, I finally have a new job. I am now working for a de-mining organisation in Kabul.
I only arrived yesterday, so not a great deal to report except for: anyone who has read Charles Dickens "A tale of two cities", I think wil remember the first two pages are incredibly boring with endless references to the fog. Well, substitute dust for fog and that is my first impresion of Kabul. It is very hot at the moment and it has not rained for a while. Last night on the way from our compund to the guest house our driver had to stop frequently as we could not se through the dust. Mind you, we were following a convoy of vehicles along a dirt track which did not help, but it is my first abiding memory.
Unfortunately the journey from house to office takes us past many of the army, UN and many others compounds. These are great big square edifices with very high concrete walls all the way round and topped with heavy barbed wire. They are just there, surrounded by empty space. It is like a scene from some weird "Mad Max" movie and is very ugly and depressing. BUT, I am told and believe there are some beautiful areas of Kabul, and the rural areas are especially beautiful. I can't wait to get out of the city and visit some of the camps where we are clearing mines.
Frst though I have to learn my job in the office and I shall be nailed to a desk and chair for a while trying to cram as much learning in as posible.
I think that wil do for starters after a 2 year break. Cant get you too excited just yet.
Take care.
It has been a while but thanks to my wee lassie, Rachel, I finally have a new job. I am now working for a de-mining organisation in Kabul.
I only arrived yesterday, so not a great deal to report except for: anyone who has read Charles Dickens "A tale of two cities", I think wil remember the first two pages are incredibly boring with endless references to the fog. Well, substitute dust for fog and that is my first impresion of Kabul. It is very hot at the moment and it has not rained for a while. Last night on the way from our compund to the guest house our driver had to stop frequently as we could not se through the dust. Mind you, we were following a convoy of vehicles along a dirt track which did not help, but it is my first abiding memory.
Unfortunately the journey from house to office takes us past many of the army, UN and many others compounds. These are great big square edifices with very high concrete walls all the way round and topped with heavy barbed wire. They are just there, surrounded by empty space. It is like a scene from some weird "Mad Max" movie and is very ugly and depressing. BUT, I am told and believe there are some beautiful areas of Kabul, and the rural areas are especially beautiful. I can't wait to get out of the city and visit some of the camps where we are clearing mines.
Frst though I have to learn my job in the office and I shall be nailed to a desk and chair for a while trying to cram as much learning in as posible.
I think that wil do for starters after a 2 year break. Cant get you too excited just yet.
Take care.
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