=== Posting from FOCUS offices ===
Writing this from my room in the Park Palace guest house in Kabul. There wasn't any space in the AKF guest house so they shifted me over here and, despite my apprehensions, it's fine. Judging by lunch, the food is marginally better than the AKF guest house. But that's a pretty low bar and I will not be ordering the cheeseburger again. Also, Nescafe. One of mankind's greatest abominations against god.
Yesterday was Caryn's birthday, which we got started an hour early or so, with beers on the odd little deck outside her room at the Serena. I was, lamely, too tired to make it to midnight for a proper kickoff. But no worries. Yesterday (Friday, I have to remind myself) was a kind of a microcosm of the trip. Productive meeting with the OFDA rep to start things off, which covers the productive nature of the trip. Then ran into Rebecca, Andwele, Andrew and some of the other AKFA crew who were in ISB to attend Kevin's wedding. Did some work then went over to the PHF office to meet with Claire, PHF's Coordinator. Got back around 3 feeling a bit queasy, which covers the off-and-on slightly-out-of-it-plus-vague-
That paragraph was boring but necessary.
Caryn's birthday dinner was nice if a bit odd: we were joined by a friend of a friend of hers, to whom Caryn had brought a specific kind of dental floss. It ended up being a nice dinner but just a little awkward to have the two of us dining with a complete stranger. The hotel brought some cake to the table at the end, my first positive experience ever with coconut creme.
Then packed, slept very little due I think to nerves over making my flight, woke at 4, and made it to the airport in plenty of time. The flight was fine, just one notable thing: A guy got on with what I presume were his three wives. All three were evidently young, judging by their hands and eyes, which were the only parts they had uncovered, and the eyes only on two of them. At least one spoke quite good English, judging by the fluidity with which she pronounced, "I won't sit next to a man." The man's seat was next to mine, so I and two other guys on our row moved in order to let the quartet have that row to themselves. This is, needless to say, not something you see every day, even in Afghanistan. I've got to repeat that I don't know whether that's what this group was. It could have been father, mother and two grown daughters. The one I took to be the most senior -- she had a rather beautifully decorated niqab, contrasted with the plain black of the other two, and sat next to the man while the other two sat across the aisle -- had very different coloration and eye shape from the others, for one thing.
My ignorance of family relations in a polygamous family is absolute and based on assumptions and nothing else. Makes me want to learn more about polygamy in Afghanistan and the Muslim world more broadly.
At any rate, immigration and customs took a while. I couldn't find my checked bag, the aforementioned large accordion, and was about to get pissed when it turned up in a pile off in a corner. Whatever. After that it was smooth sailing. Karim Bakhsh met me in the building by parking lot C. I experienced a little rush of affection at seeing him again. I don't know why, because we can't communicate beyond "Hello" and "How are you" and the names of destinations, but there's just something gentle, friendly, earnest about him. Something in the way he goes about his business, something in his face -- he smiles more than most people here. Whew, getting nearer to purple territory. As I said, genuine affection. The guy was a military driver, too, decades ago, as I learned last year. So perhaps part of it is imagining some of the shit he must have seen, that he comes across the way he does in spite of that.
Check-in at the Park Palace was without incident. My room is small but fine and has the wardrobe I wish I had at home -- imagine, being able to hang shirts up side-by-side instead of front-to-back. I lay down for a while and tried to get some sleep but only managed to doze for a couple of hours. Woke up with the beginnings of a caffeine-and-hunger headache, ate the aforementioned lunch, and here I am. Tameeza's on her way over to hang out for a bit, which will be nice. It's good to know people here outside of work, because otherwise it could get awfully boring. At least the TV is more varied than in the Serena.
Oh, last thing: I finished Awakenings. It stayed stunning and masterful until the penultimate appendix, in which Sacks discusses the various film, radio and stage adaptations of the book. The section is a bit boring to begin with, and then he starts name dropping "Bob" DeNiro and Robin Williams and it just gets irritating. I skipped the last few pages and went right to the glossary. And then I was done. With that, I think I'll go outside and get started on The Charterhouse of Parma while I wait for Tameeza. The courtyard is actually pretty nice, if not without its Afghan quirks, and it's lovely out. More on the quirks when I get a chance to take some photos.
Writing this from my room in the Park Palace guest house in Kabul. There wasn't any space in the AKF guest house so they shifted me over here and, despite my apprehensions, it's fine. Judging by lunch, the food is marginally better than the AKF guest house. But that's a pretty low bar and I will not be ordering the cheeseburger again. Also, Nescafe. One of mankind's greatest abominations against god.
Yesterday was Caryn's birthday, which we got started an hour early or so, with beers on the odd little deck outside her room at the Serena. I was, lamely, too tired to make it to midnight for a proper kickoff. But no worries. Yesterday (Friday, I have to remind myself) was a kind of a microcosm of the trip. Productive meeting with the OFDA rep to start things off, which covers the productive nature of the trip. Then ran into Rebecca, Andwele, Andrew and some of the other AKFA crew who were in ISB to attend Kevin's wedding. Did some work then went over to the PHF office to meet with Claire, PHF's Coordinator. Got back around 3 feeling a bit queasy, which covers the off-and-on slightly-out-of-it-plus-vague-
That paragraph was boring but necessary.
Caryn's birthday dinner was nice if a bit odd: we were joined by a friend of a friend of hers, to whom Caryn had brought a specific kind of dental floss. It ended up being a nice dinner but just a little awkward to have the two of us dining with a complete stranger. The hotel brought some cake to the table at the end, my first positive experience ever with coconut creme.
Then packed, slept very little due I think to nerves over making my flight, woke at 4, and made it to the airport in plenty of time. The flight was fine, just one notable thing: A guy got on with what I presume were his three wives. All three were evidently young, judging by their hands and eyes, which were the only parts they had uncovered, and the eyes only on two of them. At least one spoke quite good English, judging by the fluidity with which she pronounced, "I won't sit next to a man." The man's seat was next to mine, so I and two other guys on our row moved in order to let the quartet have that row to themselves. This is, needless to say, not something you see every day, even in Afghanistan. I've got to repeat that I don't know whether that's what this group was. It could have been father, mother and two grown daughters. The one I took to be the most senior -- she had a rather beautifully decorated niqab, contrasted with the plain black of the other two, and sat next to the man while the other two sat across the aisle -- had very different coloration and eye shape from the others, for one thing.
My ignorance of family relations in a polygamous family is absolute and based on assumptions and nothing else. Makes me want to learn more about polygamy in Afghanistan and the Muslim world more broadly.
At any rate, immigration and customs took a while. I couldn't find my checked bag, the aforementioned large accordion, and was about to get pissed when it turned up in a pile off in a corner. Whatever. After that it was smooth sailing. Karim Bakhsh met me in the building by parking lot C. I experienced a little rush of affection at seeing him again. I don't know why, because we can't communicate beyond "Hello" and "How are you" and the names of destinations, but there's just something gentle, friendly, earnest about him. Something in the way he goes about his business, something in his face -- he smiles more than most people here. Whew, getting nearer to purple territory. As I said, genuine affection. The guy was a military driver, too, decades ago, as I learned last year. So perhaps part of it is imagining some of the shit he must have seen, that he comes across the way he does in spite of that.
Check-in at the Park Palace was without incident. My room is small but fine and has the wardrobe I wish I had at home -- imagine, being able to hang shirts up side-by-side instead of front-to-back. I lay down for a while and tried to get some sleep but only managed to doze for a couple of hours. Woke up with the beginnings of a caffeine-and-hunger headache, ate the aforementioned lunch, and here I am. Tameeza's on her way over to hang out for a bit, which will be nice. It's good to know people here outside of work, because otherwise it could get awfully boring. At least the TV is more varied than in the Serena.
Oh, last thing: I finished Awakenings. It stayed stunning and masterful until the penultimate appendix, in which Sacks discusses the various film, radio and stage adaptations of the book. The section is a bit boring to begin with, and then he starts name dropping "Bob" DeNiro and Robin Williams and it just gets irritating. I skipped the last few pages and went right to the glossary. And then I was done. With that, I think I'll go outside and get started on The Charterhouse of Parma while I wait for Tameeza. The courtyard is actually pretty nice, if not without its Afghan quirks, and it's lovely out. More on the quirks when I get a chance to take some photos.
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