INSANITY!!!

This is a subject of considerable interest here of course, whether raised in the context of an individual, a project, or (among the more radical) the whole endeavor...

However, it is most fondly known on FOB Shangri-la as the stress-releiving workout routine - a.k.a. the beachbody aerobics workout. Of course, there are some twists, which make it a bit different from the daily trip to the gym.

Firstly, everybody but me is Korean, which you would think would give me a leg up, since the video is in english.  Not so much, since our very enthusiastic team leader gives instructions in Korean, and expects us all to be in synch. Consequently, I have disciplined myself to ignore the instructions I am hearing on the video, and listen to what the instructor says. Actually, I don't listen to the instructor because, well, what's the point, I understand maybe a dozen words of the language and ten of those are the numbers one to 10. So I watch and follow.

This works out fine most of the time, plus our team leader seems to enjoy the opportunity to shout at me (in a good-natured way) or come over and correct my form.  This usually happens when we are doing our extra stretching, which we do LOTs of. Indeed, the "Insanity" workout really ends up as an aerobic break between two yoga classes - since we do 20-30 minutes each of "warm up" and "cool down" before and after the video, which itself contains the (apparently very deficient) American dosage of warm up and cooldown (5 minutes).

As a result, while I can't copy the effortless split of our instructor I have become quite a bit more flexible than the average American, and gained an appreciation of just how much sweat can be generated by a good stretching routine.

Less satisfying is an increased appreciation of how much such stretching and bending can aid digestion.  When I'm on the rice and seafood diet on base my stomach keeps quiet, but after I return from a trip to the land of cheeseburgers, egg mcmuffin sandwiches and tacos, it gurgles like a percolating coffee pot and I make a point of finding a spot at the back of the room to avoid an international incident.

The class finishes with the instructor taking attendance (not sure what kind of credit people get for attending...) and giving a speech that is not usually translated for me, although it occasionally includes my last name and some nods or laughs. Nonetheless, it's a highlight of the day, since around here a little insanity goes a long way.

Welcome Home - or not

Today ended a travel odyssey that involved far more time waiting for transportation than I care to recount. Suffice to say that plans for a 4 day outing ended up in a 12 day voyage. Naturally I did not pack (nor do I possess) sufficient pairs of undergarments for this eventuality. Fortunately for me, one of the various luxuries that our Embassy in Kabul offers are washing machines, only problem being that on the large bottles of laundery detergent were available, and there was no room in my backpack for it, so my Tide joined my running shoes strapped onto the outside of my backpack.

Local Market (random photo)

At any rate, I was anxious to get home not only to clean up and replenish my iron levels (I get FAR more green veggies here), but because I had a VIP coming in. After all my cancelled and missed flights (which is to say ones which flew, but did not have me on the manifest...) I decided to travel the old-fashioned way - MRAP.  We had a smooth trip over, and I got out at the front gate, anxious to at least drop off my Tide backpack before my bosses boss showed up. Also, having been away from the office nearly two weeks I couldn't remember if I had left it littered with half-empty cartons of banana soy milk, and the remnants of the last care package...

A Unique Educational Environment...

but its' fun to see kids "at work"

Accordingly, I waved to the new guards at the gate who was busy talking on the phone and tried to let him know who I was. He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop me, so I kept moving, waving to guests and guards as I went. After I made it almost to the next checkpoint I saw him chasing after me, signalling to stop. Between him being totally out of breath and neither of us speaking a lick of the other one's language, we were at a bit of an impasse until another guard came down to translate. I had to wonder what kind of threat assessment they were doing on somebody who they had watched step off of a US convoy, speaking english and not carrying any weapons. Maybe it was the Tide bottle that had them on edge?

After repeatedly explaining who I was, and that I have lived on the base for nearly a year, the guard escorted me up to talk with his commander.  Meanwhile, the deputy director of the PRT - a Korean civilian was within sight, at the third checkpoint - which he was not allowed to cross since he wasn't in body armor. Eventually I made the acquaintance of the 8th or 9th gate commander I've known during the past year, and apologized for not calling ahead to let them know I was coming.

Eventually I was released, though I didn't have time to ditch my bags, change or shower before heading to meet my guest. As it turns out this may have been a blessing in disguise (more on that soon).  Luckily, the helo was late, so I was there in time (side note: it occurs to me that I the timely arrival - or lack thereof - of a helicopter has become no more noteworthy than whether there is heavy traffic on the beltway).

Anyhow, the visit went fine, and I nodded my way through a tour of facilities that I have done at least once a month for the last six months. Depressingly though, while the base will continue to be used when we pull back at the end of the year the vocational school will be closed, and the medical center may follow suit.

After a charmingly Korean meal where my guest charmed the pants off the Koreans (he has the unfair advantage of being married to a Korean) I packed him off and recovered my bags. Heading straight to my room to clean up I decided that cultural correctness or not, my beard had gotten waaay to itchy and had to go. My beard trimmer had taken just about 50% off when it reminded me that it hadn't been charged in two weeks, and it went on strike. Naturally, the charging plug was in my office. Not to worry, I could do things the old-fashioned way, but first I needed a shower. Happily shedding my sweaty dress shirt and slacks I hopped in the shower and turned on the water. Except, no water came... So I checked the sink, where I had planned to finish shaving... and got no water there either.

Local Mosque

Luckily I had some water in my room - unluckily all that water was in the refridgerator, which of course was working quite well thankyouverymuch.  I tried to imagine myself in a crisp alpine stream, and succeeded brilliantly, down to the hyperventilation and strategic decision that a quick scrubdown was fine for now, and the shampoo could wait another day.  Shaving was another exercise in expediency, and I settled for taking off the bushiest part of my beard, but leaving scraggly stumps on my chin until either a sharp razor or warm water was available.

All the same, I was glad to be back where I could sleep in my own bed with clean (and warm) clothes on after catching up on things in my own office, except for that during my absence my computer connections had gone down...

A Long Strange Trip

(note artistic license to backdate)

As I finish my final leave (aka vacation in the US) and begin a  slightly tortuous series of flights, I am again struck by the different worlds that I am now equally at ease in – and each of which remain just beyond the realm of true integration.

My route brings me through Atlanta airport – and as I’m mentally contrasting the mud construction that still typifies much of Afghanistan with the airport metro that people cram into with mounds of luggage whose contents would mystify the average villager, and whose value would likely horrify them.  Having plenty of time, and only a backpack to deal with I decide to walk the tunnel instead, wondering why I seem to be almost the only one to make this decision.  Are we really running late for our flight?  Do we take the car/train/bus out of simple habit?

Anyhow, as I stroll along I am treated to a very nicely done exhibit on the history of Atlanta, and was reminded that even if we are train-riding, Gucci-bag-toting, gotta-be-there-yesterday people who seem a world removed from the long-walking, pack-a-hat-and-a-prayer-rug, take-time-for-some-Chai world of Afghan culture, we’re not.The first exhibit that caught my eye was admittedly slightly dated, from our civil war, when our human-rights loving Union Army decided to teach the Confederacy a lesson by burning Atlanta to the ground. An event that still simmers even in a country which, in comparison to most of the world, seems hell-bent on forgetting our own history – let alone that of any other nation whose path we have crossed in the past two-plus centuries.

So as I was reflecting on our own nasty internecine war, I fast forwarded to the Atlanta Olympics, which I am afraid are memorable not for the athletic milestones, but for the unsolved bombing which took place…  Admittedly, the circumstances are different, but we are both unfair to others and dishonest with ourselves when we judge our “way of life” to be impervious to the narrow-minded barbarity that we mentally confine to “fundamentalists”, while turning a blind eye to our own citizens who feel compelled to burn what a sizable chunk of the world believes to be the literal word of god (the Koran).

Having come to the end of the tunnel (less than a 10 minute walk) I decided to ponder these and other cosmic mysteries in the American fashion, over a beer and chips (that’s nacho chips, not freedom fries if any of my commonwealth mates are reading).  So I settled down and made my order, and was blown away when the waiter asked me for identification. I suppose it might have been the fact that the beard I have been sporting in Afghanistan made it through US customs on the way home, but not much further than that, being in no way compliant with more stringent domestic regulations/preferences. Nonetheless, having been “legal” for some two decades I was amused, and a bit saddened that we have come to a point where our fear of litigation has motivated to spend time and energy in such a low-probability verification of what is both obvious and of such little importance. Perhaps I’ve “gone native” – although that would actually imply a zero-tolerance policy – but if some 20 year-old has the money to pump into the economy by buying a four dollar beer in the airport, then I say let it ride. If they are average, they have already been drinking illegally for several years in places and ways that are totally unregulated – so my personal belief is that they are unlikely to get hooked, or even be able to afford to get blasted, at the airport bar, and if they do, they’ll learn a good life lesson.

Anyhow – the remainder of the trip was less “eventful” or maybe my reservoir of deep thoughts just doesn’t run very deep – and I found myself back on the tarmac a Bagram suddenly facing a small crisis.

Not being subject to “General Order #1” – which forbids US military personnel from drinking alcohol while in Afghanistan, I had decided to violate General Order #1, and made a small purchase at the duty free store, in the interest of repaying a friend who shall remain unidentified – but who is likewise not subject to the General Order.  Now there is the small matter of Afghan law, but I would be flying into a military base, and then there is the question of diplomatic immunity which isn’t remotely clear. I wasn’t exactly comfortable in this grey area, but had certainly never been told I couldn’t do so, and certainly knew of others who had done so.

At any rate, it was a VERY unpleasant surprise when we landed and they made the announcement that any contraband should be deposited in a bag by the entrance…  This put me in a bind, because my contraband was in my checked bags – so I couldn’t turn myself in.

However, I took solace in the fact that my lodging was very close to where we disembarked, so I had simply grabbed my bag and walked off without boarding a bus to go to the “terminal” where most passengers got picked up.

Procedural change #2 was that everybody had to get on the bus, and reclaim their bags at that point.  My palms were getting very slick by now, and I started looking for my bag to see if they were going to call me into the military customs police.  Now my diplomatic immunity seemed like a huge liability. It was an honest, even defensible mistake, but I could just see my boss saying to me “it’s not that I’m mad, I’m just disappointed”.

Finally I see my bag come off the plane, and then see the bag handler call the   supervisor over, pointing at the bag, tapping the sides, and after some consultation putting it BACK IN THE PLANE.  Now I’m certain that my true worst fear has been realized, and that not only am I smuggling, I’m doing a bad job of it and didn’t pack it well, so the cargo bay now reeks of vodka and I’m to blame. (Plus I have no clean underwear).

I decide that I need to do some damage control, and as we’re loading up the bus I sheepishly confess that my contraband is in my checked bag.  This heartfelt confession is shrugged off, but I still don’t see my bag as we pull out.  Fifteen minutes later we are finished processing at the “terminal” and the baggage is waiting for us.  I don’t see my bag in the main pile, and am not surprised as I wait for the public humiliation I feel certain is imminent and will happen when they drag out a liquor soaked bag (with my initials embroidered on it thankyouverymuch) and make a loudspeaker announcement for me to go to the principals office.

To my astonishment though, my bag is in the pile, and with no visible stain marks. I gingerly lift it out, still waiting for the newly formed BAF customs enforcement team to move in. Finding a quiet corner, I verify the obvious, newly thankful that my gift is both intact, and that apparently,  it will not result in my ejection from the country. It took some restraint not to use it to immediately calm my nerves, but the recipient was properly appreciative, and the story of its journey made for extra enjoyment.

Just Another Day In...

Along the line of a recent post, I thought I'd share some lightly edited email traffic that encapsulates the "flavor" of my experience this year

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May 15, 2012

To BRMS (personnel):

There was an threat (to our facility) this morning.  All (personnel) are safe and lock-down procedures were followed.  The... Police completed a search of the BRMS and UID campuses, viewed the threat, evaluated the building security systems and determined that it was safe for (personnel) to remain.

---

May 23, 2012

This message is a follow up to the BRMS bomb threat received today.  All (personnel) are safe and evacuation procedures were followed.  The BRMS Crisis Response Team completed a search of the BRMS campus, viewed the bomb threat, and determined that it was safe for (personnel) to remain in school.

The Police are investigating the recent anonymous threats.  We appreciate your patience and support as the BRMS (authorities) collaborate to identify the individual(s) who is/are making these unlawful threats.

----------

The (authorities) have been able to determine the source of both email threats that were sent over the past week.  We have turned over all information gathered in our investigation to the Police.  We want to assure all BRMS community members that our building is safe for all.   Additionally we would like to thank the (community and law enforcement).  We are proud of the way our (personnel) handled these situations in a calm and professional way. 

------

Now - to return to the theme of my experience in Atlanta - that Afghanistan and the U.S. aren't as different as we tend to think - the emails reached me in Afghanistan, but have to do with bomb threats emailed to Browns River Middle School (BRMS) in the great state of Vermont...

Who knew?

The International Language of ...

It's been a downer of a week, so I thought I would finish a posting that's been in the works for a while, and that speaks to our common humanity.

After living overseas in six very different countries on four different continents and picking up four extra languages along the way I flatter myself in thinking I've picked up a bit of the international language.

As any properly jaded expatriate will tell you, the international language is not love (the whole idea reeks of Hollywood and the "coca-colaization" of the world), nor is it sign language or even Esperanto.

Where cultures touch and we find our shared humanity of course is the language of SPAM.

Allow me to offer a small sample of my inbox from the Americas, Europe, and Africa which is a testimony to the creativity, tenacity and guile that unites all peoples,

Latin America

Estimado Beneficiario,

Cargill, que fue fundada en 1865 por W.W. Cargill, fue concebido con el objetivo
de crecimiento humano, educación y desarrollo comunitario. Tenemos el agrado de
informarles que como parte de nuestra promoción el año fiscal 2012.

-----------------------------
Europe

 IDRIS & IDRIS CO,
bedrijven Advocaten, Vertegenwoordiger.
15C, Victoria Crecent Avenue Ikoyi
GRA Lagos.~~V

Sir,
We zijn geraadpleegd en onze service behouden door de voormalige Group
Managing Director van Nigeria National Petrolum Corporation (NNPC), de
heer Livius Ajonuma (OFR) om uw participatie / samenwerking proberen de
Bewaring en investering van een bepaalde hoeveelheid geld Forstall
momenteel gedeponeerd in een Finance House.(Dutch lawyers seeking investment partners for a Nigerian oil company, who knew?)

A Votre Aimable Attention, 

Nous avons le Plaisir de vous annoncez que votre adresse Email a été retenue par sélection informatique, et vous faites donc partie des heureux gagnants de l'année 2011 de la Compagnie HEINEKEN BEER. Ceci est une loterie portant sur les adresses Emails des internautes du monde entier. La valeur totale mis en jeu est de 180.000 000 Millions Euros et votre adresse a été tirée au sort par sélection informatique lors de notre tirage annuel

(The well-known French company Heineken Beer apparently has a high stakes lottery... 180 million euros)

--------

Africa

Dear compatriot,

I shall be coming to your country for an official meeting this week and
i will be bringing your united nation endowment funds of (US$5,000000.00) 5Million US Dollars along with me but this time i will not go through customs because as an ambassador to Benin, i am a us government agent and i have the veto power to go through customs.

Dear Friend: Please Respond

It's me Nanthana Chansithipongse, I want to donate what I have to the needy.You Could be surprised why I picked you. But someone has to do it. I have been diagonalized with Breast and Blood disease which has defiled all forms of medical treatment and I have been told by my doctor that my days are numbered on earth. I have been touched to donate from what I have made from this World to charity through you for the good work of humanity, rather than allow my relatives to use my hard earned funds inappropriately after my death.
----
War scams - origin?

Dear,

I am Dr. Cynthia Woodward from Newcastle , England . I am serving in United
States of America Military Hospital in Iraq . I am compelled to contact you
concerning a business deal which would be beneficial to us and will lead us
into partnership investment. I have some fund US dollars that i successfully
moved out of the country, It is an oil business money we did with Iraqi
citizens.

Greetings in the name of Allah,

am the  wife of the late Libyan president Gaddafi who was killed by rebels on Thursday 20th  Oct 2011, please my life is in big danger and I would like to use you as my contact to move a huge sum of money and start living a free life in your country.

LOVE is in the air...

Hello,

Am a young single girl never married seeking true love for a long term relationship with marriage potentials,i am happy to contact you because you cut my interest!

(my interest is cut also, but I don't see good potentials here...)

---------------

Accordingly, I was deeply touched and filled with hope when I received an email starting

 خاطرمان جمع شود
 

Peace be upon you...

Uncontrovertable proof that the internet cafes of Afghanistan are connecting with the broader world, and that progress - if that's the word - is  on the march...