Heat Waves and Crime Waves--I'm back in DC!

It took two eight-hour flights, and a long enough lay-over in Heathrow to buy a few Euro-trash tank tops, but I made it fine. The Islamabad-London flight kind of sucked. It was crowded and smelly, too long and too many cultures who did not appreciate eachother locked in together. I, for one, did not appreciate the dirty feet of the guy behind me on my armrest, or the guy next to me draping his turban and brushing his beard on me. The abolutions make the bathrooms like a dirty lagoon, and the western flight attendants got mad at a Pakistani lady for whacking her kids. But then the Pakistani men got pissed at the fight attendant for yelling at the lady, and then refused to stay seated during out drawn-out taxi to the gate. I'm all for more color in life, but by the time we deplaned, I felt OD'ed on humanity. I even shoved a rude Frenchwoman working with doctors without borders, but she shoved me first. She yelled at me in French and I answered her back in French and called her a shithead. That sort of cheered me up.

The London-DC fight was a piece of cake, I spent my remaining euros and pounds on a few bottles of wine, then slept the entire time. It was nighttime in Paksitan so I slept well. But, around midinght DC time, it was still mid-morning in Pak so I wasn't tired at all. I stayed in bed extremely bored until 0330. I told myself I had to keep trying to sleep at least until 0500. I lasted until 0445, then had breakfast and did a few loads of laundry. 0600 I was out the door for a nice run!! Ooh it felt great. Luckily it was only a few miles. I had to get into my office to get my house keys and gym pass. I thought it would be early enough to be in the office alone and do some stuff online, but I heard someone else come into the office so I bolted (lest they raise the question of why I'm back but not coming into the office for the next two days.) Got to the gym just in time for a bodypump class--one of my faves! I'm sure I will regret it tomorrow when I am sore, but I took everything that Grace Jones from Trinidad trainer dished out today with a smile.

Now I'm at a coffee shop with Cori, about to go to a salon to look presentable again.
I think this is the end of Mac-istan, thanks for visiting!! I"m glad I had you all with me, I appreciate all of your support and time spent reading my blather. Talk to you all soon.
Bye!!

Things I'll miss and the question of the hour

Hey hey, its my last day in Peshawar and I'm sad!!
This is Waqar and I. He's the HR manager and my office mate. In the morning I come in and we get tea and toast at our desks, and he sends people out for peaches and apricots for me (even though you are not supposed to eat fruit with tea, or even until after lunch.) He's the best. Getting married to his cousin, as many Pakistani's do. His english is great, as are his personality and sense of humor.

I will also miss the sweets shops, like this one. I love to go in and get a sampling of the local deserts and pastries. I have to say that after an admittedly non-representative sampling of sweet shops, Pakistan does not rank high on my list of places with delicious desserts. Baghdad beats it by a mile, mainly because they had some nice Turkish-influenced sweets. Amanda and I used to drop into those shops in B-dad all the time, banking on the unfailing hospitality in order to get free tastings of whatever we ooh'ed and aah'ed at. Some places even let us go in back and see the sweets on the conveyor belts. Far from hygienic, I know, but maybe some people enjoyed finding long blond hairs in their candies....

I'll also miss the bicycles everywhere and the entertaining juxtapostions they support--fat men on small bikes, old men on new bikes, little kids on large bikes, and small groups trying to get places on broken bikes. Oh, and have I mentioned the trucks? Incredible detailed artwork and painting on them. You can kind of see it on that lovely red truck. The busses are fun too--always colorful with flags and garlands flying from them, and horns that blare obnoxious melodies.

Fruit stands and nut stalls I've mentioned are up there on my list. Plant nurseries are also fun to drop in on, as sort of a micro-cosm of a culture. You can see what the local plants and fruit trees are, what plants/trees they import and from where, what's considered exotic, etc. Plus, no matter how unsafe the country is, there's something soothing and reassuring that you can usually find a beautiful green respite place with people who care about potted plants and flowers.

What else? Just checking out people hanging out and doing their own thing--like these kids by the road side a few hours outside of Peshawar.

Its kind of a bummer that, because of security, I can't just hang out places like in markets or puruse shops and stalls. There is always so much going on. But, lots of sectarian violence in Pakistan these days, don't know if you've read about it. Going into Malakand with a truckload of armed policemen sent to "protect" me, a guy asked me, "Are you Sunni or Shia?" I think he meant which one to I side with, just to know. So, I said, "Neither, I'm Christian." He said, "Ok, but are you Sunni Christian or Shia Christian?" Brilliant. He wins. I was stumped.
I gotta go eat lunch and meet with some staff before I head out for Islamabad. I don't want to go!!!
But, I do look forward to seeing everyone again. 7 weeks is a long time to go without seeing any of you guys.
Besos, talk to you soon.

History Lesson

Hi Hi!
Sorry for my tardiness in posting--way to let me hear about it, people, I love it.
So, here are some photos from the area of Taxila, the most important archeological site in Pakistan. (Please see link at right for all kinds of info on Taxila--Mac-istan IT does not miss a beat!)


So, first one is the ruins of Bhir Mound, a large city that was part of the Persian empire, and dates all the the way back to the 6th and 7th centuries BCE (before the common era); Alexander the Great hung out here in the 4th century. The Taxila museum is really beautiful, and had relics from Bhir Mound, including intricate keys for locks, surgical instruments, lovely jewelry, scales, coins, etc. Just amazing how unimaginably long ago that was, and they used the same things we still use every day.

Some time around 300 BCE, Buddhist monks settled in the city, and set up a monastery called Dharmarajika monastery around 270 BCE. Dharmarajika means 'the tomb of the real lord', because the large stupa I'm in front of used to conatain relics of Buddha. (A stupa is a funeral mound, usually associated with the death and nirvana of Buddha.)

The third photo is at Sirkap (the other major city after Bhir Mound), established around 200BCE. You are looking at the Double-Headed Eagle Stupa. That's right, I said Double-Headed Eagle Stupa. Sirkap is HUGE, and laid out like a grid, with wide streets, shops, sun temples, etc.

I think the most tourists here are from Japan, who come to see the Buddhas and the monasteries. The other two photos are from a monastery that is a hike up from the regular grounds. It was established more recently, year 80 CE. At left is a votive stupa with great detail of little atlantes and other figures, and me zenning with a headless buddha.
Ok, good attention, you may go to recess.
See you guys soon. I'll be back in the states Wednesday night.
I'll post more before then--I have to get out all vestiges of blather before the blog is over!

Diff'rent Strokes for Pakistani Folks?

Lower Mittekoat and Islamabad.

Going to Taxila tomorrow, the most significant archeological site in Pakistan. Its in the Punjab, which I just like the sound of. (Does any one remember Punjabi from Annie? They really do dress like that.) Anyway, the oldes parts of Taxila go back to 6th and 5th centuries BCE. And there some later areas of the site that were Buddhist sanctuaries. I'll put photos up tomorrow. What a weekend treat you guys are in for!
Latron.

Balakot

Here's Balakot, the epicenter of the October 8, 2005 earthquake here. Most of the stuctures you see are put up since the earthquake, there was absolutely nothing left except the frame of two-story cement building on the far right side. f Now there are new shops, etc, but so much destruction left. There's a couple of places where the smell is overpowering, and the local engineers told me that's where there are lots of bodies
burried, just by circumstance, or by a mass grave. : (

Lots going on though, with rebuilding, etc., and people are doing their best to keep going.

I gotta run to Islamabad. Talk to you soon.

Best Day Yet

I went up with a water/sanitation team to some remote areas to see the water schemes we've put in places, and areas we will do future projects. We went to some pretty remote areas, where only our NGO is working. Almost every switchback required a 6-point turn, so going just 6 km would take about 40 minutes. The picture at left is our truck. We had to leave it and hike part of the way to one of the villages. The way its facing is the way we drove out--you can see how little and rocky the road is--its like a footpath (right click on it and open it a new window to see it better.) I am so amazed at what these trucks can climb over and go down--literally boulder fields. The drivers are incredible too. And, Mom, they definitely never drink--its strictly forbidden here (trust me, I've tried.) Plus, I was briefed on all the ways to jump out of a rolling vehicle, so, no worries.

We went into different villages and saw if the water was working, checked the tanks and standpipes and pipes and talked with the communities. That was so fun. The people were really hospitable, patient, and gracious. The women were usually really shy, but always wanted to touch hands and never failed to return my smile and Salaam. I didn't really take photos of them, it felt intrusive. The landscape was amazing--huge mountains lush with trees and, but just ripped apart by landslides. (Will post more pictures later.)

Ooh, speaking of landslides, check out this road which we take to our projects in Kaghan Valley. (Mom, don't read any more, or please forgive me if you do.) So, further along this road we had special duties--one person had to look up for falling rocks, and the other person look down the side for moving land. I know it was dangerous, but I was totally grinning with my wrapped-up head out the window looking down at the river way below.

I wanted to put up some photos of Balakot--the epicenter of the earthquake, but it won't let me upload photos. I will do it later tonight, maybe. The internet is really weak here, and the electricity patchy--not even fans at night. Luckily it is cooler here, but it is still damn hot. And tons of mosquitoes. So, sleep is not happening so much. But, I only have one more week and tons of stuff to do, so will just push through.

Some things I wanted to say in comments, but can't since I can't get to blogspot.com: did anyone catch that that was a sheep in the photo with the men in the previous post? and thsoe were its.... ugh, disgusting. HELLO TAUSCHEKS! Mike D, thank you for the holla, I've been wondering about you. Alan, you made me laugh out loud. W, of course I watched the game. That penalty call in the box was BS. But I wanted Italy anyway, so I am happy. I feel a void in my life now that both the World Cup and Wimbeldon are over. And, finally, Mom, yes I am pale. But I plan to rock my costume this weekend in ISB so will hopefully catch some rays (and some men who can appreciate 1920s swimsuit fashion.)

Talk to you all soon

Oh my landslide

Hi. I'm in the town of Mansehra, near the epicenter of the October 8, 2005 earthquake in the NWFP. We have health, water and sanitation, and mental health projects here. Today I went to along with a mental health/psychosocial team to see their activities and help distribute sewing machines to widows with no sources of income. Basically, just hung out all day in this tiny mountain town--in the clinic and with the community. It was really beautiful. But also sad. The people have lost so much and their daily life is constant struggle. I can't say much more without ranting about suffering and priviledge and tearing up, so I won't.

There are still crazy landslides throughout the mountains and all over the roads, which were hairy enough without all the rubble to climb over--all single lane with no shoulder. I sit behind the driver so I can't see what's going on. Even when he violently swerves, slams the brakes, or blares the horn, I just keep looking out the side window. If we are not getting in an accident, I don't really want to know how close we came, it would just make me tense. We went soo high though, way up into the clouds. Really beautiful.You can see in picture with the man standing how high we were. There is a raging river down there, too far to see.

The top photo of the guys with the goat is one of my favorites. Actually, the guy in the center was my favorite. I took a bunch of him, and they were all really good. He dug it. I was originally taking photos of his goat's football-size scrotom sack (I thought since they they are probably comparable to sheep balls, I could make a funny post out of that) but then he showed great enthusiam for posing for pictures with his goat.
The kids were part of a group of six brothers and sisters who came in to the clinic. And the bottom one is Dr. Sabah and I. I have so many more photos--of rock landslides, more people, the mountains and river, tent cities, the six kids, the goat....
But, there's not enough room on the blog, or juice in this dial-up connection to put them all up. I'll just make sure to put some up each day. Tomorrow I'm going out with the medical teams to some more remote areas and a displaced persons camp. Wednesday is back out to the field with the wat/san teams, then down to Islamabad.
Hope you are all well. Ciao.

NWFP Swimsuit Edition

Yo yo y'all. Hope every one is well. I'm going to continue on the theme of humiliating myself (and thanks for the help, Amanda) and show you my super hot Peshawar swimming "costume."
You can call me crazy for thinking I wouldn't need a swimming suit in Pakistan and Afghanistan, but my tan is fading under this damn chadhri so I made the masochistic decision to spend the day outdoors. But that is not physiologically sustainable without a pool close at hand, and a pool necessitates a swimsuit of some sort (at least for me.)

You sharp readers might remember that I was enjoying the UN guesthouse pool in Jalalabad, but that was a borrowed suit. And, really, that lady should have just given me the suit, bc she will never fit in it again, ah, bygones. Anyway, we (Waqar, Vincent the Frenchman and I) went to the market area to find me a suit. Even the nice stores didn't sell suits. I considered buying this man on the plastic bucket cart instead, but Waqar talked me out of it.
So, we went in a few different stores, nothing. Finally one store did sell womens swimming "costumes." I really wish I had taken photos of the suits. They were all these shorts style (like mine above), but medium was the largest size they had. Most of them had SLEEVES, as well as the shorts, and necklines right up to the clavicles. Thankfully, I found this one, which was featured in the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

My expat companion in Peshawar is Vincent. He looks like a Guantanamo Bay interrogator in this photo, but he is so goofy and fun. He's French but lives on the island of La Reunion, which is also added to my travel list. I don't know if I'm going to be able to work again, with all these places to go.... Anyway, Vincent is great, we have a good time together. He's had some good laughs over my potential and current swimming attire.

We're going up to the earthquake-affected area tomorrow and I'll stay until Thursday. We have a bunch of water/sanitation and health projects there that I need to see. Thursday I'll head down to Islamabad and meet up with our Country Director to have some meetings with US and UN donors. Should be a blast. But, the good thing is a friend of a friend of a friend is there, and we're going to spend the weekend together. He knows Islamabad fairly well, so it should be fun. After a weekend off in ISB, I'll come back down to Peshawar for a few days to see some of the sites here that I couldn't because of security reasons.

I am supposed to fly out on this coming Wednesday, but am going to postpone about a week (Cori, I will make it up to you, I promise.) Time goes so fast here! Oh, here is a typical bus here in Peshawar. The buses are not half as elaborate as the trucks though, they are truly majestic.

What else to tell you? The guesthouse here is lovely. I was berating myself for not bringing my yoga mat, but realized an Islamic prayer mat works fairly well. I get borderline heat stroke daily, but that just provides a good reason to eat lots of chips and fries (for the salt.) The power has been erratic at night. I fight a minor panic attack as the AC clunks off and the temperature quickly climbs. The generator can power only the ceiling fan, so before I go crazy I usually go stand in the shower and then lie under the fan. That way at least I have intervals of cool until the water on me dries and is replaced again by sweat. But, you'll have that, I guess. The earthquake area is in the beautiful mountains, which will be nice and cool. Can't wait. Hope you're enjoying your weekends.

Tonight's Dinner

This is at the Pearl Continental Hotel. The nicest in Peshawar. Tons of meats on shishes. For some reason they were happy to let me behind the grill. A sword fight with the kebab man followed this picture. He was no match for my light sabers of mutton and fat.

Refugee Camps

Hey all,
When I'm not back-blogging I am visiting Afghan refugee camps in the North West Frontier Province. (Four provinces of Pakistan--NWFP, Punjab, Baluchistan and Sindh.)


Yesterday I went to Khachi Ghari which is has been open since 1979. Its right in the center of the city, strangely enough, and its like a city unto itself. Its got 54K people in it, and it used to have 71K. The government of Pak is trying to close it (it was supposed to close April 2006, but no one has left.) And, if you look back to the Jalalabad pictures of the returnee camp of Sheik Mesry which has been chosen for them (the one that made me want to cry) you can understand why people aren't leaving the lives they've established here. So, again, the photos are out of the car, so as not to cause a scene, but are thus kind of blurry, sorry. There were so many children running around, and all so cute. But I sort of hate taking pictures when people are looking, since I know how it makes me feel, but I got one of these guys doing something with this wooden cart.

The group shot is in the clinic we run--a health education session. This clinic is where I literally had to take a seat. It was so hot in there. Its just a big warehouse with no ventilation. I had rivers of sweat running from all places, my head swaddled and hot, and not a real breakfast--just tea. So, my ears started ringing, and my stomach felt strange and my head felt floaty. I sat. I recovered. But now its a joke between me and the doctors--Kacha Ghari got me. I was saying I've spend August in Iraq in 130F weather and no AC, and played frisbee for hours in horrible hot humid weather, and never had any heat tolerance problems. But that Khachi Ghari, man, it got me.
We went to two other sites that day. A maternal and child health center in an urban camp, and an emergency obstetric care clinic. See? Work.

Today we drove 2.5 hours outside of Peshawar to some far flung refugee camps. They were all mud houses like this. Saw two basic health units, and one new maternal and child health and feeding center. At each clinic I'd tour of every room of it, and speak with all the providers and staff, look at all their registration materials, data collection systems, treatment protocols, etc., etc. Then, just when I would want to jump in the airconditioned car before I need to take another seat, we have a mini-party. They bust out the pepsi or mountain dew, and either mangoes, bananas, apricots, and crackers. They are so insanely hospitable and kind. It was great.

I missed Amanda’s birthday on July 3rd. Amanda, my present to you is publicly telling your favorite story. Everyone, one time Amanda and I were in a security meeting in for IMC-Baghdad personnel. I was probably being loquacious, as most meetings bring out a sort of petulance and rebellion in me. I was sitting on a couch with Amanda on one side of me, and a quiet Eritrean engineer on my other. I had my right foot stuck straight up in the air because I had sprained it that day playing soccer with some soldiers in the Green Zone. I think Amanda made me laugh about something and then, with my legs in the air, I ripped a huge fart! I didn’t know what to do or say, so I didn’t say anything but Amanda and I just laughed like crazy. To this day I don’t know if Gideon heard it, because he didn’t say a word or react at all. Not the funniest story, but its one of Amanda’s favorites, along with the one where I was so mad she was going to evacuate without me I cried.

Bribes and other improprieties

Just flying one hour from Kabul to Islamabad entailed so much lunacy! Somewhat shocking and frustrating, but still refreshing in that it is so different from an airport trip in the States.

The first stop to getting into the airport is a checkpoint outside the run by the Afghan police. So I go in with my ticket and passport ready, all set for some form of legit encounter. That was dumb. A small woman in a dress version of the dark green police uniform looked at me for a bit, then got up and came over. Didn’t take my outstretched ticket so I offer my passport, but she wasn’t interested in that either. I gathered the big table in the room was for searching bags, so I made ‘pick it up?’motions at my backpack. I half picked it up and gestured to the table (she was a little lady, so I thought I’d help.) But, no, she makes the bok sheesh gesture at me. That’s Dari for bribe. But, this is all hindsight, bc at the time, I had no idea what she was doing. A lot of her gesturing, me smiling stupidly and gesturing back, and her getting increasing irritated ensued. Finally, I burst out, ooh, you want bok sheesh!! Not to call her out (but I wouldn’t have given it to her anyway), but I was so happy to finally understand. Well, that ended that encounter quickly. She literally shoved me out of the tent, and my driver who was diligently waiting outside hurriedly grabbed my bags. In the car he told me, “Kiri (which is how lots of people in the mid-east pronounced my name too. Plus its a cheese here that I like.) yell bok sheesh no good.” And he also said ‘Afghan police no good.’ I said, “ I know. She wanted bok sheesh” to which he vehemently yelled and shook his finger, “Noooooooooo bok sheesh!” Babrak, for one, will not be perpetuating the corruption problem among Afghan authorities.

So, female hut #2 was also a good time, but for different reasons. A woman was sitting in this tiny tiny hut with her son, just chilling. She’s not interested in my passport or ticket either but she pointed at my carry-on bag so I set that down and let her go through it. Then she gets up, takes my arms and pulls them out to my side and pats them down. Before I know it, she is completely feeling me up—we are talking Tune-In Tokyo-style! (I want to know who gets that joke.) That’s over soon enough and as I’m gathering my bag she is nudging her son to look at me, and gesturing to my eyes and hair. She seems genuinely annoyed that he’s not interested in me (mind you, he’s not a day over 3 years old.) That was strange, but it sort of explained some disturbing behavior I encountered the other day.

I was at a mango stand--I hadn’t had any in a few days and the orange stains on the corners of my mouth were beginning to fade. There were some young boys there who were cute and excited to say Hi and Hello to me and I was friendly back. But this boy, who was maybe 10 or so went from “hello” to looking me up and down and licking his lips! Ugh, it was disturbing.

While I’m on the subject, I sat outside a bit at the airport, inside the UN compound so I didn’t even need to wear my headscarf. But this worker comes up and asks me where I’m going, blah blah. Then, also, looks me up and down unabashedly. Asks me if I’m married. I yes, indignantly. That doesn’t stop his ogling though. The next question is (as if being married doesn’t matter so much) he asks if I have children. So I feign a proud mom face and say, yes, two. And, by the way I was looking today, I could have easily passed for having twins on the way, so I don’t’ know what the hell all the hassle is about. I think men here just think western women are all sluts and harlots. The take the hair showing and bare arms to mean we are up for fulfilling their fantasies and the smut they see on satellite TV porn.

So, that was the end of the craziness, but just the beginning of four hours of waiting to board. Usually I don’t care if my plane is delayed, or get upset about anything else outside of my control—in the grand scheme of things its not important one bit. But I think my grand scheme was shrinking with every hour of BLARING Indian music and then Indian soap operas and music videos with more warbling and some wailing as well. I guess TV for most Afghans is still novel enough that the experience is enhanced by playing it very loudly. Plus, the snack bar had closed and my Snickers had stopped satisfying.
Ok, that’s the end of the whining. After boarding, we waiting another hour for a dust storm.

This calls for a Jihad

My people, I have some terrible news: Mac-istan is banned in Paksitan!!! By reason of "anti-Islamic content" blogspot is banned in Pakistan. Can you believe it? Well, its not actually that bad since it just means that I can't see Mac-istan. But that's a big bummer because all I want to do is read your comments and holla back. Of course, Mac-istan IT came to the rescue, again (did you all see the new Pakistan map IT put up?) In order for me to your comments on the blog, they will first get emailed to me, then I publish them (as long as you are not defying the fatwa about Nadal-bashing.)

I'm in Peshawar, and its great. Been at Afghan refugee camps most of the day. Lost 18.5 gallons of water in sweat so am about to chow on some mangoes and nuts. I left Kabul just before the bombs of yesterday and today. Its aaaaallll good.So, good morning to you all, and get ready, because I have some backlogged backblogs do. Hope you had great july 4th weekends!

All quiet in Kabul

Nothing new except for a spike in intestinal IgE. I'm ok with it--it means I've been eating adventurously. I think it came from some homemade samosa things deep-fried to a flaky perfection with mashed potatoes, veggies and spices inside, but maybe from the ice or water in a tangy but unidentifiable pink drink. Both things my expat companions shied away from; both things went in (and came out of) my gullet fast. Ha! Sorry. Its really nothing out of control , no worries.

I think it did take its toll on me a bit though, because last night I slept from 1800 to 0600 straight. By this morning my poor foam matress was indented so much by my body, it felt like I was climbing out of a canoe!

Going to watch the Germany-Argentina game at the Germany Embassy compound. Should be fun and crowded, and they have a nice restaurant there, projection screen outside, and the best beers. I realize it may not be the best place to be if Germany gets beaten. Is beer as tasty if its shared with crabby Germans?
(Photo at left of George and I. Might be seen better if open in new window.)

Hope you all are having fun!
I'll be here in Kabul until I fly to Pak on Monday.

UN Heaven

Ok, ok, that was admittedly lazy blogging to just put up 4 photos in the previous post. I've changed it now.

Tonight was a party for one of our best midwife trainers, who is leaving after a year and half of work up here in Jalalabad. She's next to me; on the left is another IMC HQ person; the lady in the white works with jailed Afghan women and women's prison guards.

Nangahar province borders Pakistan, and its very religious. ALL women are in burkhas, no matter what; beating and jailing your wife is normal and accepted; i met a doctor today who said she must have 18 children because that's what her husband insists. One a year for 18 years. (She is in her 4th year of marriage and is at 40 weeks with her 4th child.) We joked about family planning, but it hurts my heart.

Maybe i'm getting softer in my old age, but i was also almost in tears while touring Sheik Mesry returnee camp for Afghans who were previously living in Pakistan. It is one of the harshest places I have ever seen, and its where the government designated for thousands of returnees. Its about 25 minutes outside of Jalalabad on the wildest drive that I have been on in a long long time. Our Afghan driver was manhandling that Land Cruiser up and down rocky passes and through not quite dried-up river beds. It was so fun I couldn't stop shrieking and laughing. But the township itself is so sad, and it boggles the mind what people are forced to live with (and without.) It is the epitome of desolate and harsh. We run an outreach clinic there 2x/week (photo.)

I wasn't so generous with the photos at the public ceremony beforehand. With men, I just don’t like it, I feel like a zoo animal. They kept sneaking up to me with their cameras so I wrapped myself up like a ninja too, and put on my big sunglasses. I suppose I should be more gracious, or even magnanimous, but I just get creeped out.

We went back to the Kunar province office for lunch. I eat like a man now, I swear. I am so famished by lunch time! Had a whole plate of lamb, an amount of bread that could feed a family, oily but delicious greens, spicy potatoes, melon, pepsi, and a watery yogurt drink I didn’t even like. Oh, and my muscles are seriously atrophied--I feel them twitch as they die. But, I don’t seem to be gaining any weight. I like this life so far… But, I'm sure building back my running endurance in the oppressive summer heat of DC will be as painful as pigging out here is pleasing. Can't wait.

Here's a photo I call Come Mister Taleban, Tally Me Banana....(daylight come and me wanna go home.)

I'll be back in Kabul soon and then to similarly hot Pakistan next week. I don't want this trip to ever end! Its put a fierce travel bug back in me, so consider yourselves warned....

Bye!

How are these photos connected ? (winner gets a burkha)

(The competition is off, since I gave all the answers in the subsequent post and am now pasting them here. But, if you want a burkha let me know and i'll pick on up for you.)

I'm staying in Jalalabad, at the UN guesthouse (photo.) It is like heaven on earth (and the place i will disappear into contented oblivion, if i ever need to.) Its got brilliant people from all over the world, an inside and poolside bar, all the delicious food and fruit you can eat, a gym, air conditioning, daily laundry service, green space and a garden, a dartboard in my room, and theatre TV for World Cup games. (i can't wait for the brazil-france game.) Diving in the pool after 10 hours in 120F weather is my new favorite feeling.

This is an aerial photo from the UNOperations/World Food Program plane to Jalalabad (same one i'll probably take to Peshawar, Pakistan.) Jalalabad is the largest city in the eastern region province of Nangahar.

The third photo is of Bernard, from Uganda, and his box of Ugandan vodka made from bananas. Inside the box are little plastic pouches of 60 ml--perfect for a cocktail, and highly transportable! Didn't I say these people were brilliant?

Fourth photo of the previous post is of the 76 midwives who graduated from the Institute of Health Sciences today, trained by us. The ceremony was held at the Council of Tribal Elders which was very nice. The women all showed up in burkhas, but took them off and assumed the ninja position. We later had a private reception for them and their female family members , and it was total chaos. Regardless of the fact that no one knew who I was, I ended up presenting each one with a wrapped gift, shaking their hand, and saying Congratulations (in English—how stupid is that?). The director of the program was engrossed in keeping freeloading men from scarfing our lunch, so I stood in. But no midwife came up in order, I'd get bumrushed by 5 different women, and their families at one time. I'd hopefully hand the gift to the midwife in the group--she was usually getting gaudy garlands thrown around her neck, and confetti dumped on her head, then the family would grab me and we'd pose for a flurry of photographs. For SEVENTY-SIX people. I couldn't stop laughing. But, every one was excited and happy, it was a beautiful, joyous affair.

I DO do work here, I just don't write about it.

Went to Mass Sunday night at the Italian embassy-- people from everywhere! indian nuns, soldiers from all over, italians, tons of filipinos, french, africans, it was great. the priest spoke in italian, readings were in tagalog, french, and english. the filipinos ruled the choir--they manned the electric keyboard as well. some songs sounded like asian pop songs, which was also entertaining. i sat in the front row so got to see all the different ways people from all over the world take communion. all the soldiers piled their guns, helmets, and flak jackets up outside. it was hot as blazes in there, so thankfully, it wasn't a long Mass. the priest was wearing black standard-issue italian military boots, which also tripped me out.

Then we went to the international security assistance force (ISAF)--kind of akin the the Green Zone in B-dad, but much more international. Its the military HQ for all the forces here in Kabul. One soldier told me there are 32 countries represented, but the majority are the Brits.
Its so nice to go there, bc I can wear a tank top, go to the gym, get western food and snacks, play futbol and volleyball, and watch the World Cup games on a big screen in a huge bar, where beers are only ONE EURO! i went a little nuts.

And last night was so fricking hot, with no breeze, i couldn't sleep at all. I can only open one window since one side of the house has constant reekage of sewage. I have other funny things to tell you about the guesthouse but i'll do it later and post pictures along with.

Tonight we went to this great French restaurant in Kabul. It was so delicious and such an amazing atmosphere. Its outside with all kinds of fruit trees and foliage, and lights and candels, full bar, big projector screen. That game-deciding foul in the italy-aus game pissed me off, by the way. But, I've finally found my haven! (besides the ISAF.) Tons of young expats from all over the world, speaking all kinds of European languages (and chain-smoking), cocktails, really great food, and good music . There's even a pool, and they serve the best coffee in Kabul, supposedly.
Oh, in the photo is our security guy from S. Africa, a program manager from India, a roving operations lady from the LA office, and our finance guy from Kenya.

I'm going on a trip for a few days within Afghanistan, but I will probably have email access. I'll let you know how it went and share photos afterwards.
Talk to you later.

My Saturday

Swaddled. At an ultrasound unveiling for the maternity hospital.

Fotos

Here are some Kabul photos. I have tons, so let me know if you want to see more. Why the underline? I don't know. I can't change it.


Anyway, Itake most pictures from the car, since I would not feel ok whipping it out on thetreet. So I've learned to take photos really quick, like at a huge pothole, security checkpoint, or traffic jam. (which is why there's a strange glare, sorry.) We were stuck behind this Pakistani tanker for a bit, so I got to catch this cutie:

There is only one IT person in all of Mac-istan and she is traveling from Geneva to the Bahamas. Hopefully later the underline and the foto layout problemas will be rectified.)

I am eating more than mangoes, Mom

Hi All,
I want to say thanks to my aunt patti for making me sound like a slacker. The McCarthy's are a tough bunch, they are. Well, today I also slacked since Friday is the weekend. We went to the house of one of the hospital directors, which was a big honor (she was hand-picked by Karzai.) Here's a picture of the lunch she cooked for us. And this wasn't even all of it. I couldn't fit it in the frame. It was outstanding. I ate so much but really I couldn't fit in ma belly more than a bit of everything. Her littlest son did this cute handwashing thing beforehand. He had so much personality I couldn't believe it--jesturing and entertaining us like a professional comedian.

We were all sitting on floor so thankfully, I could just lie back on the comfortable pillows to digest and enjoy the company. The Afghans told stories about the Taleban--some funny (now), and some just terrible. Its been interesting to see how some of our western-dressing local staff looked during the Taleban years--with the turbans and beards they were forced to wear. They would have scared me then, but now I drop by their office for a chat and a laugh. Tells you something (you already knew) about appearances.... Here's our lunch group. In case you can't spot me, I'm on the right.

After lunch we went to the Hotel Intercontinental. I used to treat myself to an evening there in Jordan sometimes, or just sit on their veranda and smoke the hookah with friends. It later got car-bombed. (I think I have a knack for frequenting places that later get bombed--like the UN HQ in Iraq and some hotels in Baghdad.) I bought the full-on long shirt, pajama pants, and matching long scarf. I'll try to send a picture for you to laugh at. And I got some other long shirts and a bag, all made by Afgan refugees living in Pakistan. There were so many gifts I wanted to buy for everyone, but I'd need a whole trunk to take it home. Which wouldn't be all that difficult, except that I have to fly on a small ICRC plane to Pakistan first. I'll get stuff for you guys in Paksistan instead.
Here's a photo of the lovely Kabul mountains. Next post will be all photos so you can get a better idea of what the city is like.
Besos, Ciao.