Backlog backblog #1: Dubai and Flight to Kabul

I didn't get to my friends in Dubai that I wanted to. A few Lebanese guys who were our neighbors in Baghdad made millions there and now live in Dubai. These were the ones that built us IMC women (photo of Sarah, Amanda and me) a pool in their front yard so we would hang out over there more often. I know most of you already know that story, but I don't think I ever had any pictures to show you (thank you mandarino.) Its nice, eh? No photos of the amazing waterballet routine amanda and i perfected, but at least you can see in the background evidence of the international water polo grudge matches that went on between staff.

Anyway, got relegated to the small terminal at Dubai airport (although the Duty Free was just as impressive) where the little planes fly to Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, etc. It was actually nice to hear Arabic again. I really like it and it was fun to know what what gates they were talking about when they'd announce it in Arabic--since I was making little headway with Russian and Azeri. The flight to Kabul had all the usual suspects: the lifelong NGO workers with their somewhat local garb but expensive travel gear; the UN workers with their vest and backpacks; US contractors with buzzcuts harking back to their military days; turbaned men in robes; Korean business men in suits; and ones I couldn't classify if I tried.
Here's the plane:
It was really comfortable on the airplane and the european flight attendants were sweet, but the contrast from yesterday's flight made me chuckle. Instead of oily but yummy curried beef/chicken with red wine and vodka, we got 2 whitebread sandwiches with no crust and some white mush salad in the middle (i guess i'm NOT eating just anything these days) and juice. and some brown biscuits for dessert. And while it was nice to have to three seats to myself, I was kinda missing the Russian lady's big tush on my leg....

But, the flight was great. I think I just love traveling, or being in transit, I should say. Everything is fleeting and exciting, and you're somewhat unreachable and unstoppable, and responsible for nothing--for some reason that just makes me happy. One my favorite transits was being in a tiny, tin can of a plane flying over and between the soaring snowy Himalayas in Nepal. But being in a stinky filthy overnight bus in southern Bolivia was just as fun. The only time I hate being in transit is the x-country flight to SF. Then, four/five hours drives me mad since I can't ever wait to be on the ground and start the fun.

Flying into Kabul was cool too. Sprawling city of 4 million (? fact checker?) surrounded by mountains. Next post I'll put more about Kabul itself and show you where I'm living. Here's a photo from the plane.