Meeting and Greeting

The U.S. Embassy in Kabul (in keeping with my theory about how an Embassy reflects the culture where it resides) is a fascinating, dynamic, chaotic, quick-moving place where things don't always happen as expected. I would attach some pictures, but I did not take any. If I took the wrong picture I could have my camera confiscated (for obvious reasons -- security is at a premium at Embassy Kabul).

The lay-out screams impermanence. (Well, that's not entirely fair. The new Embassy is a few months away from opening as we speak, and they have also built entirely new living quarters, which, from the outside at least, look great.) For now, everything it is a little bit like parts of home in Lake Charles -- trailer park motif. The offices, the living quarters, the cafeteria, the little shack selling booze, it's all trailers, all the time. I can't remember the name of the company in the Emirates that makes these things, but they are earning cash and then some with the USG.

My time in Kabul is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it is a gradual change from the States, which is really needed. The jet lag is awful, as the dry conditions and the altitude combine to make this below sea level kid strung out for the better part of a week. It also gives me a chance to beef up on my Afghan history and background, which is woefully inadequate (I am beginning to believe that I could stay here forever, and that background would STILL be inadequate.)

On the other hand, I feel a bit like OJ's gloves -- people like me, future or present PRT (that's Provincial Reconstruction Team) officers, don't quite fit here at this already idiosyncratic Embassy. Our wardrobe is pretty limited, for starters (typical Embassies require a suit and tie for most work. Even in Kabul, ties are de rigeur (hope I got that spelling right) for most folks. PRT types, who have thrown most of their possessions into a few duffel bags, are, well, scruffier (you've seen the picture from the previous blog, you know what I mean). Sort of walking advertisements for REI or Lonely Planet.) Consequently, when we are ensconced in Embassy confines, we don't quite fit in. This is by choice, mostly, but it makes for a strange time.

Not fitting in becomes something of a theme. For starters, I cannot seem to get a log-on to save my life. For whatever reason, the powers-that-be still believe (in e-land) I exist in Malaysia, my previous post. My physical presence apparently makes no change in this assessment. Nuts. Likewise, trying to get an Embassy ID, the new "worldwide badge" issued by the State Department, notwithstanding, is another trial of Job. In hindsight, these flubs are probably good training for me to work on flexibility and patience.

I have arrived at the same time as another PRT officer, who is destined first for Farah, in the southwestern corner of the country, and then off to Uruzgan province later. We both get the same round of introductory meetings -- the Finance Office (otherwise no salary -- a bad thing), the Med office (we're supposed to drink 4L of water a day, plus meals. Oh, and btw, don't eat any local produce. They inject the watermelons with water to make them heavier and can sell them for more, but the water ain't exactly pristine.), and anyone and everyone who might have some interest in our lives, from the U.S. Military (in all its permutations, and there are quite a few, let me tell you), to USAID (that's the Agency for International Development, the assistance agency which works with the Department of State), to the Afghan Reconstruction Group (a one of a kind entity, formed at the behest of the previous Ambassador Khalizad -- private sector experts volunteer to come to Afghanistan and lend their insight to the Government of Afghanistan, or GOA), and probably a few others I am forgetting (no, I did not meet with THEM. Get over it.)

After a few days, the heavens open up, and computer access is granted. I still cannot get an Outlook address, because of a Malaysian Ghost in the Machine (so they keep telling me -- I have more confidence in the IT techs in KL, to be completely honest), but I CAN use the internet, and that is my new lease on life. Looks like everything is ready; now all I have to do is catch a plane.