Thanksgiving

Yeah, I know, there are millions of U.S. bloggers putting up their own version of Thanksgiving Day, what it means to them, some waxing rhapsodic, some blurring the line betwixt and between pathos and bathos, some just giving a laundry list of the impressive things they have or soon will have eaten on this day. Is my version any different? No. It is, however, mine, and as this blog is all about my narcissistic self, I don't see any reason to deviate from that formula.

In the past few years, even when overseas, I have been around a large enough critical mass of Americans that we are able to scrounge up a turkey and then some. This time last year I baked a pumpkin cheesecake (I am a pretty decent cook, just don't like to do it that often) which we had at a friend's place (Brian, I am thinking about you and yours -- hope you all are well). Lots of food, companionship, some good Australian wine (red for me, thanks), in all a pleasant day. The other Thanksgivings have, mirrored that pattern, with more or less people (and more or less food), thrown into the mix.

I did not expect much this year. The critical mass of Americans is not present here at Kiwi Base, at the PRT in Bamyan. The Kiwis have done a great job in being gracious hosts, but this is their shop, and they do things their way. (Work will largely shut down if there is an All Blacks' rugby match tomorrow. You should've seen the place when NZ played England, the top two teams in the world, last week.) Since we don't procure or prepare our own food, I expected another nice meal of lamb, roast, broiled peppers, waxy beans, salad, and some dessert in a big stainless steel serving tray. Note: I am NOT, repeat, NOT complaining about the food! They guys do a great job here. It's just that the usual good stuff would not be, well, Thanksgiving good stuff. You know.

More to the point, this group of Kiwis is engaged in its endgame. They will be departing soon, and turning things over to Crib 7. (No, I don't know why they call it a Crib -- I also don't know why in the diplomatic corps we are organized into cones. Sometimes it is better not to ask, and just crack open another beer.) The advance party for the new Crib was coming on Thursday, so everything was about getting the camp ready for handover.

Once we heard the advance party was close, we began doing our powhiri practice, the kapa haka greeting/challenge that Maori warriors give to visiting tribes. (I think I described this ritual in an earlier entry. If not, I am sure I will mention it again.) It was COLD! Here it is, dusk, the temperature is dropping faster than a four-year old holding fine china, I can't feel my extremities (don't go there), and all we are doing is WAITING. Military life involves a lot of waiting around, hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. At this stage, we will be lucky if the food is even warm, never mind what it actually is.

The vanguard of the advance party arrives (vehicle issues have delayed the rest). We do the haka (I still don't have all the moves down cold, but I did have the scary tongue and eyes going well), there are speeches by our Commander and their Commander in Maori, (could've been in English, I still would not have heard them), we greeted everybody, men nose to nose, women pecks on the cheek, the whole nine yards. (Aside: I understand that the phrase comes from when 50 cal. machine gunners would go through their entire bullet string. The string is 27 feet long, hence, the whole 9 yards.)

Ok, can we at least get in line for chow now? Well, the Kiwis have not forgotten the day. They are letting the Americans get in line first, which, given that the patrols are back in and these guys EAT, is a nice touch.

Turns out, we are not in a line at all, but have our own table set up. Then the piece de resistance -- Houston, we have bird!!! Holy moly, they managed to track down some turkey. (I suppose in retrospect it is not that surprising -- Bamyan does not have the critical mass of Americans, but Bagram Airbase certainly does, and that is where all the food transits.) And did a heluva job with it, too! Most of us all remember Aunt XXX's turkey, pretty, but like the Mojave on the inside. I usually eat dark meat so I don't have to face that disappointment. Here, even the white meat was juicy!! I am just so impressed. We did a number on that bird, although nothing like that woman who won the turkey eating contest on Wednesday. (Some 100 lb. woman is the #2 ranked competitive eater in the world, she ate an entire 10 lb. turkey in under 12 minutes. I'm scared.) They even managed to come up with pumpkin and pecan pie!! As the Southerner, I had to go for the pecan, but neither one lasted very long. I have to give the Kiwis their props -- they rolled out the red carpet for us in a big way, and did it right.

So, what am I thankful for? Umm, the food, obviously. :) Ok, switching gears, I am thankful I have a wonderful, beautiful wife to share my life journey with (at least, after this year, that is), who can put up with my various insecurities and BS. I am thankful that my friends and family, after so much trauma and heartache this year with Rita and Katrina, seem to be ok. Not a great year for lots of Louisiana natives, but we all know we are better off than some of our fellow citizens. I am thankful I have my health (I'm not in the kind of shape I want to be in, yet, but I keep getting better). I am thankful to all the men and women in uniform, from all the nations, who are out there on the line this day protecting us. Perhaps more than anything else, I am thankful I am out here with a military force that cares about its own, whether its own are Kiwi, Brit, Aussie (well, maybe not so much the Aussies!), Afghan, and yes, even Ugly American. Today I am part of the Bamyan PRT family. Sure, it sounds corny, but it is true. This place is home.

Here's hoping your Thanksgiving went well, wherever you are. Peace.

Shanghai Interlude

Yes, just like I said, I was incommunicado for the past few weeks. There was a stretch for two weeks where I had good internet access, and could've written tons of stuff, when I was visiting my wife MaLan in Shanghai. Did I do that? Nah.

The trip was a good one, and came at a good time. The work in Afghanistan is great, and always interesting, but not exactly easy. We work every day except Friday (and we've worked the last 3 Fridays, so even that is no longer sacred), and it begins to wear on you.

Anyway, I got my flight from Dubai to Shanghai (after being couped up in the Dubai Airport for beaucoup hours -- the UN flight arrived in Dubai around 10:30 a.m., and we left for Shanghai at 1:45 a.m. the next day). I was primed. Emirates has a reputation for the best food and some of the best service of any airline. I also had an emergency exit row, so I had leg room. Cool! I'm ready to go.

Maybe Emirates is the best thing since sliced bread, but if it is, then they keep the good stuff for the beautiful people, because in coach it is a different story. A lot of my beef with the flight was with the plane. (I am not a fan of Airbus -- call me an obnoxious American, but if you put an Airbus next to a Boeing plane the same age, Boeing will win every time, hands down, in my mind.) Let's see . . . the TV did not work. The chair did not go back. The reading light did not work. The traytable would not come out (front row of a section, no backseat to which I could attach a traytable). There was no place to put anything (no seat pocket, same reason). The food was decent, but I hardly noticed it, with the constant rings for Service that popped up. This is not an exaggeration -- in the first HOUR of our 9+ hour flight, I heard someone call for an attendant over a hundred times. (I did not count the first ten minutes or so, but once they started coming in rapid fire succession, 5 or 6 at a pop, I began counting. What else could I do, since I could not read, watch TV, and can never sleep on a plane. After 50 minutes, the poor attendants had been rung up 127 times.) I am not sure if I can extrapolate that to the passengers, who were predominately Arabic in appearance. Somebody would likely call me racist or something like that for thinking this way. Many of the passengers did not look like people who traveled frequently, that much I can say for sure. The return flight was more of the same, fortunately with slightly fewer mechanical flock ups. Bottom line, if given the choice, Singapore Air or Cathay Pacific anytime, thank you very much. :)

Ok, after the Larry David-esque aggravation of the flight, I arrive in Shanghai. There I get to enjoy one of the few perks left to U.S. diplomats -- the diplomat line at immigration and customs. The Pudong International Airport (Pudong is the new, built-up side of Shanghai, on the other side of the Huangpu River) is hopping (never seen it when it isn't, honestly), and immigration can easily take you 30-45 minutes. Me? Try 3. I am going to miss this perk when I'm back in the real world!

My wife picks me up (ok, not exactly -- she and the driver were still on their way to the airport. I had no way to contact her, save to buy a phone card, but I did, and the pay phone worked fine.) Anyway, she arrives, music comes up, hugs, kisses, few more hugs, you know. Then the hour-long cab ride back to Shanghai and her place. You'll pardon if I skip details here, fellow readers. :)

Shanghai is . . . well, civilization, I guess. Nice cars, shopping malls, restaurants (including KFC, Mickey D's, and, new to me in China, Burger King). It was wonderful. All with a Chinese flavor, of course. (You won't find foot massage parlors on every other street corner in New York, and the ones you do, well, they probably do more than just massage therapy!) It was sensory overload. What's probably more surprising to me is how quickly I got back into the urban routine, and walked away from my good habits here (exercising every day, sometimes twice, avoiding junk food, by way of example). It was nice just to collapse, as it were, physically, and mentally.

My wife was working throughout the week (she's a high-powered Executive with L'Oreal), so I was largely left to my own devices, meaning, walking around the neighborhoods, doing some shopping (needing more winter clothes in a big way), eating, checking out exhibits at the local museum, eating, getting a foot massage, eating . . . see a pattern here? Shanghai has hundreds of high end restaurants. The Western restaurants were decent, although really pricey for what they offered. The Chinese food, not surprisingly, was superlative, especially the Guizhou and Hunan cuisine (the do some frog's legs and fish . . . maw? that were beyond description, and numbing hot), where everything was spicy and smoky-flavored. We skipped traditional Shanghainese cuisine, with the exception of the xiao long bao (hope I spelled that right), or soup dumplings, which have soup encased in small dough packets. My favorite Chinese food, push comes to shove, are the simple things, fresh noodles and fresh dumplings. The rest of Shanghainese cuisine is heavy, sweet, and usually involves pork. It's not a problem for me, but MaLan does not do pork. Just think what it means to be in China and you can't or don't eat the pork, or anything made with or flavored by pork.

We did have weekends to ourselves, and took a couple of short trips, one to a small village about 90 minutes outside of Shanghai, called Xitang. It is a beautiful place, reminding me of all of those lush Chinese movies about China (FYI, the rest of the country does not look like a Zhang Yi Mou film, if you have not already guessed). One older Australian lady also there said (use your worst Aussie accent here -- criky!), "Finally, Ah can see sumthin' in Chyyna that looks lak ah imagnnd it woold." We also took a weekend north to get some good Korean food, rocking Sichuan food (they do a poached white fish in chili oil that is beyond my capacity to describe), Uighyr (that's the name of the Central Asian Muslim minority in Xinjiang Province, the one that shares a border with Afghanistan) hotpot, and whatever else took our fancy. I did not eat as much, quantity-wise, as I do in Bamyan, but I bet I gained more weight. Yikes.

Arrgh, I keep trying to upload pictures, but this Blog seems deadset against them now! Sucks. :P Blogger.com was so good about that before, I am not certain what is the issue these days. Oh well, if you want to see the pictures, I guess you'll have to visit me at some point. I'll have everything on a flash drive. ;)

After almost two weeks (a fortunate confluence of events -- originally it was only supposed to be 7 or 8 days), it is time to return to reality, or at least my current version thereof. I did NOT want to leave. Guess that's a good thing, that I miss my wife more and more. If the reverse were true we would be in for some tough times or worse. At some point we are going to have to try and live together! ;) A long, slightly better flight, 5 hours stuck in no man's land, between leaving the nice, new Terminal 1 in Dubai and going to the afterthought Terminal 2 where the UN flies, 3 days in Kabul (including one stuck at the Kabul Airport, sitting on the plane, when the pilot tells me he can't fly), and it is return time to Bamyan. More on that later.

Been a While . . .

Hello Sports Fans!

Hope everyone is doing well. I have been in hiatus for quite a while now, for a host of reasons, some good, some not so good. October was a challenging month to use the Internet at all out here. We were off line for almost 3 weeks solid (should I really be surprised at this, being in the middle of Afghanistan? Nope.). After that, I was in Kabul for a conference, and then in China visiting my wife, getting reacquainted with married life. Shanghai is an easy city for foreigners, it really is. :)

I've actually been back in country since November 8, and back in Bamyan since November 11, but I just have not had the heart to get back into this. The workload has been crushing (moreso than before), and the change of seasons (I'm not sure if this qualifies as fall or winter, but it continues to snow here), all have made me pretty un-motivated. It was not until today, Thanksgiving Day for us American-types, that I finally had the time and inclination to do a little blogging for all of you.

Apologies to the 3 or 4 of you who read this with any regularity. I should be getting back into the swing of things more and more, especially with small milestones coming up -- the Kiwi team handover, real @#$%^* cold winter notes, Christmas (or what passes for it in a Muslim country), and a few other tidbits here and there. For some reason the pictures I keep trying to load don't want to be part of this, so I will just have to describe what I see with words.

Take care, out there, and enjoy your holiday season everyone. For those of you who are safe, be thankful for that. For those of you in harm's way to keep the rest of us safe, thank you. For those of you still recovering from the hurricane season, don't lose hope or faith (I wouldn't put too much faith in FEMA, mind you). Life will turn around, one way or another.

Peace.