Just got back from a short vacation in Dubai. MPRI encourages us to take leave and get out of Afghanistan every ninety days or so, and I intend to take advantage every time.

Tuesday, 4/17/2007

Worked until about noon, then Dana drove me to the Afghanistan airport in Kabul. Had to go through a security checkpoint before entering the airport where they frisked us & the driver, and inspected my luggage. Then, amazingly enough, we were passed through to Lot 1. There are three parking lots at the airport, numbered from closest to farthest, 1 to 3. Normally ordinary folks are only allowed into Lot 3, where they have to drop off or wait for passengers. Lot 3 is unpaved, unmarked, and surrounded by barriers and concertina wire. I carried my luggage into the airport and had to pay about $20 in tips (bribes) to get through ticketing and into the waiting area.

Funny thing about Ariana Afghan Airlines, we were seated by nationality and sex. Whenever possible, they try to seat the foreigners together and the women together.

I saw someone on the flight that I thought I recognized, but couldn’t quite place. Then I noticed he was with two guys carrying TV cameras with CNN tags. He was a reporter who’s name still escapes me, but I’ll figure it out and edit this later.

Noticed some scraping and wobbling noises during take-off that made me think there was a suspension problem with the landing gear, but we landed safely at Dubai International Airport so that’s someone else’s problem now.

Got to the hotel, the Arabian Courtyard Hotel & Spa, and unloaded. Had a few beers with some Spaniards from Pamplona at the hotel bar, a man and his Mom. I asked if he ever ran with the bulls and he sheepishly said yes. Then Mom told me that she would never allow him to because it was too dangerous, but one day she was looking in the newspaper and there he was, running from the bulls. Bad boy.

Then I went to pickup Julie from the airport. Her flight was three hours late so I got to hang out with Arabs, Indians, Pakistanis, and a myriad of other nationalities I can only guess at. Finally she arrived and we went to the hotel. At this point, the daily journal ends due to mature content…

Wednesday, 04/18/2007

We treated ourselves to 80-minute massages in the hotel spa, and walked across the street to the Dubai Museum. The museum is an old fort in the heart of old Dubai. They had displays of how Dubai used to be, mostly poor Arabs living in houses made of palm branches. Fish and dates were staples of their diets. The primary industry was pearls, before oil was discovered in the sixties. The museum was informative and entertaining.

We also found this neat little art gallery. Mostly paintings, all of the art was, of course, of the middle east.

That night we went to the Western Steakhouse at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. We had a nice bottle (two bottles, actually) of Merlot, escargots sautéed with butter & garlic, I had a juicy t-bone steak and Julie had a rib-eye and lobster tail. It was delicious. Then we hit the hotel bar and closed it down.

Thursday, 04/19/2007

Low-intensity day. Not only was Julie wiped out from the time change, but we were both nursing hangovers from last night’s activity. We mostly stayed in the room and enjoyed each other’s company. We did venture up to the hotel pool for a few adult beverages, but not any farther than that.

Friday, 04/20/2007

The plan was to go to the beach this day. We were up and getting dressed, I bent over to tie my shoe and got a terrible, stabbing pain in my back. I don’t have a history of back problems, but I must have twisted just the wrong way because it hurt like Hell. We had the Desert Safari and BBQ Dinner scheduled for that night, but moved it to Sunday and scheduled a dinner cruise instead. The hotel was very close to Dubai Creek, which is really a large inlet from the Arabian Gulf. We got on a boat called a Dhow, cruised up the creek, had a delicious dinner, and generally enjoyed the views of Dubai at night from the creek. It really is a beautiful and interesting city. At dinner, we were introduced to Omm’Ali, which is a traditional Egyptian Bread and Butter Pudding.

Saturday, 04/21/2007

Had the Dubai City Tour planned for this day. Luckily for us, because of the tour company’s timing/bookings, we got out our own van and tour guide. A lovely woman from Sri Lanka was our tour guide and a surly dark-skinned man from Eritrea was our driver. We saw most of the city while she pointed out sites like palaces and other attractions, including the Sheik’s palace. While we weren’t allowed to go into the Sheik’s palace grounds, the entrance is a tourist attraction. Beautiful landscaping and lots of peacocks. Part of the tour was stopping at a spice market and the gold souk. “Souk” means market. Gold is relatively inexpensive in UAE and sold by the weight. I dropped some serious cash on a ring for Julie.

Finally made it to the beach. We wanted to go to the Burj Al Arab Hotel, which is a landmark multi-million dollar hotel built on a man-made island in the Gulf, and shaped like a giant sail. Rooms there go for $2,000 to $7,000 per night. But non-guests need a reservation at the restaurant and specific attire to get in. So we settled for Jumeriah public beach instead. Nothing particularly noteworthy there, but I took a nap and got sunburned while Julie walked the beach. On the way back to the hotel we stopped at Harley-Davidson of UAE and got some t-shirts.

After the beach, we decided to see a movie. Now keep in mind that I am a pseudo-movie buff and for the last three months all I’ve seen is either grainy old re-runs on Afghan TV, or poorly focused pirated movie DVDs from the bazaar. So dammit I’m going to the movies. We went to the Emirates Mall which has an indoor ski slope, had a drink in a swank new age bar, did some window shopping and people watching, and saw 300. Not too complicated of a plot, but the visual effects were stunning.

Sunday, 04/22/2007

Today is the day we rescheduled the Desert Safari and BBQ Dinner. But it didn't start until later in the day so we had some time to walk around and do more sight-seeing. Then back to the hotel and I scheduled another massage for my aching back while Julie went to the pool. At least that's what I thought...but first she walked over to that art museum we found earlier and bought a very cool painting for me. It was a scene with a mosque that we could see from our hotel room window, only it was from the opposite viewpoint--from the creek.

Later our driver picked us up for the Desert Safari. It started out with “sand bashing” which was four-wheeling on the dunes. I really didn’t expect too much, but it was a blast! We were picked up in a Toyota Land Cruiser with a roll bar. We stopped to get another couple & their beautiful 5-year old daughter. They were from Italy and only Dad spoke English so he did all the translating. We drove out to the dunes and learned that our driver was the senior driver for the company and trained the other drivers. He took us up & over progressively bigger dunes and performed maneuvers that were breathtaking. At times I just knew he was going to kill us all but he made it look simple.

Then we stopped on a high dune next to some rock outcroppings and watched the sunset. The rocks were purple, and light. I’m guessing it was a sort of lava from an ancient volcano or something.

After the sunset, we drove to a site set up like an ancient Arab settling. There were some camels to ride, and Julie (International Woman of Mystery), rode hers like a pro. Then we went inside. There were different stations set up: first we had some fried dates, then found the bar and ordered some drinks (I didn’t expect that!), and Julie got a Henna tattoo on her hand. We then had some appetizers. I don’t know what it was exactly, it was like a goat meat and Hummus burrito, but it was good. Then we were seated on rugs & pillows at low tables for the buffet dinner. Rice, vegetables, Hummus, bread, lamb, chicken, beef, and more Omm’Ali. Then belly dancers came out to perform. They encouraged spectator participation, and the little Italian girl was adorable. Julie (International Woman of Mystery) also wowed the crowd with her undulating.

Monday, 04/23/2007

Julie’s day of departure. We walked down to the creek for some sight-seeing. Happened across another museum, this one was an old Sheik’s house that was restored and most of the museum was a collection of photographs. Browsed around the textile district and went back to the room to pack. Surprisingly, everything Julie brought, plus the stuff we bought, all fit in her suitcases! Went to the airport and, sadly, departed until my next leave. I’m planning to go home in July.

As I left the airport, I asked the taxi driver to take me to the mall with the most movies. Turns out that was the Chinese mall, way across town. The mall was interesting, all in oriental motif with a Chinese junk (boat) in the lobby. I saw The Reaping, which was better then I expected, and then went back to the hotel. The plan was for me to leave the day after Julie so I could see her off at the airport before I left, but I couldn’t get a flight for the 24th, so…

Tuesday, 04/24/2007

Slept in, had breakfast in the hotel, and went to the museum to look for a book about Dubai that Julie wanted. Then I went to the Centre City Mall in Deira. Did some window shopping, ate at a Lebanese restaurant in the food court, bought a watch, and found where the locals buy their clothes. There were several stores tucked away in a corner on the third floor. These we high end stores, men’s & women’s attire in separate stores. In the men’s stores they had those white robes, different colored and patterned headdresses, sandals, and accessories. In the women’s stores they had the black robes, black headdresses, veils, and accessories. Then I went to see Shooter. Incredible plot, but great action.

Monday, 04/25/2007

Up at 3:30 AM to get to the airport and through customs for my 6:30 AM flight back to Afghanistan. This would be a good point to explain that Dubai has two terminals. Most westerners only ever see Terminal 1, which is indicative of a world-class international airport. However, local flights (Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, etc.) arrive/depart at Terminal 2. A little rougher, grungier, and smellier, Terminal 2 started to remind me where I was going back to. We departed on time and I sat next to an individual that smelled like feet.

Interesting arrival. I had a window seat on the port side, so I could see when they rolled the stairs up to the plane. Immediately, about twenty high ranking ANA officers lined up on either side, creating a greeting line. They were laughing and joking and had flowers and photographers. An Afghan in civilian clothes was escorted off the plane to hugs and handshakes. I asked my feet-smelling neighbor if he knew who that was, and he said something about a former commander ruining the country. I asked “Taliban?” and he said, “No, before Taliban.” I asked “Mujahideen?” and he answered yes. Now I’m not sure if his English was that bad or if he was sympathetic to the Taliban, but I thought Mujahideen were the good guys, or at least before many of them turned Taliban.

I also had a revelation. The vehicle that carried me back to Afghanistan wasn’t a Boeing 727; it was a time machine. The last four hours transported me from 2007 back centuries. I was back to the dirty, crowded airport where I had to pay a $5 bribe to a policeman and $3 to a self-appointed porter to get my luggage. I walked out of the terminal past bundles wrapped in burlap which many of the locals were using for luggage, past more security, through dozens of dirty, bearded men, across a dirt “parking lot” bordered by concertina wire. Everything was the color of dirt. Alex was there to meet me, and our driver, Jon, took my bag. We got to the van, donned our body armor, and drove through the dusty, clogged, unpaved streets to our safe house. At the house, I changed into my MPRI uniform and we went back up Jalalabad Road to Depot-1 in time for lunch. Did I really leave or was that a dream?

Pics are posted here.

Out.

Did I say something about “normal” and “routine” in yesterday’s entry? Did I actually use those words?

We had an earthquake today. This morning, at about 8:00 AM, the ground shook. Not just a quick rumble like when a bomb detonates. This was a long, drawn out, variable shake that lasted about 30 seconds. No report like an explosion has.

So not only is the Taliban trying to kill us from above ground, but now Mother Earth is trying to kill us from below ground. God I love it here.

Just re-read what I wrote. Interesting that I can describe the differences between an explosion and an earthquake. Yep, just another normal, routine day at the office.

Out.

It was a beautiful day in Pol-e-charki today. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. I was standing in the yard at D-1 this morning talking to my wife on the cell phone when an armored HMMWV pulled up and parked right next to where I was standing. There was a loaded .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the gun ring (sunroof), the belt of brass-jacketed ammo glinting in the sun. Just another average day in paradise.

But later I almost got arrested. Well not really arrested. We were driving home, as usual at break-neck speed, dodging huge potholes and barely missing bicycles, carts, donkeys, and jungle-trucks. Troy was in the front seat filming the road. In a previous entry I told you about filming the drive to send home. Ramon, another MPRI employee, asked Troy to film the ride for him so he could send a disk home too. Ramon is a very loud and very opinionated Puerto-Rican that would probably explode if he had to stop talking for more than 30 seconds. Ramon is always in a hurry. Always. Think of an overweight (sorry Ramon), middle-aged Speedy Gonzales.

Much like I did a couple days ago, Troy filmed most of the route between D-1 in Pol-e-charki and our safe house near Camp Eggers in Kabul, about a 30 minute ride. He, of course, didn’t narrate with the same entertaining and informative candor as I did, but it was sufficient. Along our route there are many places where photography is prohibited. Inside the gates of D-1, for example, the American Embassy, the Ministry of Defense, and other secure areas. Troy would always turn off the camera and put it down when passing through those areas. However, one of the last turns on our return trip passes directly by the entrance to one such place and Troy did not immediately put the camera down. He wasn’t filming the entrance to the complex and we pass by it almost everyday without incident, so it was an understandable mistake. Understandable to us. But the armed guards at this particular installation didn’t see it that way.

In the middle of the road, our vehicle was quickly surrounded by Afghan guards armed with AK-47 assault rifles yelling at us in Dari. To our driver’s credit, Sharon rose to the situation and with vigor explained to the guards who we are and what we were doing. I’m spelling Sharon’s name like the name of a girl in English only because I don’t know how to spell it. Sharon is a 40-something male with two wives and eight sons. His name sounds like Sharon only the emphasis is on the second syllable.

The yelling went on for a while as Troy nervously tried to show the guards exactly what he filmed. Soon an English-speaking Afghan approached and we were able to explain the situation to him. Troy handed over the disk but they still didn’t let us go. Then an American, I suppose, who I think was a Blackwater operative, took control of the situation. He said normally they’d confiscate the camera but for some reason he let us go and let Troy keep his camera. It was at about that time when my heartbeat began its descent back to normal and my sphincter began to relax.

Then back to routine. Changed and went to the gym. Did 60 minutes on the elliptical machine while watching a Cold Case re-run. I had dinner at The Goat, which is the larger of the two chow halls on Camp Eggers, and walked home to watch a pirated copy of Breach. I fell asleep half-way through.

Out.