Rick in Afghanistan

2008-11-09T21:18:00.004+04:30

Goodbye Afghanistan.

It's Sunday night, my last night here. I'm leaving tomorrow. Unless something remarkable happens on the trip home, this will be my last entry.

I can't even think of anything interesting to say, and I've had a lot of time to think about it. I considered writing about my opinion of the progress we've made here, but it would be only a narrow view of my small part in the big picture. Instead I'll just cut to the bottom line: twenty years. I think it will take another twenty years before we make a difference here.

I've done my part for the war on terror. Now, unlike the courageous men & women in the military, I can go home and not look back. Our soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines will likely be back--either here or Iraq. Hopefully I've been able to make a small contribution in the last twenty-two months with MPRI in Afghanistan.

I'm going home to a new job in Dallas; to my beautiful wife Julie; to my family and friends; and to the safety, comfort, convenience, and civility of a modern society.

Fair winds and following seas, my friends.

Out.

2008-11-08T08:35:00.000+04:30

One of the team drivers, Abdul, and I have a running joke. I don't even remember how it started, but whenever one of us first sees the other we yell bachi-khar! Bachi-khar means "son of a donkey" and is a terrible insult. Our ongoing insult battle has evolved into exchanging made-up insults like bachi-shodi (son of a monkey), bachi-fil (son of an elephant), bachi-mahi (son of a fish), and others.

When I presented certificates last week, I made one special. Instead of "In grateful appreciation...blah, blah, blah..." on Adbul's certificate I wrote 'bachi-khar!" in the native language Dari, and included a picture of the donkey from "Shrek."

I win.

This morning my very first interpreter-translator (I've had four) Abdullah came by and presented me with a gift. Two Afghan outfits--one for me and one for Julie. If Julie and I ever immigrate to Afghansitan we'll be set for clothes, I think we each have three outfits now.

Disclaimer: I actually gave Abdul two certificates; a real one and this joke one. However, I think he treasures the joke certificate more.

Out.

2008-11-07T14:02:00.007+04:30

The goodbyes have started.

Earlier this week my driver, Shirin, gave me an Afghan coat that his cousin sent from Mezar-e Sharif.

On Wednesday we had a little ceremony at the depot. My whole team was there, the US military, the ANA, and our translators and drivers. First I handed out certificates to all the translators and drivers, thanking them for their service during my tenure. Afghans love certificates. The translators presented to me a leather wallet made in Afghanistan, and the drivers gave me a rug with the likeness of Massoud. My team gave me a beautiful Afghanistan coffee table book and a cake. I gave a little speech thanking them and telling everyone how much I treasure my time here.

On Thursday the other MPRI logistics team had a little event for me. They raised an American flag, then lowered, folded it, and presented it to me along with a certificate. Then we went to the pizza restaurant and they had a little roast for me. Most of my team was there too, and they brought another cake. The logistics team gave me an Afghan flag embroidered with my name and time here.

On Monday morning, I'll have the traditional ceremony along with a handful of other guys leaving on Monday and be presented a plaque by the MPRI Program Manager.

I still have a little work to do, but for the most part I'll be checking out for the next few days--turning in my computer, phone, uniforms, etc.

It certainly was an adventure. Part of me will always be in Afghanistan.

Out.

2008-11-04T22:43:00.006+04:30

God help us.

2008-11-02T11:36:00.010+04:30

I've been thinking about how to best wind down this blog. Yep, I'm leaving. I arrived in Afghanistan on Jan 7, 2007 and I'll be leaving for good on Nov 10, 2008. Which, coincidentally, is the Marine Corps' birthday.

I was looking back at some of my first entries to try to find something to tie this all up and provide some closure. My very first entry is here. However, all I'm finding is that my first few weeks here seem like years ago. Actually it was only twenty-two months. I also looked at some of the first pics I took with my crappy little camera. I remember thinking how exciting, dangerous, and adventurous the whole thing seemed. I even optimistically started a separate folder for Afghanistan pics here, and now there are thousands of pics in my Photobucket.

Is it still exciting, dangerous, and adventurous? Somewhat. I feel the need to start out by once again explaining that I am not a soldier. There are thousands of true American heroes here, men & women of the US armed forces, who face real danger everyday. If they read this they'd probably laugh. I'm just a contractor, living and working in the relative safety of the Afghan capital Kabul. However, compared to my former occupation and to the casual reader browsing this from the comfort and safety of his home or office in places like Rapid City, South Dakota or Irrigon, Oregon this is a dangerous place.

Just last week, the Ministry of Interior was attacked. Within walking distance from where many of us work and live, most of us didn't give it a second thought. Taliban attacked the guards while one of them ran in and detonated his suicide bomb. Five people were killed and the building suffered major damage. That day, just like any other day, I traveled with my team down Jalalabad road to the depot, we worked all day, had lunch, went back down Jalalabad road, I went to the gym, got a go-plate from the dining facility, and went to the house. Just another day.

Each day before we travel, we call the BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) for the road conditions. Alert conditions are set for each route according to the threat, which means the possibility of hostility. Amber means caution, Red means essential travel only, and Black means no movement at all. Our usual daily route is almost always Red--essential travel only. So on the way to work each day we're looking for possible threats such as vehicles that seem to be tailing us or trying to catch up to us; stalled, unoccupied vehicles; the absence of people/pedestrians (locals almost always seem to know when something's going to go down); and anything out of the ordinary. In addition, we instruct our drivers to drive like bats out of Hell, which they are happy to do. A moving target is harder to hit.

We have pre-prepared "accident cards" in each vehicle. If we should have an accident or wreck, we hand the card to the other driver and depart the area. Under no circumstance will we allow ourselves to be boxed-in or stranded. We always travel with at least two vehicles so if one becomes stranded we can get in the other one and get away.

You get used to it. Much like the cops who can stand around a gory crime scene telling jokes, you begin to get a little numb to the danger around here. I remember the first time I went home on leave. Julie picked me up at the airport (a six-pack of Shiner Boch waiting for me in the truck, God bless her). On the way down I-635 toward the house I remember feeling a little uneasy. We were in a lone vehicle, miles from "safety." I wasn't wearing body armor. There were no pedestrians. We stopped several times (for traffic lights). All of the overpasses seemed particularly threatening--good places for the bad guys to drop stuff on you--there are no overpasses in Kabul, probably all of Afghanistan.

It's going to be weird for a while when I get home.

2008-10-15T08:35:00.002+04:30

I climbed four of five guard towers at Depot 1 today and took pics. Click here to see them.

2008-10-14T08:28:00.001+04:30

Mr. Big Hands

I finally got a picture of Mr. Big Hands. He’s one of our guards at Depot 1. His real name is Abdullah and he’s originally from Salang, Afghanistan. We call him Mr. Big Hands for obvious reasons. He’s the biggest Afghan I’ve ever seen.

Look at his features. I suspect there’s some Cossack blood running through those veins. Remember the Soviet Union occupied this country from 1978 to 1989, right about the time Abdullah was born. Hmm…

2008-10-13T09:20:00.009+04:30

Per MPRI’s contract with the

government, the military is responsible for our life support. That means housing, food, medical, security, etc. We eat in the dining facilities and go to the medical aid stations aboard military installations like Camp Eggers and Camp Phoenix, etc. However, our living arrangements are a little different in Kabul.

There just isn’t enough room to billet everyone assigned to Camp Eggers. Of course, the military has priority. Although there have been some exceptions, for the most part, all US military assigned to Camp Eggers live on post. Most of the billeting consists of conex (shipping) containers converted to living quarters. Two soldiers share a 10X20’ space. Community showers/bathrooms are in separate buildings. With few exceptions (primarily KBR), contractors don’t live on Camp Eggers.

MPRI contractors live in the city; in houses we call “safe houses.” They are big homes converted to billet between twenty and thirty people. They have names like Falcon House, White House, and Big House. The houses are surrounded by hardened walls, HESCO barriers, concertina (razor) wire, and security guards. The security guards are locally contracted Afghans with AK47 rifles.

Most rooms in safe houses don’t have bathrooms, but there are usually one or two bathrooms per floor. Some houses have kitchens that are shared by the whole house, although most people hardly use them. There is usually one refrigerator on each floor, and many people buy small refrigerators for their rooms. Most windows are taped up and/or covered with Styrofoam in the winter to help insulate against the bitter cold. Windows to first-floor rooms facing the street are typically covered by a wall of sandbags for additional protection.

There are crates of bottled water stacked in a storage area or in the halls, along with an emergency supply of MREs. Some houses have common areas with couches and a TV. Each house has its own washer/dryers.

Staff are hired to clean the houses and rooms. They empty trash, clean the common areas, clean the rooms, and do personal laundry once a week.

Vehicles, mostly vans and a few SUVs, are parked at the houses. Drivers rotate duties throughout the week. Most of them are on-call; when an MPRI mentor needs to go somewhere, he calls the dispatcher and a vehicle meets him to take him where he needs to go. There is a driver on duty until 10:00 PM each night.

We have evacuation drills regularly. Every resident keeps a “bug out” bag with essentials handy in case of evacuation. A bug out bag usually has things like a change of clothes, toiletries, copies of essential documents like passport/visa and ID cards, flashlight, water, snacks, blanket, etc. During a drill, which can happen at any time, residents grab their bags, body armor, helmet, passport, and a blue chemlight. They meet for a quick head count and keys to the vehicles are distributed. The plan, in case of emergency, is for a military force protection unit to come to the house and escort us to a safe area like Camp Eggers, an ISAF (International Security Forces – Afghanistan) compound, or the US embassy.

Except for the security guards, sandbags, evacuation drills, etc., living in a safe house is a lot like living in a college dormitory without the beer, parties, loud music, and girls. Most of the MPRI contractors are over 40, many are over 50, and the work day starts early so the house is dark & quiet by 8:00 PM.

The water is pumped in from a well. The water is treated with chlorine, and sometimes the chemicals are so strong they cause your eyes to burn during a shower. You must use body lotion to keep your skin from drying out too much. Electricity is provided by huge generators that run on diesel and hum all night—except when they break down, which is quite often. When the generators go down, the water pumps stop too.

All in all, it’s not so bad. You tend to get into a routine. Some folks go to the rooftop after work and watch the kite fights during the day or look for rockets and tracers during the night. Some folks meet in the yard for a smoke and gossip before dark. Some go straight to their rooms and you don’t see them again until the next morning.

On Fridays, which is our day off, you’ll see people coming and going to the bazaars, ISAF compound (for their European dining facilities), or in to work. Some folks will grill, some sunbathe on the rooftop, and few guys even set up an archery range between the houses.

One day I’ll probably look back with fond memories on my time living in the safe house. Not right away, but some day.

Out.

2008-10-10T14:36:00.012+04:30

Family & friends often ask me about the trip from Afghanistan to Texas so I thought I’d explain. Of course this only applies to civilians like contractors; the military uses a completely different route.

First you have to get out of Afghanistan. You can’t go on Expedia or anything like that to get tickets; you have to go to a local agency or airline office. Most people fly to Dubai for the first leg, then make their next flights that were booked online. There’s only one airport to fly in & out of—the Kabul Afghanistan International Airport, or KAIA (pronounced like the automaker Kia). This in itself is an adventure.

First you enter the outer guarded gate to the airport and all traffic is directed to an area where the driver is questioned and the vehicle searched. Travelers must remove luggage from the vehicle and take them into a small office where they are x-rayed and often searched. Sometimes you are patted down and there is a separate enclosed area where women are patted down by female inspectors. Often the inspectors will find something harmless in your luggage and claim it could be used as a weapon. Five dollars takes care of that.

Then you load the luggage back into the vehicle for a short trip to one of the outer parking areas. Unless you have some sort of diplomatic or VIP pass, you can’t just drive to the terminal. Unload in the parking lot and carry your luggage about 100 yards through at least two more checkpoints to get to the terminal entrance. Along the way there are vendors, money-changers, beggars, taxi drivers, and hoards of people waiting for arriving passengers. They wait in the open parking lot because without an airplane ticket you can’t get within 50 yards of the terminal.

Once at the terminal, your bags are searched again and you are patted down. They let you in and you’re greeted by dozens of baggage handlers offering to assist and even take you to the front of the line—for a fee, of course. Inside it’s loud, dirty, and disorganized. Other people are motioning to you to have your luggage shrink-wrapped or banded—for a fee, of course. Stand in line for your ticket and go through another x-ray and search before you can go upstairs through customs and into the waiting area.

The waiting area is small, crowded, and the bathrooms are horrific. Planes are never on schedule, so you have to check in at least two hours early in case the pilot decides to board before the scheduled time. Be sure your connecting flight in Dubai is tomorrow morning, because there is no guarantee what time you’ll arrive. Last time I was there, out the window I could see snipers on the rooftop.

Finally your flight is announced and everyone crowds down a slim corridor outside to awaiting buses for a short trip across the tarmac to your plane. Off the bus and into a line where border police again check your tickets and passport. Women, especially women with children and women traveling alone, are escorted to the front of the line. Interesting thing, flight attendants will rearrange seating on the plane. Unrelated Afghan men & women are not allowed to sit next to each other. It’s a Muslim thing.

There are only a few commercial airlines that fly out of Kabul. Actually, it is more correct to say that there are only a few commercial airlines flying out of Kabul that are allowed to land in many other countries. Mainly because their maintenance is not usually up to western standards.

In the air, at first the view of the rugged and often snow-capped Afghan mountains is breathtaking. Once into cloud level, you settle in for the three hour flight. The in-flight meal is halaal. A halaal meal is one prepared according to strict Muslim protocol. I don’t know exactly what that means, but think of it as being similar to a kosher meal (meat has to be slaughtered/prepared a certain way, certain ingredients are used, etc.)

The Dubai International Airport is huge. There are three terminals. Flights from Kabul, the former Soviet Union, Iran and charter flights all arrive at Terminal 2. From there, you have to take a taxi to Terminal 1. I often get a room overnight if there’s enough time between flights, or go to a mall and catch a movie (or a hotel bar), or sometimes straight to Terminal 1. Terminal 3 is new and strictly for Emirates.

As far as I know, there’s only one direct flight from Dubai to the US and it’s a Delta flight to Atlanta. I usually fly American Airlines which means I go through London.

Interesting story about my trip through London one time. There are two airports in London; Heathrow and Gatwick. Once my itinerary had me landing in Heathrow and departing in Gatwick. Never having seen London before, I decided to take this route because I thought I’d at least get to ride from one city to another and see some sights. However, not only was the bus ride expensive (about $60), but the bus ride is down a highway and not very scenic at all. A few farms and commercial establishments, but we didn’t even go through a city. What a waste of time and money.

To leave one airport and go to another for international flights, you have to go through customs both arrival and departure. Not a big deal, I thought. However, at Gatwick while I was in line going through customs, I came to a young agent who was clearly new to the job. He checked my passport and upon seeing that I came from Afghanistan he became obviously nervous. He told me he’d have to talk to his supervisor and asked me to wait. I could see the two of them talking and looking cautiously my way. Finally the young lad walked up to me and whispered, “Sir, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but considering where you’re coming from…” as he quickly opened and closed my passport at waist-level and off to the side so only he & I could see “…we’ll allow you into the terminal but you’ll have to be searched before boarding the plane.” I almost laughed but instead leaned into him and told him in my best conspiratorial manner that I understood.

I lounged around the duty-free store for a while and ambled to the gate where, to my surprise, the same young man was waiting, with his supervisor observing from a short distance. He asked me to remove my jacket and boots as I placed my carry-on on the table. He so delicately looked through my bag that I had an almost irresistible urge to yell BOOM! but I contained myself. Then he proceeded to pat me down. Keep in mind that I had recently been patted down almost a half dozen times by tough combat-hardened Afghan soldiers and police. In comparison, this was foreplay. Then the supervisor said they’d have to take my boots & bag and put them through x-ray again, and asked me to please wait. I found a seat next to another shoeless and bagless guy. I asked him where he was coming from and he said, “Syria.”

I don’t think I’ll fly through Gatwick again.

Overall, the trip from Dubai to Dallas takes about twenty hours. Add in the total time from Kabul, overnight in Dubai, and the time difference, and the whole trip takes a little over two days. I gain a day from Kabul to Dallas and lose a day going the other way. Takes about two days to overcome the jetlag. Luckily I only have to do this one more time…

But that’s another story…

Out.

2008-10-05T13:00:00.005+04:30

I had lunch with the Afghans today.

Because of the remoteness of our work location, MPRI pays to have lunch catered for our drivers and interpreters. Once in a while, I like to walk behind the warehouse to one of the two buildings in which they eat, and join them. I think this helps foster a good working environment, but more importantly, I am able to test the quality of food being served and illustrate to the vendor that I’m watching.

Typically, it is delicious, although I have had a few reports of bad meat.

Today we had the standard naan bread and Afghan rice with carrots, raisins, french fries, and meat. There was beef kabobs, fresh vegetables, yogurt, fruit, and soft drinks.

Interesting side note. There is a TV in the small room where the drivers stay during the day and eat their lunch. After we finished eating, the news came on. It was in Dari so I don’t know what was being said, but they flashed pictures of Palin, McCain, and Obama. A small political discussion ensued with me and a roomful of Afghans. Keep in mind that the future of their country rides on this election. They were avid supporters of McCain, even though his running mate is female and they think Obama is a Muslim. Hmm…

2008-10-03T13:47:00.005+04:30

I recently returned from vacation in Dallas. This was my third trip home in twenty-one months. I had so much scheduled and so many honey-dos that now it all seems like a blur. Let me see if I can hit the highlights:

Julie met me at the airport. Went to the house and found my anniversary gift from her: a Texas-motif beer box full of ice-cold Shiner Boch beer!

We celebrated my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party with most of their family/friends at Casa Navarro restaurant. Mom cried at least twice so I guess it was a success.

Shane and Diane & Dave Luther came by the house one night to safety-test the beer box. We gave it a thorough workout by drinking as many beers as we could. Amazingly, it held up even under the superior beer drinking abilities of Shane.

Julie & I went on a trip to Virginia to visit some friends, Mike “Caveman” Stutzman and his new bride Joann. We went to the new Marine Corps Museum in Quantico, VA. We never made it to DC to see the sights (spent too much time at the infamous Command Post pub in Quantico), so Julie insists there really are no monuments.

Drank too much beer at Shane & Sam Thompson’s again. Dad “loaned” a keg cooler to Shane, and rumor has it that he singlehandedly finished off three kegs in three weeks. Sam and dad decided it was time to “unloan” the cooler. Chris Thompson really enjoyed some Cuban cigars—don’t ask me where he got them…

Had lunch with longtime friend Charlie Stone who lost 55 pounds since I last saw him.

Shane & I took his seven-year old son Mickey to the gun range to shoot some old .22 rifles. After a little instruction, Mickey did remarkably well. Do we have a future Marine Corps sniper in our midst?

I traded in my Dodge Ram for a 2007 Toyota Tacoma.

We had dinner with friends Ed & Gayla Fussell at Patrizio’s restaurant in Highland Park.

We took our adopted Afghan son Fida to Nate’s Seafood Restaurant one night. Another day we took him to the Texas State Fair and met real son Mike Jungen with some of his friends there. Fida had his first genuine corny dog and had his caricature drawn. Mike did his best to make Fida hurl by taking him on the scariest rides, but I’m not sure which one of them was scared the most.

Played with the dogs who were all happy to see me. Digger the wolfdog now weighs 89 pounds although he looks bigger. We had to rebuild the 4’ dog run fence because he could easily leap over it.

Julie & I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary. We didn’t do anything special, just the opportunity to be together was enough. Maybe in another forty-three years someone will throw a party for us.

Out.

2008-09-06T08:16:00.001+04:30

Please say a prayer for my 2-year old nephew Marcus, who was recently diagnosed with Leukemia.

2008-08-24T14:36:00.006+04:30

I was attacked by a wild dog today.

Well, actually a puppy. Mason, as he was named by the Navy personnel, lies in wait for me whenever I exit my office. Luckily, this morning I had sausages with which to distract him long enough to make my escape, but only after suffering some playful bites from his razor-sharp puppy teeth. Things are getting pretty dangerous around here...

Recently I learned that over a hundred new positions for MPRI were approved. I'm getting nine of them, eight of which will be mentors for Combat Service Support Kandaks (Kandak = Battalion) in Gardez, Kandahar, Herat, and Kabul. The ninth position is for someone to develop an automated logistics management system.

I read where Obama said "Let the market work... and then just tax the heck out of people at the end and just redistribute it." Comforting, isn't it, to know that a Presidential candidate thinks he should "tax the heck" out of us. Better yet, then he's going to "redistribute it." Redistribute to whom exactly, I wonder? Hmm... I guess you know how I'm voting.

Out.

2008-08-08T11:05:00.006+04:30

Today is Friday, our day off (Muslim weekend). I went to Camp Phoenix, worked out, played racquetball with Al Viera, another MPRI contractor who is a mentor to the Afghan National Army Air Corps. Then went to the PX, bought some Icy Hot for Shirin's mom and a Mocha Frappe for me.

Called LT Bruce Reilly, USN, the Depot 1 OIC (Officer in Charge), who lives at Camp Phoenix. He previously told me about some new Cougar MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicles he had been issued to replace the armored HMMWVs his crew uses to convoy to work.

LT Reilly gave me & Al a tour of the vehicles. They are awesome. Imagine a huge armored truck with a machine gun turrent, infrared cameras for night driving, joystick-operated searchlights, and room for seven including the gunner. I need one.

On a side note, I recently learned the Dari word for friend, rafik. Dari is very close to Farsi, and Dari/Farsi are very similar to the Arabic languages and share many words. Anyway, one day I was thinking about the Dari word for infidel, kafir, and it dawned on me: kafir sounds like rafik backwards. Hmm...

2008-08-01T12:09:00.005+04:30

Here's the announcement I wrote for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary:

Ernest and Pat Lanicek will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary with a private party for family & friends. Ernest and Pat met on a double-date (not with each other) at the defunct Keller’s Drive-in on Harry Hines Blvd, while Ernest was home on leave from the US Navy and Pat was in bobby socks and a ponytail. It was love at first sight. After a whirlwind romance, Ernest married the former Patricia Marie Harris at Saint Monica’s Catholic Church in Dallas, TX on August 16, 1958. They are the parents of Rick, husband of Julie, and Dan, husband of Kim. They have two grandchildren, Brendan and Sarah.

2008-07-29T17:01:00.006+04:30

I realized that I haven't written anything of substance in a while. I started this blog as a way to document my experiences as a contractor in Afghanistan, but after nineteen months I've kinda lost some steam.

I noticed in a few blogs I read that sometimes the authors simply put down a few random thoughts when they don't have anything in particular to discuss. Sometimes that is interesting to read, sometimes not. My favorites are survivalism blogs and some of them are:
Be a Survivor
Total Survivalist Libertarian Rantfest
SHTFblog.com
Getting Started in Emergency Preparedness

I also spend way too much time on the gun forum ar15.com.

So here are a few things, maybe interesting, maybe not.

My driver Sherin told me today that his uncle's wife was bitten by a cobra and had to have her leg amputated. His uncle (I think he uses that term for almost any male relative) lives in Panjshir. Panjshir is a beautiful valley. I wrote about it previously. As far as I can tell, there are wolves, lions, tigers, and apparently cobras in Panjshir.

Jim got back from leave today. Luckily Julio is on leave for a few more days so there is still some relative calm at the depot. Those two fight like a sack of cats.

Over the weekend one of the Afghan National Army (ANA) trucks at the depot was totaled. One of the civilian guards said he "found" a key on the ground, then "found" the Ranger it went to, then used that Ranger to make his rounds. During one of his rounds he accidentally hit a conex. These Ford Rangers are four-door, four-wheel drive, diesel trucks with heavy-duty suspension and bumpers. The bumper was pushed into the tire and it appears the frame was bent. I call BS on his story. Also, there was no apparent damage or scraping on the conex. Right.

I'm still doing crossfit. Today's workout of the day (WOD) was the crossfit total. That means one rep max on the back squat, shoulder press, and deadlift. I didn't do as well as I hoped, but I squatted 335, pressed 155, and deadlifted 315. Hmpf.

My parents' 50th wedding anniversary in a couple weeks. Wow. Fifty years. That's either true love or amazing tolerance. They're planning a trip to an all-inclusive resort in Mexico to celebrate. Good for them.

Last Friday I was walking aroung the house compound looking for a driver to take me to Eggers. I ran into a couple of guys who live in the next house shooting compound bows. They set up a range between the house and the wall. They were eager to tell me all about their sport and let me try one of their bows. Damn. Just what I needed--another hobby. I thinking about buying this one.

I'm also thinking about getting a ham radio license. Having a couple radios and knowing how to use them would come in handy if/when the SHTF (shit hits the fan), also known as TEOTW (the end of the world) or TEOTWAWKI (the end of the world as we know it). See survivalism links above...

That's enough for now.

Out.

2008-07-10T12:52:00.003+04:30

Puppies!

I've noticed recently, on the way to work, some puppies in a lot where unissued ANP vehicles are parked. Today on the way in, I saw them again and told Sherin to stop. I got out and the puppies all ran away, but momma kept a watchful eye on me. I tried to call them over but to no avail.

Ah, Strawberry's sausages. I pulled them out of my pocket and tossed a little piece. One of the puppies went for it. I tossed more, closer and closer, until the puppy would take them out of my hand. Eventually I was able to pet him.

The other three puppies kept their distance but momma wanted to see what I had. I tossed a few small pieces to the other puppies and the remaining whole sausage to the momma.

Sorry, Strawberry.

Out.

2008-06-30T17:34:00.002+04:30

Welcome to Afghanistan

When I first accepted this job over 18 months ago, I received an email from the MPRI Logistics Director, Laney Pankey, that ended with "Welcome to Afghanistan." Something about that simple little phrase sounded intimidating and ominous.

Now I'm a hiring manager and I've sent two similar emails to new hires. I plagiarized from that first email from Laney and left the spooky little ending "Welcome to Afghanistan."

I wonder what they thought when they read it...

Out.

2008-06-23T07:24:00.003+04:30

We took a group photo today. Here is the MPRI Materiel Control Team, ANA Central Supply Depot, Kabul, Afghanistan. Photo was taken at the Sergeant Major's Park on Camp Eggers.

From left to right:

Johnny Vaughan
Rick Lanicek
Charles Coffman
Phil Holguin
Troy Zimmerman
Marcus Stith
Jim Foster
Mark Orthman
Clyde McLaughlin
Reggie Tyus
Rudy Berrien
Sharon Corbin
Faith Humphrey
Greg Johnson
John Propst
John Davis
Julio Octtaviani

2008-06-07T12:49:00.003+04:30

Just finished the US Army Combat Life Saver (CLS) course. The course is not basic first aid, it is "first responder" lifesaving treatment for combat trauma. Over 2,500 soldiers died in Vietnam due to severe hemorrhaging (bleeding) and many could have been saved using the skills taught in this course.

It is mandatory for most of the units who convoy or "go outside the wire"—at least two CLS per squad. Each of our safe houses have at least one designated CLS and I volunteered for my house because I wanted the instruction.

The course objectives are as follows:
-Perform Tactical Combat Casualty Care
-Evaluate a Casualty
-Open and Manage a Casualty's Airway
-Treat Penetrating Chest Trauma and Decompress and Tension Pneumothroax
-Control Bleeding
-Initiate a Saline Lock and Intravenous (IV) Infusion
-Initiate a Field Medical Card
-Request a Medical Evacuation
-Evacuate a Casualty Using a Sked or Improvised Litter

We got hands-on with almost every procedure (we didn’t actually insert a naso pharyngeal airway (NPA) or perform a needle chest decompression). We did, however, initiate an IV infusion. This was the most frightening and entertaining part of the class. Some participants finished the exercise with six or more puncture wounds because their partners were unable to correctly enter the vein with a needle/catheter. I was lucky, my partner had big fat veins that I could hardly miss. There was one big black Army MSGT with arms twice as big as mine who looked away while his partner stuck him, then sweated profusely when it was his turn to perform the procedure.

So rest easy. If you ever suffer from a sucking chest wound, amputated limb, or need a saline infusion, I’m your man!

Out.

2008-05-21T08:11:00.002+04:30

One of our interpreter/translators brought this in today. It's called bolani. It's flat naan bread, stuffed with potato and leek, then fried. Delicious!

2008-05-09T11:31:00.012+04:30

Koh Samui, Thailand

A much needed and appreciated break. The last time I took leave was Nov last year when I went home for Thanksgiving. This time, instead of going to Dallas, I met Julie in Thailand.

My flight out of Kabul was like any other. Walked about a quarter mile from the parking area to the terminal, past vendors, taxi drivers, and other less-fortunate travelers. Between the time I entered the main gate and boarded the plane, I had my bags x-rayed twice, search twice, and I was patted down five times. The flight crew was Turkish, I think. The in-flight meal was naan, fruit, yogurt, and an unidentifiable meat product. Most Americans fly first to Dubai for connecting flights. Two other MPRI employees were on my flight, Dennis & Melisa.

DUBAI

Dennis was meeting his fiancée-to-be in for a week-long vacation in Dubai. Melisa was meeting a friend in, coincidentally, Bangkok. My flight out the next morning was very early so I didn’t bother with a hotel room. We all went out and had a wonderful steak dinner and a few cocktails, then I went to the airport to wait for my flight.

My flight to Doha, Qatar, then on the Bangkok was uneventful. Upon arriving in Bangkok I had a few hours to kill until Julie’s flight arrived, so I ate, shopped, and read Lucifer’s Hammer by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle—light vacation reading about TEOTWAWKI (The End Of The World As We Know It). Somehow we missed each other at the airport so I took a taxi to the hotel and there she was in the lobby!

BANGKOK

The Lebua at State Tower is magnificent. We had an incredible suite on the 54th floor. Two bedrooms, full kitchen, two living areas, three balconies. We emptied the mini-bar of its alcoholic beverages on the balcony while enjoying the view and each other’s company.

The next morning we hit the road to see Bangkok. Walking out of the hotel and down the street, there were vendors everywhere. I had to try something local, so I bought a couple of things cooked wrapped in leaves. Upon opening them, I was delighted to find what I can only describe as a hot, sweet banana. We didn’t really have a plan, so I hailed a tuk-tuk. A tuk-tuk is a sort a hybrid between a motorcycle and a rickshaw. Here’s what one looked like. I asked the driver to take us to a restaurant for an authentic Thai lunch. He dropped us off at a nice little place with live fish in aquariums out front where we picked out our food. We had spicy Tom Yam soup, prawns, fried rice, and a few Singha beers.

Then we found another tuk-tuk driver who offered to show us the city for a reasonable fee. I think it was about US $12. We saw several Buddha temples and a few tailor/jewelry shops that he insisted we visit. Note: tuk-tuk drivers get coupons for free gas when they take you to certain establishments.

Later we went to a posh bar at the top of Lebua at State Towers, had a few more Singhas, and I tricked Julie into eating an olive.

KOH SAMUI DAY 1

Then it was time to start our trek to Koh Samui, which is an island in the Gulf of Thailand. There’s a couple of ways to get from Bangkok to Koh Samui. Most people take the one-hour flight. I thought it would be romantic to take a sleeper train to Surat Thani (about eleven hours), then a short ferry ride to Koh Samui. Boy was I wrong. While the train ride was adventurous, it was anything but romantic. The train station was neat though, at one point we saw an officer in uniform talking with a woman in a dress sitting on a bench, and it was reminiscent of old WWII movies. But we didn’t get a sleeper car like I envisioned. The beds were our seats, folded out bunk-bed style. I was too short for my top bunk. I crawled out early the next morning to find Julie sitting up in her bunk like a kid in her sheet fort on her bed. We arrived in Surat Thani, then about two hours on a bus to the ferry, then about three hours on the ferry in the rain to Koh Samui. We decided on the return trip we’d fly instead.

Of note was some of the Buddhist ornaments. Like Julie & I who both wear crosses depicting our Christian beliefs, Buddhists wear things too. Some of them are quite large and encased in clear plastic like little terrariums. Finally we asked someone who said they were monks and/or temples and meant to bring good luck.

We arrived at Bill Resort (I know, but it’s Bill Resort not Bill’s Resort) and we amazed by our beachfront bungalow. The edge of our deck was literally only a few yards from the surf. The pool & restaurant was just around the corner. Except for a steep walk from/to the reception area, it was perfect. We immediately broke into the mini-bar and I had the Singhas while Julie enjoyed the Thai red wine which was chilled and sweet like Sangria.

KOH SAMUI DAY 2

We had breakfast at the resort restaurant, served by a waitress we nicknamed Button because we agreed she was “as cute as a button.” Then after relaxing a while on our deck watching the waves and beach traffic, we adventured into town. Almost dehydrated from the 100 ft. walk, we stopped at the first available patio bar for some liquid refreshment—Singha. We were joined by Maria the cat as we watched young men spar in the open-air Muay Thai boxing ring across the street. We later made out way down the street, patronizing each patio bar along the way, and were adopted by a beach dog we named Clyde who looked remarkably like Julie’s dog Sampson and who followed us the rest of the day.

At one bar we decided to deviate from Singha and ordered Bloody Marys. They were horrible. We told the server (Russian, I think) so and he admitted he didn’t know how to make them but he would go ask his friend. He immediately hopped on the back of a scooter and disappeared. Some time later he returned and apologized because he couldn’t find Worcester anywhere on the island.

KOH SAMUI DAY 3

The third day was our jungle safari. We were picked up at he hotel and first went to see Grandfather and Grandmother rocks, which are well-known natural rock formations that look remarkably like male & female genitalia. Then we went to an animal park where Julie held a baby otter and several birds, I bottle-fed two tiger cubs, we saw an elephant show, and we went for a ride on an elephant. Our next stop was a beautiful waterfall and quick swim. Then to the top of a mountain where we had a magnificent view of the island, and lunch at a restaurant with an equally impressive view. Lastly, we went to see the Giant Buddha, which was on the other side of the island. We were traveling in the back of a small pickup with other tourists, including two young women who we think were French, and three guys who turned out to be the first Emirates I’ve ever met despite my many trips through Dubai. There was also one frumpy old lady who was sight-seeing by herself.

KOH SAMUI DAY 4

This was the relaxing day. We went to Tamarind Springs Spa for five hours of blissful relaxation. First one and a half hours by ourselves in a steam room built into the rocks and a cool water pool right next to it. Then a two and a half hour massage in a comfortable pavilion surrounded by jungle. We could hear rainfall and jungle birds while skillful masseuses treated us to a traditional Thai massage.

That night we went to Rick’s Resort for a delightful dinner of tempura shrimp and prawns in white wine sauce with a Chilean Corinto Merlot. There was a cabaret show with transvestites lip-synching and dancing to show tunes. Later we retreated to our bungalow where we relaxed on the deck and I enjoyed a Nicaraguan Vigilante cigar while we watched fireworks light up the shrimp boats.

KOH SAMUI DAY 5

We laid on the beach, slept, ate, relaxed.

KOH SAMUI DAY 6

Fishing/snorkeling tour. The van picked us up and took us to the pier where we boarded our boat. We went out near some small islands nearby and fished with hand lines over the side of the boat. I caught a small grouper. Later Julie had a bite. She said “It feels big!” and was having trouble bringing it in so I reached over to help her, thinking she must be hung up on a rock. Nope, it was a big one! Together we pulled it in and then let the deck hands take over to net it (with a laundry basket) and bring it aboard. Everyone cheered when it was in the boat and took pics. I wish I could say what kind it was but I’ve never seen anything like it and couldn’t understand what the Thai deck hand said, but it was shaped like a sunfish only larger. It was probably 15 inches long, about 10 inched tall, and I guess it weighed 12 lbs.

After fishing in the morning, we went to a small island where the crew prepared our catch and we had a picnic. Julie’s fish fed not only the other tourists on our boat (three from China and two from Hong Kong), but also another boat that didn’t have any fish.

Then we went to another area where there were some coral reefs and got out of the boat to snorkel. It was beautiful. There were hundreds of fish who weren’t shy. At times we’d be surrounded by these little fish that would swim right up to us and even brush against us.

We were supposed to fly back to Bangkok the next day for two more nights in Bangkok. The fishing was great, but I told Julie it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind—I was thinking about more fishing, with poles, in boat in which we could stand, with beer. We both loved Koh Samui so much we decided to extend another day. So…

KOH SAMUI DAY 7

This time we took another fishing tour. A bigger boat, with fishing poles, standing room, and Singha beer. We fished all morning then broke for onboard lunch when the crew cooked some of our catch. The captain asked if we wanted to snorkel in the afternoon or keep fishing. Us tourists (Julie & me; a couple from China; a couple from Germany; two Asian teens; and a guy who we think was English) voted to continue fishing. I caught a few fish and a lot of coral, Julie caught a few fish plus one calamari.

That night we went to a highly rated restaurant called the Cliff. We had a delicious dinner, appetizers, soup, wine, entrée, desert, after-dinner drinks all for under US $200.

KOH SAMUI DAY 8

Checked out of the resort and had time for a little shopping before our flight. We bought some souvenirs and I bought a ring for Julie. The airport in Koh Samui was surprisingly beautiful, like you might expect an island paradise airport should be. Flight to Bangkok, taxi to the Royal Orchid Hotel where our room on the seventeenth floor had a splendid view of the river, but no balcony. We had dinner in the hotel’s Thai restaurant. One last glorious taste of spicy Tom Yam soup; a delightful appetizer that you build yourself from leaves, scallion, peanuts, dried shrimp, something crunchy, and topped with a spicy sauce; prawns in white wine sauce, and a Chilean Cabernet.

BANGKOK

Up early and to the airport. A quick kiss goodbye and then Julie made a mad dash to her gate while I checked in for my flight. Julie’s flight included a short layover in Tokyo while mine included a long layover in the tiny airport in Doha, Qatar.

DUBAI

I finally landed in Dubai where I had almost twenty hours to kill. I went to the Gardens mall, shopped for a new bag since mine was falling apart, had some grape leaves and hummus at the food court, and watched the Iron Man movie. I didn’t realize Iron Man took place in Afghanistan and the bad guys were Arab. It was interesting to watch a movie in the United Arab Emirates, in English with Arab subtitles—except when the bad guys were speaking. Weird.

Found a cheap hotel for the night where apparently the clientele was mostly Pakistani workers. Went to the dingy hotel bar for a nightcap and saw an Arab-looking woman get irate at something a man said to her, expecting to see an instant beheading but someone rushed the guy out before that could happen. Went to bed, woke up the next morning for my flight back to Kabul. As usual, the taxi driver was surprised to hear I wanted Terminal 2. Most westerners fly in and out of Terminal 1. Terminal 2 is reserved for shitty third-world countries. I guess it doesn’t need to be said which terminal flies to Afghanistan.

KABUL

Arrived in Kabul and had to wait on the tarmac while some Japanese delegation was ceremoniously greeted, then through customs, searched, x-rayed, and frisked. Back the grey quarter mile past security guards with AK-47s, beggars, vendors, and taxi drivers to the parking area where my driver Sherin was waiting for me with my body armor like a puppy dog. Home sweet home.

Click here for our pics (over 400 of them). Enjoy!

Out.

Julie added her observations to mine:

Flight Day: My flights: Tokyo—flying over looked like flying over Louisiana. Normal houses, not high rises, and rice patties with a fancy golf course in the middle of everything. 22 hour flight to meet you, and an extra 1 1/2 hour delay due to weather. Weather, we later found out, was the cause of the cyclone in Burma.
I get to airport, no Rick, no English, 1:00 AM. I am tired and anxious and have -0- way of communicating with anyone. Found cab-1 hour to hotel. Get there and you had not checked in. I had no idea where you were. No messages either.

Lebua State Tower: Perfect timing...We met in the lobby. They felt sorry for us and had run out of rooms so we got an incredible upgrade to their 2nd best suite! The suite looked like it was straight out of IKEA, quite trendy, complete with crystal chandeliers, separate living/dining room areas, a fully stocked kitchen, 2 bedrooms, front load washer/dryers and 3 balconies. We had to sign a balcony waiver when we checked in since the architecture of the building incorporated balconies in every room. This hotel had been written up in Conde Nast (world renowned travel guide) as one of the top hotels, bar none, in Bangkok. They also have the only restaurant/bar that is literally on the rooftop, overlooking the Chao Phraya River which runs through downtown Bangkok. Weird dress code...women cannot wear open toed shoes. I packed 8 pairs of shoes...all were open toed! The bar is all glass and almost has an infinity feel to it...like you could walk off the ledge and step directly onto the clouds. Very unique.

Bangkok: No fear: stepped out of hotel and immediately grabbed food from a street vendor. They sold the fried honey bananas out of the equivalent of an ice cream cart, and made them as fast as we could buy them. They were wrapped in banana leaves, and were about 1/2 the size of our local bananas. I even enjoyed it!
Buddhist shrines: Very ornate architecture, like nothing else in the city. The actual Buddhas were made out of gold...more specifically gold flakes. We later learned gold flakes were placed on the Buddhas by monks for good fortune. Buddhist monks appear to be quiet, peaceful, bald, and mostly wear orange togas (sarongs?) Temples themselves were made out of gold and gems, and the architecture was quite traditional and different from anything else we saw in the city.
Protocol for the temple: take shoes off, it's ok to take pics inside. Locals burn incense with orchids and dedicate a prayer. People can enter the temple to pray at all hours. We were impressed with this fact. Some people were writing prayers on paper and burning them as an offering to Buddha. There were colorful ribbons and leis, incense and money boxes for donations everywhere at the foot of Buddha. No explanations anywhere in English so we had to assume many traditions.
Jewelry factory: they were actually grinding the stones and carving them into jewelry right in front of us. We heard that the jewelry factories were owned by the govt.

Koh Samui:
Day 2: You could also describe the terrarium as a golden snow globe. Mention that Buddha is in the terrarium, covered in gold, and he brings luck, safety and goodness to those who wear him. Many wore pimped Buddhas.
On the train, we stopped every 1/2 hour or so to pick up other passengers, similar to riding on DART. Vendors would hop on, trying to sell us beer, souvenirs, etc. While on the train, after finally leaving Bangkok, I saw 2 Catholic Church missions surrounded with concertina wire. This was a strange visual. Neither of us had been on a train before and were surprised how the gentle rocking of the train made us sleepy rather early—like around 9 PM! We thought we'd get our own car but shared it with several others. Don't pee unless it's an absolute emergency.
Ferry: Found out beer is only 20 baht, or less than $1, so this stretch of the trip was tolerable. Terrain started looking more like Hawaii with bold mountains jetting out of the water.
Harley riders greeted us when we docked. Many ex-pats going out for a ride.

Bill Resort: We did a great job being very specific with our room request. We mentioned it was out honeymoon and got the royal treatment when we entered our beachfront, bungalow room. The white linen sheets were covered in orchid petals gently placed in the shape of a heart. They also had a fruit basket ornately covered in banana leaves and a wine basket with their local Thai wine. The help was incredibly friendly and accommodating. The trek from our room to the lobby was quite daunting with a hill that would wear out even the most fit hikers. You really had to WANT to get to the lobby if you needed anything. You couldn't just call in for room service, either. The room had no phone! The only English TV channel was Bloomberg. Needless to say there wasn't much TV watching being done. Both of us read. (Yes, Rick even read People magazine with me!) The weather was bad when we arrived so we adapted! We pulled out the IPOD docking station, hung out on the patio, drank, danced, smoked, told lies an stayed up past our bedtime! Near our bungalow, beachfront bars were lined up all down the coastline, so it was no wonder that when tourists walked by they thought we were a bar. We could have sold Singhas and paid for our trip!

Day 3: In town. The side street we stumbled across was the main drag to the cities bars, stores, etc. We couldn't have planned it any better if we tried! It looked like something you might see out of Key West or in some Southern beach town. Very quaint, open-aired architecture. Very laid back. Jamaican music, Abba, country music, you name it. More importantly...very cheap beer. We ordered appetizers once in a while...I fell in love with tempura shrimp and spring rolls. Goes well with Singha.
After touring about 6 establishments, we ventured down a side street that looked slightly different than the main drag. We stopped at one other unique bar: Hot Lips. The reason...we were curious. Their logo was stolen right off of Harley Davidson. It must be cool!
A side note: Local girlie-girls are rampant in Thailand. I think Rick called them buy-me-drinky girls. Old geezers fly to this country by themselves just to get laid by native island girls. They have ample opportunity...local Thai girls prostitute themselves out and it is seen as absolutely no big deal. The exploitation of these girls bothered me quite a bit at first, but nobody else seemed to mind. Eventually, I adapted, but never quite accepted this lifestyle choice. Back to the bar... Hot Lips was such a girly bar. Two hot Thai women greeted us, gave us some Singhas and kept asking Rick to come back later. This didn't bother me at all...but it was interesting that the girls were so brazen and that this is the norm.
Also, you're never really sure whether you're talking to a girl or a boy. Transvestites flourish down here, too. We kept looking for Adams Apples on these two. The he-males/women/men are beautiful and laid back...a perfect combination for anyone looking for 'love'... After we hung out with these 2 for a while, we started to realize that we had stumbled onto a side street that could be best described as the "Zona Rosa"...or red light district. Gays/loose women and alcohol abounded. It was a feast for the eyes! The spirit of the street reminded me of Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras. Great people watching! We ate too much, drank too much, I passed out and Rick partied with the help back at the hotel. This later proved to be a fruitful move. They were at our beck and call the remainder of the trip!

Day 4 Elephant Tour: Story behind Grandfather/Grandmother Rock:
First of all...there is DEEP respect for the elderly in Thailand. Story goes...a grandfather and grandmother were coming to Thailand to raise their family and begin new opportunities. They got caught in a horrible storm and died at sea. Their bodies washed up to shore, and their spirits grew into the boulders/beachside. Their organs became the prominent features to develop in the granite, which was for good luck in fertility.
The rock formations are as close to the real thing as you will ever see. You may even blush or feel a little uneasy staring too long at the rocks.
On the elephant tour, we were lucky enough to also see a monkey act, elephant act and a crocodile act. The crocodile act was the most unique...they hypnotized the crocs and the trainers did such daring stunts as inserting their entire arms and their own heads into the crocs' mouths. They even kissed them on the lips. Trainers were young, 20 yr olds...very daring!
This day was a personal challenge for me on many levels. I was still recovering from a previous surgery I had 2 weeks earlier. I had not regained my sense of core balance. This is only important because I am scared of heights, and we were:
1. Riding on top of HIGH elephants on a trail up in the mountains that looked WAY DOWN onto a creek...straight down a steep hill.
2. Hiking on a trail that was an intermediate level in difficulty up to the waterfall and the magical garden. Nothing was level at all.
3. Driving on narrow roads that had drop offs and I didn't hyperventilate.
We drove to the top of the mountain and saw a view of all the islands we later fished at.
Did I mention it was very humid and about 100 degrees?
On this tour we also saw a mummified monk...some monk who used to be married with a family and after 50 years became a monk/abbot. Converting to a monk is supposed to be a blessing for your family. He saw a premonition of his own death and somehow the family knew to save his body and not bury him. The only thing I know is that Buddhists believe in reincarnation. You come back to Earth at the next level, higher or lower, based off of your behavior in your previous life. Being mummified is evidently a great direction!
We also went to see the Great Buddha. This shrine is enormous! We thought all temples were ancient, but Rick noticed architectural/structural features that would favor towards the modern. Long story short, this temple was built in 1972~! We bought souvenirs here, too. It seemed almost sacrilegious having souvenir shops intertwined with the temple, but it all flowed together just fine!
Note: regarding the Emirates we toured with: they were quite familiar with the USA, more so than any other people we ran into on the trip. One studied in Seattle and had lived in the USA for several years. They actually valued our educational system! They talked about the new Terminal 3 in Dubai airport and since he was an Emirate he got to be one of the first to enter the terminal. 3 Emirate friends on a trip...trouble! They were so friendly! Our first Emirate encounter!
Note regarding the terrain in the mountain: it's as rich and green as you could imagine. There are very thick vines, heavy foliage, ferns, and huge palm trees/coconut trees. Elephants, monkeys and tigers are regional animals here. Any given day or night you heard mynah birds (which are known for mimicking human voices), monkeys, loud chirps and hoots, etc.
I've never seen such a wide variety of beautiful butterflies, either. Families of butterflies were seen that I had never even visualized in pictures before...all with bold vivid colors. No wonder oriental pictures have butterflies in them!
Flowers abound everywhere...hyacinths even float in the water. Colors, smells sounds...you cannot reproduce this back home.

Tamarind Springs: We were not allowed to bring a camera. All I can say is that neither of us had ever been to a spa like this before, and never will again. It, for a lack of better words, is probably a 5-star spa. The theme is "Heaven on Earth". The spa is literally built into the mountainside, and has natural springs to wade in. The natural springs are said to have healing properties. Your experience starts with an outdoor shower with one of those rain-showerheads. Very awesome! Then you wade in the natural springs, which are built into the boulders, complete with a waterfall you can swim in. The spa is built in, too. Just you and nature. They provided us with sarongs and black, fishnet underwear for the massage. Hmmm.
Once your massage begins, you are escorted to an area up the hill in an entire different region of the resort. It's a hike!
Dinner at Rocky's: The Cabaret show focused on music we grew up with. It's interesting to me that nobody was from the USA on this trip, but all of the music was ours. The he-male dancers looked so beautiful...I don't know how they looked so much like girls, but I was intimidated! Represented stars included: Cher, Tina Turner, Saturday Night Fever, Abba, Madonna, Brittany Spears. They even did the Macarena.
The fireworks later: we thought some bar was simply trying to get attention and draw attention to themselves. Fireworks are actually a symbol of good luck for the fisherman. While the fishermen are in their boats at sea, they look towards the coastline and see the fireworks shooting off into the sky. The fireworks are supposed to wish good luck on their catch.

Day of Rest: It rained that night during dinner. Again, we did not know that this bad weather was the future cyclone that hit Burma 3 days later.

Line Fishing Day: This was not a typical boat for salt water fishing. It was a traditional cigar shaped boat with an awning. The captain had concocted some long handle attached to the motor to steer.
We met some Chinese tourists who spoke English, and another couple from Hong King who spoke excellent English. We all exchanged email info and look forward to keeping in touch with them.
Snorkeling was different than in Mexico or Hawaii. You were allowed to stand on the coral. We all got little cuts as a result. Earlier in the day we told our waiter we were going fishing and he gave us a loaf of bread. We had no idea why until we got out there. The fish are so friendly and tame that people feed them bread!
The schools of fish were everywhere! Some fish I recognized: parrot fish, angel and butterfly fish, lion fish, clownfish, damsels, grouper, parrotfish, tangs....absolutely amazing!
Later that night we still had energy and went to the Patio Bar. This night began our Roman Orgy theme which ensued throughout the remainder of the trip. We had wonderful gourmet meals from this day on out.
We arrived early to the restaurant so walked down the road to a little place called "Hip Bar". Finally...English speaking purveyors! The Thai woman who owned the bar, June, and her fiancée were probably in their mid 20's. They love Hip Hop music. She studied hip hop dance for 6 years and wanted to open this bar so others could dance. His sister gave them the $$ to start the place. (Sister was married to an Austrian, they had 2 kids, he died on his birthday in a car wreck and left her lots of money.) June went to New York to take pics of graffiti, since there isn't any on the island. She brought the pics back and her fiancée painted the bar in NY graffiti. We hung out and started talking about real estate. Ends up his sister had a house she was trying to sell. It was from the previous marriage. She wasn't going to sell but she fell in love with a man from England and no longer wanted to keep the place. Price: $25 Million Baht! ($800K USD). This includes 6 acres, 1 main house and 2 cottages complete with a swimming pool. They were a fascinating couple with interesting stories. Then, while we were talking, a little street boy came up to our table and tried to sell us a rose. He was probably about 7 years old at best. Rick bought the entire bouquet from him, and you could see his day was made! He got all giddy, started clapping his hands and making random squealing noises of joy. Once Rick gave him the 18 baht, the little boy, very untraditionally, came up to every person at the table and kissed them on both cheeks and hugged us all. Priceless!
We left and ate at the Patio. It is a part of a beautiful, 5-star resort, and the walk to the restaurant was an experience on its own. It's the kind of resort where if you feel so inclined, you can rent a room with its own swimming pool. We went off of the critic's recommendations: Lobster bisque, mozzarella balls, chicken kebab in red curry sauce, and then a main course of crab stuffed prawn covered in a white wine sauce, shrimp with asparagus and glass noodles with seafood with a side of Thai sauce. Lord, we even had dessert! During the meal, we had the most pleasant Filipino mariachi band trio come sing for us. Before it was all said and done, Rick selected the catchy tune "House of the Rising Sun" for them to sing, (trying to stump the band) and she roped me into singing with them. I sound great with wine! We had a blast! This huge meal was about $100! It would have been a cool $400 here!

Deep Sea Fishing Day: Rick caught a Rockfish within the first hour of the voyage. Whew! He's wanted to fish for months!!!
Weather was a little overcast...thoughts of Gilligan's Island crept in my head. The guide spoke broken English and loved to sing. Calamari, rockfish and grouper were our catch! We didn't starve!
On the boat they gave us complimentary exotic fruits and water. We tried our first Rambutan. It looks like a hairy strawberry! You twist off the skin and a white, plum-like fruit is encased underneath. It's very sweet, and I think it's the fruit used in Thai wine. (Later on we also ate a Dragon Fruit. It is a white fruit with small, edible black seeds. It looks like chocolate chip ice cream...as a fruit! It favors a kiwi but is sweeter.) On the topic of fruit... Rick says he's never had riper bananas in his life, either.

The Cliff: This restaurant was written up in every publication we came across. The chef is from Portugal and has traveled around the world to fuse flavors together. It's worth every bit of the efforts, too!
One big benefit of traveling during off-peak season is that you can virtually walk-in without a wait! We had a patio table as soon as we walked in! Again, we went with the critic's recommendation: appetizer consisted of dumplings stuffed with prawn and topped with lobster/white wine sauce. WOW!!! I had the main dish of Chicken cooked in a Portuguese Piri-Piri sauce. The sauce favors Thai sauce but has some different hotter spices.
Rick had a copper bowl overflowing with mussels drenched in a white wine, almost gravy thickness, sauce. It was pure heaven! All week we had Chilean wines with dinner, and were never disappointed. Rick finally had an opportunity to enjoy some 10 year old port, and I had a Cliffhanger...basically a White Russian with ice cream and chocolate syrup. What a great night. At any given point we had 4 people waiting on us hand and foot!

Last Day: No souvenir shops exist like other tourist places. You actually have to take a tour. We went and Rick bought me a beautiful sapphire/diamond ring in 18kg. I especially like it because they mine sapphires right in Thailand. It's local!
We bought souvenirs... (Ironically no place had t-shirts.) We had a little time to kill before the airport back to Bangkok, so we discovered a Tetco, (aka Wal-Mart).
Rick's suitcase was breaking, so he bought a new one. Then we went outside to a local food stand. Again, we didn't go wrong with the food! Rick had his soup and green curry/potato, I had my glass noodles and we had Singhas! Delicious!
For an island with 40,000 occupants, it struck me as odd that this was the only store of its kind in the island! I guess everyone goes to the marketplaces which abound everywhere!
The airport reminded me of the one on the show "Fantasy Island". I was not alone in taking pictures. Even the restroom had a built-in aquarium.
Rick and I flew together for the first time in several years. Nice. Trains, planes and tuk-tuks! We arrived in Bangkok right during rush hour, and it took forever to reach the Sheraton. This hotel is also on Conde Nast's top hotels to visit.
The lobby favored an elegant museum! It is located on the Chao Phraya River, and the views were almost as beautiful as the State Tower's.
A side note: very trendy room...the TV was a wide screen computer. We need one!
We ate at the hotel's Thai restaurant. You could dine inside in the traditional version, where you take off your shoes and sit at floor level. We opted for the outdoors. It was Friday night and I think a good choice. We saw party boats on the river, all lit up like Christmas trees. The dinner cruisers would float by playing Abba or the Macarena. Quite funny. It reminded us of the Pirate Ship we partied on in Cancun. Arrghhh!
As far as I could tell, we were the only Americans in Koh Samui or Bangkok.
Most tourists were from Australia, Germany, Russia, Holland or somewhere in the Orient. The only time English was spoken was if it was out of necessity. Even the Thai alphabet differs from ours. I think most foreigners felt a little shy speaking English. I felt inept not knowing any language but English. We survived! I didn't realize how close we were to Viet Nam or Malaysia. I also didn't realize how far Thailand was from Japan. There's a large, undiscovered world out there for us to explore.

2008-04-03T07:21:00.000+04:30

I sent some pottery made in Istalif to Julie for her birthday. When I told her the story about Istalif, she researched it on the internet. During her search, on one webpage there was a picture of a dog on a roof. I told her that wasn’t so uncommon here, the dogs are a little wild, not really kept and pampered as pets, and are more cat-like than we’re used to. Even Strawberry, with her crippled leg, often climbs HESCO barriers over six feet tall. About twice a week, she’s up on the barriers to meet us in the morning. This morning, as we rounded the turn to the depot entrance, she woke up, stretched, and sat pretty while surveying her domain. A few more pics are here.

2008-04-01T14:30:00.000+04:30

10 November 2008

This is a story that I wrote back in April 2008 but couldn't put in my public blog because I broke a lot of rules. We aren't supposed to travel outside of the Kabul area except on official business, aren't supposed to go to public places (only military/work-related destinations), and are always supposed to travel with at least two vehicles. I broke all those rules.

First, a little background. My driver Sherin is Tajik. There are basically four ethnic groups in Afghanistan: Tajiks, Pashtuns, Uzbeks, and Hazaras. Tajiks and Uzbeks are essentially pro-Western, anti-Taliban. The Taliban is primarily Pashtun. So Tajiks/Uzbeks and Pashtuns hate each other. Hazaras look Asian, and everyone hates them.

Sherin is from a small village called Rokha in the Tajik province of Panjshir Valley. Adjacent to Rokha is the village called Bazarak. Massoud, an Afghan national hero, aka the "Lion of Panjshir," is from Bazarak. Massoud defended the Panjshir Valley from the Soviets and fought the Taliban in the Panjshir Valley.

Sherin fought with Massoud. He was wounded four times—three bullet wounds and a piece of RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) shrapnel he still carries in his neck.

Sherin is always telling me about the Panjshir Valley, how beautiful it is, and how he wants to take me there. He assures me there are no Pashtun and/or Hazara in Panjshir. So this last Friday, our day off, I told him we'd go. I invited another MPRI mentor, Dennis, and another driver, Abdul, who speaks passable English.

At 0700 Dennis & I went to breakfast on Camp Eggers, hopped in our MPRI-issued Toyota SUV with Sherin and Abdul, and headed off to the Panjshir Valley.

The drive took about an hour after we left the Kabul city limits. As we traveled, the scenery got greener, the air got cleaner, and we saw less Afghan police and soldiers. We were only stopped at one checkpoint and they lazily waved us through. We stopped a couple times to take pictures, all of which are here. Driving through the valley, we got a play-by-play synopsis of the battle against the Taliban. Sherin pointed out the area in which he was injured.

One stop was a waterfall. Next to which was a cave. Sherin, through Abdul, told us the cave was used by Massoud's fighters as protection from Soviet bombs. I went in the cave but it was too dark to see much and I didn't have a flashlight.

One thing that really struck Dennis & I was the water. There was lots of running water. Most of the drive as we neared the valley was next to a rushing river. In Kabul there is a river that I see almost daily. It's polluted, shallow, and nasty. Once I saw a dead horse there and I was able to keep progress of it over several weeks as it decomposed. However, the water in the valley was clear, cool, and fast.

Another thing was the evidence of battle. Around every corner and in a lot of farmer's fields were rusting hulks of Soviet tanks, vehicles, and armored personnel carriers.

Our first stop was a restaurant in Rokha owned by Sherin's uncle. I'm not sure if Sherin is clear on the definition of "uncle" because he sure has a lot of them, but in a country where families typically have six to ten children I guess it's not unlikely to have dozens of uncles. The restaurant didn't look very inviting; just another junky hut on the side of the road. Sherin led us in where we met the uncle and a couple other men, then out through the back and down a small hill to the outside dining area. There was a large rug on the ground on the edge of a small cliff overlooking a soccer field next to the river. It was peaceful and beautiful. Cattle, goats, and donkeys were roaming free for the most part. In a field next to us was the remnants of a helicopter that crashed there years ago. We had dates and chai, then walked down to the river. I took a pic of some children playing by the river, and an Afghan duck blind. The duck blind was built from rocks into the side of the river bank, and there were decoys close by made from mud. Primitive, but effective. Shortly afterward we said goodbye and headed to Bazarak.

The first thing we saw when entering Bazarak was a map of Afghanistan comprised of farms cut into the landscape. Farm plots here are generally small, probably a quarter acre or so, bordered by mud or stone walls to contain water. Somebody designed a group of plots and borders to resemble Afghanistan. Plots were formed in the shapes of Kabul, Herat, Gardez, Kandahar, Mezar-e Sharif, and other Afghan cities and provinces. It was amazing. Here's a pic.

We pulled into Bazarak, met with another of Sherin's uncles, who we were told is 100 years old, then parked under a tree next to a large open area on the river bank. Sherin often told me about his uncle's horses. This uncle is a rich man—he owns four horses. I told Sherin that I rode horses when I was younger and I jokingly told him I'd like to ride an Afghan horse someday. As we're standing under the lone tree, chatting with Sherin's uncle/cousins/various other men/boys of different ages, here come two young men riding horses. One horse looked calm enough, but the other looked young and full of piss & vinegar. The experienced rider had him barely in control. They offered him to me to ride and as I held the reins preparing to mount, the horse reared up. I've never held the reins of a rearing horse before, nor have I had that sort of training, so I was a little unsure of the correct procedure. I held on as long as prudent under the circumstances, then let go. The horse bolted and one of the men chased him down.

I need to deviate here and tell you about the Afghan national pastime called Buzkashi. Buzkashi is a game where two opposing teams on horseback brawl over a goat's head. I'm a little fuzzy on the rules, but as far as I can tell it's an all out fight for a bag with a goat head in it. I only saw part of one game before, and one rider fell and was almost trampled to death. Well I learned later that this horse was obtained from the Pakistan Army for Buzkashi. Indeed, it had military branding. I also learned that Buzkashi horses are trained to control a little differently than western pleasure horses. Seems that when you pull back the reins, it doesn't mean "halt." It means "halt for a second and sprint like a demon stallion from hell."

Needless to say, my hosts failed to inform me of this tidbit of information. So picture a giant white guy (according to locals, I have huge bazo—arms) on a Pakistan war horse out of control on the rocky banks of the Panjshir river. I managed to stay aboard until the hell horse decided to shoot the gap between our SUV and tree. That's when I decided to bail. It can be debated whether I jumped, the horse threw me, or the horse brushed me off against the tree; but I maintain that I jumped. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Once some of the men caught and returned the horse, these jokers had the audacity to suggest I try again. Hey, I didn't just fall off the turnip wagon…horse…yesterday. That was a few moments ago. I graciously declined. I did have a little pride left, so I opted to ride the other horse for a little while.

My recreation finished for the day, we said khuda hafiz (goodbye) and headed back through Rokha. We stopped at the restaurant again for lunch. We had goat kabobs, naan, and chai. It was delicious. After a little relaxing and much laughter about my equestrian adventure, we started home.

Before reaching the Kabul city limit, we stopped at a little bazaar on the side of the road. Funny thing about the merchants here—they tend to group together. All the vegetable vendors are side by side, as are the wood vendors, auto-repair vendors, meat sellers, etc. This bazaar was all goat milk stands. Sherin dipped a ladle into a big pot and dished out glasses of goat milk for each of us. This milk had some sort of seasoning in it that I could see floating around, so I can't say what pure goat milk tastes like, but I didn't like this stuff. We also had something else I hadn't tried before. Abdul called it Afghan pizza. It was the same flat naan bread, but this had a layer of potato in the middle and was fried. It was quite tasty.

Back into dirty, crowded Kabul and safely to my quarters by 1500. I'm a little sore this morning, and there's a new dent in the SUV front bumper which Sherin blames on the horse.

Hope you enjoyed the story.

2008-03-25T14:29:00.002+04:30

Well the powers-that-are finally recognized my exceptional intelligence, superb leadership, and brutally handsome good-looks and promoted me to Materiel Control Team Chief. (I know, but in military jargon it is materiel not material. Look it up.)

So I’m back out at the Depot. What that really means is that I’m in charge of the seventeen MPRI personnel, seventeen interpreters, and seven drivers that work at the Afghan National Army Depots 1 & 2. I’m not in charge of the depots themselves—that distinction belongs to the US Navy, under the auspices of CSTC-A CJ4.

Strawberry is still here and greets me every morning for her sausages.

Of interesting note, while at work I wanted to add a couple pictures to my photobucket. I didn’t have the URL handy so I Googled “photobucket rlanicek”. I was amazed at the number of hits! Seems my pictures of the surplus weapons at Central Forces Depot (CFD) are a huge hit among fellow gun enthusiasts. Cool.

Out.

2008-03-21T09:34:00.000+04:30

Is this the Danish anti-Islam film that has Muslims in an uproar?

2008-02-20T17:09:00.006+04:30

Like many government agencies and other businesses, at the end of the fiscal year if there is still money left in the annual budget a call goes out for year-end purchases. I submitted the following request:

-----Original Message-----
From: Lanicek, Richard E USA Mr USA CSTC-A (MPRI)
Sent: Thursday, January 24, 2008 9:18 AM
Subject: Year-end buy

Year-end buy requirement: One (1) broadsword.
No NSN identified. See http://www.coldsteel.com/88hnh.html.

Justification:

1. Per MPRI corporate guidelines, employees are not allowed firearms for personal protection. As identified in the 012308 PM meeting, the threat level for MPRI employees billeted in the Big House and the White House is elevated, as evidenced by the change/evolution of tactics demonstrated by the recent insurgent attack on the Serena Hotel. In lieu of a firearm, an edged weapon would be an acceptable alternative. Many MPRI employees currently carry pocket-sized knives and/or lock blade type edged weapons for utilitarian and personal protection purposes. A broadsword is widely viewed by those in the sword community as the best all-around and durable weapon for close combat.

2. Worldwide news agencies typically include scientific reports detailing new, mutating viruses/germs as threats to life and health. Recent increases in genetic and embryonic research have accelerated the possibility of new, unknown viruses for which we have no antidote, cure, or methods of prevention. Infection is imminent. Many researchers have determined that the most likely new viral mutation will result in a world-wide epidemic, causing zombie-like symptoms, including the preference of living human flesh as a food source and resistance to all defenses other than decapitation. Ergo, a broadsword is the logical sidearm against zombie attack. Considering the poor sanitation and high air pollution of Afghanistan, I surmise that this country will be one of the most susceptible to a zombie epidemic.

3. A broadsword would be commensurate with the MPRI logo and, as such, greatly enhance the reputation and respect of MPRI.

Rick Lanicek
L-3 Communications/MPRI
Kabul, Afghanistan
Local 0798-254-581

Amazingly, despite the eloquent verbiage and painstaking research evidenced above, my request was denied. Hmpf.

Out.

2008-02-14T13:25:00.002+04:30

I had the opportunity to visit the ANA Central Forces Depot, where they keep their obsolete weapons. There were at least four warehouses full of old weapons, spare parts, and comm gear. It was like exploring a museum.

I recognized many of the weapons, but not all. Most of them were old Warsaw Pact weapons. There were hundreds of British Enfields, Russian SSPh machine guns, and many others I couldn’t ID. I saw some older Enfields, a stack of US M1903 rifles with British markings, US M3 “Grease Guns”, lots of Chinese rifles, and more. Most of them were stacked on top of each other on shelves and heaped with dust. It was a collector’s dream.

There was one lonely M1 Garand. Unfortunately it was too dark and the rifle was too rusty and dirty for me to make out the manufacturer or serial number.

There was one warehouse where they had a bunch of larger weapons like AA platforms, heavy machine guns, mortars, recoilless rifles, etc. Some of those they cleaned up and sorted for display.

Another item of interest was an old Enfield that some Afghan had decorated with studs similar to how they used to do Jezail rifles. This one was more modernized and had stickers too.

More pics are here.

Out.

2008-02-04T15:26:00.000+04:30

I went to the gun range today at Pol-E-Charki near 201^st Corps.

Under the DIAG (Disarmament of Illegal Armed Groups) program, weapons captured from Taliban, al Qaeda, warlord, and other criminal activities are sent to the Afghan National Army (ANA) Central Workshop for inspection and repair, then test-fired before being issued to ANA units. They are mostly old Soviet weapons.

Today we fired DSHKA heavy machine guns, PKM machine guns, and AK-47 rifles. More pics are here.

There were also some US armored HMMWVs sharing the range and test firing their weapons (.50 cal. machine guns, 7.62mm machine guns, and M4 rifles), and an Italian unit in APCs (Armored Personnel Carriers).

Out.

2008-01-21T17:51:00.000+04:30

Dave “TFB” Bremer went home today. (That F___ing Bremer).

Dave has been in Afghanistan for three years. The first year he was deployed as a member of the Maine National Guard. He worked with some MPRI contractors and applied after his deployment. Came back as a civilian and stayed two years, until family obligations called him home. Every other story he told (and he told many) started with “back when I was in uniform” in reference to his time here as a soldier.

I first met Dave back when I was the curriculum developer at D-1 supply depot. I had to go to Logistics Command to recruit students, and since Dave was the LogCmd mentor and I asked him to take me and introduce me to the right people. On the ride over, he told me how he acquired a tough-looking scar on his face. He got it as a young soldier (back when he was in uniform) horsing around in the barracks. I suspect adult beverages were involved. He fell into a wall locker and got a cool gash below his right eye.

Dave was the joker in our office. I had to log off my terminal whenever I left, or I’d return to find that another guy received a love letter from my email account. He was always ready with a story or anecdote, usually from when he was back in uniform, about some foolish thing he did at one time or another. Along with “back when I was in uniform,” another favorite saying of his was “that’s gay,” which was applied to almost everything anyone else did, implying latent homosexuality of the victim. Come to think of it, maybe Dave had some issues with his own masculinity...

Dennis, Dave’s interpreter Wasi, & I took him to the airport where he took off his body armor for the last time, handed it to Dennis, shook hands, and walked to the terminal. Afghanistan is probably one of only a few countries on earth where heartfelt goodbyes include the departing saying, “I hope you guys don’t get killed on the way back.” How sweet, I think I’m going to cry.

Fair winds and following seas, Dave...you homo.

Out.

2008-01-20T17:29:00.000+04:30

One of our contractors, David Bremer, is going home. Today GEN Azizuddin, the ANA G-4, arranged a lunch for him. It was delicious.

The stuff wrapped in newspaper is lamb chunks in a piece of flat bread called na'an. There's more na'an, kinda ribbed looking, on plates around the table. There is mantu, which is sort of a meat-filled dumpling covered in yogurt that is wonderful. There was another meat dish that I couldn't identify. On two of the larger platters are a bunch of vegetables, along with a sort of meatball with a hard-boiled egg in the center. The three dishes with a white, yellow, and red something is a thick and sweet pudding.

Not visible are three huge dishes of rice with shredded carrots and raisins.

Dinner was followed by fresh fruit: apples, oranges, and bananas.

Before and after the meal we had the mandatory hot tea called chai.

Out.

2008-01-06T21:11:00.000+04:30

Look what followed me home, Ma!

Admittedly, most guys here send things home like rugs, scarfs, antique guns, wooden chests, etc. Not me. I'm sending an Afghan home.

The US Dept of State has streamlined the visa process for Afghan nationals who are interpretor/translators (IT) working for the US. Many of them have taken advantage of the program, to take a chance for the American dream.

My IT, Fida (pronounced like feta cheese), acquired his visa, saved some money and left Kabul today for the two-day multiple-stop plane trip to Dallas, TX. Much to Julie's consternation, I offered to let him stay at our home temporarily. Trust me, I didn't make the offer lightly--I think very highly of this young man.

He graduated from high school and medical school, and is a certified medical technician. That certification probably won't mean much to US medical facilities, but it's a start. While he worked for me as an IT, he moonlighted at the Afghan National Hospital. His father is a government official in the Ministry of Education and is a genuine believer in the importance of education—so much so that he fled to Pakistan with his family during the Taliban rule so his daughters could continue to go to school. Fida has three sisters, one who is married and two younger ones. He has two brothers, one older who is a doctor but works for MPRI as an interpreter/translator because it pays better.

His goal is to find employment, get his own place, become a US citizen, and save enough money to send for his family. He intends to enlist in the US Air Force, and if that doesn't work out, then he'll find work elsewhere. I have little doubt that he'll succeed somehow.

So if/when you see him around, please make him feel welcome. After all, our forefathers were all immigrants to the US once...

Out.

2007-12-30T18:26:00.000+04:30

It's my Birthday!

Big deal.

Today I went to the Ministry of Defense to get the semi-monthly budget numbers, went to the Logistics and Material Readiness offices to discuss fuel consumption data, then back to my office to work on logistics measures of effectiveness for the Afghan National Army.

After work I went to the gym and did the Crossfit workout of the day: five sets of 500m rowing, 50 squats, and 30 back extensions in 44:45 minutes.

As I write this, I'm about to go outside for the nightly cigar smoking/lie telling at the camp fire we installed in the safe house yard.

Woo hoo.

Edit: A few days after I wrote this, I was informed that it sounded a little bitter. In retrospect, I was kinda feeling sorry for myself that day because I was missing my family. I was here during Christmas and my birthday, which are tragically close together to begin with (five days apart). But I actually did have a good birthday. My wife called me and sang Happy Birthday. I'm lucky that I live in a house off installation that has a non-secure internet connection. Julie can call me via internet phone service Skype and it's a local call--the active duty personnel on installation can't download it on government computers. I also received boxes of goodies from Julie & my parents, including a remote controlled Air Hog helicopter which I've been using to terrorize my office mates!

2007-12-21T18:25:00.000+04:30

Entry for December 21, 2007: Went to a USO show yesterday. Miss USA, Lewis Black, Lance Armstrong, Robin Williams, and Kid Rock. It was snowing hard, but we found a spot under cover. It was behind some flagpoles so my pictures aren't great, but it was fun. I laughed so hard at Robin Williams that I almost fell off the ledge I was standing on. Sure, it was marble and covered with snow, but that's besides the point...

2007-12-20T18:25:00.000+04:30

Christmas Dance: Click here for a Merry Christmas dance, from my family to yours.

2007-12-09T18:24:00.000+04:30

I was going to title this entry “Barbarians” but then decided that the term “Barbarians” seems too complimentary.

Afghanistan is a very rough country. Both the environment and the people. Rugged mountains, arid country, open plains chock full of robbers and killers. Tough men who seldom bathe, and have never seen a flush toilet or the inside of a doctor’s office. Men who think it’s effeminate to wear eyeglasses or yield to oncoming traffic. Children forced by their parents to beg and/or sell worthless trinkets in the streets. A place where men & women cannot be seen together if they are not related or they may be killed. I think I wrote earlier about when the Taliban caught a fifteen-year old boy with American currency so they hung him for being a spy. Something I didn’t see reported in the western media is a report about two children of a government official who woke one morning to find a toy truck sitting outside their house. The toy was rigged with explosives and killed the two young boys. I have a video clip of Taliban fighters cutting off the heads of about ten men that I only watched once because it gave me nightmares. They sawed through the necks with a knife like they would slaughter a goat.

All that being said, I still think the Afghans are good people. Most Afghans are just like you & me: they just want to have a happy, comfortable life and to provide for their families. Most of them aren’t avid Muslims. Like most of the Catholics I know, they don’t go to their services regularly or pray every day. However, in the last few days I’ve started to be bothered by a few things. Taken individually, each might be sloughed off. But I’ve been back from vacation less than a week and…well, you decide.

1. On the way from the airport to my safe house, we passed a sheep being slaughtered. Now I’ve seen animals slaughtered before, and it’s a way of life. But this one was different. It was on the side of the road and the two men at work were bleeding the sheep. They had cut its throat, and were holding it down while it kicked and slowly bled to death, its blood draining into the gutter.

2. We’re working with the Afghans to help them humanely resolve an issue, but they’re resisting us on this one. Recently there was an Afghan Army officer who lost his pistol. In reality, he probably sold it on the black market and it’s now in the hands of Al Qaeda or the Taliban, but we’ll never know. The officer was killed in combat shortly after reporting his pistol was missing. Now the Army is trying to collect the price of the pistol from the dead soldier's widow.

3. I attend a weekly logistics meeting, along with several other mentors, at the Ministry of Defense. One of the things we’re trying to teach and institutionalize is the contracting, budgeting, and acquisition process. At this meeting, the topic came up about a rice vendor who wasn’t delivering rice in accordance with the contract. The commanding officer of Logistics Command, General B, heatedly recommended hanging the rice vendor by one leg in a conex box until he delivered. At first I assumed he was joking, but the other senior Army officers at the meeting, including the Assistant Minister of Defense, seemed to consider his proposal. We finally convinced them that General B’s suggestion was not within standard government contracting procedures and guidelines.

I think we’re making great progress modernizing the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, but they still have a long way to go.

Out.

2007-12-06T18:22:00.000+04:30

: Just got back from vacation in Dallas. Like last time, I ate too much and drank too much, enjoying the cleanliness, safety, and abundance of a civilized society.

Pics are here. They start with some guys at my house after a trip to the gun range to shoot my M4gery. Then my Mom’s birthday, when Julie & I took her to Maggiano’s. A few pics from dinner at Daron & Leah’s house, mostly pics of her delicious homemade pecan pie. Lastly, pics from a party at my cousin Monica’s bar Canuck’s in Lewisville (and Shane’s car made it home that night!).

I also took Julie to the gun range to shoot my Taurus 9mm and Ruger.38 revolver. Had Thanksgiving dinner with my family, and showed my 5-year old nephew Brendan how to stuff a whole piece of pie in his mouth. Julie & I had a great evening one night grilling steaks and drinking wine. Went to the Luther’s one night and drank way too much. Went to the hospital to see Diane’s mom Alice who is making a miraculous recovery from a stroke. Took Digger to Petsmart and put him on the scale to learn he is now 81.6 pounds. Did a few chores around the house but didn’t get to everything on Julie’s list.

When my final flight from Dubai to Kabul arrived, I called the office for a ride. Dave Bremer came to get me, but was delayed because of a suicide bombing on the road to the airport. Yep, I’m back.

2007-11-02T18:22:00.000+04:30

: Just when you think you've seen it all...

I was leaving Camp Phoenix today and I saw some kids chasing a monkey. Yes, a monkey. I walked over to try and get a pic, only got one very poor pic of the monkey on a fence because it was too fast. I told the kids I'd give $1 to whichever one brought the monkey to me. They all took off after it and I never saw the monkey again.

Also added a few pics to the photobucket of tanks at 201st Corps in Pol-E-Charki, and our Halloween party.

Out.

2007-10-25T18:21:00.000+04:30

I get to see some interesting things here. Things that the average American will never see.

Today on the way back from the gym I saw a tough-looking Army soldier in full battle gear (body armor, helmet, 9mm Beretta on a low thigh holster, M4 carbine slung across his back, etc.) walking very purposefully. Nothing too extraordinary--I see those young American heroes all the time. Only this gunslinger was cradling a case of Somoas like a newborn baby. Had a look on his face like he'd slice your throat if you messed with his cookies.

God bless America and God bless the Girl Scouts!

2007-10-24T18:20:00.000+04:30

Cookies!

Yesterday we got an email to send someone for Girl Scout cookies. I didn't think much of it. Actually I thought there was a sale and I missed it. Rats. But I was wrong. Apparently they were donated. I don't yet know who or why, but we have cookies. Some sailors went down to get cookies and came back with armfuls. We have cases of Tagalongs stacked from floor to ceiling here in our office. There goes my diet...

God bless America!

2007-10-18T18:19:00.000+04:30

Recently a 70-year old vet and business owner, James Walton, in Dallas shot and killed a burglar entering his residence—for the second time—and after forty-two calls to the police. Rebecca Aguilar, a reporter for KDFW, ambushed Mr. Walton in an Academy Sporting Goods parking lot and aggressively grilled him, asking him if he was trigger happy and if he wanted to kill. Poor old Mr. Walton was visibly shaken and broke down in tears. http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/pages/Home/Detail?contentId=4640488&version=3&l...

I frequently lurk and sometimes post on a website for gun owners, http://ar15.com/, where I first learned of this story. Members there were outraged and started an operation to express their feelings by writing and calling Ms. Aguilar, KDFW, and Fox News. I also, eloquently and succinctly, expressed my views to the aforementioned entities. Today, Ms. Aguilar was suspended due to the public outrage to which I contributed. http://blogs.dallasobserver.com/unfairpark/2007/10/kdfw_suspends_rebecca_agui...

I think next time I’m in Dallas I might go visit a good friend and gun shop owner, pick up a Winchester Defender and a box of buckshot, wrap it with a big red bow, and deliver it to Mr. Walton as a gift.

God bless America!

Out.

2007-10-17T18:18:00.000+04:30

I can hear Mom now: "You're not leaving the house dressed like that!"
Would-be suicide bomber, kin killed in Afghanistan

Boston Globe Tue, 16 Oct 2007 2:46 AM PDT

KABUL, Afghanistan - A mother who tried to stop her son from carrying out a suicide bomb attack triggered an explosion in the family's home in southern Afghanistan that killed the would-be bomber, his mother, and three siblings, police said yesterday.

2007-09-29T18:17:00.001+04:30

I am happily married to a beautiful, sexy woman. Julie is the love of my life.

We first met in the seventh grade when her family moved to Texas. I’ve had a crush on her ever since, despite the initial rejection over 30 years ago.

Back in the seventh grade I would try to walk her home, even though it was at least one mile out of my way. (I never told her that, I always said I was going to my grandparent’s house near her neighborhood.) About halfway between St. Monica School and her house was a little convenience store called H&H. All the kids who walked that route usually stopped there for Dr Pepper, those nasty tubes of colored sugar we all used to love, and other crap that kids ate in the 70s.

One time I got her alone, away from the other kids. She was sitting on H&H’s front window ledge. I sat down next to her and cautiously asked her if she would “go with me”. Honestly, I didn’t really know what that meant, but some of my friends were “going with” girls, so I assumed it was important.

She said, “I can’t.” Now I was prepared for laughter, NO!, maybe even an OK. But “I can’t” left me dumbfounded. I staggered away, my ego devastated.

She claims to this day that she doesn’t remember the event, but it is etched in my memory forever. It took me another twenty-five years to work up the courage to ask her again.

This time she said yes and we’ve been happily married ever since.

Some things are worth waiting for.

Out.

2007-09-11T18:15:00.000+04:30

Let's show the Marines in Iraq that America supports them!

US Marine Colonel Simcock, the commander of USMC Regimental Combat Team (RCT) 6 in Iraq, is asking for 6,000 positive emails to his Marines. That's one email for each Marine in his RCT command. COL Simcock is concerned about the effect of the negative barrage that those Marines are getting through the electronic media. So far, they've only mustered 2,000 emails. That's a crying shame compared to the amount of crap I get daily in email. This is a legitimate request. It's not one of the “little Johnny wants to break the world's record in Christmas cards” situations. It takes only 30 seconds of your time. Here's the email address:

RCT-6lettersfromh@gcemnf-wiraq.usmc.mil

If you're reading this email, then you can probably click on the address, type a few words, and then hit 'send' to be all done. It doesn't have to be the Gettysburg Address. Something as simple as "Hello, Marine. We thank you for what you're doing. You are in a noble task. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Best wishes & get home soon." is more than sufficient.

An excerpt from an interview with the Colonel:: GRIM: Is there anything that you and your Marines need that we could send you?
COL SIMCOCK: (Chuckles.) I'll tell you what, the one thing that all Marines want to know about—and that includes me and everyone within Regimental Combat Team 6—we want to know that the American public is behind us. We believe that the actions that we're taking over here are very, very important to America. We're fighting a group of people that, if they could, would take away the freedoms that America enjoys. If anyone—you know, just sit down, jot us—throw us an e-mail, write us a letter, let us know that the American public is behind us. Because we watch the news just like everyone else. It's broadcast over here in our chow halls and the weight rooms, and we watch that stuff, and we're a little bit concerned sometimes that America really doesn't know what's going on over here, and we get sometimes concerns that the American public isn't behind us and doesn't see the importance of what's going on. So that's something I think that all Marines, soldiers and sailors would like to hear from back home, that in fact, yes, they think what we're doing over here is important and they are in fact behind us.

2007-09-10T18:14:00.000+04:30

I just got a care package from the Prestoncrest Church of Christ in Dallas, Texas. I don't know how they got my name and address, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

God bless America!

2007-09-03T18:14:00.000+04:30

Children learn the art of rug making by practicing on small novelty rugs. This one was made by children in Mazar-e Sharif, Afghanistan. I paid $20.

2007-09-02T18:13:00.000+04:30

This afternoon we met with General Shah Aga to discuss some budget issues. After the meeting, he offered to take us to see some sights, as a sort of going away gift for Vic.

First we went to the tomb of Mohammed Zahir Shah, the last Shah of Afghanistan. The tomb is undergoing renovation, and you can still see rocket holes in the ceiling. Hard to tell who shot the rockets, since that part of Kabul was fought on by the Soviets, Dostum, Massoud, and the Taliban. Zahir Shah is considered the “Father of Afghanistan” and only recently died in July 2007.

Then we went to Bala Haizar. You can see all of Kabul and all the way to Logar Province. The ruins of the ancient British fort are still visible, as are rusting hulks of Russian tanks and armored personnel carriers.

Out.

2007-09-01T18:12:00.000+04:30

I got some great pictures today.

As part of my in-brief, we visited the ANA Central Work Shop (CWS). The commander of CWS is General Jawid. CWS is supposed to be the ANA central vehicle maintenance facility. Our tour guide was Captain Allen Kelly, USAF. The site where CWS now sits was originally an ordnance depot built by the occupying British in the mid 1800s. The US is rebuilding and renovating the compound. Many of the original buildings are being refaced and fitted with electricity, plumbing, etc. Most of the buildings need the floors raised because the original dirt floors are lower than the outside ground, causing water to settle inside during rains and the winter.

It was a clear day so I got some good pics of the mountains surrounding Kabul, very close to CWS.

Having been shelled by the Soviets, Taliban, and US, during excavation the workers have to be extremely careful about turning up old ordnance and/or unexploded munitions. This morning, for example, the workers found a cannonball, probably over 100 years old. They have to leave it in place until Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) teams can inspect and dispose of it because it could still contain explosive materials.

As part of the clean up, contractors removed truckloads of debris. Some of it had not been moved for years. In one old warehouse, they found some antique brass British cannons. Some of the cannon had regimental crests still on them. Captain Kelly did some research and was able to identify the regiment as that of Field Marshal Lord Frederick Sleigh Roberts. Lord Roberts was one of the most successful British commanders in Afghanistan, having defeated the Muhammad Yakub Khan, the Afghan emir, and later became Commander-in-Chief of the British Army.

On the way back to Eggers we passed through downtown Kabul. I got some great street scene pics from our vehicle. This new camera is fantastic.

After lunch, thank Allah, we visited the slaughter house. Like the sewing factory, operating a slaughter house isn’t usually considered a military core competency, but it works for the Afghans. First we had chai with the commander, General Zaref. General Zaref is a friendly old warrior with a comb-over and the longest, bushiest eyebrows I’ve ever seen. The slaughter house purchases cows, goats and sheep daily. They butcher the animals and transport the meat to military units in and around Kabul. Because there is no refrigeration or refrigerated trucks, the slaughter house operates every day. We’re working on modernizing their facilities, but these things take time. Specifically, the Czech Republic has agreed to modernize the slaughter house. At one time the Iranians promised to help, but all they did was paint some broken refrigeration units and put a big sign over the entrance boasting about their assistance to the people of Afghanistan. I put the slaughter house pics in a separate photobucket album so the weak-stomached can avoid them if desired.

Out.

2007-08-31T18:09:00.000+04:30

It's Friday, day two of the Muslim weekend. Typically I go to Camp Phoenix with a group of guys. I usually hit the gym and maybe play some racquetball, then head over to the PX for some shopping and a smoothie. Then we hang out at the picnic tables outside the PX and tell lies and smoke cigars for an hour or two before heading back to the safe houses. A couple of guys take golf clubs because there's an open area where they can practice their drives.

This morning, as we were congregating in the safe house yard to get in the vans to go to Phoenix, we heard a loud explosion. It sounded like it came from the general vicinity of the airport. I went up onto the roof of the White House to see if I could spot anything. Nothing. Meanwhile, Wayne called BDOC to check on the road conditions. BDOC didn't know yet and said to call back later. A while later we called again and the road to Phoenix was Amber (movement OK). The road to the airport was Black (no movement allowed). I later heard that a suicide bomber exploded at the entrance to the airport--the same entrance I went through with Minister Jawhari's convoy just a few days ago. Two Afghan police officers were killed.

I didn't have a smoothie today, I had a white mocha frappe instead. It was delicious.

Out.

VBIED: 31 Aug, Kabul Province, Kabul District, Kabul City, District 10, Kabul International Airport – At 07:33 a VBIED targeted a two vehicle ISAF patrol near the entrance to Camp Kaia (Kabul Airport). The bomber reportedly detonated the device prematurely. There were ANA soldiers and civilian bystanders in the area at the time of the detonation. Two ANA soldiers were reportedly killed and approximately eight civilian bystanders were injured.

2007-08-30T18:08:00.000+04:30

Today, my soon-to-be predecessor Vic Solero and I went to GS/G4 to discuss some budget issues with Gen Shah Aga but he wasn’t in. Only about half the officers we usually see there were in today. It’s Thursday, the start of the Muslim weekend, so many of them managed to be somewhere else for the half day…

So Vic took me to see the sewing factory. The ANA has many of their uniforms, flags, accouterments, etc., manufactured at their own sewing factory. Not usually a military function, western armies like the US contract out the manufacture of those items. However, this factory is self-sufficient; the items they make and sell pays for the factory’s cost. Of greater importance, however, is the labor force. Almost all of the workers are women, and almost all of them are military widows. The factory also has a nursery, which is extremely forward-thinking for this country. So those of you who may read this (Mom, Julie, Kim), the nursery needs clothes, school materials, toys, etc., for ages 3 months to 5 years…

I took as many pictures as I could, but that stupid old camera just wouldn’t cooperate. There are some in the photobucket, after the LogCmd pics. I broke down and bought a new camera today. Not very expensive, but it has 8 megapixels and optical zoom. Damn thing didn’t come with a memory card though so it looks like I have to hit the bazaar tomorrow.

By the way Mom, one of the pictures that didn’t turn out was some little old Afghan ladies embroidering flags. They were using antique sewing machines that would probably cost a small fortune in the US, they were so old.

Out.

2007-08-28T18:08:00.000+04:30

Yesterday was the ribbon cutting for the new Mechanics School at the Afghan National army (ANA) Logistics Command (LogCmd), Central Movement Agency. I first went to the office of the Deputy Minister of Defense, Acquisition, Technology, and Logistics, Minister Jawhari. General Shah Aga was there with some members of his staff. After meeting Minister Jawhari and some small talk, we left for LogCmd. Our vehicle was in the Minister’s convoy with security at the front & back. We took a route through the airport. After exiting the airport gate, I noticed several soldiers standing guard along the highway—more security for our convoy. We entered LogCmd and The Minister and staff were immediately whisked into a maintenance bay set up for an opening ceremony.

The event was started by a Muslim prayer by a Mullah, then several people spoke, including the Minister. We were, as usual, served chai (a weak green tea), dried corn, almonds, and raisins. After the opening ceremony, we were escorted around to see the various classrooms, maintenance areas, etc. Then we went into the Officer’s dining facility.

I wasn’t expecting lunch, but it was a pleasant surprise. The meal was served family-style, with heaping platters of food. Each place setting had a soda (mine was an orange soda from Pakistan), a bottle of water, and some soupy, strong yogurt in a bowl. First we were served soup. It had some leafy vegetables in it along with some other ingredients I didn’t recognize, and strong pepper seasoning. I was unsure of the etiquette in a dinner of Afghans (all male) but I quickly learned that there was no etiquette. Everybody reached for whatever they wanted. There was an Afghan staple of fried rice with raisins and naan which is a round flatbread, beef kabobs, spicy goat meat, fruit, and melon. Surprisingly, I didn’t get sick afterwards.

On the way out of the dining facility, I saw a senior Enlisted ANA soldier who was in my last supply class at Central Supply Depot. I said “Chotorasti?” (How are you?) to him and shook his hand. He beamed. I figured out later that I must have made his day. Here was an important American military advisor, traveling with the Deputy Minister of Defense, who acknowledged him. Cool.

I added some pictures to photobucket, but my camera is dying and half of them didn’t come out. Stupid camera.

Out.

2007-08-26T18:06:00.000+04:30

Spent my second full day at my new job today. I still work for MPRI, Logistics Directorate, Combined Security Transition Command-Afghanistan (CSTC-A), but instead of being the Logistics Training Director for Central Supply Depot, I an the senior mentor to General Shah Aga, Director of Logistics and Materiel Readiness for the Afghan National Army. Yesterday I met Gen Shah Aga in his office at G-4. Today I attended a meeting at the Ministry of Defense with the general and his staff. Gen Shah Aga is a likable, heavy-set, forward-thinking old warrior who fled to Pakistan with his family during the Taliban rule and returned to help his country grow and prosper.

Most of the high ranking Afghan officers have mentors/trainers, many of whom are MPRI personnel. The coalition (and specifically the US) is pouring millions of dollars of support, equipment, weapons, etc., into this country and we're trying to help the government learn to control and allocate their army like the US. The only system they know is the old Soviet system which never was very good anyway.

On another note, my previous boss, Dana Call, just got back from vacation. He lives in South Dakota and happened to be home at the same time my dad rode to Sturgis, SD, for the annual Harley rally. Dad stayed at Dana's house for a few days. When Dana returned, he brought a digital camera for his driver, Sheron. Yesterday Sheron brought his camera to me and asked me to download the pics he took over the weekend. I posted them here. I thought it was interesting what a true Afghan took pics of on his day off.

Out.

2007-08-23T18:05:00.000+04:30

Went to Bagram today. It is about a 1.5 hour drive from Kabul, through some desolate areas with numerous scattered villages and police checkpoints. I saw the usual assortment of nomads, goats, donkeys, camels, and insane drivers. The road itself is pockmarked with potholes and, oddly enough, broken down vehicles seldom move off to the shoulder.

Nothing much too exciting to report. I posted a few pics, but I think my little Sony 2.0 megapixels Cybershot camera has about had it. I'm thinking about investing in a real camera...

Out.

2007-08-04T18:04:00.000+04:30

Did I mention the bombing on my first day back to work? I was sitting in my office discussing my vacation with Dana & Jim, between 0800 and 0900, when we heard a loud explosion and the conex rattled. Soon we started getting sitreps. Apparently there was a military convoy turning into Camp Phoenix about one mile away and a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device (VBIED), otherwise known as a car bomb, turned in with them and detonated. Four military personnel and four Afghan nationals were injured—no fatalities except the bomber. Yep, that never happened in Dallas…

2007-08-03T18:02:00.000+04:30

Finally, some much appreciated time off. I spent 18 glorious days home in Dallas, Texas, USA.

I left Kabul on July 9. Sheron drove me to the airport, and being the seasoned Afghanistan traveler that I now am, I took only a carry-on and made it through the airport to the plane without paying any tips/bribes. In the waiting area, I met a Norwegian Air Force officer going home on emergency leave, and a DynCorp employee going on leave to China to see the Great Wall. Got to the airport in Dubai, had some time to kill so I took a taxi to the Emirates Mall, ate some Lebanese food, and watched Transformers. Flew into Heathrow Airport in London and have to catch the connecting flight at Gatwick Airport. London is lush and green this time of year. I didn’t see much interesting on the bus between airports—I could have been in Virginia, except everyone was driving on the wrong side of the road. At Gatwick, two young security officers took great pleasure in making a scene over a single male traveling without luggage from Afghanistan. As they were inspecting my carry-on, I had an almost overwhelming desire to yell “BOOM” but I was able to restrain myself. Julie picked me up at DFW and I was immediately struck by how green Dallas is (everything is brown in Afghanistan, and I mean everything). I was also initially a little nervous about all the vegetation and likely insurgent hiding places. But once I arrived home and enjoyed many cold beverages on my patio with my wife, I started to settle back in to the decadent infidel way of life.

Julie won a weekend out by being the top producer at PrimeLending, so the first Friday we checked into the W, an upscale hotel downtown. We had a very expensive and delicious dinner at the top-rated restaurant Nine. Back to the hotel and the trendy Ghost Bar upstairs, which features a glass-floored balcony where you can look down and see tiny little people walking down the streets on downtown Dallas. Click here for pics.

Saturday is kind of a blur. We went to Shane & Sam’s house for a birthday party. Lots of children, and lots of Shiner Boch. Adults and children all piled into their awesome pool and while the kids played, those of us without kids drank and swam and told stories until it was time to go to my parents’ house. Mom wanted to have a little welcome home party for me. Barbeque and more Shiner. My brother’s friend unwisely presented me with a gift of Patrón, which quickly escalated our insobriety. Shane showed up also and helped me appreciate the fine Tequila. Then Julie, Shane & I went to our friends Dave & Diane’s house. Don’t remember much after that. Slept in on Sunday and went to Mom’s for lunch. Danny made a traditional Czech meal called Kapusta which is a cabbage & potato stew. Not exactly what you’d normally serve on a hot July day in Texas, but this was a special occasion. Shane came over to retrieve his car. Click here for pics.

On Wednesday, I went to my regular monthly Marine poker game. They rescheduled the game during my vacation time. It’s a group of former active duty Marines who have been playing poker on the first Wednesday of every month for years; I’ve been a regular member for about three years now. I won $23.

The next weekend we went to Galveston. Sort of a semi-annual event, the Luther family and ours rent a beach house one weekend in the summer and have a blast. Normally we drink too much; sing & dance; tell lies; and eat like starving dogs. This year was no exception. David did most of the cooking: steaks and garlic mashed potatoes, shrimp and Tilapia, huge cholesterol-laden breakfasts. We absorbed cases of beer and rum & cokes. We terrorized the neighbors with plastic-pellet toy guns. We caught & released dozens of hermit crabs. Daniel Boone’s “Beautiful Sunday” was the unofficial theme song. Mike, DJ, Jeni, and Katie made an eerily realistic sand-woman with piercing lifelike eyes. Julie & I stumbled across it at night and it scared the bejeezus out of us. Julie and I stayed one day longer after the Luthers & the kids all left, and we explored Galveston and had some delicious seafood in the local restaurants. Click here for pics.

We had a new fence built while I was home, a stained cedar 8’ board-on-board privacy fence with bottom board and cap. Northlake Fence & Deck bent over backwards to ensure it was finished before I left again for Afghanistan.

The last night home, Julie had a little party for me. The Luthers, Mike and his friends, and Shane came to the house and sampled many fine adult beverages and grilled burgers. The next day, as usual, Shane came over to get his car.

Overall, Julie & I had a great vacation. I got to spend time with my wife, family & friends; rode my Harley and drove my Mustang; played with the dogs & cats; purchased two new rifles; ate Mexican food and McDonald’s. I also enjoyed a few other things that most Americans take for granted: I went outside without body armor; I drank water from the tap; I drove down the street without looking for suspected bombers, and with my windows down; I didn’t see one single AK-47 assault rifle; my car wasn’t searched once; I went to the grocery store; I watched TV in English; I slept through the night without being awakened by low-flying helicopters or the early-morning Azan (Mullah’s call-to-prayer five times daily); I kissed my wife in public and held her hand.

God bless America.

Out.

2007-06-24T18:01:00.000+04:30

Going home on leave in a couple weeks, don't want to forget what little Dari I've learned, so here are my notes:: Dokhtar – girl

Zan – woman

Bacha – boy

Karachi – cart

Khar – donkey

Sag – dog

Gurg – wolf

Peshak – cat

Asp – horse

Gow – cow

Shadi – monkey

Gosfand – sheep

Buz – goat

Boro – go

Baba – grandfather

Stad – stop

Tayara – airplane

Man dostat daram – I love you

Man ham dostat daram – I love you too

Tashakor – thank you

Chotorasti – How are you?

Khobastam – I am fine.

Khobasti – You are fine?

Sobbakhair – Good morning

Chastbakhair – Good afternoon

Shabbakhair – Good night

Shambakhair – Good evening

Ba omid dee dar – See you tomorrow

Khaira – no problem

Salam – Hello (informal)

Salamalaikom – Hello (formal)

Allah akbair – God is great

Inshallah – God willing

Bali – Yes

Ne – no

2007-06-05T18:00:00.000+04:30

Ah, another fun-filled day in Afghanistan.

Jim Foster recently joined us, taking over Dorothy's position as Material Accounting Manager. Dorothy was moved to the Ministry of Interior (MOI) to manage five employees in Kandahar. Kind of a demotion, but that's another story...

Jim Foster is a likable old guy, former Air Force, sort of a dottering grandfather type, and looks a little like Droopy Dog.

Part of his in-processing and acclimation to working with the Material Control Team (MCT) at D-1 is to visit the vehicle area at D-2 in Pol-E-Charki. Dana wanted to take him out there and meet with the manager, Mark Orthman. Troy and I went along for the ride.

D-2 is further down Jalalabad Road, towards Pakistan. Incoming vehicles are staged there for issue to the ANA. Mostly US-made military vehicles, there are also a variety of vehicles from other countries, including some old Russian trucks left over from the Soviet occupation.

After Jim's tour of D-2, on the way back to D-1, we decide to stop at the ISAF base for lunch. After getting some Euros from the ATM machine, we went to an Italian restaurant. Dana & Jim had steaks (I saved the bones for the yard dogs at D-1) and Troy & I had pizzas. Dana also bought pizzas and sodas for our two Afghan drivers.

After that delicious treat, we headed back to D-1. The MPRI warehouse manager, Ramon Padilla (loud, opinionated Puerto Rican) was supposed to meet with LT Hogan (US Navy) about the weapons inventory and Dana wanted to be there to referee. However, just before we turned off Jalalabad Road to D-1, we got a call from BDOC that there was a suspected suicide bomber in the area. So instead of turning we went straight to our safe houses.

So now it's a little after 1:00 PM, I have a full belly (pizza and two cokes), I'm in my room in my shorts and t-shirt and the bed is calling my name.

Out.

2007-04-26T17:58:00.000+04:30

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.

2007-04-03T17:57:00.000+04:30

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.

2007-04-02T17:55:00.000+04:30

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.

2007-03-29T17:54:00.000+04:30

I just found out that one of my first entries here was published in the Texas Mortgage Press, an industry magazine of the Texas Association of Mortgage Brokers (TAMB). I don’t think too much about mortgages and real estate anymore, except when I talk to my wife Julie who is a loan officer with PrimeLending. But news of my article made me think today about how much my circumstances have changed over the last three months.

Last week I borrowed a video camera from our Supply Records Manager, Troy Huntley. Troy is a retired Marine Corps staff non-commissioned officer. He’s been with MPRI here in Afghanistan for almost one year. He and his wife live in Jacksonville, Florida. Some have suggested that Troy resembles Disney's Ranger Woodlore, but you didn't hear that from me. I used his camera to tape the drive to/from work so I could send it home to give my family a little flavor of what it’s like here. When I told Julie what I did, she started laughing. Then I realized how funny that must have sounded, “Honey, I videotaped my drive home from work for you!”

Like many readers of my now published journal, my wife’s drive home everyday is much like mine was when I worked for Ed Fussell at Mercantile Mortgage so long ago. From prestigious north Dallas down Preston Lane to LBJ, then west for about a mile or so and turn left at the Galleria. About another two miles and into the driveway of our four-bedroom, three-bath home within walking distance of a park, schools, and shopping. The most stressful part of the drive was when something happened to cause a delay—maybe a Dallas Police officer had pulled over a banker in a BMW for going 10 miles per hour over the posted speed limit, causing on-lookers to slow down. The scariest part of the drive was either passing a landscape truck with persons of questionable citizenship inside, or being passed by a student from one of the many local private schools driving too fast in his mother’s Jaguar.

I was thinking about that on my way to work this morning. As usual we checked with BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) on road conditions before leaving. Portions of Jalalabad Road (a road we often take) were Black, meaning no unnecessary travel. Part of the reason was from intelligence sources that I am not privy to, but apparently the military suspected a threat. Part of it might have had to do with the suicide bomber that killed four civilians yesterday in a Kabul market. I also heard an unconfirmed report that Baghram Air Base took some incoming fire last night. What all that means is that we had to take an alternate route to work. (Imagine you’re listening to the morning news on your way to work. Traffic is backed up on the North Dallas Parkway because of an accident, so you decide to take Central Expressway instead. Same thing.)

I can’t describe the exact route we took, for security reasons, but I got the best view of Bala Hissar I’ve seen yet. Bala Hissar is an ancient fortress that was built in the 5^th century. Of course I didn’t bring my camera today. We also passed some early Afghan houses. They weren’t occupied, and I assume they were still standing for historic reasons. In previous posts I described some contemporary Afghan houses as “mud huts”. I was trying to use literary license to color my description, but what I was really talking about was block-shaped buildings constructed from sun-baked bricks that were produced locally. The houses I saw today were really mud huts—they looked like dirt igloos.

Although the scenery was a little different from usual, I didn’t get the opportunity to gawk much; my attention was elsewhere. Just a few months ago I drove to work scanning the road ahead for speed traps. Today I watched everyone everywhere. Any man with a beard could be Taliban. Any woman in a burqa could be a disguised Talib. Anyone anywhere could be a suicide bomber. Any roadside debris could be an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). Just a few months ago I took notice when I saw an occasional police cruiser pass me from the opposite direction. Maybe, if I was really observant, I might see an armed forces recruiter in a nondescript government sedan. Today I saw three armored convoys; Swedish, Italian, and Turkish. Just a few months ago getting to work was uneventful and I was immediately thinking about going home. Today I was thankful to safely arrive at the depot with American military, Afghan forces, and private security around me, and already wondering if road conditions would worsen and delay my ability to leave for the trip back to my quarters.

A lot has changed for me in the last three months. Only nine months left on my contract. I’m already thinking about extending…

2007-03-14T17:53:00.000+04:30

We are issuing these four door Ford Rangers to the ANA (Afghan National Army) and ANP (Afghan National Police). The one in this picture is Army, the Police ones are Forest Green. Looks like a handy and sturdy vehicle. I like the idea of four full doors on a Ranger. I wonder why these aren't sold in the US? Maybe because they're manufactured in Taiwan? Oh yeah, they're diesel too. Hmm...

2007-03-07T17:53:00.000+04:30

I wonder what it would cost to ship a dog from Afghanistan to Texas...

2007-03-07T17:52:00.000+04:30

As if things aren't bad enough, sometimes we get reports like these:

UXO explosion: 04 March, Herat Province, Zende Jan District – One person was killed when he stepped on an anti-personnel landmine. It is believed the device was deployed during the Soviet era.

UXO recovered: 04 March, Paktya Province, Gardez District, Gardez City – Five Soviet era anti-tank rockets were uncovered during construction work. The ordinance has been removed.

So not only does the local populace have to worry about getting caught in crossfire between Taliban & coalition forces, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a Muslim suicide bomber decides to make his debut, but they also occasionally get vaporized by old landmines left here as little reminders of Soviet occupation. Oh boy.

2007-02-25T17:49:00.000+04:30

I couldn't resist. Dumbass terrorists.

Bombers Killed: Three men were killed when the bomb they were carrying detonated. The bomb detonated after their bicycle went over a bump in the road in the central Pakistani town of Chechawatni. Their target was either a cattle market or the funeral procession of a recently murdered policeman. Pakistani Security Forces are on high alert following a series of suicide bombings and arrests through out the country.

So these three jackasses were riding one bicycle (I've seen that here) with their little homemade bomb strapped to the handlebars, on their way to become "martyrs" for Allah, when their bicycle hit a bump and BOOM! Now that's funny. I wonder if they got their 72 virgins?

2007-02-18T17:48:00.000+04:30

This is my second attempt to write this entry. I had a beautiful literary masterpiece written previously, but the system crashed and I lost it. Last week I was thinking that my blog was looking a little bare and it was time to write something, but I was out of ideas. Mr. Big Hands was at the gate on Wednesday but I didn’t have my camera. I’m saving him for when I can get some pics to augment that story.

Thursday started out as any other day. Breakfast at 0530, then off to D-1 for more POI development, translation, and review. Strawberry, our crippled yard dog (sort of a cross between Pivo and Cooper), met me at the office for her morning snack. I always liberate a sausage link from the DFAC in the mornings for her. She must not be Muslim because she likes the pork sausages as much as the turkey ones. People that have been here a while told me that she used to be healthy, and would run with a beautiful athletic stride. Then one day she started favoring a hind leg, having apparently been hit by a vehicle. She still runs on three legs, like many natives of this country, adapting to her unfortunate circumstances.

Thursday, of course, is the beginning of the Islamic weekend, so we took off at noon and headed home. We always travel in pairs at least, with four vehicles and drivers dedicated to our section. Heading back along our usual route, we were stopped at a military road block on Jalalabad Road.


OK, Mom and Julie, stop reading now.


Mom, Julie, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8MDNFaGfT4


There were about a dozen ANA soldiers with AK-47 assault rifles redirecting traffic down a side road off of Jalalabad Road. Our idiot driver at first attempted to go through the soldiers, at which they became extremely agitated. Dana and I quickly and unceremoniously corrected the driver and ordered him to follow the soldiers’ instructions. My heartfelt advice to anyone reading this: never argue with men carrying AK-47s.

We got out of that situation just fine, and were on an alternate route back to Camp Eggers, when we were stopped dead in traffic just before Massoud Circle. Massoud Circle is a traffic circle dedicated to a Kurd resistance leader killed by the Taliban. Massoud Circle is also the site of one of the worst IED attacks on a US military convoy. With Massoud Circle within sight, we were in a stand-still traffic jam, blocked in on three sides by other vehicles, and on the left side by the concrete barrier separating lanes of traffic. Normally, this type of activity would indicate that President Karzai was moving through the area. Traffic is typically stopped or rerouted to secure his convoy and escorts. But that day, President Karzai was in London meeting with Tony Blair.

We were starting to feel a little uneasy, blocked in traffic like sitting ducks. Some tricky and skillful maneuvering by our driver got us out of our position and heading in the opposite direction towards the airport. Our driver, Sharon, being a local and knowing the area, with best intentions (we presume) attempted to take a side road to get us back on track. The turn was into a narrow alley in a poor neighborhood. I say “poor neighborhood” to differentiate it from the safe houses. These were mud buildings, cluttered with daily activity of average Kabul natives. Not knowing what was ahead since we couldn’t see past the first turn about 20 meters in, we directed Sharon to back up and keep the vehicle on major, paved streets only.

He got us back on the main road and drove at breakneck speed in the direction of the airport. Keep in mind that there are no traffic laws in Afghanistan—at least I’ve never seen indication of any. Traffic circles are usually the most exciting, being congested with vehicles, pedestrians, donkey carts, trucks, soldiers, bicycles, and just about anything else you can imagine, intertwining in every direction with no clear right of way. It’s actually quite amazing to see, like a choreographed dance, all the players seem to move with an inherent grace, sort of like a school of shad or flock of sparrows shifting direction and skirting obstacles almost as one being, never colliding.

We made it back to the safe houses just fine. Never did learn what the detour and congestion was all about. After dropping Dana off at his house, the driver was going to my house and we were stopped for a short while in normal traffic. Kids, as usual, came up to my window to sell gum or simply beg. There was something I hadn’t seen before—a woman in a buqua leading a blind man. Impossible to tell how old she was, I got the feeling that the man was her son, as opposed to being her husband. I rolled down my window and gave her all the cash I had on hand—three dollars.

Friday was a better day. Went to Camp Phoenix with some other MPRI personnel and played racquetball, then went to the PX and ate pizza. Went back home and took a nap until suppertime. Fridays are a feast. This Friday I had steak and crab legs, with pralines & cream ice cream for desert.

Yesterday was a bonanza. I had two boxes in the mail. One was some PT shirts and shorts I ordered with the $30 Wal-Mart gift certificate I won in the monthly photo contest; and the other was from Julie. Valentine’s card & candy, magazines, headphones, an optical mouse for my notebook computer, and assorted mail.

Now it’s Sunday morning, a normal work day, and I’m sitting in my conex box/office writing this in MS Word to copy into the blog later. Has to be later because the internet is down. It’s snowing hard, and whenever it rains or snows, the internet goes down.

I added some new pics to the photobucket. You’ll see the burqua woman & blind man; my interpreter/translators Aimal & Abdullah; Dana; Dana’s driver, Sharon; and Strawberry.

Out.

2007-02-08T17:46:00.000+04:30

Have you ever noticed how on TV shows and in the movies, the bad guys are always horrible shots? They can spray countless bullets at the hero and miss every time. There might be some truth to that. We get daily Security Reports on activities the previous day. Here's an excerpt of the one I received yesterday:

Rocket/Mortar Fire: 07 Feb, Kabul Province, Kabul District, Kabul City, Two sets, reportedly of two rockets each, were fired at Kabul City. The point of origin was determined as Bagrami District. The first set impacted in an area between the Airport and Camp Souter. The second set impacted on the ANA range. No casualties or damage resulted from either.

So four rockets were fired and they all missed... Now I'm not complaining, I am quite happy that the insurgents can't shoot. I just thought it was noteworthy.

Also interesting are the reports of suicide bombers. I think I have this suicide bomber thing figured out. The reason for suicide bombers is because the insurgents are such lousy shots. Since they can't seem to be able to hit the side of a barn from the inside with the doors closed, they use suicide bombers to increase the probability of a hit. However, what you don't hear about on the news, are those suicide bombers who also miss. Here are some fairly common reports:

BBIED: 31 Jan, Nangarhar Province, Muhmand Dara District, Torkham Border Post - A suicide bomber, wearing or carrying a device entered the border post building and detonated his device. Initial reports indicate that the bomber was the only casualty.

VBIED: 04 Feb, Kandahar Province, Kandahar District, Kandahar/Kabul road – An ISAF convoy was subjected to a VBIED attack. No casualties, other than the suicide bomber, were reported. Only minor damage to a convoy vehicle was reported.

So they can't shoot and even the suicide bombers often kill only themselves.See? Don't worry about me--I'm not in danger! Death to the Taliban!

2007-02-04T17:45:00.000+04:30

Today was interesting.

Alex Henderson arrived in-country about a week after I did. A retired Army Warrant Officer, Alex is a confident, outgoing guy. He let it slip that his buddies call him "Hollywood". Easy to believe that--Hollywood has curly hair, baby doe eyes, and a girl in every port. Like many of the guys here, he worked for KBR previously, in Djibouti. His last assignment in the Army took him to Bagram Air Base, about 60 miles north of Kabul. He has a twelve-year old daughter living with his mom.

When new employees get here, we are all assigned a laptop computer, among other things. In our conex box/office at D-1, we have a wireless Internet connection. D-1 is where I work--it is the Afghan National Army (ANA) National Supply Depot. There are also two other National Supply Depots called D-0 and D-2. Those of you familiar with military logistics will probably point out that there can only be one National Supply Depot. I agree, but things are different here in Afghanistan. Don't even start on the problem of having a "D-0". Back to the story: Alex's computer was never able to establish an Internet connection. For reasons too involved to flesh out here, we were never able to get our sole tech support guy to fix it. So today our boss, Dana Cook, sent Alex & I out into the city to buy a new Internet card on the economy (reimbursable, of course).

Did I tell you about Dana Cook? He's a crusty, loud former Army maverick from South Dakota. In the few weeks that I've been here, working from a desk next to his, I know all I'll ever need to know about hunting buffalo, elk, coyotes, rabbits, deer, prairie dogs, and whatever else walks, runs, crawls, swims or flies in or around the Black Hills. His wife sounds like a sweet woman and she must be an absolute saint, I'm sure. Interesting also to get a local's perspective on Harley riders, the Sturgis Rally, and Indians. Don't get me wrong, I'm picking on him in case he ever reads this. Dana is actually a great guy and has invited me & my family to stay at his house next time we go to Sturgis to do some fishing, and perhaps consume some adult beverages.

Alex & I grabbed one of our Interpreter-Translators (IT), Gee, and headed out into town in an MPRI vehicle commandeered by one of our drivers, Abdul. Gee apparently knew where to buy a Internet card. The route started out fairly familiar--down Jalalabad Road toward Camp Eggers. Then we turned off next to the Ministry of Defense toward downtown Kabul. We started to see a lot of people walking alongside the road, and Alex asked the driver where they were headed. "Downtown" he replied.

There are pics in my photobucket album. I'm almost lost for words. Downtown Kabul looked like it was right out of a movie. The first movie that comes to mind is "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome", only the scenery in Thunderdome was cleaner and better organized. Throngs of traffic--everything from military vehicles to donkey wagons to people wagons to people. There seemed to be no order to the chaos. Everything from power cords to 'fresh' produce to fish was available to sale on the streets. Gee had the driver stop and let us out in the middle of it all. Then he led us into what I thought was a storefront shop, instead it was a doorway into a larger "mall" in the interior. Wow. It was an open courtyard, with about seven stories of shops overlooking a shabby-looking building in the middle, onto which trash and debris was deposited. The whole place smelled like urine, body odor, and marijuana. Could have been clover cigarettes, but it sure smelled like marijuana to me. We looked into several dirty shops cluttered with electronics, computer equipment, video supplies, etc., from every country and manufacturer imaginable. Gee asked for the part in about a dozen shops before we gave up and headed to another possible source.

That's when I realized that I made a mistake I will never do again. I had left the sanctuary of reasonable civilization needing to urinate. I asked Gee if they had bathrooms there. He hesitated, then led me to the rear of the mall and out into another adjacent enclosed area. There it really got ugly. Two boys, I guess about ten years old, were monitoring the "bathroom". As a stall became available, they handed me about four sheets of pink toilet paper and pointed to the door through which I was supposed to go. I walked into a 4' by 4' concrete stall with a 6" by 8" hole in the floor. The smell was almost unbearable. I skillfully aimed at the hole and completed my task. Through the hole I could plainly see the deposits of the visitors before me. I say "plainly see" because there was sunlight down there. I hesitate to envision what exactly was out there. On the way out, one of the boys had his hand out (imagine that!) and Gee gave him ten Afghanis (about twenty cents).

Our next stop was a smaller, dirtier mall, but we found the Internet card for $70.00 US dollars.

I learned some new words today. While getting back into the vehicle to leave, a police officer told our driver to "Bora, bora!" (Go, go!), and in traffic on the way back, Abdul called somebody a "kaka-e-khar" (uncle of donkey) and a "shadi" (monkey).

I added some pics of "jingle trucks". We get a lot of shipments through Pakistan. The Pakistanis like to decorate their trucks with bright paint and chains sort of like wind chimes. They jingle when they go down the road. Hence the name "jingle trucks"!

2007-01-31T17:44:00.000+04:30

Pretty dull here most days. Usually my day consists of waking up and going to breakfast at 5:30 AM, to work at 6:30 AM, off at 3:00 PM. Go to the gym and dinner, back to the safehouse and give Julie a wake-up call, then in bed by 9:00 PM or so.

We had a little break in the monotony--Monday was a national holiday so I got to sleep in. It was Ashura-when Muslims commemorate the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali in the 9th century. Some of the Shiites display their mourning by flailing themselves bloody with chains.

There are a myriad of military forces here. Besides the US Army, US Air Force, US Navy, and US Marines, I've seen soldiers from Canada, Great Britain, Germany, Egypt, France, Romania, and Turkey. The two oddest services (in my opinion) that I've seen are from Poland (they wear forest green jumpsuits and in addition to their sidearm wear a fighting knife on their belts) and Mongolia. The Mongolian soldiers didn't look any different, I just thought it interesting that soldiers from Mongolia would be deployed here. The ones I saw were here to repair AK-47s.


Camp Eggers has a monthly photo contest. I won 2nd place ($30 Wal-Mart gift certificate) for my photo of the kids in their traditional Afghan outfits.

2007-01-26T21:08:00.000+04:30

I was recently thinking that I didn't have anything interesting to write about. I have a few ideas: Mr. Big Hands; Strawberry, our three-legged yard dog at the depot; the persistent kids always selling scarfs, gum, candy, or simply begging (my fellow loan officers & I could learn a few things about closing a deal from these kids); jingle trucks; the creative and widespread use of our conex boxes by the indigenous personnel--but those stories will have to wait for another day because yesterday turned out to be interesting.

Yesterday was my day off. Like I've said elsewhere, we follow the Islamic weekend which is Thursday noon through Friday. I didn't have much planned--there's not much to do. But I did sleep in--until 7:30 AM anyway. At 7:30 we were roused out of bed for a muster. When that happens, we're supposed to gather at the nearest bunker--in this case, the basement of our safehouse--fully clothed, equipped with our body armor and bug-out bag. A bug-out bag contains essentials like extra clothes, flashlight, knife, leatherman, chemlights, shaving kit, ID, passport, cash, etc. The idea being that this was a drill for in case we had to evacuate. At least that's what I thought (and what I later told Julie). But it turns out that it wasn't completely a drill. There was something--a mortar or rocket--fired at the embassy. We waited around for about an hour and were released, so we went to breakfast.

After breakfast, I walked back to the safehouse, took a shower, and walked back to Camp Egger. Got a haircut, went to the gym, ate lunch, went to the PX. Alex and I were just leaving the PX when we heard gunfire. Automatic weapons fire, and some screaming. Coincidently we were standing near where the armored HMMWVs for the reaction force are stationed. Soldiers scrambled to man the vehicles and load their weapons. I watched it take place and they were rolling in under a minute. Luckily I had my camera and there are a couple shots of the HMMWVs in my photobucket album. Turns out it was only the ANP (Afghan National Police) firing celebratory into the air for some reason.

Shopped at the weekly Friday bazaar on the way home. Franz Zichy, one of my fish buddies from the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets, wanted a Jezail. Jezails can be rifles but typically they are smooth-bore guns. They are unique to Afghanistan, primarily captured British muskets modified for firing over walls and/or from camel-back and highly decorated with Mother-of-Pearl or bone and brass fittings. I found a good one with a working lock and engraved with the West Indies Company stamp and "1811". There is also a pic of this rifle in the photobucket album. A little trivia: Dr. Watson, Sherlock Holmes' sidekick, was shot with a Jezail.

That's all the exciting stuff. Took a nap. Went to dinner. Friday night is steak night. I had steak, crab legs, corn-on-the-cob, and Pralines & Cream ice cream for desert. Walked back to the safehouse and watched "Stomp the Yard". Horrible movie.

Out.

2007-01-21T21:06:00.000+04:30

Several people have asked me what I'm doing here in Afghanistan after spending the last five years working as a Mortgage Loan Officer. I served in the Marines for fifteen years, my last command being the S-4 (Logistics Officer) for the 8^th Marine Corps District in New Orleans, Louisiana. I left the USMC in 2000 and got my securities, insurance, real estate and mortgage licenses, and worked as a loan officer for Mercantile Mortgage in Plano, Texas until last month.

I like a little adventure from time to time, so I decided to take a year off from the mortgage business and go to work for MPRI in Afghanistan.

Let's see if I can explain what I’m doing here in Kabul.

I work for a company called MPRI. MPRI stands for Military Professional Resources, Inc. MPRI is an L-3 Communications company. It is considered by some to be a PMC, or Private Military Company. PMCs exist, in part, because of decades of reduced military budgets and troop numbers. As our politicians have reduced the number of uniformed military, the military has explored ways of coping. They started contracting out essential but non-combat related jobs. When I was in the Marines, I remember about ten years ago our dining facilities (chow halls) were run by Marine cooks, and augmented by Marines on temporary assignment. Remember the cartoon antics of Beetle Bailey peeling potatoes? But then we transitioned to civilian-operated dining halls. A civilian company was contracted to run the Marine Corps dining halls which freed more numbers of Marines for combat specialties. That worked so well that the services began looking at other areas in which civilian contractors could help. Using civilian contractors was also cost-efficient. Now companies like Halliburton-KBR build, operate, and maintain roads, buildings, dining facilities, etc., all over the world on military contracts. Companies like ITT run military communications. Companies like MPRI are training, augmenting, and recruiting military forces.

MPRI is here, in part, to support CSTC-A (Combined Security Transition Command – Afghanistan).

CSTC-A works with the government of Afghanistan and the international community to reconstruct the Afghan security and defense sectors. CSTC-A is reconstructing the Afghan National Army, and the Afghan defense sector by recruiting soldiers, training Afghan recruiters, organizing the Ministry of Defense and mentoring its senior leaders and the General Staff, acquiring weapons, uniforms and equipment, as well as developing the policies and processes needed by a modern army to establish viable acquisition, personnel and other systems required to establish a working military infrastructure.

Afghanistan has been at war for decades. As a result, their military was decimated. CSTC-A is here to help rebuild it. I work for the Logistics Branch of MPRI. One of the things we're doing is establishing the ANA (Afghan National Army) supply system and training their soldiers to run it. CoreIMS is a tool we're using to automate inventory management and control. My job, specifically, is to develop a Program of Instruction (POI) to train ANA soldiers to use a Supply/Inventory software program called CoreIMS. One of the challenges, of course, is that the lesson plans, training materials, exams, etc., must be translated into Dari, the Afghan language. I have two ITs (Interpreter-Translators) who work for me--Aimal and Abdullah. I am qualified to do this because of my prior fifteen years experience in the Marine Corps as a logistics officer and training analyst/curriculum developer.

2007-01-18T21:06:00.000+04:30

Entry for January 18, 2007: Been sick for the last two days. During our in-brief, they told us it was only a matter of time before we got sick because everyone does. Mine came quickly. We didn't go into work yesterday because the roads were Condition Black, meaning only mission-essential vehicle travel allowed. But Black was upgraded to Yellow around noon so Log personnel at D-1 and D-2 (Supply Depot One, where I work; and Supply Depot Two, where Greg & Mark work) went into work. My supervisor, Dana Cook, realized I was sick and told me to stay in bed. I stayed in bed today also. Only missed a half day today though, since the Islam weekend started at noon. Greg came into my room when he got back from work to check on me and take me to lunch, since we have to travel in pairs. Greg is a good guy.

We first met in Alexandria, Virginia, when my group of new hires arrived at MPRI headquarters for orientation and processing. In his late forties, Greg Johnson is a retired Army Sergeant Major. He spent 26 years in the Army, 23 of those in 82nd Airborne. His wife is a school teacher in Atlanta. His first job after retiring from the Army was with KBR in Iraq. Not the first person I met who previously worked for KBR, he says MPRI is a much better company--better management, better pay and benefits, better working conditions. Although is is competent and professional, he makes me laugh with his constant complaining. Not true complaining so much, but the way he does it. His voice and mannerisms will suggest utmost pain, sorrow, & humiliation over the smallest thing.

For example, last night we walked to the Aid Station to get some cold medicine for me on the way to dinner. We arrived shortly after 1700 (5:00 PM) and opened the door just as the medical personnel were about to leave. They said they were closed and I'd have to come back in the morning. I was a little perturbed because it didn't seem like it would be too inconvenient or time consuming for them to reach into the cabinet and hand me some meds, but I wasn't too upset because I could buy some Robitussin and Vitamin C at the PX after dinner. (Has to be after dinner because we aren't allowed to bring bags of any sort into the DFAC--could be concealing IEDs ). But Greg talked about that for the rest of the night, and reminded me of it this afternoon.

Another example was today. After lunch and a successful visit to the Aid Station for the aforementioned medicines, we stopped at MPRI Admin because Greg was expecting a package from his wife. His package was there. She mailed his goodies in a printer box. While all of us are thrilled to receive packages from home, Greg complained the whole way because of the size of the box he had to carry: "Why did she have to send such a big box?"

Walking back to the Falcon House from Camp Eggers, Greg griping about his big box, we were greeted by the usual assortment of children trying to sell scarfs, phone cards, and gum. I liberated an orange from the DFAC earlier and I gave it to "Flipper". Flipper is a kid with deformed arms. Afterwards I felt bad--I wonder how he's going to peel it? Next time I'll get an apple...

2007-01-16T21:03:00.000+04:30

Interesting day today, but let's start with yesterday. Early afternoon yesterday I was sitting at my desk reviewing some POIs when I heard a "boom" and felt the conex shake. (My office is in a converted conex box.) I ran outside and saw two ANA soldiers pointing to the sky above us. They said it was an RPG (rocket propelled grenade). Later I heard that it was an RPG fired at the nearby UN compound. A little excitement, but we all went back to work.

Today I am sitting in my office when we are informed that a vehicle with explosives was just discovered at the front gate to nearby Camp Phoenix. Now I can neither confirm nor deny the following part, but here's what I heard. Guards noticed an unfamiliar vehicle approaching. It appeared to be loaded down and only had one occupant--the driver. They trained their weapons on the driver and demanded that he stop. Now at Camp Phoenix there is an Afghan national that is a story himself. His nickname is Rambo and he lost his family to the Taliban. On a revenge crusade, he has taken it upon himself to assist in the protection of Camp Phoenix. He has a big stick and regularly chases off any loiterers or beggars outside the main entrance. Well, when this vehicle with explosives was stopped outside the gate, Rambo ran to it, pulled the driver through the side window, and began beating him mercilessly. The gate guards rescued the driver from Rambo (no word on how quickly they moved to assist). Upon inspection, they found explosives in the vehicle. Sometime later this afternoon I heard a loud boom that shook my conex box much more vigorously than yesterday. I heard that it was EOD (Explosives Ordnance Disposal) disposing of the aforementioned vehicle. We also heard that yesterday's RPG was in fact a negligent discharge (which means it was one of ours that went off by accident--right).

02/13/07 Edit: Talked to a Navy officer today and the subject of Rambo came up. He heard about him from the internet. I did a Google search for Rambo Afghanistan and sure enough, other bloggers and CNN have written about him. Interesting stuff...

We took off early today in order to take a different route home. Typically we go back down Jalalabad Road right past Camp Phoenix. We took some back roads and I saw some scenery I haven't seen before. People keep telling me there are some "nice" things about Kabul, but I haven't seen them yet. Looks more like prehistoric times to me.

On this new route we go by the airport. There are workers with pick axes and shovels, wearing protective body armor and helmets. Trucks and an ambulance are idling near the street. The workers are clearing an old Soviet minefield. I heard they were workers from India hired to clear the minefield. They are paid $3.75 per cleared mine. Incredible.

We get back to Falcon House without incident. Alex, Kurt & I go to the gym (assaulted by Nebula et al. en route), get some chow, shop the PX, and head back to the house. Another beautiful day in paradise.

Edit: March 9, 2007 - Another news story about Rambo - http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20070308/wl_csm/orambo_1

2007-01-12T20:42:00.000+04:30

Today was my first real day off. We take off on the Islamic weekend, which is Thursday noon through sunrise Saturday. Got up and went to the gym with Kurt and Marty at 0700. There are two gyms on Camp Eggers, also in what were previously Afghan houses. One has weight machines on the first floor and aerobic machines on the second floor; the other is primarily free weights. We went to the former this morning. I did the elliptical for 30 minutes then lifted for 30 minutes. The aerobic work here is harder than I'm accustomed to because of the elevation. Kabul is 6,000 feet above sea level, making it one of the highest capital cities in the world. Then we went to breakfast in one of the two DFACs (Dining Facility Administration Center). I don't know why the Army added "Administration Center" to the dining facility. I had an omelet with cheese, onion, and mushrooms; bacon; French toast; grits; coffee; juice; and a cookie. I didn't finish the cookie.

Then we walked back to our house, called the Falcon House. All of MPRI's houses have names. I piddled around and straightened up my room a little and then went to the Bazaar. Every Friday local vendors set up shop just outside the main entrance to Camp Egger. They had old guns, mostly old inoperable Afghan rifles. Apparently it is legal to buy them and ship them home if they're manufactured prior to a specific date which makes them antiques. (Orders, anyone?) I thought it was interesting that there were also a few old British swords; WW II German helmets and bayonets; and more recent Russian bayonets and belts with buckles. There were also lots of rugs, jewelry, clothes, fur coats, and pirated DVDs. I bought "We Are Marshall", "Rocky Balboa", "Freedom Writers", "Blood Diamond", and "Night at the Museum" all for $10 US. I don't know yet about the quality, but according to the folks that have been here a while, they are acceptable. Besides, what can you expect for $2? I met Greg there and we had lunch. I had a cheeseburger, scalloped potatoes, peas & carrots, Gatorade, and a cookie. I finished the cookie this time.

Then Greg & I got a driver to take us to another joint camp here called Camp Phoenix. Camp Phoenix is about twenty minutes away on Jelalabad Road. MPRI has vehicles with drivers available all day. Whenever we leave the immediate Camp Egger area, like going to work or another military installation, we are required to travel in pairs and wear body armor. We heard the PX on Camp Phoenix had items that the PX here doesn't have so we went to check it out. I got a backpack, t-shirt, and some batteries. Then we went upstairs and had a cup of coffee at a contract coffee shop called the Green Bean. They also had a Dairy Queen, pizza place, & pool tables. On the way from the front gate to the PX we saw two German armored personnel carriers (APCs) pulling out and a UN convoy pulling in.We walked out the front gate to meet our ride and were immediately assaulted by Afghan kids demanding one dollar. There was a mix up with the drivers and we waited outside for about 30 minutes waiting. I gave two kids each $1 to try some Copenhagen. I thought that would make them go away but they just announced their good fortune to some other kids nearby who also joined in the assault. We were warned not to interact with the kids because they don't want them to be encouraged. At least the kids at Camp Eggers try to sell something, scarfs; magazines; candy--but these kids were simply begging. You could tell which ones go to school and which ones don't by the quality of their English. We were finally rescued by our driver and made it safely back to Falcon House where I am writing this, waiting patiently for dinner. On Fridays they have surf & turf: steak and lobster or shrimp. I am really going to have to start working out more or you won't recognize my fat self when I get home...

I added more pics to http://s131.photobucket.com/albums/p296/rlanicek/ .

I don't really need anything that I can't get here or order online, but I did think of something you could send if you were so inclined: children's clothes. Instead of donating those unusable items (Danny & Kim and Shane & Sam), box them up and send them to me. Most of the kids I see around here are from 8 to 14 years old, but being under-nourished they are smaller than American kids of the same age, and they have little siblings at home if the clothes are too small. It appears to me that they could all use shoes.

That's all for now. More later. Out.