WEEK 36

July 9 – 15, 2007

Wth the exception of two days, it has been 110 or hotter and windy. There isn’t much dust to blow around any more and I think I am slowly adjusting to the heat. Our day when 104 was the high seemed cool. Kris keeps telling me about those Tacoma highs of 85 and how she is sweltering. I keep thinking I will have to pull out my long sleeve shirts and fleece jackets for that kind of weather. I am anxious to give it a go and see if it really is cold. Not much longer now.

George Washington is one of the most popular men in the world. So too are Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant, and Benjamin Franklin. I know this because these guys have portraits of themselves stamped on American currency. I find it utterly amusing and with a great deal of pride that people from Australia, Canada (no surprise there), China, Egypt, England, Germany, Norway, Poland, Russia, and more (even the Frenchies) use our dollars on a daily basis here in Afghanistan and Iraq too. What choice do they have? The Afghans won’t touch that foreign currency and neither will NATO. It’s either use the mighty dollar or go home. Ed and I have discussed this many times. Ed proudly announces that the American Dollar is what the rest of the world dreams about when they sleep at night (he actually uses a different colloquialism, but this one is more appropriate). I love it. It’s part of the reason I walk around here with a smile on my face and further proof that the rest of the world would have a hard time existing without some little country that is only 231 years old. On the world scale, 231 years is like a week to the English and Italians. Look what we’ve done to the world economy in a relatively short period.

I’ve been asked a couple of times recently whether or not I will continue writing weeklies after I leave this sub-par vacation Valhalla. “I hadn’t really thought about it” has been my answer and it is easy to say I will, even though that may not necessarily be true. The fact is I like writing these. Some are more difficult to produce than others, but I enjoy writing about things I see and do and more importantly appreciate the fact that somebody actually wants to read them. While my friends and comrades were deployed to Iraq when I wasn’t, I produced a monthly that was titled “Updates”. Of the ten or so folks I sent them to, I received laudatory comments and rave reviews, and that was about home life with Kris and the kids. So, with that experience I believe my weeklies will graduate into monthlies and the topic will change from being here to being there. I’m a big fan of input so let me know what all-you-all think.

Because I have also heard from many of you that I should write a book, I will. Actually, “I am”, is a better statement. I decided to write a book based on 52 weeks of work, mostly in a third world country, and call it 365 Mondays (thanks to Ed for the title). Technically, Week 36 is Week 44 as there were eight weeks of training and preparation prior to hopping on the plane that eventually took me to Afghanistan. Anyway, I have written the Query, am working on the Proposition, and have completed the first chapter with outline. I have also been searching through agents and researching the how-tos and what-fors that are prevalent in such an adventure. If any of you know a book agent out there with interests in Fictional Satire, please let me know. With any luck I’ll earn enough from this book to take my wife out to dinner some night. I’ll keep you posted with the progress.

The Korean contingency here is made up primarily of an engineering unit which has a small hospital and DFAC. We have visited their DFAC a few times for lunch (no more than one a month as it’s not my cup of tea) and the food is OK if you like Korean food. It’s a nice change of pace. Anyway, on my run the other morning I noticed a large number of Korean soldiers lined up at the closest American DFAC. I know the kind of stuff we provide for breakfast and find it below average at best. I began wondering how terrible the Korean breakfast must be to compel these soldiers to go to our DFAC. Since I didn’t know first-hand what the menu was, I figured there was only one way to truly find out. I went to the Korean DFAC for breakfast.

Walking up to the door of the KDFAC was like sauntering up to a tavern double door in an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western…that lovely Cool Hand Luke music playing in the background, the hot sun beating down and the squinting of the eyes as you are about ready to fling the door open. I flung the door open and the music abruptly stopped. Approximately 15 Koreans (that’s all that were in there) all turned in my direction and stared at me in wonder. I know they were asking themselves what this Gaijing was doing here. I surveyed the breakfast entrees: rice and a yellow lumpy egg sauce with water to drink. Hhmmm. Possessing the analytical synapses of the IBM Blue super computer, I reasoned I was out of place and was not going to be impressed by this buffet. I smiled generously while I bowed and quickly departed the KDFAC. I immediately found an old (well, maybe younger than you, Dad) American female KBR employee walking away from the DFAC (she was there to pick up some dried noodles) and we began chatting. I told her of my recent experience and she said somebody should have warned me not to go there for breakfast. I agreed and now know why a majority of the Koreans eat elsewhere. Why would anyone want rice and lumpy egg sauce when you could have pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, freedom toast, oatmeal, and orange juice?! Sure the taste and texture is below McDonald’s, but compared to the Koreans breakfast delight, it’s a dream.

We had numerous controlled blasts / demolitions today, but one of them felt like a 2000 pounder was let loose by a B1-B within half a klick of my location. Yeah, announcements were made ahead of time over Giant Voice that a controlled demolition would occur in five minutes, but that five minutes of time is an eternity when you are waiting for a blast. You hear the announcement and continue on with what you were doing, forgetting about it. Then the blast happens. I had been in some close proximity mortar attacks in Iraq and could hear and feel the explosion and concussion, but I hadn’t experienced anything of the magnitude that I felt today. I was sitting in my hooch typing when it occurred. Not only did the whole Earth feel like it was coming apart, but all my electronics equipment momentarily blinked out while the shock wave felt like it had ripped my hooch away and into the tornado that plummeted Dorothy into Oz. I immediately thought it must have been a nuclear detonation because of the EMP-like effect on my computer. However, a second later, all was normal again except my heart rate. Whew, I am glad the announcement was made ahead of time.

I have mentioned the new decks that we have around our huts a couple of times, but really haven’t explained them. To make the six rooms in the huts more spacious, the center hallway that the six doors opened into was removed. Now the six room doors open directly outside since the rooms have absorbed the additional hallway space. Because the huts sit on about 12 inch stilts, a deck between huts had to be constructed so that the floor of the room and the deck are at the same height. The decks are constructed of pine (you can tell by the smell and pitch) and are untreated and of inferior quality. The wood is warped and bowed and the planks were nailed into place instead of screwed. The nail heads need to be pounded back down once a week and walking across the deck causes loud wood thumping sounds in your room. Oh well, it was a nice touch. The pitch is what really bothers me. You have to be cognizant of stepping around it or you wind up tracking it into your room.

There is no other explanation for the 2nd coat of paint we received today on our huts other than they ran out of Army tan paint, but had gobs of Armor yellow. In the plan to make all the huts the same color, they are all being painted yellow now. The locals once again slapped oil-based paint all over our huts, however, they seemed to do a better job with coverage; both on the buildings and on the ground and decks. This time the sign that had my name and info was ripped off my door and thrown down. No attempt was made to remove my outside temperature sensor. Everything to include my outside squeeze light (so I can see my lock in the dark) was painted yellow. Maybe I should be happy. After all, it is a color that the Armor community acknowledges as sacrosanct. It’s a color that I am particularly fond of, but it is not the color I wanted on my light and sensor. I guess it’s just one of those things you have to accept the good with the bad.

Someone has forced a menu change at our DFAC. No longer are we on a 7-day menu (which means that the menu is the same every seven days), we are now on a 14 day menu. This could be good, but makes it harder to know what you are having as the entrée for that evening. As an example, Tuesday nights have been Italian night since I have been here. Now it is something different. Expanding the menu to 14 days also means that we have seven new (or different) entrees than before because we have now doubled. While I don’t expect the quality of the food to improve, it is a welcome change to have more variety. I’ll sample some of the new wares and let you know what it’s like.

I visited my favorite carpet Hajji today. I looked at a carpet that I just had to have. It is a Naneen Province Persian 10’ x 13’ carpet with a wool and silk blend that is primarily blue and cream in color. Absolutely gorgeous is how I would describe it. The feel, texture, tightness of the weave, and clarity of the pattern are second to none. I was told that this carpet is from the most highly regarded province in all of Persia (now Iran) and I believe it. I was enthralled and ready to transport it to my room when the issue of price came up. $8,500! I asked a second time if that was U.S. Dollars or Afghanis (it was USD). The look on my face was enough to cause the local concern. I was completely surprised by the cost and he could tell. In an attempt to keep a potential sale, he threw a Chinese and an Afghan carpet, that were significantly less expensive, with similar colors down next to the Persian to try and get me to consider one of them. Neither had the grandeur or craftsmanship of the Persian and it was clearly apparent since they were side by side by side. I told him I wanted the Persian, but there was no way I was going to fork over $8500. So I started to leave. He asked me what I would be willing to pay and I uttered $2000. That price shocked him, but he said he would make me a good deal and asked me to come back. I have no idea what a good deal is to him for that carpet, but I am confident it is more than I want to pay. I’ll go back, but I am positive I will be returning home without that carpet.

This week’s picture was snapped looking down the sidewalk (North) toward the medical clinic and DFAC from our row of B Huts. The newly painted yellow buildings on the left are B Huts while the tan stacked containers on the right are C Huts. If you note the American flag on the front left B Hut outcropping, that is my door. I have a flag there to make it easier to discern mine from the many others along the row. Those local painters even got some paint on my flag. You can also see part of the deck just this side of my B Hut. If you look closely, you can tell the first red trashcan on the left is missing its lid. The 550-cord is still attached to the handle. Obviously the lid has become one with the remaining trash in Pakistan. I know, pretty exciting.

Next week’s thrill ride will include the adventure and skill of packing equipment and items we just cannot seem to part with, being anxious about the trip back home yet still remaining work focused, and a few remaining opportunities to grab some Afghan rays. This roller coaster just never stops.

Until next week,

Craig