Perhaps you're wondering what a Saturday night is like in Afghanistan. I'm more than happy to oblige. And I'll get there. Stick with me.
We affectionately refer to Saturdays in Afghanistan as Afghan Mondays. As the weekend here is Thursday afternoon and Friday (the Muslim holy day), Saturday morning is usually when we see our Afghan counterparts for the first time that week. So already the days are all jumbled. We did that today...headed out to work and tried to have a few meetings, but our counterparts were all scattered elsewhere in the city today (unbeknownst to us, and impossible to predict as we cannot call ahead to schedule meetings since that might jeopardize our security). We ate a very unmemorable lunch (imagine previously frozen lunch meat, sliced cheese, tomatoes, and oops, someone forgot to bring the bread). And finally we were just sick of sitting around, so we left. There really aren't working hours here, so the fact that we left in the very early afternoon was no big deal. Work was done. We left.
We returned to our base and decided that since we had some extra time, we would wash our trucks. I know, lots of people wash cars on the weekends, so this really isn't much of a stretch. Except these trucks are gigantic. And they were caked with inches and inches of mud on the undercarriage, in the wheel wells, and plastered to the sides of the monstrous vehicles That ordeal took about an hour of power washing using non-potable water that kept splattering in our faces. Don't think about that. We didn't. Disgusting.
And even after all of that, it was hardly late afternoon. So I went to the gym for the second time today, because quite frankly I couldn't think of anything else to do. Then I took one of my guys who is celebrating his 40th birthday today "out" to "birthday dinner" which is to say that we sat in the same dining facility where we always sit, ate the same mediocre food, celebrated with dessert, and then about 30 minutes later went back to our own rooms.
Then I started getting creative. What do really crazy people do on a Saturday night in Afghanistan? They bleach their socks and washcloths in their trashcan. In their room. Yes, that's what cool people do. So I did that. And performed decoupage on the new city route map we need to put in our trucks...using contact paper and a straight knife. And printed a bunch of pictures I took of the young cops who work at the main gate at our Afghan base (Julia and I fondly refer to them as the DAWGS). And started writing Christmas cards. And listened to This American Life.
Every day in Afghanistan blends into the next one. Saturday is like Tuesday. Thursday is like Tuesday. Tuesday is like Tuesday. But the silver lining here is that although tonight was just another Saturday night in Afghanistan, I have less than a handful of such evenings left here before my return to spending Saturday nights in various European cities, nursing a glass of wine and enjoying great company. And that's a Saturday night experience I can't wait to relive.
We affectionately refer to Saturdays in Afghanistan as Afghan Mondays. As the weekend here is Thursday afternoon and Friday (the Muslim holy day), Saturday morning is usually when we see our Afghan counterparts for the first time that week. So already the days are all jumbled. We did that today...headed out to work and tried to have a few meetings, but our counterparts were all scattered elsewhere in the city today (unbeknownst to us, and impossible to predict as we cannot call ahead to schedule meetings since that might jeopardize our security). We ate a very unmemorable lunch (imagine previously frozen lunch meat, sliced cheese, tomatoes, and oops, someone forgot to bring the bread). And finally we were just sick of sitting around, so we left. There really aren't working hours here, so the fact that we left in the very early afternoon was no big deal. Work was done. We left.
We returned to our base and decided that since we had some extra time, we would wash our trucks. I know, lots of people wash cars on the weekends, so this really isn't much of a stretch. Except these trucks are gigantic. And they were caked with inches and inches of mud on the undercarriage, in the wheel wells, and plastered to the sides of the monstrous vehicles That ordeal took about an hour of power washing using non-potable water that kept splattering in our faces. Don't think about that. We didn't. Disgusting.
And even after all of that, it was hardly late afternoon. So I went to the gym for the second time today, because quite frankly I couldn't think of anything else to do. Then I took one of my guys who is celebrating his 40th birthday today "out" to "birthday dinner" which is to say that we sat in the same dining facility where we always sit, ate the same mediocre food, celebrated with dessert, and then about 30 minutes later went back to our own rooms.
Then I started getting creative. What do really crazy people do on a Saturday night in Afghanistan? They bleach their socks and washcloths in their trashcan. In their room. Yes, that's what cool people do. So I did that. And performed decoupage on the new city route map we need to put in our trucks...using contact paper and a straight knife. And printed a bunch of pictures I took of the young cops who work at the main gate at our Afghan base (Julia and I fondly refer to them as the DAWGS). And started writing Christmas cards. And listened to This American Life.
Every day in Afghanistan blends into the next one. Saturday is like Tuesday. Thursday is like Tuesday. Tuesday is like Tuesday. But the silver lining here is that although tonight was just another Saturday night in Afghanistan, I have less than a handful of such evenings left here before my return to spending Saturday nights in various European cities, nursing a glass of wine and enjoying great company. And that's a Saturday night experience I can't wait to relive.
I can NOT wait to share a bottle of wine with you!! Love you!!!!
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