Everybody Eats When They Come to my House

 Like so many of my favorite cultures, Afghan culture seems to me to revolve around food and beverages. Now granted there are some societal norms here that don't really mesh with those to which I have been accustomed in Europe...but I'm adjusting (slowly). I've learned to appreciate the art of drinking chai (tea). And by tea, I really mean hot water into which a few leaves of green tea have been tossed for approximately 20 seconds before being promptly removed. As long as you like drinking water (which I do), and you appreciate having a healthy digestive system (which is a new phenomenon for me, and one that chai is aiding immeasurably), you will adore Afghan chai. I estimate I drink at least three cups of tea per day with my Afghan counterparts (and despite what Greg Mortenson may argue, that does not appear to be helping me overcome the language, cultural and gender barriers in this society).

What I do love about the Afghans is that they are a very giving people...and I guess with the complicated Afghan history it's incredible that they are so giving. All of the people with whom I work are always asking what they can do to make me feel more welcome in their country because I am their "guest." Luckily for me, I love to run (despite the 6,000 feet of elevation here) because the Afghans all think they should feed me. Constantly.

At the top is the lunch one of the Colonels brought for me over the weekend. That is a kebab (which is fried meat of some sort...probably goat, but it's best not to ask...with a huge helping of curry and hot spices inside). Everything is eaten with your hands (good thing my hands are always clean...wait, no, that is impossible here). Though the water here scares me to death, the bread is absolutely terrific. Apparently all of the grime in the water adds a special flavor or something (again, things I don't think about). Whatever the case may be, this is NOT a good place to go on a low carb diet. That would be entirely too sad.

Above is the lovely Colonel who brought me (and my interpreter) lunch. He needed a picture with me - I'm not sure why, but there you have it. He's the Education Officer for the base where I work, and we have some amazing conversations about how to improve literacy among the Afghan National Army soldiers. Plus he's got to be the nicest person on the planet (which frankly helps compensate for some of the other dirtbags).

And of course no day would be complete without two lunches, so I had to eat a second time, this time in the Dining Facility (DFAC) for the ANA. The room is truly incredible - it must seat 400 people (and now that I know that the base where I work was formerly run by the Russians I have a much better appreciation for the design features). The industrial kitchen is run by a female head chef, who invited me for a traditional lunch. I ate noodle soup, more bread (dipped in yogurt), cucumbers, and fresh watermelon. Like the genius that I am (not), I wore the world's most beautiful (and hot) scarf to eat hot soup on a hot day and nearly had to be dragged out of that place on a stretcher. Like I said, still learning to adjust to my new surroundings. Apparently it didn't occur to me that wearing a heavy silk scarf in the summer was a bad idea. Of note, women are not allowed to eat in the DFAC at the same time as the men, so there I was, eating alone. Well, with a few other women (and a group of men who thought it was fairly spectacular to see some blonde girl in their DFAC).

So there you have it. The adventures here continue, one cup of chai and bowl of soup at a time.