Sylvia's Journal

More drawn out meals yesterday but more working too; our two days of forced staying at home are over. I produce two designs for the retreat that starts today, or is supposed to start. I am ready for surprises; in fact, I expect them. For one I have had no contact with the team we are supposed to facilitate and have therefore been guessing what people want, both as a process and outcome. And then of course we have no idea whether we will have two days and that the right people will show up.

For lunch we go to the nearby French bakery. It is run by a French couple; the man is a former oil rig engineer turned baker and the woman, whose name is, fittingly, Ariana, a former teacher and administrator. They have been in Afghanistan since 2000 and worked at various NGOs before deciding it was time to start their own (Le Pelican). They combine the art of making French breads, pastries (‘tartes’), croissants and quiches with the education of Hazara children who used to be scrounging around for scraps of food in garbage pails.

The place is lovely: a garden full of flowering geraniums, and various sitting areas, places for dining as well as comfortable lounge chairs around low tables – the kind that invite staying the whole afternoon with coffee or tea and a good book. The café serves breakfast and lunch, fresh juices and bakery goods that make you think you are in France.

We enjoy a delicious lunch of quiches, a feta pie, an omelet, croissants, and coffee with a giant meringue for dessert. The food is served by teenage boys in a striped peach colored vest over a white starched shirt with a bow tie, speaking impeccable English as he takes our orders, brings our food and clears the dishes.

On the wall inside the café are pictures of the baker-husband with his young apprentices. It’s the perfect combination: eating well and doing good at the same time since the income from the café gets plowed back into the organization that educates over a hundred Hazara boys and girls in morning and afternoon sessions.

After lunch I sit on my balcony and produce a watercolor painting of the otherwise ugly Guesthouse One across the yard while listening to choral music from Brahms. My amateur water color sketch makes the place look better than it is – probably because of the splashes of light green to capture the budding trees and the grape leaves that have just started to come out of the ancient looking grape vine stock. The famous Afghan roses are not yet out but buds are visible. I think they will pop open when I leave.

For dinner we finish the last leftover dishes and I create a salad out of the last veggies that have not rotted yet. Tomorrow the cook will come and we can start afresh. We eat our meals sitting around the TV so we can follow the swine flu story and I am wondering when Afghanistan will show up on the color coded map. We watch another WHO press conference. MP is chomping at the bit -she wants to be out there in Mexico, investigating.