Sylvia's Journal

Steve counts the number of check-points from our guesthouse to our assigned seats in the plane. There are 18 for males, fewer for females – we are not frisked as often. The only real security check was done by people from UAE, quite thorough compared to all the previous Afghan ‘checks.’ The latter are essentially forms of employment and opportunities for bribes.

The UAE check is a new step in the process, at the very end when we have already boarded a bus thinking that we are going to the plane. But we are not. We are taken to the new terminal that has not opened yet, even though it should have, months ago. While we stand in line, dogs are led into our bus – bomb sniffing dogs – this is not an agricultural inspection. I like it, although I wonder why the dogs look so skinny. I can see their ribs. In this country dogs are usually not man’s best friend.

While I sat in on the staff meeting of the general directorate for health I heard about an imminent campaign against dogs – there are many cases of rabies reported and the ministry has to act. The department chief in charge of this operation has been working with the Kabul municipal authorities to get the campaign organized. He lists the resources they need: plastic bags, gloves and strychnine as well as a bunch of vehicles. The dog catchers will swarm out over the city all at once and drive the stray dogs into corners. That is, I suppose where the strychnine is administered. I try to imagine the operation, the many dead dogs and the strychnine – it has all the makings of a good detective story.

The pilot of the plane is from Denmark and I must admit it made me feel better. He does turn right after takeoff and circles to gain altitude – as he should. The views are spectacular – blue skies and snow-covered mountains everywhere, range after range, reaching into the far corners of Central Asia.

A taped message in Arabic is played before we take off. I understand enough to know that it’s a prayer, asking for God’s protection. I hope it covers us infidels as well – we are after all in the same boat so to speak. In English we are simply greeted – hello, welcome aboard, hope you have a nice journey, thank you for flying Safi Airways.

The pilot tells us that the temperatures in Dubai are between 30 (early morning) and 40 (mid-day) degrees. I am slowly peeling off layers and headscarves – in the UAE they don’t seem to mind the look of female skin.

We drop our baggage off at the luxurious hotel and take a taxi to the creek where we board one of the countless small ferries to my favorite restaurant that is built over the water on the other side. It’s hot but the breeze keeps us comfortable. After lunch we take a taxi to the Emirates Mall where we check out the ski slope – a truly bizarre place full of pricy eating establishments and ice cream stores. One is called ‘the marble slab’ – predicting where you will end up if you eat too much of their ice-cold confections.

You can watch the ski fun from the bottom of the slope, the middle and the top depending on which floor you are at. If you want to get onto the slope you have to pay a considerable amount of money, don a rented ski suit (it’s cold on the slopes) and put on rented snow or ski boots. There’s even a store that sells skis, snowboards, ski clothes and other cold weather stuff next to the entrance.

The entrance fee is lower if you only want to wander around at the bottom of the slope and watch the small kids slide around. We spot a woman who wears a black burka over a bulky winter coat, complete with black headdress, a reminder that we are deep inside the Arab world.